How Lucky I am

Thank God for reminding me how lucky I am

When I am low, there are people who cheer me up

When I am lost, there are people who show me the way

When I need to know about music, You sent me a maestro

When I need to know about literature, You sent me a poet

When I need to know about politic, You sent me a politician

When I need to know about environment, You sent me an environmentalist

When I need to know about community, You sent me an activist

When I need to know about foreign aids, You sent me a loan shark

When I need to know about love, You sent me to a mental hospital

For A, thanks for the interesting discussion

Time to Quit

Once a friend said this to me, “Sometimes I don’t know the difference between to be persistent and dumb.”

I think being persistent is knowing the limit, has feasible goals and know when to quit. It would be better well equipped with alternative solutions to solve a problem. However, sometimes it is not easy to know when to stop. Time to quit.

I met a very nice man, I liked him a lot. I tried all my best to be with him. He asked me to keep in touch with him when he was away and I did. It’s like a drama, once he seemed wanted to be with me, but then…boom…he didn’t want me anymore. He wanted me, he didn’t want me. It’s on and on.

I kept trying and trying. I tried to understand that he might be afraid to get hurt, and I was patient. He didn’t treat me bad, just ignored me. It hurt me badly.

Until one night before slept, I realized how bad he treated me. He treated me as if I were a yoyo. He controlled over my brain and heart. He was the one who decided whether or not we should meet. So all was up to him, all I could do just listen and follow his decisions. For what? To win his heart. By what? By forgetting my heart.

So on that night, tears dropped on my cheeks. I decided to quit. I might love him badly. I might need him badly. I might want him badly. He might have made me happy, but trying to win his heart was totally devastating. It exhausted me. I decided to quit. I decided to stop wanting him, no matter how brokenhearted I was. I decided to win my heart back. This heart should have been loved more than his.

This is what I call knowing when to quit. It’s dumb if I didn’t quit.

In the morning I woke up and looked horrified. I couldn’t face the world. What would I do then? I covered up all the hurts I got. I put some make up on and tried to smile.

Until one day, I got a message. Yes, life is not only about him. There is someone next to me now. Someone, who cares about me with all his heart.

For someone...let’s move to the next chapter and thanks for the inspiration. You make me more creative

Love Letter

A love letter sample of a programme manager

To whom it may concern,

Dear Sir,

I would like to admit that I miss you badly. I believe that you are well aware about this issue. Please allow me to explain the problem a bit more.
Based on our meetings and contacts, I phrased a problem statement. It was "Can I get along with this person and establish a relationship?" Indeed, this problem statement was a preliminary step prior the real assessment.

Based on collected data interpretation, I found that the happiness, intelligence, attention, care and comfort scores are pretty high. However there are also some low scores. These low scores are on communication, withdrawing, and the lowest score is on fear of get hurt.

Therefore I could argue that the dynamic between us can be pretty joyful and brings happiness to us both. On the other hand, it is also fragile and scary. The happier we are, the further we withdraw ourselves and create further distance to avoid hurt.

Based on this dynamic analysis, I conclude that the relationship cannot exist until we both have the courage to move on. For that, we need to create a better two way communication channel that can facilitate us to express our ideas, feelings and so on, and build trust. The risk of this action is that it may lead us to adjust to each other, while the process takes time and energy. However, this action if it is fully succeed would improve the scores of happiness, comfort, attention, trust and so on, including communication.

Despite of this recommendation, there is another possible recommendation to be done. It would be less risky if we both simply decide to withdraw ourselves and return back to our comfort zones. As mentioned before, this action is less risky, where we both don't have to spend time and energy to adjust to each other. However, it also may lead us to lower our happiness score. Worse, it may lead to long term regret.

However, for your consideration, even though the first option has higher risk than the second one, I prefer the first option. My preference is based on an important underlining reason, which is my love for you. The risk of this option is less than the possible benefit that we can achieve. Therefore I can claim that this option is a feasible and beneficial for us both, even after the cost-benefit analysis. As consequence, this option also brings us to greater responsible, and for that we can design our next relationship development phase together, participatory.

With all respect, I wish you have a clear idea on what is going on between us based on my opinion. Since I cannot impose my idea on you, I will let you to take your time and make a decision which action you would prefer to pursue. Either it is the first or later option, I would respect your decision. However, I should also remind you, that I have developed a monitoring and evaluation system, equipped with feasible time table.

I really am sorry for not engaging you in developing this monitoring and evaluation system, since I have to consider my personal interests and further development programmes.

Please contact me for further discussion.

Unspoken Love

I want to love you in a simple way

Like unspoken word of the wood

To the fire that burn him

I want to you in a simple way

Like untold sign of the cloud

To the rain that waive her

For the best coffeemaker on Earth who would never know this unspoken love

True Love

Once I was discussing about what love is with a wise friend. She told me that for her love was simple, it was like the love of the wood to the fire that burn it. It’s like the love of the cloud to the rain that waives her. “But then it’s useless,” I cried to her. How could one love someone else without expecting anything in return? If I love a man, then I surely expect him to love me back. I just couldn’t understand the idea of loving someone and let him free. How could I let my partner be free fooling around with other girls?

Until I met him, the best coffeemaker on Earth. I met the one whom touches my heart more than anyone could ever do. Yet, he’s so fragile. I found me loving him in a quiet manner. I didn’t tell him. I cannot afford hurting him, so I keep my love to him in silence. Some beauties need only be whispers, and so does this love to him. This love only needs to be a whisper.

Halo BCA yang Tidak Halo

Pagi ini aku dapat sms dari BCA yang menerangkan credit cardku jatuh tempo. Bingung lah, karena 9 hari yang lalu sudah aku bayar dengan jumlah diatas pembayaran minimal.
Hati masih adem coba nelpon Halo BCA. Ditelpon berulang kali gagal. Begitu masuk harus nunggu lamaaaaa banget sampai akhirnya aku putus dan nelpon lagi. Berhasil deh.

Masih dengan hati adem tanya ke mbak costumer service yang suaranya cantik. Aku jelaskan pertanyaanku. Aku bilang bahwa aku dapat sms yang menerangkan jatuh tempo padahal aku sudah bayar dengan jumlah di atas pembayaran minimal. Dia pun mengakui sudah ada pembayaran di tanggal 7, alasan disebut jatuh tempo karena aku belum bayar tagihan dengan lunas. Jadi aku cuma bayar bunganya doing. Bunga yang sama sekali tidak indah. Lah kok? Biasanya juga nggak apa-apa.

Aku tanya lagi pelan-pelan dengan logika rasional,"Saya bayar sebelum jatuh tempo dengan jumlah diatas pembayaran minimal. Masuk. Lah kenapa disebut jatuh tempo?"
Dijawab dengan jawaban yang sama.
Tanya dua kali. Jawaban sama.

Akhirnya aku pakai contoh, "Mbak, kalau tagihan mbak 10 juta, minimal bayar 1 juta, dan mbak bayar 1.1 juta sebelum jatuh tempo, bisa nggak? Ada nggak orang lain yang bayar sesuai tagihan minimal?"

Eh jawabannya sama lagi. Aku merasa GUOBLOK sekali diri ini kayanya. Aku ancam aja untuk bikin surat pembaca. Karena muangkel banget akhirnya ke kantor BCA Sudirman. Dandan dulu sih. Kita kan kalo mau perang dandan dulu.
Untungnya yang di sana lebih ramah dan kemudian minta maaf, ngakuin kesalahan mereka. Kasihan juga sih dia aku kasih senyum dan muka sadis. Kali mending dibantai sekalian daripada disapa dengan sapaan lembut dan muka bengis.
Halo BCA dodol!!!!

Children of Adam and Eve’s

I am looking at my photo albums, recalling back my memories. There are lots and lots photos of my friends there, different races, ethnicities, religions, nationalities and so on. Looking at these colourful bunch of friends on my computer screen makes me wonder, how could I was told that we all are children of Eve and Adam’s? If yes, then how could we turn to be so colourful? But personally, I think this difference makes life more interesting. Well that’s not the point here, I am more toying with an idea about the future, not the past.

It seems that more and more people involve in interracial relationships, more and more mixed children wander around on Earth. What once was seen as a taboo, now becomes usual (I against normality, so I try to avoid the word normal). No, I don’t against this interracial relationship, I, myself don’t have any preference, but sexual preference when I date someone. I simply wonder what will happen in next 400 years. Maybe there won’t be any brownie girl with flat nose, black eyes and hair like me. There won’t be any yellow bloke with small black eyes like my friend in KL. There won’t be any girls with Viking looks, blonde, blue eyes, white. There won’t be girls with Middle Eastern looks with big black eyes and pointed nose. No curvy Indian girls wander around in saree. No Pocahontas with reddish skin. No curly brown hair with turquoise eyes like my Jewish friend. Sigh, and no sexy African blokes with beautiful eyes and curly hair. All will just mix up together.

I cannot imagine how my great great great grandchildren will look like, maybe they will have a bit dark skin (what will be the colour if black, white, yellow, brown, red mix together?). What about the eyes? Big rounded eyes like middle eastern’s and Indians? Or small like Orientals’? Blue, green, grey, brown or black? Well hopefully my great great great grandchildren will have African eyes, since I think they are lovely. What about the hair? Straight like my Chinese friend? Straight like my Norwegian friend? Wavy like mine? Curly like my Jewish friend? Or curly like my African friend?

Somehow, isn’t weird to see all people have similar looks, since they all are mixed? No race anymore. No different colour. Hopefully there will no war and prejudice.

PS: Don’t get offended with my non politically correct words please.

Dedicated for my big girl, future mrs. voisine who inspired me writing this

He's Not That Into You

A friend gave me a book yesterday, He’s not That into You, as a birthday gift. It’s a book that shows girls the signs when men are not really into them. Wake up and move on, that’s the idea of the book. It is also written that girls deserve men who care about them. Yip, why bother and cry all night long because of someone who doesn’t even think of you?

The question is, well ok. If I meet a man, then I find he’s not into me, I move on and find another one. That’s simple. What about this, what if the one who is really into me is a drama queen? What if he is not sane? I recall someone I met about 2 years ago. He didn’t only annoy me, but also my friends. He rang me almost every hour. He got upset if I couldn’t answer his calls. He sent hundred text messages daily. Few times he insisted to come to my place, even tho it was after midnight and no one invited him. No matter how many times I told him not to do it, he said that it would be fine for him to come to my place from his. He shouted at me when I didn’t answer his call or messages. He kept saying that it would be fine no matter how many times I told him that I wasn’t into him. He told his friends that I was his girlfriend. Well no doubt he was that into me. But does it mean I should be with him just because he’s really into me? No, I decided to accept his lunch invitation, grabbed chocolate coated ice cream he brought for me (just because I didn’t like him, doesn’t mean I didn’t like the ice cream) and told him how annoying he was.

Then…end of the story. I ignored his calls, messages and so on.

Dedicated for the one who gave the book. Just because he’s that into you, doesn’t mean we have to be that into him.

Surprise!!!!

What I saw when I walked into my room. Someone must had stolen flowers from the queen's garden

My Ultimate Pitfalls

I went to some schools, busy collecting pieces of paper. But in the end, there won't be any different between an illiterate woman and me. Those pieces of paper won't be needed and no one will ask.

I work hard wishing I could buy a house, the one at that corner. It's lovely with big yard and many trees. But in the end, there won't be any different between a bum who doesn't have a home and me. We both will be buried down there.

I wear handwoven silk top and handmade batik sarong, lovely and fancy. In real there is no difference between simple clothe that being worn by a poor woman and my fancy outfit. Both simply cover up our breasts, vaginas and some other parts.

I eat fancy meals in fancy restaurants that cost months of average monthly salaries of people in Jakarta. In the end, my meals only turn to be shits.

An Illiterate Devil

As other small kids, my three year old nephew loves drawing on the wall and floor.

“Don’t draw on the wall! Do it on paper.”

“Ok.”

Then he drew on my documents. What??????

“Bob, choose other paper, not on my documents.”

“But Spongebob can’t lid.” (But Spongebob can’t read)

Humph…

Dear My Adam*,

I will be 29 soon so I think it is time for me to let you know what I feel and think.
My peers maybe already have some kids, and I don't. But don't worry, I am not in hurry. Indeed I don't know yet whether or not I want a biological one.
My dearest soulmate, I still enjoy my life and don't want to change it yet. I am not ready to share my bed, goofy, and all remote controls. Even tho I have been waiting for almost 29 years, I don't think I am ready to meet you at the moment.
So, enjoy your life and come to me in few years later. You can date as many girls as you want now. Do whatever you want to do as long as it doesn't harm or abuse others. Don't worry about your other half, she's happy and enjoying her life fully.

With love
An Eve

*Presumably my soulmate is an adam, not another eve or something in between

Endless Questions

A 3 year old boy named Putra but lately names himself as Spongebob (after a quite long period of being Boots) has endless questions. It is fun knowing his curiosity toward many things, but sometimes it is exhausting. Why this? Why that? Why not this? Why not that? The most complicated part is finding simple words to answer his (sometimes non simple) questions.

“Why fyad? Why too much yain? Why people thyow gaybage not in bin?” (Why flood? Why too much rain? Why people throw garbage not in bins?)

Once my mum was praying, and the dude asked her not to pray.

“Patyick, why you pyay? You ack thing fyom God?” (Patrick, why you pray? You ask thing from God?)

“I ask God to give us money for you to go to school.” (beep…..it’s a big big wrong answer. Don’t copy it.)

“Don’t ack money fyom God. Ack Ade.” (Don’t ask money from God. Ask Ade)

Laughter….

A Future Male Feminist

"Ade mau kemana?"
"Ke kantor, mau ikut?"
"Ada taman bermainnya?"
"Nggak ada."
"Kenapa nggak ada? Anak-anak teyus mainnya dimana?"

Iya ya…ibu yang punya anak nggak bisa bawa anak di lingkungan kerja karena nggak ramah perempuan.

Love

Once I asked my three year old nephew what love was. He smiled, ran to Goofy and hugged him. He kissed and stroked Goofy, then said, “Goofy thank you foy heyping me. I yuv you.” (Goofy thank you for helping me. I love you).

(Once he fell over from bed and fortunately Goofy was on the floor so the little bloke didn’t hit the floor)

Bius Lokal

Seorang teman yang sering melabeliku snob, karena aku suka dengan jus jeruk yang (tidak mahal tapi) sulit didapat dan bawa teh di tas supaya bisa menolak teh yang ditawarkan orang. Dia bilang aku snob dan picky, maunya cuma Pepermintnya Dilmah’s atau Chamomilenya Twinning’s (tolong dicatat ya). Padahal ini cuma masalah selera, bukan karena mahal maka aku milih, aku belum gila kok. Kalau ada yang murah kenapa mesti yang mahal?

Temanku ini cerita tentang temannya yang anak orang yang suangat kuaya ruayaaaa saking kuayanya. Suatu hari teman kayanya ini mau operasi kecil (terakhir, ketahuan ini terjadi sekitar 30 tahun lalu kayanya soalnya ternyata operasi sunat aka sirkumsisi aka khitan aka potong ujung titit). Nah ibunya si teman, yang snob habis jreng jreng jreng ketemu sama si dokter.

“Ibu, anak ibu akan kami beri bius lokal*.” kata si dokter.

“Apa??? Bius lokal buat anak saya? Nggak bisa, harus yang impor. Pokoknya biusnya harus yang import yang bagus.” tandas si tante yang yakin segala yang imported adalah hal yang bagus.

Nggak tau deh si dokter neranginnnya gimana.

Note: bius lokal adalah bius yang biasanya dipakai untuk mati rasa di bagian tubuh tertentu doing, contrary dengan bius total yang bikin orang ko’it untuk sementara waktu (dan denger-denger sekarang bius local dianggap lebih aman)

Anak Tukang Rokok

Aku tinggal di Menteng, sebuah kampung sepi dengan banyak pepohonan di pusat Jakarta. Di suatu sore yang sepi di kampung sepi ini aku jalan kelaparan dan memutuskan untuk cari cemilan di luar. Kebetulan nggak terlalu jauh (ukuranku) ada stasiun kereta Cikini dan Alfa. Maka, berjalanlah perempuan kucel ini dengan rok batik pendek yang dibeli 15 tahun lalu (dulu harganya 4000 padahal keluaran Batik Keris), kaos harga 9.900 beli 4 dapat 5 di Matahari Jogja dan sandal jepit Bata harga 300 baht diskon 20% yang dibeli gara2 sepatunya jebol.

Di tengah jalan di depan kantor Golkar aku lihat ada tukang bakso sederhana. Jualnya cuma mangkal di bawah pohon dengan satu kursi panjang yang tidak terlalu panjang dan sepeda lengkap dengan panci baksonya. Aku tertarik untuk beli dan memesannya. Ternyata si penjual sangat ramah dan menyapaku dalam bahasa Jawa. Sebagai orang Jawa gadungan yang belajar bahasa Jawa beberapa tahun lalu tentu aku menjawabnya dalam bahasa Jawa yang halus dong, bagaimanapun dia lebih tua. Ini pembicaraan setelah diterjemahkan ke Bahasa Indonesia.

“Bapak gimana kabarnya?” tanyanya yang membuatku bingung. Papaku kan sudah meninggal lama.

“Bapak kenal bapak saya?”

“Mbak anaknya Pak Sardi kan?”

“Pak Sardi?”

“Alah Mbak nggak usah pura-pura. Pasti anaknya Pak Sardi tukang rokok jalan Surabaya situ.”

“Pak, saya bukan anaknya Pak Sardi. Mungkin mirip.”

“Ah nggak mungkin. Persis kok. Halus-halusnya juga. Salam ya buat bapak.”

(berhubung percuma bilang aku bukan anak Pak Sardi maka kuiyakan aja)

Aku bilang mama dan kakakku tentang si tukang bakso. Mereka ngakak bukan kepalang. Karena penasaran ibuku pun ingin lihat dan membuktikannya. Kemudian kami berdua jalan dan beli bakso di tempat yang sama.

“Pak tolong baksonya dua.”

“Wee anaknya Pak Sardi. Ini Bu Sardi ya? Kok tumben keluar Bu? Kiosnya siapa yang jaga?” katanya sambil nyapa mama yang disambung gelak tawa mamaku.

“Iya Pak, kalau jaga terus nanti malah pusing.” Jawab ibuku sambil nyengir.

(walah pak bakso kok malah sekarang ibuku jadi istrinya Pak Sardi)

Begitu tahu tentang ini, kakak dan masku penasaran. Mereka memutuskan untuk datang dan lihat. Eng ing eng…Pak bakso pun tertegun waktu lihat ibu dan kakakku yang jadi iseng suka nongkrong di tempatnya datang dijemput mobil hitam kinclong. Mungkin dalam hatinya “wah anaknya Pak Sardi sudah jadi orang” (masa jadi kucing). Kakakku dengan penasarannya malah buka kaca mobil lebar-lebar dan menyalami pak bakso sambil senyum. Diiringi dengan lambaian heboh anaknya yang sibuk antara lihat tukang arum manis ke kiri sama kereta api di kanannya.

Suatu hari aku sambil agak dandan dikit karena nunggu teman mau jalan ke Alfa, artinya ngelewatin Pak Bakso. Pulangnya sekalian mampir dan pesan. Tumben dia nggak ramah seperti biasanya. Dia lebih banyak diam dan cuma mandangin aku penuh selidik. Aku nggak tau ada apa sama dia. Waktu aku tanya dia bilang dia baik-baik aja.

Hari ini aku baru tau. Mama pergi ke pasar Cikini (rasanya nggak ada Pasar Menteng soalnya, mungkin orang Menteng nggak perlu makan jadi nggak ada pasar) dan pas pulang beli bakso buatku. Si tukang bakso minta maaf sama mama karena ngira dia istri tukang rokok dan aku anak tukang rokok. Kata mama si Pak Bakso bilang kalau dia malu sekali karena salah nyangka. Yakin sih mama pasti akan bilang ngga apa-apa.

Indeed nggak apa-apa. It was a good laughter for us. Malah kata mama, coba tukang rokoknya kaya Sampoerna, apa nggak tajir abis tuh.

Ealah Pak Raden, anak istrinya kok ya disangka anak istri orang lain Boss. Rest in Peace Pa.

Letter for Minister of Communication and Information

Dear Minister of Communication and Information,

Sir, I read on newspaper that you would send a letter to a TV talkshow, called Republik Mimpi (Republic of Dreams). It is written on newspapers that you thought this talkshow does not educate Indonesians, because it parodies the leaders of this country, Indonesia. But sir, I don’t understand it.

I saw this talkshow few times, indeed it is one among small numbers of shows that I watch on TV, and I couldn’t see which part of the show that degrades our leaders. Yes, there are faux presidents and vice presidents, but so what? It’s the leaders of Republik Mimpi, not this country. Yes, they criticize and parody the situations in Indonesia, but so what? We laugh, even my maids laugh and wait this show. What makes you so upset? We don’t live in an era where a powerful one can control media and information. Well, surely you know this better since you are the minister of communication and information, not me.

I just think that you would fool yourself by protesting the show, worst if you really ban the show. Even my 3 year old nephew (no kidding, I’m serious) when he knew that this show was protested by you, asked his granny and I.

”Why Yepubyik Mimpi ic pyotested?”

“Because one of the ministers thinks it makes fun the leaders of this country.”

“Why he cinks co? Ic he the yeadey?”

“He’s a helper of the leaders.”

“Ay the yeaders angyie with the chow?”

“Don’t know. They don’t comment anything.”

“Why ic the heypey angyie?”

“That’s a good question. It seems that perhaps he will ban the show too.”

“What ic ban the show?”

“It means you cannot watch it on TV anymore. Stop the show. So no more Republik Mimpi on TV.”

“Ic it yaik I cannot cee Spongebob and Tom and Jeyie anymoy?”

“Sort of.”

“But Spongebob and Tom and Jeyie ay still on TV. Co why Yepubyik Mimpi not?”

“Because he doesn’t like it.”

“He not yaik it and can stop it? Can he stop Tom and Jeyie too?”

“If he can stop Republik Mimpi then he can stop Tom and Jerry.”

“Who doecn’t layk Tom and Jeyie? Can I ask the TV to stop boying cinetyon and yuns Tom and Jeiyie onyie?”

“Well you can try, but I doubt the TVs would listen to you.”

“Why not?”

“Because you are a small kid for them, not a president’s helper.”

“Can I do what I want if I am a pyesident’s heypey?”

And silence. So sir, conclude yourself. I believe I don’t need to compare you to a kid in diaper who cannot pronounce his name properly yet.

(Based on real conversation with a three year old boy who brings happiness and craziness with his endless questions in my life)

Note:

Yepubyik : Republic

Ic : Is

Heypey : Helper

Layk : Like

Ay : Are

Angyie : Angry

Yeadey : Leader

Cee : See

Chow : Show

Jeyie : Jerry

Boying : Boring

Cinetyon : Sintron (soap opera)

Onyie : Only

Yuns : Runs

Goofy Kami Mencintaimu

He said, "Goofy, we love you."

What Goes Around, Comes Around

When I was a kid, my religious teacher often told me, “What goes around, comes around. Respect others; help they who are in need, especially they who don’t beg, and never expect them to return your kindness to you. Simply do this as your gratitude to the Lord. Lord never leaves you behind.”

Almost 29 year old, after up and down, happiness and sadness, laughter and tear, being sensitive and ignorant, being humble and arrogant, playing dumb and critical, I agree with my teacher. What goes around, comes around. Help others without any expectation but as gratitude to God and universe, and universe will open up your way.

How Many Chillies are Needed?

Like other Indonesian families, my family enjoys various chilly sauces. Mum often grinds chillies with a pinch of salt and sugar, tomatoes, garlic and red onions, shrimp paste, mangoes and so on. It depends on the main dishes.

However, unlike most Indonesian families, my family doesn’t eat extremely spicy foods. So, if others need more than 5 chillies (some even needs more than 20 chillies), we are happy with 1-3 chillies, tiny ones. This morning mum asked me how many chillies I wanted for the chilly sauce, 2 or 3. I said 1.5 would be fine. So she chopped a tiny chilly and we had 1.5 chillies in the sauce, added with slices of mango, bunch.

For many Indonesians, chilly is an important ingredient. We need it in almost every meal we have. Few years ago, the price of chillies was rocketing high. It reached $9/kg, while before it was only 20 cents/kg. Surely many Indonesians were shocked, especially the poor who only could afford chillies as luxury in their lives. What did happen in my family? Mum and I (it was only us at home) only looked at each other and thanked God that we didn’t fancy spicy food so we’re fine.

Why Do I Get More Spicy Food?

I have some dearly friends from many races, ethnicities and background. Sometime it is annoying when I go out with my Caucasian friends, especially with they who have been living in Asia for years.

I recall how Thais keep talking to me when I go out with non Asian look friends. When I go out with my Austrian friend who speaks Thai better than I do, the Thais keep talking to me in Thai. It happens also when I go out with my English friends who speak Thai fluently (thanks J for reminding me this).

The worst thing is not about communication but the food. Both in Thailand and Indonesia, when I go out for lunch or dinner with my non Asian look friends I have got more spicy food than them. No matter how many times my friends and I explain the sellers, that my friends want more chillies and I want less, it's useless. I still get more chillies.

Still one of the most horrible food experiences is when I go for lunch with my old friend. He's an Acehnese and enjoys (according to me) extremely spicy food. One day he went to Bangkok for a workshop and I visited him. We went to a restaurant and ordered food. I ordered since he didn't speak Thai at all. I warned the waitress to not make the food spicy. My friend asked what I told the waitress and he said No No. He told the waitress he wanted to make it really spicy. The dishes came and I couldn't even smell it. It's too much. I tasted a bit, and found it was uneatable. So, other meals for me.

Another spicy experience is India. Some friends whom I met in India wondered how could this Indonesian chick complained about how spicy the food was. One lesson learned I got in India, always prepare water and milk to accompany my meals. When water cannot calm down my burning mouth, milk will solve the problem.

To an Ulf Wherever You Are

One day by chance I sent an sms to an unknown number. After about half an hour, I got a message from this unknown number. I said sorry for that mistake and he (later on I found that it was a he) said it was ok. He told me that his name was Ulf, but not related to Smurf even tho his name was similar. Indeed I thought it would be cute if he’s like Smurf, petit and blue.

Nothing was special about this incident. The funny thing is when I told my dear friend about this “presumably” good guy (well he forwarded back the message to me instead of ignoring it like what I usually did), she kneeled and prayed. She told me she prayed to Jesus, sought His help to let me meet him. I don’t even know him, the way he doesn’t even know me. I didn’t think about meeting him, and for sure he neither, but not this friend of mine. She believes that it would be great if I could meet him. Does she know him? Big NO.

Indonesians’ Staple Food

Indonesia is a pluralistic country, it lies between two continents, Asia and Australia. As the biggest archipelago country in the world comprises low and highlands, it is understandable that there are some staple foods in this country. The majority of Indonesians eat rice as their staple food, but there are also cassava, yams, taro, sago, corn and so on chosen as staple foods in this country. Papuans enjoy yams, taro and sago. Ambonese, even tho more and more eat rice, their staple food is sago. Madurese have corns. Dayaks (and maybe some other jungle tribes) eat yams and cassava.

Indeed these foods are not all. For some poor students in Jogja, city of education and culture in Indonesia, their staple food is instant noodle. What about in Meulaboh, West Aceh? Believe or not, my staple food when I lived there for few months after the tsunami was fried rice, not plain rice. For most of my living period there, I had fried rice at least twice a day. Fried rice with eggs, fried rice with chickens, fried rice with meats, well you just name it.

For years, my mum’s staple food was raw vegetable. After her brain surgery, mum only consumed milk and raw vegetables. Mum always says that she was like a cow.

What about me? What is my staple food? I think it’s seafood, fish mostly. So it is not rice with fish, but fish which sometimes with rice. Fried fish, steamed fish, baked fish, boiled fish, you name it. Last week my physician told me to limit my fish diet. He thought that the fat of seafood is not good for my ankle’s healing process. I was confused and asking him, what should I eat then. I asked my mum, “But all I have in my fridge is fishes and prawns. What will I eat then?”

Thank goodness, my ankle is fine now. No more cast and bandage. So, welcome back fish. I miss you badly.

Rimba Hati

Berjalan di tengah keramaian, kusadari bahwa aku sendiri
Orang sibuk berlalu-lalang, tapi yang ada hanya kesunyian di hati

Terpekur di tengah keheningan, kudapati aku berada di tengah keramaian
Detak jantungku terdengar begitu keras, berceloteh gembira dengan hatiku yang penuh nyanyian

Learning from Children

Indonesian is a contextual language, there is no tone and we don't have to pronounce words correctly. There is no complicated grammar either, no past, present and future tenses in Indonesian. I go yesterday, I go now, I go everyday, I go tomorrow and I have go, that simple.

Like other Indonesian families, my family does not speak Indonesian in appropriate grammar and pronunciations. We cut off and shorten words, especially the prefix, suffix and other ixes, including Asterix and Obelix. The term mengelem (=gluing) is pronounced ngelem only. We also mix some languages, so when we cannot find a term in Indonesian we simply jump and grab the similar term in other languages, English, Javanese, Banjar, or Dutch.

However, in this linguistic confused family, there is someone who speaks the most appropriate Indonesian. He speaks in an appropriate grammar and pronunciations even with his limitations. He doesn't cut off and shorten words, such as "mengelem", "mencintaimu" (love you), "memakan" (eating) and so on are pronounced grammatically perfectly right. That's a 3 year old boy. Perhaps it is time for adults to learn more from children and take children as role models.