We won't be taken down

It was Monday. A usual Monday in December. Cold. Cloudy.
My life has been flat for the last years, I didn't find it interesting enough to be written in the blog.

It was that Monday. I went to work in the morning. Nothing special happened except me discovering some mistakes on the experiment data. Never. trust. your. computer.
Who likes Monday, anyway?

Whoosh. Fast forward to the afternoon. After my saxophone class I went to have dinner with Mr. Neighbour at the Christmas market not far from where I live. Well, Christmas market is one of the highlights of December. It made the cold winter bearable. Glühwein and potato puffs (with apple mousse) are things you must buy from the market, at least once.

Because I planned to leave Berlin for several days and by the time I was back, the market would be closed, Mr. Neighbour suggested that we had potato puffs there.  So, our favourite place was this particular stand with a little kitsch decoration. It looked like a night club in the 70s. They also played oldies and Christmas songs, which would stay in your ears for hours after leaving the place.

With potato puffs and glühwein on the table, the Christmas in Berlin was complete. It was a normal dinner, really, until several minutes later. We heard quite disturbing sound. Boom! The light chains were moving like crazy as if somebody was pulling and waving them. I told myself, "Maybe a Christmas tree fell down". The lights of the stand across the street was out.

I continued my dinner, although the urge to find out what really happened was there. One thing I learned is that to always stay away from any incident site. We never know what would happened. Two old women behind me walked outside to find out what happened. One came back and said that a truck ran into the market. I didn't take it seriously and told Mr. Neighbour that the two women were being paranoid by associating the incident with the one that had happened in Nice, France. Sirene was heard. Police or ambulance was arriving.

We finished the dinner as if nothing happened. While waiting on the line to return the glasses and plates, one security guy came in and ordered the stand to be closed. The owner didn't like it. The security guy kind of screamed, "What the heck? Some people are dead and you still want to continue opening this stand?"

We walked out the stand. Policemen were outside, asking people to leave and setting police line. I looked around, tables were broken. One stand which sold Christmas decorations wasn't in a good shape. It didn't stand straight anymore. I just wanted to go home. I had a bad feeling. I checked the Internet. Nothing about the incident has been reported yet.

Fifteen minutes later I was home. I turned the TV on. There it was. It was claimed as terrorist attack. Ten people were dead, around 40 were injured. Berlin was in emergency state. I got a goosebumps. My days would never be the same again.

* * *

Two months after the incident. Flowers and candles are still there to remember those who lost their lives. Walking through that place gives you different feeling now. That place will always be the witness that we won't be taken down by such a terror attack.

A Tooth Fairy's Tale

When I was studying in the States, we were required to do some sort of assignments called “reflexive questions”. It consisted of several questions about activities you have done and how you felt and what benefits or loss you might conclude from the experiences. The purpose: do something, learn from it, which in the end, learn about yourself. That, plus the great possibility that I suffer from histrionic personality disorder (really, the more I think about it, the more I am sure I have a personality disorder), makes me reflect on what has just happened to me and the reason behind it.

Some of you who have known me for quite a long time – especially if we went to seafood restaurants quite often – might have seen me crushing crab shell or opening a bottle of beer or biting off a label tag with my teeth. You might have felt the pain within yourself, as if YOU yourself had done one of those things.

Well, last weekend I had toothache (again, the same tooth for probably the last three years). I knew it clearly, as it has always been, that I wasn’t fit. This particular tooth was filled when I was in the high school. And everytime I am dehydrated or about to catch a cold, it hurts, as if giving me signal that I need to pay attention to my body and health. I took it for granted. I drank a lot of water, slept or recuperated myself as soon as I noticed the signal. Good thing is: the pain went away as soon as my body was fit again.

But, this time, things are different. The pain stayed put. It dragged my gum since Thursday (or probably Wednesday) and didn’t go away until Monday, regardless what I did to reduce it. On Tuesday, I decided to see a dentist, which I believe is not anyone’s favourite thing. The dentist decided to drill a hole in that tooth so that the heat, as a side effect of inflammation on the gum, to break out from my mouth. I had to go back the next day. He couldn’t pull it out as the inflammation was still there. “Come back tomorrow and hopefully it is fit enough to be pulled,” he said.

On the next day, I was ready and so far three dentists have handled me. The newest dentist tried to pull the whole tooth. This is understandable as it takes shorter time, less work and everybody is happy. But he failed.

“I need to cut the tooth into two so that I can pull each part of the root,” he explained.

I looked at the four surgery lamps above me with the hope that they could blind all my senses. Maybe this is why people hate going to see dentist.

He finally cut it and tried one more time. I don’t need to explain how it felt like when he hold the half-tooth and made a circular movement. He couldn’t do it, either. Oh, good. Then came the second doctor, a rather cool one with ponytail. He took a look and took over the surgery. Oh, man, I bet he does weightlifting quite regularly. I even felt numb on my anaesthetized left jaw when he finally pulled out one part of the tooth.

Thanks. That helped.

The new doctor continued the work. After a little more efforts, he finally took the second part.

Oh, thank God.

“Wait, what is this part?”

Wait. What?

“There is something more. Be patient, we’ll be finishing soon,” he looked at me smiling, trying to soothe me.

After the cracking and wooshing sounds from the machine, the tooth was finally gone. And here comes the explanation.

“Your tooth has three roots, that’s unusual. As you may have known, most teeth have two roots only,” he showed me a picture of anatomy of tooth. “We didn’t see it on X-ray because the film is two-dimensional, and this one hide behind the other.”

“Another thing that makes our surgery today a little difficult is that the root is not pointy at the end as the usual root. Yours are a bit thick at the end. Imagine pulling a bended nail,” he smiled.

As a bonus, I was allowed to see my tooth before it was thrown away. I saw at least six pieces bloody calcium. 

What a tooth!

After that I kind of thought to myself: That is why, I was able to bite off those hard things. Some of them might have more than two roots. I felt grateful that I decided not to wear a brace seven years ago. Maintaining my uniqueness is more important than having the same look like others as I might be defined by my teeth.

Common Courtesy

If you are attending a meeting, a lecture or a conference in a hall, what are the common courtesies, especially regarding the noise?

Would you talk your friend sitting next to you every two minute or so?

No.

Even if you wanted to talk, would it be about the on-going lecture or mostly something totally unrelated to the topic?

Preferably regarding the topic: something I don’t understand, something I find interesting, something I want my friend to discuss with me later on.

Would you turn your phone to silent mode?

Yes. But sometimes I forgot and the host reminded the audience. It would be very embarrassing if my phone rang when the hall was silent.

If you didn’t know how, would you ask your daughter or somebody else to help out?

Good idea. My daughter might understand the gadget better than I do.

Even if that didn’t help, would you turn it off instead?

Uh, yes. I decided to attend the meeting, lecture, etc. That means I have already dedicated my time to the event. Unless something really urgent took place, other things going through my phone should wait.

Good. At least you know what the common courtesies in the meeting hall are.

Unfortunately, some Indonesians do not know these courtesies, at least in the event I was in today. Let me tell you more.

Every last Sunday of the month, there is a ‘sarasehan’ (discussion forum) at Rumah Budaya Indonesia (Indonesian Cultural Center) in Berlin. People (mostly German) who had been (or currently) living, working or studying in Indonesia are invited to share their experiences. It is a good way to learn about Indonesia, which is very rich in cultures and natural resources. And today’s topic is Makassar and I found this very interesting because as a person living in west part of Indonesia, Makassar and eastern Indonesia is as foreign as Timbuktu to me.

It started (surprisingly) on time with a guest speaker from Jakarta, a staff from Educational and Cultural Minister, proposing and asking feedback for government's plan to disseminate Indonesian Cultural Centers in several countries.

And so I was sitting quite in the middle row because the first 10 rows were occupied. Behind me sat two Indonesian women. One was in her 50-60s. Another one was in her 20s, probably her daugther. They were sitting next to the guest speaker’s assistant. As soon as the assistant left the seat, the two women started to discussed whether or not the assistant were married, whether or not she had close relationship with some prominent figures in Indonesia. They stopped when the assistant was back.

As the second speaker started to speak, the two women also started their own conversation. At the beginning it was about what the speaker was talking about. Oh, the speaker spoke German and without microphone. So, one of the women might not understand that well and need some explanation. Since my German is not good enough, I need to really listen, too.

Ten minute later, the women changed the topic: where to go on the weekend? why was A so late? what to buy for the house? Started to feel annoyed, I looked back with the hope they understood and stopped talking. Previously, a German woman had given the same look to them. They looked at me back, smiling. Good. They seemed understood my non-verbal language. Oh, I am glad I study psychology.

Two minutes later, the same thing happened again. I moved my chair a little bit forward, again, with the hope they understood I was disturbed. I wouldn’t care should they spoke some languages I didn’t understand. But I understood Indonesian and their voices were audible without me having to ‘really’ overhear them. I am a poor audible person and with the two ways of information sources, my mind found difficulties to divide the attention (although I didn’t want to know what they were talking about, but because I understood the language, my mind automatically processed the information, plus I needed extra concentration because my listening to German was not so good). Trying not to be rude, I applied every non-verbal language I could think of at that moment to tell the two women.

Ten minute later I gave up.

I decided to be a little bit assertive. I asked the two women not to talk too loud. The younger woman turned and looked at me. Her brows were raised closer, her left part of the lips were raised. Her head were raised a little bit. She rolled her eyeballs to the left, looking at me one more time. But after that, they decided not to talk and communicate using their Blackberries.

A ha!

Being assertive was not that bad at all. I got the silence for almost all the lecture until I heard a regular “triiiing” – typical BBM tone. But since it was almost at the end of the lecture and the ringtone didn’t break my attention, I could only shake my head everytime I heard the “triiiing” sound, again, with the hope they realized what they were doing.

After the lecture, I was relieved that I was finally free from the disturbance. I stood up and decided to go to toilet. I was waiting for the next person when the same woman looked at me disgustedly and furily from the line to the lunch table. It was the younger woman who sat behind me. I tried to smile but it didn’t seem to help. Everytime she had a chance, she looked at me, with the same expression. She and her family were talking to somebody working at the Embassy.

Maybe she thought she knew somebody important here and I didn’t have the right to tell them what to do in a meeting? Or who the heck was this new guy trying to tell me what to do in my territory?

Let me tell you girl, you are a representative of your country. Know the common courtesy and show a good image of an Indonesian. That will help creating good image of Indonesia abroad. Knowing somebody important in the Embassy doesn't mean you can do whatever you like. This rule applies everywhere, girl.

Okay, even if you thought my request was too direct and feel offended, hello??? How long have you been living in Berlin if you are not used to the openness and directness of Berliners? You may maintain all your values from Indonesia but if you don’t try to adapt and adjust to the new culture, believe me, you are not going anywhere.

Till we meet again.

From Paris With Love: O-esyiki

Minggu lalu saya berkesempatan mengikuti perayaan O-esyiki (upacara peringatan moksyanya Buddha Nichiren Daisyonin, upacara tahunan terpenting bagi umat Nichiren Syosyu di seluruh dunia) di kuil Shingyoji di Prancis. Berikut adalah kesan saya selama upacara dan perbandingannya dengan upacara yang diadakan di Indonesia.

18 Okt 2012 – Tiba di Paris

Berhubung hanya ada dua kuil di Eropa, yaitu di Prancis dan Spanyol, semua umat di sini “harus berkelana” ke salah satu kuil untuk mengikuti upacara yang dipimpin oleh Bhikkhu. Kemudian saya tahu dari salah satu umat Prancis bahwa Bhikkhu pimpinan kuil di Spanyol sedang sakit dan sudah kembali ke Jepang. Praktis, seluruh umat di Eropa hanya punya satu pilihan.

Saya dan seorang teman dari Medan memutuskan untuk berangkat dari Berlin menggunakan budget airline. Maklum, kami hanyalah mahasiswa dengan pendapatan pas-pasan. Perjuangan saya sendiri diwarnai dengan denda sekitar 40 Euro ketika ingin mencari tahu letak bandara. Pelajaran: kalau memang jodoh saya harus menghabiskan uang sejumlah tertentu, tidak ada cara untuk menghindarinya.

Kuil Shingyoji terletak di 25 Rue Carnot, Montreuil, Prancis. Montreuil adalah daerah pinggiran kota Paris, bejarak sekitar tujuh kilometer dari pusat kota. Kami sengaja mencari hotel yang dekat dengan kuil. Alasannya, lebih praktis dan bisa ditempuh dengan berjalan kaki sekitar 10-15 menit.

20 Okt 2012 – Upacara Ottaya

Karena acara gongyo sore diadakan pada pukul 15:00, kami pun mengarah ke kuil sekitar satu jam sebelumnya, setelah makan siang di daerah pecinan Paris. Dari statsiun terdekat, Croix de Chavaux – M9, kami harus berjalan mencari lokasi kuil. Untunglah kami punya peta di tangan dan dengan bantuan Google Map, kami berhasil menemukan kuilnya.

Melihat bentuk kuil di Prancis, gambaran saya tentang kuil agak terganggu karena kuil-kuil di Indonesia dan Jepang yang pernah saya lihat rata-rata berupa bangunan besar dengan ornamen-ornamen khas kuil seperti bentuk atap dan ukiran-ukiran. Kuil di Prancis terlihat seperti rumah penduduk lainnya: dua tingkat, berpagar dan bergarasi. Ketika melihat gambar kuil melalui Google Map, saya agak ragu sebenarnya. Tapi ketika tiba di tempat dan bertemu dengan orang-orang yang ramah dengan sapaan “Bonjour”, saya yakin bahwa kami tidak salah lokasi.

Di meja resepsionis, kami harus mendaftar ulang dan menitipkan jaket atau tas kepada penerima tamu. Umat tidak membayar untuk mengikuti upacara seperti di Indonesia, karena di sini tidak disediakan penginapan dan makanan berat. Juga tidak ada acara pertemuan atau kesenian seperti di Indonesia.

Ruangan gongyo terletak di lantai tiga. Sayang sekali, gongyo telah dimulai ketika kami tiba sehingga harus puas duduk di lantai dua dengan menonton dari televisi kecil yang disediakan.

Selesai gongyo dan sambil menunggu upacara Ottaiya pada pukul 16:30, kami pun berkenalan dan mengobrol dengan umat-umat dari negara-negara lain di Eropa. Sebuah pengalaman menarik bertemu dengan orang-orang yang percaya hukum agama Buddha di negara-negara yang didominasi agama Kristen. Kemudian saya tahu bahwa ada sekitar 200an umat dari Prancis, Austria, Belgia, Jerman, Italia, Serbia, Spanyol dan Swiss yang turut hadir dalam perayaan O-syiki kali ini.

Sekitar 15 menit sebelum upacara dimulai, panitia memberitahukan peserta untuk segera memasuki ruangan gongyo. Umat di sini agaknya lebih tertib dan teratur karena dalam sekejap, taman di belakang kuil yang tadinya ramai tiba-tiba menjadi lengang.

Saya pun naik ke atas, memasuki ruangan gongyo yang berukuran sekitar 4x10 meter. Tidak seperti di Indonesia, umat di sini berdoa dengan duduk di kursi panjang yang disusun berderet. Tiba-tiba saya teringat dengan vihara di Medan. Ruangannya cukup besar namun umatnya sering mengeluh viharanya terlalu kecil dan tidak terjaga.

Sekitar 100 orang mengikuti upacara Ottaiya. Ada yang datang sendiri, bersama pasangan atau keluarga. Melihat umat-umat yang semangat, saya jadi malu sendiri karena jarang gongyo di rumah.

Upacara harus dilakukan dua kali karena ruangan tidak cukup untuk menampung semua umat yang hadir. Karena tidak ada acara lain setelah itu, kami pun pulang sementara umat lain mengikuti upacara shift kedua.

21 Okt 2012 – Gongyo Pagi, Upacara O-esyiki dan makan siang

Gongyo pagi dimulai pukul 8:00. Karena bangun agak telat, kami harus buru-buru berjalan kaki tanpa sarapan terlebih dahulu. Untunglah kami tiba tepat waktu. Selesai gongyo, kami disuguhkan teh atau kopi.

Upacara O-esyiki shift pertama diadakan pukul 10:00. Kami mendapat shift kedua yang diadakan pada pukul 11:30. Sambil menunggu, umat berpindah ke bangunan di seberang sambil menonton video Tozan Umat Luar Negeri 2009. Karena rasa lapar yang tak tertahankan, saya memutuskan untuk keluar sambil mencari sarapan dan melihat daerah sekitar kuil dan berhenti di sebuah kedai kopi sambil mengamati kegiatan orang-orang di pasar tradisional Prancis.

Saya kembali ke kuil untuk mengikuti upacara, yang lebih kurang sama dengan upacara di Indonesia. Yang saya rindukan dari upacara di Indonesia adalah acara salam-salaman dan cipika-cipiki sembari mengucapkan “Selamat O-esyiki”. Sepertinya itu memang budaya khas Indonesia.

Selesai upacara, umat-umat berpindah ke gedung sebelah yang lebih besar untuk acara makan siang. Sepertinya gedung itu memang sering digunakan untuk acara lain seperti acara kesenian atau pemutaran film. Sambil menunggu, umat-umat bisa menonton video atau melihat galeri foto kegiatan umat Prancis. Sekali lagi, saya terkesima dengan keseriusan umat-umat di sini dalam melaksanakan hati kepercayaan.

Sekitar pukul 13:00, Y.A. Nakano, pemimpin kuil Shingyoji yang juga pernah bertugas beberapa tahun di Indonesia, memasuki ruangan. Seperti di Indonesia, umat-umat sangat antusias untuk mengobrol atau berfoto bersama. Umat-umat Indonesia yang sudah tinggal di Eropa pun tidak ketinggalan.

Salah satu hal yang menarik di sini dan tidak saya temukan di Indonesia adalah acara kan-pai atau bersulang. Setiap umat mendapat segelas kecil wine dan Y.A. Nakano membuka acara makan siang dengan memimpin kan-pai. Menu makanan juga khas Eropa: salad, keju, daging ayam, sejenis bruschetta (potongan roti dengan topping) dan cocktail snack. Acara makan siang seperti acara standing party. Umat mengambil makanan dan mengobrol sambil minum atau makan. Saya sendiri minum sekitar empat gelas kecil wine dan segelas kecil liquor sampai sedikit mabuk.

Pukul 16:30 diadakan gongyo sore dan pembagian bunga sakura kertas. Umat-umat pun pulang sembari menggenggam setangkai panjang bunga sakura berwarna merah jambu. Khas  O-esyiki. Ada beberapa umat yang ditanya warga sekitar tentang bunga tersebut dan mereka dengan senang hati menjelaskan tentang Buddhisme. Umat-umat pun kembali ke hotel atau langsung kembali ke negara masing-masing.

Selamat O-esyiki.

Foto bersama Y.A. Nakano, Vera Kusuma, Stephen dan Kirana

Urban Jazz Crossover 2012: Very Indonesia

Performers of Urban Jazz Cross Over 2012 Jakarta

As you entered the hall of Fairground (SCBD, Jakarta), you know that you are going to experience jazz in a new different way. You saw a lot of people waiting in line; the door to the concert hall wasn’t opened yet despite it was almost 7 p.m. You looked at the ticket you bought for IDR 100,000. It was written: concert starts at 7:30 p.m. Never mind, you said, it was Friday(13/7) night anyway.

Double Shots

As usual, I was sitting on a table in a coffee-chain store at a mall in Jakarta. My laptop was in front of me, a cup of half-drunk coffee stared at me, cables were around – adding a complete mess to the table.

I felt the urge to smoke a cigarette after sitting, working on my assignments for hours. I went outside to the smoking area.

Five minutes after my coming back to the table, a woman approached me. She was no more than 30 years old. She introduced herself, asking for my time. I said yes.

Transjakarta Has Ladies Area in the Bus

Ladies, you are special in Jakarta!

I found this out when I stepped into the (reliable?) public transportation in Jakarta called Transjakarta this morning. As usual, river of people flew from the waiting station to the bus after waiting for a couple of minutes. Because the front part of the bus was a bit vacant (compared to the packed rear part of the bus), I walked forward and held on the rail. I never expect to get a seat in the “busway” (called this way because the bus has a special lane on the street, in short, busway). Some lucky women who got the seats looked at me. Because of my hairdo? No. As the bus went on, I looked around and read everything readable. Then my eyes stuck at a sticker on the window.“Ladie’s area” is written. (I have to admit, the people working in the company might not have good English).

Ending Is Another Beginning

Without realizing it, time has flown. I felt like we were asked to learning blogging and multimedia journalism a week ago and now this will serve as the last post for the class.

I have been involving in more news story journalism during the past two quarters, so I got a bit of overview about what journalism is about.  It is about gathering facts (information) and presenting them in a good flow of story to the public. It was more about writing a news story or brief. However, Multimedia Journalism class has brought me to another level of reporting news. Journalism is not only about written stories. There are a lot of ways to present an idea.

Let’s start with slideshows. I mean, just a couple of pictures and cutlines arranged in a comprehensive flow of story can be a powerful reporting media. Even though I was a bit confused with the regular cutlines in my slideshow, I think creating a slideshow is a doable task. People say, a picture can say 1000 words. Forget the hustle bustle of text, here are the pictures of what is happening.

Pictures also serve as descriptive tools on a narrative. I remembered a friend of mine using pictures of closed-down buildings to describe his editorial about the impact of financial crisis on small business. Should that editorial go plain narrative, I wouldn’t have felt touched. As I might going on a career as a photojournalist, this class (along with my internship and college newspaper assignments) has taught me the importance of pictures and how to produce a storytelling picture.

I have been blogging (mostly for my own life journal) for about seven years now but only recently did I learn about using blog for journalistic purpose. I read some journalistic blogs before but never really thought of using mine to serve that purpose. Hence, another new idea on developing my blog.

The last thing that I don’t really think I would go on is video reporting. It is nice to see the final product but the works do not worth the outcome. It takes too many working hours but will attract less viewership compared to the written article or slideshow. However, the class has pushed me to work with storyboard and recording video interview, which I would reluctant to do. I have had this kind of anxious talking with or interview people for my story, and plus asking permission for video recording? Too much. Nevertheless, I kind of broke through my own boundaries. To be honest, I started to enjoy interviewing people and writing stories.

Too bad that the class is about to end. But no matter what, I will carry on with the skills I learned. As I said before, I’m planning on being a photojournalist, for real!

Keep the fingers crossed.

Once Upon A Time in Lona Vista

“My homesick is kind of cured” my friend, Mr. OCD, told me when we were sitting in the dark at the kitchen. Two candles accompanied us on that chilly, windy Sunday night.

“What makes you say so?” I asked while sipping a cup of cold coffee.

“Yeah, with this black out. It gives me the sense that I’m back at home, not in the US,” he smiled innocently – actually it was ghastly with the light flaring from the candle. (if you watch Indonesian horror movies a lot, you’ll know what I mean)

I smiled back, signaling an agreement.

Wait a minute… Black out in the US? How could that be possible? You might think that only in Indonesia you get a frequent black out.

Need more explanation? Let’s go back to few hours earlier.

11. 00 a.m.

I woke up late. Who doesn’t want to wake up late on Sundays? Raise your hand!

You wake up late, too? Good. Yeah. I think I deserve a long sleep after the shocking first week of college life. You know, after living leisurely for a quite a while, readings and tons of assignments (it's a hyperbole) had sucked up all my energy (another hyperbole. So, pretend you don’t really read that). From outside my bedroom, I could hear the buzz from a machine. I walked out to the kitchen with the intention of having a glass of water. Oh, I wished I could sleep a little longer.

As soon as I stepped into the kitchen, my roommate, Mr. Batak rushed into the room. He looked half panic, half excited.

“Hey, you know what has just happened?” he asked. I could not recognize if he were smiling.

“No…” my mouth stayed in “o” form for a while. How could I know? I had just awaken!

“Come here,” he was now at the window of the kitchen, pulling up the blind.

“Do you see a police car down there?” he pointed to the north and I saw the blinking red-and-blue light.

I nodded.

“Do you see that pole?” he moved his index finger to the right.

I followed his hand and saw the fallen pole and some wires on the ground.

“That pole fell down and, congratulation, we have no power at the apartment,” he moved his head left to right (like an Indian), his favourite gesture.

“What?” suddenly I was awake, “we can’t cook? “

“Don’t be saaaad..” his favourite answer

“No hot shower?”

“Don’t be saaaaad…”

12.00 p.m.

After a quick cold shower, I walked outside to find out what really happened. Now I could see several workers were using a tool to pull the wire from the pole (the one that was still standing). The wind still blew hard. FYI, yesterday night was very, very windy. On the stair level (this is the level between two slanting stairs, like this -->__/… Oh never mind that, I need to check my dictionary, anyway) stood the next door guy from Vietnam, Nguyen (this, of course, is not his real name. I just want to make it sounds Vietnamese)

“Hi” I greeted him. It’s kind of a culture here in Everett to greet every people you meet.

“Oh, hi,” he smiled at me.

“How you doing?” (I know, it’s grammatically wrong)

“Oh, I almost died today,” he smiled bitterly.

“How come?”

“Yeah… you see that circular thing on the pole?” he pointed another pole on the next side of the street.

“Yes. What’s wrong with that?”

“Whew, I was standing at this side, the one near to our complex, to smoke a cigarette when I heard an explosion. That circular thing exploded right in front of me.”

“Gosh… what did you do then?” –stupid question

“I ran. Of course.”

“Whew... lucky you, didn’t get hit or injured”

“Yes,” he seemed reluctant to remember that horrible moment and changed the subject, “they react very quickly.”

“You mean the workers?” another stupid question.

“In my country, it will take 3-4 hours before the people come and fix the thing.”

“I see. How long did it take for them to come and fix this pole?”

“Ten minutes, fifteen minutes.”

Yeah, it was fast. I remembered when a storm hit Medan several years ago and brought down a big tree and a billboard. The tree and the billboard was left on the street for almost half a day, causing a road blocking.

9.00 p.m.

Ting-tong.

Somebody rang the bell. I opened the door. A man in his forties stood there, he wore a stabilo-green vest and a yellow helmet.

“Good evening, we are going to shut the power off for a while.”

“Oh, okay.”

The power was back since 1 p.m., actually.

“Who’s that?” Mr. Batak’s face showed up behind his laptop screen.

“The man who works on the electric pole. He said they will cut the power off in 15 minutes.”

“Whaaattt?? I need to save my work now. I haven’t finished it yet….” Panic, he sank his head into the laptop again.

“Don’t be saaadd...,” I imitated him

My phone rang. Oh, Mr. OCD.

“May I help you, Sir?” my favourite greeting on the phone.

“Yes. I need your help badly.”

“What can I do for you, Sir?”

“Can you please go upstairs? My roommate is out and they are going to cut the power off in 15 minutes.”

“Oh, okay.”

I walked out, stepped on the stairs and, da-raaa, I was in front of his room. Don’t be surprise. My room is exactly under his room.

“Why do you smile?” he asked as I was sitting by the dining table

“I know why you call.”

“He he he …” he grinned innocently.

He is a man, older than I (I hope he doesn’t read this part), but he is afraid of dark and doesn’t like to be left alone. He is a hen-hearted (I’m not sure this will be the best word to use).

On the table, I saw two candles and a small box of matches. Ready to be used.

And here the story started (or ended)

The power was off.

We lit the candles.

And brought back our little memory of home, curing our homesick

An Afternoon in A Park

A man (probably in his 30s) is rowing a brown boat. In front of him sit a blond woman(it might be his wife) and a cute girl (probably their daughter). The water reflects sparkling sun shine. A duck is swimming, or I should say, sailing  silently in the middle of the pond  (or a made-up lake?). And here I am, sitting on a green bench, 50-meter away from the pond, watching people rowing their boats or simply sit on the grass, enjoying the sun in the spring time. Once in a while, a bicycle or two come past in front of me. The first time in my life enjoying myself sitting in a park surrounded by greening trees.  

Yes, until now, I still find it hard to believe that I have stepped up my feet on Europe. The real Europe town, not just pictures I usually saw on TV shows or magazine such as Nat. Geo. The first realization came when I was still sitting on my economy class plane. It’s a good thing to choose a window seat. I could see what’s outside. Actually, most of the scenery you will find is dull white clouds (hopefully, not grey ones, or prepare for a shake!) or blue sky.

I looked at the display. 50 mins before landing. Gee, it was a long flight! I was not feeling quite well after a small bottle of free-on-board red wine. I could sense that my face was flushing. I could not go to sleep anymore. In fact, I have had enough sleep. I have watched all the film I wished to watch and found it a little silly to start a new movie as I would have never finished it. Again, I looked at the display which now showing the route the plane had been taking. We were somewhere in Poland! Another excitement popped up when I read the names of the cities on the display. Those names only come to me during the classes of Geography or Social Science. Or when we, my friends and I, as kids, used to play “Mention the name of countries or cities”.  Gosh, do I really fly over those cities?

Being bored, I looked at the window. Land! Green in color, with some red spots. I kept telling myself: Europe! Is this really true?

Duck on Boat

I don’t know how to describe the feeling in words. I mean, when I was a kid, let’s say 9 years old, I used to read a kid magazine. I remembered my teacher (she taught Bahasa Indonesia) asked me to ask my mom to subscribe a magazine for kids with blue bunny as the main character. In that magazine, sometimes there were reports about other cities in Indonesia or other cities. And you know, as a kid, I usually dreamt that one day I would visit one of those cities, just to see it for real – not only great scenery pictures.  Then, TV came into my life, which even gave more dreams because not only did I “see” stories but also motion pictures, video, and sounds. “It’d be nice to visit those places one day”, I told myself.

Then I grew up. I read more, I watch more and I listen more. All in all, the asian countries seem somewhat easier to reach. I mean, thanks to budget airlines which make everybody can fly, so that I had a chance to visit several places in Asia and beautiful Indonesia. (Now my appreciation towards Indonesia’s nature is even more).

A woman sits next to me. She is carrying a cute baby. She put a bottle of water to the baby’s mouth.

I took a deep breath. Still can’t believe in myself, but it’s for real now.           

Here I am now, in Der Bürgerpark, Bremen. 

Good Old Time

Since my friendster blog is under maintenance (they are going to release a new Friendster, which I think will be imitating Facebook, oh crap), I can’t really blog…

However, you can still read them at j4ck-boy.blog.friendster.com

So, here is my new ‘home’ for “It’s A Break” until I find out how to resolve the problem.

Today, I have just found a ‘new’ toy. It’s not a real toy, actually. I was like giving a tour to my friend about where and how I live here in Bremen. And big thanks to her, I found out how to use a vinyl record player!

Well, Toto, whose flat I’m living right now, used to be an Indies music player. He can sing and is able to play accordion and piano. He used to record the music from his band in vinyl. From what he told me, the records were compilations he made with street musicians across Germany. And of course, I can see a stack of vinyl records here in the flat.

In case, you might ask, what a vinyl record is…. So, before the era of CD, DVD or event cassette ( I guess), people used to record and play music in a black vinyl disc. It looks like a usual disc (at the moment) with the size of LD (Laser Disc). It was so popular in the 60s-70s. (Remember, LD, CD and their friends weren’t exist at that time). In the old time, people play the vinyl using a player called gramophone (if you like old movies, you might notice it)

So, when giving a tour, I found a vinyl record player at the corner of my room. To be raised in CD era, vinyl records are some strange things for me. I have seen them in TV programs or films, but never really experience to use the real thing. Let’s say I came out of a jungle and knew no such “advanced” thing. So, I tried to find out how the player worked. Actually, it’s a rather ‘modern’ version of gramophone (minus the big brass phone-speaker).

I tried to browse on Toto’s vinyl collections and fascinated by them. There are a lot of albums, which I have in my computer such as Beatles, Rolling Stones, Bob Dylan. I might sound stupid but to find the ‘original’ version of what I’m having right now (they are all digitalized) is some kind of great thing!

So, I picked one record and played it. Put the black disc on the player, lift up the needle and put it on the spinning disc. And taraaaa…!!! John Lennon sings his famous Imagine in ‘original’ version. Although I’m no expert in music, I feel back to basic, when everything was so simple and lively.

It was so nostalgic. Not to say that today’s inventions are bad, but as if I could turn back time, I felt excited that I could still do what people in the old good time did.

Ah, tomorrow, I will want to play Bob Dylan or Cat Stevens…  (maybe Mozart and Heydn)