seat number three

20:15
Departing. Dunno how to recline my creaking seat. The advertised headphone as part of vehicle facility had gone kaputt, leaving only a knotted cord. I asked the girl in seat number six about the way to recline my seat.

20:20
Seat #5: "What's yours?"
Seat #6: "Two point nine seven."
Seat #5: "That's quite an achievement. Mine is zero point nine seven."

"..aku bukan siapa-siapa.. untukmu..." (ring ring.. the cellular phone rang) "Cok lon di Fatmawati. Jak ngen moto, beuh.. Fatmawati beuh.. Ka beuh.."

20:30
Irfan Herlambang
09-Jul-08 20:17
Fwd: Trima kasih saya ucapkan atas semua pengetahuan dan bimbingannya selama 3 hari di setiabudi. insya ALLOH manfa'at dan barokah.

20:40
Thinking about "Plurk" that Toni showed this afternoon. I'm just being too paranoid

20:45
Busy securing my laptop bag, two packs of steamed brownies and camera case (loaded with US$350 office camera). I'm being paranoid again, although I'm actually inside an intercity shuttle service, not in a more thief-prone night train. But still tho..

21:15
Dots of lights deep in the darkness. Looks like a plant.

21:20
Cows' butts on a semitrailer truck.

21:30
"I feel kinda sad. I got rejected. Yasmin went back to her ex. Where are you?"

Forcing my cellular phone to restart aka opened the battery latched and pulled out the battery. Too slow to play music and games at the same time.

21:35
"Well.. she said there was no chemistry. D'oh.. of course, it's only been a month.."

21:40
"Yes, talking on the cell.. It's ahy ěm θriː that I'm using."

21:45
Counting minutes. Where's Fatmawati?

21:50
Cursing myself not to make any efforts to by an MP3 player.

"..swear, I'll never get married.. That's what she said in front of her ex.."

21:55
"Yeah, I plan to go out. With a guy."

21:00
"I'm on the way, Man!"

Bekasi Square. A copy of European castles. Highway lights! Uh oh.. I'm blind..

"Hana.. Di jalan tol.. Honda jeut? Hana.. Ka beuh.."

22:05
The car picks up its speed. Hurrah!

"..Jati Asih.. Ka beuh?"

22:15
Where's my left loafer??

22:20
A neon sign read "Leading the Human Development Paradigm" by TB. Simatupang highway. What a brand..

"Where are you? Slept already? Pick up mummy, okay. Now."



Note:
This is my record of a two hours non stop travel from Bandung to Jakarta, using an intercity shuttle service with seven passengers and a driver. We left Bandung at 20:15 and reached Jakarta at 22:25.

Words typed in regular style are my thoughts, while those in italics belongs to people sitting around me. Each line represents a person's voice.

"I'm Huge in Hong Kong"

Don
Keributan itu terjadi tahun 1988, memaksa Tri Sabdono ganti merek. Terbitlah “Bre Redana”. Akunya, “Bre” digunakan orang Batak untuk menjelaskan garis ibu (saya sendiri kurang paham maksud dari “menjelaskan garis ibu” ini). Sisanya tak berarti. Andreas Harsono, mentor kami memanggilnya “Don”, dan Bre Redana memanggilnya “Harsono”. Don juga mengaku sulit menulis panjang, padahal itu tuntutan wajib kelas menulis narasi yang menghadirkan beliau siang itu, di rumah makan berlabel “Warisan Kuliner Indonesia”, label yang sedikit diprotes Andreas Harsono, mentor kami di Kelas Menulis Narasi-Pantau, yang memang kritis pada banyak hal. Hari itu kelas kami berniat menambang wawasan dari reporter gaek yang siang itu mengenakan kaos merah gambar sketsa “Hong Kong Phooey” bertuliskan “I’m Huge in Hong Kong”.


Sreg
Sebagian besar dari peserta kelas khawatir tidak bisa menulis panjang dengan macam-macam alasan. Don sendiri tidak peduli panjang-pendeknya tulisan. Baginya, ketika kita punya kebutuhan untuk mengungkapkan sesuatu, maka hal itu harus diungkapkan dengan pas dan kita harus sreg dengan bentuk yang ingin kita ungkapkan. Bingung? Kira-kira intinya begini, kalau ingin menulis, harus langsung menulis dan harus merasa pas dan nyaman dengan panjang, pendek, tipe dan gaya tulisan. “Sreg itu penting buat penulis.” Katanya Don gitu. Selain itu, “Penulis harus menemukan dirinya sendiri. Harus punya gaya.” Imbuhnya.


Panjang-pendek
Soal panjang-pendek tulisan, Harsono dan Don punya kisah. Harsono bilang, Janet Steele (jurnalis beken dari Amerika Serikat) mengkritiknya karena gaya tulisan Harsono khas wartawan Indonesia. Barangkali karena tidak panjang. Harsono juga menambahkan, di Indonesia wartawan kurang punya kesempatan berlatih menulis panjang karena industri media Indonesia berpendapat tidak ada yang mau baca tulisan panjang. Sebuah media cetak besar dulu punya liputan bersambung untuk memecah tulisan panjang, namun sekarang sudah tidak ada. Apalagi sejak layoutnya ditata makin kompak. Menurut Don, di negara Barat ada istilah ”sabbathical leave”, semacam cuti panjang bergaji untuk wartawan dan cuti itu bisa digunakan untuk keperluan macam-macam, yang penting bisa lari dari rutinitas harian untuk kemudian melakukan kegiatan lain. Barangkali, ada juga wartawan yang lalu memakai cuti panjangnya untuk menulis (yang juga) panjang.

Obsesi Don pada segala hal yang berbau kota (baca: urban) dan post modernisme nampaknya menjelaskan kerajinannya mengulas kosmetik bermerek hingga masalah ruang di perkotaan. Tapi saya lupa tanya kenapa ia menggilai masalah itu.


Struktur di balik Struktur
Dari peluncuran sebuah produk pewangi badan bermerek, Don mengamati struktur kekuatan di balik struktur bangunan mal mewah Indonesia (setidaknya Jakarta). Konon, tahun 1825 Guerlain, tukang parfum Paris sukses membuat esens aroma minyak wangi. Alhasil, pewangi badan kaum elit itu bisa dipasarkan ke seluruh dunia dan disemprotkan oleh kaum di luar elit. Konon, toko besar eksklusif di sebuah mal di Jakarta menggariskan Cuma merek eksklusif kelas dunia yang bisa nangkring. Lokal dilarang. Ini soal image, Bung. Secara galak, meski punya duit untuk sewa lahan atau bikin merek baru atau punya merek lokal, tetap tidak bisa memasukkan barang karena mereknya belum mendunia. Lalu, benda-benda merek wahid itu dibeli putus alias beli barang dan barang lalu jadi hak pembeli. Jika tak laku, barang lantas dijual dengan diskon. Sedikit banyak, praktek ini menyisakan untung buat pembeli yang menjual. Untuk merek lokal, barang dibeli dengan sistem konsinyasi alias jual titip. Artinya, apabila produk tak laku, maka produk harus hengkang dari si toko dingin. Bicara soal Asia Tenggara, di Bangkok produk lokal dapat tempat di mal besar, dengan biaya sewa lahan lebih murah pula..

Yang menarik, seorang rekan sekelas menambahkan, mal mewah membagi kelas pembeli tiap lantai. Biasanya, lantai satu untuk pembeli kelas A atau kelas menengah ke atas, lantai dua untuk kelas AB atau menengah saja dan lantai tiga, dia bilang kelas BC atau ”brondong”, istilah anak muda gaul.


Lihai
Garis bawah dari cerita Don adalah, penulis harus lihai menangkap isyu. Dia suka mengulang kata ”alert” ketimbang lihai. Banyak baca adalah keharusan berikutnya. Lelaki rambut panjang warna ”salt and pepper” alias abu-abu itu mengangkat buku saku dengan sampul warna hitam. Tadi dia sempat berkunjung ke toko buku kecil di sayap kanan restoran dan membeli beberapa buku: ”Hard Times” (Charles Dickens), ”The Graduate” (Charles Webb) dan entah apa lagi. Don mulai cerita lagi. Tentang kota. Katanya, buku ”Hard Times” berkisah tentang kota London. Bicara soal kota, orang banyak mengira kota dibangun sebagai pusat ekonomi. Padahal, sejarah menunjukkan kota dibangun karena alasan spiritual, sebagai tempat pemujaan. Ketika revolusi industri, baru kota dibangun sebagai pusat industri.


Bintaro
Sebagai penghuni perumahan Bintaro selama 13 tahun, Don punya pengalaman menarik. Pada malam terakhirnya sebelum pindah ke Ciawi, pembantu rumahnya bertanya, ”Pamit ke siapa ya, Pak?” Demi etika, karena mereka telah tinggal lama di Bintaro dan akan pindah esoknya, lebih afdol kalau mohon izin atau pamit kepada tetangga sekitar. Pertanyaan itu membuat Don seperti disambar badai. Dia baru sadar, tak ada satu pun tetangga yang ia kenal. Jadi, dia tidak bisa pamit. Satu-satunya manusia yang tinggal di sekitar rumahnya dan ia tahu betul namanya adalah Pak Sukro, sang satpam lingkungan. Setelah Don pamit, Pak Sukro lantas mengunjungi rumahnya. Mulia sekali.. Untuk menyodorkan map seraya berkata, ”Pak, iuran satpamnya dibayar dulu ya..” Tragedi sosial..



Profesi
Seorang rekan lain bertanya, bila profesi menulis yang ia lakoni sekarang diterjuni sebagai pilihan atau karena tak ada pilihan. Jawaban laki-laki yang tawanya memunculkan sederet gigi putih sehat ini munder puluhan tahun ke masa sekolah dasar. Dulu, sekolahnya sering mengajak murid-murid pesiar ke kota-kota terdekat di luar kota asal. As a catch, setiap murid wajib bikin laporan. Cerita Don tentan kunjungan ke Rawa Pening ia kawinkan dengan Baudrillard tentang kesadaran. Jadi begini, Jean Baudrillard bersabda, kesadaran manusia ditentukan oleh narasi. Saat itu, populasi ular masih tinggi di Rawa Pening. Guru Don meminta agar anak didiknya tidak mengganggu ular karena konon ular-ular itu ada hubungannya dengan legenda Baru Klinting. Kemudian, Bre baru sadar bahwa himbauan itu dikeluarkan agar ekologi Rawa Pening tak diusik. Contoh Baru Klinting dan pelestarian ekologi inilah perwujudan nyata dari sabda Beaudrillard tadi, bahwa kesadaran orang tentang pelestarian ekologi rawa dipengaruhi oleh legenda si Baru Klinting.


Zich
Ada turning point dalam kerja tulis-menulis Don. Sekitar tahun 1983-1984, jurnalis National Geographic bernama Arthur Zich bertandang ke Jakarta untuk menulis tentang Indonesia. Oleh kantornya, Don diminta menyetir mobil kantor, mangantar Zich ke mana dia mau. Upahnya, dia dapat kuliah malam soal menulis yang baik dan benar. Waktu itu, Don bingung melihat Zich bertemu dan berbicara dengan begitu banyak orang dari berbagai latar belakang kehidupan. Bagaimana nanti Zich akan menulis secara menarik dari hasil wawancaranya?

Zich yakin, masalah Indonesia adalah jumlah penduduk yang terlalu banyak. Sebagai bahan tulisannya, dia ingin mengikuti proses kelahiran seorang bayi. Karena tak mau cari cara mudah nongkrongin rumah sakit, keduanya keluar-masuk kampung, cari ibu yang akan melahirkan bayi. Tibalah kedua ksatria jurnalisme itu di Dataran Tinggi Dieng. Entah bagaimana, mereka tiba di sebuah gua. Zich ingin bertemu dengan kuncen gua tersebut. Dia lalu mewawancarainya. Usut punya usut, ternyata gua tersebut tempat kramat dan konon, RI-1 jaman itu sering bertapa di situ. Si kuncen pun menunjuk helipad di sekitar lokasi gua.

”Politik Indonesia tidak didasarkan pada konsesus, tapi pada wahyu.” Demikian kalimat pamungkas Zich. Kami yang duduk melingkar di dekatnya sedikit tersentak. Don kemudian menambahkan, bahwa wawancara adalah proses konfrontasi kesadaran. Ketika kita wawancara orang, kita juga dituntut berpikir dan hendaknya membuka kesadaran kita tentang suatu hal yang sedang dibahas.



Yang lucu
Masih tentang Zich. Beberapa tahun kemudian, masih pertengahan 80-an, Zich kembali ke Indonesia dan mewawancarai RI-1. Pokok bahasan utama tentunya keberhasilan pembangunan Indonesia masa itu. Kelar diskusi soal kesuksesan, Zich bertanya tentang kritik yang beredar bahwa pembangunan hanya dikuasi keluarga sang pemimpin. Konon sang pemimpin senyum dan berkata bahwa mereka yang melihat pembangunan dengan cara itu hanya lihat dengan sebelah mata. Dasar wartawan, Zich menimpali, bahwa sebagai tentara, dengan melihat sebelah mata, maka sasaran yang dibidik pasti kena. Konon lawan bicara Zich berkata bahwa dengan menutup kedua matanya pun ia masih bisa mengenai bidikannya. Detik itu juga Zich angkat kaki.

Ketika seorang rekan bertanya tentang ukuran ketrampilan menulis, Bre Redana menjawab ringan, bahwa ia selalu minta ibunya untuk memeriksa tulisannya, karena ibunya adalah orang yang sederhana. „Kalau ibu saya bisa mengerti, artinya tulisan saya bisa dimengerti.“


=================================

Tips:
Arahkan mouse ke atas gambar untuk membaca caption foto..

Hong Kong Phooey's image diambil dari:
http://www.myspace.com/sabrekitty77

umberto the funny one at poncowinatan

Sisi Mewek (Crying Sisi. Sisi is a girl's name in Indonesian). It's actually a guy. A real heterosexual man who goes by the handle of xixviiimcmlxxv at yahoo! messenger. I call him "Sisi Mewek" only because properly pronouncing his name twisted my tongue.

This guy is a pack of fun. Graphic design, literature and girls are his domain. Our first communication was through a chatting window in a very popular chatting software back in mid 90s called "mIRC". Our first in real life (IRL) meeting was on an empty desk in some godforsaken cybercafe tucked deep into the jungle of Gajah Mada University in Central Java. He was sleeping on the desk and I was observing the desk. That was 1998. Now is 2005.

From time to time, whenever we have the chance, we will hail each other and strike up conversations. Subjects may differ. Mostly books, what's hype and what's not in town, graphic design, web design, et cetera. In fact, I learned the logic and principle of web design from this toothpick-thin guy. Well, a part from that, his girls will be everywhere in the conversation.

Talking to Sisi Mewek is like watching American Sitcom. It's "Sex and the City", "Friends", "3rd Rock from the Sun", "The Nanny", "Alf" and "The Jeffersons" all rolled into one. He's hillarious.

This time, he hailed me at my yahoo! messenger. He wanted me to tell him a story. "Anything. Give me any story." And I said no, as I was editing an article for the company web site. He went back up afterhour. "Tell me a story. Anything. Kancil nyolong PDA*?" (A mouse deer who steals a Personal Digital Assistant). Then he rambled about "Blonde Redhead" and "Portishead" and "Interpol". Bands. Music. He cursed me for listening to "Rammstein". Oh well, I guess I'm that old.

I told him I'm going "haruking" now. Taking up Haruki Murakami. Something absurd. Above reality. Weird. Mesmerizing. Like chewing the finest chocolate one bit to another.

"Seems like Eco." I've heard of Umberto Eco, but never read his work. Sisi Mewek said Eco is interesting. A bit hyperrealistic as well. "I've read his work. 'How to travel with smoked salmon' that is." He continued. I asked him whether Eco is a man of 21st century since I'm so not into classic men such as Shakespeare. I have a hard time imagining anything before the era of the Internet. "Hm, there might be two Ecos. But Umberto is the funny one." He said he read it at a friend's house. Well, his best best friend actually. This well-read gay guy at Poncowinatan Street, a residential area in downtown Yogyakarta, the cultural city of Central Java.

"Whose book that you read?" As far as I'm concerned, this guy can't afford a book and will never buy one if it's available for free on the net. Well, there are those free E-book these days.

"I don't know. It was just lying around so I grabbed and have fun with it." Then he added, "Hm, I think it belongs to Alia. Alia Swastika. Ever heard that name?" Pretty strange name.

"What's her relations to Hitler?" Sisi Mewek laughed out loud.

Alia Swastika is the editor of "Kunci Cultural Studies". Then he went on about this Alia girl is the friend of Nuning, again a girl's name. Nuning Juliastuti.

"Who? Your significant other?" He denied that verdict.

"Antariksa and her are the founders of Kunci."

I went into gossiping mode, "They were couple, weren't they?"

"Was."

"Oh well, college memory. Tastes good. Feels good. When you're about to swallow it, it's so poisoning.."** Then both of us switched into gossiping mode. I was wondering what happened to the Antariksa guy. Antariksa actually means "Outer Space". "Where did he go? He was finally aware of his fate and leave Princessa Nuning on Earth?"

"Of course not. They are still at "Kunci"." Literally, "kunci" means "key" or "lock".

So I asked him, "Who locked them up?"

"The janitor?" He went on about them getting scholarship out of the country. "At Poncowinatan." He was referring to his gay best friend's place.

"Nuning wasted her knowledge there?"

"A lot of people stopped by over there. Hey, 'meet me at the ponc' is the buzz word in Yogya these days." He said proudly.

"Ponc?" My eyes wide opened. "It doesn't sound right. Not 'slurut' enough."

"Slurut?"

"Well, slurut is this feeling you get when you're letting your tongue swim into your significant other's throat."

"WHUD?"

And we found a new word between us. And had a good laughs again. That's Sisi Mewek. His name is actually Dewa Widyakumara. Well, I got rid of this two middle names.


*"Kancil nyolong PDA" is in Javanese, a widely spoken language of Java ethnics in Indonesia. Kancil means "mouse deer" in English. In Indonesian children folklore, mouse deer is often portrayed as thief. The most famous story is about a mouse deer who steals cucumber harvest of a farmer.

**The Indonesian version of this sentence is: "Enak dikecap. Enak dikunyah. Pas mau ditelan.. lho kok ngeracunin?"

the green bugs invasion!

Have you ever lied down, facing up the bedroom's ceiling at two o'clock in the morning and suddenly you feel like experiencing an eternal moment? The outside world radiates a perpetual serenity. It was only you and the bedroom's ceiling.

At two o'clock in the morning, suddenly a glitch in your brain built up such a strong chemistry reaction that forced your weary eyes to open wide to meet your matte colored ceiling. And like I said above, your horizon was perpetual serenity and your vertical was the dull-colored ceiling.

For a nanosecond, you were pretty sure that everything was going to be all right. Forget insomnia, forget nightmares, and forget fantasy. It was just you, your ceiling and that perpetual serenity. And you were in a dream-state condition. And it was fine. You were ready to embrace your true seven hours of serenity. Again. Before long, you realized that your window was wide open. And then it came to your senses that you are not alone in this room.

A buzzing sound from your three o'clock warped up towards you. It won't stop! And it's alive! But then again, remember, you were in a dream-state condition that does not allow you to be responsive to anything. Before it hits you, it hurled itself up. Faster than your eyes. Before it hits the ceiling. "Thwab!" You thought it was dead and you could seize your peace again. Until you realize that it was flying in circle around the round white lamp of your room. "Zzzinggg.. Thump!" Over and over and over again. If that small flying thingy is a human being, that human being must be having a very hard time to end his or her life. It came across you that that thing was small. Against the ceiling, that thing would sure be dead. You were wrong.

It went down straight to you in a full speed. It decided to confront you eye to eye. It was floating on your eye level. That nasty little stuff that just ruined your serene little moment was a huge green bugs you've never seen before. A huge green bugs that flies and buzzes. Was there any horn on the front? No, there wasn't any. But didn't it cross your mind that it might hit you in a full speed any nanosecond from now? The cover, quick, quick! The bedcover, the blanket, anything. Anything that will provide you an emergency full protection against crazy bugs invasion!

"Zzziinggg…" NO! You thought you were finished. That nasty little thing. You were wrong. "Thwabs! Thwabs!" You didn't fascinate the bugs; it was the lamp and the ceiling. Yet you were still peering from behind your helpless blanket. Swearing. Complaining. All the dirtiest words you could ever think of. And you lost, my man. Against the green bugs invasion.


Now you thought that you were the warm center of the universe, like Ed Norton in The Fight Club who was able to seize his serene moments at nights. "Zzziiinggg… chink! Zzziiinggg…" This one was damn close to your ears. "Chink!" YIKES! The green bugs just made an alliance with a lean, mean, little dragonfly-look-alike bugs! The latter seemed to be lethal, as you could spot the (sengat) at the end of its body. It was floating gracefully across your room. As if it was a strayed biplane. First it was flying in circle around the lamp, sizing up the green bugs sitting on the edge of the lamp. Wrong again. The dragonfly bugs started to expand its coverage. It drew itself closer and closer against you.

For a second or so, you just stared dumbfounded at those two bugs, which have just ruined your (again) serene little moment. Those two little creatures were roaming freely, showing off their knack for flying right in front of your very eyes. An F-16 wouldn't fly that gracefully, perhaps.

Then you begun to realize and asked questions to yourself, you started to wonder what those two crazy bugs were up to. A minute later or so, you realized that conquer of paradise has just begun.

More "zziingg" sounds enveloped you. More "'thwabs" sounds of the silly green bugs humping against the ceiling. More "chink" sounds of the other bugs. They might be small and harmless, but very intimidating. A wider flight coverage. A bolder maneuvers. A more threatening looks. No bugsticide anywhere within your reach. In that three by four meters by three meters room, you mind has finally made a decision. Bugs bites might not be dangerous or anywhere near lethal. But the trauma might last longer than you thought. And then, how you hate bugs.

The next maneuvers they made, you reached a decision.

To leave the room. That's it!

Precisely at 04:00 AM in the morning, those two little bugs have beaten you. It was the night of the green bugs invasion.


You were hanging out there to dry. All alone. In the pitch dark of the night. You started to review your sleeping disturbances in the past six months. You had to realize that you had a very nice and challenging job. With a pool of friends. And a nice room to stay. Enough money to fulfill your desire of any gadgets you wanted. Whatizzit then? You don't have a female boss so bitchy you couldn't stand her. No. You enjoyed both public transportation and private ones. You are the balance point of the world of comforts. Chicks? Hey, you've got yourself a series of occasional girlfriend to hang out with. All is well educated, well behaved, damn smart, and easy to get along with and most of them are in your wavelength. You could still hear those bugs initiating another attack in your room. Must be against the big huge white lamp. It was not the bugs, despite their invasion.

Must be the chick in pink, who swayed smoothly and beautifully in her refined, latest fashion and perfume. The pink lady, who happened to threw her deadly smile at those two guards in front of your office. The day after the green bugs invasion, you found yourself confronting the center of your universe. The pink lady. At any rate, she was probably the most gorgeous creature on earth. You settled your sleeping disturbances. Like Ed Norton said in The Fight Club. "Babies don't sleep this well." Do they? Do you? What about the mobile number you were clutching in your sleep?

Jakarta, September 26, 2000.



"I live at the 32nd floor of this apartment in downtown Jakarta. At night, those brown-hard shell-bugs would invade my room and start to hit anything in front of them." *shrugs*

-- confession of an expatriate coping with Jakarta's apartment.

being forty

the office threw me a small and simple belated party.
i am forty today
a sacred age for a guy
so said everybody

hey, i'm forty. i have a great life. a wonderful family. a bright career.
a nice house with a pool. a driver ready to serve.
a family station wagon. several maids who takes care of the house
so that household works won't drive my lady out of her mind.
i have a beautiful, smart and supporting wife.
a couple of offsprings who have been rewarding me with straight a grades every year.
i have a great circle of friends. i have rejuvenating hobbies every weekend.
a game that the whole family enjoys.
i know i've been blessed. i'm actually at the top of the world.

as a master in my own working space, i have wonderful staff at work as well.
probably not all of them, but at least 80% of them.
i can joke easily with them despite my being a stranger in a foreign land.
well, you know, even if you share a culture by birth, somehow -- to some extent
it's still hard to have a firm footing on both cultures.

you started to build up my psychological background now?
don't. because this is no "american beauty" genre little story.
it's just something that happened on a business trip
after i turned forty a couple of weeks ago.

in my line of work, you get to go to different places.
no, i don't work in the army.
no, i don't count other people's money.
no, i don't do some software/hardware installation.
no, i don't do some infrastructure installation.
no, i don't sell/import/export any goods.
and god, i'm not peter arnett nor larry king.
and i don't have any flying license.
steward? geez.. i don't serve people. i'm the boss, remember?
i'm not even a model. and for crying out loud, i'm not a tour guide! give me a break.
i work in something else.

one day, i ended up on a trip somewhere with one of my staff.
i never really talked to him -- yes, it's a man.
so, again, i guarantee you that this story won't end up like "random hearts" or something.
he's one of the operational team members. i mostly talk to my managers.
but this trip was different. i just feel a bit weird, that's all. especially since a couple of weeks ago.

exactly, a couple of weeks ago when i just found out
-- after a year that he's been around --
that our birth dates were only different by two days.
mine came before his. same year. that means we are both forty.
and i started to dig his cv. no signs of year and date of birth. well, of course!
impressive cv though. well, that's why i decided to hire him.
he's been around the archipelago more than i have.
he's been to those exotic places doing different jobs and professions.
he's been a foreign language teacher. he's been a salesman. he's been an auditor.
he's been a warehouse manager.
he's been a researcher. he's been a volunteer in a non profit organization.
he's been in an earthquake, a landslide, a flood, a road accident.
he's been both in vertical and horizontal conflict hot spots.
he's been working with people of all corners of the world: african origins, indians, americans, french and koreans!
he's been in an area so remote that there were neither power nor telephone networks.
he's been in different life-threatening situations
where the word "evacuation" were both passive and active voices.
he's been working with machetes, pencils and computers.
he's been up in the boonies and down at the shores.
the question is, what is he doing now being an operational staff in my office
with such extensive experience and background.
why did i hire him? he should be overqualified for his position!

where have i been? that's what i'm thinking now, sitting beside him on an airplane
heading for some other city for this so-called planning meeting or whatever.
i had to go because my men were scattered pretty much everywhere else.

after a one full-day meeting, i need to go out to get something for my lady.
so, i called him up and we decided to go out together.

(#) "don't you want to get something for your wife?" i know he's married as well.

(=) "no, we've been saving since she decided to care for our child when she was still expecting it."

(#) "why, you forbid her to work like most men i know over here?" probably i was too much.

(=) "ha ha ha.." he laughed heartily. "she's living off her own savings.
which is a lot more than mine. so, it's her decision."

(#) "is that really so?" i was a bit surprised. sure the office is in the country's metropole, but he seemed to be different.

(=) "what is it that you want to get for your wife?" he diverted the topic.

wooden jewelleries i told him.
might sound stupid, again, but my wife and i just haven't been able
to get a complete set since our past holidays in this island of gods
(yes, the meeting takes place in a resort island -- don't ask me why)
have always been for our kids to enjoy.

(=) "do you have a picture of her? a set of pictures." he added. i was a bit confused.

(#) "i have some in the digital camera. i can get it now." but he refused that and asked for bigger pictures.

(=) "i know someone who will make your wife loves you even more." he said.
so, being a loving husband i decided to bring my laptop rucksack with me.

we took a cab to some city corners i've never been.
we've been going around for half an hour or so.
it can't be this far. but this guy looked cooler than cucumber.
he kept giving the driver directions.
i guess the taxi driver must have had enough for all those left and right turns.
in a small, dark alley we got off.
i followed him like a dog. we stopped in a simple wooden house. with minimum light.
the owner of the house seemed to be so happy to see this staff of mine.
they exchanged words in high speed local language i can't understand.
i can if they would go slowly, though. *doh*
we were seated on the floor, on simple woven bamboo mats.
an old man appeared and sat with us. my staff gestured me to take my laptop out.

(#) "the pictures." so i turned it on, chose the folder and opened several pictures.
the old man pulled his head closer to the screen,
smiled at me and say "beautiful" in local language.

(=) "set it as a slide presentation, so the guy can have a good personal observation."
my staff asked me.
WHAT IS THIS???

(=) "what do you need? earrings, bracelets?" my staff asked me.

(#) "i don't know. a set of whatever he has." i looked totally doped.
"hey, he's not going to put anything into the jewelleries, is he?
you know, like some sort of mantra or something." i whispered at him. my staff laughed.

(=) "he's going to make you a set of whatever you want. everything is arranged."
he chatted a while with the old man and off we went.
in front of the alley, a taxi was waiting for us. a different one. i don't know how the taxi got there.

we stopped in a pub somewhere. it's the only place that i used to go.
i like the local wine and the wines there was okay. this guy doesn't drink wine, he preferred guinness beer.

(#) "it's on me." i said after he finished a bottle quickly. so, he asked for another round.
"you don't talk much, do you?" i told him.

(=) "it depends." i smiled. a strange person..

(#) "how did you know that old man back there?"

(=) "i did a favor to a friend. i was doing some background research on jewellery artists
and stumbled on that guy while i was touring this island."

(#) "oh, that was when you did some research work several years ago. i read that in your cv." he nodded.

after several rounds of beers he swayed to the classic rock tunes the band was playing.
not really my kind of music although we were from the same generation.

(#) "i'm kinda confused with you." i admitted -- after a third quarter of bottle.

(=) "did i do something wrong?" he asked.

(#) "no. i mean, i read your cv. you've been everywhere. really. and.."

(=) "wondering why i'm still in the current position?" he put the matter on the table.
i raised my eyebrows.

(#) "you could be in better position with everything you have. i mean, i just realized that we are peers."
he just grinned while applausing the band.

(=) "well, i only do things i like."

(#) "but doesn't that seem to.." i paused. "sorry, i might have stepped on your toes.." somehow i was reluctant.

(=) "wasting my time?" he gave me a wide grin. "i was looking for myself, actually.."
he hanged the sentence and took another gulp of beer.

(=) "i don't know how does it work at your end. but i had to survive on my own back then."

(#) "you mean, there was no one else but you?"

(=) "my oldman let us live on our own. stuff like that."
there was so single hint of regrets in his voice. "i've done some construction job when i was 18."

(#) "how's your kid? is it a boy or a girl?"

(=) "a sweet little girl. you know what the locals believe about a girl as a first born?"

(#)"is there such thing?"

(=) "yeah. they believe that if a couple got a girl as their first born,
the father must have had some interesting past." he laughed.
i just smirked. i'm not a superstitious person.

(#) "how old is she?"

(=) "she started to walk. actually she took the first step right on my birthday. which was incredible."

(#) "yeah, i know that feeling."

(=) "what about yours? still rewarding you with straight As?"

(#) "yeah. kids these days. they are a lot smarter than i was at their age."
and i started to tell him all these great things my kids did.
with my current position and financial capability, i can give the best education they could get.
my kids went to this prestigious and progressive international school.

(=) "that's why my wife decided to stop working professionally."

(#) "but doesn't that mean less income for both of you?" i understand the current national economy condition.
it must be a bit tough for him.

(=) "it's not about income. it's about transferring your knowledge to your child,
while learning from the child at the same time."

(#) "wouldn't that be simpler if you can have more money
and put her into the best school she could get later on?" i argued.

(=) "i beg to differ. we realized our limits and we knew what we may give her.
so, we decided to be there on every moments of growth with her." he responded.

(#) "of course education begins at home. but.."

(=) "what is a standard? what is normal education?" he fired back. i was quiet for a second.
then he continued talking, "i wasn't brought up in a complete family, but my wife did.
i never had the presence of parents around. probably i felt guilty and wanted to be there for my daughter.
call it whatever you want, but the simple logic to this would be i want to experience being a full father;
while my wife and i decided to be a full parents for her."

(#) "you know it's not easy on the money."

(=) "i only need a handful of money to survive."

(#) "you sound like a buddhist." i grinned back at him. he grinned as well.

(=) "much to my admiration to buddha values,
i don't think i have to say to you that i'm an agnostic.." we both laughed.
well, i don't know what is my religion anyways.
"but i believe in both good and bad values, though. the most important thing
that i believe is to learn and unlearn at the same time."

(#) "is that how you bring up your daughter?"

(=)"well, she's still a year old. but as a father, i can give the same comments you gave to your kids."

(#) "okay, then." i rest my case. i wouldn't say that he was being defensive. i don't know.
i had a bottle of wine and he had probably several pints of guinness beer.

(=) "and don't give me this logic of wanting less responsibilities for men of my age. our age."

(#) "someone might look at it that way." i responded.

(=) "i'd rather say that i want to give the best the way i could give it. within my ability. on my own."

(#) "is that the explanation for never hanging out after work with us?"
once a week, i asked my staff to hang out,
either play pool or just having a couple of glass of beers or coffee or tea.
or i'd invite them to my place on several special occasions.

(=) "kinda. call me weird. but i'm just trying to make a balance in life.
after eight hours of work, i need to see my family.
i need to be there for my daughter." it's kinda true, though.

(#) "is that also why you refuse the mobile phone
the office gave you in case of emergency?"

we've been having trouble in communicating with this guy because
he doesn't have any phone number both modular and cellular.
i heard rumors at the office that the whole office have been persuading him
to buy the cheapest mobile phone
and bought a prepaid card so that he can be contacted in case of emergency.
the finance department had even offered
to buy him a used mobile phone but he refused.

(=) "i'm a simple man. probably more on the conservative side.."

(#) "but still.. such communication gadget might come in handy in case of emergency. what if.."

(=) "yea.. yea.. i know where you are driving me." he cut me in.

(#) "don't you feel at least worried?"

(=) "not really."

(#) "i heard that you still living in a rented house.
don't you think it costs more than owning a house of your own?"

i know one of my staff and his wife have been working their butt
to buy a house on a monthly installment credit scheme.

(=) "to some extent, yes. but i'm still trying to figure out the best way.
i don't have capital to buy a house."

(#) "so, what if your needs expanded or after a long and good thinking
you decided that your daughter should get better goods and services in the future?"

(=) "actually i plan to move to a smaller city with less living costs,
find a land, earn standard salary, leave home for work at eight
and be home at four, ride a bike to work, do some gardening, walk with the family in the nature and stuff."

(#) "geez, man.. get real."

(=) "really. i mean, one day i'll get there." i just stared at him.

(#) "hey boss, you know what, it's almost one in the morning and tomorrow we got a morning meeting."

we got up and walked back to the hotel, which is not far from the pub.
i sighed. this guy doesn't seem to worry about how is he doing right now.
but he seemed to be worried about not being able to wake up early this morning
due to a meeting that we have to attend.
is it just him or is it me who's getting so damn worried about achievements,
careers, finance and family at the age of forty?

east of the sun, west of the moon*

versi indonesia (indonesian version)



Kataku, "Kamu sudah melihat bulan malam ini?"

Katanya, "Aku tidak bisa melihat bulan dari sini. Kamu?"

Kataku, "Aku ada di timur matahari."

Katanya, "Aku ada di barat bulan."

Kataku, "Aku suka."

Katanya, "Kamu suka ada di sebelah timur matahari?"

Kataku, "Hanya kalau kamu ada di barat bulan."

Katanya, "LOL"**

Sebelum kusadari, aku tidak menyesal telah memasang peranti lunak untuk berkirim pesan secara instan. Sebelum kusadari, aku menyukai waktu macet pulang kantor yang memberiku beberapa jam lebih. Sebelum kusadari, aku naksir dia. Setelah bertukar isi hati selama enam bulan. Dia lucu, cerdas, perhatian dan segar. Agaknya dia memang dirancang untuk selalu muncul dengan bahasan yang aneh, kalimat sapaan yang pintar dan cara pandang yang menggelegar.

Aku masih di kantor hari itu. Baru keluar dari ruangan perang dan debat panas soal potong-memotong frame di footage berita yang akan tayang sore ini. Ya, sekitar dua jam lagi. Juru kamera ternyata merekam beberapa raw footage yang menarik. Tapi jurnalisnya mau menggunakan raw footage itu, sementara aku sebagai kepala departemen berita di stasiun TV swasta ini, punya pikiran berbeda. Aku mestinya jadi berani, menantang, analitis, sekaligus bijak. Tapi menurutku materi berita itu bisa menampar balik kami secara politis. Aku tidak butuh kekacauan macam begitu selagi rating acaraku bagus.

Kataku, "Halo, apa kabar?"

Katanya, "Aku bisa melihat gedungmu."

Kataku, "Aku tidak punya gedung, Sayang."

Katanya, "18 lantai, kan? Dengan neon sign besar perusahaan kamu."

Kataku, "Kamu bisa melihatnya dari tempatmu sekarang?"

Katanya, "Aku punya penglihatan 20-20. Aku tidak buta."

Kataku, "Adakah aku di timur matahari?"

Katanya, "Tidak, kamu di barat matahari."


Jantungku bergerumuh. Sebetulnya berdetak jauh lebih cepat. Dengan keriangan luar biasa.


Kataku, "Ada bistro di lantai satu gedung tempat kamu berada. Pai apelnya enak."

Katanya, "Menggoda sekali."

Kataku, "Lebih enak kalau dibagi dengan seseorang.."

Katanya, "..Selagi menatap sebelah barat bulan."

Kataku, "Ke mana aku harus mengantar?"


Dia memberiku nomor yang salah. Aku harus menelepon empat penyedia jasa telepon seluler untuk menghubunginya.


"Aku nggak yakin.." Katanya datar.

"Apa? Ayolah, kita sudah kenal selama hampir satu tahun. Aku minta bertemu di tempat umum."

"Tempat umum yang letaknya di sebelah gedung kantormu."

"Kamu tadi bilang tidak mau pindah tempat karena macet."

"Kamu pakai dasi?"

"Cepat ke sini dan kalau kamu tidak suka tampangku.." Aku ambil napas sebentar. "..yah lupakan aku."

"Sungguh? Rasanya kamu yang tidak berani melupakan aku.." Betapa menggoda!

Aku mengenali suara itu. Sedikit berat, tapi perempuan sekali. Aku memutar punggung.
Sekarang aku betul-betul naksir. Sebuah gambar bongkar pasang yang lengkap tergelar di hadapanku.

"Hai.. apa kabar?" Dia tersenyum. Dan aku jadi keju mozzarella di atas piza panas.

"Aku.. aku baik." Aku mencoba menyembunyikan semua perasaan yang campur aduk. Aku melihat kedua matanya. Raut wajahnya. Potongan terakhir gambar bongkar pasang.

"Kamu tidak baik-baik saja. Mukamu memerah.." Katanya manja.


Dibagilah tawa hangat. Bulan ada di barat.


Dunia di genggamanku kembali. Lalu-lintas e-mail yang muatannya melebihi e-mail rutin kantoran yang isinya kurang dari 10 kilobit, menjadi kenangan semanis dan sepolos kembang melati dan vanila. Aku benar-benar menghargai jempolku yang lincah menindas keypad pesawat 6250 milikku. Jantungku berdebar lebih kencang setiap kali kudengar suara bip halus penanda masuknya sebuah SMS dan sebuah lagi. Aku memilih memotong anggaran kumpul-kumpul dengan rekan sekantor setiap Jum'at sore dan menghabiskannya untuk telepon interlokal. Dia mengumpulkan dan membawa kembali remah-remah roti yang kutinggalkan sepanjang alur hidupku.

"Kalau ada penerbangan tengah malam, kita bisa melihat ombak bertemu secara horizontal di kaki-kaki kita."

"Kalau aku bisa menyisakan teguk terakhir kopi Irlandia hangat ini untuk kamu, aku ingin." (kalau saja kamu tahu bagaimana caranya)


Aku harusnya menghadiri acara peluncuran buku baru teman baikku. Tapi tampaknya tak ada yang perduli ketika aku melambaikan tangan pada sebuah taksi di luar pusat budaya.

Seribu bintang bersinar di matanya. Senyum yang begitu bercahaya menerangi patung raksasa yang berdiri sombong di atas bukit. Ada getaran halus di pahaku.

"Ya, pasti. Aku tidak akan lupa membelikan layangan Bali yang besar buat kamu." Ini suara beratku.

"Ya, Sayang, aku akan pulang sejam lagi." Ini suara beratnya, tapi perempuan sekali.


========================================

* terinspirasi oleh lagu Diana Krall, East of the Sun (and West of the Moon) dalam albumnya "Her Best"
** laughing out loud

jakarta, 06/11/02

east of the sun, west of the moon*

english version



blues: did you check the moon tonight?
nlf: I can't see the moon from here. can you?
blues: I'm east of the sun
nlf: I'm west of the moon
blues: I like it
nlf: you like to be the east of the sun?
blues: only if you are the west of the moon
nlf: LOL**

Before I realized it, I hadn't regretted my installing the instant messaging software.
Before I realized it, I had cherished the traffic-congested after hour for giving me a couple of hours extension.
Before I realized it, I had fallen for her. After six months of intensive mental exchanges. She was witty, smart, caring and fresh. Somehow she was built to always come up with uncommon topics of the day, smart pick up lines and spanking new way of looking at things.

I was still at the office that day. Fresh from the war room and hot debate whether to cut or not to cut some frames in the news footage to be aired later this evening. Well, actually in another two hours. The cameraman turned out to have recorded some interesting raw footages. The reporter would like to use it, but I as the head of a news department in this private TV station, thought differently. I am supposed to be bold, intriguing, analytical and wise at the same time. But I just think that the material might have some political backlash at us. I don't need crap like that while we have a good rating now.

blues: hey nee, how are ya?
nlf: I can see your building.
blues: I don't have a building, dear.
nlf: 18 floors, rite? with that big neon sign of your company.
blues: can you see that all the way from where you are?
nlf: I have a 20-20 vision. I'm not blind.
blues: am I east of the sun?
nlf: no, you are west of the sun

My heart was pounding. It was racing actually. With pure excitement.

blues: there is a bistro down your building, they have juicy apple pie.
nlf: scrumptious.
blues: it will be juicier if you share it with someone..
nlf: while gazing the west of the moon
blues: where should I deliver the pie?

She gave me the wrong number. I had to try all four cellular phone providers to contact her.

"I'm not sure.." She said flatly.
"What? Come on, we've known each other for almost a year. I'm asking you to meet me in a public place."
"A public place, which is across your building."
"Well, you told me you don't want to go somewhere else because of the traffic jam."
"Do you wear a tie?"
"Just get down here and if you don't like the way I look.." I exhaled for a second. ".. then ditch me."
"Really? I don't think you would dare to ditch me.." How seductive!

I recognize that voice. A bit heavy, but very womanly. I turned my back.
Now I believe that I have really fallen for her. A completed puzzle is set in front of me.

"Hi.. how are you?" She smiled. And I become a mozarella cheese on top of a hot pizza.
"I'm.. I'm good.." I tried to hide all that mixed feelings. I looked at her eyes. Her face. The final piece of 1000 pieces of puzzle.
"You're not good. You're blushing." She said coyly.

Heartwarming laughs were shared. The moon is on our west.

The world is in my hands again. The e-mail traffic, which exceeds the regular, business-like, less-than-10 kilobytes, became sweet and innocent remembrance of jasmine and vanilla. I really appreciate my nimble thumb thumping the keypad of my 6250. My heart does beat faster as I heard the soft beep of an incoming message and more. I'd rather cut my budget for TGIF after hour gathering with office buddies and spend it more on long distance calls. She collected and brought me the breadcrumbs I had left along my path of life.

"If there is a midnight flight, we would have watched waves crashed horizontally on our feet."
"If I could spare my last gulp of this warm Irish coffee with you, I would." *if you know what I mean by how!*

I was supposed to attend a book launching of a dear friend. But no one seemed to have mind and bothered my hailing a cab outside the cultural center.

A thousand stars gleam over her eyes. A smile so radiant illuminates the arrogant humongous statue looming on top of the hill. A smooth vibration crept through my thigh.

"Yes, sure. I won't forget to buy you a big Balinese kite." This is my heavy, commanding voice.
"Yes, honey, I'll be home in an hour." This one is her heavy, but womanly voice.


*inspired by diana krall's song, "east of the sun (and west of the moon) in her album "her best"
** laughing out loud

jakarta, 06/11/02