On Return to My Country

I was back to my country at last. Although I cried at Narita, I never thought of my leaving-Japan so much before I arrived at my country for couple of days. Probably before my departure day, I was denying that my dreamy life has an ending, and then it finally reached to its end.

I was in Jakarta for several days before going to my hometown where my parents live and the majority memory of my childhood comes from. It was absurd that I found Jakarta much more annoying than I remember a year before when I came back for vacation. But that is why I don’t really believe that it was factual, I suspect that it was from my biased view, which was more influenced by my own state of mental and emotion. I did not catch any cold (which is a periodic and usual physical challenge for me) nor got thieved (which is not an extraordinary incident in a wild city like Jakarta). Could it be a sign of an improvement, I don’t know, but what I know was that I felt Jakarta was frightening (the feeling which I, compared to most people I know, never felt that bothering before).

When I visited my hometown for several weeks, I found some peace. I made myself busy taking care of my parent, who were fine like they always are, and our old house, which was helpless. I never have been bothered staying in that house except because of that house itself. You must think I am a spoiled kid, but actually I am not, it is my parent who has an unlimited patience, so for them a feeling such as disappointment of that house is still unthinkable. Later on, I will write about my parent, extraordinary people whom I love the most in this world.

When I’m back to Jakarta (for the second time I started to chill again when I took the bus from the airport), I got little amused by a small reunion, with my most respected Prof. Asanuma, in a vintage restaurant, named Kembang Goela (meaning: candy, gpicked by Fau from the reference of famous Jalan Sutra of Bondan Winarno). Once again, I got reunited with the Hitotsubashi people in Jakarta.

When suddenly my sister said she was going to Bali, I couldn’t think for other reaction except, I want to go with her. My eldest sister, despite of her snappishness, always fond of companies, let alone from a sweet little sister like me (please don’t throw up). So off we go to Bali (that was before the bombing, and I went to eat in one of the restaurant which was exploded later on). There were breath-taking things happened along the ways and during the days, probably I should tell them in another enty.

Back from Bali, I still feel that anxiety when I saw the streets of Jakarta. But I was sure that I will lose it again in time. Only time heals all wounds and erases memories. Slowly then I would be able to reconfigure my life.