dearvahd

morning glory

2012-01-18T07:08:00.006+07:00

once you see the deeper meaning
in doing what you love,
an occupation ceases to be an occupation,
but a spiritual experience.

that is what i see
in musical performances,
by artists like yes
and many others,
which inspire me
in awe and spiritual wonder,
in guessing whether -
what they feel -
while writing and performing their songs,
equals the excitement of ipomoea purpurea,
the morning glory flowers,
when touched by the morning sunlight.

i can only hope
to do the same
with my chosen
profession.

never bend with the rainfall

2012-01-09T06:13:00.013+07:00

one of the most curious things that stumbled upon me recently during my last visit to new york was the sight of padlocks on brooklyn bridge: a bridge over troubled water.

every padlock must have a peculiar story. a unique tale of hearts that attempt to resist the stains of age. but who can really tell what it narrates. is it a riddle, or is it a clue? is it a statement or is it a puzzle? a secret or an announcement? you can guess their meanings.

securely locked to the various parts of the steel construction by the happy hands of lovers - whose hearts must have been filled with joy and amusement. perhaps they were trying to pledge that their blooming flowers of affection will never bend with the rainfall or snowflakes, and that throughout their journey in life their footsteps will always rhyme.

like promises made in the moments of contemplation, like the ancient motion of the seas, like every sparrow in the sky, like every leaf that trembles with the winter breeze, there is no inclination to look back in any mistake.

walk yourself across this historic landmark if you happen to visit the city of the big apple, the home of the empire state, the cradle of hopeful dreams and the land of twisting fates. find these symbols in a concrete jungle where dreams are made.

scenes from my last day in 2011. a walk from from manhattan to brooklyn. gazing at the skylines and the east river. pondering at the tunes and the lyrics of yesterday. i walked off and look for america.

storyteller of yesteryear

2012-01-04T11:41:00.030+07:00

don't matter if the road is long,

don't matter if it's steep;

don't matter if the moon is gone,

don't matter if the darkness is complete;

don't matter if the page is gone,
it's written that we'll meet.

i loved you when you opened

like a lily to the heat;

and i'll love you when it closes,

a thousand kisses deep...

(l.c.)

...it was a long journey, deep into a winter, all the way across the field of snow. there was a village in lancester, pennsylvania, known as the home of the amish farmers and craftsmen.

...cherry blossoms. it was among the first signs of spring in washington dc.

...else than the meetings at the world bank and the imf.

...a pillow of winds. white spring flowers. blue ridge mountain. west virgina.

...and as the month of may arrived, buffalo crossed the road on our journey to yellowstone. spring time in wyoming.

...all the way. up there, a journey to the lone mountain trail, gallatin county - montana.

...in search for grizzly bears, moose, wolves.

...all under the big sky of montana.

...and then one day, hurray! met the travelling tom in a perfect day in alexandria summer. fresh air at last. "...and they sat together in the park, as the evening sky got dark. she looked at him, and he felt tingles to his bone. oh well, it was a simple twist of fate.." (dylan)

"..there were books, on a hill, but i never knew their meanings. no i never knew them at all..."

"...till there was you."

...history in the making. july nine at the national monument of washington dc. a day of miracles.

...another restless farewell (dylan's):

" oh all the money that in my whole life i did spend; be it mine right or wrongfully, i let it slip gladly past the hands of my friends, to tie up the time most forcefully. but the bottles are done, we've killed each one, and the table's full and overflowed. and the corner sign says it's closing time; so i'll bid farewell and be down the road.

oh ev'ry girl that ever i've touched, i did not do it harmfully; and ev'ry girl that ever i've hurt, i did not do it knowin'ly. but to remain as friends, and make amends, you need to have the time and stay behind. and since my feet are now fast, and point away from the past...i'll bid farewell, and be down the line...

oh ev'ry foe that ever i faced; the cause was there before we came. and ev'ry cause that ever i fought, i fought it full without regret or shame; but the dark does die, and the curtain is drawn and somebody's eyes must meet the dayn. and if i see the day, i'd only have to stay; so i bid farewell and in the night and be gone...

oh a false clock tries to tick out my time. to disgrace, distract, and bother me. and the dirt of gossip blows into my face, and the dust of rumors covers me. but if the arrow is straight, and the point is slick, it can pierce the dust no matter how thick. so i'll make my stand, and remain as i am and bid farewell, and not give a damn! "

....time to explore! spider nest along the coasts of florida.

...islamodara, florida in summer.

...fly me to the moon, and let me play among the stars. in our fasting days of ramadan in florida, redo and i knew it was just the right way to go to the space. sky was not the limit. moon was up there.

...old friends, new friends, ied prayer. indiatlantic, florida.

...there, and back again? magical summer trip.

...a little touch of magic and childhood dream in orlando, florida.

...bazaar, bazaar! in search for a circus of heaven. orlando.

...for rent. not forever.

...coast to coast. the gate was golden in september.

...as if you didn't know it. it was always for travel's sake did i travel. came so far for friends.

...far above needle-like coconut trees in vanuatu. september.

...postcards from west across the ocean seas: and vanuatu. and overseas.

...heat in the street. on the way to "open air museum" of world war ii remains: pacific war. guadalcanal, solomon islands.

...going back. suva to nadi, fiji.

...mount vernon backyard. george washington. autumn and you.

...is there another earth, as green as any carpet, that dares to climb to mountainside, until it's touched by snow? no, it's all here. maryland in autumn.

...when the music is over, please turn off the light. at the carnadi's home studio in potomac, maryland in autumn.

...tilden upon tyne; tilden green. all that once green must now turn to yellow.

...tilden home.

...another call: return to the pacific oceans.

...and the blue birds fly. and the dreams that you dare to dream really do come true. and somewhere over the rainbow, november in honolulu.

...before i go. hear the train coming. see the neon lamp flashing. where do we go from here?

...a neighbourhood in new orleans. reminded me of cirebon, shrimp-town rock in java island.

...lake michigan at the horison of chicago.

...hello darkness my old friend, i've come to talk with you again. chicago in november wintry night. 'neath the halo of a street lamp...

"a man conceived a moment's answer to the dream..."

the hissing of summer lawns

2011-06-29T09:03:00.006+07:00

big adventure amid the grass... fresh air at last...

as such

2011-06-06T06:45:00.016+07:00

oh what a perfect day,

drinking iced tea in the park, and then later when it gets dark, we go home.

such a perfect day,

seeing animals in the zoo, and then later a riverside walk too, and then home.

oh it's such a perfect day,

problems are left alone, weekenders on our own, it's such fun.

it's a perfect day,

you made me forget myself, i thought i was someone else, someone good.

oh it's such a perfect day,

i'm glad i spent it with you. such a perfect day, you just keep me hanging on.

you're going to reap just what you sow...

bosphorus

2011-05-02T23:41:00.003+07:00

six hours by the bosphorus, feeling an extreme comfort of a steaming cup of mehmet efendi, which tasted quite like kapal api with one sugar. the silhouette of the minarets, the unfinished report, the bridge crossers, commuting between anatolia and thrace, all fit to the tune of ommadawn's chorus. oh well, the songs of the distant earth remain the same after all these nine years.

new year

2011-01-02T09:05:00.004+07:00

entering 2011 with renewed determinations. tic toc of the clock keeps ticking. distant stars keep shining. new year is coming. another milestone. marking the moment we blacken the pages in the books of our lives. with lessons.

last night i walked the historic distric of capitol hill on the new year's eve. national mall. passing by the neighbourhood where the solemnness of january icy night resides. my thoughts were mainly of a face and a name. and at times, of reflection of lamplights once seen from across the bridge in inverness scotland. a strange fragmented combination of thoughts. in two hours of stroll at night, dc offered me space and silence. no firework. no trumpet. no loud music. no jubilation. no camera flash. no giggles. no traffic. just stars, ducks, frozen pond, and heartbeats of the moon.

a small groups of people sitting on the staircase of lincoln memorial hall. holding in their hands a drink or two, which the security guards later took from them due to the respect and courtesy to the heroes in memoriam.

i saw a merry couple wedded in the first minutes of the new year's eve. only a small number of guests were present. a priest. and an accoustic guitar. what a timing for a wedding. when the night was dark and air piercingly cold. midnight and twinkling red lights on the top of washington monument obelisk were their witnesses.

jakarta celebrated the new year's eve twelve hours ahead of me. twelve hours that separated us in two different numbers of years.

bismillah, 2011 is coming in. and with steadfastness it brings within, i will keep on walking.

dearest snow

2010-12-27T02:22:00.004+07:00

snowflakes greet me from outside the window, 'hi vahd, i see your long weekend has been a good one. i'm sorry it's almost over. i know how you feel about this. tomorrow you must resume your duty, fill your cup until it's full enough - one day.'

left, right, up and down. look! - how lively the snowflakes fly. they seem weightless. the gravity tries to pull them down to the ground, but winds command them to other directions.

if one snow touched my window; it melted almost immediately. and, like tears on a face of a sad person, it leaves a trace on the glass - for a while. until the wind wipes away the trace, sooner rather than later.

and the trees in the garden, except the pines, are leafless now. they will remain like that for a couple of weeks. when spring is here.

e c h o e s . . . .

2010-11-19T09:47:00.005+07:00

cloudless everyday you fall

upon my waking eyes
inviting and inciting me to rise

and through the window in the wall

come streaming in on sunlight wings
a million bright ambassadors of morning

and no-one sings me lullabies
and no-one makes me close my eyes
and so I throw the windows wide

and call to you across the sky...

- red leaves of autumn, north bethesda, october 2010 (v)

autumn in new york

2010-09-05T17:38:00.018+07:00

it's about the time for me to write again. september is still here. and so is america.

september. a month less-celebrated, but also, to borrow tom jones' words, a time of the year when life is slow and mellow. when grass is green, and grain is yellow.

the month when love is an ember about to billow. even in the deep frost of december, when you know the snow will follow, it's nice to remember the fire of september.

for me, september means something more. a rainbow caught me then. in the middle of new york jungle. with em. and everything is by the way.

meulaboh

2010-06-30T15:27:00.002+07:00

tomorrow, dear friends, i will go to meulaboh. a seaside town located in aceh province. in december 2004, meulaboh was devastated by the visit of mr. tsunami. things were in ruin then. now, five years later, i go there for the first time in my life. my coming is to see the inauguration of a hospital donated by the people of singapore our neighbour. the itinerary is set. and the programme is made.

aceh, indian ocean, here i come... ya huala huala ehaaaa....!

swans of astimpas

2010-06-28T18:17:00.002+07:00

du du du... du du du... see now there are swans in my office's cubical. simple origami paper creativity in various sizes. mostly white, sitting on top of our four pcs. manky made them. du du du... du du du... these swans of astimpas dont float on the english river. but that's absolutely okay.

m

2010-06-24T14:11:00.002+07:00

there's a time when a man needs to fight and a time when he needs to accept that his destiny's lost, the ship has sailed and that only a fool will continue. the truth is i've always been a fool.

(ed bloom, big fish)

go no more a-rovin'

2010-06-09T22:19:00.009+07:00

the round tables in this comfortable room are made of white marbles. here by the window i sit and cast my eyes to the street. thinking of leo, mark, victor, you, and the uncertainties ahead of us all. on days like these i yearn for miracles to reduce these enduring appetites. i sip five cups of tea a day.

i recognise these streets quite well, although the faces unfamiliar to me are many. hmm... never mind. i know new faces come everyday. only a portion of what we see is to stay in our mind's journal anyway.

leo told me from his tower of song that his friends are long gone and his hair is grey, he aches in the places where he used to play. and he bade me farewell, not knowing when he'll be back again, and so on....

and victor said there are doors in his life that he never want to open again. but he also admitted it's difficult to deny they are there; and perhaps only right to open the sometimes. for when making resolutions, we need to look back on past mistakes. to be sure they are not repeated, but also to make better the return encounter. i appreciate his kind words. reminding me "to give love to those you care for, and a smile to those you don't. to be all things to all men but just yourself to yourself. be humble and human, but proud of what you are." thank you for tonight, victor.

it's nearly a closing time. i know you're out there. if friends in time be severed, someday here we will meet again. when you have time for me, you will find me here, watching from the window. writing from this marble table in this street. i return to leave you never.

mama

2010-05-31T16:33:00.005+07:00

thank you mom.

everyday day
i pray to be
strong
and practice
to prepare
myself for facing
that very moment.

with eyes closed,
i always pray.

mom, i love you.

act two

2010-05-07T19:08:00.011+07:00

in the morning hours in kuala lumpur i sat staring at the white pages of my life. i know time can't be frozen. and neither can it be rolled back.

i thought that if one's life was like a play, then mine is about beginning its 'act two'.

the storyline narrates about you, your meaning to me, and my responds to you. the things you offered me generously struck me as beauty in many emanations. be it a being, an object, a situation or a landscape. these things have a powerful effect on me as they probably do on everyone else.

i found the things we do simply decorate life with detailed motifs. full of sounds and colours expressed to the world in a totally metaphorical language.

happy to see your pink and blue dresses shine like crazy diamonds. my sailor's hat and flannel shirts remain as my company.

---

p.s. i'd like to thank my friends for yesterday's impromptu surprise in cikini street. a simple birthday party in tan ek tjoan store meant a lot to me.

nikivina

2010-04-30T22:36:00.007+07:00

glad to see aviv and his wife vina shining as a new couple in surabaya last sunday. glad, because i was able to be there. simply because of that. it was a happy occasion with relatives and friends. tammama was also present. she came from flores island, her second home where she lives the life of a kelimutu dentist.

now, we are back to our duties. everyone has a work to do. and i'm not an exception. for me, it will be about resuming my movements from dot to dot. creating a web of ideas and travels, while inwardly hoping that there might be a pause, so that one could sketch a clearer picture of the landscape i am roaming around. i'm back working with wonderful team. and you know, it's rewarding to see that in your work some of your ideas are manifested into reality.

well, tomorrow i should be on my way to kuala lumpur. i've never been there before. it will be a new land to visit for me. and i'm looking forward to it, although i'm not packing yet.

how can i pack? i'm still here, writing this note... oi oi oi.

for oii

2010-04-16T18:17:00.005+07:00

God please give courage to her family in their loss.
a friend, remembered for her kindness, now left us.

we love you, oii.

"...your talent came flowing, through the stories they tell
and through the faces of those who loved you so well
your life gave them a treasure, a piece of themselves
something they carry, and still serves them well..."

(B. May)

turn in the corner

2010-04-15T20:23:00.004+07:00

in these days i'm having a hoarse voice; and i long for a remedy.

but wow. how glad i was when i heard his voice again, and learned that he sounds happy when i called him.

now i know that there is a plan. or two plans, perhaps. one his; another His.

it's been more than a year since i arrived in that train station, visiting him in his small town of lemgo. we tried to be punctual back then; but failed to make it. being on-time was too much a luxury to afford, wasn't it? haa...

having a quality time with him, for small talk, play ps three, or just watch a good movie, is always fun. my best wishes to him, and that may he make a ladder and climb on its every rung to reach his brightest star.

once a jolly swagman...

2010-03-19T21:31:00.005+07:00

along the harrington street, further down the australian avenue,to reach sydney harbour and the opera quay. still impressed by the street lamps at night. i walked on...

"who'll come a-waltzing matilda with me?"

change in changi

2010-03-07T22:09:00.003+07:00

'people in between', roaming around with their bags and tickets to fly again. all meet here, some for a short transit, others for a few hours wait, in this state-city of merlion.

i am certainly one of them.

if you have a few singapore dollars left in your pocket, why not try to taste the delicious food they serve up there, on the dock near the balcony from where you can get the view of landing airplanes, and close to a garden with a vast collection of cactus' green.

i dont. thus i prefer to stand here, in front of this bright yellow sign that says: "free internet"; and so i write this. well, anyhow, soon i must go again. and tomorrow, should things go well, these boots will take me to a new land.

time to jump!

from solo to semarang...

2010-03-06T15:16:00.006+07:00

friday last week, pandan wangi train took me from one small village to another all along the railway tracks between solo and semarang cities in central java. once the slow train stopped in a station where i spotted this vehicle, a manual two-seats train.

that was yet another wonderful solo-journey. a backpacker's story.

'til the morning sun shines again!

mosquito

2010-02-13T18:57:00.005+07:00

even boxes need a valentine, you said.
thus they hide from my sight,
to take time
just for themselves.

they go into hiding
inside those shelves where no light enters.
mosquitos do, though, quite unsurprisingly.

so i'll share my tales with them some other time.
when i too need a time just for myself,
like those boxes.

happy valentine!

eight pm something

2010-02-04T18:26:00.005+07:00

the desk remains there, and the hills of unfinished works dominates the landscape of the cubical. sub directorate one is where i perform my daily routines now, and it is offering me treats of old jobs in new faces: never ending news that penetrate the time. anyone who occupies the seat must feel the heat. be prepared for sudden exams without prior lectures. papers, talking points, speeches and reports are but a few assignments to be consumed along with 'teh tarik' and black coffee.

these days the emmisaries, the extraordinary and the plenipotentiary ones, are flocking home. down there sharing a table with the head of state. i too share a table in my cubical, with colleagues like donna-donna-donna (yes like the song goes).

eight pm something, and soon the light will be switched off.

starlight

2010-01-25T16:38:00.004+07:00

news from darfour
and from kinshasa
arrived at my desk
almost simultaneously:

two torch bearers,
carrying the glow from the stars,
walk through the nights
courageously.

food seller at night

2010-01-20T18:01:00.004+07:00

i captured this image in an occassion of visiting a museum in jakarta, one night in september 2009.

there are night foodstalls around this museum particularly during weekends. this one is a picture of a man selling fried bananas, taufus, and sweet-potato dumplings. behind him is a stall selling drinks. hot and cold are available.

i took other pictures of those sellers. i like the contrast bright produced by the oil-lamp they are using.

kids again

2010-01-15T19:04:00.004+07:00

will is in town. and so is husin. my semi-cousins. how glad i did feel when the three of us spent the night together in front of wide television screen, building towers in that playstation game, laughing and teasing at each other just like when we were thirteen. throwing pillows, spilling water - cold water, and other non-essential things for the sake of kidding.

shades of blue

2009-12-30T17:18:00.002+07:00

my blue pencil has new friends.
i've got fourty eight new non-toxic faber-castells in my disposal,
my colours, my rainbows to draw something colossal:
such as clouds that will never turn into raindrops or snowfalls,
images that often penetrate my midnight hiding walls,
faces, names, landscapes, places unknown near or far,
think i can sketch thousands of pictures, or maybe, none at all...

red fridays

2009-12-18T21:00:00.004+07:00

i think this is an ideal december should be like. haa..!

with red fridays decorating the calendar and filling our hearts with gratitude.

thankful that we have long weekends.

i can go home and fill my days reading my unfinished books.

(friends and relatives can have their wedding parties organised, hoho).

will is here too; he comes from lemgo.

this past weekend we had islamic new year holiday; next week, christmas; and the one after that, new year. oi oi oooi... so nice.

meanwhile i am back to the tales from the arabian nights nowadays. i am reading them again. one tale each night. and i am still impressed by every ending of each tale. such creativity and unthinkable twist are refreshing, you know. some of the tales seem new to me, which is great.

i hope you also have a good time this december. may you fall on the side of the luck, may you be surrounded by friends and family, and if none of these is yours, may the blessings find you in your solitude.

green is the colour

2009-12-09T19:20:00.004+07:00

heavy hung the canopy of blue
shade my eyes and i can see you
white is the light that shines through the dress that you wore.

she lay in the shadow of the wave
hazy were the visions of her playing
sunlight on her eyes but moonshine made her cry everytime.

green is the colour of her kind
quickness of the eye deceives the mind
envy is the bond between the hopefull and the damned.

forever

2009-11-19T15:48:00.002+07:00

may god bless and keep you always,
may your wishes all come true,
may you always do for others
and let others do for you.

may you build a ladder to the stars
and climb on every rung,
may you stay forever young.

may you grow up to be righteous
may you grow up to be true,
may you always know the truth
and see the lights surrounding you.

may you always be courageous,
stand upright and be strong,
may you stay forever young.

may your hands always be busy,
may your feet always be swift,
may you have a strong foundation
when the winds of changes shift.

may your heart always be joyful,
may your song always be sung,
may you stay forever young...

(one of my favourite lyrics by bob)

parahyangan valley

2009-11-12T17:24:00.003+07:00

this is a scenery from the train window, yesterday's trip from bandung to jakarta.

green paddy fields on the rolling hills of vertile java island.

emily dickinson's "a light exists on spring" accompanied me along the way.

between the meetings

2009-10-24T15:17:00.006+07:00

this morning i saw from my window a battle ship floating steadily on the sea. the thai gulf. i thought it was quite an unusual sight. because normally when i wake up just before sunrise, and sitting on my bed or on the chair - alone in the balcony, drinking cold milo, i might expect to find fishermen's boats on the waters or airplanes in the sky. but today it was a naval force. maybe it was a smaller frigate, a cruiser, floating slowly behind the lines of coconut trees that surround the swimming pools.

i realised then that perhaps the security measures have been intensified to protect this yearly gathering from unwanted surprises and uninvited guests. i know that good news may come and go as they please. we are but a transit place for them. we hardly know any new press release is to be published from the sky.

hmm... today i also sense a form of de déjà-vu.

i'm with the same good fellows with whom i worked a year ago in the city of lion. arranging similar occasions for different persons. high level, top level, both.

but i know now what i didn't then. that's why i feel somehow more prepared to expect things that are closer to reality now. i must make sure the time and the venue are available for the bilateral talks. and don't forget the material too.

from here, with warm thoughts of cha am, phetchaburi, and hua hin, prachuap khiri khan.

sovereign entrance

2009-10-23T10:38:00.006+07:00

"please refrain from walking on the carpet,"

says a signboard in front of the hotel entrance.

so the red carpet was covered with a white sheet;

a sacred pathway prepared only for the sovereign.

i saw the signboard when i arrived there,

a hotel in cha am, thailand,

where we are assigned as the troupe from jakarta.

the rest of the work is done somewhere else,

another hotel located not very far away from the 'sovereign'.

this morning, before i entered the site,

my eyes fell upon a line of children sitting on the roadsides,

wearing their school uniform,

waving the flags of our nations: the southeast asians, and our friends'.

that sight reminded me of my days as a student in elementary school,

when i did the same.

look, there are more security officials than the town folks.

the emissaries are here now.

but the top leader is still about to arrive.

his excellency and his newly appointed minister.

so we are preparing for their arrivals and their schedules.

somewhere in this secluded location,

where the envoys meet.

white mug

2009-10-04T20:09:00.011+07:00

this is but me and my simple rituals, which i perform tonight with a white mug, as i revisit this one-way street in jakarta city. cikini.

i came in; and they nodded.

they roasted the beans finer than they usually did,

and poured the strong result into a white mug.

seemed like they knew what i was coming for:

work until late,

right here, close to the window,

where you could see me,

and i could see you,

if you were a pedestrian.

i placed my devices on the round marble table,

and unrolled my earphones from its spiral box.

just by gazing into the white mug,

i could smell and absorb everything:

it contains essential elements of which inspirations are generously made.

i was also thinking of you,

who are perhaps not so keen to go out tonight.

because the forecast said it was about to rain.

it was probably only my guess:

but if i asked you,

directly or through the electronic device that you carried,

wouldn't your answer be ambiguous too?

so i took a pair of antique wooden chairs,

and let the white mug steaming,

blurring the window glass.

it sat unaccompanied

except by me

who was, like it, steaming,

and performing my simple rituals...

guitara

2009-10-04T10:49:00.003+07:00

"there are people i know who have a very finely developed sense of nostalgia," said leo. well, i don't know i fit into the criteria of being nostalgic. i just miss my guitar. and maxim's guitar too. especially when i'm back from work, and with a certain kind of mood for a song. the tunes ring in my head. but where did i leave my guitar? i couldn't find it anywhere. not even in my home. i left the instrument last year before i went to oxford. who might be using it now, i don't know. nobody knows where you are. how near of how far...

dark room

2009-10-01T17:17:00.003+07:00

heeiiiysss mr mosquis, fly away from me plisss,
need some sleep right here; can't stand your buzzing noise.
i speak no chineze, and don't understand this,
so stop buggin' me with your itching kiss.

(and thizis what mr mosquis sez:)

"i aint comin' to bring ye a kiss,
let alone to converse in chineze.
'am here just to see ye freeze,
without blanket in the mornin' breeze."

always

2009-09-25T15:46:00.006+07:00

may you get well soon, boss.

may your leg recover swiftly and may you start kickin' again immediately.

the holiday isn't a holiday without you around.

in our green house, now that the gentle wind is blowing in from the window,

the coffee cup is half-full, i am home with abundance of refreshing ideas,

absorbing whatever a week long vacation in the city of flower can give me.

but this is incomplete.

i will visit you tonight,

bringing for you the violin.

may you get well soon, boss.

and may soon we will ride together again.

"we got our own roads to ride and chances we gotta take,

we stood side by side, each one fightin' for the other;

we said until we died, we'd always be blood brothers."

(blood brothers, bruce springsteen)

jihan

2009-09-16T17:36:00.005+07:00

jihan really made my day.

i was standing in a line for quite a while,
queuing in a bank, expecting to get my turn
to change my cash to smaller notes,
so that i could distribute them
as a gift to my young relatives.

i noticed the person in front of me
wasn't able to change his money
because, as the teller said,
the stock of smaller notes was running out.
"please come back tomorrow," the cashier said.

nervously, while waiting to get there,
i asked jihan who nodded to my question.

in a closed envelope, she handed me my cash.
but it was through her helpful manner,
that she gave me the brightness of my day.

vietopians and tatorism

2009-09-04T18:55:00.004+07:00

like two vietopians lost in a vietnamese restaurant,
one was ben, and the other one was me,
lost ourselves in delicious noodle soup served in large bowls.

he fancied seafood; i beef.
i quenched my thirst with ginger ale; he bintang.

but soon, oh soon, we arrived at a same conclusion.
we sealed the night with a dark decafeinated taste of 'tatorism',
a term i refer to the drink from tanah toraja, celebes island.

cikini street jakarta in jakarta has both heavens.
for friends and for the good time.

home by summer

2009-08-23T23:01:00.001+07:00

back in my hometown. feel the familiar environment again. and ramadan the fasting month is here. i am happy to had a small reunion with closest relatives. this is a time i really treasure. before i left jakarta, i intentionally let my schedule free. i didn't fill my days with appointments. in that way i have the liberty to sleep. to read or not to read. to stay away from the heat on the street. to chat with anyone about any subject anytime. and to say 'yes' to spontaneous invitations offered by aviv.

well, tomorrow at five in the morning i will be seating in the train again, going from bandung back to jakarta. i will most likely sleep during the 3 hours journey. and then maybe i will dream about home. about people i met in days long ago. about moments, events, places, well you can tell. another week of work is ahead of me. monday to friday, with some more in between. without lunch breaks.

yesterday morning, on the way from jakarta to bandung, i sat on the right hand side seat in the train. from around 6.30 to 8.00 am, i saw pretty landscape of java island outside my window. with paddy fields, green and yellow; hills and mountains; rivers and villages. at sunrise they looked absolutely beautiful. i was grateful to see them. such picturesque composition of nature made me stay awake although i was tired and sleepy. i didn't want to miss a thing, steven tyler said. well, it was similar to my situation. accompanied by a stranger next to me, who listened to music from his ipod, i found the travel from jakarta to bandung yesterday was an enjoyable one.

unlike my habitual practice, i took a bus from the train station to my home. one of the slowest means of transportation in my hometown. but still, if i had another weekend like that, i would certainly do it again.

red and white

2009-08-19T18:16:00.003+07:00

two days ago the republic celebrated its independence birthday. now it's sixty four years old. festivities could be seen throughout this week in jakarta. people, old and young, participates in commemorating the event. from where i work, you can easily hear bands playing on the streetsides. this office also arranged similar kind of music performaces, inviting local artists to invite us to sing, dance, laugh and share some light moments.

today, my friends and i went to watch a movie about history, war for independence of the republic. almost the entire seats in the theatre were taken by students from a number of high schools located near the theatre. seven of us couldnt find seats in a row; we scattered here and there. the storyline of the movie was simple. telling one part of a battle that took place in java island. the soldiers from the indonesian side were from different islands. different backgrounds. they united for a common goal. such story, i think, is a general theme of uniting a nation.

now this nation is sixty four years old. if it was a person, it would have grandchildren. but there is a lot more to do. the road to achieve the dreams of this nation is indeed a long one. red and white is the colours of indonesian flag.

girl from the north country

2009-08-17T00:32:00.009+07:00

well, if you're travelin' in the north country fair, when the wind hits heavy on the borderline; remember me to the one who lives there.

she once was a true love of mine.

well, if you go when the snowflakes storm, when the rivers freeze and summer ends; please see if she's wearing a coat so warm, to keep her from the howling wind.

please see for me if her hair's hang long, if it rolls and flows all down her breast, please see for me if her hair's hang long, that's the way i remember her best.

about a pair of shoes

2009-08-11T19:23:00.004+07:00

dear shoes, may your road is long, and full of adventures.
stonehenge, the fourth of july, 2009.

jakarta at dusk

2009-08-02T16:39:00.003+07:00

't feels like living in another life time, sitting here with botseu in his living room in rasuna tower. looking at the horison of jakarta city from the balcony in the twenty ninth floor. although i can't hear any noise, i sense that all the lives down there seem very vibrant, energetic. i see that clouds are grey and far away. the sky's not as blue as finnish flag, but that's all right. the wind isn't blowing either.

one by one the city light is switched on. i look outside again, the city is now listening to the sound from mosque minarets. they announce the call for the faithful to pray at dusk. and then there is a short silence after the muezzins' call. time to pray.

la maison ou j'ai grandi

2009-07-25T21:56:00.015+07:00

the harbor lights were shining, the moon was at its high. the captain said, "thank god, we're home! we've drunk the barrels dry." the mizzen mast was shaken, and the lanterns all burned low, i'd never thought we'd make it, but we've twenty leagues to go. so blow your southern trades, and guide me safely to the shore, i'll never gonna sail the seven seas no more.

i don't want to miss the sand in my hair, the roll of the tide and the salt in the air. deep inside it's true, i'm a home loving man, comin' on home to you. i don't want to miss the wind in my eyes, the shimmerin' light when the seagull flies. lo, i've traveled far, i'm a home loving man, and home is where you are...

so here i am, back to the green house, bandung, la maison ou j'ai grandi.

going down

2009-06-30T23:14:00.007+07:00

owh... so this is the day. the thirtieth of june.

the day when all my bags are packed, and when i am ready to go again.

it is interesting to notice, while i wait here for a friend to come and travel together, that the sum of nine months of living here can fit into two suitcases, and one backpack. hoho!

my shoes are still the same. my haircut doesn't change that much, except from that which is shaped by the hat i like to wear recently.

i'll be going down soon. well, someone once said that a journey back is better than the outward one. going nowhere or somewhere cannot compare with the joy of travelling down a familiar path that has no need of a signpost. the joy of going home. i think that's true.

but my trip this time is not exactly homeward bound as yet. true that i will not comeback here and occupy the same place in the wellington square. not anymore. i have come to the conclusion of my days in oxford. they keys will be returned. but i am not leaving for jakarta. my next host will be the streets of london. cikini street will certainly have to wait a little longer before we can hug each other again.

in this house, almost everyone is already leaving. only some remain to finish their business.

i know that i am going to miss a lot of things from this place and absolutely from the experience we've got from these extraordinary days. maxim, gillian, john, helen, smitha, nicola, cassy, sandra, see you guys! all the best with your future plans!

fsp lastly

2009-06-22T02:37:00.006+07:00

in less than twelve hours i will be sitting in an examination room in keble college. all of us, eighteen students from more than ten countries, are expected to be there fifteen minutes before the test begins.

this one, on diplomatic practice, will be the first of four tests that we have to take in this coming week.

we are required to wear oxford's traditional exam dress and follow the rule of how they conduct the exams here. and so for that today i have made sure that my white bow tie, black suit, gown and cap are ready. also if i am lucky, someone will give me a white flower tomorrow to complete the dress code.

i also have prepared myself with some reading materials related to the topics i plan to answer tomorrow. it is my hope that the questions will correspond to what i have learned and memorised, such as international organisations, us' foreign policy, public diplomacy, and non-proliferation of weapons of mass destruction. these are among the topics i try to elaborate tomorrow.

and then, in the following day, i should look into the debates in international relations theories, touch the fundamental idea of the 'english school' and constructivism, revisit the main causes of the end of the cold war seen from what was going on in both the soviet union and the united states, and perhaps anticipate to write something about the cosmopolitan democracy too.

furthermore, on the economics exam, hmm... perhaps i have to read more on the current account deficit, regionalism versus multilateral trade, foreign direct investment, and washington consensus...

and last but not least, on international law, i should cover the topics from the legality of the use of force, the law of the sea, immunity of state and its officials, to states' responsibility.

and i hope that will be all.

now i wish to say to all my classmates this: friends, we all have studied hard all these terms. we have read all the journals, chapters of books, articles, international treaties, and pages of key readings for our dissertation; we have written over twenty essays during the entire programme; we have sat for countless hours in our tutorial sessions - with antonios too, in our lectures, in the bus that took us to the study tour; we have dined and played together too. well, now, we can see the gate that will take us to the end all of these labour is looming on the horizon. four doors, guys. in just one week. and then that's it. the last lap of the fsp.

so i wish you all the best with these exams! good luck! shine oooon!

the old cat and his kitten

2009-06-17T07:26:00.009+07:00

the first time i heard to this song was in ifrane, morocco, nearly six years ago. then in rabat, in the house of mr. bachtiar, a colleague of mine, i happened to find a cd containing a collection of songs, including this same track. essentially, these conversations are based on cat steven's classic hit. a dialogue between a father and his son, which he composed into a beautiful song, called 'father and son'. recently i heard this tune again, played live by the same person who has now taken the name of yusuf islam. so the story goes like this...

the old cat:

"it's not time to make a change, just relax, take it easy. you're still young, thats your fault, there's so much you have to know. find a girl, settle down, if you want you can marry. look at me, i am old, but i'm happy.

i was once like you are now, and i know that its not easy,
to be calm when you've found something going on.
but take your time, think a lot, think of everything youve got. for you will still be here tomorrow, but your dreams may not..."

the kitten, meowing in higher tone:

"how can i try to explain, when i do he turns away again.
its always been the same, same old story. from the moment i could talk i was ordered to listen. now there's a way and i know that i have to go away. i know i have to go."

again, the old cat:

"it's not time to make a change, just sit down, take it slowly. you're still young, thats your fault, there's so much you have to go through. find a girl, settle down, if you want you can marry. look at me, i am old, but i'm happy.

(the kitten: away away away, i know i have to make this decision alone - no)

the kitten again, in high tone:

all the times that i cried, keeping all the things i knew inside, it's hard, but its harder to ignore it. if they were right, i'd agree, but its them you know not me. now there's a way and i know that i have to go away. i know i have to go...

(the old cat-- stay stay stay, why must you go and make this decision alone...)"

finish. that's the end of the song and the conversation. enough meowing for tonight... the cats then went to eat their fish dinner.

midsummer night

2009-06-12T07:13:00.004+07:00

on days like these, butterflies glinting white across the skies, telling us a secret that the year has been good to them. on nights like these, the moon and the stars come out to play silently, like dancing lights in the sky. as if it was an invitation for today's van gogh to recast another 'starry night' spell on a canvas of a midsummer night's dream, in this city of the dreaming spires...

apple of summer

2009-06-03T04:27:00.003+07:00

"tic, toc, tic, toc, tic, toc..." the time is ticking into the month called june. everyone and everything are marching in with it. a season named summer is out therew. outside my window. it keeps the sun up high until late. the stars and the moon must hasten back disappear to allow mr. sunlight come sooner. little animals rejoice under its shower of sunshine. birds are back into this little town. atop the roof and on the branches they sing.

the huge pine tree in front of saint john's gate, which was once decorated with colourful lamps for christmas, must admit that now it is less colourful compared to the bushes and their wild flowers.

i'm sitting here with my apple. seems like we're trying to understand each other, without saying any word.

a prelude to a finale

2009-05-23T07:08:00.007+07:00

and so the fourth week of trinity is almost over. half way to the end of the road. and the rest will not be so easy. but this is already expected. i can see it from here, that the road ahead will go uphill. climbing is the only way to get there. no matter how slow or how fast you walk or run, the gravity will certainly demand from you an extra labour if you really want to scale. whether or not you are prepared, no one can exactly tell. perhaps no one is actually ever ready for undertaking such kind of heaviness. the best you can do, perhaps, is work steadily and keep on walking. like frank sinatra said, it's the time to bite off more than you can chew.

what i need in the coming days will be some big chunks of liberty between my hours of routinity. i will have to find those times in this trinity. and when i do, no matter how tiny, i will use them to finish my duty. to finally say to the whole party, this is my conclusion, my accomplished responsibility... inchalla.

new fashion in town

2009-05-18T05:48:00.007+07:00

although i am not professionally a fashion designer, who can share clever opinion on whether green and purple are match with each other, or which one of them should be a little bit brigther, lately i can judge that houses dress themselves to fit this season's colours. and they look better.

also the bikes. they put make up in vibrant shapes and colours and looked much merrier. perhaps soon the other permanent residents of the city will have to adjust their outward costumes too. hohoo...

"this is my new green cloth," says the house to the bikes.

"and these are our purple balloons," replied the bikes.

welcome

2009-05-16T05:43:00.003+07:00

thank you, victor. it is a wonderful surprise that 'on days like these', your book, arrived today.

it is indeed a comfort to know that some things never change. a place, a face, a feeling, a taste, a warmth, a poem, a friendship, anything. a constant thing that stays as it has always been.

like the sun.

perhaps it's because i am a may man. a taurean like you. who never quite want to get too far away from the sun. and from the tales that you have written.

it feels so nice read from you again. especially on the days like these. almost ten years since i was first introduced to you. in that old building where your book of traveller's tales rested as a collection. donated by the british council.

i know that some of them, those who speak very fluently the language of the snows, are also fond of swiming in your lines.

another spring

2009-05-14T04:55:00.003+07:00

if i might see another spring
i'd not plant summer flowers and wait:
i'd have my crocuses at once,
my leafless pink mezereons,
my chill-veined snowdrops, choicer yet
my white or azure violet,
leaf-nested primrose; anything
to blow at once not late.

if i might see another spring
i'd listen to the daylight birds
that build their nests and pair and sing,
nor wait for mateless nightingale;
i'd listen to the lusty herds,
the ewes with lambs as white as snow,
i'd find out music in the hail
and all the winds that blow.

if i might see another spring—
oh stinging comment on my past
that all my past results in "if"—
if I might see another spring
i'd laugh to-day, to-day is brief;
i would not wait for anything:
i'd use to-day that cannot last,
be glad to-day and sing.

the beauty of the future

2009-05-09T05:00:00.005+07:00

"vahd, if you could only remember how it looked like in the future, you would see how beautiful it is. and it helps you to better understand and memorise the present and the past."

when lillian said that to me, my mind went beyond their context. a few steps across the border of meanings. my instant reaction when hearing that sentence was smiling and thinking to myself, "how could i possibly 'remember' how something looked like 'in the future'?"

i have no crystal ball to consult.

well, in fact, i don't need one. all i need is my lecture notes. and a heavier dose of focus and consentration while in the classroom.

because afterall, lillian is my native french teacher. and she was about to teach me the easiest way to memorise various forms of tenses in french.

"voila, lillian. je n'oublierai pas 'le futur'." i came so far for beauty.

i am coming...

2009-05-03T18:46:00.001+07:00

a yellow coming out of white.

a sailor's monologue

2009-05-03T17:50:00.009+07:00

take your time, youth, make no haste. the night's still young, and the waves can wait. the time will freeze, and the dawn will come late. dont you stand still, there by the gate, preparing yourself to fulfill that unknown mandate. hear your faithful 'me' begs you here, not to migrate.

but if must you soon leave, youth, then kindly say something. reveal your unspoken maps to the eyes of the world. where is that nameless shore you hid the oars of the boat?

use simple language, dont stay muted. one day you'll look back at this very age, and you'll be amused. stay here one more night, or if you cant, just one or two more hours. and let the story be heard. but if it is your call already to go away, oi, oi, oi,...

then please do take this blue lantern with you. it will gladen your heart in some way.

clouds

2009-04-25T20:11:00.006+07:00

i am spellbound by the sunny spring, as if my soul yearns to be free like birds on the wing. there are so much perfect offerings that come to me from morning to evening. yet i must contend with saying no and no again, although deep within my curiousity remains tangling.

i must refuse, because this is but one of the few weeks in my life, when i measure things in terms of how many pages i typed and revised. not kilometers passed, not tunes of songs played, not movies or sports and games watched, not letters and calls received, not photographs of faces made, not sterlings euros or dollars earned. no, no, no.

ahead of me is the month of may. and a new set of weeks of trinity, the last lap towards the end of the race. with exams and deadlines await me at the gate. and then, may i return peacefully to where i came from after the dining tools are cleaned and shelved.

but until then, there is sill a month of may ahead. and one silent but memorable thing a taurean will annually celebrate.

meet the goblins

2009-04-17T05:10:00.008+07:00

wednesday is market day in oxford. thursday too, but the items they sell are different in each day. thursday is mainly for second hand stuffs. old books, porcelains, decorations, cds, musical instruments, et cetera. wednesday is the day for fresh vegetable, poultry, meat and cheese. and fruits too. everything is sweet and colourful. and costs less than in the supermarket.

yesterday morning i went to this wednesday market near gloucester green bus station. in my mind was of oranges apples or vegetables to buy. and then, if i found something nice, i might take it with me for my lunch or quick snack. so i came there. i observed the sellers first, with a pocket camera in my hand. and listened to their calls. "come buy! come buy! a pound one bag for these grapes! two bags for the strawberries!"

and after two or three captured photos, somehow my intention was attracted to something else. not those fruit or the vegetables. it was someone's literary work. rossetti's "goblin market". i found it among the the piles of antique merchandise.

"thank you very much darling, it's one pound, love," said the seller. and i took the book home with me. an old fashioned compilation of rosetti's works. i have never heard of christina rossetti before. it was my introduction day. but i was immediately touched by this 'first hello', because later when i read it, i think the narrative of the goblin men, the sellers in the fairytale-like setting, and everything and everything, all fit to the scenery of tim burton's animations and danny elfman's scores and songs! if you wish you can read it too, here, although i thnk it is nicer to read from the book because you can do it on your bed just when you're about to go to sleep.

"... apples and quinces, lemons and oranges, plump unpecked cherries; melons and raspberries; bloom-down-cheeked peaches, swart-headed mulberries; wild free-born cranberries; crab-apples, dewberries; pine-apples, blackberries; apricots, strawberries--all ripe together... come buy, come buy!"

"...we must not look at goblin men, we must not buy their fruits: who knows upon what soil they fed their hungry thirsty roots?"

"come buy," call the goblins hobbling down the glen...

and in my dream last night, indeed i was visiting the goblin market and met those merchant men.

collegium sanctae crucius oxoniae

2009-04-14T03:32:00.012+07:00

when i try to think through about my laptop that doesn't work, i started to figure out that it is perhaps not entirely a bad thing that the graphic card is not functioning.

perhaps i need some rest from it, and it from me too.

like love, it sometimes needs holiday, doesn't it?

after a few days without a working laptop in my room, the rhythm of my life began to change. i feel it now, today. when i walked from my house to this place, a small loft in my college, saint cross, an attic library room with two racks of books and four computers to use. i go out of my room more often. and i meet people more here in this little space, although mostly it is nick a friend from germany, or nicola from korea.

there is no music in my room. no radio, no television. so it is more tranquil now. and i can distance myself from news and from the internet when it is not essential. i just use my room to rest and relax. i can see better of what i really need, what is necessary and what is supplementary. no work until midnight anymore because i use my time differently. only when i really want, i can come downstairs and use the piano in the college's saugman's common room. playing the same chords that i know by heart. or just improvise and pretend that i'm billy joel - when no one is watching, of course.

i also wonder how many extra hours that i have now just from doing something else than randomly clicking here and there. i make use more of my lunch box, because when i work here, i am far from my kitchen. so to safe time and some pounds, i cook more, vegetarian food - strangely, take some with me in the box, and make more coffee or tea and put it in my flusk, and read more here in silence, and all is happening, i think, after my laptop needs some rest.

and today i made phone calls to my friends. one is treated because of his illness, and one is going to get married soon. so happy to hear from them. only about ten minutes each, but it was such a different thing to hear their voices again. not only texts. well, this paraghaph, like the title of this posting, has nothing to do with my laptop story really - i just feel like writing it here...

now, back about my laptop, i really don't know whether or not i should replace or fix it soon.

hmm, above all of those things i mentioned, there is also one story that i can not forget. it was an experience from one of my bus trips in the continental europe two weeks ago. i sat next to this man, a student like me who lost his laptop, money, and all essential documents during his travel. and from his talk on the phone, explaining to his relatives of how difficult it was for him to loose everything important, i know i can not say that my situation here is the end of everything.

i still have my time, and a space to learn from the things i experience and those around me. i will try to think again when something undesireable happened, maybe there's somewhere that it wants to lead me to. so when things go bad, i should not immediately get worried. i will try to stay calm, and carry on.

a walk in the spring

2009-04-12T01:53:00.000+07:00

a geography

2009-04-12T00:14:00.002+07:00

birds of the air know
the man with a house everywhere
has no home anywhere.

fourty five parallel

2009-04-09T00:00:00.006+07:00

ah, it's home, home again.

the room is not tidy, but it's my own room now, not a hotel room or someone else's room. it's warm in a special way even when the heater is off. and even if all you have is a bag full of dirty laundries and a fridge without food left. you are back, so it's okay.

well, this is my first full day here. i came back from the eurpean continent yesterday morning. i took a bus from the lowland through belgium and france and a ferry that departed from calais port at two in the morning. cold and rainy it was. plus one hour across the strait, and landed again in dover harbour...

and then victoria station bid me a sleepy welcome as i made it to london at five thirty in the morning. the streets were yet empty. but the coffee shop was fortunately open.

it was a mixed emotion that i felt when i see england again. already i missed the people i met in the continent. something in me feels that the entire trip seems surreal, if you know what i mean. the towns i visited, the transportation methods i chose, the timing of my travel, the fantastic people i met, the activities i did, the stories shared between us... it was all just right.

and today, i feel restored. i am ready to resume my dissertation work although my laptop still has not worked yet. it has been angry at me since we were in paris... makes me "oi oi oi".

well, at least now i am back in the fourty five parallel. oxford.

"welcome back vahd," said john;

"vahd, i used your rice cooker when you were away, it's a good machine," confessed smitha;

"about your laptop problem, don't worry, i can transfer your files from the hard disc to your external one for free," daqi assured me;

"oh, it's very nice to see you again vahd... by the way do you know, i have to see a dentist today," said sandra...

ho ho ho... wonderful friends they are.

after a day of resting, now i think it's time to read, think, and write again, and continue my days as a student.

but before anything else, i sincerely want to thank all my friends and relatives who have been very kind and hospitable during my journey. you made it such a meaningful and unforgetable trip to me... so thank you, thank you very much indeed.

delfland

2009-04-05T04:57:00.002+07:00

a day spent on a bike. with a borrowed bicycle i came to the coast of a place called 'monster' in the netherlands. from there you could see the sea that separated me from england. it was a terribly windy and cloudy day. with musa and the other bikers from indonesia i left delft at ten and back here at five. i rest in musa's space box immediately as the room was cosy and my legs were exhausted.

hmm... there, and back again. this is my third episode of visiting delft, a dutch town known for its blue ceramics and delicious cheese. my third episode of connecting the dots. the lines on the map are getting thicker. each visit has its own purpose and results. not all of these are known to me, at least in the beginning.

oi oi oi...

Lemmego

2009-04-02T19:11:00.003+07:00

as a small city in north westphalia, germany, lemgo is a quiet place. i arrived here yesterday to meet and stay at my brother will's place. luckily the sun is on our side. although it winds sometimes and temperature drops during the nights, i still feel comfortably fine here.

the journey to get here was exceptionally difficult, i must admit. i took a night bus that departed ten minutes too early, but arrive one our too early too. leaving me alone in a small german town at three in the morning with no shelter. i was feeling terrible cold and lost. i speak no german. even if i did, there was no one to spoke to anyway in that small station near bielefeld.

i struggled with cold, listening to my mp3 and learned how to get the earliest train to a bigger town. after two hours of waiting in minus eight celcius, i made it to bielefeld. at six in the morning...

but now i am restored. although i feel that my mind and my heart are still in the open fields of the farmlands i visited four days ago in antwerp. my curiousity still dwell in the classroom of the second level elementary school i visited last monday.

today i will leave lemgo. detmold is the next stop, before my long journey continue to the lowlands...

such a perfect day

2009-03-24T03:47:00.006+07:00

so here i am again. revisiting madame geneva's backyard. the parks and the avenue de la paix.

i entered swiss on saturday from strasbourg france through land frontiers near basel. across the river rhein, welcomed with a smile by the majestic mountains and rolling hills of the cantons. seven years ago this place was a meeting point between twenty five young souls who came from different countries. we stayed then for about three weeks at madame remy's bed and breakfast.
never thought at all that i would one day make my way here.

almost seven years later, now, the broken chair monument's still there in front of the united nations headquarter. the old city, the bridges and the fountain remain the same, except now the water is much colder. the river rhone that goes to france, the trams, the swiss clocks that decorate the city... all are like they used to be.

i wished i could see freddie mercury's real "made in heaven" statue in montreux, overlooking the lake at sunset from the lake geneva shoreline. i don't think i have time to come there this time. i also tried to absorb the feel of the "smoke on the water" song of the deep purple, in which they said that they came out to montreux on the lake geneva shoreline to make records with a mobile.

but anyway, yesterday was particularly a perfect day for me. one of the best weekends i've ever had. i sat on a bench looking at the lake leman as blue as the sky. no clouds either in the sky or in my head, just swans swimming and spray from the giant fountain.

lou reed's "perfect day" was a right soundtrack that describe my weekend, "when problems were left alone and we're just weekenders on our own..." hohoo..

... i really thanked God alhamdulillah for that wonderful sunday...

madame geneva's

2009-03-22T05:38:00.001+07:00

i’m a maker of ballads right pretty
i write them right here in the street
you can buy them all over the city
yours for a penny a sheet

i’m a word pecker out of the printers
out of the dens of Gin Lane
i’ll write up a scene on a counter
- confessions and sins in the main, boys
confessions and sins in the main

then you’ll find me in Madame Geneva’s
keeping the demons at bay
there’s nothing like gin for drowning them in
but they’ll always be back on a hanging day, on a hanging day

they come rattling over the cobbles
they sit on their coffins of black
some are struck dumb, some gabble
top-heavy on brandy or sack
the pews are all full of fine fellows
and the hawker has set up her shop
as they’re turning them off at the gallows
she’ll be selling right under the drop, boys
selling right under the drop

then you’ll find me in Madame Geneva’s
keeping the demons at bay
there’s nothing like gin for drowning them in
but they’ll always be back on a hanging day, on a hanging day...

the letters that lenny sent

2009-03-04T17:53:00.005+07:00

and there he goes, singing a song about the letters that he's sent...

"she never liked to get
the letters that he sent.

but now she's got the gist
of what his letters meant.

she's reading them again,
the ones she didn't burn.

she pressed them to her lips,
his pages of concern.

he said there'd been a flood.
he said there's nothing left.

he hoped that she would come.
he gave her his address.

her story was so long,
the plot was so intense,

it took her years to cross
the lines of self-defense.

the wounded forms appear:
the loss, the full extent;

and simple kindness there,
the solitude of strength.

she walks into his room,
she stands there at his desk.

begin her letter to
the one who's coming next..."

five-word message

2009-02-27T05:26:00.010+07:00

this is a poster in my dining room. the original ones were used during the world war two to influence public opinion. there were no television and internet back then. poster was a highly effective medium to steady public's resolve and maintain morale. and the five-word message sums it all. in today's context the words are still relevant somehow. keep calm and carry on. nothing ideological. just simply british.

time to cook

2009-02-22T03:00:00.003+07:00

perhaps i shouldn't treat academic homeworks (essays, dissertation, presentation, etc.) the way i do poems or fiction stories. i mean, not substantively of course, for certainly the two categories do belong to different baskets of qualification. but more in terms of how to craft them.

lately i came to discover that i spend quite a splendid amount of attention and time in trying to make my homeworks tasty and delicious, which is nearly impossible. there is just not enough time to do that. it's like you can't cook a real good fancy food when you have less than five minutes.

i guess there is an appropriate limit of time to be allocated for each work that we do. circling around one single job for a long time may give you the advantage of seeing the details. but this benefit comes to you at the cost of losing the opportunity to tap the other possibilities.

i know i can not always choose what i want to do, what i want to write, or read. or eat, or cook. yet i try to be wise in administering my twenty four hours a day, so that i can remain intact and still can escape my room in the daytime to breath the fresh air outside. i can read what they want me to read, even if i disagree with the material that i read, while i also can read books about china 's foreign affairs which are compulsory for my dissertation. the same with writing.

if only you understand what is expected from your text, or your work, it will be simpler to finish the job. perhaps not necessarily easier, but at least you can focus better and accomplish the mission sooner.

nightingales

2009-02-18T07:39:00.006+07:00

midnight birds, what are you doing out there. i can hear your conversations from my room. after everyone in this house is asleep, except me, you and your friends are still singing in the park. why?

do you discuss something out there? i believe you don't have essays to submit this week, do you? so what do you discuss, tell me please. in english if possible.

are you cold, or scared? are you a bit drunk tonight? or are you just having a late night picnic at the wellington square? is it a bit hungry that you feel? would you like to have some bread? or are you just being touched by loneliness? it must be dark out there, isn't it. i hope you are not lost.

i'm sure you're not afraid of darkness. i hear your's is a lovely song. it seems as if nature speaks through you in this midnight hour. even though to me it's a bit odd to hear birds singing at this time, i admit your cheerful music bring a sense of spring into my mind. so please carry on singing. tell your stories to the stars, or to the wind if it's a cloudy night... and i will sit silently right here, in my room at the basement of this old house, guessing what is the meaning of your sweet song. if you wouldn't mind.

---

"...i built my house beside the wood
so i could hear you singing,
and it was sweet and it was good
and love was all beginning..."

- nightingale, l.c.-

antidote

2009-02-11T09:09:00.010+07:00

he is just trying to remain intact these days. because it feels like standing in an open field and four strong winds try to drag this grip away. from all directions the questions come, freezing and hard, embracing the youth that resides within him with their arms of ice. asking him for his time and his name. he gave them both. they still want more. the rest. oh he guessed only the red twinkling lamp attached to the rear of his bike would really give him protection from behind.

if he squeezes an hour of his time, he will get five to ten minutes of it as the core of that hour, the essence of his concentrated work. the summary of the sixty minutes. because the rest are but a story upon which he dwells to get to his ultimate quality. a story he presents to the world, with his name on the top of it as its title. when the clock is ticking, the heart is beating too, and the evolution goes on. dark, bright, ever changing of seasons. the progress, or not really, simply the movement, continues to make sure that the ship reaches the land. now look at the waves, and be silent... ah, and he knows it's the time for the swan to float on the english river.

scattered on ice

2009-02-08T08:28:00.003+07:00

mexican food, fierce snowball fight, unfinished work, slippery streets, broken sketches, sweet lemonade, cold nescafé, unwanted bike, green photograph, wet pair of shoes, cold freezing toes, no banana, pink usb, untuned guitar, ukulele, iced lamb and flag, series of dream, rock and roll gear, white wedding gown, mega pixels, known history, february, antarctica.

foreign affairs, black blue and green, baia mare, light lone moment, swollen handle, distant phone calls, unexploded, one two and three, clean fresh laundry, d destiny, fair election, pure poetry, red pagoda, last slain dragon, absolutely, lost strawberry, piccadilly, chinese new year, unrhyming words, scattered on ice.

snow storm

2009-02-05T07:16:00.004+07:00

on monday we had snow storm. it created quite a lot of problems here. many schools were closed. my teacher couldn't make it from london to oxford. lectures canceled and many more stories about it...

but to me the coming of snow was a sign that i could sleep more soundly. true, it was a cold day. and that's exactly what made the warmth of blanket and bed a luxury. once i went outside, i rejoiced my heart at seeing the whites all around the town. their brightness and softness, came without noise, like a nice surprise.

today the snow began to melt. they went and i don't know when they'll be back again.

until the day of the snows return, i'll have to content myself with the pictures i took.

"dam, dididam, dididam, dididamdamdam, dam... minä lähden pohjois karjalaan...!"

that road

2009-01-31T08:29:00.003+07:00

"...it is not helpful to gather answers when no questions have been asked first," he said. a line that made me pause, and reread it, and pause again, and continue reading...

i arrived at that passage when i was reading an article on the cold war.

yes it has been a week of a long road to international relations theory to me. and the route was not an easy one. it's got so many metaphors. often talking in images. if you had no map, you'd want to drive carefully and slowly along that windy road.

"you may have not got the right answers. or not yet. but at least you've asked the right question."

penetrate

2009-01-22T08:32:00.003+07:00

i was nearly convinced that
the things mind or heart
left unsaid by day or night
will stay out of sight
long after your depart.

hilary

2009-01-19T06:58:00.002+07:00

this coming week is the beginning of my hilary term. my second term here in oxford. another journey into eight weeks of courses, tutorials, essays, visiting lecturers and perhaps presentations. one third of the entire programme is done, and i feel quite okay with the journey i made so far.

i have a bike now. purple. not new, but i'm happy with it, and it's history. it's an inheritance from a friend. i dressed it with red and white lamps so that police will not catch me when i happen to roam around in the dark, which i often do. especially now in winter, when days are short and sky is often grey. the red lamps, oh you should see them when they're twinkling. attractive and lively. with this bike, i am hoping to be able to extend the limits of my exploration around these areas...

i notice too that lately the curls on my hair are more dominant. i will not cut them, not exactly now. because i still like the feel of them - a certain kind of freedom, like when i'm on the bike and the wind is heavy, tossing them. and my heart will sing... "bicycle, bicycle, bicycle... i want to ride my bicycle, i want to ride by bike...! i want to ride my bicycle, i want to ride it where i like..."

circle

2009-01-12T08:04:00.003+07:00

as i was trying to digest the diagrams and tables presented in my macroeconomic lesson, i couldn't help to wonder if only there's an equilibrium point in life - like in one of those curves - where ideas, faiths and meanings can be just weightless again. free from the pressure of the marketplace and economic gain, free from the burden of perpetual growth and inflationary chain, free from the value set by the exchange rate and interest margins.

i think the study is partly trying to tell us and convince us that 'the economy' is an extraordinarily big 'animal', and it is so big that it covers the entire world. and we have to feed it. and some feed it with bullets.

blue will always do

2009-01-08T21:03:00.006+07:00

last night i started to sketch with my blue pencils again. three human figures; all of them men. one carrying a bag; another smoking a cigarette; and the last one sipping a cup of hot tea.

they are my first drawing in a few months.

i prefer blue pencils to ordinary black ones for a story.

one morning nearly five years ago, i walked through this particular street in pasila, helsinki, on my way to work and i spotted a blue pencil on an empty street close to a kindergarten. after a gentle rain in the summer, it was as if the pencil was calling me. "heeey there, i'm cold down here, please would you take me with you?" it said. so i examined it first, and i thought the wetness of the rain made the pencil a bit soft on my touch.

after a while, the warmth from my pocket returned its stiffness. it was hard again and becoming my companion during the next weeks, months and even years. sketches of houses; images of pine forests; lakes; faces; starry nights; desert of sahara; illustration on my letters; and many more were thus made with the help of it.

until in may 2005, on my birthday, i received from my friends a sketch book and three new pencils. all blue, but with different shade of "blueness". oi-oi-oi, my heart was rejoiced, and surprised mainly for knowing that my friends actually noticed how fond i was of my blue pencil. and i thank them for the attention shown by the present. i still wish they are doing all right where-ever they are now. and they should know too, the rembrandt-polycolor they gave still serve me well in my time here.

to those who wait

2009-01-03T17:31:00.004+07:00

last week i went to a supermarket to buy snacks. and i found a pie which i've never tasted before, it was sold in a box with a note like on this picture:

i was moved by the fifth line of the text. haha! so i ventured to buy it. and i've got a delicious pukka pie, plus a lesson on "patience" as a bonus. :)

a note from the north

2008-12-31T12:07:00.007+07:00

Dear Friends,

Wish you all have a relaxing time and a happy holiday. Wherever you are during this vacation, it’s my hope that you have it the way you want it to be. Some of you might be returning to your parents’ houses - having family reunions. Others preferred to (or had to) stay at work or study place, or visiting friends. Well, in any way, - I hope you enjoy it.

To me, this December break gave an opportunity to make a solo journey through several cities in Northern Ireland, Scotland and England. After the weeks of my first term – Michaelmas – are over, I thought it would be a liberating thing to do. And it was, actually. Especially because I sensed that such a chance will hardly come again to me – at least in my years as a student – when my legs are yet unwearied by long journeys, when my eyes are eager for seeing new things, and when my heart, thirsty for knowledge, drinks its fill. :)

But being a student also means I have no luxury to afford travelling in expensive manner. Therefore, the lone backpacking which I just did, apart from giving me the excitement of sightseeing, also provided me with a useful lesson on planning skills. My scenario was to visit eight cities in sixteen days. It involved trips by foot, coach, plane and boat, but no train – except once from the airport to the city centre of Glasgow. Most of the itinerary was arranged a month in advance, so that I could save from the discounted fares an amount which I then allocated on meals, lodges and modest entertainment. It was a rewarding deal, even that as the consequence I could not alter the time or the route, and must keep myself accord with the minute precision of the schedule. Punctuality was essential in this voyage - as is in many important things in our lives. :) And thanks God; I think in this matter I became more proficient.

I met many friends during the trip. I stayed at their homes in some cities. But most of the travel was conducted in solitary. Not that I was in the mood of solitude, even though I had been alone from the beginning of my trip in Belfast city. It was mainly because my free time and my priority of travelling did not seem to coincide with those of my colleagues. So we went our own different ways. Yet it worked out fine for me. I had no need to adapt myself to loneliness as many must, since from the start it was like a second home to me - a place I can always visit whenever I want to chill down or simply to read or compose a writing. In fact, from solo travel like this I feel that we can learn for ourselves the ability to mingle with strangers, although sometimes – when you’re out there on your own – the strangest person you might find is perhaps no one but yourself. :)

Now I am home, and it remains for me to take a little rest and write some of my reflection about the journey. I call it “A Note from the North”. If this interests you dear friends, please do read on...

Belfast

It started with a study tour to Northern Ireland. I came to Belfast as a part of my programme in the University. My class is of eighteen students coming from thirteen lands of origin. I am one of the two Indonesians in the group. On Monday eight of December we left Oxford at seven in the morning by coach. Dark and cold. No surprise if among us there's somebody who did not take shower beforehand - can you guess who? Hmm… :) well, anyway, I was wearing a formal black suit with tie and carrying a large backpack, which in terms of fashion didn't seem to match at all. :) And through the cold I had to walk slowly from my house in Wellington Square to the meeting point since the street was slippery with ice that was forming the night before. I arrived in Mansfield Road just when the coach was about to depart to London. During the coach ride and the one hour flight from Heathrow to Belfast afterwards, I slept soundly and undisturbed.

And then we arrived in Belfast - the capital of Northern Ireland. If you Googled or searched in history books, you may find that the city of Belfast has a lot to tell about conflict and peace. Many people in Northern Ireland want to join the Republic of Ireland; and many others want to remain as part of the United Kingdom. The issue has not been completely settled until today – yet the situation is much more peaceful now.

During the three days of my group’s stay in Belfast, the British Council filled the schedule with programmes that gave us an idea about the recent history of the city. It included trips to the parts of the city where the community and the neighbourhood are divided by a long tall fence and where armed conflict used to take place. But besides that we also had a trip to Stormont castle (parliament building) which can be seen as a symbol of willingness to resolve the conflict through political and peaceful means. We had the chance to hear from the NGOs, the police and the political parties’ members, about the way they settle the differences since the 1998 Good Friday Agreement in a non-violent manners. I witnessed too - when we went through the roads - the colourful murals made by both the Unionists and the Republicans, which ascertain me that besides fighters they also have visionary and talented artists and poets on their sides.

On our first night in Belfast, aside from sharing a light moment of walking around the city centre, we also shared a special experience of waking up to a loud fire alarm in our hotel. At half past twelve AM, we rushed in our pyjamas, kimonos, and wearing sandals from our rooms, and gathered outside the hotel lobby. No doubt we were sleepy, surprised, and upset at the same time. Yet it turned out to be my first chance seeing some of my friends’ faces without make up. :) So natural of them. Interestingly, I saw a friend from Tonga called Leo who managed to secure a large bag with him, carrying it all the way from his room through the stairways and got to the roadside; while another friend of mine from South Korea, April, came down in a hurry that she was not even wearing a sandal. A few minutes later two fire trucks arrived, and the brave men in bright yellow vests entered the building. Later they said the heating system had a problem and caused some smoke which set the siren on - and it was solved. The hotel crew were then allowing us to re-enter the building, and offering us free drinks from the bar - although in that hour most of us found no appetite except for continuing our sleep, which was understandable.

Next day, we went to Harland and Wolff yards. It’s the dock where RMS Titanic was built in 1911. We know the ship is famous for a wrong reason - it sank after hitting an iceberg on its maiden trip from Southampton to New York in 1912, causing the loss of more than a thousand lives. The disaster still makes a lot of us ponder about how such a tragedy could happen so unexpectedly, and at this my thoughts went to the victims of sea liner accidents in my archipelagic country, and I prayed to God for the safety of our next journeys.

At the end of our second day's programme, a merry evening was awaiting us. After having a fine dinner at a restaurant nearby the hotel, everybody’s courage and hidden artistic talent were summoned. Each of us had to sing to gladden our hearts - even though many of us could barely carry a tune and despite there was no karaoke machine to be our guiding angel. We performed solos and duets, live of course. Alison, our programme’s secretary, was the only one who luckily managed to keep her talent unnoticed by Jan, Abdulai, Mr. Hunt and the other talent scouts – so that she did not have to chant any melody that night. But next time, who knows? We simply had a very good light moment that night; although I reckoned that deep in our hearts we hoped the fire siren would not ruin our dreams again.

Giants Causeway

On the following day, the study tour programme ended. And as everyone else returned to London and Oxford, I remained in Belfast. During my extra stay, I was hosted in my friend Gillian's parents' house. I felt warmly welcomed by her family; even though Gillian herself was not yet there on the day I arrived at their house. And, ah! My heart was as light as a bird when Helen, Gillian’s mom, showed me the room: there were piles of novels and storybooks in it. So it happened that during the two nights of my stay I finished reading two small books: the adventures of Sinbad and of Tom Sawyer. The last one somehow reminded me of my childhood time with my oldest brother Zacky.

I was also introduced to Gillian's sister Emily and learned that the horse paintings in their kitchen were made by her. I forget whether they were of crayon or pastel, but two out of the five were blue and red with dreamy psychedelic backgrounds. I love them. I later found out that except David - Gil's father, everyone else in the family is left-handed. And they all are fond of horses.

I had an extra stay in Northern Ireland because I wanted to have time to see more of the place, especially County Antrim and the north-eastern coastal areas of the island. Therefore on the following day, early in the morning, I took a coach to join a day-tour to Giants Causeway. It had been my dream to go up there. I saw of the place from movies. Last one was Hellboy II, which was showing a scene with County Antrim on it, a place where the main character, Red, was resurrected by the Angel of Death. Have you seen the movie, by the way? Ah - anyway, on my way there, I also had the chance to see more of the countryside. The coach driver shared some stories about the surroundings, and we stopped in few locations to see and breathe the fresh air outside: in Carrickfergus, Carnlough, Portaneevey, and on the way back, in Bushmills – a home of the oldest legal distillery in the world. In one of the stops I found a spot where King William III, known as William of Orange, landed in Ireland more than three hundred years ago. We also passed a tranquil village called Glynn, which is said to have been founded by St.Patrick - the saint patron of Ireland. The west coast of Scotland was visible from the coastal way too.

We managed to reach our final destination before rain, and as soon as we arrived, I walked through the cliffs and down to the seaside, North Atlantic Ocean, with another visitor whose name is El, from Singapore. We followed a route with a wooden fence on our left-hand side. The earth was fresh and green. Grasses as far as eyes could see; and I heard frogs croaked from the bushes. Winter wind was heavy; my arms freezing and my nose was running. I needed to take the supply of pocket tissues from my bag. But it's all worth it. I lingered for more than two hours around the spectacular site, set my eyes and mind free, and marvelled at the natural wonder that has been in existence since 65 to 30 million years ago. Columns of stone, piling high as if they were arranged by a mighty designer, partly emerging from the sea in an orderly manner. Most of them are hexagonal stones. So cool. I ended the journey with a lunch at the Causeway hotel just before rain started to fall – for upon us all a little rain must fall, sang Robert Plant of Led Zeppelin. :)

Scotland

After Northern Ireland, I shall write now of Scotland, and of three cities that I visited in this beautiful country: Glasgow, Inverness and Edinburgh. This country occupies the third northern part of the island of Great Britain, and used to be called by many names; it was known as Caledonia – the name used by the Romans, and also as Alba – after the kingdom that once existed there; but today we are most familiar with Scotland, for everyone knows what land that is.

Before I came there, I looked at some maps of the cities on the internet and tried to master them by logic and, when possible, by heart. I understand that a man travelling with this knowledge could make himself aware of directions when necessary. I didn't carry a travel-guide book. My intention was to discover whatever I could along the way. In that way, life became not easier – but simpler to me. However, I had a few names of places which interested me most. I wrote them in a little black book where I sketch and write down my thoughts. Their function was simply to provide me with a sense of destinations so that I can navigate myself better and in a clearer gist of direction. But if it turned out that I could not reach those places – surely I found something else – and I had no regret about that. Because like what James Bond said, “If it happened, it happened. Regret was unprofessional.” :)

Glasgow

My arrival in Glasgow was met by a friend whose name is Nuh. He is a student of Strathclyde University. At the sight of him, the first thing I noticed was his hair - not very short as it usually was anymore. He came to fetch me at Prestwick airport which was located much farther than the other airport of the city which he knew. As soon as we reached Glasgow Central Station, I saw that the city centre was transformed into a fair ground, where there was dancing and where gaily dressed crowds poured along the streets and mixed among the police officers in yellow and Santas in red. Nuh loved the Christmas lamps on George Square – especially those in the shape of bells. We tried to reach another friend – Fitri, but failed. We believed it must be because of the many works she had to prepare for an exam or an essay. Nevertheless, Nuh made sure I had a great time in Glasgow. Not only the large portions of his delicious food that filled me, but also the knowledge he shared with me during our walks – we talked about computer, sciences, virtual world, home; all the things that are worth contemplating.

Inverness

On Sunday morning, fourteenth of December, I left Glasgow and went to a smaller city to the north called Inverness. It’s the capital of the Scottish Highlands. To get there my yellow bus took me across mountainous road with snowy sceneries. I saw that every valley has a hill, and beyond each hill lies another valley – for four hours. Upon my arrival, first thing I did was to find a safe place to store my backpack. Luckily there was a hostel nearby. I didn’t understand why there were so many Hungarians in that hostel, but instead of finding out why, I was a lot more interested in walking around the street called Academy. There I found an antique Victorian market. Most of the shops were closed as it was Sunday, but I there was one that opened and selling postcards. I purchased some.

I content myself with kebabs, salads, fish and chips and sandwiches during the trip. And once I restored strength to my legs I walked through all the marked paths along the side of a river called Ness. ‘Inver’ in Gaelic is a word that means ‘mouth of a river’, thus the city is called Inverness: the mouth of the River Ness. The streets were rather empty before dark, and only few cars were seen. The River Ness on my side originates from a lake famous for a legendary monster perceived to be dwelling in it – Loch Ness. The water on the river looked dark and thick with vegetation. On a distance I could see ducks floating in small group. I crossed one bridge and found a path that led into a park on an island, but it was already too dark and too cold to stay there. So I continued walking and decided to make a phone call to Indonesia telling my father of what I saw. I did not call my mother knowing it had been already late at that time in Indonesia and, unlike my father had, surely she had been asleep. And it was really nice to hear the voice from home again, you know, as if you are you are touched by the care in his familiar speak and laughter. He told me news from home, and they made me feel more jovial. It was as if “You are taking a drink of cold water when you are thirsty. Every tastebud on your tongue, every molecule in your body, says thank you,” to borrow some lines from Leonard’s.

Inverness was the northernmost place that I visited in the entire travel. But my journey had not reached its farthest destination yet. It was the following day’s boat trip that made the ultimate fulfilment of my reason of coming there. I took a small coach from the bus station to reach the lakeside. And I went on with a Jacobite boat cruising Loch Ness until I finally landed again not far from the ruins of a castle named Urquhart. While on the boat, I climbed to its upper deck to feel the gentle spray on my face. What a liberating feeling, my friends! I yelled and sang aloud up there - for there was no one would be disturbed as long as the boat crew downstairs played traditional Scottish music on the stereo as loudly as possible. Well, I then visited the ruined castle and spent one hour there. With that I end my story from Inverness, for in the next couple of hours I was already in another city called Edinburgh.

Edinburgh

This capital of Scotland has a breathtakingly beautiful castle located in the city centre, atop a rock, which looked so majestic to me – especially at night when I arrived. If you walked around the Princes Street, you can sense how grand and important the charm of that castle is to the entire surroundings. And for that reason I sincerely wish that Najib, my friend from Edinburgh University, will one day manage to enter the castle and comprehend the marvel that I experienced at that time. In Najib’s house I stayed for the next two nights.

My intention of visiting Edinburgh was inspired mainly by the city’s history and fame in literary arts. A writers’ museum located not far from the Royal Miles is one of the places I longed to revisit – for once I saw and entered the place in 2005, and something written in the ceiling of that particular museum is memorable to me, and somehow I wanted to return there: “I travel for travel’s sake”.

In Edinburgh I also met a friend from Malaysia whose name is Aiyub, a fellow classmate who previously parted after the tour in Belfast. With his companion I went to several places including the Childhood Museum and the National Library of Scotland - where a book titled “The Tales of Beedle the Bard” - handwritten by J.K. Rowling was displayed in an exhibition. And then we also found a café nearby, called Black Medicine, in which J.K. Rowling wrote some of the early chapters of Harry Potter novels. Aiyub and I entered the building, and moisten our throats with a measure of “black medicine” – the coffee – prepared by the long-haired barista in black dress. We stayed there until the guy started to mount the chairs from our next table and therefore we understood that the coffee shop was about to close. The last thing I did before returning to Najib’s at that night was joining a ghost tour to the underground of the city. I listened with full curiosity to the storyteller when legends and horror tales were floated in the air. We walked into the vaults underneath the South Bridge, along the dark and damp small rooms lit by candles and ended the trail at an old cemetery located behind a church. With large tombstones and under the moonlight, hmm… my thought went to a ghost-buster TV serial in Indonesia: “Pemburu Hantu.” Haha!

Newcastle

In the following day, I continued my journey alone to my next destination, the fifth city: a city called Newcastle upon Tyne. It is an old city that, like London and Paris, began its history with a garrison or a settlement by a river – and in this case, by the Romans in about the second century AD. It was on the north bank of the River Tyne. The town has then developed into a port and major trading centre whose strategic value is the close distance to Scotland. Coal was the most important export of the city. The Tyneside people and the way they talk are often known as ‘Geordie’. Why this is so I cannot tell, except it was from my “private investigation” which I learned that some people believed the term “Geordie” is originated from the safety lamps used by the coal miners in the nineteenth century; and those lamps were designed by a person named George (Geordie, for short) Stephenson. Hmm…

Actually, I knew next to nothing about the city before I came. Mark Knopfler’s song “Sailing to Philadelphia” was perhaps the closest reference that made me familiar with the names and terms such as Durham, Northumberland, Geordie boy, and coaly Tyne. But when I set my foot on the city, I was deeply impressed by the view of River Tyne. And I was curious to learn more. I walked along one of the bridges that connect the two riversides, and I marvelled at the city before me. Later my curiosity took me to a grand sculpture made of steel called “The Angel of the North” – perhaps the largest angel sculpture in the world. Made by an artist named Antony Gormley, it was made from two hundred tonnes of steel. Thank to the favourable weather, I was able to take many pictures of the fantastic sculpture. Perhaps, like Robbie William sang, I was loving the Angel instead. :)

Leeds

Well, very early in the next morning, I was already on my way to Leeds. The bus arrived at the destination earlier than estimated, thus I had to wait for a couple of minutes before my friend named Piet arrived at the bus stop. From there we went to warm ourselves with a big breakfast near a marketplace called Sunday Market – or so Piet said. The kiosk was still closed when we got there. But we were determined to stay waiting until it opened, and when it did, ah, we rewarded ourselves with steaming hot cod fish and deep fried chipped potatoes, in short - fish and chips.

In Leeds I had no plan but to meet friends as many as possible. It was like my ‘social stop’. I was very pleased that besides I could restore my strength for the next journey, I also met with other Indonesian students there, namely Eko, Ai, Bambang, Arul and Budi with his wife Ester and son Dika. And in the second day of my stay, I went with some of them to the Royal Armouries where I saw collections of weapons from the Stone Age to recent days. It was a few hours before I met with two friends from Oxford, Rangga and Vishnu, who came to Leeds to participate in Indonesian students’ union meeting.

Manchester

I left the city in the next morning just when the said students meeting was about to begin. And my next stop was Manchester. The story of my visit there could be summed in two words: Old Trafford. Even though I came from Bandung city in Indonesia, and therefore I still have a heart for the local football team of my hometown, the Maung Bandung, I was nonetheless amazed when entering the Theatre of Dream and the rooms accessible only to the players and officials of the Manchester United on match days. There was also a guide who replayed a recorded sound of the roar of seventy six thousand fans, so that I know now what Ronaldo or Rooney feels when they emerge from the player’s tunnel onto the football field. :) And truly, during most of those stunning moments in the stadium my thought went to my futsal colleagues in Jakarta. I wish all of them can someday have a chance to come there too; especially you Gustaf - if you read this. :)

But seeing the Theatre of Dream was not my sole intention of coming to Manchester. I also hoped to meet a Pakistani-British author I once met in Jakarta. Her name is Qaisra Shahraz. Her novels have been translated into Indonesian language. And when one of them – the “Holy Woman” – was launched in Indonesia with the title of “Perempuan Suci”, I happened to be the ‘moderator’ of the event in Jakarta. However, Qaisra on that day was not in the city. Yet it was very kind of her to take time and phoned me not long after my arrival in Manchester.

My memory of Manchester would have been better had the hostel where I stayed in was more quiet during that night. Hardly could I sleep – not because another fire alarm or the chatters of the other four guests who shared the common room, but from the noises from the upstairs. Well, I tried to fix that with songs from my MP3 player.

On the next day, as my bus was departing rather late, I had the chance to walk the city in the morning. And I said yes when another guest of the hostel asked me to join for the walk. She is an art student from the Lowlands; and Marjolein is her lovely name. Later that day I reached my last destination of the entire trip: Birmingham.

Birmingham

Of all the good things that I remember about Birmingham, perhaps I will always have a warm memory of it as the home of Momo restaurant and the “much worshipped” holy bull. This is another city to which the purpose of my visit was mainly to meet friends. I was hosted at the house where Najam, Myrdal and his wife Ulfa live – plus Nandi as a bonus. I am still amazed by the lively atmosphere they created. We had a non-stop merry moment for the entire two days of my stay. And I am thankful to Najam for showing me around his university from where a friend of mine, Dinar, earned her degree in 2002.

And that was it, my friends. On the twenty third of December, two days before Christmas, I returned to Oxford. It is needless for me to describe much of this last voyage, except to say that it was the first time a delay occurred in my long itinerary of coach journeys. The bus station was crowded with passengers – mostly elderly, who perhaps were on their way for Christmas vacation. And many were confused and feared of missing the right bus, since we saw there were more than one buses with exactly the same route numbers, but they went to different directions. So it was like the phenomenon of ‘mudik’. :)

During this last trip I did not sleep – I looked outside of the window until I reached Oxford again, welcomed by a long traffic jam. The bus driver was a little bit confused with the road to enter the bus station and almost dropped all passengers at the train station instead…

Well, I think that’s the story of the entire trip. My note from the North. Pretty lengthy, eh? I just recall again now some words from a New Zealand legendary mountaineer and explorer, Sir Edmund Hillary, who once said, “If you set out for an adventure, and you're absolutely convinced you're going to be successful, why bother starting?” Well, in my adventure, I was not a hundred percent sure in the beginning that it would be an unmolested journey - but thanks God; I can finish what I have started satisfyingly. And now I am back in Wellington Square to fill the rest of my break, doing some works, alone or with some friends.

Before I stop this writing, I want to mention my sincere thankfulness to those who have been so kind in supporting me in various ways during the unforgettable travel. To my parents who always pray for my well-being; to the McFarlands, Nuh, Najib, Piet and the Birmingham’s Herons Ways cul-de-sac family - for their open-door atmosphere of hospitality; to Vishnu for taking my black suit back from Belfast to Oxford; to Fiona for the wonderful backpack – for without it, it would be impossible for me to number myself as a “real backpacker” :) ; to Melissa for the useful hints of Scotland; to Eko for introducing me to the Angel of the North; and lastly to Megabus - without whose service this trip would have been much more expensive to realise – and perhaps less adventurous.

Happy New Year!

the v of adfenture. :)

northumberland

2008-12-17T17:18:00.002+07:00

farewell scotland. today i will continue the trip to new castle upon tyne. the buss will depart in less than an hour.

before i go, i'd like to say that i was very delighted to be able to return to the writers' museum in edinburgh yesterday. i travel for travel's sake...
next time i will write more about the entire trip but now i must go.

caledonia

2008-12-13T18:03:00.003+07:00

it's six point seven degree celcius outside. cloudy saturday morning. makes me want to stay in the house a bit longer because the tea is so warm and comforting. but my time here is not too much. i need to prepare some meal before i continue my travel. well, in fact i just arrived from belfast last night. now i am in glasgow scotland. i come here to meet friends and simply to travel.

i may not roam the streets as much as i wanted to because of the weather. but the good thing is that i have more time to talk with people i meet in the house. i spend hours for discussion with friends. exchange our perspectives. learn new simple things in life which make me understand and appreciate whatever i previously did'nt really pay attention at.

he spoke of his family. his wife and children. and of how life has its' own will and we sometimes don't quite get what we want but if wee see in the long run there's other things we get and feel right for us.

well, this is my second time in glasgow. but this time i am not a lone wanderer. tomorrow i will pack my bag again, to hit the road up north to get to inverness. then i will again be accompanied only with my black jeans and pipin's backpack.

belfast revisited

2008-12-08T10:14:00.002+07:00

today is a special day. i mark it as one different from any other. it's a birthday of a friend. a day of ied kabir festivity. and also the day to start a new journey: "there and back again".

yes, my bag is packed. the shoes are cleaned. documents are set. i am ready to leave the town before sunrise this morning. to belfast northern ireland. with great friends.

frank delaney's novel, which i lost somewhere in london in november, has done its motivating work on me. i bought the book in bandung second hand shop months ago. but before i finished reading it, i think i left it somewhere in merdeka guest house when opening my bag. ah, really a loss to me. i wrote some notes on it. marked the nicest parts as well. and missed it. it's about ireland.

but well, maybe the book is being read by someone else now. who knows. maybe the reason i lost the book is to make me write my own, hohoo..!

apart from belfast the trip shall take me somewhere else too. i will need a lot of good wish for this journey. i don't plan the details. i pray and let myself go and see why i arrive there.

pipin

2008-12-05T07:51:00.005+07:00

have a safe long journey home dear friend.
your departure was quick, and came as a surprise, though i knew it wasn't the real end.
the news of your losing of a dearest one, was truly among the hardest to overcome.
when i walked home that night, i did not stop praying for you and your family. except when i had to receive calls from our friends who wanted to learn about your condition.
i wish you are blessed with strength to bear the calamity and great fortitude to move on mightily.
have a safe long journey dear friend.
until you return again, stay brave!

into the grey of winter

2008-11-30T22:44:00.005+07:00

at the latter part of the day, a small walk was done.

port meadow

2008-11-28T06:49:00.004+07:00

well, if i look at the way i finish my homeworks this week, i think i have most of the things i wanted to do done. the priorities, the secondaries, tertiaries and quaternaries... are all well arranged in time. leave the rest for another week. thanks to the planning. this weekend i may have time to take benny's offer of doing a short hike across the countryside.

visiting the trout sounds very tempting to me.

legend has it that the trout has the most delightful setting by the bridge with a large terrace looking out onto the river thames. to stroll up the port meadow in the late afternoon sun and have a picnic while nestling on the banks of the thames is going to be one of the most memorable things to do in oxford.

let's pray the sun will be on our side.

---

"she keeps some moet and chandon in her pretty cabinet...."

float

2008-11-26T08:54:00.006+07:00

i kinda need to dilute this idea out of my head with a lot of water. so i took a glass of cold water and drank it. but the idea is still there. as solid as it was before. i took another glass of water, this time warm. and drank it. but it's the same. the idea stays there. i wonder then, if idea is not dilutable in water like sugar usually is. even if they both sometimes taste similarly sweet.

come to where the flavor is

2008-11-21T06:31:00.005+07:00

this coming saturday will be asia pacific food festival day in corpus christi college. after a week full of intense assignments, here comes the fun part. all indonesian students in oxford are united to contribute to this delicious event. there are less than twenty of us but we will entertain at least two hundred portions of special dishes from our homeland.

many other asian students unions will participate too. our decision to penetrate the event came in the last moments. and so the competition for the menu started earlier as we must avoid cooking the same dish presented by other groups.

the supreme council of kitchen duchess already decided what our menu will be. the other crews will do their best to make sure their decision on nasi goreng bali (fried rice), dadar gulung (rolled coconut pancake), gado-gado (vegetable mix) and sate reign on saturday night.

ah, i can already smell the food in my mind...

the one that's coming next

2008-11-12T06:12:00.003+07:00

it is about the time for me to revisit southeast asia, at least in thought if not in physical form. i have always been carrying the idea since the day i depart, and it seems that the interest have formed a more recognizable shape nowadays. a shape that's not always present. but when it is, there is an appetite to make it closer to me. it's like a warm pillow you find next to you when you wake up in the morning. you know you can't take it all day with you, but it feels justified to hug it for the last few seconds before you go taking shower.

as to revisit southeast asia, if the decision is made, it will bring further consequences. it's like many other decisions we make, basically. but to revisit it, even if merely in thought, has two contradictory directions. one leads me to additional works of reading and preparation to write something - hopefully; and the other one takes me to a state of temporary peace - also hopefully. which one comes first doest really matter. they both are like two next stops from this point to get to southeast asia. ah, what a curious roadmap.

i find the situation is challenging. the clock is ticking. each second comes and goes whether you are aware of it or not. night is getting longer. but sleeping time is not. i pray that before weekend comes i already have a clue.

oi, oi, oi...

another kind of rain has just poured down

2008-11-10T06:52:00.007+07:00

heavy wind has caused this.
the blanket of green is now half yellowed.
by the falling leaves.

and here is another perspective of the park
right in front of the house where i reside:

"ah, look at that bench over there, what a perfect spot to have a picnic lunch isn't it?"

eclipse

2008-11-09T06:28:00.003+07:00

all that you touch
all that you see
all that you taste
all that you feel,

all that you love
all that you hate
all you distrust
all that you save,

all that you give
all that you deal
all that you buy
beg, borrow or steal,

all you create
all you destroy
all that you do
all that you say,

all that you eat
everyone you meet
all that you slight
everyone you fight,

all that is now
all that is gone
all that's to come
and everything under the sun is in tune,

but the sun is eclipsed by the moon...

---
"there's no dark side of the moon really. matter of fact it's all dark."

isis and iffley

2008-11-02T17:56:00.003+07:00

if you walk under the rain, it is easy to think for a bowl of hot noodle soup. hmm…

last saturday i walked alongside the river isis, from the floyds row in south oxford, downstream to the village of iffley. with ben and rangga. three of my countrymen trying to defeat the cold shower of november rain. no one carried any umbrella.

on our left hand side, the river. rowers from different colleges were seen practicing hard to get prepared for the next month's championship. all wet. on our right hand side, meadows. cows, horses, swans and empty fields with occasional bushes. the horses are bigger than those you see around ganeca street of bandung city.

we walked to reach the site of a very old water mill of iffley. built in the 11^th century, survived for eight hundred years of grounding malt, barley, corn and other cereals, the mill was burnt down in 1908.

at the end of our trek, we arrived at a lock next to a small chapel where the mill used to be located. it’s called mill lane, close to the site of the 12^th century norman parish church st mary the virgin.

i know that not everybody loves rain. but among those who love it will understand how it feels to smell the crisp air. the sound of raindrops, the dark misty sky, the chilly air and the good companies… the place has just some resemblances to an empty street i used to visit in lembang of west java. some pine trees would make it looked more similar.

niki, you would love to be here.

isis is the origin of thames river. if you follow the stream, it will eventually take you down south, there where you can find london town...

subscription day

2008-10-30T08:09:00.003+07:00

one by one, the essays are done. and one by one, the new ones will come. from the pages of international trade and finance - a subject which tries to convince you that capitalism will prevail; to international law with its never ending cases and chapters to memorize - believe me they want you to remember numbers of those years and articles when you can even hardly memorise your own mobile number; to the mountain high of politics where the ghosts of great philosophers reside and continue their debate; and finally to diplomatic practice classes where lessons from the able ambassadors unite.

it seems to take enourmous amount of hours for me to compose those sentences into a meaningful paragraph. let alone a page. but the lesson is perhaps there. like any labour that you are committed to do. if you stick to a labour long enough, it will eventually yield. even though long enough is probably way beyond any reasonable estimation of what long enough might be.

bubbles

2008-10-27T04:29:00.006+07:00

i shall write now of bubbles...

because i see lines of bubbles in the water which i poured into my glass, even though it was not the sparkling of the kind.
it was tap water.

so i think and observe that among them some are smaller, clustered; and others are bigger, scattered. like my mind. sometimes.

like yours too, perhaps. when you are lonelier than billy joel.

maybe, if i have a microscopic vision, plus some teaspoons of hallucination, i can see a tiny universe in each balloon that is trapped in there.

but i was just too thirsty to hallucinate.

some silent spring

2008-10-23T04:39:00.008+07:00

some silent spring
when everything is so quiet
only the piper down the field
can be heard,
we'll take the season
  at its word
i'll bring you willows
from the wood's edge
 we'll sit until
    quietly
waiting for the deer to come
into the clearing
for water.

only now and then
will we look skyward
to watch the wild geese
passing in formation overhead
a dozen skybound squadrons
returning north
going home
  beginning again
    starting all over.

and maybe we can start again
   ourselves.
maybe. with the help of spring.

wellington square park

2008-10-19T20:37:00.002+07:00

as often happen in the days of our life, time goes in a speed that somehow seems too fast leaving no moment for us to reconcile with it.

however there are but some few captured moments, which we reflect as our most memorable impression of such times.

now, the town is in the embrace of the autumn. the season squeezes it tightly, letting all the possible colours to come out in forms of falling leaves, decorating the streets sophisticatedly.

soon, winter will unveil its truest face, and the wind and the rain will cover much of the darkest days of this shire.

but the rejoice of our hearts, with the companion of the light-hearted friends, free thinkers of all over the land and various continents, and the warmth of our long black gowns, surely, all will be more bearable.

as it was told, it has been so for hundreds of years. and it will be the same again this time: six years since the day of the first snow.

and i feel, to borrow a quote from dylan, as if i was so much older then, six years ago, and that i’m younger than that now.

memory

2008-10-11T05:02:00.005+07:00

many of the things they practice today here in england, and here in oxford more specifically, are based on tradition.

they conserve their way of doing things very rigoriously. and this kind of routine is not regulated by law. it is just a rule of the game that everyone must follow. from one generation to the next they pass the tradition steadily. and everyone i know is quite happy to embark this way of tradition willingly.

if one asks the logic explanation for, say, why should we wear dark suit, plain-white shirt, white bow tie, black shoes and black gown for matriculation, the answer is of course because they have been doing it for hundreds of years. so why change now? they said.

hmm...

now, imagine a professor saying this to you:

"please try to be on time, because the dinner has never been late for four hundred years."

and this is a sample picture of how the dinner table looks like. i took this picture in one of the oldest college, called "new college", dated back from around the 13th century.

to the four corners of the earth

2008-10-05T16:01:00.006+07:00

this picture was taken somewhere on the road from london to oxford, last friday. now i am on my fourth day here in oxfordshire, the region in england where oxford is located. matthew arnold, a poet from the 19th century, beautifully described oxford in his poem thyrsis as a sweet city of dreaming spires, one that needs not june for its beauty's heightening.

i spent my first days wandering around the old town and trying to provide myself a proper basic knowledge for survival.

i am grateful and humbled to be here, especially that it is autumn. you can walk the road and feel that crispness in the air and the smell of fall. also, i always find the falling leaves scattered around my window pane each time i return to my room. that is a true sign of nature's cycle of course.

the place where i reside now is a victorian house. i occupy half of its lower ground. so low that when you sit on the chair looking at the window, you could see only the legs of the passerby. not their faces. it's more as a sanctuary, especially because phone signal can hardly touch me down here. hohoo...

but i am content. you see this house now. well, it's not exactly the one where i live. but i like it. it has a red dress to fit the season's fashion. in autumn, it is quite fashionable for houses to "wear" that maroon gown. soon, it will turn yellow, before the fresh of green come again together with spring.

i name this picture "call me autumn".

as of the place where i live, it is a hall provided by my college st. cross. i have already had some ideas to explore about this college. but first, let me share with you that i feel at home here. the college has a motto that goes like this "ad quattour cardines mundi", which means "to the four corners of the earth". sounds adventurous to me. hoho...