Santorini | 3. Those Who Leave Traces

May 31, 2012 By 25 Comments

In the end, it is not about the city, nor the streets. It is also not about those picturesque hills or beaches or mountains. And it is not about the local food or delicacies, traditional dances or performances. It is definitely not about the tourist attraction, nor the hidden exotic spots. And, surprisingly, it is not even about the photographs you have taken, no matter how wonderful they turned out to be.

It is always—always, about the people you meet along the way.

From my previous travelling journeys, I realized that the places I cherish the most are places with names and faces; places where stories and dreams are being shared with someone you have just met for the very first time; places where you arrive as a stranger and depart as a dear friend. It is that connection that matters. It is that warm feeling of friendship that lingers—even long after the post-journey excitement fades away. It is that kind of feeling that stays with me after I got back from visiting Karachi, Pakistan, June last year; and it is also that kind of feeling that remains as I was sitting on the plane, leaving Santorini behind.

It is about G, and our casual talk at the reception area.

About how he introduced me to his friends and showed me the best spots in town to eat, hang out, or take beautiful pictures. About how he wanted me to bring a bottle of his family’s wine back home. About how he gave me his phone number and said, “Anytime you need anything, just call. I’m available 24 hours.”

It is about AD who greeted me every morning just because I always walked past his place on my way to the bus station. It is about our small talk every day when he asked me where I would go that day and what I had seen yesterday before giving me that pleasant smile and shouted, “Have a nice day!”—while waving his hands cheerily.

It is about AP who came to my table when I dine at his place. About how he thanked me for coming and told me stories about how he went fishing in the morning and caught the now-grilled sea bass I was eating. About how he told me that the baklava I ordered for dessert was a treat from him.

It is about MS who welcomed me at his tavern and said that he remembered me (“You’re staying at G’s place!”) and sent a free Vinsanto wine to my table when I finished my meal.

It is about F who was watering his plants when I passed by his house. About how he asked, “Hello, everything’s alright?” because he thought I was lost. It is about how we chatted after I told him that I was not lost; I was just wandering around the alleyways to take pictures of people’s fences, doors, and windows.

It is about MA who shouted, “Apa kabar?” whenever I passed by her little shop after she learnt that I am from Indonesia.

It is about O, a friend of G, who gave me a crash course in Greek.

It is about the guy at the bookshop who pulled out a wooden puppet from somewhere and asked me, “Do you know Karagkiozis?”—and when I shook my head, he said that Karagkiozis is a kind of shadow play from Greece.

About how you can move the wooden puppet by pulling on the strings attached to it. “It is played behind a white screen, so people only see the shadows,” he explained, before slipping the wooden puppet into my shopping bag and said, “This is for you. A gift from Santorini!”

In the end, it is all about the people. It is always about the people.

They are the ones who make your journey memorable. They are ones who teach you something new, who enable you to see the world from a different perspective, who send subtle messages that somehow feel relevant to your life. They are the ones who shape the faces of your journeys. They stay with you throughout, because somehow—no matter how brief their kindness had brushed up on you, they have left a part of themselves in you. And whether you realize it or not, you have also left a part of yourself in them.

And that’s exactly why, no matter where you are, whether you’re heading out on a new journey or simply going back from one, you will always feel at home.

____

Previously in this series:

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Santorini | 2. The Road Less Travelled

May 29, 2012 By 62 Comments

When travelling alone, I am the kind of person who will be spending as much time to do things I am interested in, in places I am most attracted to. It is never about the number of places I have visited or photographed, and it is definitely not about walking around with a tourist map in hand, check-marking the sites flagged as “must-seen” by others.


Travelling alone is about a journey that is taking place inside of me. It is about waking up very early or very late. About enjoying or skipping breakfast. About wandering aimlessly or looking for a particular spot. About sitting in one small patisserie—reading poetry books for 2.5 hours straight or fluttering from one art shop to another in 15 minutes. About coming back to the hotel before dark and writing in my room or going out after midnight to take a peek at the bars or having a very late dinner. It is about what I feel like doing. It is about slowing down and taking a deep breath. About stopping and being still. About following where your heart is taking you. About not being in a rush.

Santorini is the perfect place to do just that. Nobody is scurrying or honking or yelling or cutting in line. It is like seeing the world moving in slow motion, and it is such a wonderful scene to watch. You can see how people move their hands. The way the wind ruffles somebody’s skirt. The color of someone’s eyes. The freshness of the tomatoes on your salad bowl. The shapes of doors and fences and rooftops. The sound of a lizard moving lazily on the gravel path. This is a small island where everybody knows everybody. Where one is always somebody else’s childhood friend. Where people actually go to the beach or to the hills by bringing along their canvas and paints or guitar; then spend hours there, painting or strumming—just like in the movies. Where the streets and shortcuts and alleyways become amazingly familiar to you in just a day or two (“It’s really difficult to get lost here, trust me,” said G—the owner of the hotel where I stayed, when I told him that I have a very poor sense of direction. He was right).

On my first day, I tried my luck (and courage) in taking the shortcut from the hotel to the city center. Instead of following the main road, I climbed the alleyways behind the mini market, walked past people’s homes and establishments, took pictures of everything beautiful while trying to avoid stepping on the fresh donkey manures. I did well. I went out (somehow) at the right alley, just before the bus station at Fira’s city center. From that day on, I got all the courage in the world to take shortcuts and alleyways to some small villages nearby, never once got lost.

Later that day, having seen the photographs, G was surprised knowing that I had snapped a picture of his family’s old cave house. “How did you find it? It is hidden from the street…!” (well, I did take the road less travelled!). G’s father and grandfather was raised in this cave house, a traditional house—built deep into the rock face—of the locals in Santorini. At the moment, most cave houses have been sold or leased as hotels/villas.

“The cave house is empty now, and we’re planning to sell it as well,” said G.

“Must be hard to let go of such a precious family possession. It holds the family’s history,” I replied, reminded of a friend of mine who had recently sold her family’s old house.

G just shot an ‘it-is-OK’ smile.

I wandered around Fira’s city center that afternoon. The sun was shining brightly, but the wind was blowing hard and cold—enveloping me in the fresh and salty scent of the Aegean sea. Wrapped in my pink cardigan, I climbed up past the little shops selling local delicacies; Vinsanto wine and olive oil in pretty bottles, to the stretch overlooking the caldera.

{Note: The present-day crescent shape of Santorini island is essentially what remains of an enormous volcanic explosion some 3,600 years ago. This created the current geological caldera; a giant central lagoon, more or less rectangular, and measuring about 12 by 7 km, surrounded by 300 m high steep cliffs on three sides.}

I just sat there for I didn’t know how long; mesmerized by the stunning view and the fact that I was actually here, standing right in the middle of my fairy tale. How far can a dream take you? I would say, far. Really far.

———-

On these series:

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Santorini | 1. The Art of Travelling Alone

May 28, 2012 By 488 Comments

Started in 2007, at least once a year, I travel alone. It doesn’t really matter how far or how close the destination is. The idea is simply to go to a foreign place, a place where you know no one, alone. It’s not that I dislike travelling with friends. I do enjoy spending summer with my best friends: shopping and partying with the girls and going poetically mellow in a remote village with the boys. But travelling alone gives a different kind of pleasure. It’s more of a journey to know who you really are, better.

Travelling alone gives you a lot of time to spend with yourself, to do things as you wish, to see things that you want, to spend more or less time in places that you find most or least interesting, to say yes or no to a stranger’s invitation for a drink without having to consult anyone, to spend your time doing nothing—or anything, for that matter. To me, it’s an opportunity to wander around, to daydream, to write, to read, to draw, to take pictures, and most importantly: to think.

The most interesting part is, when travelling alone, you have no one to accompany you but yourself. It’s a great test to see how much you like being in your own company. Do you see yourself as a good friend; someone you can feel comfortable with, or someone you can’t stand? Do you see yourself as someone you can count on to? Will yourself disappoint or fulfill you? Can you make peace with your own thoughts, worries, fears, dreams, passions?

Travelling alone also teaches you in a humble way. It makes you see things with lovingness. Deep down inside, you realize that if things go wrong somehow, you can only rely upon the kindness of fellow strangers or locals you meet along the way. This makes you see everyone around you as a good friend. You feel happy and generous in offering directions to someone who seems lost, helping those who carry a lot of stuff while trying to lift their luggage to the pavement, cleaning the table once you’ve finished eating, or running—chasing for a baby hat that’s being blown away by the wind. A pleasant smile, a short stop to chat about the places you’ve been yesterday and places you’re about to go today, a polite nod with a hello, an exchange of good-mornings, a waving of the hand, a simple thank-you note after a great meal, a farewell card, a bottle of wine as a friendly gift.

This year, I went to Santorini in Kikhlades, Greece, alone. I’ve been reading Greek mythology books since I was in elementary school, and have always been interested in the country—but Santorini drew me in when I saw it for the first time on TV and postcards as a teenager. The picturesque island looked like a distant dream, a place hidden somewhere inside a fairy tale. However, I always believe that everything—no matter how small, no matter how big, starts with the courage to dream. And until today, there’s always a place for fairy tale in this world. When you’re patient enough to hold on to it, you can have your own, too.

Just. Don’t. Let. Go.

————–

On these series:

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Santorini (Prologue) | 0. The City

May 22, 2012 By 13 Comments

This afternoon, I picked up a book at a lovely bookstore hidden in the midst of Oia’s endless gravel path. It was a poetry book called “A Greek Quintet”, an anthology of poems by Cavafy, Sikelianos, Seferis, Elytis and Gatsos. A few hours later, I found myself stranded in a small patisserie overlooking the Aegean sea, enjoying a huge cup of pistachio ice cream and the fruity-sweet Vinsanto wine. I flipped open several first few pages of the poetry book, and my eyes landed instantly on The City. If you do believe that there’s no such thing as coincidence in life, then I’d like to share this poem with you.

The City by Cavafy

You said: “I’ll go to another country, go to another shore,
find another city better than this one.
Whatever I try to do is fated to turn out wrong
and my heart lies buried as though it were something dead.
How long can I let my mind moulder in this place?
Wherever I turn, wherever I happen to look,
I see the black ruins of my life, here,
where I’ve spent so many years, wasted them, destroyed
them totally.”

You won’t find a new country, won’t find another shore.
This city will always pursue you. You will walk
the same streets, grow old in the same neighbourhoods,
will turn grey in these same houses.
You will always end up in this city. Don’t hope for things
elsewhere;
there is no ship for you, there is no road.
As you’ve wasted your life here, in this small corner,
you’ve destroyed it everywhere else in the world.

No matter how far one goes (or runs away for that matter), one will always meet oneself again and again and again and again.

αγάπη, H.

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Hong Kong in Black & White

March 13, 2012 By 13 Comments

I always love Hong Kong—either for strolling around, shopping, writing and sketching, taking pictures, or simply lazying in an open-air coffee shop, reading a good book—the city never fails me. The people, the weather, the smell of seafood grilled over charcoal, the bustling sound of the crossings, the tramways, the light bulbs… somehow all feels magical and romantic. The city represents everything that’s new and everything that’s old: like the past, present and future, merged into one. It’s also for these reasons Hong Kong came up to be a city with great significance in my book #28Days. This is how Hong Kong looks like from the eyes of the girl character in the book:

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Ambon, Molucca Archipelago

January 31, 2012 By 13 Comments

Indeed, the eastern part of Indonesia is breathtakingly beautiful! I have always wanted to visit the faraway Molucca Archipelago—well-known for its wonderful beaches and magical underwater views; one of the best site for diving in the world, according to my diver friends.

And I was lucky for being able to set foot there!

From the city center of Ambon or from the Pattimura Airport, it took only 30-45 minutes by car to reach this magical Natsepa Beach.

After paying an entrance fee of IDR 2,000 (or around US$ 0.2), you can enjoy the stretch of white sand and the seductive view of the faraway hills. The sea is calm and the water is clean, very ideal for bathing and swimming. Trees are growing along the beach, perfect for a shelter from the sun!

Ambon had suffered from ethno-religious clashes—the worst took place in 1999 (until recently, some countries are still issuing travel warnings for their citizens who’d like to travel to this part of Indonesia). Since then, several parties have been trying to shake the city’s peacefulness. However, the youths in Ambon won’t let it happen. Consisting of youths from different social classes, religions and backgrounds, they are trying to promote tolerance and respect through a peaceful movement, Badati Ambon.

When you’re visiting Natsepa Beach in Ambon, you have to try the famous Rujak Natsepa. There are tents along the front of the beach, with local women behind a stack of fresh fruits, selling traditional fruit salad called ‘rujak’–a suitable treat after a sunny day at the beach.

Rujak Natsepa is made of a mixture of tropical fruits: pineapple, mango, starfruit, papaya, rose apple (water guava), bangkuang (jicama/mexican turnip), and cucumber. These sliced fruits are then mixed with a paste of peanuts and brown sugar; you can choose whether you’d like to add some chili into it or not. For a plate of fresh and fruity Rujak Natsepa, you need to pay around IDR 10,000 or US$ 1.

And sipping fresh coconut afterwards? :)

Early in the morning, you can also walk around the traditional street-market and find fresh vegetables/spices, as well as fresh/salted fish! Ambon is a heaven for seafood lovers! :)

Let’s go exploring more beautiful places in the eastern part of the country! (As for the travel warning, the only warning I’d like to give you is: you wouldn’t want to go home after this).

————–

*) special thanks to Almascatie and friends from Badati Ambon for the hospitality :)

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Gili Trawangan, Lombok.

January 25, 2012 By 12 Comments

Going there.

It takes you 1.5 – 2 hours by car from Lombok International Airport to reach Bangsal port—where wooden boats are lining up, ready to transport you to Gili Trawangan. For the car-ride, you can choose between two routes: either passing the monkey forest or Senggigi beach. If you’re in a hurry to catch a boat to Gili Islands, you better choose the monkey forest route as it will save you more time (and you can take pictures of the monkeys along the way!).

Bangsal Port in Lombok.

Every half an hour, there will be a boat leaving from Bangsal port to Gili Trawangan. You can buy a ticket for IDR 10,000 (or around US$ 1.2). The boat will carry tourists, locals, as well as bicycles and vegetables. In around 20 – 30 minutes, you’ll reach Gili Trawangan.

The boat that will take you to Gili Trawangan.

Gili Trawangan

Gili Trawangan is one of three islands in Gili, the two others are Gili Air and Gili Meno. If you prefer to have a more secluded atmosphere during your stay, Gili Air and Gili Meno will be a better option. Gili Trawangan is relatively more lively, with rows of cafes, restaurants and bars, that open for 24/7.

Gili Trawangan. The village is hidden behind the lush canopy of green.

Gili Trawangan is a small island. You can go around the island for 2-3 hours by bike. Cidomo is how the locals call their most ‘lavish’ mode of transportation: horse cart/wagon. Usually it will cost you IDR 50,000,- per trip (US$ 5). Apart from horse cart, you can either rent a bike for a day, or simply walk around. There’s no car or motorcycle in Gili Trawangan. The air is definitely not being polluted by motor vehicles’ exhausts, but you just need to get yourself used to the smell of horse’s feces :D

Cidomo, or the horse cart.

The village

If you don’t mind to get your feet soaked in mud, walking around the village early in the morning can be a bliss. Just watch your step and be mindful to the sound of cidomo approaching from in front/behind you, then step aside. The people in the village are very polite and friendly; you won’t get a stare/impolite comments though you’re a girl strolling around by yourself. If you smile, they’ll nod and smile back.

Here are some of the gorgeous views I captured during my morning walk:

The chickens.

The pretty horse. Disney-like, don't you think?

This is the way people transport goods around the island.

The droplets left by the morning rain.

There are no police officers in Gili Trawangan. According to the Cidomo driver, having police officers around make people think that the island is not safe. Usually, the locals will catch the robbers/pickpockets by themselves, beat them up to teach them a lesson, and then they will be humiliated by being ‘paraded’ all around the island. Does this kind of law-enforcement work? Probably so. My friend lost her wallet in the afternoon, and later in the evening, a Cidomo driver actually returned the wallet back to the hotel where we stayed.

The restaurants.

Along the beach, you can find stretch of restaurants, cafes, and bars.

If you’re into organic and healthy food, you can stop by at Egoiste; and if you’d like to enjoy the best grilled seafood in Gili Trawangan, drop by at Scallywags after 6 pm, and pick your own lobsters/fishes (the restaurant is open since early morning, but the grilled menu will only be served after 6)!

The view from Scallywags. How lovely!

Storm beer: an organic beer brewed in Bali, served at Scallywags

Fresh lobster at Scallywags, ready to be grilled.

All the fish is caught in local waters, using environmentally friendly methods.

Before sunset at Scallywags.

Free salad bar at Scallywags.

Don’t forget to enjoy the famous Gili Gelato for dessert afterwards; you can find their ice-cream counter along this stretch.

If you’re into psychedelic experience (unfortunately, I got high only by looking at the ocean!), magic mushroom (Psilocybin) is sold free in small shops/marts. A bottle of ‘mushroom juice’ (the size of small mineral water bottle) is sold for IDR 200,000 (US$ 23). In bars and restaurants, they are also offering marijuana quite freely, especially to foreign tourists.

Magic mushroom.

The Internet connection

Should you need to connect the Internet, there are lots of cafes/restaurants with free wi-fi access. But I should remind you: it won’t really work. If you really need a relatively reliable connection, go to the Internet cafes. You rent a computer and the Internet connection for around IDR 24,000 per hour (US$ 2.8).

The beach

What can I say? This is one of the reasons why people come to visit Gili Trawangan at the first place :) Should you like to dive, go visit Trawangan Dive (find Graham if he’s around)—and they’ll help you with everything: from planning your diving trip to preparing all the equipments needed.

The glass-bottom boat.

Lovely afternoon by the beach.

The boat.

The mist came down in the afternoon.

Just perfect for swimming and sunbathing.

Boats in different colors and shapes.

OK, seriously, I want to go back! :)

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Triwindu Antique Market, Solo.

December 30, 2011 By 4 Comments

Stretched along Bengawan Solo—one of the longest river in Java, and guarded by some volcanoes: Mt. Merapi, Mt. Merbabu and Mt. Lawu, Solo is a tranquil city of Javanese culture and tradition. There’s a certain ‘ancient’ atmosphere that will captivate you instantly: a certain feeling of going back in time; especially as you get closer to the palaces or keraton—the sound of gamelan music wafting faintly from somewhere, batik cloths hanging from the drying rope.

If you love strolling around antique markets, just like me (pretending you’re living in a different century, spotting all those beautiful objects back from the day your mother or grandmother hasn’t been born and making up stories about the imaginary people who used to own those vintage-whatchamacallit as you go along), Solo would definitely charmed you with its Triwindu Antique Market.

Here are some pictures to please your eyes:

Click here for more:

Happy holiday! Wish you all a blessed and wonderful New Year!

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Quisiera Que Estuvieras Aquí – 5. Lisboa

December 20, 2011 By 5 Comments

I have found that the hour of separation does not prevail against the joining of our unearthly selves, as I have known with the first meeting that my spirit was your companion for countless ages | Kahlil Gibran

Lisboa seperti kamu: yang mengejutkan pagiku dengan hal-hal lucu. Kota ini, seperti kamu, juga menyimpan ketertarikan pada seni dan sejarah. Kubayangkan kamu (tepatnya: kita) berkeliling kota dengan kamera di tangan, menyusuri jalan-jalan dan monumen bersejarah mulai dari Avenida de Liberdade  sampai Avenida Almirante Reis: mengabadikan arsitektur-arsitektur Romanesque, Gothic, Manueline, Baroque, juga konstruksi-konstruksi Modern dan Post-Modern yang nampak terlalu terang di bawah terik matahari.

Di bawah Jembatan 25 de Abril yang menghubungkan Lisboa dan Almada, aku akan berkata bahwa jembatan ini mengingatkanku pada gambar-gambar kartu pos dari San Fransisco, dan kamu akan memberitahuku bahwa jembatan ini dibangun oleh American Bridge Company, perusahaan yang sama yang mengkonstruksi Jembatan San Fransisco-Oakland Bay. “Hingga tahun 1974, jembatan ini masih dinamakan Jembatan Salazar atau Ponte Salazar,” kamu akan menambahkan, menunjukkan bahwa kamu sudah melakukan risetmu.

Pada akhirnya, mungkin kamu masih akan terus memilih untuk memotret dan mencatat di notes kecilmu seharian. Sementara aku akan memilih untuk berteduh di sebuah restoran kecil, memotret botol-botol minyak zaitun seraya membaca buku atau menulis surat-surat untukmu (ya, benar, surat-surat itu; surat-surat yang tak pernah kukirimkan).

Kita tak perlu bersama sepanjang waktu. Di akhir hari, pada saatnya, kita toh akan saling mencari dan menemukan: mungkin dalam sepiring salmon yang dibakar, atau di antara helai-helai parutan wortel berwarna oranye segar.

Selepas makan siang, aku berlari-lari menghindari panas matahari dan mendaki menuju Feira da Ladra atau “Thieve’s Market”, pasar loak di Sao Vicente de Fora, dekat Alfama, tak jauh dari the National Pantheon, Gereja Santa Engracia.

Pasar ini buka setiap Selasa dan Sabtu, dari subuh hingga matahari terbenam. Orang-orang menggelar dagangan mereka di atas koper-koper tua, meja-meja kecil, di atas tikar, juga di dalam mobil: asesoris kuno, CD-CD lama, buku-buku antik, baju, sepatu, lukisan, keramik… ah, kamu akan suka pemandangan ini!


Di sinilah aku bertemu anak lelaki kecil itu; yang tengah menemani ibunya berjualan lukisan-lukisan di atas keramik. Ia sendiri tengah melukis. Tangannya mengoleskan kuas di atas lembaran sebuah buku sketsa. Ia tersenyum lebar ketika melihatku berjongkok memilih-milih keramik. Dengan tangannya, ia menunjuk kamera yang tergantung di leherku, menunjuk dirinya sendiri, kemudian menirukan gaya orang memotret.

“Me? Taking pictures of you?” saya bertanya sambil membalas senyum lebarnya.

Ia mengangguk, lalu melihat ke arah kamera dengan percaya diri: matanya besar dan berbinar-binar.

Ia mengingatkanku padamu: seseorang yang meruntuhkan dinding di sekelilingnya, kemudian mengejutkanku dengan segala sesuatu yang tiba-tiba. Seperti pertanyaan-pertanyaanmu yang tak bisa diduga arahnya, seakan kita sudah pernah saling mengenal jauh sebelumnya, seperti teman lama: seakan-akan kita memang bukan dua orang yang baru pertama kali ini bertemu muka. Tetapi begitulah, ada kejutan dan keramahan itu, juga sedikit kepolosan dan ketidakpedulian pada diri anak lelaki itu—yang membuatku teringat padamu.

Tiba-tiba aku rindu saat-saat terakhir kita bersama itu…

Aku mengingatnya seperti aroma gula, mentega, dan kayu manis yang menguar dari Pasteis de Belem (ah, dan kamu juga selalu suka pastries semacam ini)—manis, hangat, lekat.

Angin sore meniup rambutku ketika aku berjalan melewati lift Santa Justa di Chiado, sebelah tenggara Praca Dom Pedro IV Square, yang dibangun arsitek Perancis kelahiran Portugal, Raoul de Mesnier du Ponsard—murid Gustave Eiffel (tak heran kalau struktur bangunan ini mirip dengan Menara Eiffel). Kalau saja kamu ada di sini, kita akan naik ke atas sana, ke restoran Italia di puncaknya, Bella Lisa Elevador—menyesap secangkir kopi pelan-pelan sambil mengabadikan pemandangan indah itu: Rossio Square, kastil, sungai…

dan kamu.

Quisiera que estuvieras aquí,

H.

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Quisiera Que Estuvieras Aquí – 4. Lagos

December 13, 2011 By 9 Comments

Aku jatuh cinta pada Lagos, kota pantai kecil di mulut Sungai Bensafrim—membentang sepanjang Lautan Atlantik di Algarve, Portugal Selatan.

Dari terminal bis, aku sudah bisa melihat jembatan yang membentang menuju pantai, serta jalan menanjak ke perbukitan, tempat rumah-rumah musim panas dengan dinding-dinding putih dipenuhi wisatawan selama musim liburan. Aku jatuh cinta pada warna-warni terang di jalan-jalan yang kulewati: spanduk, lapak-lapak penjual baju, atap-atap rumah, jemuran, juga langit yang berawan.

Lagos adalah kota yang lucu. Kamu bisa mengitarinya berkali-kali dan selalu menemukan sesuatu yang baru: restoran, toko es krim, penjual sepatu, juga seorang ibu yang membuatkanku tato ‘Om’ di pergelangan kaki dengan henna.

“Are you a Buddhist?” tanyanya.
Aku menggeleng, “I just like it,” jawabku sambil tersenyum.
“Where are you from?”
“Indonesia,” jawabku.

Ia nampak terkejut, kemudian ia mengisahkan perjalanannya semasa muda dulu: betapa ia dan suaminya sudah mengelilingi pantai-pantai di Indonesia dan menyelam di sana. Bali, Lombok, Bunaken, Flores. “Itu dulu sekali,” katanya. “Indonesia sangat indah. Saya ingin kembali, tetapi sekarang mungkin harga tiket sudah mahal. Saya juga sempat mendengar kerusuhan di sana, semoga Indonesia sudah damai, ya.”

Ini adalah kota yang ingin kutinggali selama beberapa bulan. Aku akan pergi ke pusat kota, berbelanja buah dan sayur, mengunjungi toko buku. Ini adalah kota di mana aku bisa membeli es krim di toko kecil, lalu duduk di taman, di bawah pohon, di depan air mancur, pemandangan laut di sisi kananku; sambil membaca The Wind-Up Bird Chronicle-nya Murakami.

Ini adalah kota di mana penjaga toko yang sempat melihatmu kemarin akan tersenyum, dan pengemudi taksi yang sempat mengantarmu tadi pagi melambai dan berseru padamu dari depan alun-alun. Ini adalah kota di mana orang-orang tidak berbicara bahasa Inggris, tetapi mereka bercakap dengan mata, tangan, juga bibir yang bergerak naik membentuk lengkungan menyenangkan. Ini adalah kota di mana aku bisa pergi ke benteng-benteng tua setelah selesai membaca, duduk di taman yang teduh, memandangi burung-burung laut yang sesekali turun dan menulis di sana sampai jenuh.

Untuk menghilangkan penat setelah mengitari kota seharian, aku bisa berlari ke pantai dengan kaki telanjang, lalu menceburkan diri di air yang dingin.

Menjelang pukul delapan malam, aku akan kembali ke rumah musim panas di atas bukit, memandangi senja yang turun, lalu bercakap denganmu lewat tombol-tombol telepon genggamku.

Quisiera que estuvieras aqui,

H

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Quisiera Que Estuvieras Aquí – 3. Jerez

December 6, 2011 By 5 Comments

Melangkah keluar dari terminal bis di Jerez, aku merasa seperti berada di dalam komik Lucky Luke. Kota ini seperti mati. Begitu sepi, begitu kering. Tak ada orang di sekitar. Debu-debu beterbangan dibawa angin, terkadang segerumbul semak kering menggelinding di jalanan. Aku menyusuri kota kecil di Cadiz ini untuk mencari kebun-kebun anggur: bodega. Sejak dulu, Jerez telah menjadi pusat industri anggur, dengan ekspor sherry ke seluruh dunia.

Jalan-jalan yang sepi membuatku melompat masuk ke dalam taksi. “Toko-toko yang buka… tempat banyak orang-orang…” dan pengemudi taksi itu mengatakan, “Central!”. Maka meluncurlah kami ke bagian pusat kota. Sepanjang jalan, toko-toko tutup dan berdebu. Di ‘pusat kota’ terdapat sekitar tiga buah restoran yang buka. Maka aku mampir di sana untuk menyantap paella, sambil memperlihatkan peta kepada pelayan di sana. Di mana saja bodega yang buka pada jam-jam ini?

Pelayan itu melingkari bodega-bodega di petaku dengan pena. Maka sehabis makan siang, aku berjalan meninggalkan pusat kota, melewati komidi putar yang cantik dan tak berkelip, juga patung pejuang di alun-alun yang sendirian. Semuanya begitu sepi, begitu hening. Bodega pertama yang terdekat dan dilingkari pena adalah sebuah rumah tua seperti kastil, dengan halaman yang dipenuhi ilalang dan rumput-rumput tinggi. Pintu gerbang besarnya (yang mengingatkanku pada adegan-adegan telenovela), terkunci dan dirantai. Mungkin bodega ini sudah lama bangkrut.

Menyusuri jalan-jalan yang tetap sepi, sandal jepitku putus sebelah. Dan Jerez adalah kota di mana tak peduli berapa banyak uang yang kau punya—meski kau mampu membeli sandal jepit Burberry, kau tidak bisa menemukan toko yang buka dan menjual sandal jepit pada pukul tiga sore. Aku mencoba melangkah dengan telanjang kaki di jalan yang bersih, tetapi panasnya matahari membuatku berlompatan di atas aspal. Akhirnya sandal jepit itu diikat ke kakiku. Begitulah. Jika ada hal-hal di dunia ini yang tak bisa dibeli dengan uang, salah satunya adalah: sandal jepit di Jerez.

Untungnya tak jauh dari sana, ada sebuah bodega dengan gerbang terbuka: Bodega Tio Pepe. Dengan kereta merah lucu, aku dan rombongan wisatawan, juga sepasang kekasih (yang pria punya wajah mirip Yesus), mengitari bodega itu—yang dipenuhi pucuk-pucuk anggur.

Aku ingin menunjukkan pola-pola cahaya ini padamu: permainan dari atap rambatan anggur dan sinar matahari yang meninggalkan lingkaran-lingkaran indah di dinding. Kamu bilang, “Berikan aku foto-foto!”

Jadi aku ingin menunjukkan padamu botol-botol dengan desain yang lucu ini,

satu tong anggur yang khusus dibuat untuk Jose Saramago, salah satu pengarang favoritku,

lapisan jamur yang mengubah jus anggur menjadi minuman beralkohol,

juga tangga dan gelas kecil ini. Bodega Tio Pepe juga terkenal dengan keluarga tikus yang tinggal di salah satu sudut ruang penyimpanan anggur mereka. Tikus-tikus ini dulu menjilati tetesan anggur yang tumpah dari tong. Dan sampai kini, keluarga Happy Mice masih berdiam di Tio Pepe. Sesekali mereka muncul untuk naik tangga dan minum anggur, juga menyantap keju atau biskuit yang ditinggalkan di tengah ruangan.

Cheers!

Quisiera que estuvieras aquí,

H

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Quisiera Que Estuvieras Aquí – 2. Sevilla

November 30, 2011 By 8 Comments

We build a bridge of hope from memories. It stretches from here to there—connecting you and me, the structure’s as still as our faith.

Ada beberapa jembatan di Sevilla, yang dibangun menjelang La Seville de la Exposición Universal de 1992. Yang paling terkenal di antaranya adalah Quinto Centenario (mereka bilang banyak kecelakaan yang terjadi di sini), juga jembatan Barqueta dan Alamillo—yang dirancang oleh arsitek kenamaan, Santiago Calatrava. Jembatan-jembatan itu mengingatkanku pada jarak di antara kita. Jarak yang terentang di antara dua hati. Mereka memberikan harapan—jembatan-jembatan itu, seperti mengatakan bahwa jarak selalu bisa diseberangi.

“Sevilla, good! Good! Dance! Flamenco! Very good! Barcelona, flamenco, not good!” kata Salvador bersemangat. Dengan bahasa Inggris yang patah-patah, Salva—demikian ia biasa dipanggil, memperagakan tarian flamenco di atas trotoar yang ramai sebelum menutup pintu taksinya.

Tetapi aku tidak menonton flamenco selama berada di Sevilla, juga tidak mengunjungi Plaza de Toros yang terkenal itu (kamu tahu, kan, aku tak terlalu suka membayangkan ratusan banteng yang sudah mati di arena di dalam sana itu, dalam sebuah pertarungan yang menurutku tak seimbang). Aku menghabiskan dua hari di Sevilla untuk pergi ke kebun raya,

mencelupkan churros ke dalam cokelat,

lalu berjalan-jalan berkeliling kota ketika semua orang tengah siesta. Rasanya seperti berjalan-jalan di kota mati, tanpa penghuni.



Matahari di bagian selatan Spanyol menyorot panas—merambat pelan dari dataran sepanjang sungai Guadalquivir yang melintasi kota dari Utara ke Selatan.  Kulitku mulai terasa perih. Sunglasses-ku berembun. Tapi tak mengapa. Aku merasa puas karena bisa memotret dengan bebas: rumah-rumah, gang, gereja, jalanan, juga atap-atap tanah liat, tanpa harus menghindari kepala orang-orang yang tiba-tiba saja lewat.

Kemudian, begitu saja, aku menemukan Basilica de la Macarena, yang menyimpan patung The Virgin of Hope (Nuestra Señora de la Esperanza). Orang-orang lokal menyebutnya La Macarena, imaji pelindung para matador dan kesayangan kaum gipsi.

Matador kelahiran Sevilla, Joselito, menghabiskan sebagian besar harta kekayaannya untuk membelikan empat butir batu permata bagi sosok Sang Perawan yang dipahat Pedro Roldán pada abad ke-17 itu. Ketika Joselito tewas di atas ring pada tahun 1920, La Macarena—dengan lima butir air mata yang bergulir di pipinya, didandani sebagai “janda” selama sebulan.

Aku melangkahkan kaki ke dalam gereja yang gelap itu, duduk di sana, dan berdoa. Ya, aku memang bukan Katolik, tetapi bukankah—seperti Hafiz, kita percaya bahwa kita selalu bisa berdoa di mana saja? Karena bukankah Tuhan, seperti cinta, ada di mana-mana, selama kita percaya?

Dan begitulah.

Apa yang mengada di antara kita akan tetap ada, selama kita percaya. Selama hati kita berkelip dalam jeda-jeda terang-gelap, seperti kode Morse yang disampaikan lewat cahaya senter di malam hari:

..   .– .. … ….   -.– — ..-   .– . .-.. .-..

.- -. -..   ..   .– .. … ….   -.– — ..-   .– . .-. .   …. . .-. .

Quisiera que estuvieras aquí,

H.

Filed Under: love, travel Tagged With: , ,

Quisiera Que Estuvieras Aquí – 1. Barcelona

November 22, 2011 By 18 Comments

You hold me tight, but I’m a dancing kite.
The wind catches me at night, tosses me lightly out of sight.
The stretch of the string’s a distance we need to work on.
But just grab me, hurry, before I fell to the ground.

Patagonia Bar di La Rambla 116 mungkin tak terbiasa kedatangan tamu pada pukul 10 pagi. Para pelayan masih sibuk menyapu lantai, juga menata meja dan kursi. Sementara Olivier—si pemilik bar juga masih mengelap gelas-gelas basah dengan wajah mengantuk. Bau alkohol menguar di udara ketika ia berbicara (“Want some cocktails?”). Mungkin ia belum tidur sehabis berpesta-pora semalaman. Di Barcelona, klub-klub baru mulai ramai menjelang pukul dua pagi, dan pesta sesungguhnya baru dimulai pada pukul tiga dini hari.

“Aku suka memandangi orang-orang yang sama sekali asing,” pernah kukatakan padamu hal ini suatu hari. “Dan aku akan bertanya-tanya serta menyusun cerita dalam benakku: siapa mereka, apa yang mereka pikirkan, akan ke mana mereka setelah ini, hal apa yang pernah mereka alami di masa lalu yang membuat mereka menjadi seperti sekarang ini?”

Misalnya lelaki dengan anjingnya itu.

Mungkin hidupnya tak selalu seperti itu. Mungkin dulu ia punya kawan-kawan. Mungkin anjing itu datang kemudian, dan mereka berdua bertahan: ia tak ingin lagi sendirian, anjing itu mencari sedikit makanan dan perlindungan. Kemudian keduanya sadar, bahwa mereka saling membutuhkan. Yang satu membuat yang lain merasa lebih baik. Dalam hidup, terkadang itu cukup. At least, you have a reason to live.

Kamu bilang, kamu mengerti. Kamu pun terkadang mempertanyakan hal yang sama, meski mungkin tak sekerap aku. Satu hal yang tak kukatakan kepadamu: aku juga melontarkan pertanyaan-pertanyaan itu, dan mereka-reka cerita tentang kamu dalam benakku. Aku sadar ada begitu banyak hal tentangmu yang tidak kuketahui hingga saat ini.

Seperti bapak tua yang tengah merapikan perhiasan-perhiasan di sebuah kios dekat dermaga, aku pun kemudian merapikan pertanyaan-pertanyaan untukmu dalam kotak-kotak kategori: hidup, cinta, keluarga, sahabat, masa-masa sulit, karir… dan begitu seterusnya, seperti dalam kolom-kolom astrologi.

Sore harinya, dari sebuah kedai kopi di kelokan Double Beates—aku menangkap sosok seorang lelaki yang tengah merokok bersandar di beranda bangunan apartemen yang terletak persis di seberang tempat dudukku.

Lalu aku bertanya-tanya mengapa ia berdiri di sana membelakangi jalanan di bawahnya. Ia justru memilih untuk menghadap ruangan tempat ia sebelumnya berada. Apa yang dilihatnya di dalam sana? Seorang perempuan yang tengah tertidur, barangkali? Televisi yang menyala dan menayangkan siaran berita? Ataukah mungkin ia memang tidak tengah memandangi apa-apa?

Dan kamu, apa yang sedang kamu lakukan saat ini? Apa yang kamu pikirkan ketika kamu bersandar di ambang jendela apartemenmu pada pagi hari, menikmati sinar matahari? Apakah kamu akan memandang ke luar, ke jalanan ramai di bawahmu—atau ke dalam ruangan? Apakah kamu akan bertanya-tanya apa yang sedang kulakukan saat itu, di mana aku, dan apakah aku tengah memikirkanmu seperti kamu yang tengah memikirkanku?

Kamu selalu bilang bahwa hidup ini lucu. Penuh dengan hal-hal sederhana yang tak pernah kamu duga keajaibannya. Aku juga berpikir begitu. Termasuk tentangmu. Tentang hal-hal yang tak pernah melintas di benakku: tentang hari ketika aku sedang tidak mencari apa-apa dan kemudian menemukanmu itu, juga tentang tanda titik dua dan kurung tutup ketika kamu tahu aku akan bertandang ke Camp Nou. Jadi hal-hal sederhana semacam pemandangan rumput  yang menghijau, tiang-tiang gawang bercat putih, serta bangku-bangku stadion berwarna biru-kuning itu juga menjelma lucu di mataku. Karena semuanya membuatku teringat kamu.

Malam harinya, aku menjengukkan kepala ke dalam galeri Hector Fernandez—yang terletak tepat di seberang apartemenku. Seorang perempuan sedang berlatih melukis di sana. Ia tersenyum ketika melihatku, kemudian kembali menunduk menekuni pekerjaannya di atas kanvas, dikelilingi cat minyak dan akrilik (tidakkah kamu suka bau cat semacam ini?).

Aku, aku sudah melukismu berkali-kali dalam benakku (hanya kamu, bukan kita—karena kita rasanya terlalu dini). Dalam benakku ada kamu: sendiri, duduk di sebuah kedai kopi, menunggu. Sesekali kamu akan membersihkan lensa kameramu lalu melihat foto-foto yang sudah kamu ambil hari itu. Kemudian kamu akan merasa sedikit bosan, lalu memandang ke sekelilingmu (juga ke arah pintu).

Kamu akan melihat orang-orang, lalu-lalang, atau duduk berpasangan. Dan kamu akan mulai mempertanyakan siapa mereka, apa yang mereka pikirkan, akan ke mana mereka setelah ini, hal apa yang pernah mereka alami di masa lalu yang membuat mereka menjadi seperti sekarang ini…

Awalnya kamu tak memperhatikan ketika pintu depan berdenting terbuka.

Tetapi beberapa detik kemudian kamu menangkap bayangan itu dari sudut matamu: seseorang berjalan mendekat, bergegas menghampiri mejamu. Kamu mengangkat wajah dan tersenyum ketika melihatku berdiri di hadapanmu. Aku akan membalas senyummu, mencuri satu sesap dari cangkir kopimu, lalu berseru: “Baiklah, sekarang tanyakan padaku semua pertanyaan-pertanyaan itu!”

Quisiera que estuvieras aquí,

H.

Filed Under: travel Tagged With: , ,

Quisiera Que Estuvieras Aquí – Prolog

November 16, 2011 By 5 Comments

Dan aku menengadah pada suatu pagi. Kota asing di negeri asing. Tetapi langit selalu membuatku merasa tak terlalu jauh dari rumah. Darimu.

Mereka menyebutnya Iberia, diambil dari kata dalam bahasa Yunani Kuno Ιβηρία (Ibēría). Temuan di dalam gua prasejarah di Altamira dan peninggalan arkeologis di Atapuerca ribuan tahun sebelum Masehi menunjukkan bahwa manusia modern telah menetap di dataran Iberia, di sepanjang sungai Ebro, atau Ibērus. Kini dataran itu membentang dari Punta de Tarifa di Selatan ke Estaca de Bares Point di Utara, mewadahi Spanyol, Portugal, Andorra, juga Gibraltar, dengan Cabo da Roca di Barat dan Cap de Creus di Timur.

Ini adalah sebuah pagi di Barcelona. Dari sebuah apartemen di lantai atas Double Beates, tak jauh dari riuh-rendah La Rambla—jalanan paling terkenal di kota. Kamu tahu, Picasso, Miró, dan Hemingway dulu biasa berjalan-jalan di atasnya, lalu minum-minum di Bar Marsella di Carrer de Sant Pau, 65 atau London Bar di Carrer Nou de la Rambla 34.

Pagi itu, ada pintu yang membuka ke beranda. Menghadap ke gang sempit yang disesaki toko kelontong, galeri seni Hector Fernandez, juga kantor-kantor (aku mengintip seorang perempuan yang sedang duduk di meja kerjanya, dikelilingi buku-buku dan alat tulis).

Ada orang-orang berbicara, berteriak, suara rantai sepeda, juga salak anjing di kejauhan. Aku berdiri di sana, memandangi. Secangkir kopi hangat di tangan, memikirkanmu.

Quisiera que estuvieras aquí,

H.

Filed Under: travel Tagged With: , ,

Pakistan: Dangerously Enchanting.

June 14, 2011 By 42 Comments

Kindness is like electricity. It keeps flowing wherever it finds a connection | Bina Shah, Pakistani’s writer & columnist

What have you heard about Pakistan?

If all that came to mind is the images of bombings, killings, corruption, Moslem extremists, natural disasters, poverty and terrorist attacks, well, you were just like me. Until four days ago, that is, when I landed in Karachi (Pakistan’s City of Bright Lights) and realized that the country has a lot more to tell than what we’ve seen in news reports.

The top of my memory list about Pakistan is the genuine warmth and hospitality of the people. It brushed over me like a sweet nostalgia of being in my own home country. The friendly gesture seeped gently and silently from the side street of Karachi, the market, to the security guards at the hotel lobby. When we were hitting Karachi’s bustling street on midday and taking pictures of a colorful tuk-tuk, the driver turned his head to us, made a peace sign with his hand, and shot us a pleasant smile. At Zainab market, overhearing Dita and me speaking in Indonesian, the shopkeeper told us how he adored Indonesian batik and wished to sell it in Pakistan (which he couldn’t do, unfortunately, due to high customs duty). It’s impossible not to feel optimistic and hopeful when there’s such friendliness around; lifting your mood as you go along.

The second is the positive energy radiated by Pakistan’s younger generation I met during the Social Media Summit. I have faith in Pakistan today, as I have faith in Indonesia 5 – 10 years ago, when things turned ugly. I mean, we’ve been dealing (and still dealt) with more or less the same thing: bombings, killings, corruption, Moslem extremists, natural disasters, poverty and terrorist attacks.

I might have little faith in our government or in the way they rule the country, but I have faith in my fellow Indonesians, especially the younger generation. They’re the ones eager to become a part of a solution instead of being a part of the problem. Maybe, we’ve been so tired of being pessimistic and cynical about a lot of things, and decided to do something about it instead. While our younger generation came up with amazing initiatives like #IndonesiaUnite, Indonesian Youth Conference, Indonesian Future Leaders, and many more, Pakistani youths have also shown their contribution to their beloved country.

One of them is Mehreen Kasana, 20 years old. When I was in Pakistan, the killing of Pakistani youth Sarfaraz Shah by Rangers personnel outside a park in Karachi made headlines everywhere. I met Mehreen during the Social Media Summit at Avari Hotel. She was standing near the coffee table, holding a sign: Stop Killing Your Own People, after coming back from protesting the brutal act. Mehreen is a media student who is loud and opinionated, and she doodles a lot. Her recent blog posting discussed about stereotyping:

I was arguing with a professor once about stereotypes and how they affect us in both direct and indirect ways on discerning levels. After being viewed as a brown Muslim female from Pakistan, I have had my fair share of instances where apparently wise people ended up asking me questions that deserved exasperated sighs and, sometimes, a good punch or two. e.g. “Do you guys in Pakistan kill every girl who wants to study?” and recently “Does everyone wear those black face net things? I heard you can get shot if you don’t.” >> Read more…

And then, there’s Syed Ali Abbas Zaidi, 25 years old—who came all the way from Islamabad, City of Angels.

We shared a session on using social media for disaster response and management. Ali and his friends started a youth movement in Pakistan, called Pakistan Youth Alliance (PYA). As quoted by The Viewspaper, Ali said:

PYA is silent revolution; it is by no means a rebellious initiative. We don’t like to point, we aim to change! We don’t mean to burn, we aim to spark! PYA is a youth motivated, youth run, and youth centered non-political/ indigenous movement which aims to wake the youth of Pakistan from the sleep of apathy. We have had it with the flaws, we have had it with injustice and we have had it being quiet. The anger in us all boils our inside so much that we wish to scream, but if we come out on streets in an unorganized manner, no one would listen. >> Read more…

Pakistan Youth Alliance played a significant role in 2010 Pakistan floods, when they did online fundraising and distributed donations to different areas blocked by the severe flooding.

And please meet Gibran Ashraf, 25 years old, a journalist at the Express Tribune who interviewed me about Coin a Chance!. When he saw my Canon 550D, we started talking about photography instead.

And this is Khaver Siddiqi, 31 years old. He’s a social media manager in a company called Creative Chaos (don’t you just love the name?). Similar to Indonesia, brands and companies in Pakistan have also started making their way into Facebook and Twitter, especially to reach the younger generation.

This is my new Pakistani sister, Sundus Rasheed, the manager of programming at an English-language radio, CityFM89 in Karachi. She loves Ariel Peterpan and really upset that Ariel is now behind bars. She was one of South Asia’s young leaders who got invited to join International Visitors Leadership Program for Civic and Political Engagement hold by US State Department.

You can’t lose hope seeing these young free spirits in Pakistan!

Sundus (and her sister) took me out at around 1 AM to roam the old town of Karachi. The town was lively in small hours, with lots of twinkling lights and street stalls. People were walking, talking, eating, and I got to taste Pakistani’s dessert made of milk cream, and savored one of the best Pistachio ice cream I’ve ever had in my life! Karachi streets after midnight were still bustling with life. Sundus told me that people are usually sleeping very late. In one stretch of the street, I could see lines of men with pillows and mattresses. And no, they are not the homeless. They are actually masseurs! :)

And who can resist the food?

Can you imagine? I didn’t really take pictures of the food one by one because I was too busy salivating and attacking mutton curry and chicken masala! And yes, we’re talking about me—who took pictures of almost any kind of food, but was too absorbed in a parade of delicious meals to take a shot of Pakistani food! And it was mango season! I couldn’t describe how sweet and fresh the mangoes were!

And what about these gorgeous sites:

Mazar-e-Quaid (Urdu: مزار قائد) or the National Mausoleum refers to the tomb of the founder of Pakistan, Muhammad Ali Jinnah. It is an iconic symbol of Karachi throughout the world. The mausoleum (Urdu/Persian/Arabic: mazār), completed in the 1960s, is situated at the heart of the city. [Wikipedia]

And this is the breath-taking view of the Jehangir Kothari Parade:

Seth Jehangir Hormusji Kothari, was a member of the Parsi community and one of prominent philanthropists in Karachi, in the days before the 1947 Partition of India. He is remembered today for the gift of his house and adjacent land for the building of a promenade, known as the Jehangir Kothari Parade,[1] on what was then Karachi’s Clifton beach. [Wikipedia]

And this is The Three Swords monument (Teen Talwar):

This impressive monument can be found in the area of Clifton. Karachi has many landmarks, but the Teen Talwar really stands-out. The three white marble swords symbolize (and are inscribed with the dogma of Pakistan’s founder, Mohammad Ali Jinnah) Unity, Faith and Discipline. (“ittehad, yaqeen-e-muhkam, tanzeem.”) This lovely tribute was commissioned by the former President & Prime Minister Zulfikar Ali Bhutto (Quaid-e-Awam). The abundance of white, good-quality marble in the city’s vicinity has apparently encouraged its wide use for the creation of many monuments, lending a symbolic nature of grandeur & purity. [TripAdvisor]

And here are some shots from Karachi streets:

Hey, remember those days when Indonesia became the “Travel Warning” country? And then Iwan Esjepe and his wife Indah Esjepe came up with the famous sticker we’re so proud of:

Well, let me tell you this: Pakistan is dangerously enchanting!

It was weird how I missed Pakistan instantly the moment I was in Dubai, waiting for my flight to Jakarta. And I just knew that I’d be back. Not only to Karachi, but also to Lahore, to Islamabad and other parts of Pakistan I’ve never seen before. This morning, at work, after feeding the goldfish and making a cup of coffee for myself, I realized how I wished I was still in Karachi: hitting the streets with some new friends, enjoying the food served at street stalls and attacking another cup of pistachio ice cream, watching concerts…

But, the best part of the visit is: that I’ve taken a bit of Pakistan’s spirit within me. And have kept it close to my heart ever since.

—–

*) thank you for everyone I met during Pakistan’s Social Media Summit, organizers, panelists, and participants, for your warm welcome and hospitality, for making me feel like I’m at home. bahut bahut shukriya.

Filed Under: posts in english, travel Tagged With: , , ,

Telunas Beach Resort, Sugi Island, Batam

March 14, 2011 By 15 Comments

It took a 1.5-hour boat ride to reach Sugi Island from Sekupang Harbor in Batam. The weather was nice, sunny and breezy. I climbed down into the boat with my bestfriend, Nena, and off we went! Our destination: Telunas Beach Resort, an eco-friendly resort built by 3 Americans (Mike, Brad, Eric) who fell in love with the beauty of Sugi Island.

The boat was loaded with groceries. There they were: our food for the next few days! There’s no village in Sugi Island, and really, there’s nothing apart from the Beach Resort. Those who ‘stay’ in the island are those working for the resort; mostly locals from islands nearby. So, it was pretty much us, the resort, and the whole island for yourself!

Apart from myself and Nena, plus Robby and Elsa (Telunas Beach Resort’s hosts), there were 2 other families with us: Australians and Dutch. Robby told us that the island and the resort are more popular to international tourists. Students from Singapore, Korea, and Japan also pay a visit every year for their summer camp.

“International tourists are mostly looking for an escape like this,” said Robby. “So close to the nature, no electricity, no air-conditioner, no jet-ski… maybe domestic tourists are looking for a more lavish holiday.”

Upon arrival, you need to climb out from the boat, and then climb a wooden ladder to the front deck. And just take a look at the gorgeous view! During high-tide, you can run and jump from the deck into the water, and swim with the fish!

The ‘common room’ includes a dining room and a living room; you share this room with everybody else who are staying in the resort. In an hour or two, you’ll find yourselves exchanging smiles, laughter, and then starting a friendly conversation with everyone.

Since we arrived at noon, we’re greeted by lunch-time! And it was a delicious parade of honey-roasted chicken, baby-corn and mushroom, and fresh watermelon! The taste was just… amazing!

The ‘ibu’ who cooked our meal is a local from an island nearby. For 2 weeks, she stayed in Batam, in the house of Telunas Resort owner. The owner’s wife taught her how to cook Western food! And the food we attacked that day was SUPER-YUMMY! Really! The ‘ibu’ should be opening a restaurant here in Jakarta—and I’ll be her regular.

[Telunas Beach Resort, Batam]

(Did you notice how they cut the watermelon? So thoughtful; that they actually gave a ‘handle’ to the watermelon! :D)

And what’s better than enjoying a cup of coffee after lunch, accompanied by this stunning view :) All day long, tea, coffee, milk, and hot water are available for free in the common room. Heaven!

Telunas ‘wooden’ Beach Resort was built in 2004, and 90% of the compound stood above sea water. There’s no electricity in Sugi Island, so the Beach Resort functioned with generators. No air-conditioner, but really, I don’t see any reason on why you’ll need one. The sea breeze is too refreshing! :) What I admired the most from the resort is its cleanliness. The room smells fresh and airy, bed-sheet is spotless, the wooden floor is amazingly clean, the bathroom works well and odor-free. Lovely.

But what’s best than having the beach for your own? When there were only you and 2 other families in the island, you’d feel as if you’re in a private beach. And again, it was one of the best beach I’ve ever seen. The sand was so clean, so white, so soft! No trace of plastic bottles or other trashes as far as the eye can see. It was just wonderful!

And what about this private-view of the sunset? :)

Apart from enjoying the white sand, reading a book or magazine while lying down in the hammock, and pampering yourself with a bath in the sea, you can also spend your time in Telunas playing volley ball, going on a kayak ride, or lighting up the campfire and baking pizza. In the morning, you can have your ‘jungle walk’ and for the more adventurous, you can also camp in the jungle! There’s also a black-hole drop inside the jungle, where you can jump from the height and dive into the pool of cold water. And don’t worry, there’s no mosquitoes in Telunas. They said it’s because of a certain tree deep in Sugi Island’s jungle which is a natural mosquito-repellent!

And you hear me, Telunas? I’ll be back—I promise, and this time: for a week getaway! :) Thanks, Maverick, for the free trip! Am looking forward to my next all-expense-paid holiday!^^

Filed Under: posts in english, travel Tagged With: , , ,

Lost in HongKong (2): Kuliner

December 21, 2010 By 14 Comments

Dari pengamatan saya, sebenarnya kuliner HongKong bisa dibagi menjadi 4; dan semuanya wajib dicicipi:

1.) Dimsum

2.) Soupy food (termasuk wonton soup dan noodle soup)

3.) Congee–alias bubur Kanton yang terkenal gurih itu

4.) Nasi–baik nasi bebek panggang, nasi ayam hainan, maupun nasi goreng Kanton


Salah satu hal yang menarik: makanan paling lezat di HongKong bisa ditemukan di restoran/kedai paling kecil, gang paling sempit, atau ‘warung kaki lima’ di pinggiran jalan yang paling ramai dilalui orang. Satu hal lagi yang bisa menjadi indikasi adalah ramainya warga lokal yang tengah bersantap di kedai tersebut, terutama orang-orang tua :)

Ada tantangan tersendiri ketika mencoba menikmati santapan di restoran ‘lokal’ macam ini: pelayan yang tak bisa berbahasa Inggris dan ketiadaan menu berbahasa Inggris. Alhasil, pelayan akan berbicara dengan bahasa Kanton, dan Anda harus berbicara dengan bahasa… isyarat. Jadi, Anda pun harus siap mental menghadapi ibu-ibu tua pendorong gerobak dimsum yang akan memberikan tatapan semacam ini: (- -’) atau -_______- ketika Anda terbengong-bengong lama sebelum memilih dimsum.

Beberapa kebiasaan makan di restoran/kedai kecil seputaran HongKong, di antaranya:

  1. Walau mejanya adalah meja bulat dengan 4-6 kursi per mejanya, semua orang bisa duduk di kursi yang kosong. Jadi, Anda bisa saja makan satu meja dengan orang yang sama sekali asing
  2. Terkadang disediakan juga air panas untuk ‘merebus’ sumpit dan sendok yang akan digunakan untuk makan
  3. Ketika sedang makan, suara menyeruput diperbolehkan, tandanya makanannya enak :)
  4. Jangan kaget juga, ketika sedang makan dan misalnya hendak membuang tulang ayam di mulut, orang lokal akan langsung meludahkannya pelan-pelan ke atas meja makan. Jadi di atas meja makan, di sebelah mangkuk, Anda akan melihat tumpukan tulang ayam atau tulang bebek :D

Untuk informasi lengkap mengenai restoran/kedai kecil yang menyajikan makanan lezat di HongKong, silakan klik di sini :)

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Lost in HongKong (1): Transportasi

December 13, 2010 By 16 Comments

Sebenarnya memang tak mudah untuk ‘tersesat’ di HongKong. Berhubung moda transportasi di negara ini sangat baik, akan sangat mudah bagi turis maupun pendatang untuk bepergian dari satu tempat ke tempat lain. Mau cepat-cepat meluncur dari bandara menuju kota?

Tak masalah.

Anda tinggal melompat naik ke atas Airport Express yang datang setiap 10 menit sekali. Membawa koper besar? Tenang, Anda tinggal melenggang santai, menyeret koper Anda, dan meletakkannya di tempat penyimpanan barang. Kemudian, duduklah di bangku yang luas dan nyaman. Dalam waktu sekitar 20 menit, Anda sudah sampai di Central. Sebelum Central, Airport Express juga berhenti di Kowloon. Menggunakan Airport Express, Anda bisa memprediksi waktu menuju airport dengan cukup akurat.

Di dalam kota sendiri, pilihan transportasi tersedia: mulai dari trem atau yang biasa disebut ding-ding oleh orang lokal,

bis umum,

juga MTR (Mass Transit Railway),

sampai kapal feri yang membawa kita menyeberang dari Central ke Kowloon atau dari HongKong ke Macau.

Semuanya serba teratur, tertib, nyaman. Tentu, masih saja ada orang yang berdiri dan tidak mendapatkan tempat duduk. Tapi tentunya masih cukup manusiawi kalau dibandingkan dengan orang-orang yang berjejal di kereta ekonomi kita, atau MetroMini.

Mencari sebuah tempat juga lumayan mudah. Tinggal tanya apakah harus mengikuti Exit A, B, C bahkan A1, B1, dan seterusnya. Semua bisa dilihat dengan jelas di stasiun MTR. Plang nama jalan juga memudahkan ketika harus menemukan sebuah tempat: tinggal naik ding-ding, turun di halte sekitar Causeway Bay, lalu berjalan kaki menuju Jalan Anu. Kehidupan sebagai kurir atau petugas antar-barang pasti jadi lebih mudah di sini. Bandingkan dengan mencari alamat di Jakarta. Kalau naik bis, bisnya bisa berhenti di mana saja. Malah terkadang tidak berhenti di halte. Belum lagi desak-desakannya, yang bisa menjadi pengalaman tersendiri.

Saya masih ingat betapa ajaibnya kereta ekonomi atau Kopaja. Walau penumpang sudah penuh sampai berdiri berjejal di pintu, kita masih saja bisa masuk. Entah bagaimana, kita akan terbawa arus penumpang yang naik. Dan tahu-tahu sudah ada di dalam! Lalu di dalam ketika berdiri, juga tak perlu berpegangan, karena kiri-kanan depan-belakang sudah ada orang yang akan mencegah kita tergelincir ke kiri atau ke kanan ketika bus mengerem mendadak. Secara tidak langsung, kepadatan ini juga mempermudah terjadinya pelecehan di dalam transportasi umum.

Agak sedih juga melihat betapa kereta api listrik lungsuran Jepang (di sana sudah jadi barang bekas kali, ya) kemudian menjadi kereta api ekspres AC kita yang bertaraf paling mahal. Masih saja, orang-orang sepanjang rel kereta api melempari kereta yang lewat dengan batu, untuk memecahkan kacanya. Mungkin mereka mengganggapnya mengasyikkan, seperti semacam permainan menembak sasaran. Lalu pegangan untuk orang-orang yang terpaksa berdiri di kereta, bisa sampai lepas. Dan dibiarkan saja tergantung sedemikian menyedihkannya. Bangku kereta ketumpahan minuman bernoda. Besi rel kereta api dicuri orang. Memanjat tangga menuju halte TransJakarta juga jadi perjuangan tersendiri. Ada lantai yang hilang di tengah-tengah, sehingga membahayakan mereka yang lengah.

Permasalahan Jakarta itu mungkin sebagian terletak pada kesemrawutan pemerintah mengatur moda transportasinya. Tapi sebagian lagi, memang juga terletak pada kesadaran penggunanya.

Filed Under: travel Tagged With: , , ,
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