Semuanya nampak seperti serangkaian “kebetulan”.

Seorang sahabat dari luar kota mengajak saya ‘sowan’ ke sebuah kedai teh mungil di kota tempat saya tinggal. Kedai teh yang belum pernah saya dengar namanya, dan belum pernah saya kunjungi sebelumnya.

Di kedai teh ini, kami berbincang tentang banyak hal, seperti biasa. Dan selagi kami berbincang tentang kamu, pemilik kedai teh itu—seorang lelaki bertubuh kecil dan berwajah ramah, datang menyapa. Ia kemudian menyodorkan sebungkus teh hasil racikannya sendiri, yang disimpannya di dalam sebuah kaleng.

Saya menghirup wangi teh dalam bungkusan itu. Segar; seperti wangi laut dan musim panas.

Lantas, jika kamu percaya bahwa tidak ada hal yang bernama ‘kebetulan’ di dunia ini, maka bukan kebetulan pula jika teh racikan di dalam kaleng itu bernama Fragrance of Love. Campuran dari berbagai jenis teh asli Indonesia dengan chammomile, peppermint, kulit jeruk, dan serai (lemongrass).

***

Nama kedai teh itu Lare Solo.

Kedainya kecil saja, seperti warung-warung teh yang biasa kamu temui di perjalanan menuju Puncak. Letaknya di kawasan Agripark, Taman Kencana, Bogor. Nama pemiliknya Pak Bambang.

“Awalnya saya membuka kedai teh ini karena blog juga. Saya bercerita tentang teh di sana, dan banyak orang yang suka. Jadilah kemudian saya berkenalan dengan kawan-kawan pecinta teh lainnya, dan mendirikan kedai teh ini, kecil-kecil saja,” ujar Pak Bambang sambil menyeduhkan teh untuk kami.

Oh ya, apakah kamu tahu mengenai ‘Jayeng’? Jayeng adalah jabatan non-formal yang diberikan kepada pembuat teh untuk warga. Di setiap hajatan, Jayeng akan menyiapkan puluhan gelas teh untuk para tamu. Mulai dari merebus air, menyeduh teh, menuangkannya ke dalam gelas, memberi gula, dan mengaduknya satu per satu. Jayeng menjadi semacam profesi yang memadukan tradisi, pengabdian, kesungguhan, dan kecintaan akan teh. Ada banyak lagi kisah-kisah menarik seputar teh yang bisa kamu temukan lewat halaman-halaman blog Pak Bambang, atau lewat percakapan santai dengan beliau di Lare Solo.

Dari dapur kecil ini, berbagai macam teh diseduh dan dihidangkan. Ada empat macam teh yang kami coba hari itu: teh tarik, mango sencha, fragrance of love, dan racikan teh peppermint dari Pak Bambang. “Cukup banyak varian teh, bunga-bungaan, dan bahkan peppermint ini masih impor,” Pak Bambang menjelaskan. “Tanah dan cuaca sangat mempengaruhi rasa, jadi walaupun satu varian teh atau bunga-bungaan bisa ditanam di Indonesia, rasa dan aromanya entah mengapa tidak bisa ‘pas’. Misalnya untuk peppermint ini, saya sudah coba daun mint dari berbagai daerah di Indonesia, tetapi rasa dan aromanya kok beda.”

Menghirup aroma dari bungkusan demi bungkusan teh yang disodorkan Pak Bambang ternyata begitu mengasyikkan. Wangi ‘rumput laut’ yang tercium pada berbagai bungkusan teh hijau pun membuat saya ingin membawanya pulang dan meletakkannya di samping tempat tidur.

Untuk 1 teh tarik dan 3 poci teh yang kami pesan, ditambah dua porsi risoles keju dan daging asap, percaya atau tidak—kami hanya membayar 40ribu rupiah. Surga yang luar biasa bagi para pecinta teh, terutama bagi mereka yang terbiasa membayar 40ribu rupiah hanya untuk sepoci teh di Jakarta. Belum lagi percakapan dengan Pak Bambang, yang nilainya melebihi nominal tersebut. Mulai dari mengenal berbagai jenis teh, upacara minum teh di Jepang, racikan-racikan teh yang pernah dibuat, sampai perjalanan beliau mendirikan kedai teh mungil ini, semuanya menjadi teman minum teh yang sangat menyenangkan.

Suatu hari, saya akan mengajakmu ke sini dan memperkenalkanmu dengan sesuatu yang bukan kebetulan itu. Sepoci Fragrance of Love. Diminum hangat-hangat. Kalau kamu bertanya seperti apa rasanya? Aku akan menjawab bahwa rasanya…

seperti kita.

Care for a cup of tea and me? 😉

_____________________________________________________________________________

This post has been published in AirAsia Indonesia’s 3Sixty magazine, Feb 2015.

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Short trips. Lovely weekends. Books. Paintings. Sketches. Taking pictures. Shopping for shoes and blazers. Cute things. Adorable moments. Winter days. Friends. Great laughs. You. March.

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~ liturgi ~

suatu senja, ada upacara kecil pecah di atas mejaku. upacara-upacara sepatutnya sunyi. seperti doa-doa yang ditasbihkan dalam hati. kata-kata merinai di jendela. aku teringat akan candi-candi. perayaan tanpa suara. mantra-mantra yang mengalun diam di antara nyala ribuan lilin. mengingatkanku pada masa-masa yang jauh. sesuatu yang nyaris purba. orang-orang yang menengadah ke langit. merunduk ke bumi. lalu berdoa. karena mereka ingin. karena mereka ingat. upacara di mejaku adalah serupa pengingat tentang dirimu. juga untuk aku yang menginginkan kamu. namamu berjatuhan di atas kepalaku. ribuan keheningan. seperti doa-doa yang sampai ke tujuan. demi kemudian-kemudian dan kemungkinan-kemungkinan di masa yang akan datang, mataku terpejam. bibirku terkatup. hatiku terbuka.

~ liturgy ~

one evening, a small ceremony takes place on my desk. ceremonies are supposed to be still. like prayers, recited at heart. words are pouring down the window. my mind goes to the temples. soundless celebrations. silent chants, flowing among thousands of candlelights. reminding me of faraway moments. something that is almost ancient. people who look up to the sky. bow down to the earth. then pray. because they want to. because they remember. the ceremony on my desk is a kind of commemoration for you. and for myself, who longs for you. your name is falling on my head. thousands of quietudes. like prayers arriving at their destinations. in the name of upcomings and possibilities in the future, my eyes are closed. my lips are sealed. my heart is unlocked.

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I’m back.

Sketchbook, brushes and watercolors. A tiny collection, a very minimum supply. But I’m enjoying my time (a surplus of anything won’t guarantee your happiness), making a mess in my room. During weekends, the windows are wide open. The sunlight is pouring in. On weekdays, arriving at home late at night, I’m embracing the light bulbs and the sound of the cicadas. Sitting in front of my dressing table, I’m coloring some of the drawings I’ve made the previous days, while waiting for my hair to dry. The sweet smell of the shampoo is wafting over my head.

I take the luxury of ordering beautiful illustration books, which are so darn expensive. But I am saving my money to get these books onto my working desk, with the same amount of determination that may be possessed by a woman who has been craving for a pair of branded shoes for years. Books, of any kind, have always become my most valuable possessions. Especially when the books are beautifully illustrated!

Lately, sketchbooks and journals of artists and painters draw me in. It’s like peeking into their creative minds and nibbling at it (hmm, sounds zombie-ish, but no, it’s actually ‘nibbling’ in a rather cute way!)

Thus, I’m back with my sketchbook, brushes, and watercolors. Something I’ve given up hope for long ago. But now it feels exciting and dear to me again, all of a sudden. Travel journal catches my heart as it captures three things that I’m so in love with: traveling, writing, and drawing.

So, I’m starting to paint Hong Kong while preparing myself to paint my future journeys.

Painting is just another way of keeping a diary | Pablo Picasso

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The Jakarta sky was shining above my head. It was 2 pm, a Sunday, some time in late December. The weather was hot and humid, as always. I stepped into the outdoors with my shirt, short pants, and flip-flops. I instantly fell in love with the potted plants and frangipanis. The unlit candles, floating silently on top of coconut oil inside transparent glasses. The wooden floor. And the rooftop pool overlooking the city’s tall buildings. I dipped my toes in there. The cold water felt calming, relaxing, and… a bit jellyish, like the feeling you got when you dipped your hands into a bowl full of marshmallows. Therapeutic in a way, that soothing kind of vibe that enveloped you every time you’re thinking of those lovely memories you’ve shared with someone so dear to your heart.

This morning, I stumbled upon a beautiful song called Wish You Were Here by Blackmore’s Night, posted by a friend. It brought back all the sweet thoughts I had that day, one Sunday afternoon, when I was dipping my toes in the cold water, secretly thinking about you and wondering how perfect it would be if you were here with me. To my surprise, I found more songs with the title Wish You Were Here, and they are all so bewitching, I couldn’t help but share it here. From the sweetest tones to the rockin’ style, old and new, upbeat and classic, you’ll be amazed by these:

1. Wish You Were Here by Blackmore’s Night

2. Wish You Were Here by Endah & Rhesa

3. Wish You Were Here by Avril Lavigne

4. Wish You Were Here by The Sounds

5. Wish You Were Here by Ryan Adams

6. Wish You Were Here by Incubus

7. Wish You Were Here – Pink Floyd

8. Wish You Were Here – Bliss [Buddha Bar version]

9. Wish You Were Here – Mark Wills

10. Wish You Were Here – Eddie Fisher

11. Wish You Were Here by Fleetwood Mac

12. Wish You Were Here by Stefani Germanotta


[And these are for you. One song for each passing month. Wish you were here.]

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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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Hanny illustrator
Hi. I'm HANNY
I am an Indonesian writer/artist/illustrator and stationery web shop owner (Cafe Analog) based in Amsterdam, the Netherlands. I love facilitating writing/creative workshops and retreats, especially when they are tied to self-exploration and self-expression. In Indonesian, 'beradadisini' means being here. So, here I am, documenting life—one word at a time.

hanny

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