“Jo! So, tell me what’s around!”

It was a cloudy morning in LodTunduh village. I was sipping my coffee at the breakfast table. The villa where I stayed, Villa Lestaru, belongs to the family of a friend. It consisted of 3 lovely bungalows with private pool, located in the middle of a rice field and a small forest. Amazingly, amidst being ‘off-the-beaten-path’, they have the fastest wi-fi connection I’ve ever found in and around Ubud so far.

After checking in the other night, I tried to Google the things I could see or do around LodTunduh, but it seemed useless. I couldn’t get anything. My search always led me to see or do something in Ubud, instead of LodTunduh. So, I decided to ditch Google and went to Jo instead.

Jo, who worked in the villa where I stayed, is a friendly guy with a big smile. During the times I stayed there, he seemed to be doing everything from driving guests around to taking orders for breakfast. Jo was born in LodTunduh and had been staying in this little village ever since.

Surely he knows the best spots around here?

Deciphering Lodtunduh Village.

Jo looked at me quizzically when I asked him about ‘interesting’ stuff in LodTunduh. “Well, there isn’t much but paddy fields,” he shrugged his shoulders. “However, there are many things in Ubud, the palace, the market…”

“But Jo,” I cut him midair. “What’s in Lodtunduh? I know what’s in Ubud, because I’ve been spending so much time there. But what’s around here? In this village? Is there anything interesting to visit, to see, to experience?”

Jo seemed perplexed. He bit his lower lip. And started thinking. Hard. “Here? Well, just the village,” he scratched his head. “Not much, really.”

I started to feel as if my enthusiasm level suddenly dropped to zero. But I was not ready to give up. Located only 10-15 minutes away from Ubud central by bike, LodTunduh is a charming little village that–I believe–hid its own gem.

Some people, including myself, choose to stay in this area when visiting Ubud. Not only because the area is quieter and less-packed with tourists, but also because a lot of villas, inns, bungalows, and homestays in LodTunduh are offering beautiful rooms with much lower price than the ones in Ubud Central. If you can ride a bike, the distance from Ubud won’t bother you at all.

Have you ever played ‘tourist’ in your hometown?

I had been visiting or passing LodTunduh village a few times before, and I remembered passing a huge sign for Luwak (Civet) Coffee Agrotourism site by the street. Coffee that comes from part-digested coffee cherries eaten and defecated by palm civet is what they called Luwak Coffee, or Kopi Luwak.

“What about that Luwak Coffee Agrotourism nearby?” I probed Jo.
Jo’s eyes lit up. “Oh, yes! Yes, you can walk around that agrotourism site and drink coffee. And not far from there, there is this beautiful restaurant that serves crispy duck, it’s called Bebek Teba Sari!”

I smiled. My enthusiasm level went back up a notch. We’re getting there, Jo. We’re getting there.

“So, what else apart from the duck? Where can I get good food around here?”

“Well, I guess, that’s it. The duck. There aren’t so many restaurants here, because LodTunduh is only opening itself for tourism not long ago–so, we don’t have as many restaurants around. LodTunduh is more of a farming village. People are farmers. Now, some of them are becoming tour guides and drivers, or work in hotels, but most are still farmers. So, not so many options for food, but Ubud has many restaurants!” Jo smiled a winning smile.

And then I got it.

I believed that Jo actually knew so many ‘interesting’ things to see, eat, or experience around LodTunduh. But I guess, my interpretation of ‘interesting’ is simply different from his.

Jo was born in LodTunduh. He had been seeing the same views: places, fields, and temples around this village his whole life. Nothing is ‘interesting’ for him, because he grows up with them all. He has become so used to it–he couldn’t really see (yet) his village from the eyes of a curious traveler (or tourist, I don’t mind that word) like me.

Are we all partially-blind when it comes to our own hometown? Well, if we have never played tourist in our hometown, I think that could be the case.

I used to be partially-blind about my hometown in Bogor, too. I only started to see it as a town with more ‘hidden gems’ than the obvious Botanical Garden and the overpacked Puncak Pass mountain-side when I started giving free tours for Couchsurfers & travellers who were visiting. Suddenly, I was interested in everything: about the spotted deers in the Presidential Palace’s garden, the culinary street around Suryakencana and Air Mancur, the hidden Pulo Geulis temple…

I could see it clearly now. If I’d like to know more about LodTunduh, I just needed to ask Jo the right questions.

What to see, eat, and do around LodTunduh–according to Jo.

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“Jo, where is the best place for you to get some food around LodTunduh? Places that you think serve the best food?”

“Well, there are some small warungs (small shop/stalls) that serve delicious food,” Jo answered. “I like Warung Ibu Ida that serves nasi campur (mixed rice) and there is also a nice warung that serves babi guling (suckling pig). But I don’t remember the name,” Jo laughed. “I always eat there and I know the place, but I just don’t know the name, I never noticed.”

“Where are they located?”
“Near the market.”
“Which market?” I asked, a bit confused. I never noticed any market around LodTunduh before.

And then Jo enlightened me.

There was a junction in LodTunduh, and in one of its corner, you can find a mini-market called Puri Kawan. Each morning, from 4 am to 8 am, the streets in front and along Puri Kawan will turn into a local market. The locals go there to sell and buy groceries: vegetables, spices, meat, fish–and we can also find many local delicacies sold there for breakfast.

The warungs that serve nasi campur and babi guling with local taste can also be found along this street. If you came after 8 am, the ‘local market’ would have disappeared without trace–and all you could find is the junction and Puri Kawan mini market.

“Jo! This is awesome!” I clapped my hands enthusiastically while jotting down all the information he gave me. “This is exactly what I’m looking for! Now, tell me, if I go around LodTunduh from here, what are the things I can see? It doesn’t have to be a tourist attraction or a restaurant, just tell me, if you go around the village from here, what would you pass?”

Jo thought about this for a while. And then he started out with Pura Bija, or Bija Temple. It was located right at the mouth of the alley leading up the street from the villa where I stayed. Jo told me that Bija Temple and 2 other big temples around LodTunduh are not ‘touristic’ temples. You cannot just enter these temples without permission–they are still closely restricted only for prayers and ceremonies.

The temples are only open for public during odalan–or the ‘birthday’ of that temple,” said Jo. “Different temples have different birthdays. I can find out when is the odalan for the temples, but even if there’s no odalan, I can also help you to get permission should you like to enter the temples. Pura Bija, that is closest to this villa, is a temple for Aryan caste.”

“Then you can drive around and see the rice fields,” Jo continued. “Just go to the market and drive South. You’ll see loads of rice fields with the farmers working, sun-drying their grains… all activities are still conducted traditionally. Like I said before, most people here are farmers. But if you go around, you can also see little shops selling paintings.”

“Farming is still the villagers’ main occupation, but most of them know art by heart, and in their spare time, they create art you can see in many galleries around here,” Jo explained. “There is a place called Silungan, only around 150 meters away. You can learn how to paint there–abstract paintings or caricatures. If you want to learn carving, I can also take you to some little shops. They don’t put up signs for classes or anything, because they are just local people who knows how to paint or carve. But we can go to one of them and ask them if they can give you a private class.”

The more I listened to Jo talking, the more I was amazed by the hidden gems LodTunduh has to offer. And Jo himself had transformed from someone who said ‘there-isn’t-much-to-see-around-here’ to a guy with tons of valuable information, local insights, and precious contacts.

He also knew a pottery place nearby where you can buy pretty ceramics like mugs, bowls, and plates. If you’d like to have your own set of Balinese traditional costume (the colorful Balinese kebaya), you can tailor-made it at some small tailors along the junction. For one set (the top and the cloth you wear like sarong), you need only to pay around IDR100,000,- or USD 8! This one really blew my mind, as I personally love Balinese kebaya!

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From LodTunduh to the North, East, South, and West.

“Tell me, Jo, what can I see if I drive North, East, South, and West from here?”

“If you continue to drive West, you’ll see the Luwak Coffee Agrotourism, loads of local warungs and the morning market, you can drop by at Ibu Ida’s warung for nasi campur and the other warung for suckling pigs. There is the duck restaurant, and if you continue to drive West, you can see Taman Ayun Sangeh and end up in Canggu,” said Jo. “While to the East, you’ll pass stretches of inns, homestays, bungalows, and villas. Further East, you’ll pass the Tegenengan waterfalls, and the Elephant Cave.”

I drew this practical information in my mind, making a ‘compass’ of my own with LodTunduh at its center. It seemed easier now to navigate everywhere from LodTunduh. I was thinking that if I could spend 4 days here, I could just spend a day to drive West, a day to drive East, a day to drive South, and a day to drive North… and there would so many things I could see already!

To the South, you can see all the art galleries, the rice fields and the traditional mills, then more inns, villas, and bungalows. You can also end up in Canggu going this way,” said Jo. “To the North, is to the direction of Ubud. You can find more Coffee Agrotourism places, Kengetan bridge and the river below it where people threw away the ashes from the cremation ceremony, and there are also many temples along the way, oh, and you can go to a restaurant called Warung 9 at the border between LodTunduh and Ubud.”

Warung 9, later on, turned out to be the highlight of my culinary trip in and around Ubud. They have another branch now in Jalan Suweta–a street next to Ubud Palace, called 9 Angels. The concept is brilliant.

Decorated eclectically, the warung serves buffet of vegetarian food. You serve yourself from the buffet and grab your own plates and spoon and fork. There are baskets of tropical fruits and a blender, so if you’d like to make a smoothie, suit yourself.

Screen Shot 2016-02-29 at 11.02.50 PM

Afterwards, you pay what you eat by donation. Left your money inside a glass jar. There is no cashier whatsoever. The place operates based on trust and kindness. If you have more money, leave more money inside the jar–you may help feed those who do not have enough money who came to eat here! When you’re done, wash your own plates, and leave the place with your tummy and heart, full.

And on my last day in LodTunduh, lazying around by the pool under the drizzles, I realised that I am indeed, full: of delicious food, of Jo’s ‘local traveler’s map‘, and of another amazing experience of discovering a new place–seeing the way it opens itself up to me through the many kind souls I’ve met along the way.

For LodTunduh, I would say:
Thank you, Jo!

Where to stay in LodTunduh to meet Jo:
Villa Lestaru
Jalan Lodtunduh, Gang Pura Bija, 80571
Ubud, Indonesia
*Guests can enjoy airport pick up service, free use of 2 bicycles for each room, and scheduled shuttle service to central Ubud.
Where to get crispy duck & betutu in LodTunduh:
Bebek Teba Sari
Jl. Raya Kengetan – Lodtunduh,
Ubud, Gianyar, Bali, Indonesia
Where to experience a full tummy and a full heart in LodTunduh:
Warung 9
Jl. Lodtunduh
Ubud, Bali, Indonesia
+62 817-776-768
hanny
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What is the actual price of ‘happiness’?

IT was 2.30 in the morning when I jumped into a red jeep heading to Mount Bromo. I was still a bit sleepy, but excited nonetheless. There is something about the mountains that never fails to envelope me in a certain sense of wonder and serenity. I had wrapped myself in thermal clothes, two layers of scarf, an overcoat, and an adopted brown ushanka–a thick and warm hat with earflaps that are normally used during winter (my friend decided to throw his ushanka away, and I decided to claim it as mine). The temperature in Bromo could drop to around 3°C – 5°C in early morning. Not to mention the wind!

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The entire top of Mount Bromo has been blown off in an eruption and the crater inside it is like a giant chimney that paints the sky with white sulphurous smoke. Today, the mountain sits majestically inside Bromo-Tengger-Semeru National Park, surrounded by a sea of volcanic sand and a ring of green valleys. In the dark of the morning, enveloped by the fog, hundreds of jeeps and motorbikes were racing along with the road’s rough twist and turns to reach the Sunrise Point, or Penanjakan, as the locals dubbed it. At around 4.30 – 5.00 am, everyone would gather around the viewing point with their cameras–ready to snap the breath-taking view of the first rays of sunshine bathing the mountaintops with golden lights.

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That morning was no exception. Plus, it was also a Sunday. The number of people who were trying to reach Sunrise Point was overwhelming. Old people, young people, little kids–they competitively shoved their way along the steep hill to occupy the front row at Sunrise Point, their cameras out and ready. I didn’t feel like joining the crowd; or pushing my way forward, so I just sat at the side of the road–next to the Tengger people selling chilis, onions, and Teddy Bear made out of dried flowers; enjoying the cool mountain breeze and the warmth of the rising sun on my face.

Screen Shot 2015-11-18 at 6.45.14 AM

***

“DID you see that?” a friend of mine who just got back from Sunrise Point shook her head in disbelief.

“See what?” I asked, a bit confused.

“You see that platform over there?” she pointed at a raised platform with a roof next to Sunrise Point. “That is actually a platform for prayers. People are not supposed to stand there; and definitely not with their dirty shoes on–but because the Sunrise Point is so full, the crowd just spilled onto the platform. Some tourists even stepped over a pile of clean praying mats, and a local guy was desperately trying to tell them to step off, but they were not listening!”

***

A FEW minutes later, I found myself in a small warung not far from Penanjakan, sipping tea while listening to the chatter around me–looking dreamily at the wave of tourists who were climbing down the hills cheerfully; now that the sun had risen. Some of them who traveled in groups were busy chatting and showing each other pictures from their cameras or smartphones, before taking more pictures along the way.

It was heart-warming to see their happy faces in the cold, however, I was also feeling a bit sad thinking about the incident at the praying platform. Some people might be too focused and too excited about getting their perfect sunrise shot that they couldn’t care less about anything else. They were so proud and happy to show their perfect sunrise shot later on, unconscious about how they might have hurt someone’s feelings during the process.

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I wondered, if I also did this as I went through life–sometimes unconsciously, some other times carelessly. What is the actual price of a perfect sunrise shot? What is the actual price of ‘happiness’? How many people and feelings I have ‘hurt’ so I can be ‘happy’?

***

I was reminded of a story told by a friend of mine one day–about him trying to climb up a mountain in East Nusa Tenggara with a group of friends and a local guide. “I wasn’t that fit to climb a mountain,” he told me, laughing. “So after a while, when everyone was still so energized, I told them that I might not be able to continue. I was so sad and disappointed in myself because really, I would love to get to the top and see the view from up there!”

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When my friend told the group and the local guide that he was going to ‘give up’ and just wait for the rest of them there, the local guide apparently saw the disappointment on his face. “Why were you so disturbed by this?” he asked.

“Because I want to see the view from the top! It must be really beautiful! But I couldn’t get there,” he replied, a bit pissed off with himself.

“Look around you,” said the local guide.

“Huh?” my friend looked at the local guide, confused.

“Look around you,” the local guide repeated what he was saying.

Screen Shot 2015-11-18 at 6.44.52 AM

So my friend did just that. He looked around him. And only then he realized that he was seeing the lush green valleys, the view of the small town beneath, the swaying trees, the wild flowers dancing in the wind, the bright blue sky…

“Isn’t it beautiful?” the local guide smiled.

“It is…” my friend answered in amazement. “I didn’t realize how beautiful it is here, I was too busy climbing and watching my steps along the way!” he laughed.

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“Yes, sometimes we’re too busy thinking about getting to the top safely, so we watch our steps and we push ourselves, and we just ignore the beauty around us–because in our mind, we’re only thinking about enjoying the view from the top,” said the local guide. “But the view from here is beautiful, too, right? We have been surrounded by beautiful views from the point where we started.”

My friend told me later that it was one of the most eye-opening moments in his life.

***

MOUNTAINS will always have a special place in my heart.

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The town I live in is surrounded by mountains. To me, mountains represent reconciliation–something to mend what has been broken. When my parents got into a heated argument and didn’t talk to each other for a few days, one of them would say, “Let’s go to Puncak (the mountain area).” The pursued party would not say a thing, but if it was my mother, she would start packing some snacks and drinks for us to say ‘OK’–or if it was my father, he would start heating the engine of our red Chevrolet pick-up.

And off we go to the mountains.

I would sit in-between them. My father behind the wheels, my mother next to the passengers’ window. I didn’t really know what happens, but they usually started talking after a while, and when we got back home, they were already reconciled and started cooking dinner together or teasing each other in the kitchen, just like the good old days.

***

So what is the actual price of ‘happiness’?

I am always reminded of this question every time I think about Bromo. And it is, in itself, a reminder for myself every time I think about being ‘happy’. Or maybe I just need to redefine ‘happiness’ once more.

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Maybe happiness is not really about getting the perfect sunrise shot. Or about enjoying the beautiful view from a mountain top. Maybe it’s more about everything we hold dear in our hearts on our way there. Because maybe, the happiness we’re looking for is already here all along.

*) thank you to The Ministry of Tourism of the Republic of Indonesia for having me on your Wonderful Indonesia trip to Mount Bromo.
PHOTO BY NICO WIJAYA.
hanny
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DISCLAIMER: Beberapa waktu lalu, saya diundang meliput perjalanan dua pemenang kompetisi Go Ahead Challenge dalam gelaran Paris Fashion Week 2014; dengan tiket pesawat, akomodasi, serta uang saku selama perjalanan ditanggung oleh tim penyelenggara. Meskipun demikian, saya berangkat dalam kapasitas sebagai independent blogger yang berhak menuliskan dan melaporkan (ataupun tidak) mengenai apapun yang saya lihat, alami, dan rasakan selama perjalanan tersebut; tanpa sensor maupun suntingan dari pihak penyelenggara. Bagian pertama dari seri ini dapat dibaca di sini.

Ada orang-orang yang nyaris tak kelihatan di balik tiap impian yang jadi kenyataan.

Selagi kau berjajar dengan tawa menggigit dan dompet yang dikempit, di tengah wangi parfum yang menguar samar-samar dan kilat lampu dari kamera-kamera yang gemerlap berkeredap, mereka yang nyaris tak kelihatan mengelap gelas-gelas champagne dengan serbet dan menurunkan krat-krat minuman di tengah angin yang menggigilkan. Mereka yang nyaris tak kelihatan berdiri berjam-jam di ruang sempit dan bekerja sepagian membubuhkan bedak dan perona pipi sesuai takaran yang diharuskan. Beberapa lagi menyeterika tak henti-henti dan mengepel lantai berkali-kali; memastikan semua mengilat sempurna untuk malam paripurna. Ada toilet-toilet yang dibersihkan, puntung-puntung rokok yang dikembalikan ke dalam tempat sampah, dan kaki-kaki yang lelah karena terlalu banyak berjalan lekas-lekas.

Dalam setiap mimpimu yang jadi kenyataan, ada orang-orang yang nyaris tak kelihatan; yang diam-diam memungkinkan mimpimu menjelma seperti yang kau inginkan. Kepada orang-orang yang nyaris tak kelihatan ini; kepada merekalah kau berutang terima kasih.

***

Ketika saya melewati lobi hotel seraya merapatkan overcoat untuk bersiap menyambut dinginnya jalan-jalan kota Paris, saya menemukan barisan perempuan-perempuan tinggi dan ramping memenuhi koridor. Rata-rata, mereka mendekap map portfolio di dada. Seorang gadis keluar dari dalam salah satu ruangan hotel, kemudian mengangkat bahu ketika pandangannya beradu dengan gadis-gadis tinggi-ramping lainnya. “I don’t think I get it,” ujarnya pelan.

Sore itu, lantai bawah hotel kami yang mungil–Eugène en Ville di Rue Buffault–disesaki model-model Perancis yang hendak mengikuti casting. Dari sekitar 35 model yang diundang untuk casting, hanya 2 orang yang akan terpilih untuk dipotret oleh Bram dan tim Michel Dupré: satu model lelaki, dan satu model perempuan. Sayangnya, sore itu saya tak sempat melihat para model lelaki berjajar di lobi. Dalam pemotretan yang akan berlangsung lusa, model lelaki yang terpilih akan mengenakan desain rancangan Sylvester, sementara model perempuan akan mengenakan rancangan Tex Saverio.

Melihat sosok-sosok tinggi-ramping yang berjajar di lobi hotel itu–sebagian nampak tegang dan penuh harap; saya akhirnya mengerti. Mereka, sosok-sosok yang fisiknya selalu saya anggap demikian indah itu, juga tengah bergulat dengan impian-impian, pemikiran-pemikiran, dan perjuangan-perjuangan mereka sendiri: menembus udara Paris yang dingin dan berlari-lari naik-turun tangga stasiun serta berpindah-pindah dari satu jalur metro ke jalur metro lainnya, berjalan kaki cepat-cepat untuk tak terlambat menuju entah casting keberapa pada hari itu.

Sebagian dari mereka mungkin lelah, sebagian lagi mungkin sudah siap untuk menyerah, sebagian lagi berharap banyak karena pekerjaan ini bisa membantu mereka membayar biaya kuliah. Sebagian datang dari tempat-tempat jauh. Sebagian mempertaruhkan rasa percaya. Sebagian mencoba tak mengeluh karena harus berdiri lama.

Di sisi ruangan yang lain, ada Sylvester yang juga tengah mengejar impiannya. Ada banyak harapan dan tanggung jawab melekat padanya untuk mengambil keputusan. Ia harus memilih model terbaik yang akan bekerja dengannya. Model yang akan cocok dengan keseluruhan konsep photoshoot yang sudah disusun Bram dan Michel, juga bisa menonjolkan keindahan desain rancangannya dan Tex. Melihat nasib-nasib yang saling bersilangan dalam jarak yang begitu dekat ini–yang satu seakan menentukan yang lain, saya merasa bahwa kita semua; tak peduli di mana kita berada di dunia; sesungguhnya saling terhubung lewat miliaran helai benang-benang yang tidak kelihatan.

 

***

Persilangan nasib serupa saya temui kembali keesokan malamnya; ketika kami menghadiri fashion presentation Irakli di Centre d’Art et de Danse di Éléphant Paname–daerah yang terkenal sebagai pusat penjualan dan perancangan perhiasan tertua di Paris. Untuk saya, Irakli Nasidzé sendiri merupakan kisah mengejar mimpi yang mungkin juga belum berakhir hingga hari ini.

Ia lahir di Georgia–negara kecil yang berbatasan dengan Rusia, Armenia, Turki, dan Azerbaijan. Di tahun 80-an, jumlah penduduk di negara ini hanya 5 juta orang saja. Setelah lulus dari jurusan fine arts di Universitas Tbilisi, pada usia 23 tahun, Irakli pun menjejakkan mimpinya di Paris. Karirnya diawali dengan menciptakan bahan untuk rumah-rumah couture ternama seperti Christian Lacroix, Jean-Louis Scherrer and François Lesage. Lesage-lah yang akhirnya mensponsori Irakli untuk menciptakan dan memamerkan koleksi adibusana-nya sendiri di Palais Galliera. Baru di tahun 2011, Irakli meluncurkan koleksi ready-to-wear yang dinamainya IRAKLI Paris.

Malam itu, bersama para jurnalis fashion, fashion buyer dari rumah-rumah mode dan toko-toko retail ternama dari seluruh dunia, serta para penikmat fashion di Paris, saya mengagumi koleksi Irakli yang nampak segar, bersih, dan indah–dipresentasikan di ruangan yang berlatar putih dan dipadati dedaunan dan bebungaan. Cantik sekali dipadankan dengan warna-warna desainnya: biru, hijau, dan kuning.

 

“Potongannya bagus sekali! Lihat, dia bisa membentuk siluet seperti itu!” Sylvester berseru. “Susah sekali membuat potongan yang begitu rapi!”

Saya mengangguk saja–karena Sylvester rasanya memang lebih mengerti hal-hal teknis macam itu; dan saya percaya ketika melihat kekaguman yang memancar dari matanya. Sesekali, saya nyaris bertabrakan dengan Bram yang juga sedang sibuk berkeliling ruangan untuk mengambil foto.

Sementara Bram dan Sylvester mempelajari langsung bagaimana sebuah fashion presentation dikemas, mulai dari konsep, musik, pencahayaan, dekorasi, hingga pengaturan letak dan waktu, saya melarikan diri sejenak dari padatnya ruangan ke lobi depan. Di lobi inilah, dua orang pelayan menjaga sebuah meja champagne. Dengan sigap, mereka menyajikan, menuangkan, dan menyingkirkan gelas-gelas, sementara para tamu terus berdatangan.

Ah, bukankah semua orang selalu punya peranan? Buat saya, tak ada pemisahan antara peran kecil atau peran besar. Saya kira, peran kita semua sama besarnya. Yang satu takkan bisa berjalan baik tanpa yang lain bekerja dengan baik. Dan saya percaya, peran kita di dunia juga saling terhubung lewat miliaran helai benang yang tak kelihatan.

***

Saya bersyukur tak menjadi Sylvester dan Bram pagi itu.

Subuh di Paris adalah waktu ketika suhu turun semakin drastis. Yang paling nyaman, tentu saja bergelung dengan selimut di atas tempat tidur. Namun tidak demikian halnya bagi tim pemotretan yang sudah harus bangun pagi-pagi sekali. Para model harus mulai melakukan rias dan pengepasan. Sylvester harus memastikan bahwa riasan dan tata rambut sudah sesuai dengan yang diinginkan. Semuanya dilakukan bersamaan di dalam kamar hotel yang sempit. Di kamar saya saja–yang ditempati sendirian, seringkali saya terantuk kaki kursi, meja, atau koper sendiri. Jadi saya bisa membayangkan tantangan bekerja bersama beberapa orang di dalam sebuah kamar berukuran kecil.

Baru sekitar pukul 9 saya bergabung dengan Sylvester dan Bram untuk menuju Parc de la Villete. Tim pemotretan Michel yang terdiri dari sekitar 8 orang dengan kebangsaan yang berbeda-beda juga sudah bersiap di sana. Rangkaian pemotretan untuk hari itu pun dimulai. Michel banyak membantu Bram dan Sylvester dengan memberikan berbagai masukan selama pengambilan gambar. Sylvester dan Bram pun banyak berdiskusi–dan berkoordinasi mengarahkan anggota tim yang lain. Melihat keduanya bekerja keras hari itu seraya memberikan arahan kepada anggota tim dari Perancis, Rusia, Australia, dan entah mana lagi, ada rasa bangga menyelusup ke dalam hati saya.

“Ah, aku menyesal sekarang. Aku rasanya ingin belajar bahasa Inggris lagi,” ujar Bram, yang merasa bahwa ia bisa mendapatkan pelajaran jauh lebih banyak dan berkomunikasi jauh lebih baik jika saja ia berbahasa Inggris dengan lebih baik. Meskipun demikian, ia nampak baik-baik saja di mata saya ketika mencoba menyampaikan visinya pada tim pemotretan Michel. Bukankah yang kita butuhkan untuk berkomunikasi tak semata bahasa; melainkan lebih kepada upaya untuk saling mengerti?

Pukul satu siang, pemotretan itu belum menunjukkan tanda-tanda akan selesai. Seluruh tim itu justru pindah ke lokasi pemotretan berikutnya di sisi lain taman. Saya pun pamit dari sesi itu untuk berjalan kaki di bawah matahari Paris yang mulai bersinar agak cerah–meski udara tetap saja dingin.

Ketika malam harinya saya berkumpul kembali dengan Sylvester dan Bram untuk makan malam, mereka nampak sedikit lelah. Namun wajah keduanya mendadak cerah ketika mengetahui bahwa esok adalah hari bebas. Untuk pertama kalinya sejak menjejakkan kaki di Paris, tak akan ada jadwal apapun bagi mereka esok hari. Sengaja, keduanya diberikan waktu untuk beristirahat, tidur, dan memulihkan stamina–sebab esok lusa, mereka sudah harus berjibaku lagi dengan waktu dalam mempersiapkan fashion presentation Tex Saverio.

“Waktu memang jadi tantangan besar di sini,” kata Bram. “Jadwal di sini ketat sekali. Semua harus on time. Kalau waktu sudah habis, ya, walaupun merasa masih kurang dan masih ingin terus mengulik, ya sudah tidak bisa. Mau tidak mau harus selesai.”

Di Paris, pemotretan memang dilakukan secara disiplin, dengan jadwal yang sudah ditata rapi. Mau tak mau, jika rentang waktu yang disepakati sudah dilewati, pemotretan harus dihentikan. Ada banyak orang yang ambil bagian dalam pemotretan ini–memperpanjang waktu berarti menambah waktu kerja semua yang terlibat. Disiplin waktu ini menjadi salah satu pengalaman berharga bagi Sylvester dan Bram. Mental demikian penting dimiliki oleh mereka yang hendak berkecimpung di industri fashion internasional.

***

Pada jamuan makan malam itu, kami berkenalan dengan Waleed Zaazaa, kawan Michel–yang juga merupakan sebuah kisah perwujudan mimpi yang lain. Baik ZaaZaa dan Michel sama-sama telah mematahkan anggapan saya mengenai bayangan akan orang-orang Perancis yang dingin dan menjaga jarak.

Zaazaa yang gemar bercerita dan tertawa ini adalah seorang desainer asal Perancis yang pernah bekerja dengan brand-brand terkenal semacam Calvin Klein dan DKNY, sebelum akhirnya memutuskan melepaskan kenyamanan dan posisinya yang sudah cukup tinggi untuk mencari tantangan baru. Ia ingin merambah pasar ritel Asia lewat Singapura. Desember mendatang, ia akan meluncurkan concept store-nya, Manifesto, di sana.

“Untuk meluncurkan brand-mu sendiri sangat sulit,” ujar Zaazaa. “Hal itu selalu menjadi impianku sejak dulu–untuk mempunyai line sendiri. Jadi, aku tahu bahwa aku harus mencoba jalan lain. Dengan tetap berada di pekerjaanku yang dulu, rasanya aku tak akan kunjung beranjak untuk mewujudkan mimpiku. Lalu kupikir, aku bisa memulai lewat ritel. Ya, aku tahu, ini mungkin jalan yang tak biasa. Namun dari pengalamanku selama bekerja, aku tahu ada banyak brand yang berupaya keras untuk masuk ke retail store. Aku berpikir, bagaimana jika aku melakukan yang sebaliknya. Aku bisa membuka concept store yang bagus; sehingga nantinya aku bisa memasukkan line-ku di concept store-ku sendiri.”

Saya terpana mendengar penjelasan Zaazaa. Ia begitu berani (dan sedikit nekat) dalam mencari berbagai jalan untuk mewujudkan mimpinya–meski jalan itu jalan yang jarang dilalui orang. Butuh keyakinan sekaligus kepasrahan yang luar biasa untuk meninggalkan kenyamanan di belakang, kemudian mengambil risiko dan mempertaruhkan apa yang dimiliki demi mewujudkan sekeping mimpi yang tak pernah punya jaminan pasti.  Namun, saya yakin keberhasilan selalu menunggu orang-orang yang berani dan sedikit nekat. Orang-orang seperti ZaaZaa. Bukankah mereka bilang, magic happens when you’re expanding your comfort zone?

***

Dalam perjalanan, kau akan selalu dihadapkan pada pilihan-pilihan yang tak selalu mudah. Namun, ketika kau benar-benar yakin perihal arah yang hendak kau tuju, sesungguhnya kau tak akan tersesat terlalu lama. Sebagaimana keputusan-keputusan yang harus kau buat di tiap persimpangan, kau juga perlu memilah mereka yang akan kau ijinkan berada dalam lingkup mimpimu.

Habiskanlah lebih banyak waktu dengan mereka yang akan jujur bertutur tentang apa yang perlu kau lakukan untuk memenuhi impian-impianmu; mereka yang tak akan mendengarkan khayal dan bualmu, namun selalu ada untuk membantumu melakukan sesuatu; mereka yang akan membawakanmu segelas teh atau secangkir kopi hangat ketika terkadang kau tengah teramat lelah; mereka yang akan duduk diam bersamamu ketika hal-hal tak berjalan sesuai dengan yang kau inginkan; mereka yang akan melompat dan bersorak paling keras di hari ketika mimpimu menjejak tanah.

Jika kau mengenali mereka dalam hidupmu, berikan mereka sebanyak-banyaknya waktu yang kau punya.

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hanny
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DISCLAIMER: Beberapa waktu lalu, saya diundang meliput perjalanan dua pemenang kompetisi Go Ahead Challenge dalam gelaran Paris Fashion Week 2014; dengan tiket pesawat, akomodasi, serta uang saku selama perjalanan ditanggung oleh tim penyelenggara. Meskipun demikian, saya berangkat dalam kapasitas sebagai independent blogger yang berhak menuliskan dan melaporkan (ataupun tidak) mengenai apapun yang saya lihat, alami, dan rasakan selama perjalanan tersebut; tanpa sensor maupun suntingan dari pihak penyelenggara.

Passion is overrated. Yang jadi pertanyaan besarnya adalah: seberapa keras kau mau bekerja untuk impian-impianmu? Relakah kau tak tidur bermalam-malam demi terus menyempurnakan apa yang sedang kau ciptakan; absen bertemu kawan-kawan demi menyelesaikan sebuah karya yang selalu kau impi-impikan; menghemat lembar demi lembar rupiah demi kesempatan-kesempatan menghadirkan buah pemikiranmu jadi kenyataan? Seberapa tebal kulitmu untuk menerima penolakan demi penolakan, cibiran dan hinaan, atau pandangan sebelah mata ketika kau dianggap masih bukan siapa-siapa?

***

Pagi itu, Paris berwarna ungu dan abu-abu. Angin bertiup dingin, membawa gerimis yang berhenti sebentar-bentar, sebelum kemudian menderas kembali. Hari Minggu. Kota ini berdenyut terlalu pelan di bawah hujan: jalanan lengang, dan toko-toko yang kebanyakan tutup hanya memperbolehkan kami mengintip gelapnya ruangan di balik jendela pajang. Bersama Sylvester dan Bram, saya menyusuri trotoar Paris yang basah dan becek perlahan-lahan, mencoba mengusir rasa kantuk dan penat setelah penerbangan panjang dari Jakarta demi secangkir kopi dan sarapan hangat.

Seraya memasang topi Totoro saya untuk melindungi kepala dari rintik halus hujan yang terbawa angin, saya bertanya-tanya, apa yang sesungguhnya tengah berkecamuk dalam benak kedua lelaki yang kini telah menjejak Paris itu. Sylvester Basssang desainer, dan Ignatius Bramantya–sang fotografer. Keduanya baru saja menapaki awal karir setelah merampungkan studi; dan kini tiba-tiba saja, menemukan diri mereka berada di Paris untuk bekerja di belakang layar sebuah perhelatan internasional sekelas Paris Fashion Week.

Saya teringat kebahagiaan yang memuncak ketika dulu sekali, untuk yang pertama kali (tepat sehari setelah ulang tahun saya), salah satu tulisan blog saya difitur dalam kolom Freshly Pressed oleh WordPress. Atau ketika cerita pendek saya untuk pertama kalinya diterbitkan dalam sebuah omnibus dan bisa didapatkan di toko-toko buku. Jadi, saya tak bisa membayangkan bagaimana perasaan Sylvester dan Bram saat itu. Dari 30 ribu (ya, 30 ribu!) karya dari seluruh Indonesia yang masuk dalam ajang Go Ahead Challenge–kompetisi kreatif yang mereka ikuti–karya keduanya berhasil keluar sebagai pemenang. Dan kini mereka dapat bekerja langsung bersama figur-figur internasional dalam dunia fashion di Paris.

***

“Keluargaku memang suka memotret,” kata Bram–yang baru saja memulai karirnya sebagai fotografer di sebuah perusahaan media. “Ayahku sempat bekerja di industri media pada tahun 90an. Kami tiga bersaudara. Kakakku yang pertama bekerja di perusahaan periklanan di Jerman, sedangkan kakakku yang kedua bekerja di sebuah harian sebagai wartawan daerah di Jawa Tengah. Melihat mereka berproses, aku belajar banyak hal. Pendidikanku di film juga erat kaitannya dengan fotografi. Dengan fotografi, aku bisa mengisahkan sesuatu kepada orang lain.”

Malam itu, setelah hujan pergi tertiup angin dan hanya menyisakan dingin yang menggigit, kami berkumpul berdesakan di lantai atas sebuah restoran di salah satu sudut kota Paris bersama Michel Dupré. Ia fotografer fashion asal Perancis dengan bahasa tubuh yang hangat, mata yang jenaka, dan senyum yang mengembang. Melihatnya, saya langsung teringat pada tipikal wajah lelaki Perancis yang biasa saya lihat di komik-komik Eropa–lengkap dengan kumis dan rambut ikal sebahu.  Di sela-sela makan malam ala Perancis (yang bisa berlangsung selama 3 jam), Sylvester, Bram, dan Michel larut mendiskusikan konsep pemotretan, rencana scouting lokasi, casting model yang akan dilakukan esok hari, serta waktu terbaik untuk mendapatkan cahaya natural yang mereka inginkan selama pemotretan.

Ya, malam pertama di Paris sudah langsung mereka habiskan untuk mendiskusikan pekerjaan. Beberapa hari lagi, di bawah arahan langsung Michel dan timnya, Bram akan melakukan photo shoot di Paris untuk koleksi rancangan desainer muda Indonesia, Tex Saverio, yang akan disandingkan dengan koleksi Sylvester.

“Aku sangat terinspirasi dengan budaya Timur Tengah,” kata Sylvester. “Suatu hari, aku menonton tayangan televisi mengenai Islam, Timur Tengah, dan terorisme. Aku merasa ada sesuatu yang salah di sana. Aku melihat bahwa budaya Timur Tengah adalah budaya yang indah. Mereka yang berpakaian dengan gaya Timur Tengah bukan berarti teroris. Di sinilah aku merasa ingin menyampaikan sesuatu lewat rancanganku. Aku ingin mengangkat keindahan budaya Timur Tengah dengan menciptakan busana yang indah. Aku tak ingin orang-orang melihat Timur Tengah untuk hal-hal yang negatif saja.”

Saya tak bisa menahan diri untuk tersenyum ketika mendengar penjelasannya yang berapi-api. Terus terang, saya bukan tipe perempuan yang terlalu kerap mengikuti perkembangan dunia fashion. Seringkali, saya hanya melihat dunia fashion lewat sisi konsumerisme, kesinisan, dan keglamorannya–yang kerap dipertontonkan lewat media cetak dan elektronik. Mendengar Sylvester bertutur mengenai kisah di balik rancangannya, dan bersentuhan langsung dengan keramahan dan kehangatan seorang fotografer fashion sekelas Michel Dupré, saya merasa mulai memiliki pandangan berbeda tentang dunia fashion; dan orang-orang yang berkecimpung di dalamnya. Maybe it’s not such a bitter industry, after all. Mungkin saya memang sekadar perlu menambah referensi.

Keesokan harinya, ketika kami berkunjung ke Museum Louvre–dan hanya punya waktu dua jam untuk dihabiskan di sana (sesuatu yang menurut saya nyaris mustahil, mengingat betapa besar, luas, dan banyaknya koleksi museum itu); saya memutuskan untuk menggunakan sebagian besar waktu yang saya miliki untuk menelusuri satu sayap saja.

Tidak, saya tidak mencari Mona Lisa yang termashyur itu. Saya lebih memilih untuk tersesat dalam lorong-lorong yang menampilkan seni dan sejarah Islam. Rasanya tak terlalu kebetulan ketika kemudian saya dan Sylvester tiba-tiba saja berpapasan di lorong Egyptian Art.

***

Menelusuri kota Paris seraya merapatkan overcoat untuk mengusir dingin yang sesekali mampir, saya mulai dapat melihat kota ini dari sisi berbeda. Paris tidaklah selalu seglamor dan seromantis yang dibayangkan orang-orang. Kau masih bisa menemukan puntung-puntung rokok yang seenaknya saja dibuang di pinggir jalan, para pengemis yang mengerut kedinginan di trotoar dengan selimut koyak dan tulisan J’ai Faim (saya lapar) yang dicoretkan di atas kertas kardus, tuna wisma yang duduk di depan toko-toko besar dengan tas-tas plastik berisi pakaian bekas dan sisa-sisa makanan seraya memeluk anjing mereka, gelandangan yang berkeliaran di stasiun metro dan mendatangi orang-orang untuk minta uang–kemudian memaki-maki ketika tak diberi, anak-anak muda yang mabuk dan mengganggu orang-orang yang lalu-lalang di jalan, kakek-kakek dan nenek-nenek yang mengomel atau bicara sendiri keras-keras di tempat umum, serta bau pesing yang menguar di udara ketika kau berlari melewati lorong-lorong kecil.

Di sisi lain, kau juga tetap bisa mendengar sayup-sayup lagu tema dari film Amélie yang dimainkan pemusik jalanan selagi kau menapaki jalan-jalan berbatu di seputaran Montmartre, mencium manis dan renyahnya Nutella crepe yang tengah mendesis hangat di atas wajan, menepuk-nepuk kucing-kucing gemuk yang bekeliaran dari sudut-sudut yang nyaris tak kelihatan, tersipu memandangi mereka yang tengah bergandengan tangan dan melepaskan ciuman di sepanjang kanal Saint Martin, berpikinik di taman-taman kota dengan sebotol anggur, roti, dan aneka jenis keju ketika matahari sedang hangat, atau mengagumi gereja-gereja seperti Notre Dame dan Sacre Coeur yang dipenuhi burung-burung dan tersenyum pada dentang lonceng serta gita puja yang mengalun megah dalam keramaian.

Segala yang ada di sekelilingmu, sekecil apapun itu, bisa menjelma gangguan yang menyebalkan; atau inspirasi yang mengilhami. Orang-orang yang kau temui setiap hari bisa kau abaikan; atau kau sapa dengan penuh keingintahuan. Kau bisa selalu merasa punya jawaban atas segala sesuatu; atau punya pertanyaan akan segala sesuatu. Karena kau bukan hanya tentang mimpimu–kau juga bagian dari mimpi orang-orang di sekitarmu. Apa hal kecil sederhana yang bisa kau lakukan untuk membantu mereka yang kau sayangi mengejar impian-impian mereka?

***

“Aku nggak bisa menggambar,” kata Sylvester suatu hari. “Ini yang awalnya membuatku merasa tidak percaya diri untuk sekolah fashion. Tapi, lama-lama, aku belajar–dan memang tidak pernah hebat dalam menggambar, tapi setidaknya sekarang aku bisa membuat sketsa rancangan. Untungnya, kedua orangtuaku mendukung keputusanku untuk masuk sekolah fashion, bahkan mereka yang menyuruhku melakukannya. Awalnya, aku ingin sekolah kuliner dan menjadi chef. Lalu orangtuaku berkata, Kamu ingin sekolah kuliner? Masuk dapur saja tidak pernah,” ia tertawa.

“Awalnya, kupikir fotografi tidak akan bisa menghidupiku. Aku hanya senang bikin gambar saja, kok, dan tidak berpikir komersial,” ujar Bram. “Beberapa karya fotoku juga susah dimengerti oleh orang lain. Aku banyak berangkat dari kegelisahan pribadi manusia dan lingkungannya. Dalam perjalanan, aku mengerti bahwa pasar pun butuh seseorang yang bisa berpikir luas. Karena saat ini fotografi tidak lagi bicara hanya perihal teknis, tapi juga ide dan gagasan. Foto nge-blur pun sekarang menjadi hal yang sah. Bahkan aku pernah diminta Jakarta Fashion Week untuk membuat foto nge-blur dan absurd dari sisi art. Itu pengalaman yang menyenangkan.”

***

Sore itu, ketika Bram dan Sylvester memutuskan mendaki ke puncak menara Eiffel, saya memilih berpiknik di taman seraya menyesap cokelat hangat dalam gelas kertas; memandangi ikon kota Paris yang dari rerumputan terlihat seperti silang-silang rumit berwarna abu-abu gelap yang menanjak terus ke langit.

Ketika pembangunan menara ini berlangsung di Champs de Marts, sekitar 300 seniman, pemahat, penulis, dan arsitek, mengirimkan petisi kepada komisioner Paris Exposition. Mereka menuntut agar pembangunan menara ini dihentikan. Menurut mereka, menara itu menggelikan; dan akan membuat Paris terlihat seperti tumpukan jelaga raksasa. Namun, Gustave Eiffel tak peduli dengan banjir protes itu, dan kini Menara Eiffel dinilai sebagai salah satu seni struktural yang paling menakjubkan di dunia.

***

Seberapa besar nyalimu untuk meninggalkan penilaian orang-orang di belakang, lalu mengejar apa yang selama ini selalu kau inginkan? Seberapa tangguh kau menghadapi orang-orang yang berkata bahwa kau akan menyakiti orang-orang kau sayangi jika kau mengejar hal-hal yang membuatmu bahagia? Seberapa sabar kau menapaki langkah demi langkah yang bahkan kau sendiri tak tahu akan membawamu ke mana? Kau hanya tahu bahwa inilah yang selalu kau inginkan dalam hidupmu–dan inilah hal yang terpenting bagimu: sesuatu yang akan kau kenang tanpa sesal jika suatu saat nanti tiba waktumu. Tetapi, akankah kau mengambil pilihan-pilihan yang sulit itu?

Mereka bilang, jalan menuju impianmu adalah jalan yang akan membuatmu merasa kesepian di tengah keramaian. Maka, ketika hari ini kau berhenti sejenak dan memikirkan semua itu, apakah kau ingin terus berlari?

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hanny
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It happens. There are things we might lose during our traveling journeys–no matter how carefully we guard them all the time, no matter how cautious we are. There will always be something that slips through the cracks, they say. And just like everything else in life, when you lose something so dear to you, there’s this certain feeling of sadness and helplessness that envelopes you for quite some time. However, losing things (especially on your traveling journeys) could also provide a series of valuable life-lessons that may (surprisingly) release us from having to carry too many things in our lives. These are 6 things you might lose on your traveling journeys and what they taught you about living life.

1. Lose Yourself.

When you’re traveling alone to faraway places, where nobody knows you–suddenly, you feel that euphoric feeling of freedom hits you, really hard. At last, you are free from other people’s preconceived judgments about you! You are free to simply be you–you are free to do whatever you like.

You are free to lock yourself in your fancy hotel room and enjoying their clean and sparkly pool until your skin smells of chlorine, instead of walking under the vicious sun to the public beach. You are free to roam around the city until 3 a.m. with a bunch of guys from faraway countries you met at the hostel’s common room, bar-hopping in a country where people don’t really speak that much English. You are free to sneak your way into a wooden house by the paddy field–where people wear loose robes, beads, and crystals on their forehead, chanting mantras and swaying their bodies with their eyes closed, laughing and crying and screaming–and you’re watching them, asking yourself whether you’re supposed to laugh, cry, and scream as well. You are free to end up in a couch with a guy you have only known for 2 days, watching movies on his laptop before ending up kissing each other passionately.

Nobody knows. It’s your secret. As you’re losing yourself during your traveling journeys, you get a chance to know who you really are–no parents to tell you what not to do, no colleagues darting uncomfortable look your way, no friends asking you to do something you are not really into. You’re free to simply being you.

This will be your chance to see both your brightest side, as well as your darkest side. You will truly know how far you can–or want to go. You will know and set your own values, and rules. You will find out about your true boundaries–things you wouldn’t do even when nobody’s watching. You’ll know what you really expect from yourself, as a person; what truly makes you proud, and what disappoints you. You’ll have that opportunity to make the greatest mistake or write the greatest story of your life–and you’ll understand how important it is to live your life for yourself. Because in the end, it is your life. And it’s so tiring to keep on living it based on other people’s expectations upon how you should live yours.

2. Lose Your Belongings.

No matter how good you are in guarding your belongings, this will happen one day–that’s just the way it is. The airline somehow misplaces your luggage and it is on its way to Africa instead of Europe. Someone steals your wallet–and you do not have that much money left on your savings account. You forget about how you put your handphone on the grass next to your picnic towel when you leave the park empty-handed. The key to your hostel room is missing. Your laptop bag is–(or maybe now it isn’t) stranded inside a toilet booth somewhere downtown.

After being swept by a sickening wave of panic, unleashing your anger to the whole world, cursing yourself (and your stupidity), wailing uncontrollably, and pulling your hair out to try to get your belongings back–to no avail, you start to feel your frustration dissipates. And then, there’s this empty feeling in your heart–somewhat scary and somewhat promising, a certain feeling of knowing that you just have to accept the fact that you have lost your belongings, and that you need to continue living without them.

And then you start counting your blessings. You’re looking at what you have, and being grateful for that. You’re thinking about how you can use these things you have to survive–and moreover, to be able to still enjoy the remaining days of your journey. You need to be flexible. You need to change plans, be okay with that, and be okay with less. And suddenly, you realize that who you are is not defined by what you have; or do not have. That you can actually get by with what you have–or you will find a way to, as long as you’re willing to.

You start reaching out to people, swallowing your pride, admitting that you need help. You talk to a stranger, some locals, your hostel owner, your friends, your parents–telling them about your misfortunes and asking them if they would be kind enough to help you. That’s the moment when you know how grateful you are to have these wonderful people in your life.

3. Lose Your Way.

Would you tell me, please, which way I ought to go from here?”
“That depends a good deal on where you want to get to,” said the Cat.
“I don’t much care where –” said Alice.
“Then it doesn’t matter which way you go,” said the Cat.

Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland is a novel by Lewis Carroll

Probably you’re too excited wandering around the city. Or you’re taking the wrong turns, hopping on to the wrong bus, or getting off at the wrong station. Probably you lose your map. Or you’re simply bad with directions, just like me. There will be times when you find yourselves lost (what an irony!) in a strange country. You are trying to trace your way back to where you were, but it seems like you keep on going around in circles–the cobblestone path and the colorful walls transform into a confusing maze with dead-ends here and there.

You can keep going around and around and try again, and again, and again, or you can head over to someone and ask for directions. That’s how it goes in life, too. Sometimes, you need someone else’s help to show you how to get somewhere. And when you’re about to ask for directions, the best is to know where you’re heading or where you want to go back to. Only then, the person can help to point you out to your desired direction. There are times in life when you’re kind of floating in the middle, not sure where you want to be, but not wanting to go back to where you were before, either. Rather than trying to go around and around in circles, seek help, and ask yourself: where do you really want to be in this life? And it’s always a relief to have a place you can always go back to, as well. A familiar place that you can always call: home.

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photo credit: DC Ross via photopin cc

4. Lose Your Sense of Time.

You know those moments. When you lose your sense of time.

When you’re staying in a small town by the beach or a small hut in the mountains–those days when you have no plan whatsoever, no train to catch, no flight schedule to check, no boat waiting for you by the pier. You’re free to spend a day with yourself, doing nothing and everything at the same time. These are the days when you grab your favorite book, go to the beach and read all day long under the sun, dipping yourself in the sparkling sea when the heat becomes unbearable, having a nap with the sea breeze caressing your face. It’s one of those spontaneous days you spend with your local crush. A bunch of people with different nationalities you have just met at a local club. Your lover.

You have no idea about the time of the day. You wake up when you feel recharged. You eat when you feel hungry. You drink when you’re thirsty. You move your body when it feels stiff. You sip a beer when you feel like it. You let your senses tell you what you’re about to do instead of looking at your watch to follow a set of routines.

It’s one of those days when you go to a cooking class, learning how to make batik, taking a silversmith course… and you’re so immersed in absorbing these new lessons, enjoying each and every moment as you try to follow the instructions, giving 100% of your heart and mind into what you’re doing… and the next time you realize it, the time is up! Or it’s already sundown! You wonder, where does your time go? How come it goes away so fast?

These are the days when you’re enjoying life as it is. You’re enjoying what you do–or what you do not do. You’re enjoying the things you learn, the people you meet, the feeling you feel. Even when it seems like you’re ‘doing nothing’, you’re simply enjoying it. You’re not forcing things, you’re flowing genuinely and gracefully through it. They say the time you enjoy wasting is not wasted time. How wonderful it is if we can live our lives this way, every single day, appreciating and enjoying each moment that passes us by–knowing that no matter what we do (or do not do), we are living a life without regret.

5. Lose Your Prized Possession.

Maybe it’s a lucky charm. A favorite photograph of your late parents. A special scarf given to you by a lover. An old teddy bear. A memento from your most memorable trip. These are the things you bring with you wherever you go, like a security blanket. They may not be something precious for others–but they are things that are so precious and dear to your heart. They are your prized possessions. They carry memories from times you can’t go back to; faces from people that pull you in like gravity, nostalgia from a somewhat familiar smell and scent, and a sense of security.

But there are days when somehow, you lose it. Usually, you do not know how you lose it–because it’s something you have always guarded ever-so-cautiously, more than the rest of your belongings. It may take hours or days before panic creeps in, and you start looking for your prized possession–your heart thumping–only to realize that it’s gone. It’s nowhere to be found.

Losing your prized possession taught you about releasing your dependency on various things or circumstances outside of yourself. To know that no matter how careful you are, there are moments when things will fall apart. When you’re attaching yourself to something, you’re being dependent on it. You feel as if it makes you ‘complete’. Thus, subconsciously, you’re preparing yourself to be ‘incomplete’ when that something is taken away from you.

You can’t rely on things outside of yourself to make you feel better or happier. You can’t keep replaying old memories to make you feel loved or worthy. One day, there will be times when you just have to stand your ground on your own and face the reality; no matter how cold it is. Releasing yourself from dependency is knowing that you’re the only one who can transform that cold reality into a warm fuzzy place of your own.

6. Lose Someone.

It’s indeed the most painful. You can “lose” someone that doesn’t come with you on your journey in the first place, like a parent, a best friend, or a boyfriend: the people who stay where they are when you hop on yet another plane. They may not understand, why you need to keep going and moving around, and why you still have somewhere else to go to after all those traveling journeys you have done. They may feel like they can’t keep up with you; or that they need someone who stays–instead of someone who is constantly leaving.

You can lose someone on your journey, too. Saying goodbye to a local host that has become like a sister to you after a month. Waving to a fellow traveler you have grown to fall in love with–not knowing whether the two of you could ever see each other again. Or deciding to part ways with a boyfriend you’re traveling with–as the journey you’re embarking on uncovers various sides of your personalities that simply doesn’t serve both of you well anymore.

And you will lose someone. It’s bound to happen, and it’s inevitable. The people you’re closest with right now, yes, you will lose them as well eventually. It’s just a matter of how, when, and where. The people we meet are delivered into our paths to impart their wisdom and help us grow. There will be times when their ‘task’ is done and both of you need to move on.

As sad and depressing as it may sounds, the silver lining is that by knowing this, you will stop taking them for granted. You will stop waiting for the “right time” to say something to them, or to do something for them. You will be asking yourself why they are sent into your lives–and why you are sent into theirs, and as a result, being even more present and mindful when you’re interacting with them.

You will realize that whatever it is you have with them today, it is only temporary. Seize every moment and be real with your closest ones. Life is too short to be spent playing games–to postpone expressing your feelings and affections until you feel more secure or deserving; or to be spent competing for power and dominance. Whatever comes out of you, let it comes from a place called Love.

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“I think I’m going to move to Ubud for a while, maybe for 3-6 months,” I typed on my WhatsApp.

It was a cloudy Monday morning in Ubud. I was sitting cross-legged on the front porch; trying to decide whether I would go for a swim or not before meeting Alfred later in the afternoon.

Ubud, Bali

My phone vibrated.

“Moving to Ubud? And doing what?” Alfred’s words popped up on my screen.

“I don’t know,” I typed back. “Writing my book…”

An emoticon laughed at me. “Seriously?!!” Alfred replied. “Who the heck wrote a book in Ubud? Even Elizabeth Gilbert didn’t write her book in Ubud!”

And of course, he was right.

***

I decided to spend 2 weeks in Ubud; thinking that I would finally have the time and solitude to write The Book. These past few months, I had restrained myself from publishing any posts from my traveling journeys in Malaysia, Yogyakarta, Flores, and India–simply because this tiny (annoying) voice in my head kept saying: “Don’t post them now! Those stories will appear later in The Book!”

The Book is supposed to be my first non-fiction book: a travel memoir–and I have everything I need to finish it: a title, a premise, a rough outline…I even had almost 80% of the stories typed. All I need to do is type the rest of it, rewrite some parts that don’t come out as strong as I intended and organize them to create a flowing narrative of 297 pages. It sounds so simple and easy, yet I had missed my deadline. Twice. I have no excuse, and I don’t intend to start finding one.

Every day, as I woke up to the sound of the morning in Ubud, I told myself that I needed to sit down and wrote a few pages for The Book, today. I needed to create my own Ubud’s book-writing timeline and stick to it.

I ended up doing everything but writing The Book.

***

Ubud kept me busy.

I bumped into some old and new friends (who happened to know each other)–and spent some days conversing with them on the back porch while munching on mangosteens. There were some days when I was on fire: typing around 6 proposals for several movements and social projects that I was about to pursue, as well as making business plans for some friends of mine–just because I felt this rush of enthusiasm and inspiration needed to find an outlet.

There were some days when I didn’t really have anything to do. And for some unexplainable reasons, on those kinds of days, I kept bumping into people who practiced Reiki, spiritual healing, channeling, or yoga… to one point whereby I met a friend of a friend, and somehow ended up in a house full of statues and crystals by the rice fields near Penestanan for a kundalini meditation session–all the while asking myself, “What the heck are you doing, exactly?” and immediately answering back, “This could be an interesting story for The Book!”

When I didn’t bump into those interesting flocks, I went out for coffee or some healthy meals in one of those organic restaurants sprawled around the town; then walked around aimlessly for around 2 to 3 hours–checking out different alleys and shops and gelato bars, too lazy to even snap pictures. Other days, I would hang out with the staff at the hotel–conversing all night long by the pool while being bitten by mosquitos, listening to their life stories, and ended up explaining about meteors, eclipse, and earthquakes (“So, it’s not because of the dragon that is moving under the earth’s surface?”).

But most of the time, I would find myself sat lazily somewhere: reading a book, sipping watermelon juice, watching people, and then went back to my hotel–took a cold shower, wrote a long letter for my muse, and fell asleep.

It sounded like a vicious cycle, but the funny thing was: it actually didn’t feel vicious at all. I wanted to feel guilty because I didn’t touch The Book while I was in Ubud, but I just couldn’t.

***

It has been around a month since I got back from Ubud, and this week, I started to revisit The Book again. I realized that a ‘rough outline’ I have at the moment was not enough. This time, I committed to tightening it, restraining myself to edit (and re-edit) my stories before I could get that nice flow of narratives mapped out in a final outline.

It was not an easy task. To be honest, I hate making outlines–especially detailed ones with so many bullets and sub-bullet points. I always think of myself as a ‘spontaneous writer’ and outlining just doesn’t work for me. However, deep down inside, I know that I won’t go anywhere if I am still unsure of where I should place my stories on The Book. I can keep on rewriting and rewriting and rewriting and it will never get done. The stories will simply get lost somewhere in the middle of it all.

Ubud

And then it hit me. Right there. When I thought about ‘getting lost’.

I laughed at myself for a while, as I realized that ‘getting lost’ was actually my way of exploring a city when I travel. I am too lazy to read a map, I am not good at remembering routes (too busy noticing the small things along the way), and I get disoriented quite a lot–to the point that I could even get lost in a big shopping mall. I don’t plan things. I don’t keep a list of places I want to see. I don’t aim for landmarks or museums or souvenir shops. I just… go.

Now I know why mapping out The Book’s outline feels so darn hard since the very beginning.

Walking around aimlessly, not really heading anywhere, and letting the city I visit opening itself up to me as I get lost in it–that is how I travel. And The Book, indeed, is my travel memoir.

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One of the reasons why I love second-hand books is this: because sometimes–when I get lucky, I’ll find one with hand-written notes inside of it.

I am always fascinated by such random collision of lives; knowing that the book I am holding once belong to someone else; given as an act of love by the people who are/were close to their hearts. Reading those hand-written notes, I can’t help to wonder who these people are, what are their stories, and why those books find their way to greet me in some random bookstores in different parts of the world.

So, I guess the idea has been occupying my mind since then, leaving me questioning:

“What will happen when you leave hand-written notes: a poem, a prose, a flash fiction–anything that is close to your heart, to be found by random strangers?”

***

Last Saturday, together with my soul-sister, Ollie, we decided to find the answer to that question. And today, we come up with TheTravelingWords. It’s an idea that I have discussed with Ollie a few months back, but I guess an idea will always be an idea unless it is being executed. So, here we are now, inviting you to initiate connections with strangers by leaving hand-written poem/prose/flash fiction–or anything that is close to you heart, in various places.

“When you are traveling, carry your words with you. When you are not traveling, let your words travel for you. Magic happens when we let words travel.”

This November, we invite people to leave their hand-written notes with the theme “Distance” in a coffee shop. They can actually write their notes on the back of their bills and leave it on the table when they have finished their coffee. If the coffee shop have a tip jar, they can also put your notes there. They just need to put TheTravelingWords.com on the bottom of their hand-written notes (they can also put their names/contacts if they like), and send the pictures of the notes where they left it to us. We’ll showcase them all on the site, so that people who found their notes would know what this is all about! 🙂

***

Personally, coffee shop (especially tiny ones) is a place that is close to my heart. I spend many times there, sitting on the table far from the busy counter, writing some random lines on my notebook while watching people and sniffing the lovely smell of fresh-roasted coffee beans. I always find it amusing to leave something for the barista or the waitress… just to brighten up their day a bit more–especially when they are about to clean the table.

I guess now I have a stronger reason to do so.

More about TheTravelingWords can be found here. Let’s get our words to travel and touch lives! 🙂

It’s something about closing your eyes
and trying to forget something you
have always remembered.
It’s something about chasing
the feelings that burn the back of
your eyelids, knowing that it
comes from something unrequited.
It’s something about running towards
someone else’s back as they’re
walking away from you, leaving
all your whys unanswered.

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My dear friends, Adam and Susan (an awesome traveling-couple from an awesome travel blog PergiDulu.com) were calling for pictures and stories about “roads and streets” from random people’s traveling journeys. Indeed, traveling is about ‘the road’ that you take.

Karachi, Sindh, Pakistan.

Surprisingly, my mind instantly went to the street-side of Pakistan. After all the news reports I heard about bombings and killings and everything else, I was amazed when a bajaj driver flashed a friendly smile to my camera and made a peace sign with his fingers as I passed him on the street. I was mesmerized to see the bustling city; full of lights and laughter, when a friend of mine took me out to the street for some sweets after midnight. I was touched when a cloth seller in Zainab Market told me how much he loved batik when he found out that I came from Indonesia. I was humbled throughout the journey. It was definitely mind-blowing. And from all the countries I have ever visited, I make the most friends in Pakistan. The friends I am still frequently in touch with until today. I love the country and would love to go back.

The picture above was taken on a street-side in Karachi, Sindh. Adam and Susan, this is my picture for you 🙂

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The foot of Mount Salak is only an hour drive away from home, and it provides a wonderful escape from town–or from the now-too-packed Puncak Pass area.

Mount Salak, Bogor

I always find it comforting, to be surrounded by greeneries, enveloped by silence, only to catch the faint sounds of birds, cicadas, and waterfalls. I ran away here one afternoon a few weeks ago with a friend, Martijn. A few slices of yellow watermelons, a pack of grapes, a carton of fruit juice, and Susan Wooldrigde’s Poemcrazy book were resting nicely inside my flowery canvas bag. My head was still spinning with the beautiful words from the book. I remembered one line where Wooldridge quoted Gary Snyde: poetry has an interesting function; it helps people be where they are. And suddenly, my world was bursting with pinecones, the smell of the leaves and the wet soil, the shape of the rocks, the changing colors of the sky…

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Mount Salak, Bogor

Martijn Ravesloot

Mount Salak, Bogor

I was sitting on a rock; dipping my toes into the flowing river, while Martijn went underneath the waterfalls. I was thinking about everything that had happened in my life lately: about hellos and farewells, and how curious was it that I kept stumbling upon random people who brought ‘messages’ for me and answered some questions I have pondered upon for a while through simple conversations.

Martin-Waterfalls

Waterflows

Water

Mount Salak, Bogor

I once wrote inside my black travel notebook: what if we think of everyone we meet on our journey as a messenger? What if we don’t bump into them coincidentally? What if they were sent to tell us something, to deliver a message, a lesson… what difference would it make if we stop, say hello, glance a smile, and make that connection? Don’t you think it would make you feel like you are never alone in this world? That every step you make is another chance to learn new life lessons? That everyone of us is, in one and another way, carry ‘The Prophet‘ inside, like that of Gibran’s?

Mount Salak, Bogor

BungaTerompet

Screen shot 2013-04-29 at 1.27.54 PM

Mount Salak, Bogor

Last evening, a girl on Twitter sent me a direct message, and asked, out of the blue, “What should I do when the person I care about decided to disappear?” and I found myself typing away: just pray for them to be alright, and to be happy. Maybe I was talking to myself or hearing myself asking the same question to my other self; this could be more complicated than understanding the flower petals and Fibonacci numbers–but such ‘creepy’ or amazingly coincidental things happened more often in my life lately (oh well, I never believed in coincidences anyway). When I came to think about it, I guess even our prayers (or wishes) define who we are and how we see the world. If you do believe that prayers have such a vast amount of energy that will resonate to the universe and being echoed back to you, you would want to recite beautiful prayers, wouldn’t you?

Mount Salak, Bogor

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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.

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