My trip to Indonesia

I sat on the floor where there was an electrical outlet. The only electrical outlet I could actually find within 100 meter distance. I took a glance at my watch. 4:00 PM. My flight was supposed to depart like 30 minutes ago, but they didn't even bother to tell us if the flight was running late. As I was going to look back at my laptop, I saw three middle-aged women shouting in Surabayan (a dialect in Indonesian).

"Yoh yaopo toh! Kok telat iki pesawate! Aku onok mitengg ora kenek telat aku! (Why are we running late? I have this important meeting that I have to attend!)" The oldest woman cussed at the flight attendant who now looked nothing but troubled under his all-smiles face.

"Maaf ya bu. Tapi ini kami baru sempat komunikasi sama awak di pesawat. Sebentar lagi akan landing pesawatnya dan kita akan bisa mulai boarding, (I'm really sorry, but we have just managed to establish a communication line with the plane crew. The plane will be landing in a short time and we'll be able to start boarding)" said the flight attendant with gentleness. If I were him, I would probably kick the old lady in the crotch. Twice. Ugh.

Just like how the attendant promised, the plane landed in a short time and we started boarding. As I started putting my laptop and charging cable away, I took a quick glance around the waiting room and saw that there were approximately 200-300ish people. All my hopes about sitting next to an empty seat were gone. I was never really the talkative kind of person in a plane. All I want in a flight was just a decent sleep, not a freaking psychiatrist trying to ask me where I was going and judge me based on what I wanted to do. I sighed and walked to the boarding waiting line which had become a 20-meter long line.

The wait didn't feel that long thanks to the novel I held in my hands and the iPod stuck to my ears. Before long, I was finally seated in the isle seat in a two-seats compartment. 34 A. The window seat was still empty and I prayed to whomever was able to hear my prayer to let that seat be empty until the end of the flight. Just as I looked up after praying, an old guy entered the plane. He carried two suitcases in one hand and a torn ticket in his other hand. He kept alternating his gaze between the torn ticket in his right hand and the top part of each seat to check the number.

Oh God, no no. Not next to me. Not next to me. God please no. Not next to --

"TIGA PULUH EMPAT B! (Thirty four B!)" His scream managed to pierce my ears which were plugged with earphones. Crap.

I had boarded far too many airplanes to know which passengers were trouble. And this old guy was nothing but it. The kind of passenger that I always avoided. The kind of passenger that was a bit too nice. The kind of passenger whom I knew would ask one question too many. The kind of passenger that reminded me of Adobe updater on my laptop, which tried to be nice but ended up as annoying.

He was fat (ahem I know I'm not supposed to use this word since I'm like a pregnant woman as well) and he seemed like he just dipped in a cologne. A cheap one. He stopped right next to me and put his suitcase into the overhead compartment above me. I gestured that I wanted to step out so he could get into his window-seat, but he didn't even bother. He slid in with his back facing me. His back was soaked and I reflexively gagged as his clothes wavered right in front of me. GODDAMMIT OLD MAN, how many bottles of perfume did you empty this morning?

It was by no means an easy task, but he managed to finally slide in and sat down next to me. Finally I could read my novel in pea-- He poked me right on my ribs as he extended his arms and shoved me his torn ticket. "BENAR YA TIGA PULUH EMPAT B? (Thirty four B, right?)" I could feel he was trying to keep his voice as low as possible, but even his lowered voice was nothing to sneer at. I took a look at his torn ticket which had the number '34B' written in the top right corner of it and then pretended to look at the top part of my seat. I then gave him a quick nod accompanied with the most awkward smile I could muster.

I closed my eyes as I plugged in my earphones once again, lulling myself to sleep when I felt another poke on my ribs. "KAMU DARI MANA? (Where are you from?)" Okay. This has got to stop. I thought to myself for a moment and decided to play it dumb.

"Sorry, I don't speak Indonesian," I smiled and pulled my right earphone.

"OOOOHH.. INGGRIS YA? INGGRIS YA? (Oh.. So you speak English?)" His eyes widened as if he had never met someone who spoke English.

I nodded and gave him a look that said 'Did what I just say sound like Arab to you?' 

"OOOOHH. WHERE FROM WHERE FROM?" His grin extended from one ear to another as he waited for my answer.

"USA," at this point of time I had to recall what the integral of log x was in order to not burst out laughing.

"OOOOHHH AMERICA! NICE NICE. IN SURABAYA, WHERE STAY?" He raised his hand above his hand to gesture what seemed to be a turtle. Or a house. Can't tell.

"Citraland," I answered coolly wishing that he would just shut up or if he wants to keep talking to reduce his fat, talk to the window next to him.

Although these idle chatters continued for no longer than 15 minutes, it seemed like an eternity for me. Probably because I had to continue basking in his cheap perfume. Or probably because everytime he said something, his spit flew upon my face and I had to reflexively be a ninja to avoid all those spits.

It was finally time for us to take off. The seat belt sign above me lit up and altogether with it was an announcement to turn off any electrical devices such as laptops, cellphones, or iPods. Oh wait, the announcement was in Indonesian and I was supposed to not be able to understand it. So I kept my iPod on and plugged to my ears. And suddenly I felt another poke on my right ribs.

"NO IPOD NO IPOD," he shook his head rapidly as he glued both his index fingers to form a cross.

I smiled as I pulled my right earphone. "Thank you," I pulled my iPod out of my pocket and pretended to hit the pause button. My left earphone was still in and blaring with music. I'm such an asshole.

I closed my eyes and finally was able to get some sleep. I was expecting to be woken up by another poke on my ribs, so I was really surprised when I woke up to see a flight attendant (whose name, by the way, was Chiu Som Kok. I silently thanked God for not letting me be born in Hongkong) pushing a cart full of food. Like most Indonesians, the fat guy ate in peace. During this point, I stopped being aware about his cheap cologne. I didn't know whether I should be happy because it stopped bugging me, or sad because my nose started thinking that the smell was actually okay. I sighed deeply as I repeatedly stabbed my chicken and realizing that this would be the closest to breast that I would ever get (oops).

After countless number of fat guy waking me up and going to the toilet by ribs-poking, the announcement to fasten my seat belt finally marked the end of this long flight. The plane hit a turbulence and it shook like crazy for at least 15 minutes. When the turbulence finally ended, I could finally see Juanda airport. The carpet below me shook with great intensity indicating that they were extending the wheels, which was then immediately followed by a big clank and then a zooming sound (you know, the 'WHOOOSHHHHH' sound when your plane was trying its best to stop). It took us no longer than two minutes for the plane to slow down to almost a stop (but it was still moving slowly). As soon as the plane slowed down for everyone to stand up and not lose balance, everybody stood up. Okay, not everybody since I didn't stand up. But like 90% of the plane stood up. Even the fat guy next to me started punching my arm and kept on shouting "AYO AYO (come on come on)!" to which I would have replied "Oh hold on one minute, let me just break this window and we could definitely skip all this queue and go home faster than everyone else, you genius," but I bit my tongue in the end so I stayed silent and stood up anyway. Which, by the way, I had to stand up and do nothing for the next 15 minutes since the 'seatbelt'-sign was still on, and we weren't allowed to walk. Stupid fatguy.

The old women who complained to the flight attendant, the Surabayan-accent English, or an overly friendly fatguy. All those three didn't even remind me that I was actually home. When I saw everyone stood up before they turned the 'seatbelt'-sign off and when the fatguy next to me kept on hitting and telling me to hurry up, that's when I was reminded that I was home in Surabaya.

I'm home!

The dead, the living, and the in-between.

She was my aunt. My dad's sister. I wasn't really fond of her. In fact, I had hated her so much since she had always hugged me a little bit too tight everytime I saw her. And her hug always smelt like mint oil (or minyak kayu putih in Indonesian). I would always come up with a reason to not come to her house, and it had always ended up with my dad scolding me and me going to her house (this was when I was 10 year old. It was common for a 10 year old to hate huggers. Or at least it was for me).

Now I stood before her as she was lying on a bed. Her hair was barely black and her teeth were sparse. I could vividly remember how enormous she was when she hugged me, yet now if I were to hug her, she seemed like she would shatter anytime. It was as if I absorbed her height (and fat in general, but let's not get into it). Her arms were wobbly, I could make out her bone as her skin and meat (or what's left of it) dangling out of it.

Her eyes wandered from each corner to every other corner. She seemed to not be able to find what she was looking for. When she saw me, her gaze pierced right through me. She wasn't looking at me. No -- she would if she could, her eyes gave up on her and she couldn't see me. I, and everyone else around her, were invisible to her. She looked at my general direction and gasped for air as she opened her mouth.

Her words were scarce and barely audible. Stuttering didn't even begin to explain how she sounded. I looked around, trying to find anyone who could decipher what she was trying to say. But everyone I saw shook their heads. So I looked back at her, held her hands and smiled.

"... shun feng," I could finally pick off something among her sobs. She was crying before I knew it.

I hated Chinese language, so I didn't even bother learning it. But what she said was something that I heard so much since I flew a lot. So much that I didn't have to listen to the whole part to know what she wanted to say.

Yi lu shun feng.

Safe trip. Have a safe journey. May the wind guide you.

To say I was stunned was an understatement. I swore I wouldn't cry anymore after I broke up with my ex like 4 years ago, and I hadn't cried ever since. I guessed I'd need to make an exception for today.