The World of Mine

The Blue Ring

Sun, 08 Nov 2009 09:39:37 +0100

This is a short story I wrote during my high-school time, about 10 years ago (gee, i'm so old now). I've posted it in this blog and the creative-writers blog before, but recently edited it again for the nth time after receiving an input from an interested reader (thanks to u!). This story is a mere fiction, but influenced me a lot that it changed me into a rather gloomy, aloof and dark person, resembling the dispositions of the main character. Happy reading it, your comments are most welcomed ...

The Blue Ring

The western sky is getting reddish when you arrive. Dozens of birds fly away, surprised by your coming.

You stand-still for a moment, and then sit down at your favorite place, from which you can see the sun going down beautifully, while the reflection of its golden light is dancing on the clear lake surface.

You used to hate the soaring hill across the lake. You deemed it as a mere blockade to your sight, preventing you from following the movement of the sun. But, now, you’ve seemed to start to understand that without the hill, this place would have not been the place you knew.

You gaze straight ahead. The crimson sky before you used to be the natural phenomenon you loved the most. But now, every time you see it, your heart cries. You miss those times so much; those very precious times to you, which you knew you could never find back.

Your stare is empty. The pictures of that past appear one by one in your mind. Then you laugh, recalling the first time you met Erik. You were here, all alone as you used to. Those you called friends again left you. You were just about to weep over it when out of nowhere he suddenly showed up. He was at your age, around 15, and was seemingly a newcomer at the neighborhood. You had never seen him before. He had sandy hair and a pair of light blue eyes, which were so cheerful and frank you had never seen anything alike before in your life.

He seemed like a mischievous, fearless boy. He knew nothing of you yet was very eager to make you talk. But, that time you were too angry to reply him. You thought, ‘Who the hell is he? He doesn’t even know me, how dare he teases me!’ So instead of saying anything, you gave him scornful look in the eyes, the most indifferent look you could ever show a person. But, even that look failed to discourage him. He ignored it and kept teasing you, and in the end successfully made you burst. You shouted at him, telling him to go away and disappear, but as he did not listen you decided to leave.

Now your eyes move toward the glittering surface of the lake. You smile, remembering that afterwards you became close to him instead. He was a very cheerful boy; enthusiastic about so many things. You never saw him sad nor laden with anything. He liked telling you stories. He told you about lots of things, and encouraged you to do many things. He told you about his favorite books, movies and music; about distant places he had once been in or those that he wanted to visit, about great people, about his dreams, and all other things. Yet he was, too, a good listener. When you spoke, he listened to you carefully; always seemed to be interested in everything that you said, prompting you to talk longer and more often than you had used to. His lively, earnest nature shone a light into your gloomy heart. His laughter, noisy talks brought a life into your inert soul. He is the best thing that has ever happened to you.

You take a deep breath, staring down upon the yellow, knee-high grass encircling your legs, and then upon dozens of marble-size gravels gathering nearby. You reach out your hand and pick up some of those gravels, and then slowly you rose. You walk closer to the lake shore, and one by one begin throwing the gravels into the lake, a game you often played with Erik. He was never bored to challenge you to defeat him, saying that just because you were a girl, it did not mean you could not throw the gravels better than him. “See, you’re getting better,” that was what he always said, though you never did defeat him. Erik’s throws were really far. Combined with the help of his muscle, he had that special technique that made the gravels bounce several times before plunging into the lake. He taught you how to do it, but you never really paid attention because you considered it unimportant.

But, that was seven years ago. Now you’ve grown taller, your arms have longer stretch, and you are definitely stronger. And, on top of all, you’ve learned well the technique.

So now you hold the last gravel on your palm tightly, fixing your eyes at the middle part of the lake, and, with certain movement on your arms, throwing the gravel away.

It bounces a few times before plunging into the waters. You cheer up at once. That is another magnificent throw of yours. None of Eric's, you believe, could ever defeat that. You laugh heartily, your eyes sparkle with light. In your heart you say, 'Look, Erik! Look! Isn’t that such a throw? See? I can defeat you easily now.'

Then the evening wind blows softly upon your face, upon your neck-long dark brown hair, making you shiver. The wind then heads to somewhere else, but it has earlier prompted within you a memory you wish to forget. It was when Erik was talking to his mother in their kitchen. You accidentally heard it when you were about to come in from the already opened back door.

"No way, Mom! I don’t want to go to the hospital. You can’t make me! I won’t stay there!" it was Erik, shouting at his widowed mother; a beautiful young lady who somehow always looked sad.

"But, Honey, we must give it a try. You should never speak like that; we should never give up," Erik mother replied. There was a tremble in her voice as she spoke. And now you thought you heard her sobbing faintly.

"But, Mom, it's useless..." Erik softened. "You know it will be useless; I will never get mended. Whatever they do, Mom, forcing me to drink all those medicines, take all those injections, and taking my blood over and over for the stupid tests… you know in the end I'm gonna die anyway. That‘s what the doctors said."

Erik's mother cried at once, while you… you couldn't help but feeling stunned.

What is this all about that Erik has to go to hospital, and the medicines and the blood tests? What is it all about that he’s going to die? He couldn't be dying; that is nonsense. He looks all right, he looks very healthy. He couldn‘t be dying. What kind of stupid disease he may ever suffer from? It couldn't be it; it couldn't be it. Those were all things engrossing you as you stood silently behind the door. You refused to believe in what you just heard, but your conscience told you that it was true; that something was going on. Tears began rolling down on your cheeks. You heard Erik and his mother continue their conversation, but you could not eardrop it any longer. You abruptly turned around and stepped down the stairs, and that was when Erik saw you and called you.

But, you ignored him. You fled and ran fast, though you were not sure where you were heading to. Eric ran after you, asking you to stop while continually saying that you misunderstood. But, you knew that was not true. You knew he was trying to lie.

The sky is getting dark. You remember the last time Erik took you here. The night was falling down like now, and the disturbed birds flew away when you and him arrived.

He talked much; throwing jokes and telling stories as usual, as if nothing was going on. He didn’t care that you were speechless all the while, only after you continued doing so for another half an hour that he finally spoke up.

"Yes, I'm sick; I’m not as strong as you thought. I'm sick; very very sick and weak. Pathetic, aren‘t I?" he shook his head and, without waiting for your reply, added,

"But, well… can we just forget that? Can we just pretend that there's nothing wrong, that everything is business as usual? Have you ever heard that people will feel sick if they think they are? And for that reason I don‘t want to think nor be reminded that I am sick."

After he said that, he walked closer to the lake. He stared emptily at the waters a second or two, and then after taking a deep breath, he looked brightly at the hill, at the wood on the other side of the lake, and then up at the darkening sky. He enjoyed the evening wind, closing his eyes as he inhaled the air and let the wind blow upon him.

Then he bent down and took some gravels. As he started throwing them into the lake, he again began to talk.

“I've always told you I want to be a great architect. But, I haven't told u, have I, about my biggest dream project?" he stopped there, thinking, before continuing,

"I want to build these skyscraper towers. No, it won’t be just one. It will be connected triplet towers; all have same height and shape. And they will be the tallest buildings on earth, with a triangle bridge connecting each tower…” and there he went on, describing every detail of his dream buildings passionately, did not care whether you really listened.

And at the end of his talk, he said, “I have had that dream since I was little, along with my dream to have adventurous travels around the world, to see new places and people. But, now, after I met you, they have changed a little; the dreams. Now I want to build the towers and do all the adventures with you at my side…” He closed the sentence with a smile, and most affectionate stare at you.

Now warm tears begin rolling down from your glistening eyes as you remember when you visited Erik at the hospital. It was the last time you saw his smiling face. He looked so pale and so weak, but still he smiled. He weakly lifted up his hand and brushed the tears on your face away as he said, with a tremble in his voice, “Hey, relax… I’ll be all right…”

You lift your head up and stare straight upon the western horizon. The sun has completely set down now. There is no more left of its golden light that produced reflection on the lake surface, neither is of the reddish twilight that just painted the sky beautifully.

You can’t hold those loads of tears any longer. Erik has gone. He died of cancer seven years ago. But, still, you cannot forget him. You keep reminiscing him this way. You cry and cry, and let yourself lost in your neverending sorrow.

Duane, don’t you know how pathetic you are? When will you stop doing this? The sun does set, but can’t you see what replace it? They are the stars. There are hundreds of them. No, thousands; even millions. Look at how enchanting they are. If you only look up at the sky and see how they sparkle amid the dark of the night, you would find that one star; the brightest star of all. I’m sure, Duane, if the star were Erik, he must be trying to say this to you, “Shine, Duane, as I do. And one day show people that you can have all your dreams come true.”

Duane, I want to be your best friend. Stay right by your side through the joy and the pain, and cheer you up like Erik used to do. But, well… what can I do? I can perhaps stay around and feel your sorrow, but you can’t even hear me as I am only an inanimate object. I am just a blue ring that you’ve been wearing on your right ring finger.

Comments

The Rain Poem II

Tue, 06 Oct 2009 06:08:01 +0200

I like watching the rain drops
I like watching how they fall from nowhere in the sky and then on the rooftops
I like watching the drops gathering with their kind and then flow down onto the ground
I like watching how soil and grass look browner and greener after the rain falls on them

I like the sound of the rain drops
As they race to hit the rooftops
I like how the rain sounds approaching, distancing and returning
as the wind blows them everywhere it likes
I like the sound of the wind coming with the rain
And I like how it blows upon the trees, making them shake under the rain

I like how the wind feels on my skin
As they pass through the opened window behind which I stand watching

I like rains to shower longer
Because I like how the clouds cover the sun and make days look gloomier
I like listening to the rain drops longer
Because they resemble the rhythm of my heart

I like how people run under the rain
And then find shelters somewhere else
I like how they stand waiting for the rain to stop
As they stare emptily at the tumbling raindrops

But I like it only when I'm safe and warm at home
When I only look at rain wetting the earth but not me

I liked dancing in the rain
But that was when I was little
And now that I have felt enough
I like it better to remain dry

Comments

Love Is

Mon, 21 Sep 2009 05:07:20 +0200

Love is you
Sweet and simple
Love is you
Beautiful and intangible
Love is you
Warm and tender
Love is you
As pure as the snow
As deep as the Pacific Ocean
Love is you
As dazzling as the stars
As tranquil as the night sky
Love is you
As soothing as the wind
As strong as a tornado
Love is you
As close as veins to a heart
But as distant as Messier 69
Love is you
A past, a present, a future
Love is you
An faithful hope
Love is you
A dream that might never come true

Comments

Gibberish

Thu, 03 Sep 2009 10:05:48 +0200

Whoa... I cant believe I really did not write anything for the blog nor for my diary (indeed, I still keep one; sort of) during the past month. I've been attacked by that so-called chronic laziness, equipped by an empty or messy state of mind or a combination of both.

I've been lost in the world of Korean drama and Japanese manga stories, a thing that I had never been before in my life particularly for the former; and the only thing that interrupted my distancing and disconnecting with people was my job.

Well, even while working I believe I appeared sort like a zombie because my soul was hardly in the same place with my body. It was lost in that world of fictions.

Gosh, don't you think I was in a complete mess...?

I'm kinda recovering now; that's why I begin writing here again. But as I haven't fully recovered yet, you can see that now my writing is rather pointless; there's no exact theme or else, that's why I name it "Gibberish".

I will talk about everything; whatever comes first in my mind. This is called a free writing, one of the senior editors once told us.

I'm just trying to restore my crave for writing, that's why I do the free writing; better than writing nothing at all.

Why was I in a mess?

Well, it might be started with my losing for the third time my precious Samsung MP3 player, which is a very good gadget to digitally recording the speech of source persons. I have bought the U2, U3 and less than two months ago the U4 series, but I've lost them all in a row within mere two years; all for rather stupid causes, because of my carelessness.

The last loss is the most inflicting because it is the most expensive and I had only kept it for a little longer than a month.

I was shocked, felt so stupid and wanted to shoot my head (this is only an expression, lol...). How could I lose those things so easily; like I have a lot of money... On the contrary, what made me more miserable is that because I'm in desperate shortage of money, in desperate need of salary rise and or extra job, which I couldn't have.

Indeed I dont agree with saying that money is not important and that what matters is you're happy. Those who say so I believe have never lived a poor life like mine and my family's. Of course being happy is important, but how will you ever feel happy and content when you always experience shortage of money while you need to afford your family, have to feed them and send the youngsters to school... Hmphh...

Anyway, let's stop talking about money, and let's start talking about Ramadhan... Well, I pity the fact that I dont welcome this Islamic holy fasting month as cordially as I did it in the previous years. My messy state of mind has contributed to this.

Ramadhan, nevertheless, has kept me from being lost too far in that insignificant fictional world. It has forced me to stay on the ground and to keep my wit.

It has also successfully replaced the sorrow that I had felt because of that stupid July 17 bombing in two U.S. hotel chains in Jakarta with a form of happiness, as everyone around me (the Muslims, of course) are welcoming merrily the month and suddenly turning rather religious. Those who don't do prayers in regular months suddenly do them during Ramadhan, and their facebook status are full of their cherishing for the month.

One even said that he wished Ramadhan was not just a single month, but along the year. But, I disagree with him. Why Allah made it last only for a month, well, I believe that has something to do with human's nature of a need of a momentum, of a need to do something different every once in a while; not just the same routinity for the rest of their life. The special one-month Ramadhan can fulfill that sort of need for most of Muslims.

Anyway, back to my messy state of mind, I guess it also has something to do with desperation. Indeed, desperations do you nothing but badness; I used to have managed to avoid it although I had seen no sign that my dreams would come true, but recently, due to three or four things, I indeed have to struggle a lot to keep being optimistic.

I guees I have to end my gibberish now; it's time to get back to work... Wish you all, who read this blog of mine, happiness... Never give up on your hopes; keep run after them. Just do it, just fly with all your might. Don't think about how far or how high you'd be able to fly; just fly until you reach your limit. In the end, you'll be in a place higher than where you are now.

- The End -

Comments

Yes I am a Muslim, but no, I'm not a terrorist

Fri, 24 Jul 2009 10:17:04 +0200

My friend wrote this on her facebook status: "The strange thing is that on the door of Ibrahim's house there is this sticker reads, 'Be a good Muslim or die as syuhada', says a TV reporter.

And so what? I once had a key ring with that writing on. Does that make me a terrorist? What's wrong with being a good Muslim? What's wrong with ending life as a syuhada? Syuhada is those who die when defending Allah; and they deserve Heaven."

Some commented on her status, all expressing agreement with her. In one of her replies, that friend of mine --herself a journalist-- added,

"... It is so pity that a journalist doesn't have a good sense on religious issues. He doesn't seem to understand what syuhada is and yet labels his finding of the sticker as 'strange'. Perhaps he assumes that syuhada is identical with people giving their lives up to commit suicide bombing. But we Muslims know that it is not..."

This friend of mine was commenting on a TV news reporting the condition of the abandoned house of a terrorist suspect in the recent hotel blasts in Jakarta, who was a Ritz Carlton florist named Ibrahim. Ibrahim can't be found anywhere after the bombing; his family and now the police are still searching for him. DNA test has confirmed that he isn't among unidentified remains of two suspect suicide bombers and a victim.

What the TV reporter was trying to say with that "strange" word –and what makes my friend pissed off-- is that the suspect status of Ibrahim can be as if confirmed with his having that sticker with “Be A Good Muslim or Die as Syuhada” writing on the door of his house, along with the finding of other "strange" things such as a Koran, some Arabic books, and other such stickers.

Regardless of whether or not Ibrahim was indeed involved in the much-condemned terror action, my friend made the point: now such Islamic attributes, quite common especially among young Muslim activists, have been recklessly used to justify whether or not a person deserves named a terrorist suspect. Now it is likely Muslims trying to show their devotion to Islam, including those merely bringing the Koran in their bags every day or having those stickers on, all deserve being suspected as terrorists.

The TV reporter isn't the only one who has done so; I've read such reckless connecting to "strange" things found in Ibrahim's house to his alleged involvement in the terror bombing in a number of online and printed media in Indonesia.

This is of course very upsetting to many Muslims, especially those who are trying to be a devout one; like me.

I wear headscarf and long loose gown that might resemble appearances of the or terrorist suspects or convicts’ wives (unfortunately!), I used to always bring a small Koran in my bag when I was a university student (not again now because I can't possibly reading Koran while running here and there after news), and I maybe a supporter to some of those reasonable sharia-based laws. But, does that make me a potential terrorist? No. Of course not! I, with all my heart, condemn any terror actions such as the recent twin ones in Jakarta. I even feel personally (and selfishly, actually) very inflicted with the stupid blasts because now people start staring at me weirdly again, as if I were among the terrorist group, and because I'm afraid it will again spur the Islamophobia and fail my plan to pursue a Master's degree in Europe (with the Embassy, for example, refuses to grant me a visa or scholarship because of my look-like-a-terrorist attire).

And what about my fellow Muslims, some of who might even show more evident Islamic attributes such as having stickers with that die as syuhada writing on their book covers or computers, taking part in rallies against the Israeli occupation in Palestine in front of the U.S. Embassy, or preaching about Islamic law or state in mosques?

Does that mean they're potential terrorists too, or very deserve being suspected as terrorists all the times?

I am presently working in what some may call a liberal environment; but I once had a pretty close in touch with those dubbed as conservative, fundamentalist or whatsoever communities.

I thus understand very well that these groups or these people, however conservative, fundamentalist they are said to be, will never do such things as terror actions like those allegedly committed by Al-Qaeda or the deviant-wing of Jamaah Islamiyah (which is believed to be involved in the July 17 bombing of Ritz Carlton and JW Marriott hotels in Jakarta).

They may be in support to jihad (holy war in Islam), or --as my friend did-- want to die as syuhada (martyr), but their understanding of the two terms is 180-degree different from that claimed by the terrorists calling themselves Muslims.

As most Muslims believe, they believe they can only do jihad and die as syuhada when they are indeed in physical battlegrounds; not at all in peaceful places such as New York, London, Jakarta, or Bali.

And they mostly very well understand that even during wars they are not at all allowed to kill civilians, women, children, and even enemies' troops hiding in houses of worships (the last of which because they are not allowed to destroy houses of worship including those belonging to non-Muslims, as well as not allowed to destroy trees).

Now compare that with the terrorists' actions, who have killed whomever they could kill --including women and perhaps children-- in places evidently not a battleground.

The terrorists, too, name their brutal actions a jihad, and perhaps believe that they have died as syuhada.

But, the first Muslim group and the terrorists are COMPLETELY DIFFERENT.

The so-called Muslim terrorists (if they are indeed Muslims) are merely a deviation, whose birth has been highly questioned among us Muslims because never in our history we’ve heard about such thing as Islam teaches about killing people outside the battlefield. Never in our more than 1,000-years of history we’ve ever heard that we Muslims are told to kill non-Muslims wherever we meet them (exception is again in battlefields, and there are rules to obey, too, here such as not allowed to kill women and children I mentioned above). In fact we’ve too well understand how our Prophet Muhammad (peace be upon him) had lived side by side with the Christians and the Jews along his ruling period in Medina, and so did his successors.

And that is why many of us quite believe that there must be some kind of conspiracy to slander the entire Muslims with this very sudden birth of the terrorists calling themselves Muslims and jihadists (since 2001, may I remind, when Al-Qaeda allegedly did the September 11 attack).

Now I understand that people, not only the bombing victims and their families and friends, must be traumatized with the terror actions. I myself am; I didn't even dare to go to public places such as shopping malls and theaters a few days after the recent Jakarta bombing (I think I feel better now, however, and am ready to immediately go to movie to watch Harry Potter!).

And the trauma might make it difficult for them to think clear, thus they can't perhaps help quickly associating people with the very Islamic symbols I mentioned above with possible terror threats.

I don't mean to tell security guards at hotels, malls or other public places not to check the belongings of us who might, because of the Islamic attributes, look suspicious. Please, check us all, but do it indiscriminately, because the real terrorists could be anyone of the visitors, though I believe they would be smart enough not to look Islamically to prevent suspicion.

But, please, don't continually see and treat us as terrorist suspects just because of the Islamic symbols. Don't generalize things; it won't solve problems anyway. And if mere Koran or headscarves can be dubbed a clue to examine whether or not a Muslim is a terrorist suspect or a potential terrorist, get prepared to search for the terrorist suspects among millions of Muslims in Indonesia alone.

Like Austrians, who wouldn't want to be called or suspected as an incest rapist just because of Josef Fritzl, or the homosexuals, who rejected possessive, jealous stereotypes just because of Verry "Ryan" Idam Henyansyah's alleged serial murdering; we, too, Muslims refuse to be linked with terrorism just because we show or pose some Islamic attributes as the terrorists and their families do.

And to the Indonesian authorities, if you mull to, as the Chinese government has been doing, imprisoning Muslim activists because you consider them extremists or fundamentalists or whatsoever and thus link them to possible terror threats, imagine you try to kill a fly with a bomb. The fly might die, but look at the destruction you make.

And the worst thing is if the fly is actually controlled remotely, and the very person operating the remote control is standing by your side safe and sound, laughing impishly at the evil work he's done.

The whole universe will condemn you, if the rest of human beings in the world don't.

Comments

When Jakarta is Again Under Attack

Fri, 17 Jul 2009 16:35:43 +0200

Another bomb explosion. As I write this at least nine have been killed and 52 others have been injured in Friday morning's bomb blasts at U.S. hotel chains JW Marriott and Ritz Carlton in Kuningan, South Jakarta.

The victims consist of both Indonesian and foreign nationals.

It is the first terror bomb again striking Indonesia after four years of peaceful period that just yesterday seemed to be gonna last forever.

But, it did not. Just after we begin to recover from the trauma left by the 2002 Bali I bombing, the 2003 JW Marriott bombing (yes it’s the same Marriott hotel), the 2004 Austalian Embassy bombing, and the 2005 Bali II bombing; just after the economy and national security are stabilizing; just after Indonesia manages to restore international confidence with the lift of ban on its flights to Europe; now another terror bomb strikes, slaughtering the innocents (at least in this whatsoever war against whatever) into pieces.

I am paralyzed; as I woke up this morning receiving an SMS from the press bureau of the Presidential Palace informing that the President was preparing to head to the bombing location.

'Gosh!' said I. 'What bombing?!'

I browsed the internet, checked the facebook status of my friends immediately, and found news that bombs exploded at JW Marriott on 07.40 a.m. and at Ritz Carlton on 07.42 a.m. and a few have been killed and dozens others injured.

I was preparing to go to the location, still fearing that another unfound bomb would explode while I was there, and thank God that another SMS arrived, telling me that the President decided to monitor the situation from the Palace instead.

He is now having a closed-door meeting with the National Police Chief, the State Intelligence Agency Chief, and the Coordinating Minister for Political and Security Affairs as I am writing this note, while waiting for his press statement.

… (sorry, interrupted because I had to listen to the press statement, follow the President to a hospital to visit the victims, and write news reports on it).

I wonder indeed; what the @#$^! is on the head of the bombers, whom the Police have now identified as suicide bombers (two of the killed victims are believed to be the bombers themselves).

The previous terror bombs were associated with that so-called Jamaah Islamiyah Islamic terrorist group (said to have a link to Al Qaeda), and that is pretty understandable as the Muslim world was just under attack with the US’ sending of its troops to Irak, which was later on proved as having nothing to do with nuclear issues.
(Not the terror bombs which is understandable, but their being associated with Jamaah Islamiyah).

Now although again many people immediately associate today’s hotel blasts with the extremist Islamist movement, it is hard to believe that any Islamist extremists were indeed involved in the attack, as they have now no reason to do so.

No motives. Nothing new happens in the Muslim world but the ethnic violence in Xinjiang, China, that has left 192 people dead, most of who were the Uighur Muslims. If this is the one that prompted the bombing in Jakarta, then it should have been the Chinese Embassy or Chinese-owned hotel chains that was bombed. But they are completely safe and sound.

Many people have now thus come to a conclusion that the bombing is very likely related to local issues, more specifically the recent presidential election that, according to several major quick count results, has brought President Susilo Bambang Yudhoyono (SBY) to his re-election for second term (2009-2014).

Indeed, the President himself finally said in his press statement that the bomb blasts were likely related to dissatisfaction over the result of the election. He said he had received intelligence reports revealing plans to disrupt public order as soon as the General Elections Commission (KPU) announced the election result, scheduled for July 25.

These are excerpts of his statement in regard to the bombing:

"There were these terrorists having gunfire exercise making a photo of me as the shot target," Yudhoyono said, showing printed pictures of two terrorists wearing black masks and dressed in black outfits directing their guns on the shot target and of a photo of him with a hole on left cheek.

"The intelligence also found a plan for violent actions against the law in regard with the election result. And there's a plan to forcibly occupy the General Elections Commission (KPU)'s office on the announcement day of the voting result.

"Then there have been statements saying there will be a revolution if SBY wins, that they want to make (situation) in Indonesia resembling that in Iran, and lastly that SBY shall not and cannot be inaugurated

"These are intelligence reports; neither rumors, issues or gossips. We've never opened this to the public but we've been following and monitoring the development.”

…

Whatever actually happens; whatever has actually prompted the stupid bombers to again launch their attacks, now Yudhoyono and his rivals in the presidential election, especially vice presidential candidate from the Indonesian Democratic Party of Struggle, Prabowo Subianto, are involved in heated debate over the President’s associating the deadly bombing with the election result.

Yudhoyono’s statement seems to direct the blame at Prabowo, and Prabowo’s camp accuses Yudhoyono of using up the situation to warn people not to show any rejection to the election result.

Which one is true? Let time tells, though maybe only God knows.

Comments

My Mind is an Endless Battle

Sat, 11 Jul 2009 12:00:54 +0200

My mind is an endless battle
Of weakness and might
Of hopes and desperation
Of euphoric happiness
and melancholic sadness

My mind is a constant clash
Of the rightist and leftist sides of the brain
Of reckless free will and a sense of responsibility
Of ill prejudices and reasonable judgments

My mind is a neverending war
Of instinctive decisions and complex calculations
Of unstoppable thirst for adventures and a wish to curl at home
Of immense wants of changes and keeping things more of the same
Of a need to be part of others and to be left all alone

My mind is an ever-flaring combat
Of determination to exist and to disappear
Of eagerness to lead and be a mere follower
Of a passion for fame and to stay out of the spotlight
Of ambitions to conquer and a simple wish to settle

O yes my mind is an eternal battleground
Of that perfect self-control and emotional bursts
Of deep serious thoughts and foolish light daydreams
Of unaffected skepticism
and a hundred percent naiveness

O will my mind ever flee the forever fight?
Of a willing to grow up and to remain a child
Of boyish traces and womanly desires
Of worldly impulses and heavenly hopes

How can a mind be so conflicting?
How do two lateral poles lie rigid in a soul?
How sometimes I wish to kill the inconsistencies
Yet the other times I dub them very precious part of me

My mind is an endless battle
Which perhaps I shouldn't be so worrisome about
To some extent it makes my world colorful
And without it I'd never be me

Comments

Indonesia to Launch "Visit Lombok-Sumbawa 2012"

Fri, 10 Jul 2009 15:25:24 +0200

West Nusa Tenggara’s Lombok and Sumbawa islands — renowned in particular for their marine tourism — look set to attract more visitors in the coming years, as they gear up for the Visit Lombok-Sumbawa 2012 campaign.

The Culture and Tourism Ministry’s director general for marketing, Sapta Nirwandar, said Thursday that West Nusa Tenggara province, located just east of Bali, would be a main focus of the ministry’s tourism programs in 2012.

The Visit Lombok-Sumbawa campaign will be launched by President Susilo Bambang Yudhoyono in Lombok by the end of the week to mark the beginning of West Nusa Tenggara’s preparations to reach its target of doubling visitor numbers to 1 million by 2012.

“We want to sell tourism in West Nusa Tenggara. We want to make Lombok an established center for the pearl trade and ecotourism,” Sapta said at a press conference in Jakarta.

Often dubbed more pristine and tranquil — and, arguably, more beautiful — versions of the neighboring Bali, Lombok and Sumbawa are home to myriad white sandy beaches and turquoise seawater, as well as rich underwater life.

Lombok in particular is a renowned center for pearl production and trade, and home to Mount Rinjani, the second-highest volcano in Indonesia and considered one of the best trekking spots in Asia.
The beauty and natural charms of the two islands, however, have been overshadowed by the worldwide popularity of Bali, due to a lack of promotion.

West Nusa Tenggara Governor Muhammad Zainul Majdi, who also attended Thursday’s press conference, said the plan was not to develop Lombok and Sumbawa as competitors to Bali, but rather as complementary destinations, to provide a more varied set of options to tourists arriving on the Island of the Gods.

He added his province was eyeing Middle East tourists, who currently favored Malaysia as a vacation
destination.

To lure these tourists, the West Nusa Tenggara administration has signed a deal with Dubai-based Emaar Properties, which will invest a total of US$26.6 billion in developing a colossal tourism project in southern Lombok.

Head of the West Nusa Tenggara Tourism Agency, Lalu Gita Ariadi, said the province had been enjoying a steady increase in domestic and foreign visitor numbers in the past few years. In 2008, visitor numbers reached 500,000, almost half of them from overseas.

With a new, bigger airport scheduled to open in 2010, the number of visitors is expected to grow more significantly.

“Our main problem this whole time has been the limited access to the islands. When the new airport opens up, however, we’ll very likely have to revise our target for visitor numbers,” Lalu said, adding the target of 1 million tourists by 2012 had not factored in the influx of visitors the new airport would usher in.

The only direct international flight to the area is from Singapore to Lombok.

Famous Lombok tourist spots include Senggigi Beach, the famous three Gili islands, the West Nusa Tenggara capital Mataram, Mt. Rinjani, Lake Segara Anak and southern Lombok’s Kuta Beach.

Tourist spots in the more secluded Sumbawa Island include Mt. Tambora, Moyo Island, Jelenga Beach and Maluk Beach.

*Note: While "The Island of Gods" Bali is of Hindu majority, Lombok and Sumbawa Islands are Muslim majority; so it is easier for Muslim visitors to find halal food in the latter. Maybe that's why the West Nusa Tenggara governor has more confidence about luring Middle-East tourists to these two Indonesian islands.
Btw, as this story is published here, the campaign has already been launched by the Mr. President.

Comments

The Blackberry distractions

Wed, 24 Jun 2009 14:48:13 +0200

Yes, I have now 24-hour access to the Internet. Yes, I get now notification every time a new e-mail arrives in all my three e-mail accounts' inboxes. Yes I am now always signed in in the YM. And yes, I can now update my facebook status and see those of my friends without having to even open my PC.

My new Blackberry 8900 (I've got free from my office, btw) allows me to do all the stuff almost without any interruptions (excepting when I try to browse, which I believe must be due to the slow GPRS connection --this is a major chronic disease of Internet connection in Indonesia btw).

This is more than I've ever wished for. Yes, I used to wish I could have intensive access to the Internet just a few years ago, when I had to go to internet cafes and pay between Rp 4,000 and Rp 6,000 (about 0.5 U.S. cent) per one-hour terribly-poor access every time I wanted to see my e-mail, send some, google and browse.

But, well, now after I am fully, 24-hour connected to the Internet, a new problem arises, and that is distraction.

Yes, distraction.

I can't fight the temptation to continually check my Blackberry, to see whether the red flash light on the upper right of the screen is on, which indicates a new email, or a new YM message, or a new BBM (Blackberry Messenger) message, or a new facebook notification has arrived.

No, I don't check whether there is a notification in the gadget every hour. I check it every minute! Every minute while the gadget is somewhere visible around me and while I am awake.

While I watch TV, and my Blackberry is nearby, I will every once in a while see if the flash light is on. And so when I read a book, write, eat, wash clothes or dishes, and so on ...

That is the distraction. The Blackberry notifications. Now it's a real challenge for me to focus and concentrate on one object for long because I always want to know whether someone sends me something.

I am now so easily distracted, and that is because of the Blackberry.

I remember reading an article saying that this distraction, difficulty to concentrate 'phenomenon' has begun attacking people who are addicted to facebook (I dunno whether it applies to other social networking sites).

I am not addicted to facebook; I've even started to leave it.

But, those email, YM, BBM notifications, etc ... have likely made me addicted.

I'm not quite sure either if it is an addiction, as basically I don't enjoy being distracted like that.

I'm suspicious this has something to do with early symptoms of obsessive-compulsive behavior. Of course I don't expect myself to suffer from such psychological illness, but actually I've always been suspicious I do in rather mild extent.

If my friend reads about this obsessive-compulsive suspicion, however, she will surely laugh at me, call me paranoid (another psychological disorder), and say that I again only recklessly self-diagnose myself, whose results have never been correct.

Whatever the case, I don't care. All I want is ending this stupid 'addiction' to Blackberry notifications and earn back my capacity to focus on things without having to necessarily turn off the gadget.

Comments

While Waiting

Fri, 19 Jun 2009 10:33:10 +0200

Waiting ... I am again waiting. Yesterday I wait for 1.5 hours, the day before I wait for 2 hours, and now I've been waiting for almost 3 hours, and will have to still wait for about 3 more hours.

I hate waiting. I remember asked about the thing I hated to do the most --when I was in elementary school-- and I readily answered with, "Waiting".

But now, waiting likely constructs most of my days. As a matter of fact it is a permanent, inseparable part --unfortunately-- of my job.

One of the editors at my office responded easily to this waiting stuff complains from one of the reporters saying, "Ninety percent of our job is waiting..."

Others said, "Well, what else do you expect? That's what we're paid for."

...

Indeed, when I began this reporting job, I thought it was all about adventures and meet, see and learn new things everyday -- just the right stuff for easily-bored soul like mine.

Later on I found, however, that adventures are just once in a while; maybe once in a month or lately even two or three months; and most of my days I have to unwillingly fill with waiting.

Waiting for the President to finish the Cabinet meetings, waiting for one or two of his ministers to address a press conference, waiting for some of the officials to be willing to talk, waiting for the events to start ... and so on...

It might not be a very big deal when you can do something elses during the wait. But often you can't do anything because the situations are just too messy to do something.

Of course I can chat with my fellow journalists, who are also forced to wait. But, you don't wanna waste your precious hours talking about unneccessary stuff every day.

Now I begin to think that this job is not that wonderful anymore, but, hey, I don't wanna go back to my past either (back to the pharmaceutical firms, I mean). Maybe I just have to be more patient, waiting for other adventures --the more exciting and great ones-- to come. Maybe I can find better things to do during the waits in the mean time. Maybe this is still better than being extremely overworked, which I also detest.

O, humans, are they ever satisfied...?

And anyway, these waits for source persons are in fact nothing compared with my more-than-10-years of waiting for that bigger thing.

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The Rain Poem

Thu, 11 Jun 2009 15:18:25 +0200

Rain...
Please come again
Please pour down upon the earth
Please pour down upon me
Wash away the dust and dirts on the overheated roads
Wash away the dust and dirts lingering on me
Bring life back to the dry deserted fields
Bring life back to the drying heart of me

Rain...
Please stop by
Ask the big gray clouds to stay
Don't let them just pass and swirl away
For the sun is burning too cruelly here
Melting down ice poles, boiling away waters
Evaporating tired and exhausted souls
The thick clouds bringing you with could be a fine momentary shelter
And the drops of you would quench the thirst of the dry brown leaves
That are dying to regain their greens

Rain...
Don't leave now, please stay longer
Remain light for the earth
Remain light for me
Don't turn harsh, don't turn into storms
And never allow the floods to come along
For if you do so I'll be surely hating you
And very soon I'll be missing the blazing sun again

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Boys are ducklings, girls are gooslings ...?

Wed, 10 Jun 2009 12:01:17 +0200

Look at Daniel Radcliffe and Rupert Grint when they just entered Hogwart as first-year pupils, and look at the way they look in the latest Harry Potter movie.

Or, examine the difference between Elijah Wood when he starred in "The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn" or in "The War" in early 1990s, and when he appeared as Frodo in "The Lord of the Rings" trilogy in early 2000s.

Now compare that with the difference between Dakota Fanning, Anna Sophia Robb or Kate Maberly when they just appeared in the big screen and when they were last captured in camera.

Sense any difference?

Well, I guess we all agree that in term of physical and more specifically facial appearance while the boys are -- pardon me – turning arguably rather disappointing or not as handsome as they have been expected to be, the girls are on the contrary turning even prettier.

The actors and actresses I mentioned above are not the only case; I guess you can also see such 'phenomenon' among other celebrities and people around you, and maybe even in you yourself.

And this applies not only on Americans and Europeans; you can see that too on Indians, Indonesians, Arabs, and so on (cmiw).

In Indonesian case my fellow Indonesians can perhaps identify the 'phenomenon' (I don't know what to call this) in local celebrities, such as Sherina Munaf and Derby Romero, Joshua, Agnes Monica, Eno Lerian, etc ... (feel free to fill the blank). While the girls are turning notably pretty or prettier from plain or just agreeable previously, the growth of the boys are rather if not very disappointing; people had expected they would have grown into fine-looking young men instead of deteriorating – once again in term of looks (I'm sorry indeed if I hurt anyone).

My friend tried to explain the phenomenon; she said boys are ducklings and girls are goslings. While boys grow and turn into ugly ducks, girls become beautiful charming swans as they grow up.

Well, after the situation is well defined, a large big question remains: WHY ... ?

Is that because girls turn more careful about their looks and thus spend more time to well care of their bodies and the boys don't (they rather let the weathers and surroundings do whatever the latter want on them) ?

Or because the growth of bones in boys, not like in girls, occur rather irregularly?

Once again, this is not always the case. But I guess I can say that this is most of the case however different your opinion and mine are of what constitutes a beauty.

I am open to any kind of theories and discussions, as well as protests and disagreements.

Cheers ...!

Comments

Writing Politics

Fri, 05 Jun 2009 05:07:44 +0200

I'm a reporter but am not quite aware of latest news, of what happens around me and throughout the globe. More specifically I'm a political reporter (i.e. that who covers political stories), but avoid reading political news as far as I can.

I have no interest indeed to force myself to religiously follow every development of political cases, as my fellow political reporters usually do.

Covering politics is not my choice; and having to get stuck with those issues --which are getting increasingly tense and immense during the period surrounding legislative and presidential elections buzz-- just makes me sick.

It is enough I do most of my days heavily labored in covering the intriguing, maddening political maneuvers. I don't want my leisure to be fulfilled with the stuff, too, especially when even my days off are irresponsibly cut for the sake of the political reports.

Who cares about politics? You cannot possibly love it when you gain no benefit out of it yet at the same time have to be heavily exposed to all kinds of intrigues, inconsistencies, cheating and attacking of one another devilishly in it.

Such as in the legislative elections, you previously believe that this political party deserves your vote because it seems clean, has good track records and consists of a troop of bright party members.

But that easy, when you follow their political maneuvers, you find that they are not as nice as you thought. They are intriguing, do disagreeable stuff, and turns very disappointing to your eyes.

Or in presidential race; you formerly believe that this candidate is better than the others, but you see then how he refuses to admit his defects and promises no changes.

I hate those who can only make promises but not fulfill them, but I also hate those who don't even think it is necessary to promise and at least try to make some changes.

Journalists specially covering certain issues, particularly those having done it for years, will either turn into experts in or become skeptical toward everything related to the issues.

Most of those I know are unfortunately among the latter.

I used to dislike journalists' skepticism, believing it was no other than their pathetic attempts to sound critical and appear no different to their peers. Becoming skeptical toward anything was likely the highest norm among journalists; that was what I thought.

But, now, after going through all the stuff myself; after my editors overwork me, cut my holiday right and add my work hours without compensation, and force me to be six days per week, fourteen hours per day exposed to the devilish, intriguing, maddening and hectic political buzz, and even tell me to alertly sharpen my ears for circulating gossips; I have unwillingly likewise turned into one of those highly skeptical persons.

It drives you mad writing the often very disagreeable stuff with your heart, writing how those human beings can treat one another so mean. So I learn not to feel and view, but only to think of how I can complete my stories soon, of how I can do them without sounding like siding with one of the parties or candidates, and of how I can get well paid with my own hard work.

Maybe not all politicians are rubbish. Maybe some, or even many of them are honest and dedicated politicians who indeed get involved in politics because they feel strong inner push to improve the management of this country.

But those intrigues blur everything. Quoting U2, I would say that "Now I can't be sure of anything. Black is white, and cold is heat..." in politics.

And instead of reading political news or watching political debates on TV, I'd rather spend my days off reading light novels or watch Spongebob Squarepants.

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Unforgettable Lombok (Travel Note VI)

Sun, 31 May 2009 16:12:07 +0200

My trip to tropical Lombok Island (West Nusa Tenggara province, Indonesia) last week was the first trip I organized myself along with 3 friends. We booked our own airline tickets and hotel rooms, planned our own tours, and decided places to eat and transports to use ourselves.

None of us are experienced tourists, moreover experienced backpackers; in fact this is the first trip we finance ourselves (priorly trips that we, especially I, made were always financed and organized by third parties for work-related matters). Yet I can say that I (I'd rather have my 3 friends talk about their feelings about the experience themselves) feel quite satisfied with the Lombok vacation. The only thing that is equally disagreeable to us is the fact that we could have no more than seven days there, which is indeed a too brief visit for such memorable place as Lombok.

Lombok is one of three West Nusa Tenggara's main islands. The two others are Sumbawa Island (renowned for its horses) and Komodo Island (the only place in the world home to those rare Komodo dragons). It is located just next to Bali, "the Island of Gods" which has become Indonesia's tourism icon.

While Bali is even more popular than Indonesia to outsiders (so they said), Lombok is not yet well-known among the international public. The island, however, has been dubbed the "next Bali" for its similar beautiful beach panoramas spread almost across its coasts and other potential tourist spots.

Lombok is even dubbed as being more beautiful than Bali, which has become so crowded and uncomfortable thanks to its international popularity.

Each four of us (I and my friends) have visited Bali; and after the Lombok vacation we share the same conclusion that Lombok is somehow more memorable than Bali. It makes us want to come again and again, unlike Bali does us.

The keywords are two: tranquil beauty and delicious cuisines.

Our Lombok tours were divided into three main areas: Senggigi beach in Lombok western coast, Gili Meno Island in offshore northwest of Lombok, and Kuta beach in southern Lombok (this is not that Kuta beach in Bali, though share the same name).

We spent our first couple of nights in Senggigi beach resort area, second couple of nights in Gili Meno, fifth night in Kuta Lombok beach, and sixth in Senggigi again.

Senggigi is situated 10 km north of Mataram, West Nusa Tenggara's capital, in which Selaparang Airport stands and a new bigger international airport is under construction (scheduled for completion in 2010). It is Lombok's main tourist center, consisting of a large number of hotels and bungalows of all budgets more than those can be found anywhere else in Lombok. It also has restaurants and small cafes lining the main street, Jl. Senggigi Raya (Jl. or Jln. is Indonesian acronym for Jalan, meaning street). They serve mostly seafood, though chicken- and beef-based cuisines are also available. The foods have in average good taste (I don't know if foreigners feel the same about this, though).

We found a budget hotel here, called Elen Hotel, in which we rent two air-conditioned rooms priced Rp 100,000 (approximately US$10) per room per night; quite cheap isn't it? But, well, of course it is hardly comfortable compared with those star-rated hotels; though still quite agreeable. You'll have free pancake for breakfast with that price, which tastes poorly I must say.

When we returned to Senggigi at our last night in Lombok, we decided to stay in another budget hotel, the Puri Senggigi Hotel, which is even cheaper (Rp 75,000 per room per night) but surprisingly more comfortable than Elen Hotel. Unfortunately, while Elen is situated in central Senggigi, thus has good access to restaurants and cafes of all budgets, Puri Senggigi is situated rather far from central Senggigi, and we had not many choice of places to eat but only a few restaurants nearby.

We did not spend much time in the beach while in Senggigi; it is not so beautiful anyway, with only series of plain light grey sandy beaches can be commonly found in Java Island's coastal areas (I live in Java Island, btw, Indonesia's most populous island and wherein the capital city of Jakarta is located). But we did see good sunset there and took some beautiful photos. I've heard that Senggigi beach has good waves for surf beginners. I see the waves, but I can't decide whether it is true because I don't surf at all. But the beach is pretty wavy, I must say. And they rent surf boards in Senggigi, as well as some small motorcycles (we call it "motor bebek", specially designed for small Asians), which are likely favorite to foreign tourists from Europe.

Senggigi, however, is a good point from which we can visit other nearby tourist spots, such as those located in Mataram. So, after arriving in Senggigi on Thursday night, on Friday we had a tour to Mataram, wherein we visited an ancient Hindu temple complex called Narmada (a resting place of an ancient Hindu king in the past consisting also of the king's bathing pools); Ina Mulia pearl jewerly shop which sells a range of jewelry (necklaces, rings, earrings, etc) embellished with real pearls of several different colors; and a local restaurant (which serves the famous traditional Ayam Taliwang -- chicken served with hot chili sauce).

We also visited the Batu Bolong Hindu temple, which is situated on a low cliff next to Senggigi beach. The temple directly faces the ocean.

We rented a car and the driver for 8 hours (priced Rp 350,000 -- about US$35, including gasoline) for the tour. Sounds too expensive but we saw no other option.

On day 3 we crossed to Gili Meno, one of the famous three gilis (gili = local for island), through Bangsal Harbor, 18 km north of Senggigi. Tour companies offered us shuttle service which they say has "reasonable price", but we found that actually it is cheaper to go to the harbor with taxi (I recommend local Lombok Taxi of the Blue Bird taxi group, or that of Express taxi group) than cross to the Gilis with public boat.

The three famous gilis are Gili Trawangan, Gili Meno and Gili Air. The first is the most crowded and the third is the least. They are both called "party islands" because of their offering of night lives in the middle of the sea. I and my friends are not fans of parties, and because what we seek is tranquility, we chose to visit Gili Meno, which is apparently named the "Honeymoon Island" and similarly a choice to many tourist couples if not families.

Gili Meno has undoubtedly the most beautiful nature compared with other Lombok's beach tourist spots. It has that white and soft sandy beach, and stunning clear seawater with gradient blues through which you can catch the sight of coral reefs here, there and everywhere. The waves are mild; it is not for surfing but is a popular spot for diving and snorkeling; which are also offered by Gili Trawangan and Gili Air. This interesting offering of marine life sightseeing is one of the things differing Lombok from its neighbor Bali.

Uniquely, the small Gili Meno Island has a saltwater lake, a basin perhaps trapped thousands years ago, which is surrounded by mangrove wood.

Though I must say that the marine life is still quite as nothing compared with that in Sulawesi's Togean Islands (read my note on it in last year's archive); it is a more comfortable resort area because it has more various cozy bungalows to stay in and more beachfront low-budget restaurants to eat at, in addition to its being easier to reach (only about 30 minutes speed boad ride compared with two hour to get to Kadidiri resort Island in Togean from Central Sulawesi's Tojo Una-Una harbor). It is also well covered by cell phone signals and even has internet cafes; things that you cannot absolutely access in Togean.

The defect is the annoying local beach boys, which make a group of girls like us an easy target of flirtation. This is the part that I hate most about the island.

We stayed in Kontiki Meno bungalows there, with each bungalow priced Rp 200,000 (about US$20) per night. We got discount for being local tourists, by the way. Foreign tourists only get discount when they stay longer like one or two months.

Warning; one of the beach boys said that room rate rocketed during peak seasons such as July and August. He said the hotel owners could triple fold the rate; nuts!

On day 5, we crossed back to Bangsal Harbor, from which we took a ride on a public minivan called engkel (read: ankle) to Mataram priced Rp 10,000 ($1) per person. From Mataram we went straightly to Kuta beach in southern Lombok by taxi, paying Rp 132,000 (about $13).

Don't be fooled by tour companies. They would say that there is no other way to get to Kuta besides using shuttle service they offer. And that could cost more than twice the public minivan plus taxi ride. We opted not to use public transports all the way to Kuta because we would have needed to change to several different vehicles before reaching, which is not efficient for newcomers like us.

Kuta beach is surfers' haven. They said it has good big waves favorite to surfers. But, most hotels and bungalows in this area are situated near the beach that doesn't have those good waves. Ones have to go a few good kilometers to East to get to the part where the waves are just what the surfers need. Need not to worry; local people have motorcycle rentals from which you can rent a motorcycle for quite long.

The beach is also pretty beautiful, with its dark greenish blue seawater and large black rocks scattering in some parts of the coast. You cannot however expect better underwater life from that in the three Gilis.

In Kuta, we stayed in a bungalow at Segare Anak Hotel priced Rp 175,000 per night (plus 1 extra bed); our neighbors were all foreign surfers of all ages. We didn't surf, however, only enjoyed the beauty of the beach by having good walk along part of its coast in the afternoon and in morning the next day.

We had the delicious "pelecing ayam" (another chicken with chili sauce) for our dinner.

On day 6, we returned to Senggigi because it is nearer to Selaparang airport (only about 15 minutes taxi ride compared with more than an hour from Kuta), from which we have to depart to Jakarta the next day.

While passing through Mataram, we stopped by at a pearl jewelry center in Pagutan, where a range of small shops offer various kinds of jewelry made of original local pearls; and then at a traditional snack shop, where we bought seaweed sweets.

At night in Puri Senggigi Hotel we ordered McDonald through its delivery service, thinking it would have cost less than having our dinner at nearby costly restaurants. Unfortunately, it appears to be not so different in price because they seemingly only have one McDonald restaurant across Lombok; situated in Mataram. We were double-charged for our calling to the delivery service number (by cell phone operator and McDonald itself); and still had to pay delivery fee (which wouldn't happen had you ordered it in Jakarta).

Very early on day 7, we flew back to Jakarta.

This is the summary of our seven-day vacation in Lombok:
• Day 1 night: arrival at Lombok's Selaparang Airport, staying in Senggigi.
• Day 2: having a tour to Mataram; visiting ancient Narmada Hindu temple, pearl jewelry shop, and Batu Bolong temple; plus a lunch at a restaurant offering tradition ayam taliwang.
• Day 3: Crossing to Gili Meno.
• Day 4: All day in tranquil and beautiful Gili Meno.
• Day 5: Crossing back to main Lombok Island, to Kuta beach.
• Day 6: Back to Senggigi, stopping by at Mataram to buy souvenirs and snacks
• Day 7: Departure to Jakarta.

When we had the trip last week, there was only a night flight to Mataram and morning flight to get back to Jakarta; so in fact we unfortunately had only 5 full days in Lombok.

Tips:
July to December is peak season, so everything from airline ticket fares to room rates are skyrocketing; better consider taking leave in first semester of a year to spend some time to Lombok.

Direct flight to Lombok is available from Soekarno-Hatta Airport in Jakarta, Surabaya, Bali; and from Singapore and Australia (not sure which airport, though).

Comments

Release your anger, don't hold it, and ... (prepare to) feel the pinch

Mon, 04 May 2009 11:03:40 +0200

I've never felt so miserable before in my life. Today I burst into a rage: shouting at my younger sister, having severe argument with her, and ... ending it by slapping her face.

That is of a thing I have never done before. I used to have that sort of perfect self-control that even though something bad make me upset, I've always managed to get over it before I have to yell to anyone that has caused it.

I used to adopt that "Se A Vida e" way of viewing problems, which means when I encounter problems; whatever they are I won't let them trouble me; for well, isn't that what life is all about? Having problems and facing them.

But today, I forgot all the stuff. I unnecessarily and stupidly shouted at my sister so severely though despite her let's say wrongdoing, she did not deserve it.

I was angry with my sister because she is so lazy (she is a hi-school student, btw). Forget about helping our mother with her household works, she even so often adds it with telling her to do this and that which are supposed to be her own responsibilities. My mother, who rather spoils her, will easily grant her requests.

I am also very angry because she so often without guilt speaks in impolite high tone to my mother; resembling exactly the way the antagonist evil characters in soap operas treat the protagonist characters. They --my sister and my mother-- often have severe arguments, which I cannot stand. So often these are that my mother usually gives up and does what she wants.

She did them again today (I wrote this on Sunday night, btw); loafing around and speaking with her sharp tongue to my mother. And that was when the problem started. I told her to get up, turn off the TV and help our mother prepare lunch (I couldn't do so because I was preparing to go to work). But she replied in a sharp high tone, which, because of my uncommonly unstable emotional condition, I replied back with higher tone. She replied even higher and sharper, and that prompted my even harsher, and so on. We indeed had severe quarrel, and I ended it by slapping her face in an attempt to shut her mouth.

I had had quarrels with her, but they were never as severe as this one. And moreover I had never slapped her face before.

She cried after that; locking herself in her room. I couldn't help dropping tears, too, though I had to take a bus to go to my workplace; more tears of anger instead of sadness.

But less than an hour, while I was still in te bus, I felt so terrible with what I had done. Not just terrible; I also felt ache in my heart.

I think I have gone too far. I think instead of inspiring her to change, what I did was hurting her so deeply because while I was shouting angrily at her, came out all those hurting words I should have never said.

It just felt right at that time, but now it feels so wrong.

I sent her an SMS asking for her apology for my being "gone too far" while I was still in the bus. And she replied, saying that she felt sorry, too, and regretted her sharp reply. She promised me that from now on she would try to be a good girl, and a good daughter to our parents.

But, still, the ache remains. I realized however that I did not treat her fairly when quarreling with her. It was not her mere doing that has caused me that rage. Hers only does not deserve such storming.

I've been very angry with the company I permanently work at (for making me overworked yet giving me unequal compensation); I've been extremely tired because I have had to do double job (I've taken a side job too during the past week because one salary only appears to be not enough to afford me and my family; my aging parents can no longer afford themselves now); and I've been fairly laden with a few other stuff too recently. And these are all made worse with that pms.

I didn't know to whom I can throw those angers to; and so, I threw them all to her, my own beloved younger sister.

It hurt me so when I heard her sobbing in her locked room. I have never heard her crying so sadly and miserably before; she was seemingly shocked with my treating of her as I had always been her favorite sibling (at least before what happened this morning). Even though I have asked for her apology, and she has done me the same, I don't feel anything better because I'm afraid the pain that I've caused her will never mend.

Yes, they say, release your anger; it will drive you mad when you restrain them. But, in my case, I have learned that doing so doesn't at all help. Now I feel more terrible and miserable than before, and this is added with that ache for causing deep pain in the heart of someone you care so much about.

Comments

One Star in the Night Sky

Mon, 27 Apr 2009 15:11:16 +0200

The speechless heavens
Reach deeper
Covered by the dust of time
I am waiting anxiously

Then you come humbly
One lonely star in the night sky
Your light is a jungle of charms
Wherein I know I've been lost

I run after you to no end
My trying to reach you has not been welcomed
Alone, keeping these feelings
While you keep freezing

My dreams are swirling away
As your frail light flows slowly
And I am sinking

Your faint light heads to nowhere
For you I've become the South
But you're never aware
To now, to the end

I run after you to no end
My trying to reach you has not been welcomed
Alone, keeping these feelings
While you keep freezing

*An English translation of an Indonesian song's lyrics.

Comments

A Special Thanks to Mr. Christian Bale

Sun, 05 Apr 2009 10:20:16 +0200

"You have to watch the movie, and you're not gonna be so disappointed after all," that was what my friend told me when I told her of how disappointed, how terribly irritated I was to find the ending of Little Women, a classic novel written by Louisa May Alcott.

Like most of the readers, and especially the telenovela-oriented ones, I had expected since maybe the beginning of the book that boyish Jo --the main character-- would have eventually ended up marrying her good friend Laurie; the young, Italian-born and affluent boy next door.

But, no; she rejected his proposal of marriage, leaving Laurie in great disappointment. She then indirectly let him marry her youngest, snob sister Amy and, most irritatingly, she herself finally married a 40-something poor professor from Germany instead; someone more than 20 years older than her (!) and suit her better as a father.

That marriage stuff can be found in Little Women's sequel, Good Wives.

To speak about this Little Women and my disappointment over the ending is actually very embarrassing to me. But, well, as I guess nobody here knows me anyway (excepting some friends knowing me very well already), I decided to write it down here, especially because I've been quite engrossed with it.

I first knew about Little Women from its animated series (produced in 1985, cmiw). I was maybe 9 or 10, and I liked the series a lot, maybe because of the long dresses of America's late 19th century that the ladies wore, or maybe because of the characters, or maybe because there was no other better animated series movies to be watched. My favorite character was always Jo (she had long dark brown hair which was always tied up like ponytail, and always wore long green dress) because, well, she resembles me in many ways: the second child of four children of the family, boyish, hater of socialization affairs, and, well ... has a great ambition to be a writer.

I like her, and I like the depiction of Laurie in the series. He looked like a sweet, nice, and very helpful young boy who was a very good friend to Jo, though he also befriended her three sisters.

But, that animated series were no longer broadcast even before I knew how it ended. I used to believe, however, like telenovelas always end, that Jo would end up "living happily ever after" with her dear Laurie.

Years went by then, and I grew up growing a character more and more resembling that of Jo. She had become somewhat of a model to me, though I only realized it when, while doing my final year at the university (which means about 12 years since I watched the animated series), I found the complete and unabridged version of Little Women novel, and even its sequel Good Wives.

I felt so tremendously happy when I found the books at the book store, like someone who has just found her long lost love. I started reading them with immense excitements.

But, that was before I got to the second half of Good Wives, where all things I had expected to find in the story (especially that related to Jo's relationship with Laurie) were seemingly not those what Ms. Alcott wanted to write.

She just so in a sudden separated Jo and Laurie, and bring Jo to meet with the German professor, who just came out of the blue.

I have never dared to see the chronologies of what happened next after Jo's and the professor's immense meetings. I very anxiously suspected that Alcott would give the most unwanted ending to the story, so I decided to straightly go to the ending (that was really unlike my habit of never seeing the ending before I finish with all other parts preceding a book), and yes, I found that Laurie married Amy and Jo married Prof. Baehr instead.

I was so disappointed, so broken-hearted with the ending that despite my excitations in reading Little Women and the first half of Good Wives, I have never read to the date the second half.

I googled and read the review in Wikipedia instead -- several months after I could fairly cope with the deep irritation and disappointment -- from which I found that Beth, the third child of the March family, died of scarlet fever.

Yeah, I know this is highly ridiculous, and very childish indeed. But, well, after years of associating myself with Jo and keeping hopes that I would, too, like Jo, find my own Laurie, it was just a great slap to my face that the ending is not at all like I had expected.

I would never want to marry someone more than 20 years older than me, someone who deserves better to be my father.
And, it takes months before I can mend the broken heart and maybe more than a year before I can separate myself from Jo.

I said to myself, 'I AM NOT JO. I AM ME. I WILL NEVER BE JO, AND WILL NEVER MARRY SOMEONE 20 YEARS OLDER THAN ME!'.

And indeed, it was not at all easy to cope with the disappointments. Since then, I always firstly read reviews of the books I want to read before deciding to buy it, so as to prevent other disappointments over unwanted endings.

And, well, my friend's suggestion that I watch the movie has indeed helped me. She said if I saw the movie, I wouldn't like Laurie because, she said, 'It's Christian Bale who starred as Laurie, and I never like him. I believe you won't like him either. And Professor Baehr, in the movie he's not bearded and corpulent as you imagine. It was Gabriel Byrne who played him, and although he is perhaps sort of old and not so handsome, I like him better than Christian Bale'.

And so, I watched the movie, which, I must say, has very good pictures and setting. I do like Winona Ryder's starring as Jo in the 1994 Little Women movie, but Christian Bale's starring as Laurie has indeed downgraded Laurie's image in my eyes.

I watched the movie for the second time last week, and found that the image even more degraded that I can hardly feel personally hurt by his marrying of Amy.

There is still a little disappointment; and foolish hope if only the story has a better end, that Jo did not marry the old professor... But, well, thank God it is no longer personally. I have been able to separate my life from Jo's; and partly that's because of Christian Bale's depicting of Laurie in the movie.

So, Mr. Bale, I specially thank you for that ... Hope this doesn't make you offended, though I don't think you'll ever read this piece of writing anyway.

Comments

On the Great Universe

Mon, 30 Mar 2009 16:27:07 +0200

On the great universe
I found how small I am
I found how small human being is
I found how even smaller than a dot we are
Compared with the exceedingly vast universe

On the great universe
I found how fool we are
I found how least what we know of life is
As of so many things floating in the universe
The earth is the only object we fairly know
And we don't know it that well either

On the great universe
I found how arrogant we are
Think and act as if we were the owner of everything exist
While we can't even come out of the milky way

And finally on the great universe
I found how great the Creator is
Creating all things that are there so arranged and so useful
So detailed and so beautiful
And how pathetic we are
If still believe that they created their own selves

Comments

Watch out; the crisis is attacking...!

Wed, 25 Mar 2009 08:56:20 +0100

Ok. I agree now; that the global economic recession is deepening and taking its toll on everyone, including me (!).

Nope, I am not dismissed from my job, thank God. But, well, there are still some bad news, which have made all my hopes upon better payment this year, when prices of every goods seem to soar, fly away.

I had anticipated, along 2008, for twice raises in monthly salaries, twice bonus disbursements and twice holiday allowances (for Idul Fitri and Christmas) in 2009.

I only secured the allowances last year because, despite having been employed for an entire year in 2007, my status as a new permanent staff in early 2008 denied me the right for salary raises and the bonuses.

Somehow, I was not yet eligible for them, the human resources department said. That has yet to mention holiday allowances I failed to get in late 2007, despite a government regulation stipulating that companies must give at least a holiday allowance for employees having been working there for even only one month (I'm not sure if it applies, too, for those having been working for less than a month).

If the employees have worked for more than a year, than they are eligible for one time monthly base payment. If less than a year, than it depends on how many months they have served at the companies, the regulation from the Manpower and Transmigration Ministry says.

Despite the ruling, I was denied to my right for the holiday allowance in late 2007 though at that time I had worked in my current firm for eight months. Protests were useless; the HRD manager said it was the company's policy, whether I like it or not.

Okay, then, I tried to accept that, however I thought unfair it was. And so, I expected that I would earn my rights for the allowances in my second year at office. As I mentioned above, in the second year, that is 2008, I got the allowances, though I was denied by rights for the bonuses and salary rises.

Protests were again useless. It looks like I have to resign and seek position in other places if I want such rights to be fulfilled. Because well, I realized it is not that easy to find places that can pay and treat me better, I decided to stay.
And I put my hopes on 2009, when the company has no more excuses to deny my rights for all the salary raises, bonuses and holiday allowances.

But, boom, the global financial meltdown strikes. Previously Indonesia expected to be only lightly affected by the crisis, but as 2009 arrives, we found that it is, too, hitting us badly, though maybe not as bad as the US, Europe or China because we are not an export-oriented country.

And guess what? Yes, 100 for you...! Yap, this time using the crisis as the excuse, which is hard to reject, my company has announced it would not raise the salaries even once this year (all our work performances in the previous year mean nothing, hence), would not disburse any of the bonuses, though thank God they haven't said anything about the holiday allowances.

But, the company I work at is not by all means an ailing company like AIG. If AIG, which has received the US government bailout can still disburse millions of dollars in bonuses for the executives, why can't my company pay just millions of rupiah in bonuses for its mere 200 something employees.

Moreover I know that they did not see declining profit last year. Where the money goes? To anticipate this year's deepening effects of the crisis? Perhaps so...

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The Blue Ring

Tue, 24 Mar 2009 16:18:51 +0100

The western sky was getting reddish when you arrived. Hundreds birds flew away, surprised by your coming. You stood-still for a moment, and then sat down at your favorite place; the place where you could watch the sun going down beautifully, and its golden light produced dancing reflection on the nearby lake surface.

You used to detest the soaring hill across the lake. You dubbed it as a mere blockade to your sight, preventing you from following the complete movement of the sun. But, now, you seemed to start to understand that without the hill, this place would have not been the place you knew.

Your eyes gazed straight ahead. The crimson sky before you had been the natural phenomenon you had always loved the most. But now, every time you saw it, your heart cried. You missed those times so much, those very precious times to you, the ones you knew you would never find back.

Your smiled, remembering the first time you met Eric. You were here; all alone as always. Those that you called friends just left you; you were about to weep over it when suddenly he showed up. He teased you, doing this and that, trying to make you talk. But he made you so angry instead. You thought, ‘who is this boy? I didn’t even know him, how dare he play around with me!’ You yelled at him, telling him to go away, but all he did was continually laughing, and teasing you.

Now your eyes shifted toward the sunlight glittering on the lake. You laughed, remembering after that, you became close friend to him instead. He was a very cheerful boy; enthusiastic about almost everything. You never saw him sad. He liked to tell you so many stories, and he always encouraged you to do great things. He told you about his childhood memories, about distant places he had visited or heard of, about books he read, about his dreams, and all other things. And when you spoke, he listened to you carefully, never bothered to interrupt nor showed no interest. He is the best thing that has ever happened to you.

Your gaze fell slowly upon the yellow dry grass around your feet. You saw a group of pebbles scattering around nearby, and decided to take some of them. You rose, and one by one you reluctantly threw the pebbles into the lake, a thing you used to do with Eric. You remembered; you never made throws farther than his. Somehow he always made excellent distant throws, with some of the pebbles almost reaching the other side of the lake. Yours, on the other hand, never even reached half of distance he made.

You stared long at the last stone on your palm. Then you closed your eyes, took a deep breath in, and threw the pebble as strong as you could toward the other side of the lake. Your eyes turned wider at once, you laughed, as you watched the pebble bounced several times before plunging beautifully into the lake; right near the other side of it. In your heart you said joyfully, ‘Look, Eric! Look! Who says I can’t throw better than you?!’

The evening wind blew softly upon your face, moving your untied hair tenderly. Your heart trembled. The talk between Eric and his mother, while they were in their house’s kitchen, was presently buzzing in your ears. You were outside, behind the door. You heard it unintentionally just when you were going to step in.

“NO WAY, MOM! YOU CAN’T PUT ME IN THE HOSPITAL!! I DON’T WANNA STAY THERE…!!!” It was Eric, shouting to his mother, a beautiful and rather young lady who somehow always looked sad.

You wondered, what made Eric have to stay at hospital. He looked just fine; it couldn't be there was something wrong with hime.

“Honey, you shouldn’t speak like that…”, now Eric’s mother talked, with tremble in her voice. It sounded like she was trying hard not to cry.

Eric seemed to regret his high tone, and softened his voice as soon as he talked again.

“Please, Mom … you know it’s useless. You know we’ve come and visited the hospital maybe thousands of times, but still there’s nothing the doctors can do with me. You know that however I’m gonna die, Mom…”

You were paralyzed when hearing that. You hoped this was just a joke, but his mother's bursting into tears made you think it couldn’t have been any kind of joke. Didn’t know what to do, you ran without knowing where to go. Eric saw you, and then ran after you. He told you to stop, trying to say that you misunderstood. But you knew he was lying.

The sky was growing darker. You remembered the last time Eric took you here. The night was about to fall like now, and hundreds birds flew away when you and him arrived.

He walked close to the shore and gathered some pebbles scattering around, then threw them one by one into the lake. He talked again about one of his dreams; of how he always wanted to be a great architect, to build tall state-of-the-art skyscrapers no one could ever think of. He also told you about the place he wanted to spend the rest of his life in, and how he wanted you to stay there with him someday. Eric laughed, he looked so happy. His eyes were shiny, and his pale face looked so bright. It was like he wanted to show all he felt for you, and how happy he was for doing that.

Your stare turned empty again. You remembered when you visited Eric at hospital. It was the last time you saw him. His face was so pale, he looked so weak, and infusion pipes were adhered on his arms. But still, he lifted his hand up and brushed the tears on your face away. “Hey…, I’ll be okay”, he said.

You couldn’t hold those tears any longer. The sun was completely set now. There was no more reddish twilight that had painted the sky beautifully, nor was its glittering reflection on the clear lake surface.

Eric has gone. He died of cancer seven years ago. But, still you cannot forget him. You kept reminiscing him this way. You cry and cry, and let yourself lost in your never ending sorrow.

Duane, don’t you know how pathetic you are? The sun does set. But can’t you see what replace it? It’s the stars. There are hundreds; no, thousands, even millions of them. Look at how beautiful, how enchanting they are. I’m sure, Duane, if one of those stars were Eric; he must really want to say to you, ‘Shine, Duane, as what I’m doing. And one day, show people that you can make all your dreams come true’.

Duane, I want to be your best friend. Stay right by your side through the joy and the pain, and cheer you up like Eric used to do. But, what can I do? I am only an inanimate object. I am just a blue ring that you wear on your right ring finger.

---The End---

Comments

Of Dreams, Wishes, and the Law of Attraction

Mon, 23 Mar 2009 09:30:01 +0100

I have learned, through my own experiences and those of some others around me, that what you will eventually get (God's willing) are what your heart most desires and not necessarily what you think you want, however bad you think you want them.

This can perhaps answer some questions related to the Law of Attraction -- if it indeed works -- of why these wishes come true and others don't, why those dreams manifest and others remain mere dreams.

I remember, about four years ago (gosh, it feels like just yesterday) I wrote on a 'dream card' (that is a card someone gave me to write my dreams on) that by 15 years from then I would "have my writings read in at least three continents".

I was still a student at that time, doing my final year university study (which has nothing to do with my current reporting job), and though I'd written a lot, none of my writings, either fictions or non-fictions, had ever been published. I admit I didn't send a lot of my works to the media, but even the rare ones sent were never published anyway. Only some of my friends and my university mates read my works.

When I wrote the wish, I imagined I would be someone like J.K. Rowling, or other famous writers whose works have been published in different languages and read across dozens of countries. Shortly, I thought what I wanted was to be a famous author.

But, then, I realize that it is not exactly what my heart desires. It is only what I think I really want. I've found now that it is not fame I've been after, but feeling satisfied that my writings are read by people in many different countries and will be hopefully useful for them; either giving them valuable information or, most preferably, changing their perceptions toward many things.

That is what my heart desires. Four years after the wish was written down and two years after I commenced my reporting job, I've seen it coming true. Now when I type my name in Google, I can easily see my works published in dozens of websites with dozens of different domains, telling me how my writings have been read -- though not massively-- in Asia (particularly in Southeast Asia, of course), Europe, America, Africa, and fewer in Australia. My writings have been made reference in not just three, but five continents.

I remember, too, that when I was in high school -- that was about 10 years ago, I wrote down these lists of (1) 5 foods I most wanted to eat, (2) 5 items I most wanted to have, (3) 5 descriptions of me in the future, (4) 5 university departments I likely wanted to study in, and (5) 5 of my long-term dreams.

I wrote them from my heart, excepting the (4) list (I wrote it "likely" because I was not so sure either), and you know what? Ten years after, which is now, I have accomplished all items in the (1) and (2) lists, and most of those in the (3) and (4) lists. Only the (4) list that did not come true. I understand why, however; it is because I did not heartily wish for them.
I earned my bachelor degree from a pharmaceutical school, which was not on the list.

But, well, if I try to see it from different way, that the (4) list is not the departments I wanted to study in but more about the fields I wanted to learn some things from, that list has manifested, too. Being a reporter is becoming a generalist. I've covered almost all kinds of news, including those related to the five fields I put on the (4) list.

There are other things, of course; other evidence, true stories I can share with you so you'll perhaps start to believe that somehow the Law of Attraction might work, and make you understand why some wishes come true and some don't.

But, I prefer to let you sense the facts from your own surrounding, from your own experiences.

No; I’m not trying to say that I’m a believer of the Law of Attraction. I only know little about that anyway. But, I do believe that dreams come true; if not all, than many.

Note:
*The Law of Attraction simply says that you attract into your life whatever you think about. Your dominant thoughts will find a way to manifest.

Comments

Heinrich Von Ofterdingen -- the opening words

Sun, 15 Mar 2009 16:05:25 +0100

The parents have gone to bed and are asleep, the clock on the stairs ticks monotonously, the windows rattle with the wind, the chamber is lit up now and again with fitful gleams of moonlight.

The boy lay tossing on his bed, and thought of the stranger and his talk. "It is not the treasurers," he said to himself, "that have stirred in me such unspeakable longings; I care not for wealth and riches; but that blue flower I do long to see; it haunts me and I can think and dream of nothing else. I never felt so before; it seems as if my past life had been a dream, or as though I had passed in sleep into another world, for in the world that I used to know who would have troubled himself about a flower? Indeed, I never heard tell of such a strange passion for a flower."

The opening words of "Heinrich Von Ofterdingen", a novel written by German author Novalis. Wish I could find the complete story...

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The Theory of Soulmateness

Fri, 13 Mar 2009 07:09:22 +0100

I'm not sure if soulmate does exist. Honestly I'm even quite skeptical about the stuff. But if it does, I guess I know how it is created, and how someone knows if he or she has find the soulmate...

Once upon a time, up in the heaven, soulmate was a soul. But, then, as it was told to descend to the Earth through the dangerous Ozone layer -- the mesosphere, to be exact -- it was burnt, and broken down into two pieces (which are not always equal, I suppose).

Still up in the sky, the wind blows the now two separate pieces into different directions, and lands them onto two separate places, which could be very near or thousands miles away.

Each of the pieces then grows into a soul, a human being. He or she could be very handsome, or just plain; could make many friends or just a few; could be very rich or very poor; could be very successful in life or very bankrupt.

He or she could fall in love once or several times; and could have a lot of funs and feel a lot of happiness.
But, somehow, deep within they would always feel an emptyness, an immense and sometimes aching longing before their heart finds the other piece, the soulmate.

Since the beginning, the heart is incomplete; that's the reason for the emptyness. Only by finding and uniting with the other piece that it would feel complete; and would end, too, all the inexplicable longings, though afterward other problems may still arrive.

This is just a theory, by the way.

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The 'mystery' behind Clinton's coming

Mon, 02 Mar 2009 07:22:01 +0100

I know I've been far too late, and thus perhaps this piece won't be of any use to anyone anymore. But, well, I've promised, and though I've failed to fulfill the promise earlier, at least I still do what I've promised to do, i.e. writing about Hillary Clinton's intention of coming to Indonesia.

It has been confirmed, through her own remarks and those of Indonesia's presidential spokesman, that the reason why Clinton spent two days in Indonesia (on Feb. 18-19) amid her eight-day Asian visit is related closely to Indonesia's position in the Muslim world.

In her maiden overseas trip as the new US Secretary of State, Clinton visited Japan, Indonesia, and then South Korea and China. It is I think obvious why she visited the three other countries; because they are Asia's biggest economies.

Indonesia, on the other hand, is not yet a significant economy, though it has often been dubbed as an emerging economy and has now been included in the G-20 countries (20 countries with 20 biggest GDPs globally).

And yes, it appeared that her visit to the archipelago had no significant thing to do with economy. Clinton likely tried to embrace Indonesia to make it a major partner in the US' new foreign policy, which 'seeks a new way forward based on mutual interest and mutual respect' with the Muslim world.

She said US President Barack Obama’s administration wanted to reach out to the entire world and Indonesia would be an important partner in that effort.

“Certainly Indonesia, being the largest Muslim nation in the world, the third largest democracy, will play a leading role in the promotion of that shared future. So we are looking forward to deepening our cooperation on a number of shared issues,” Clinton said. (The Jakarta Post, Thursday, 02/19/2009)

According to Indonesia presidential spokesman Dino Patti Djalal, Clinton said predominantly Muslim Indonesia could serve as a model of how "Islam, democracy, modernization and the fulfillment of women’s rights could all grow in harmony".

Well, I guess it is clear now; the mystery behind her coming has been revealed.

Clinton has also said the US is now willing to listen more; in short she wanted to send messages of the new face of the US.

I think this article published at The Jakarta Post on February 20, 2009, could describe well her hidden mission and how it has been accomplished...

"Clinton ends visit with charm offensive"

"US Secretary of State Hillary Clinton looked to waste no time during her tightly arranged visit to Indonesia, which wound up Thursday.

Her mission to put a new face on US foreign policy, one that was friendlier and willing to be a “better listener” than ever, has seemingly been accomplished.

The new US secretary of state did everything from holding serious talks with Indonesian leaders, to sharing her fancy for classical music in front of a local TV audience.

After meeting with Indonesia Foreign Minister Hassan Wirajuda, visiting the ASEAN Secretariat and having dinner with civil society figures on Wednesday, Clinton appeared on a local TV show, paid a courtesy call on President Susilo Bambang Yudhoyono and visited a slum area in Jakarta on Thursday before departing to South Korea later in the afternoon.

On Thursday morning, Clinton, her face wreathed in smiles, appeared in music program Dahsyat on local broadcaster RCTI, in which the relaxed former first lady shared with the audience her love of classical music..."
more ... http://www.thejakartapost.com/news/2009/02/20/clinton-ends-visit-with-charm-offensive.html

Comments

Hillary Clinton is here ... ! What to expect?

Wed, 18 Feb 2009 16:03:21 +0100

Much-awaited Mrs. Hillary Rodham Clinton finally arrived here in Jakarta, the capital of Indonesia. She just got back from Japan and would spend two days here before flying to South Korea and, finally, China.

The eight-day Asian tour marks her premiere overseas trip as the new US Secretary of State. The reasons of her country choice, well ... is still somewhat a mystery for the Indonesian case.

In Japan, well, I guess it's obvious that the US and Japan have been having good economic and security partnership since the end of the World War II. Her coming there has been confirmed as part of way to maintain the good partnership amid especially this time of crisis.

In South Korea, aside of economic stuff, the North Korea nuclear issue will surely be among of her agendas.

In China, we all know this will have something to do with economy, as China is now dubbed as the world's most emerging economy. And, from what I've read, Clinton will also discuss environmental issues with Chinese leaders. China has reportedly replaced the US as the biggest emitter of greenhouse gases.

In Indonesia ... well, speculations have indeed arisen as the public is still poorly-informed over her real intentions for coming here.

We (Indonesians, I mean) have proudly (though I have to admit -- naively, too) said over and over again that the new U.S. President Barack Obama had spent tiny part of his childhood in Jakarta.

And that;s why after the US and Kenya, it looks like we're the most joyful country in welcoming Obama's victory in the US presidential elections last year.

So, no wonder that many people here think that Clinton's visit to Indonesia -- hardly significant in previous US administration's foreign polices, must be attributable to Obama's "emotional link" with the archipelago.

Some also think this must have something to do with Obama's intention to improve US relationship with the Muslim world "based on mutual interest and ... ". Well, I think you have learned geography will know that Indonesia is the country with biggest Muslim population globally, though we never declare ourselves as an Islamic state.

The Indonesian government itself claims Clinton's visit must be because of Indonesia's emerging position in the global economy. Indonesia is now member of the G-20 countries, they said.

Well, well, well ... although Clinton has met with Indonesia's Foreign Minister Hassan Wirajuda today, the reasons of her coming remains a mystery.

I'm looking forward to know the answer from her scheduled meeting tomorrow with President Susilo Bambang Yudhoyono. And after that I can perhaps inform you again about the answer of the mystery ... Ciao!!

Comments

Just a few words

Sat, 14 Feb 2009 10:06:17 +0100

There are some pains that time could never mend. You were once the cure, but now you are the pain itself. You came right at time after I pledged never again to put hopes on people. You broke down the door that I had closed and locked, and whose key I had thrown far away to ensure no one would have ever found it. Then you repaired the door, and made another key for yourself. You brought the key everywhere you went, even as far as to where you are now.

I never want to blame you; you never intended to cause the pain. But man plans and God decides. The pain that you've caused me is even more hurting than those pains before your coming; leaving very deep traces within me, and turning into inseparable part of me. You have changed my life forever and eternally ...

*Note: I borrowed the first sentence from Frodo's saying in the last part of LOTR Return of the King movie.

Comments

Sunset photos

Mon, 26 Jan 2009 15:06:14 +0100

Okay, I have published some of these photos on the photography group, but I think I need to bring some more colors, too, into my own blog. I took them on my own, by the way ...

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Next Destination: Canadian Forests?

Sat, 24 Jan 2009 10:51:28 +0100

When I started to dream about 16 years ago (I was around 10 at that time), I dreamed of visiting Australia, one of Indonesia's closest neighbors. The reason is simple: I have an Australian uncle who frequently sent me Australian stamps (for my stamp collection) featuring beautiful portraits of the country, prompting my eagerness to see it with my own naked eyes. I'd like to visit Queensland, Brisbane, Melbourne, etc. And Savage Garden's "Truly Madly Deeply" video clip made me want to go those places even more.

However, then, as I entered my teenage, the focus changed. I then eyed the United States, which appeared to me --at that time-- as the coolest country on earth. The reason is, well, because it was a supreme-power nation, the world leader in economy, education and technology, the trendsetter, bla3x... I thought I could have boasted before my friends how I ever visited the US, the place where great Hollywood movies were made and great artists and celebrities rose to fame, great scientists made great science and technology inventions, if I could only step my feet there.

Then the Sept. 11, 2001 terrorism attack occurred. Along with the twin WTC towers it smashed; it ruined also my dreams, my hopes to fly to the US. Why? Because I already wore headscarf at that time. And the tragedy, allegedly committed by Osama bin Laden and the gang, immediately sparked increasing, widespread hatred among Westerners against devout Muslims like me. And that made me afraid of going there, worrying I would be treated like criminals, or even terrorists; though I hated and have been hating these so-called Muslim terrorists as immensely as perhaps the families of the victims because they cowardly killed innocents and sparked the spreading hatred against the rest of the Muslim communities.

Children movie "Secret Garden" helped me start dreaming again; and this time my dream was to fly to the United Kingdom, wherein I wished I could see beautiful, enchanting gardens; green Scottish meadows; and old but pretty stony castles, among others, as those in the movies scenes. And I dubbed UK as friendlier to Muslims because, well, from what I read it's been home to the biggest Muslim population in Europe. It was during this period I started my hobby of collecting photos on the Internet. Of course, that time most of them portrayed best, most beautiful places in Britain.

But, then, there was another stupid terrorism tragedy, the 2005 London bombing, which made Muslims once again under scrutiny. I asked my friend, who had been in the region before and after the happening, how people there reacted to the attack. And, well, as I expected, she (also wearing headscarf) confirmed that dislike over Muslims in Britain, as well as in other European countries (there was the Madrid bombing, too, remember?) had been growing ever since.

I really needed a quite some time to struggle with all despairs I felt because of those heart-breaking situations. I thought, forget about how I could or would ever fly to those lands of my dreams; what's so fun about coming to places where the people stare at you suspiciously, despise you and think that you could readily murder them anytime.

And so, slowly but surely, I lost my appetite to go to the UK.

Then I set my eyes on fresh, beautiful Swiss Alps; which to me seemed to be more peaceful, far from any sorts of conflicts. It was prompted by my reading of an adolescence novel titled "Postcard from Switzerland" by Sharon Creech, which beautifully describes the beauty of the mountains and meadows. While I read the book, I was listening to David Foster's song theme for "St. Elmo's Fire", which somehow helped me imagine the Alps more clearly. Johanna Spyri's "Heidi" also helped make me long heartily for an adventurous travel there.

I collected many photos of Swiss nature at that time, during which I also started developing interest in European old towns. Bored with nature-themed pics, I collected these old towns-themed pics more frequently, which inevitably sparked my interest to visit, to travel to the towns. The interest then grew immensely as I started listening classical musics, which was introduced to me by a friend. The musics helped bring images of these romantic old towns into my head, causing me another longing for traveling, this time with European old towns, including Vienna, Frankfurt, St. Petersburg, Prague and Venice, as the destinations.

But, then, with the Danish cartoonist's picturing of Prophet Muhammad, Dutch lawmaker's making and publishing of 'Fitna' film, and supports for them from many Europeans; I learned that I was too naive expecting people there to welcome me in their countries, though I never intend to propagate any of my so-called 'conservative' lifestyles to them. I've been just too individualist and selfish to do so, excuse me.

So, I finally also lost appetites for these beautiful old towns, and started preferring places where I don't have to meet people who would only judge me wrongly, and therefore temperate forests in the northern part of the earth has become my next destination. I long to dip my feet into cool forest creeks, to see otters build their dam homes, to see salmons jump over small waterfalls, to sit in old logs while inhaling the fresh cool air of evergreen coniferous wood, surrounded by tall pine and fir trees, which in the distance draw an imaginary line between the ground and the snowy-on-the-top mountains. Of course I don't expect to meet any Grizzly bears or wolves while doing that.

But, well, well, well, just a few months ago I actually began to think how I had always considered the grass on the other side as greener, and, prompted by my adventurous trip to beautiful Tomini Bay in eastern Indonesia last year, I started to set my eyes onto my own warm homeland; a tropical archipelago of more than 17,000 islands (fantastic isn't it?).
I realized that this country has abundant beautiful places to visit waiting to be discovered by adventurers like me. Besides, I thought, well, at least I know Indonesians, who are more used to girls with headscarves, will welcome me better. And I won't have troubles trying to find halal food (not as troubled as trying to find it in those countries I mentioned above, at least), and domestic travels are obviously more affordable.

So, now, there are least three destinations I am eyeing: First, the temperate forests (probably in those in Canada), the Swiss Alps, and ... the Indonesian archipelago (more specifically Lombok, West Sumatra, Yogyakarta and another Tomini Bay).

I'm sorry to inform you that visitations to all those places I've mentioned above, until now, are still merely my dreams. But, hey, there's nothing wrong with writing your dreams, right? It'll remind you of them, and help you continually do your best efforts to make them come true.

Besides, dreams are food to soul, and some, if not many, of them indeed come true...

So, happy traveling, and happy dreaming ...! Ciao!!

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To Where You Are

Thu, 22 Jan 2009 13:50:15 +0100

(For my dearest blue flower...)

I want to go to where you are
To where the wind blows softly
Upon the yellow dry grass under the oak tree
To where the ablaze surface of nearby lake glitters enchantingly
To where small birds sing and play
Amid a mild sunny summer day

I want to go to where you are
To where light white clouds pass by above
While on the ground their shadows run
To where friendly sunshine spreads its warmth
And the clear blue sky extends its arms
To where bundles of shady trees draw an imaginary line
Between the heavens and the distant wavy meadows

I want to go to where you're at
To where there are only smiles and laughs
To where sorrows melt as soul sees its mate
To where longing ends, as broken heart mends

I want to go to where you are
Only there and nowhere other
To where I see home and love
To where I find shelter and a glimpse of future
To where I've always wished to stay
And my drifting heart meets its quay

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Is it alone, or is it with friends?

Mon, 19 Jan 2009 10:13:35 +0100

Okay, I admit I was a loner. I had not many friends, spent most of my time alone at school (I mean, outside the classroom sessions), found something to eat at canteen and walked home all alone by myself. Only occasionally was I accompanied with a friend when doing those stuff. I'm not sure, but I guess people saw me as a weirdo, though not quite as a geek (I didn't look like those bookworm-type, upon my words!), which was why I liked Radiohead's Creep very much.

But, hey, that was my choice. I consciously picked to outcast myself instead of being outcast by my schoolmates. The reason is, well, first, I was crazy about being 'one of a kind', a uniquely different person who lived in her own world; and, secondly, I was too disappointed with friendship. Those calling themselves my best friends had often left me for somebody else, they had never been there when I had needed them, and so I learned to depend solely on me.

That 'outcast moment' happened in my high school time, which also saw me developing hatred against almost everybody because I felt disappointed by almost everybody. You know those stupid youth' search for identity; I guess that was what was going on with me.

I pledged, however, that I would change all the situation by the time I entered college. And so that was what I did when I started my life as a university student, which was about 7.5 years ago. I made friends with everyone, I talked confidently in front of mass (of my fellow university mates), I joined at least four student organizations; that a friend said I was one of two most confident persons she had ever known. That was far beyond my expectation.

Anyway, during my last university years, again I was outcast. This time it wasn't because I wanted it, but rather because I joined a minority student movement who had intense frictions with some of the major ones. Members of the two different groups act like enemies whenever they met, though it was rather a cold physical war. And, well, because they're the majority, me and a few friends at the minority group were outcast. Silly wasn't it? Thaz why I hardly respect student movements now, unlike I had used to do in the past when university students were on the peak of their popularity (because they, along with other movements, successfully forced former president Soeharto to resign in 1998). I know too well how they often have stupid, unnecessary clashes with one another.

I didn't at all enjoy the outcast times at university. I generally perceived my high school and university days as a failure, part of the past I'd like to skip, I'd prefer to forget. I've learned the lessons, I know it happened, but it doesn't mean I have to remember it.

And so, when I entered the career world, I again pledged I would never do the same mistakes I had done in the past. I would this time make friends, I would never be outcast anymore. I still would not let myself keep any sorts of expectations on people, because it hurts when they let you down, however that doesn't mean I would let myself alone. I need to make friends, need to do it everywhere because, well, basically it is part of network building, one of the very important demands of my reporting job.

And I made it. Okay, most people seem to judge me wrongly when they first see me (due to my rather unusual attire and awkwardness before strangers, I believe), but as soon as they get to know me better (if they give themselves a chance for that, of course) they will mostly like me. I'm that type of person that doesn't likely bring any air of harm to people around me. I'm not among those who can make people 'socially' threatened, as I don't give damn care about competing or showing off (even if do, I am too smart to do it too obviously : D). If I don't like a person, I will not, unless very forced to, slam him or her frontally; I would instead choose to avoid them secretly. If I like ones then I will not be too aggressive (which can make some people run from you), I will perhaps greet them or make acquaintance with first, but I give over the next moves to them. If he or she comes to me again, then I perceive it as a green light. It means they very probably like me, too, and are ready to welcome me warmly anytime in the future.

However, then, this 'success' in interpersonal strategy appears to be likely too much for me. Now I have this queue of friends who each periodically ask me to hang out or to have serious talk with. It looks like they dub me as a good listener, and they like my responses to their problems. Even though still I play passive, they don't get bored proactively asking for my opinions, comments, remarks or whatsoever. I don't know better way to make them do these stuff less frequently. I don't know how to say now without disrupting the friendship.

Yes, as I write this, I'm not trying to say that I'm bored with these people I dub as friends. And I don't by all means wish they would stop talking to me (be careful with what you wish for, says one of them). I do, from the bottom of my heart, like them. They equally listen to me when I talk, and do show their care for me; a treatment I had hardly received from those I called friends in high school or university times.

But, perhaps, I'm not used with this attention, not used with this hectic social life. Little by little I start to realize that basically I am indeed a loner. It doesn't mean I want to be alone all the times; it's just I'm getting aware that I am that sort of person who always need enough time to be alone every once in a while. I always need some time to contemplate, to think about things happening in my life or about next steps I have to do in life, to hear the sound of the nature, to listen to my own inner voice; to the sounds appearing in my head, without being distracted by arriving SMS or phone calls, by friends continually coming to me, or by Mum's or my sister's calling. Then, after I'm done with that alone ritual, I can return to everyday life, where again I greet and meet my beloved family and friends.

That some time to be alone is now a luxury to me. My hectic job and social lives don't allow me to have it. I am mostly alone in my own room at night, but on such times I am usually very tired and sleepy already. On office days it is my job that cause me exhausted, on holiday it is my friends that do me so.

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