14 Days of Recollection
Sept 28, 2005
I am writing this as I am lying on my stomach like the fat cat that I am on my bed in Sari Pan Pacific Jakarta, with some NHK documentary about cabbages playing on TV and Damien Rice singing about spaceships to a girl named Amie. I am hungry but there’s nothing exciting on the room service menu. There is a shopping mall next door but decided I am too tired to walk around in a strange city after a long day running around from Sunway to Bangsar to Sunway to KLIA to Jakarta. A public demonstration is taking place to protest the fuel price increase. It is a sad, angry day for many people but I found the demonstration strangely exhilarating. Pippo said it’s "normal behaviour and procedures.. be careful not to be entangled". I don’t intend to do any tangling.
Work no longer bothered me as much as it used to. What I mean is, my earlier frustrations about the culture, ethics, attitude, bitchy politics and mediocrity no longer occupy much of my waking and sleeping hours. To quote a surprisingly perceptive someone, I am "assimilating". I received a good luck note from a well meaning colleague the other day. I laughed it off. Nope, I told her, I don’t need any luck. Bring it on.
In the plane, I had 2 hours to kill. I forgot to change shoes and was wearing the dreaded Renoma slip-ons with 5-inch killer heels. I kicked the shoes off and asked the flight attendant for a blanket. With my oversized sunglasses on, I leaned back and tried to sleep. But, a lot of things ran through my mind. You could say I had a revelation. Or rather, I had time to rethink what I was doing with my life. Specifically what I am doing with people who want to have something to do with my life.
I have been asked this many times before, although the question seems to be less frequent as I get older. The last time was last Saturday when a 22-year old sweet young thing inadvertently gasped when she found out my age and asked oh-so-innocently "So, are you married?"; and when I answered "Do I LOOK married?" in my best Chandler impersonation, she didn’t get the joke.
Not that I am having a bout of regret or anything. At this point of my life, I have earned enough brownie points to qualify me into the singles hall of fame or something. The things that got me to think is that how in order for me to be able to proudly wear my singlehood badge on my sleeve like a medal I have won, I may have, though with the greatest good intentions, stepped on more than my fair share of hearts.
On one hand, I think I am entitled. Why shouldn’t I choose not to be half of a couple? On the other hand, perhaps I should have been less careless with the way I skirt around other people’s feelings.
Recently someone suggested that I purposely act obtuse when I am cornered into acknowledging interest. I looked at her with a "huh?" written all over my face. But both of us knew I was bluffing, and that my bluff is running out of its useful shelf life.
Let me set the scenario so that I can explain what happened before I took today’s flight.
On my normal day to day life, I have always been a touchy feely person, although, ironically, I hate being touched. There is something disarming about putting your hand gently on someone’s arm as you talk, or touching the lower back lightly to make a point and I use these to great effect. These are the tools of the trade, nothing more than a magician’s bag of tricks. I kiss, I hug, sometimes I even inhale deeply and tighten the embrace to give the impression that I care when I really don’t. It’s shameless but it gets me what I want.
The thing is this. Sometimes I am sincere about it. But, most of the time, I am not. As do, I am sure, other people. And if I do care, I am careful about who I shower my affections on, for fear that I may give the impression that I care more than I really do. Am I making any sense?
Not too long ago, a couple of friends saw me for lunch. As we were saying our goodbyes, he turned to me and extended his hand for a handshake. I looked at him with a surprise. We go a long way back and we have never been formal with each other so the handshake threw me off course. As I shook his hand gingerly, he patted my shoulder with the other. I think I saw a smile.
I walked to the office, unsure of what just happened. That’s not true. I had an inkling of what just happened. The sudden formality was not an accident. It was deliberate.
Today as I was saying my goodbyes while waiting for a taxi to haul me to the airport, I was prepared for another handshake. When the hand was extended, I was ready. But instead he pulled me in for a hug, a move that startled me because we are not the kind of friends that air kiss or hug. In that split second it took to decide how to react, I leaned in and hugged him back. And then I sighed. I am not sure if he caught the sigh but I knew I covered it with a smile. And the reason for the sigh is that I realised, in that split second, that I do care about this person. Genuinely. Which I don’t do very often.
So what’s the connection, as a certain someone likes to ask. What’s the glue that hold all these pieces of recollection together.
As I sat there in the plane with my eyes closed, I thought about all the other guys in my life. Those that I called, or anointed, as friends thus firmly cementing them in a place where they were not allowed to ask, or hope, for anything more; and those that I strung along because I wanted to have the luxury to tell the world that hey I am single by choice not by lack of interested parties. Both categories now seem unusually cruel. I took it upon myself to decide where and how these ‘friends’ were categorised. My handshakes, my hugs. I made those checkmates. Was I selfish? I certainly was. Still am.
I laugh about these people. I call them losers. I sigh dramatically and proclaim they should get a grip and move on with their lives. I broadcast the SMS that I receive at 3am in the morning like they are trophies.
So what do I do now that this friend had put me in my place? I haven’t decided whether he was going to be a fairweather friend, or a long-chat-late-at-night-when-I-am-lonely friend, or a career and confidence boosting friend, or just someone that I am proud to have in my circle of acquaintance simply because this association can elevate my ranking?
What does that say about me?
And perhaps too, I am overthinking this. A handshake is just a handshake; a smile is just a smile; a hug is just a hug; and a sigh … well.. you know how it goes by now. Affection waxes and wanes, circumstances change, loyalty wavers. And someday, this too, shall pass. That all this recollection is just my guilt shaming me into confession that my niceness is just another tool of the trade that I use to suit my agenda.
But for right now, now that I am put in the secondary position where I no longer can shape or decide what form or manner this friendship will grow into, I am ashamed to think how carelessly I have behaved.
I will probably sleep this off and forget about it tomorrow.
Such is life.
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Oct 1, 2005
It has been 4 days in Jakarta, another 9 to go. Today, I blew a small fortune buying a pair of Kickers shoes, which I regretted almost immediately as the tough leather bit into my skin, four beaded necklaces, a Godawful-ugly-it-should-never-have-been-worn-at-all denim jacket, a green bracelet one for me, 5 Reebok tank tops (they were on sale!), souvenir t-shirts for the girls, coasters (don’t ask), a lime green union bay bag and 14 pairs of disposable panties. I suddenly realized I bought so many supplements I may get stopped by customs so I put all the products into the green bag to make it easier for clearance. I am worried they will mistake the singkong beracun (which I found out meant "ubi kayu") capsules for drugs. As I fly out to Papua tonight on Garuda, we will see if I get into any trouble.
I walked around looking for golf shirts. The selection made me want to cry. How can a sport that is so expensive has such ugly ‘uniforms’? See it’s true, money can’t buy fashion sense.
Today I am sober unlike a few days ago so all notions of romance have been successfully exorcised.
This room is f*cking cold.
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Oct 11, 2005
Jakarta, Papua and Yogjakarta now seems like just a long, tiring dream.
I am back in metropolitan Sunway, still lying on my belly but this time around, I am in the comfort of my cluttered room surrounded by things that I am familiar with. The most dangerous thing I can do is trip over the dangling wires of my hair dryer or the occasional finger fatigue from playing guitar with rusted strings.
Today, during Buka Puasa, I convinced my sisters that we should go to Yogjakarta to shop. Ha. I better remember to book for the flight tickets tomorrow.
As to the other things that were bothering me at the start of the trip, it seemed so long ago. I had to read and re-read what I wrote to remember what exactly happened and how exactly it made me feel.
Here are the list of things that I got from various places:
A Kotekar (in all honesty I didn’t buy this, Pak Hendra did and he insisted I must take one home)
9 Reebok shirts (yes I went out and bought some more)
2 sports bottom from Giordano (I ran of pants to wear to the jungles!)
1 candy striped Union Bay polo shirt
1 Union Bay sling bag
1 ellesse carry-all bag
1 Yogjakarta airport carry-all bag
1 pair of Kickers pumps
3 pairs of Union Bay sock
3 assorted designs of coasters
2 wood painting featuring geckos and crocodiles
2 half A4 canvas painting from the streets of Yogja
1 pair of bejeweled sandals
4 books: Saman, Children of All Countries, 5 People You Meet In Hell and Jakarta Market. The first 2 is by local author, the 3rd one is a parody of Mitchel Albon’s 5 People You Meet In Heaven and Jakarta Market is a cute illustrated books of a typical local Pasar Tani.
5 magazines: Maxim, Cosmo Australia, Cosmo UK, Glamour and Electronic Gamers Monthly
5 Movie VCDs: Arisan, Banyu Biru, Janji Joni, Tentang Dia and Biola Tak Berdawai
3 Music CDs: A compilation album containg a song by this group called sova, a local R’N'B band called Tofu and another compilation album of the latest hits.
8 t-shirts
2 men’s shirt with local Papuan motifs
6 small coin purses in Papuan Batik
10 pencils with cute carved "heads" for my nieces & nephews
3 boxes of Bakpiah in cheese & durian flavour
Assorted local chips & crackers
1 tempered metal bracelet
1 bejewelled, over the top, bracelet
3 fresh water pearl necklaces
1 set of purple fresh water pearl bracelet
4 beaded, chunky necklaces
1 pair of earrings made from green stones
2 striped scarves: in purple and red
1 playing cards "Java Shadow Puppets"
1 Chivas Regal (by request)
2 boxes of Toblerone Pralines
1 box of Mini Kitkat (by request)
1 coffee mug featuring caricatures of indigenous people of Papua
…and an assortment of supplements, jamu and other things. I came with one bag, I returned with 4. Go figure. Did I blow a small fortune? You bet I did.
I already accumulated 4 days of replacement Puasa. Sigh.
I need to get worm medication. Make mental note. I must. I must. I must.
I wanted to go near the rudder then Wita snapped "Shit happens okay, so don’t get too near you might get your head chopped off!"
Our futile attempt at hitchiking in Kelila when our jeep broke down.
I snapped this while waiting for jeep to be repaired. Then I sat on pigshit. Sigh.
-End-
