It may not mean nothin to y'all
But understand nothing was done for me
So I don't plan on stopping at all
I want this shit forever
---
I want this success, and I'm afraid I'll lose sight of just how much I want it.
If this summer taught me anything...it humbled me and reminded me how that nothing is ever going to come easily. This summer showed me the prize -- the lifestyle I could live if I want it badly enough, and if I prove this want through devoted hard work.
But what is success? It comes in three parts for me and my greatest hope is to be able to gather all three.
1. Money - to not have to wonder where my next meal is coming from, to not have to worry about paying the rent. Or to just buy myself a nice NYC apartment. (: And to be able to buy the clothes/products/shoes that I just LOOK at right now.
2. Happiness - hopefully I'll be able to keep my friends & family close as I try to struggle to the top, and hopefully the rewards will be reaped among us all. A summer in Indonesia taught me the style of Indonesian hospitality that I so respect. It is endlessly giving, thoughtful, and conscious of the needs of others. It's something that I want to be able to incorporate into my life and something that really makes me happy. ALSO, of course, the happiness of doing something that I truly love.
3. Change - am I changing the world? Am I at least changing how some people view the world, or how some people think? Am I changing myself for the better?
I guess this is my reminder to strive.
---
I'm preparing to leave Cupertino once again. Just one year ago, my mind was frantic and my thoughts were scattered. Excited but excited (and anxious) in a thousand different directions. Balance is coming to me slowly and it's going to be the main focus for me this year...
and with that
I wish us all luck. (:
Showing posts with label Indonesia. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Indonesia. Show all posts
9.18.2009
9.12.2009
where to begin
It's been so long since I've actually written any of the thoughts crossing my mind that I don't know where to start. How do I even go about doing this thoroughly?
Where I left off...I was still in Jakarta at my aunt's house. After that, I spent 3 days in Jogja being a tourist and visiting various Buddhist/Hindu temples. I also watched a show about Ramayana that I really enjoyed, and I ate lots of hella CHEAP & DELICIOUS local food. If you know me, you know I love the cheap & delicious. SIGH, we had dinner for six for twelve dollars. And it was SOO yummyyyy...okay, my mouth is watering. And my mom hasn't gone to Costco to re-stock our house yet, so all I've eaten so far is crackers from the plane. No more talk of food.
After Jogja, we returned to my aunt's house to re-pack for the weekend at my grandma's house. A 2-hour drive away, it's in a city called Bandung, and is infested with mosquitoes. My bug bite count probably quadrupled thanks to Bandung.
The first thing I do whenever I get to my grandma's house is look at the photos on the walls. There are tons of them, pictures of me and my cousins and my aunts and uncles at various ages. The most recent one of me is actually from when I was like 12 probably...this must change. But there are pictures of me at three dressed up in snow gear in Ohio, and pictures of me and my grandpa and grandma and cousins at Disneyland when I was six...times I don't really remember, but times I'm glad that my grandma is documenting. There's also a relatively recent family portrait; but sadly my family is absent. I felt like it was kind of mirroring the current situation: just a visit, 3 weeks of peeking into the family life that my cousins live every day. The people in that portrait welcome us with smiles and open arms but soon enough we always turn away.
There's also an 8x10 of my grandfather, who passed away when I was about ten or eleven. His face looks so serious but I've seen pictures where he's holding my sister and he's laughing and it looks like it comes so easily. I see some resemblance in my mother and aunts when I look at his picture, and I think about all the old stories that my mom used to tell of him, like how he didn't get to finish his education, and instead had to work hard to help support his family. And how he burned his one pair of socks while trying to let them dry...hahah. But when it comes down to it, I don't really remember this man, and it frustrates me. I feel like I have no right to miss him, but I guess I just wish he were around (or I were around more) for us to try and be friends. My one memory of him is probably from when I was eight or nine. He was smoking outside, looking pensive and reserved as usual, and my mom nudged me to go outside and tell him to stop smoking. I was a little reluctant to do so, I think at that age I was a little intimidated by him, and ashamed of my sad grasp on the language. But I tiptoed outside and stood next to him, and looked at him and asked in broken Indonesian, "please don't smoke, ok?" I remember him smiling quietly and putting out his cigarette...but that's pretty much all I have. Maybe one more memory of him retrieving a ball that my cousin and I lost...but for the most part, I know him only from stories and recollections.
I tried harder to get to know my grandma for this reason. She's an excellent chef, better at English than my grandpa was (I think) and still a rather active and very generous woman. I just liked being around her because I feel like she glues our family together. Everyone looks to her with such respect and gratitude and in turn, she takes care of everyone very well.
Just being in my grandma's house feels kind of like a time machine. It startled me when I realized that that was the exact house my mother grew up in. I was looking at old photographs and saw the same clocks and cabinets, the same set up...it was pretty crazy. I visualized my mom watching horror movies alone at night and then tiptoeing to her room fearfully...and then retraced her footsteps as I went to bed. I sat around the same dining table that my mom and her siblings and parents had breakfast and lunch and dinner around for countless years, walked around the same house that my mom's brother lived in for his tragically short life. The uncle I'll never know, aside from seeing his youthful face in old pictures. I can't really describe how I feel when I'm at my grandma's house, but it feels like being home, and it's one of my favorite places in the world.
Another thing about Bandung -- it's one of those towns where everyone knows everyone. Or it used to be that kind of town, at least. I met a tofu vendor who used to sell tofu to my mom when she was my age and younger, and I visited the doctor around the corner that my mom used to see...and went to the apothecary to pick up cough medicine, the same apothecary my grandma used to send my mom to pick up prescriptions. The owners still remembered her and invited her in and started a long conversation, in a trademark of Indonesian hospitality. It was pretty crazy realizing how much of my mom's history took place in that town.
...
Where I left off...I was still in Jakarta at my aunt's house. After that, I spent 3 days in Jogja being a tourist and visiting various Buddhist/Hindu temples. I also watched a show about Ramayana that I really enjoyed, and I ate lots of hella CHEAP & DELICIOUS local food. If you know me, you know I love the cheap & delicious. SIGH, we had dinner for six for twelve dollars. And it was SOO yummyyyy...okay, my mouth is watering. And my mom hasn't gone to Costco to re-stock our house yet, so all I've eaten so far is crackers from the plane. No more talk of food.
After Jogja, we returned to my aunt's house to re-pack for the weekend at my grandma's house. A 2-hour drive away, it's in a city called Bandung, and is infested with mosquitoes. My bug bite count probably quadrupled thanks to Bandung.
The first thing I do whenever I get to my grandma's house is look at the photos on the walls. There are tons of them, pictures of me and my cousins and my aunts and uncles at various ages. The most recent one of me is actually from when I was like 12 probably...this must change. But there are pictures of me at three dressed up in snow gear in Ohio, and pictures of me and my grandpa and grandma and cousins at Disneyland when I was six...times I don't really remember, but times I'm glad that my grandma is documenting. There's also a relatively recent family portrait; but sadly my family is absent. I felt like it was kind of mirroring the current situation: just a visit, 3 weeks of peeking into the family life that my cousins live every day. The people in that portrait welcome us with smiles and open arms but soon enough we always turn away.
There's also an 8x10 of my grandfather, who passed away when I was about ten or eleven. His face looks so serious but I've seen pictures where he's holding my sister and he's laughing and it looks like it comes so easily. I see some resemblance in my mother and aunts when I look at his picture, and I think about all the old stories that my mom used to tell of him, like how he didn't get to finish his education, and instead had to work hard to help support his family. And how he burned his one pair of socks while trying to let them dry...hahah. But when it comes down to it, I don't really remember this man, and it frustrates me. I feel like I have no right to miss him, but I guess I just wish he were around (or I were around more) for us to try and be friends. My one memory of him is probably from when I was eight or nine. He was smoking outside, looking pensive and reserved as usual, and my mom nudged me to go outside and tell him to stop smoking. I was a little reluctant to do so, I think at that age I was a little intimidated by him, and ashamed of my sad grasp on the language. But I tiptoed outside and stood next to him, and looked at him and asked in broken Indonesian, "please don't smoke, ok?" I remember him smiling quietly and putting out his cigarette...but that's pretty much all I have. Maybe one more memory of him retrieving a ball that my cousin and I lost...but for the most part, I know him only from stories and recollections.
I tried harder to get to know my grandma for this reason. She's an excellent chef, better at English than my grandpa was (I think) and still a rather active and very generous woman. I just liked being around her because I feel like she glues our family together. Everyone looks to her with such respect and gratitude and in turn, she takes care of everyone very well.
Just being in my grandma's house feels kind of like a time machine. It startled me when I realized that that was the exact house my mother grew up in. I was looking at old photographs and saw the same clocks and cabinets, the same set up...it was pretty crazy. I visualized my mom watching horror movies alone at night and then tiptoeing to her room fearfully...and then retraced her footsteps as I went to bed. I sat around the same dining table that my mom and her siblings and parents had breakfast and lunch and dinner around for countless years, walked around the same house that my mom's brother lived in for his tragically short life. The uncle I'll never know, aside from seeing his youthful face in old pictures. I can't really describe how I feel when I'm at my grandma's house, but it feels like being home, and it's one of my favorite places in the world.
Another thing about Bandung -- it's one of those towns where everyone knows everyone. Or it used to be that kind of town, at least. I met a tofu vendor who used to sell tofu to my mom when she was my age and younger, and I visited the doctor around the corner that my mom used to see...and went to the apothecary to pick up cough medicine, the same apothecary my grandma used to send my mom to pick up prescriptions. The owners still remembered her and invited her in and started a long conversation, in a trademark of Indonesian hospitality. It was pretty crazy realizing how much of my mom's history took place in that town.
...
8.25.2009
an alternate life
Growing up in Indonesia would be so much different from the childhood I had. For one thing, family would be a lot more important to me, and I can see myself being much closer to my parents than I am now. Just being here obviously puts a stronger emphasis on family and already I'm appreciating my family more as I hear stories from the past. Yesterday I sat around the kitchen table with my grandma and my mom, making sweet rice cakes and listening to them retell funny stories of when my mom was little. This seems like such an everyday task but it's something I can only do once every three or four years, and I feel like there's something wrong with that.
Maybe my life would be more solidly grounded in family and in religion if I had grown up here. My aunt talked last night about my older cousin who is dating a Chinese girl, and she said something about religion being a very important factor in deciding who to marry or date. I didn't want to tell her that religion was definitely not an important factor in my life. And it made me wonder how far I fell from the mark -- my mom tried raising me Catholic as she had been raised, but who I am now, in thought and in action, is pretty far from the Catholic girl she tried to raise.
Considering this aspect of religion made me consider everything else about my life in the US. It's easy now to pinpoint the source of all the struggles between me and my parents; it's a cultural barrier that we both can't seem to breach. My sister and I strive for an American lifestyle of independence, freedom, and an exploration of different religions/schools of thought before sticking to one. My parents want us to have the bringing up that they had, centered around family, tradition, and respect for elders, including following their advice in all subject matters.
I'm trying to imagine growing up here. My aunts in Jakarta live in big, well-designed houses, with several nice cars and plenty of helpers and chauffeurs, and send their kids to private schools. My family lives in an apartment with two Hondas, my sister and I are in charge of cleaning the house and my mother does all the cooking. Everyone serves as a chauffeur when available, and my sister and I attended public schools since elementary school.
Had I grown up in Indonesia, would I live in a big house like my cousins did? Would I see them every morning as we get dropped off at the same school? Would I be happier this way, readily accepting and prolonging a tradition of growing up in Indonesia? I can't decide for myself if I would be happier, but I know for a fact that my parents are happier here. They're surrounded by their family and old friends, and aren't treated with the disrespect that foreigners sometimes encounter in the US. Which makes me question why they moved to the US in the first place.
It was a big, courageous move for them, I know. And I have a new-found sense of respect for them when I think of what they left behind. I wonder now if they're satisfied with what they have in the US, and if they ever regret their decision. If they ever look at me and my sister, their Americanized daughters, and regret raising us in the US, so far away from their home and our family.
It does give me a sense of regret. I never really understood where they were coming from, I guess, and during our past visits to Indonesia, I didn't really think about all this; it was just another vacation. I don't know what's different this time, but I guess I'm trying more to appreciate this trip because these visits are so few and far between. I've been listening to my aunts and grandma retell stories and talk about my cousins growing up and all that...and it's left me feeling like I'm missing out, being so far away.
I'd love to be able to watch my cousins grow up and count them among my dearest friends, to talk to my grandma without having to ask my mother to translate a word that I don't understand. I'd love to hang out with my cousins and not feel like such a fish out of water, to not have to feel self conscious about my American-ness and to not have to wonder if they think I'm some stuck-up, spoiled girl from far away.
I don't know. Surrounded by a close-knit family that I'm a distant part of is making me question a lot of my own actions and desires, past and present.
Maybe my life would be more solidly grounded in family and in religion if I had grown up here. My aunt talked last night about my older cousin who is dating a Chinese girl, and she said something about religion being a very important factor in deciding who to marry or date. I didn't want to tell her that religion was definitely not an important factor in my life. And it made me wonder how far I fell from the mark -- my mom tried raising me Catholic as she had been raised, but who I am now, in thought and in action, is pretty far from the Catholic girl she tried to raise.
Considering this aspect of religion made me consider everything else about my life in the US. It's easy now to pinpoint the source of all the struggles between me and my parents; it's a cultural barrier that we both can't seem to breach. My sister and I strive for an American lifestyle of independence, freedom, and an exploration of different religions/schools of thought before sticking to one. My parents want us to have the bringing up that they had, centered around family, tradition, and respect for elders, including following their advice in all subject matters.
I'm trying to imagine growing up here. My aunts in Jakarta live in big, well-designed houses, with several nice cars and plenty of helpers and chauffeurs, and send their kids to private schools. My family lives in an apartment with two Hondas, my sister and I are in charge of cleaning the house and my mother does all the cooking. Everyone serves as a chauffeur when available, and my sister and I attended public schools since elementary school.
Had I grown up in Indonesia, would I live in a big house like my cousins did? Would I see them every morning as we get dropped off at the same school? Would I be happier this way, readily accepting and prolonging a tradition of growing up in Indonesia? I can't decide for myself if I would be happier, but I know for a fact that my parents are happier here. They're surrounded by their family and old friends, and aren't treated with the disrespect that foreigners sometimes encounter in the US. Which makes me question why they moved to the US in the first place.
It was a big, courageous move for them, I know. And I have a new-found sense of respect for them when I think of what they left behind. I wonder now if they're satisfied with what they have in the US, and if they ever regret their decision. If they ever look at me and my sister, their Americanized daughters, and regret raising us in the US, so far away from their home and our family.
It does give me a sense of regret. I never really understood where they were coming from, I guess, and during our past visits to Indonesia, I didn't really think about all this; it was just another vacation. I don't know what's different this time, but I guess I'm trying more to appreciate this trip because these visits are so few and far between. I've been listening to my aunts and grandma retell stories and talk about my cousins growing up and all that...and it's left me feeling like I'm missing out, being so far away.
I'd love to be able to watch my cousins grow up and count them among my dearest friends, to talk to my grandma without having to ask my mother to translate a word that I don't understand. I'd love to hang out with my cousins and not feel like such a fish out of water, to not have to feel self conscious about my American-ness and to not have to wonder if they think I'm some stuck-up, spoiled girl from far away.
I don't know. Surrounded by a close-knit family that I'm a distant part of is making me question a lot of my own actions and desires, past and present.
8.24.2009
cousins
make me so happy! (:
Last night I went to a sushi place with two sets of aunts/uncles/cousins. There were five of us seated at the "kids table", messing around just like old times. I forgot that I was 18 years old and in college and just resorted to making stupid faces at my 9 year old cousin next to me. He never stops talking and is truly a laugh riot, which I absolutely adore.
I am very content here. But at the same time this lull in productivity makes me want to go back to school even more. I had a dream last night about being back in Irvine and it made me want to get a move on with my goals. I guess I just can't really forget what I want to accomplish, and being in a place where I can't get any closer to those achievements makes me feel distant and irrelevant. I've never been good at being patient, but I realize I just need to learn how to appreciate what every day brings me, whether it be a step closer to accomplishing something or simply a good day with my family.
Being here also makes me wonder how my life would be different if I were born here instead of in the US.
Last night I went to a sushi place with two sets of aunts/uncles/cousins. There were five of us seated at the "kids table", messing around just like old times. I forgot that I was 18 years old and in college and just resorted to making stupid faces at my 9 year old cousin next to me. He never stops talking and is truly a laugh riot, which I absolutely adore.
I am very content here. But at the same time this lull in productivity makes me want to go back to school even more. I had a dream last night about being back in Irvine and it made me want to get a move on with my goals. I guess I just can't really forget what I want to accomplish, and being in a place where I can't get any closer to those achievements makes me feel distant and irrelevant. I've never been good at being patient, but I realize I just need to learn how to appreciate what every day brings me, whether it be a step closer to accomplishing something or simply a good day with my family.
Being here also makes me wonder how my life would be different if I were born here instead of in the US.
8.23.2009
coming home, part three
I am finally in Jakarta. And quite exhausted. The past two days were pretty empty days, mostly spent sitting around waiting for planes that kept getting delayed. I won't go into detail but I will just say it took an extra 24 hours to actually make it to Jakarta, with a couple spare hours spent in Singapore with my aunt and adorable little cousins.
Before I go on I guess I should recap the rest of the Hong Kong leg of my trip. Day 2 was spent in normal tourist behavior, I guess. We went on a tram that was chugging straight up to Victoria Peak at what seemed like a four o'clock angle. The view from the top was absolutely remarkable! I can't wait to post pictures but I doubt I'll be able to until I'm back in the US. Anyway we lingered for a little bit but the blistering heat discouraged us from staying any longer.
We spent the afternoon lingering in cafes, exploring the IFC mall, and getting better acquainted with the MTR system. Dinnertime found us at a small and delicious restaurant tucked into a corner of the city, close to the water and our next destination, the Avenue of Stars.
Something of the HK version of Hollywood Blvd, the avenue was set right on the water and gave us an amazing view of the lit-up city sandwiched between dark sky and reflective waters. As 8 o'clock rolled around, the Symphony of Lights began and the skyscrapers across from us lit up, syncing with the music that was being projected from behind us. It was extremely well-coordinated and pretty much blew me away...I love watching light shows and things like that. The last time I was in a similar state of awe was probably last summer at the Disneyland fireworks show. SIGH<3
Day three was uneventful and consisted of the usual traveling bore - arriving at the airport early, waiting in line to check in, waiting for planes, etc. The failure of the plane to launch after four hours on the tarmac brought us a free night at the airport hotel as well as free dinner and breakfast.
I observed the crowd of delayed passengers and saw that almost all of them were angry. It got me thinking about stress and anger and how it all really just gets passed on for no real reason, and it was kind of frustrating. Honestly in situations like these anger will get you nowhere. I felt really bad for the guy trying to deal with all the vicious Asians, he looked no more than 21 and there was a look of confusion and panic on his face. I guess all these negative feelings just end up becoming a vicious cycle and they influence our environment for the worse. Honestly, I didn't mind the wait at all. I was just thinking that these people needed to chill and realize that it was not a huge deal.
Plus I had my third book of the trip to keep me company. Usually I hate waiting but now I really don't mind... I just whip out Obama's Dreams From My Father and keep reading about our president. As I read about his childhood in Jakarta, his descriptions came to life in my head, because I've seen everything he described before. In fact, I was heading there. It made me feel a connection to the president, as trivial and unrelated as it may be. This book is really becoming an inspiration for me, cheesy as that may sound. Oh and later on I found out that Obama was my aunt's friend's classmate in Indonesia...CRAZYY!
The next morning at 11 we were FINALLY in the air, and four hours later we were in Singapore, ready for another period of waiting. This time, since we had seven hours, my aunt picked us up and we settled at her house to catch up, eat, and see my cousins. They are 8 and 6, totally adorable, and EXTREMELY high energy.
The flight to Jakarta was a short one and I completely conked out. My other aunt picked us up at the airport and I fell asleep on the way home, the conversation occurring in Indonesian between the grown-ups sounding like music to my ears.
Coming to Indonesia feels oddly like coming home. Even though I can count the number of times I've visited on one hand, coming back to visit was kind of a sigh of relief. I guess it just feels familiar and I've had nothing but positive experiences here, what with spending so much time with all my family and all the relaxation. I guess some of my fondest memories are from the times I've spent in Indonesia, like last time when I was 15.
All my relatives stayed at a villa nestled in the countryside for a weekend. It was the perfect getaway: expansive fields, a cool stream nearby, and a well furnished and comfortable villa to house us all once night fell. Despite the fact that the house was more than able to accommodate us, everyone decided to sleep outside. We pitched tents by the stream, all the kids in one tent whispering and laughing as the adults told us to quiet down. I don't recall ever feeling more happy. Everything else is just a string of memories: laughing at the puppy sliding down the hills on his belly, exploring the stream and losing our sandals, sitting outside eating bananas and watching my talkative little cousin march around the soccer field barefoot, bossing the adults around.
I guess Indonesia is the perfect vacation spot because I feel like a kid again. I'm not the one with responsibilities and a life schedule to plan, I'm just another cousin or niece or granddaughter. I hardly even know the language, too, so I'm not expected to converse fluently with the adults or company. It feels good being a kid again, being around my cousins reminds me of how simple and happy they are and I just feel a weight lifted off my shoulders when I'm playing with them. No judgments, no need to impress, no desire for approval. And it helps that my cousins are all a very talkative, high-energy, and sociable bunch. I wish I could be around more to watch them grow up, though. The last three years since I've seen them have brought considerable change, both in height and personality. I'm always a little apprehensive right before I see them -- what if they don't remember me, or what if they've gotten so different from how I remember them? My last memories of them are so fond that I don't want to replace them, unless of course with better ones.
And I'm pretty sure better memories are close on the horizon. This weekend we're all heading to a tea plantation complete with horses! I am excited. To say the least. (:
I watched two movies on the plane that I really enjoyed: Sunshine Cleaning and Big Fish. Both nearly had me to tears haha. GO WATCH if you haven't already! Time for lunch with my aunt and grandma.
Before I go on I guess I should recap the rest of the Hong Kong leg of my trip. Day 2 was spent in normal tourist behavior, I guess. We went on a tram that was chugging straight up to Victoria Peak at what seemed like a four o'clock angle. The view from the top was absolutely remarkable! I can't wait to post pictures but I doubt I'll be able to until I'm back in the US. Anyway we lingered for a little bit but the blistering heat discouraged us from staying any longer.
We spent the afternoon lingering in cafes, exploring the IFC mall, and getting better acquainted with the MTR system. Dinnertime found us at a small and delicious restaurant tucked into a corner of the city, close to the water and our next destination, the Avenue of Stars.
Something of the HK version of Hollywood Blvd, the avenue was set right on the water and gave us an amazing view of the lit-up city sandwiched between dark sky and reflective waters. As 8 o'clock rolled around, the Symphony of Lights began and the skyscrapers across from us lit up, syncing with the music that was being projected from behind us. It was extremely well-coordinated and pretty much blew me away...I love watching light shows and things like that. The last time I was in a similar state of awe was probably last summer at the Disneyland fireworks show. SIGH<3
Day three was uneventful and consisted of the usual traveling bore - arriving at the airport early, waiting in line to check in, waiting for planes, etc. The failure of the plane to launch after four hours on the tarmac brought us a free night at the airport hotel as well as free dinner and breakfast.
I observed the crowd of delayed passengers and saw that almost all of them were angry. It got me thinking about stress and anger and how it all really just gets passed on for no real reason, and it was kind of frustrating. Honestly in situations like these anger will get you nowhere. I felt really bad for the guy trying to deal with all the vicious Asians, he looked no more than 21 and there was a look of confusion and panic on his face. I guess all these negative feelings just end up becoming a vicious cycle and they influence our environment for the worse. Honestly, I didn't mind the wait at all. I was just thinking that these people needed to chill and realize that it was not a huge deal.
Plus I had my third book of the trip to keep me company. Usually I hate waiting but now I really don't mind... I just whip out Obama's Dreams From My Father and keep reading about our president. As I read about his childhood in Jakarta, his descriptions came to life in my head, because I've seen everything he described before. In fact, I was heading there. It made me feel a connection to the president, as trivial and unrelated as it may be. This book is really becoming an inspiration for me, cheesy as that may sound. Oh and later on I found out that Obama was my aunt's friend's classmate in Indonesia...CRAZYY!
The next morning at 11 we were FINALLY in the air, and four hours later we were in Singapore, ready for another period of waiting. This time, since we had seven hours, my aunt picked us up and we settled at her house to catch up, eat, and see my cousins. They are 8 and 6, totally adorable, and EXTREMELY high energy.
The flight to Jakarta was a short one and I completely conked out. My other aunt picked us up at the airport and I fell asleep on the way home, the conversation occurring in Indonesian between the grown-ups sounding like music to my ears.
Coming to Indonesia feels oddly like coming home. Even though I can count the number of times I've visited on one hand, coming back to visit was kind of a sigh of relief. I guess it just feels familiar and I've had nothing but positive experiences here, what with spending so much time with all my family and all the relaxation. I guess some of my fondest memories are from the times I've spent in Indonesia, like last time when I was 15.
All my relatives stayed at a villa nestled in the countryside for a weekend. It was the perfect getaway: expansive fields, a cool stream nearby, and a well furnished and comfortable villa to house us all once night fell. Despite the fact that the house was more than able to accommodate us, everyone decided to sleep outside. We pitched tents by the stream, all the kids in one tent whispering and laughing as the adults told us to quiet down. I don't recall ever feeling more happy. Everything else is just a string of memories: laughing at the puppy sliding down the hills on his belly, exploring the stream and losing our sandals, sitting outside eating bananas and watching my talkative little cousin march around the soccer field barefoot, bossing the adults around.
I guess Indonesia is the perfect vacation spot because I feel like a kid again. I'm not the one with responsibilities and a life schedule to plan, I'm just another cousin or niece or granddaughter. I hardly even know the language, too, so I'm not expected to converse fluently with the adults or company. It feels good being a kid again, being around my cousins reminds me of how simple and happy they are and I just feel a weight lifted off my shoulders when I'm playing with them. No judgments, no need to impress, no desire for approval. And it helps that my cousins are all a very talkative, high-energy, and sociable bunch. I wish I could be around more to watch them grow up, though. The last three years since I've seen them have brought considerable change, both in height and personality. I'm always a little apprehensive right before I see them -- what if they don't remember me, or what if they've gotten so different from how I remember them? My last memories of them are so fond that I don't want to replace them, unless of course with better ones.
And I'm pretty sure better memories are close on the horizon. This weekend we're all heading to a tea plantation complete with horses! I am excited. To say the least. (:
I watched two movies on the plane that I really enjoyed: Sunshine Cleaning and Big Fish. Both nearly had me to tears haha. GO WATCH if you haven't already! Time for lunch with my aunt and grandma.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)