Leaving on A Jet Plane (2)

I think I should write this now before it’s too close to my departure. I know when the time comes I will be too emotional, and I hate showing tears in public. I’m known to be feisty and distant, while secretly I’m helplessly sappy.

Living in Scotland would not be a problem at all to me (well, wait until winter comes and see how it goes, I might runaway to Brazil….), but leaving Jakarta is so damn too hard!

5 years ago when back from Sydney and started to work and live in here, I cursed myself for the first 6 months. I suffered from flu and sore throat for the first 3 months, because after lived in such a clean city like Sydney, my body hadn’t been well adjusted with the infamous pollution of Jakarta. I was back with a great resistance. I complaint about too many and too rude people, too crowded spaces, no orders, no hygiene, no black and white-everything is negotiable, everything is a big chaos. Even for an Indonesian, back to Indonesia is a culture shock. I was so miserable, and just by looking at the picture of Sydney Harbor Bridge could send me in tears.

For the first 6 months I was trying to hard to get back to Sydney. I missed the city desperately, dreamed about going back there someday.

But then I started to grab the sense of the city. I started to have friends, to enjoy my job, to learn Indonesian (seriously, it was a big challenge to write a report in good Indonesian after having too many assignments in English, it’s like being brainwashed!), and to fall in love with the city.

Its road, which is full of guys who sell cigarettes, tissues, snacks, and water, means I don’t need to think about what to bring in the car; when I need water, I just need to pullover for a cold Teh Botol, no need to worry about where to park because practically we could stop anywhere, even below the sign of ‘no stop’….

Its food variety which is open until abnormal time, means when we’re hungry at 1 AM we know that nasi gila in Menteng is still open (well, it’s not the case now).

Its 11 million citizens means when I get trouble I’m sure there are people who are nosy enough to ask about what has happened and to offer some help.

And of course, all the indulgence of having helps, maids, drivers, porters, even supermarket staffs who are ready to take your shopping bags to the car or satpams whose job turn into a parking guy and are always ready to find a parking spot in busy malls and give directions to park, all places offer valet services for only 20 thousands rupiahs so there will be no questions about my parking skills.

All the special treatments to get ID card, passport renewal, driving license: no queue needed, just have someone did it for us, and all we need is to show up for picture taken and documents signed off, and voila!

No rules everywhere, so we could talk on the phone while driving, driving while boozy, and I mentioned about parking everywhere, and if we are crazy enough, we even can hire police in motorcycle to take us to important places (and make us feeling like president!).

And all the luxury of being pampered! We can go to salon for styling our hair 3 times a week and it’s still affordable, we can go for a massage, spa, reflexology, manicure-pedicure, at anytime we want, most of the time without having to have appointment in advance. We can go to skin doctor and hair treatment specialist, and being treated as princesses with first class service. We can go out for dinner everyday, brunch every Sunday, and no need to book an appointment, no need to queue, no need to face rude maitre d’ who thinks his/her restaurant is the most trendiest place in the world and we are at his/her mercy.

All the happening places, one club is packed on Tuesdays, the others on Wednesdays, Thursdays, and most of the clubs will be crazily busy on weekends. We can go out and dance and have fun 7 days a week, and most of the places are not closed before 2 AM.

Of course I will miss it all.

But what’s the hardest part of leaving? It’s not the city, it’s not the job I love and am proud of very much, but it’s my friends and family.

I know I’m lucky to get such good friends, people who are put up with me even though I’m being bossy, feisty, nagging, demanding, and all that. It’s easy to find friends, but it’s so much hard to find good friends. Throw a party or offer free meal and drink, call everyone and people will turn up in no time. But I’m lucky to find true friends. Those who rub my back when I’m down, and are ready to offer helps when I need. Those who listen to my complaint about life, jobs, love, and stuffs. I will miss the time of having coffee with the girls and talking bollocks until we get kicked out by Coffee Club Staffs past 11 PM. I will miss the time of barhopping and partying, and know for sure that if I do something stupid (like too drunk to get home), my friends will take care of me and vice versa. I will miss the time of sending totally nonsense SMS about everything, from the size of an artists’ boobs until the color of a guy’s nails. From the shape of someone’s rooftop until the way a bartender’s walk. I will miss calling my friends from work after 8.00 PM and complain about being hungry and demand them to accompany me for late meals. I will miss telling stories about my work to my friends and although they have no clue about what I’m doing, they listen patiently, and although none of us really understands what Prila does, we still try (she’s like Chandler!). I will miss the time of having coffee at Friday night at Coffee Club and suddenly discussed seriously about tax system in Indonesia (no idea what had gotten into us, but the discussion was very serious! Imagine that, on Friday night! Ugh). I will miss the time of slipping out of office for lunch and quick gossip and get back to office after 2PM (and don’t really care of people glaring at me).

See now I’ve got to stop writing…….

Speak Your Mind


To help prevent spam, please answer the match challange: *

CommentLuv badge