Journeys, Part 1

Journey Begins


The plane took off from Soekarno-Hatta airport at 10.45, a half hour earlier than the supposed schedule, on a cloudy Sunday afternoon. The man was pleased, since he got himself a window seat. His mother was sitting next to him. He was a little nervous, since he was flying in an airline that he never flew with before. Especially since one of the airline's parent company's plane just went through a landing accident in Solo. However, the more-than-standard quality of the airline's stewardesses somehow soothed him a little. In other words, they were of catwalk-model quality.

He had always loved the window seat. He enjoyed looking through the double-glassed hole, looking down at the earth as it grew smaller and smaller, as if all the buildings, the passing cars and motorcycles, the houses, the fields, were shrinking and shrinking. First, into matchbox-sized models, the landscape becoming something that you would find in a drawing during geography class. Later, it would completely become undiscernible, covered by clouds. He had always felt that there was something magical in the the way a plane takes off. And such was the same when the plane was about to land. It was magic, looking at the landscape growing larger and larger as the plane descends. It felt as if toy houses and matchbox cars were growing larger and larger and were slowly transforming from their small, dreamlike size into their large, reality size as the plane touched down.

He arrived in Jogjakarta earlier than expected. His father was already waiting. Business trips sure had their own perks, such as a more expensive flight (albeit with a different schedule, that is why the father arrived earlier). Alas, such thing only applied to his father for this instance. He came for his graduation, while his father came to give a presentation during a seminar in Semarang. He doesn't mind. He got his own catwalk-model quality entertainment during the flight.

Having a good business friend sure has its own advantages. In this matter, one of them was being provided with a car and a chauffeur. Though it was not available during the short commute from the airport to the hotel (they had to use the cab), but for the remainder of their stay in Jogja, they didn't have to worry about transportation. Thanks to the father and his good business friend.

For the next two days, the man's schedule was full with graduation preparations, meeting of friends, dinners with the father's business relation and of course, the graduation itself. There were a generous amount of photos taken; a generous amount of money paid for the photos; a generous amount of time used; a generous amount of the word 'congratulations' spoken, and of course, due to the thick nature of the graduation cape they forced you to wear, a generous amount of perspiration sacrificed to the gods of graduation ceremonies (if ever such things existed).

There was a strong urge for the man to go to Borobudur. His friends had denied the trip to this so-called 'one of the wonders of the world' in his previous visits to Jogjakarta. Since he felt that there lies only a small chance for him to go back to Jogjakarta in the future, he felt motivated to go to this place that was considered holy by the buddhist people. He felt that maybe, being there at the top would bring him omens, good omens for his future. The father and the mother agreed to his plea, and shortly after all graduation matters were taken care of, they went there with the business relation's car and chauffeur.

Their arrival at Borobudur was greeted by souvenir, food and beverage sellers, eager to sell any of their wares to the visitting tourists. They were quite 'pushy', figuratively and literally. A very uncomfortable situation. On one side, there were a feeling of pitty, for since the many bombings, the number of visitting tourists (especially foreign ones) had dwindled, turning the once lucrative tourism business into nothing more than a sad state of affair. But on the other side, there was disgust for their overzealous and outragous effort in promoting their 'tourism' wares. The man overheard one of the hawkers peddling a miniature of 'becak' for US$350 to one of the visitting foreign tourists. They were all over these tourists like bees crawling all over their hives.

Not an omen the man was expecting.

However, they were there and there's no other choice but to move forward. Quite a generous amount of pictures were taken (that is, until his digital camera went out of battery). Reluctant to use his Olympus camera, trying to reserve the film inside it, he used his handphone digital camera. His parents waited at the base of the structure while he climbed the steep steps that led to the stupas on top. The view was great, worth sweating for.

Being trustful is sometimes a disadvantage (a point that is arguable, of course). But on that day, such sentiment was true. In this case, they trusted the arrow signs with the word 'exit' printed on them. And some guy with a horn in his hand hollering at passerbys to follow the 'exit' sign. It was like trapped within a maze, or maybe one of those queue lines you'd find in an amusement park (think Dufan). But the difference was that on your left and right weren't railings, but souvenir shops with hawkers being figuratively and literally pushy.

So much for good omens.

That Wednesday was closed by a parting dinner with the aforementioned business friend of the father. The next day they will continue their travel. The would be visitting Wonosobo and Banjarnegara. And in Banjarnegara, they would be visitting some old ghosts in a graveyard.

to be continued...