Orissa Sofyan

Hiburan-hiburan seru masa kecil (1990s)

2011-11-08T16:12:00.004+01:00

Waktu kecil, sebelum ada internet,TV kabel, Playstation, Blackberry, dan komputer, orang tua saya 'lumayan' memanjakan saya dengan hiburan bermanfaat--ngga harus terbaru atau tercanggih, tapi yang penting menghibur... dan (mudah-mudahah) mencerdaskan. Mainan di rumah saya... standar lah, kadang ngikutin trend juga. Karena saya cewek, saya punya boneka, stuffed animals, orang-orangan kertas, dan alat masak-masakan kayu buatan Tasikmalaya. Koleksi Barbie saya juga lumayan seru dan terurus, sampai adik cewe saya yang gendut itu lahir dan ngerusak semuanya. Dan sebagai anak yang tumbuh di era tahun 1990-an, saya juga sempet punya Tamagotchi (jenis peliharaannya: T-rex).

Hiburan gadget di rumah saya bisa dibilang ketinggalan jaman dan terbatas. Hiburan tercanggih di rumah saya dulu adalah TV dan laser disc player yang (1) cuman boleh dipake atas seizin ortu; dan (2) ngga bisa sering-sering dipake juga karena sewa 1 film laser disc aja kehitung mahal. Saya inget, film favorit saya waktu kecil yaitu Beethoven (1992), Flipper (1996), dan Jumanji (1995). Jaman laser disc, belum ada tuh yang namanya subtitle. Nah berhubung, itu adalah film-film Hollywood, mau ngga mau saya nonton tanpa subtitle. Ngerti ngga ngerti, yang penting nonton film, bro!

Ada juga Nintendo Entertainment System. Mainan elektronik buatan tahun 1990-an itu cuman dipake buat main Super Mario Bros. Itu pun seringnya dimainin ibu saya karena dia juga demen sama Mario dan Luigi.

Hiburan ngga terbatas yang diizinkan di rumah saya adalah buku. Baca buku adalah hobi yang diwajibkan ayah saya. Ayah saya bisa dibilang pelit, tapi dia selalu mau ngeluarin uang banyak buat beli sesuatu yang layak untuk dibaca anak-anaknya--dari mulai komik, majalah anak-anak, buku dongeng, sampai katalog produk. Saking banyaknya koleksi buku saya di rumah, saya sempet buka perpustakaan mini--sedihnya, karena ngga terurus dengan baik, banyak buku-buku saya itu sekarang ini entah di mana.

Untuk urusan 'pergaulan' dengan anak-anak sekomplek, saya juga dimodalin sepeda. Maksudnya, ibu saya lebih senang kalau saya main sama anak-anak sebaya saya dibandingin ngajentul* di rumah main Barbie atau Nintendo atau orang-orangan kertas. Semakin jauh jangkauan 'pergaulan' saya, semakin saya bangga loh--apalagi kalau udah kenal sama anak-anak seumuran yang rumahnya beda RT/RW. Saking 'liar'-nya saya, saya suka diomongin tetangga, "Aduh, anak perempuan koq maennya jauh-jauh gitu. Emang ngga dicari sama mama-nya?". Nah, selama saya pulang ke rumah sebelum magrib, ibu saya ngga bakal susah-susah nyariin saya. Dan apa yang saya dan anak-anak tetangga saya itu lakukan? Selain main ibu-ibuan atau dokter-dokteran, aktifitas favorit saya yaitu tukeran barang, misalnya stiker (yang dikoleksi dalam album), perangko (yang dikoleksi dalam album), batu dan kerang-kerangan (yang dikoleksi dalam toples), kertas surat, dan banyak lagi deh pokoknya.

Hiburan lain yang diizinkan (dan juga terbatas) adalah binatang peliharaan. Dari kecil saya selalu punya peliharaan: kucing, anjing, dan kelinci. Seringnya sih binatang domestik yang nemu di jalan. Saya pernah beberapa kali punya kucing, tapi yang paling saya inget sih si Meong, kucing yang saya pelihara dari kecil sampai dia sekarat--konon si doi mati di halaman tetangga. Nah, waktu adik saya belum sekolah, kerjaannya dia (selain makan) adalah nonton film India sama pembantu saya sambil nyari kutu kucing. Jadi setiap pulang sekolah, saya selalu ngelihat adegan yang sama: pembantu, adik saya, kucing, pencarian kutu kucing, dan film india. Si Meong yang pendiem ini sebenernya hidupnya sedikit menyedihkan karena adik saya tanpa sadar suka nge-bully dia. Hobi adik saya: jalan-jalan sore sambil bawa si Meong di baby-stroller, kadang-kadang malah si Meong dipakein baju manusia secara ngga layak...

Saya juga pernah punya kelinci yang namanya Jimjim. Sejarahnya: Si Jimjim ini sengaja saya beli di Lembang biar si Mpoy--kelincinya si Tante yang dititipin di rumah saya--ada temen main. Saya memutuskan milih Jimjim karena biarpun rambutnya jabrig dan berantakan, overall warna bulunya bagus. Nah terus temen saya nyeletuk, "Set dah nih kelinci, rambutnya jabrig kaya Jimmy Hendrix". Jadilah namanya Jimmy (atau Jimjim sebagai panggilan-sok-imut-nya).

Dari sekian jenis binatang peliharaan, saya paling suka melihara anjing. Seumur hidup saya udah 3 kali melihara anjing: 1 era anjing kampung random (yang ayah saya kasih makan dan akhirnya ngikutin ke rumah), 1 era labrador retriever bernama Bipbip, dan--yang sekarang ini--1 era well-trained and well-cared golden retriever. Buat saya, binatang ini adalah trully man's best friend: loyal, pintar, playful, menyenangkan, dan lucu.

Ada cerita sedih di era Bipbip. Jadi si Bipbip ini tinggal di rumah sejak puppy (umurnya kira-kira masih sebulan-an). Sama nasibnya kaya si Meong, si Bipbip ini suka diajak jalan-jalan sore pake baby-stroller sama adik saya. Karena sering dipertemukan sama tetangga (yang kebanyakan ngga welcome sama anjing), akhirnya munculah omongan-omongan ngga enak. Kejadian paling menyebalkan yang saya inget adalah waktu saya menemukan adik saya (lagi main sama Bipbip di halaman depan rumah saya) lagi dimarahin dan diceramahin seorang bapak-bapak tetangga, "Binatang najis dipelihara! Mau masuk neraka?". Adik saya cuma bisa bengong. Halllooooo! Ngga salah nih si Bapak marahin anak orang di rumahnya sendiri??
Bipbip tinggal sama kita kurang lebih setahun. Sampai suatu hari, saya dan adik saya bingung karena Bipbip ngga pulang-pulang. Pembantu saya bilang, si Bipbip ngikutin tukang koran dan mungkin ngga tau jalan pulang. Walaupun sedih, mau ngga mau kita merelakan kepergian Bipbip dengan harapan besok-besok dia balik lagi. Sepuluh taun kemudian, ibu saya akhirnya mengungkapkan kalau si Bipbip dikasihkan ke orang lain karena ibu saya ngga sanggup ngurusnya (terlepas dari kenyataan kalau dia juga sebenernya ngga suka anjing).

*) Dari Bahasa Sunda yang artinya 'nongkrong, ngga ngapa-ngapain'.

Puppy Max

2011-10-15T15:48:00.000+02:00

Maximus at age 3 months old with his fav toy, Oink.

Across the Baltic Sea in 5 Days with “Jan Huygen”

2011-09-22T09:19:00.001+02:00

Summer, mid-June 2010

“Jan Huygen” sailboat (named after the famous Dutch merchant, Jan Huygen van Linschoten)

Captain: Herman van Linschoten

Co-Captain: Anna Hoffmann

Co-co-Captain: Bo the boxer dog (†)

Overnight 1: Barhöft, Germany

Overnight 2: Nationalpark Vorpommersche Boddenlandschaft, Hiddensee Island, Germany

Overnight 3: Nysted Havn, Denmark

Overnight 4: Bagenkop, Denmark

Why was it super fun?

• I was very lucky to see a group of harbor porpoise whales swimming at surface near our boat! I was so amazed that I completely forgot to turn my camera on and take a picture of them.

• Jumping off of the boat to swim in the Baltic Sea was totally cool… literally. So how did it feel? FREAKIN’ FREEZING! Don’t get fooled by the sunshine! In mid-June, the water temperature at surface is still about 13-15 degree Celsius. I think tropical people like me need wetsuits, not bikinis.

More pictures here.

Many thanks to: Elmar, Katha, Herman, Anna, Bo, and of course all IB-Hamburg’s FSJ-lers Group IV 2009/2010.

Rederij van Linschoten: http://www.janhuygen.de/joomla/

Fear and Loathing in Amsterdam

2011-09-20T05:12:00.007+02:00

In November 2009, I went to Amsterdam with two friends. I arrived in the city at 4 PM, but it was winter, so I could tell that the nightlife of Amsterdam was just about to start.

Anyway, eating hash brownies and drinking space milkshake with 'the love potion' were not my reasons to visit Amsterdam in the first place. I swear! I wanted to wander around Amsterdam before wandering around my unconscious mind. So when I began not to feel my feet because of the cold, I decided to enter a coffee shop--a nice little coffee shop where people are not allowed to smoke cigarette, but are welcomed to smoke pot. It was 7 PM.

I thought, "What the hell, I'm eating those brownies!". So I ate a piece of harsh brownie and a glass of space milkshake. I didn't feel a thing, nor get dizzy. I felt like a toddler instead—eating a piece of normal home-made brownie with a glass of normal strawberry milkshake. Meanwhile, a group of young American boys (who, I believe, were not even twenty years old yet), passed us by, got out of the coffee shop, being high and laughing so hard that they couldn’t even walk. So I bought another piece of brownie. And then another piece. I had 3 pieces of harsh brownies in my stomach and still didn’t feel anything! My friends and I finally decided to continue wandering around the city. They have decided not to get high at all for some reasons I could never understand.

So there we were, in Amsterdam: walking around, taking pictures, talking with some locals, eating cheeseburgers, meeting 2 Indonesian tourists, and……

I started not to remember many things after that.

I remember vaguely how I curiously touched a public urinal in the park near red light district.

I remember I saw almost-naked great looking ladies behind those windows.

I remember I entered a bar and asked the bartender if I could use the toilet without buying anything from the bar.

When I woke up, I was already on the bus that brought me back to Hamburg.

Here are what my conscious friends told me:

1. I did touch the public urinal. What I don’t remember is that I also touched someone else’s pee… on the ground. Why did I do that??!

2. I did see those great looking ladies. What I don’t remember is that I stopped by one of the windows and loudly shouted, “NICE TITS!”

3. I did enter the bar. I used the toilet although I didn’t buy anything. What I don’t remember is that… I entered the men’s room.

4. I laughed a lot without a reason.

5. I don't remember that I stared at a random Caucasian girl, came to her, and said “You’re a friend from high school!”. She said, “I’m sorry. I don’t know you”. My friends said I kept telling them (and convincing myself) that the girl WAS a friend from high school. Looking back, when I was in high school, I didn’t have any Caucasian friend. D’oh!

6. I ate another cheeseburger… and French fries…

7. … then I took out my contact lenses. I didn’t wash my hands (that explains why my eyes sort of hurt when I woke up).

So this is what you need to know before visiting Amsterdam (and eating harsh brownie) for the first time:

Three pieces of hash brownies + a glass of space milkshake = TOO MUCH!

Here are some pictures I’ve taken before I lost my consciousness…

Gay couple in Amsterdam holding hands.

I put the red dot on the picture above. I did that because they never did!

This is a story about a girl who had a crush on a guy.

2011-08-26T23:13:00.001+02:00

This is a story about a girl who had a crush on a guy.

She worked on the second floor in a building; he worked in the ground floor in the next building. She could see his work place right from the office kitchen window. Every time she got some water from the tap, she looked over the window and checked out if he was there. If he was, she stayed for a minute or two, drank the water out of the glass while watching him.

She saw him for the first time at the cafeteria. It was winter and the weather was gloomy. Her days had been blue. When she first noticed his existence among those people, she thought, "Who is that?"

... And that how she began to spend her morning putting on a little make up before going to work.

She always met him at the cafeteria at lunch time, and also on the bus on her way back home. Sometimes the bus was so crowded that they just had to stand. Sometimes she stood behind him and had a chance to check him out unnoticed.

Average height, fit figure, always carried that brown leather post-man-bag on his shoulder.

There's one thing about him that has attracted her the most: his hair. His nice thick and wavy blonde hair. She doesn't really like blonde guys, but she just likes his hair. She would imagine running her fingers through his clean-cut hair, burry her fingers deep and gently pull the hair.

They never talked. They said 'hi' or 'morning' or 'Mahlzeit' to each other casually, but they really never talked. He's an ice block. Yet she‘s too shy, she never has the ability to break the ice.

She had to work on something at his office one day. He happened to be the guy she had to work with. There they had a small talk about works, about their daily job, and about their bosses. She enjoyed it. She finally got to see him smiling. But it was just a one-time task. She doesn't have an official excuse to come by to his office again.

On a sunny morning in August, she asked her colleague's permission to leave for a short pause. It was unlikely. But she knew that every Thursday at 10 o'clock, he went to the cafeteria and sat for a while to have coffee.

Thursday, 10 o'clock, at the cafeteria.

He took his coffee to his table, and she followed him.

She said, "Excuse me."

He turned to her and smiled.

She said, "I'm sorry, do you have time?"

He said, "Actually no, not right now. Why?"

She said, "I need to talk to you. It won't take long. I promise."

He looked confused and said, "Oo-kay."

They sat facing each other across the table.

She started to talk, "So, listen, this is my last week at work. I won't be working here anymore. I won't even be in this country by next week. Before I leave, I just want to tell you something. You don't have to say or do anything, or even react. Just listen. Okay?"

"Okay."

She took a deep breath and said, "I have been really attracted to you."

He looked at her very surprised and said, "Wow."

"I find you really attractive."

He smiled and said, "Wow. Okay."

She looked relax, but she actually couldn't even look at his eyes.

She said, "I think... you have nice hair. Nice thick and wavy blonde hair."

He smiled. For about two seconds, they looked at each other in silence. Both of them seemed pretty surprised.

She breathed out. "There. I said it."

"Anyway, where are you going?" he asked.

"Back to my home country. I'll probably come back next year, but I don't know."

"Hmm…”

"Thank you for listening," she smiled at him, she felt fine.

He said, “No. Thank YOU.”

She stood up. "I need to go now. Enjoy your breakfast."

"Thanks."

She walked very fast and left the cafeteria, didn't even dare to look back. One of her acquaintance, who was surprisingly there, tried to stop her and asked, "Hey! What are you doing here?"

She didn't care enough to stop walking and said, "None of your business. Bye!"

And then she went back to her office. On her way, she smiled and said to herself, "This is the proudest of my life."

She had a crush on this guy.

She told him about it.

She doesn't expect anything from him.

She doesn't even know his name.

She doesn't even care.

But that was just relieving.

She doesn't have anything to lose.

But she just really enjoys herself being honest.

Last thank-you-letter to Jack The Hot Lawyer

2011-08-08T16:32:00.001+02:00

to		Jack The Hot Lawyer**
date		Mon, Aug 8, 2011 at 8:23 PM
subject		Terima kasih*

Dear Mr Jack The Hot Lawyer**,

it has been a while since my case closed in June 2011. I, of course, proceeded the rest payment just after I had received your e-mail that day. I wrote you back to inform that, but apparently, instead of sending it away to you, I saved it as draft and completely forgot about it. So this time, before I go back to my home country, I would like to thank you again for all your help getting me out of this trouble. Thank you for your professionalism and generousity. I really appreciate your efforts.

I wish you all the best in the future.

Best regards,

Cute Client***

*) That's 'thank you' in Indonesian :)

-------------------------------------------------------------------------

to		Cute Client***
date		Tue, Aug 9, 2011 at 6:23 PM
subject		AW: Terima kasih*

Dear Cute Client***,

thanks a lot for your words. It’s good to hear that my support was helpful.

I hope that you enjoyed your stay in Germany and I wish you all the best for your future. If you visit Hamburg again in the future, I’ll be glad to hear from you.

Yours sincerely,

Jack The Hot Lawyer**

-------------------------------------------------------------------------

**) Name has been changed to protect privacy and... hotness.

***) Of course I made this up... ;)

The Germans I know...

2011-07-09T13:19:00.004+02:00

Selain “Udah dapet pacar bule?” atau “Sekarang di sana jam berapa?”, pertanyaan yang sering juga ditanyain teman-teman di Indonesia selama saya tinggal di sini adalah: “Orang Jerman rasis ngga? Apa rasanya kerja sama orang Jerman?”

Jujur aja, buat saya itu tuh pertanyaan yg sulit. Sama aja kayak ditanya gini: “Orang Jakarta belagu ga?” atau “Cewek Bandung matre ga?”. Jadi intinya, pertanyaan kayak gitu ngga bisa dijawab secara simpel ‘iya’ atau ‘ngga’. Generalisasi itu ngga adil. Tapi ini jawaban saya:orang-orang Jerman yang saya kenal selama ini adalah orang-orang paling toleran dan open-minded yang pernah saya kenal seumur hidup. Saya lahir dan besar di Indonesia, negara yang, katanya, orangnya ramah-ramah dan bertoleransi tinggi. In a way, it’s true. Tapi harus saya akuin, saya belajar yang namanya toleransi beneran justru dari bule-bule ini.

Orang-orang Jerman yang saya kenal selalu memandang segala sesuatunya secara objektif dan fair. Mereka mendengar dan mempertimbangkan sekecil (dan setolol) apapun ide-ide yang saya kasih buat mereka. Kalau mereka udah bilang "Ok, we’ll think about it" artinya mereka bener-bener akan seriously think about it, ngga cuma basa-basi. Sumpah. Oke, selain karena mereka serius (terlalu serius), mereka juga pada dasarnya pesimis dan suka mikir keras (“Anything can happen, Orissa. Anything,” kata bos saya). Mikir dan diskusi hal-hal serius itu jadi hobi. They dot the i, they mind every detail.

Dan gimana rasanya kerja sama orang Jerman?

Nah, waktu baru akan diwawancara sama calon bos saya, saya pikir saya akan sangat kesusahan berhadapan sama dia. Orang Jerman gitu. Coba kamu deskripsikan stereotype orang Jerman. Pasti ngga akan jauh-jauh dari ini: super strict discipline, punctuality, serius, tegas, dan susah….

Tapi bos saya ini ternyata orangnya asik juga. Emang sih dia super disiplin, super on-time, super kompeten, super tegas dan jelas. Tapi saya ngerasa oke sama itu karena saya juga suka keteraturan, saya ngerasain enaknya. Selama ini ternyata kesusahan saya ngga datang dari dia, tapi justru datang dari salah satu kolega di tim saya (sebut aja dia dengan si D).

Jadi gini, tim kerja saya terdiri dari 8 orang, cewek semua. Hari pertama kerja, saya akuin, sangat berat karena saya harus kenalan sama mereka. Kenalan sama orang Jerman itu susah, ngga kayak kenalan sama orang Indonesia pada umumnya yang bisa langsung ngobrol atau langsung main bareng. Apalagi saya emang orangnya pendiem kalau belum kenal-kenal amat, bukan tipe social butterfly atau ice-breaker. Saya pikir, saya butuh bom nuklir buat mecahin ‘es’ orang Jerman biar mereka bisa sedikit ‘lumer’. Pemecah es aja ngga cukup.

Jam makan siang adalah waktu yang tepat buat nimbrung dan ikut ngobrol sama mereka. Saya kenalan satu-persatu sama mereka. Eh ternyata mereka itu keliatannya doank jutek. Kalau udah dideketin dan diajak ngobrol sih, juteknya ilang (sepupu saya, T, sering bilang “Lo tuh kayak orang Jerman banget. Kalau belum kenal juteknya parah”). Mereka, kecuali si D, keliatan excited karena saya dari Indonesia, negara yang pantainya luar biasa bagus-bagus. Mereka mulai nanya-nanya, saya dari kota apa, cuacanya gimana, jumlah penduduknya berapa (they do care, really), landscape-nya gimana, bla bla bla. Mereka mau denger dan maklum sama bahasa Jerman saya yang ancur.

Si D yang Arogan...

Ada satu hal yang saya sadar semenjak saya ada di negara ini: walaupun negara maju, ngga semua orang di Jerman itu pinter. Artinya, ngga semua orang di sini mau belajar menerima kalau di luar Jerman itu masih banyak orang yang lebih pinter. Nah, orang-orang ngga pinter ini biasanya belum pernah ngerasain tinggal di luar Jerman atau berhubungan banyak sama orang-orang non-Jerman. Mereka mungkin pernah liburan ke luar Jerman, tapi mereka ngga belajar apa-apa dari situ. Jadinya ya itu, sombong, arogan, dan ngerasa paling oke. Orang-orang ini bisa dibedain, salah satunya, dari cara mereka menerima dan berhubungan samaAusländer atau orang asing kayak saya.

Cewek-cewek tim kerja saya, kecuali si D, bisa dikategorikan sebagai orang-orang Jerman yang pinter dan terbuka, keliatan banget dari cara mereka nerima saya, satu-satunya orang Asia di tim. Setelah beberapa waktu akhirnya saya bisa tau kalau tebakan saya soal mereka bener, kalau mereka pernah atau sering berhubungan sama dunia luar Jerman. Si A, bos saya, punya hobi traveling ke luar Jerman dan dia pernah beberapa kali backpacking ke Asia (“I love eating local street foods and blending with local people”, katanya). Si B punya suami orang Peru dan pernah tinggal di sana. Si C ternyata blasteran Jerman-Norwegia. Si E ternyata blasteran Italia-Jerman. Si F sering ikutan pertukaran pelajar ke luar Jerman, dan pernah tinggal lama di Australia. Dan si G aslinya dari Rusia.

Nah, tinggal si D nih.

Dari caranya dia memperlakukan saya, udah ketauan kalau si D ini bukan orang Jerman pinter. Mungkin awalnya dia pikir, karena saya orang Asia, saya ngga bisa apa-apa. Dan itulah kenapa si D jadi orang Jerman pertama (dan mudah-mudah satu-satunya) yang semena-mena sama saya.

Bahasa Jerman saya ngga sempurna, dan kadang secara gramatis ancur! Dan si D keliatannya ngga suka itu. Dia pikir semua orang di dunia ini ngomong bahasa Jerman? D’oh! Kalau dia nanya saya soal sesuatu, saya berusaha jawab sebisa mungkin. Biasanya saya dapat respon gini: “[Menghela nafas] Lupakan. Saya nanya sama yang lain aja [Masang muka jutek. Pergi]”. Kalau dia ngomong sama saya, ngga jarang saya bilang “Wie bitte?”, karena saya ngga sepenuhnya ngerti dan minta dia ngomong sekali lagi. Biasanya saya dapet respon gini: BAHASA TUBUH, seakan-akan saya tuli. Menyebalkan bukan? Tapi seru juga sih liat dia membuat dirinya sendiri keliatan bego di depan saya dengan bahasa Tarzan-nya. Hihi!

Pernah suatu hari, dia ngomong sesuatu sama saya, dan seperti biasa saya bilang “Wie bitte?” karena ngga ngerti. Dia jalan ke arah saya dengan muka jutek, mendekat, sangat mendekat, dan ngomong lumayan keras di depan muka saya. Deket banget, sampai-sampai saya bisa nyium bau mulutnya. Saya bener-bener kesel. Pertama, saya emang ngga pernah suka kalau ada orang ngomong kenceng-kenceng di depan muka saya. Kedua… come on… bau mulut gitu. Siapa yang suka? Akhirnya saat itu dengan muka kesel (dan bahasa Jerman yang …anehnya… keluar dengan mulus) saya bilang sama dia, “Kamu tuh ngga perlu teriak-teriak di depan muka saya karena saya ngga tuli. Saya cuma pengen sedikit pengertian dengan kamu ngomong jelas dan pelan”. Akhirnya dia mau sih ngomong lagi sedikit pelan, walaupun sebelumnya dia menghela nafas dengan muka uh-ampun-deh-nih-orang.

Karena dia pikir saya ngga bisa apa-apa, ngga jarang dia nolak tawaran bantuan dari saya dengan alasan, “Ini kerjaan saya,” atau (ini yang paling parah yang pernah dia bilang), “Saya butuh orang yang kompeten yang bener-bener bisa ngerjain ini. Kamu ngga akan ngerti”. Menyebalkan bukan?

Ada satu momen di mana saya pikir saya bisa ngebuktiin ke si D kalau saya ngga tolol… atau, oke… saya tolol-nya cuma kadang-kadang aja. Si D ini ternyata super duper arogan sampai-sampai dia ngga bisa (atau mungkin ngga mau belajar) bahasa Inggris. Suatu hari, dia dapet kerjaan yang, karena sesuatu hal, belum bisa diterjemahkan ke bahasa Jerman. Kebetulan waktu itu cuma saya yang lagi ada di sana. Karena dia keliatan kesulitan, akhirnya saya nawarin bantuan. Responnya, “Emangnya kamu bisa bahasa Inggris?” dengan muka ngga percaya. Saya bilang saya kuliah pake bahasa Inggris (ngga bohong, karena waktu kuliah, dosen-dosennya sering pake text-book dan presentasi bahasa Inggris). Dan… ta da! Selesei tuh kerjaannya dia. Buat saya, itu adalah momen paling memuaskan. Rasanya pengen banget bilang, “Sucker!”.

Dia suka keki sama saya, apalagi setiap bos saya bilang “Good job!” ke saya. Ada aja kerjaan saya, yang setelah dipuji bos saya, akhirnya dikerjakan secara sukarela sama dia. Apa maksudnya coba? Awalnya sih saya kesel. Tapi lama-lama saya sih cool aja, karena (1) saya jadi punya waktu lebih buat santai dan (2) pada akhirnya itu kerjaan pasti dikasihkan ke saya lagi.

Setelah dua atau tiga bulan kerja di sana, akhirnya saya tau kalau saya (yang di antara teman-teman Indonesia bisa dibilang paling gaptek) adalah orang di dalam tim yang paling ngerti komputer, internet, photo shooting dan digital photo-editing (bahkan si D pun ngga bisa dan ngga bisa percaya). Yang terakhir itu akhirnya jadi tugas tetap saya, dan saya bangga karena tim saya selalu puas dengan kerjaan saya (sebelumnya mereka selalu bayar mahal banget buat orang luar ngerjain itu). Jadi, mau ngga mau, si D juga harus minta bantuan saya ngerjain kerjaan-kerjaan yang berhubungan dengan edit-editan foto. Lama-lama perilaku dia ke saya mulai membaik, dia udah ngga pernah teriak-teriak di depan muka saya lagi, atau ngomong pake bahasa isyarat sama saya. Dia bahkan mulai mau ngobrol sama saya waktu jam makan siang.

Jadi, pelajaran apa yang bisa didapat dari sini? Buat saya pribadi, being underestimated itu menyebalkan tapi seru karena kadang pujian pun ngga memotivasi saya untuk belajar. Dan dari sini mungkin si D juga belajar untuk ngga memperlakukan orang Indonesia seenaknya.Because you also don’t want to mess with the Indonesians. Iya kan?

Dan satu lagi... Be nice!

Hal-hal 'lumayan penting' yang perlu kamu ketahui sebelum ngunjungin Roma...

2010-12-28T16:38:00.000+01:00

Pada tanggal 24-26 Desember 2010, saya berkesempatan jalan-jalan lagi ke Roma, Italia. Banyak yang bilang, jalan-jalan ke Roma pas hari raya Katolik bakal bikin rugi soalnya banyak museum, tourist attraction, dan restoran yang tutup. Buat saya, jalan-jalan ke Roma pre- dan post-Natalan artinya banyak special offer penerbangan dan hotel (kadang bisa super murah loh).

Nah, karena ini yang kedua kalinya saya ngunjungin Roma, pengetahuan saya tentang kota ini jadi lebih banyak. Saya ngga lagi takut nyasar kalau jalan-jalan sendirian. Yang paling menyenangkan, saya bisa belajar banyak hal tentang orang-orang Italia, khususnya Roma: kebiasaannya, kulturnya, dll.

Berikut ini hal-hal 'lumayan penting' yang perlu kamu ketahui sebelum ngunjungin Roma:

1. Standar hotel di Roma—ternyata—ngga bisa diliat dari jumlah bintangnya, melainkan dari harganya. Jadi jangan kaget kalau fasilitas hotel 'bintang empat' kadang lebih ancur daripada hotel 'bintang dua'. Paling enak yah memang nginep di hotel. Tapi kalau duitnya pas-pasan, mendingan nginep di youth hostel. Kalau prinsip saya, nginep di hotel berbintang yang bagus itu agak rugi karena cuma dipake buat tidur dan mandi. Nah, berhubung Roma itu kota turis, di setiap pojokan jalan kita pasti banyak ngeliat hostel. Harga hostel bisa macem-macem, tergantung musim dan fasilitasnya. Tapi dengan 20 Euro per orang per malam, kita udah bisa dapet hostel nyaman di tengah kota (termasuk sarapan loh). Saran saya: sebelum nge-book hostel, baca dulu review-nya di http://www.tripadvisor.com/ .

Mau nginep gratisan juga bisa. Saya belum pernah sih, tapi kalau mau nyobain, ini caranya.

2. Misalnya kamu belum pernah ke Roma dan punya waktu 2 hari di Roma, saya sarankan di hari pertama kamu ikut tur hop on-hop off pake bis double decker (20-25 Euro untuk seharian penuh), biar bisa tau tempat-tempat penting dan bersejarah di Roma yang wajib dikunjungi. Di hari kedua, kamu bisa keliling kota pake trem, subway dan bis umum dengan memanfaatkan whole day ticket (kalau di Roma namanya BIG atau Integrated Daily Ticket) yang harganya 4 Euro dan berlaku sampai jam 24.00 di hari yang sama. Kalau kamu punya waktu 3 hari atau lebih di Rome, ada banyak pilihan getting around Rome yang bisa kamu liat di sini

3. Jangan sayang ngeluarin uang buat makanan. It's Italy!Buat on-budget-traveller (seperti saya), ngeluarin uang buat makan makanan enak kayaknya lebih worthed daripada buat beli aksesoris oleh-oleh standar kayak gantungan kunci. Pizza atau pasta atau es krim home-made a la Italia yang super enak bisa kamu temuin di pizzeria atauristorante atau gelateria beneran, bukan di booth pinggir jalan. Kamu bisa kenyang dan puas makan di Italiano ristorante dengan budget mulai dari 10 Euro per orang. Kalau mau super kenyang, kamu bisa pesen satu porsi pizza yang harganya mulai 6 Euro. Buat saya pribadi, makan satu porsi pizza yang umumnya berdiameter 30 cm bisa bikin kamerkaan (istilah dalam bahasa Sunda yang artinya: saking kekenyangannya sampai ngga bisa berdiri). Highly recommended: Pizza quattro formaggi (pizza dengan topping 4 jenis keju) di Ristorante Zio Mario.

4. Ngga kayak kota-kota lain di Eropa yang pernah saya kunjungin, di Roma (dan kota-kota di Italia lainnya) saya jarang sekali nemuin McDonalds atau Burger King atau restoran fast foodlainnya. Venezia cuma punya 1 restoran McD, dan itu pun ngga buka 24 jam.

5. Awas copet! Copet-copet di Roma ngga kalah brutal sama copet-copet di kota besar Indonesia pada umumnya. Pokoknya saya sarankan untuk hati-hati, bukan cuma di kerumunan (subway, stasiun, tourist attraction, dll), tapi juga di tempat-tempat sepi (bahkan di gereja-gereja pun ada warning biar kita hati-hati sama pickpocket). Dan jangan pernah kelayapan sendirian keliling kota setelah jam 11 malem!

Btw, kamu juga harus menjaga paspor kamu hati-hati, karena di sana banyak kasus orang kehilangan paspor. Kenapa? Dari yang saya denger, paspor-paspor curian itu biasanya diperjual-belikan untuk orang-orang China Daratan yang pengen keluar negaranya secara 'legal'.

6. Saya pikir kelakuan orang Italia (khususnya Roma) di jalan raya ini hampir sama kayak orang Indonesia: nyetir sembarangan, parkir sembarangan, nerobos lampu merah sembarangan, nerobos gang sempit sembarangan, kebut-kebutan sembarangan, nyalahin orang sembarangan... Ampun!

Di Jerman, pejalan kaki dan pemakai sepeda adalah yang paling diistimewakan, makanya mereka ngga bakalan kesusahan kalau nyebrang jalan lewat zebra cross yang ngga ada rambu-rambu untuk pejalan kaki. Jangan harap itu bakal terjadi di Roma.

7. Sebagai cewek, saya ngerasa kalau jalan-jalan di Roma (dan Italia secara keseluruhan, terutama Milan) itu sedikit susah karena banyak distraksinya, yaitu COWOK GANTENG! Tipikal cowo Italia: warna rambut gelap (which is exactly my type :D), warna kulit coklat sempurna, warna mata gelap, rambut sedikit ikal, pokoknya bentuk mukanya bagus. Pemain bola Serie-A itu representatif yang pas dari cowok-cowok Italia pada umumnya. Bukan cuma eksmud dan mahasiswa biasa aja yang ganteng, tapi cowok-cowok kelas menengah ke bawah kayak bartender, waiter restoran, satpam, office boy hotel, tukang penjaga toko, dan bahkan tukang jualan (yang kalau di Bandung biasa disebut'mang-mang') pun ganteng.

Waktu ngunjungin Venezia beberapa bulan lalu, saya dan temen-temen cewek saya kesengsem sama tukang sayur—yes, tukang sayur—karena dia ganteng banget kayak pemain telenovela. Kita rela pura-pura milih jeruk dan tomat lama-lama biar bisa ngeliat dia. Nah, di Roma, cowo terganteng yang saya temui adalah seorang pastor muda yang saya liat di St Peter's Square, Vatikan. Pas saya denger dia ngomong bahasa Italia... aduhhh... lutut saya langsung lemes... Cuco' bo! Saya jadi mikir, orang-orang ganteng ini—walaupun cuma tukang sayur di Italia—kalau dateng ke Indonesia pasti bisa langsung jadi artis atau model celana dalem...

8. Cappuccino itu minuman di pagi hari. Jadi kalau di ristorante kamu mesen cappuccino bukan pas waktu sarapan... you hurt Italian people's feelings....

9. Sebelum ke Italia, saya sarankan untuk belajar bahasa tubuh orang Italia. Italia itu termasuk negara yang orang-orangnya sering banget menggunakan bahasa tubuh, terutama tangan. Kamu tau gerakan-gerakan tangan yang suka dilakukan pemain bola Serie-A kalau kena kartu kuning (yang kalau di Indonesia artinya 'Pak, minta makan, Pak...'? Jangan sembarangan diperagain, karena artinya bisa (a) "Apa?" atau "Kenapa?"; atau (b) "Saya sendirian"; atau (c) "What the f*ck?" alias ngajak berantem—tergantung arah dan kecepatan gerakannya. Cool, kan?

10. Dilarang pakai baju minim. Karena selain kamu—para cewek—bakal digangguin sama cowok-cowok di jalan ("Ciao bella ragazza! Donna calda! Witwiww"), kamu juga bakal dilarang masuk tempat-tempat penting misalnya St Peter's Basilica. No short pants, no tanktop, no tube top, no sleeveless top, no mini skirt, and no sandal... berlaku buat cewek dan cowok.

Walking in a winter wonderland...

2010-12-19T00:52:00.002+01:00

When it snows, ain't it thrilling

Though your nose gets a chilling

We'll frolic and play, the Eskimo way

Walking in a winter wonderland

(Winter Wonderland, Richard B. Smith)

Photos by Titte Nurul Fatima

Ketika saya dituntut Clothing Brand dan kenalan sama pengacara ganteng di Jerman...

2010-12-16T18:17:00.003+01:00

Sekarang saya mau cerita tentang pengalaman saya terjerat masalah hukum di Jerman. Cerita ini sekaligus menjawab pertanyaan teman-teman dan keluarga saya yang sebelumnya ngga pernah saya jawab.

Jadi, kenapa saya bisa punya pengacara (orang Jerman)? Siapa yang menyeret saya ke pengadilan (Jerman)?

Inilah jawabannya...

Awal musim panas 2010, saya dapat surat dari sebuah law firm di Frankfurt. Isinya menerangkan secara sopan dan ofensif kalau klien mereka, EH—a clothing brand which is famous for its ugly design, really—nuntut sejumlah uang dari saya (tepatnya 3 digit Euro) karena saya udah ngeiklanin produk palsuannya di eBay untuk dijual. Saya harus transfer uangnya dalam waktu 3 hari. Dan kalau melewati batas 3 hari itu, saya kena denda yang lebih besar lagi (tepatnya 4 digit Euro) dan kasus ini akan dibawa ke pengadilan. Saya panik luar biasa walaupun sebenernya saya sih yakin kalau produk yang saya iklanin di eBay itu asli (diliat dari tag-nya, dll.). Akhirnya saya langsung menemui kenalan Jerman saya yang kebetulan pengacara untuk minta tolong.

Setelah ngobrol panjang sama dia, akhirnya saya bisa ngambil kesimpulan kalau produk yang saya iklanin di eBay itu (dan yang notabene-nya hadiah dari host mother saya yang ngga muat di badan saya) ternyata palsu. Produk palsuan EH ini banyak dijual di Turki dan (katanya) dilarang masuk Jerman. Sial. Si host mother saya ini emang ngaku beli itu di Turki.

Saya takut dan panik. Pertama, saya ngga punya uang sebanyak itu, apalagi kalau harus dilunasin dalam waktu 3 hari. Jual diri di Reeperbahn aja ngga bakal dapet sebanyak itu dalam 3 hari. Kedua, THIS-IS-GERMANY! Negara ini emang super duper strict, ngga pernah main-main sama aturan dan hukum. Saya ngga mau dideportasi apalagi dipenjara. Yang sempet kepikiran sama saya saat itu adalah beli tiket pulang ke Indonesia dan kabur dari Jerman. Konyol tapi nyata, beneran kepikiran.

Si kenalan pengacara ini pun akhirnya bilang sama saya kalau bagaimanapun saya ngga bakal dipenjara, dideportasi, atau dipecat dari kerjaan saya, karena ini mah masalahnya piece of cake alias cemen, bukan kasus kriminal kelas tinggi. Nah, karena kenalan saya ini ngga menangani masalah e-commerce dan cyber law, akhirnya dia melimpahkan kasus saya ke junior-nya—kita panggil saja si doi dengan "Jack".

Saya masih takut dan panik. Gimana caranya saya bayar si Jack? Pengacara kan mahal... Saya kan masih pengen jalan-jalan ke Spanyol. Untungnya si kenalan pengacara ini dengan baik hati bilang kalau saya ngga perlu ngeluarin satu cent pun buat bayar Jack. Si Jack ini akan menangani kasus saya secara pro bono alias gratisan.

Besoknya, saya pergi menemui Jack di kantornya. Karena hari itu panas banget dan ditambah lagi saya masih stres mikirin kasus ini, muka saya pun saya biarkan kucel sekucel-kucelnya. Begitu masuk kantor pengacara yang minimalis itu, saya sempet heran... Ini kantor pengacara atau agensi model sih? Koq orang-orangnya ganteng-ganteng dan cantik-cantik. Belum selesei saya terpesona sama sekretaris Jack yang muda dan ganteng, Jack si pengacara nyamperin saya. And that was how I first met Jack, my hot lawyer. Saat itu saya beneran nyesel kenapa saya biarkan muka saya kucel ngga karuan. Ternyata si Jack ini ganteng luar biasa. Namanya aslinya sih bukan Jack. Kenapa di sini saya menyebut dia Jack? Karena emang muka dan senyumnya sedikit mirip aktor Hugh JACKman. Rambutnya gelap dan selalu ditata rapi. Saya jadi sedikit berterimakasih sama EH yang udah bikin saya kenalan sama pengacara muda yang ganteng, tinggi, tegap, wangi (jarang loh ada cowo Jerman yang wangi), dan ramah kayak Jack.

Oke, kembali ke kasus EH. Setelah berkonsentrasi penuh sama apa yang diomongin Jack (susah juga yah menanggapi orang secara serius dan profesional kalau mukanya ganteng...), akhirnya kita sampai pada kesepakatan kalau Jack akan secara sukarela menangani kasus saya dalam waktu 3 hari. Dia akan mengusahakan gimana pun caranya biar saya ngga perlu bayar sepeser pun ke pengacaranya EH.

Demi memanfaatkan kesempatan sama Jack, saya pun nanya ini itu ngalor ngidul… tentunya yang berhubungan dengan kasus EH donk. Jack bilang, kasus ini emang sering terjadi di Jerman, dan yang biasanya ketiban sial adalah anak-anak sekolahan yang ngga tau apa-apa soal hak-hak EH di eBay Jerman. Entah gimana ceritanya, eBay Jerman dan EH emang sepakat untuk ‘membasmi’ pemalsuan merk EH di Jerman. Kesepakatan ini didukung sepenuhnya oleh pemerintah Jerman yang pada dasarnya emang anti pemalsuan, anti pembajakan, dan kayaknya juga anti copy-paste.

Oke, pasti banyak yang bertanya-tanya, what the fuck is EH? Kenapa sih seheboh itu nuntut anak sekolahan sampai ribuan Euro cuma gara-gara ngiklanin barang (yang ternyata palsu) di eBay secara privat? Saya sih maklum kalau saya dituntut Prada gara-gara ngejual barang palsu Prada tapi menyebutnya ‘asli Prada’. It’s fuckin Prada. Lah ini sih EH. Kalau bukan gara-gara ketiban kasus ini, sampai sekarang saya ngga bakal tau EH itu apa. Salah satu kolega Jack (yang lebih muda dan lebih ganteng dari Jack, oh la la…) nimbrung ngobrol sama kita dan sempet nge-joke, “Si EH itu emang keterlaluan. Come on! EH who? Siapa itu EH? Saya sih cuma kenal Thomas H, penulis Tess of the d'Urbervilles. Hahaha!”. Yah walaupun ngga lucu-lucu amat, saya sih ikut ketawa aja.

Kenapa saya memutuskan untuk ngejual produk palsu EH di eBay? Karena selain kekecilan, saya ngga suka sama sekali sama barang EH itu. Desain produk palsu EH luar biasa menjijikan, sama kayak produk aslinya. Emang sih ngga sopan ngejual barang pemberian orang. Tapi waktu itu saya sih mikirnya simpel aja. Itu barang ngga akan kepakai sama saya sama sekali (karena jelek), dan saya ngga suka kalau ada barang (jelek) nganggur ngga pernah kepakai yang nongkrong di lemari saya.

Jadi, pelajaran apa yang bisa diambil dari sini?

1. Seperti yang udah saya bilang di tulisan saya sebelumnya: You don’t mess viz ze Germans! Saya ngga akan pernah bosan ngasih tau semua orang untuk ngga cari perkara sama orang Jerman, hukum Jerman, atau negara Jerman secara keseluruhan, apapun bentuknya. Kalau kamu mau hidup aman di Jerman, jangan pernah berpikiran kalau rules are made to broken. You break the rules, you’re totally fucked up. In my defence, kasus saya dan EH ini sih bukan karena saya pengen cari sensasi dengan ngejual barang palsu di eBay Jerman. Ini sih murni karena ketidaktahuan saya soal EH yang kurang terkenal dan kesepakatannya dengan eBay. Right. EH who?

2. Kalau suatu hari kamu dapat hadiah barang EH dan ternyata kamu ngga suka, saran saya adalah: buang. Harga barang-barang EH emang ngga masuk akal (baca: MAHAL BANGET), padahal barangnya juga ngga bagus sama sekali. Kalau mau dapat uang, jangan jual di eBay. Cari aja abege alay yang merasa dirinya luar biasa oke. Dia mau koq bayar mahal walaupun barangnya palsu. Y4n9 pENt!n6 EH 9iTu L0h. Btw, di Jerman juga banyak abege alay koq. Gaya mereka ya itu, EH style.

3. Saran dari seorang teman: “Finger weg von dieser Marke! Jangan pernah berurusan sama EH kecuali kamu penggemar barang-barang EH. Lagian emangnya kamu mau pakai barang yang abis dimuntahin*?” (*Maksudnya dia, desain barang EH ini menurutnya jelek parah sampai disangka kena muntahan…).

Jack, pengacara saya yang ganteng, akhirnya bisa menangani kasus saya. Dia berhasil membuat deal sama pengacaranya EH. Keputusannya adalah saya ngga perlu bayar sebanyak yang EH tuntut dari saya (walaupun masih 3 digit Euro, tapi jumlahnya jauh lebih sedikit).

Jack bilang, dia bisa mengusahakan lebih jauh biar saya ngga perlu sepeser pun ke EH, asal saya siap punya waktu ke pengadilan. Jack sempet berusaha meyakinkan saya. “Kalau kita bisa push ini sampai ke nol Euro, kenapa kita harus berhenti sekarang?” katanya. Tipikal orang Jerman: suka kerja dan beneran akan berusaha maksimal menyelesaikan kerjaannya sampai titik darah penghabisan walaupun ngga dibayar. Saya sih malas aja berurusan sama pengadilan Jerman, apalagi ketemu sama hakim Jerman yang pastinya super galak dan menakutkan. Jadi saya memutuskan untuk setuju sama keputusan pertama aja.

Untung ada Jack.
He definitely figuratively makes my day…

Rosiati Sofyan (1965 - 2010)

2010-12-16T18:17:00.002+01:00

Sleep, Mommy, sleep

I wish I could kiss your cheek

Rest in God's arms now

I know you're happier somehow

Rest in peace, Mommy. You're my beloved mother, my best friend, my guardian angel, my everything...

Du fehlst mir überall in meinem Leben. Ich habe dich so lieb, Mama.

Sorrow.

2010-08-22T22:18:00.003+02:00

... sorrow thy seat is on heap of shattered hopes.
Still you accompany the deserted souls.

The World With (Twisted) Religion: Part 2

2010-08-14T20:46:00.002+02:00

"There are no innocent people. Thank God for 9/11, thank God for dead soldiers, thank God for IED's. There are no innocent people." (Shirley Phelps-Roper)

Following my previous blog, I'm still passionate about discussing how horrible religious hypocrisy is. I really love what Steven Weinberg said about religion: with or without religion, you'd have good people doing good things and evil people doing evil things. But for good people to do evil things, it takes religion.

I think that a religious freak is no better than a serial killer (yes, I'm saying it). The people like Amrozy and FPI guys are just a bunch of wicked bigots who think they have the right to decide whether you can live or die, whether you deserve heaven or hell. These religious hypocrite people may think they deserve their god's love and heaven, but surely they don't deserve a place in a civilized society at all.

And this is one example of devilish religious freak.

Shirley Phelps-Roper

Okay, now you're asking: Who the heck is this Shirley Phelps-Roper? Before you continue reading, click here or here to watch one of her 'annoying' videos that probably will make you want to smash your PC.

Ignore her greasy hair, what this obnoxious mother of 11 said on the interviews was just even--let's say--lamer, right?

Shirley Phelps-Roper is the minister of the Westboro Baptist Church in the USA. She and her followers are often characterized as a hate group. For me, she is the one who likely becomes the real witch of 21st century, the evil woman, the delusional nutbag, and the other version of religious hypocrite like Indonesian Habib Rizieq (and yes, the WBC is the FPI in Indonesia--same same but different).

She and her followers are trying too hard to be the modern day 'prophet', but it seems to lead her more to be the modern day witch. This mad woman preach hatred aggresively for gays, cheerleaders, Sean Penn (who won Oscar for his role potraying a gay activist in movie 'Milk'), Barrack Obama (calling him Antichrist because he said 'Happy Holiday' instead of 'Merry Christmas'--for the love of god...), Heath Ledger (because of something we--sane people--won't understand), and... yeah... maybe everyone after all. They demonstrate on the street, spread hatred for homosexuals and harshly offend them (with their "God Hates Fags" campaign). They also demonstrate at American AIDS clinics, claiming that those people deserve the HIV because they're sinners. They disrupt the funerals of American soldiers, causing the soldier's family unbelievable distress.

Tell me, what kind of human who demonstrates and graciously thanks God for someone's death in his own funeral?! Yes, the mad and evil one. Well, madness and evil are the part of this life you cannot completely get rid off. But it's disheartening so much because Shirley and her followers also offend group of people proclaiming god, the Christianity and the gospels, as if it is what the religion teaches mankind.

This witch is currently on the list of individuals banned from entering the United Kingdom for "fostering extremism or hatred". Let's just hope she doesn't get banned from buying shampoo or entering at least a beauty parlour. I'm totally serious.

RäumungsverkUAf: Toko Aneh di Hamburg

2010-06-26T09:11:00.004+02:00

Waktu jalan-jalan ke Sternchanze—kawasan paling ‘hip’ di Hamburg—temen saya, Banon, nunjukkin satu toko barang-barang second hand yang namanya Räumungsverkuaf (btw, spelling-nya salah atau sengaja?). Toko ini bisa dibilang menarik. Kenapa? Karena selain barang jualannya bagus-bagus, harga paling mahalnya cuma Euro 10—tergolong sangat murah untuk ukuran barang ‘urban style’ di sini. T-shirts, vintage dress, sepatu, aksesoris, tas, poster film, lukisan, buku, dan lainnya.

RäumungsverkAUf artinya clearance sale. Kalau RäumungsverkUAf??

Yang lebih menarik lagi adalah… toko ini punya aturan yang aneh. Jadi, ngga kaya toko-toko pada umumnya, yang mau beli ngga bisa seenaknya masuk toko, liat-liat, milih barang, dan bayar (atau keluar lagi tanpa beli apapun). No such a thing. Di display-nya ada note gimana caranya belanja di situ: (1) pilih barang dari jendela, (2) masuk toko, dan kemudian (3) bayar. Yang cuma mau liat-liat, ga boleh masuk toko! Beneran window shopping.

(1) Pilih barang dari luar, (2) Masuk, (3) Bayar, (4) Makasih!

Daaaan… yang punya toko nih kayanya ngga niat jualan. Toko ini awalnya cuma buka di hari-hari tertentu (kira-kira 4 hari seminggu), dari jam 4 sore sampai jam 6 sore (yes yes, cuma 2 jam). Waktu aku ke sana lagi (kira-kira jam 5 sore), toko ini tutup, gelap, dan malah ngga ada jam bukanya sama sekali. Di jendelanya ada note yang bilang gini: “Kalau mau beli sesuatu, ketok aja”. Yang bikin kita bingung… ngetoknya ke mana??

The World With (Twisted) Religion: Part 1

2010-05-01T09:53:00.006+02:00

This was inspired by an inspirational quote from American physicist and Nobel laureate in Physics, Steven Weinberg:

"With or without religion, you'd have good people doing good things and evil people doing evil things. But for good people to do evil things, it takes religion".

I am one of many people who think that, this false belief of religion, corrupt religion and religion misleading have turned the world into the real hell. I am not against religion. I’m not saying that religion is bad. But these wicked religious hypocritical assholes have been making God image very vicious and religion seem to be all unfair and wrong. It's such a shame!

These are the very infamous example of religious hypocrites in Indonesia. If there anyone who would like to explain anything or criticize, please don’t hesitate to write a comment.

Imam Samudra and The Explosive Gang and The Other Suicide Bombers
He and his evil gang, Amrozi Nurhasyim and Muklas Ghufron, were found guilty for their role in the 2002 Bali bombing, which killed 202 people. On an interview, CNN’s Dan Rivers asked him where in Quran stated that he had the right to kill innocent people. He confidently said, “(Handing Quran) This one. This verse. I’m not twisting my religion. I know more than you. I’m a Muslim and you’re a kaffir”. Where? Which verse?

As for Amrozi, he remained calm and showed no regret when Rivers handed him the pictures of the dead victims of Bali bombing, saying “No regrets whatsoever”.

These three had no regret after all. They kept saying that they were sure they had done the right thing for the 'human being', and that they were going straight to heaven.

One thing for sure, I would never want to worship any god who tells me that I have the right to kill innocent people and will go straight to heaven for that. I’d rather be an atheist. Another thing for sure is that the real religion does not cause nor explains suicide terrorism, the twisted religion and the twisted-mind creatures do.

(What does Islam say about suicide bomb action? Find out here.)

The Notorious Indonesian Pedophile: Syekh Puji (and some of the kind)
This rich asshole Syekh Puji a.k.a Pujiono Cahyo Widayanto was 43 years old when he married Lutfiana Ulfa, 11 years and 10 months old. She was not yet 12 years old (and--I believe--just had her first menstruation couple years before), but has taken up wifely duties at home at the time--which also, I believe, sexually.

Syekh Puji believes his actions have a legitimate basis in Islam, considering that the prophet Muhammad married the 7 year old Aisha. He said, "I'm not just doing what I like, it's based in religion. It's in accordance with the prophet's teaching. You can marry a 7 year old if you like but you can't have relations with her until she starts menstruating". He also intends to marry two other girls, aged 9 and 7.

Poor girls... what the hell were your parents thinking?

Syekh Puji is not the only pedophile scumbag who is likely a hypocrite Islamic radical. Child marriages are actually common in Yemen, where girls as young as eight are known to have been married off by parents. Roughly half of Yemeni girls are married before 18, some as young as eight!

In March 2010, a 12-year-old Yemeni child bride, Fawziya Abdullah Youssef, died after struggling to give birth for three days. Poor girl...

In April 2010, Ilham Mahdi al Assi, a 13-year-old Yemeni girl died from marital rape. Her husband, Abed al-Hikmi, had tied her up and forced himself on her violently. The mother said her daughter looked like she had been butchered. Ilham’s sex organs had been ruptured and she hemorrhaged to death. The mother also said that she tried to convince her child to have sex with her husband so the family would not be shamed. Well, shame on you, Ilham's mother!

And here comes the most tragic part: In March, 2010 a group of Yemen’s highest authorities decided, then declared, that anyone opposing the ban on child marriages would be viewed as apostates, traitors. Thousands of Yemeni women, whose faces covered in veils, demonstrated outside the parliament to oppose the legislation of child marriage banning, holding up banners proclaiming "don't ban what Allah made permissible", or "stop violating Islamic sharia law in the name of rights and freedoms”.

The religion angle is disheartening. It seems to me like an easy justification for adult men to have sex with underage girls. Why on earth does such a thing happen??

(How old were Aisha at the time of her marriage with Holy Prophet? Find out here.)

The Brotherhood of Which-Kind-of-Islam Defenders
"Front Pembela Islam (FPI) is a hard-line Islamic group in Indonesia, well known for their violent acts" (source: Wikipedia).

FPI is VIOLENCE. VIOLENCE. VIOLENCE. VIOLENCE.

Tell me something good about violence!

The FPI members don't care what the Indonesian constitution or law tells them, because they feel they are higher than the law and sometimes even mightier than their God Himself. They think they absolutely have the right to punish other sinful people. Who the hell do they think they are? Sinless saints? It’s simply like this, “Hey, let’s beat the people, make riots on the streets, burn the gays and kaffirs alive, burn down the Non-Islam schools, smash up the cafes and bars. We don’t have to worry about anything, because we’ll be doing it for Islam. We won’t be imprisoned. God won’t even send us to hell! Yay!”

During the holy month of Ramadan, they attack night clubs and bars, brutally beat the attendants... in the name of Muslims community and Allah. Well, they regularly attack bars, cafes and even pork-selling establishments and other haram establishments.

They held demonstration on the street and caused a traffic jam when former president Bush visited Indonesia (huh?). They also held demonstration against a comedy film which was being produced, because one of its actors, Japanese pornstar Maria 'Miyabi' Ozawa, was planned to be the leading roll, although not naked at all. Who knows that one of them might have actually seen naked Miyabi on a downloaded video….

On April 2006 they attacked Playboy's office in Jakarta, Indonesia by throwing stones, protested the very first publication of the magazine even though it contained no nudity… in the name of Muslims community and Allah.

On June 2008 they attacked secularists in the National Monument, who seemed to be peacemakers supporting the National Alliance for Freedom of Religion and Faith (as if they could threaten other people's life by being tolerant). Horrified men, women, children, and old people were beaten.

And there are still many cases of the brutality of this brutal gangster, whose acts are said to be based on Islam (click here to read the long list of FPI's violent acts). Violence in the name of Muslim community and Allah. So what do they defend actually? Which Muslim community? What about Islam—which they claim as the religion they defend—as a peaceful religion? By the way, where do the police go?

My Childhood

2010-02-08T19:44:00.001+01:00

“There is a garden in every childhood, an enchanted place where colors are brighter, the air softer, and the morning more fragrant than ever again.”
(Elizabeth Lawrence)

Ketika ayah saya tewas...

2010-02-07T12:10:00.002+01:00

"YOU'RE DEAD TO ME!"

Kamu pernah nonton sitcom How I Met Your Mother season 5 episod 9 (Slapsgiving 2: Revenge of the Slap), di mana Lily nganggap beberapa orang yang udah ngecewain dia tewas? Kamu pernah ngga ngeluarin kata-kata "You're dead to me!" sama seseorang yang udah ngecewain kamu atau bikin kamu sangat marah dan sakit hati? And when you say it, do you really mean it? Atau itu cuma sumpah serapah sesaat aja?

Saya pernah bilang itu dua kali selama hidup saya: ke ex-lover dan ayah saya. Saya bilang itu ke ex-lover saya karena waktu itu saya sangat sangat terobsesi sama dia dan saya kecewa karena semuanya ngga berjalan sesuai sama yang saya pengen--begonya saya malah nyalahin dia. Emosi sesaat sih. Beberapa waktu kemudian, dia 'hidup' lagi dan saya pun baik-baik aja.

But I really did mean it when I said it to my father. Saya bener-bener nganggap dia udah mati. Ya, beberapa orang mungkin akan bilang, "Anak kualat ngga tau berterima kasih. Ayahnya masih hidup koq dianggap mati?". Saya ngga mau ngejelasin satu persatu secara detail kenapa atau apa aja yang udah ayah saya lakukan sampai-sampai saya nganggap ayah saya mati. Saya ngga peduli sama orang-orang yang bilang saya 'pendosa' atau 'calon penghuni neraka jahanam'. Terserah. Mereka ngga akan ngerti dan ngga tau apa-apa. Saya cuma pengen ngasih tau kalau saya punya alasan kenapa saya dengan terpaksa menghilangkan eksistensi ayah saya dalam pikiran saya.

Marah. Kecewa. Sakit. Sedih.

Saya bukan satu-satunya anak broken home di dunia ini. Kebanyakan dari temen-temen saya punya keluarga sempurna bahagia, di mana sesama anggotanya saling menghormati, menghargai dan menyayangi; di mana orang tuanya berperan sebagaimana mestinya dan rela berkorban apa aja demi anak-anaknya. Tapi ngga semua orang tua di dunia ini rela berkorban apa aja demi anaknya. Beberapa dari mereka justru rela ngorbanin anaknya demi apa aja.

Kata Mitch Albom di buku For One More Day: "You can be a mama's boy or a daddy's boy, but you can't be both". Anak mama atau anak papa, ngga bisa dua-duanya. And I was likely 'the daddy's girl'. Sebelum umur saya kira-kira 13 taun, saya masih nganggap kalau saya punya ayah terhebat di dunia. Saya sangat mengidolakan dan membanggakan dia. Saya selalu nurutin kata-katanya. Saya selalu mau lakukan hal-hal keren yang dia lakukan: saya makan sayuran cuma karena ayah saya makan sayuran (walaupun saya ngga suka sayuran), saya mau pakai kacamata karena dia keliatan sangat pintar sama kacamatanya. Dia orang yang sangat wise, tegas, dan open-minded. Dia selalu bisa ngejawab pertanyaan-pertanyaan saya dengan cerdas. Dia selalu ngebacain cerita seru sebelum saya tidur. Buat saya, dia ayah yang sempurna.

Semakin saya dewasa, semakin saya sadar kalau nobody IS perfect--ayah saya juga ternyata ngga sempurna. Tapi saya pikir, bagaimanapun juga dia ayah saya, saya pasti akan selalu sayang sama dia dan nerima kekurangannya. Saya sangat kecewa waktu dia mengkhianati dan bohong sama istri dan anak-anaknya. Butuh waktu sangat lama buat akhirnya maafin dia dengan tulus. Tapi waktu dia mengkhianati dan bohong LAGI setelah kita dengan susah maafin dia, dan berujung dengan keputusan dia untuk ninggalin kita, saya tanpa pikir-pikir lagi akhirnya ngeluarin air mata yang banyak dan kata-kata sialan itu, "YOU'RE DEAD TO ME!".

Saya dan temen-temen cewek saya sering banget ngomongin soal cowok, cinta, dan pernikahan--common girls talk. Saya suka koq kalau kita ngomongin itu, saya ngerasa excited juga. Tapi yang paling menyedihkan adalah setiap mereka--para gadis-gadis yang bahagia dengan keluarganya ini--mulai bilang soal tipe suami idaman. Mereka bilang mereka pengen punya suami yang kayak ayah-ayah mereka. Dan akhirnya mereka cerita satu sama lain betapa mereka bahagia punya ayah-ayah super hebat. Saya cuma bisa diem. Saya pulang ke rumah dan kadang-kadang bertanya-tanya sama diri saya sendiri (dan Tuhan): kenapa ini bisa terjadi sama ayah saya?

Saya pikir, saya bakal selamanya sakit hati kalau mengingat-ingat perubahan yang terjadi sama ayah saya, kayak gimana dia dulu dan sekarang. Saya benci kalau saya kecewa berlebihan tapi saya ngga bisa ngerubah apa-apa. Makanya, jalan paling aman buat saya adalah lari dari kenyataan--lari dari kenyataan kalau ayah saya emang sudah berubah, bukan lagi individu yang dulu saya kenal. Dan saya pun akhirnya 'menghilangkan karakternya di serial hidup saya'.

My father is dead. Kalau kamu ketemu seseorang yang mirip dia, dia bukan ayah saya. Ayah saya yang sebenernya ngga akan pernah bohong sama saya, ngga akan mengkhianati saya, ngga akan ninggalin saya, dan dia akan selalu jadi hero buat saya, ibu saya, dan adik saya. Dia ngga akan ngecewain keluarganya. Dia mungkin bakal hidup lagi atau mungkin... bener-bener ngga eksis lagi di dunia ini. Well, I may regret it, but for now let me heal myself from this terrible pain.

The Beautiful Little Old Town Bremen

2010-01-25T20:54:00.004+01:00

I consider Bremen as one of my favorite places I've ever been. It means I really like Bremen and I would go there again and again.

Why?

* Bremen is a beautiful historical old town.

* Bremen is beautiful.

* Bremen old town is pretty artistic.

* It's really easy to go around old town Bremen. It's quite small.

* Bremen is beautiful. I know. I would mention it all the time.

* Bremers are nice and warm (nicer and warmer than Hamburgers).

Bremen in spring.

Bremen in autumn.

Check out more photos of Bremen here.

Krisis Identitas?

2010-01-14T10:31:00.005+01:00

How can other people identify me? Itu jadi pertanyaan yang sering saya tanyakan sama diri saya sendiri, terutama sejak saya merantau di negeri orang.

Gini: umur saya 23 tahun, ras Indocina, tinggi badan 155 cm, dan orang-orang bilang saya childlike and childish. Waktu saya kuliah, banyak orang yang ngira saya anak SMP atau SMA. Kadang kesel sih, tapi saya berusaha meyakinkan diri saya kalau itu adalah bentuk pujian yang menandakan saya 'awet muda' (atau mungkin 'awet anak-anak'). Selama 22 tahun di Indonesia, saya ngga ngelihat itu sebagai masalah besar. Kenapa? Karena banyak juga orang bertubuh mini seperti saya. Jadi orang-orang udah biasa.

Di sini kita (sebagai orang awam Indonesia) hampir ngga bisa menebak umur karena ABG umur 17 tahun pun secara fisik udah kelihatan kayak tante-tante umur 30 (dari cara mereka dress up, make up, dan kelihatan juga dari... ukuran boobs-nya). Dan tipikal ras Nordic adalah: rambut pirang atau sangat terang, kulit pucat, mata biru, bentuk muka kuat (kelihatan dari rahangnya yang kotak), dan hidung sangat mancung--atau simpelnya: sangat bule.

Nah, saya mulai ngerasa krisis identitas sejak saya tinggal di negara ini. Kenapa? Saya ulang lagi: umur saya 23 tahun, ras Indocina, tinggi badan 155 cm, dan orang-orang bilang saya childlike and childish. Dan di bawah ini adalah kejadian-kejadian yang bikin saya bertanya-tanya sama diri saya sendiri: gimana sih caranya biar orang-orang ini bisa bener-bener identify saya?

1. Hari ketiga saya di sini, saya mau buka rekening bank. Saya pergi ke bank dan dilayani sama teller bule.
Saya: Saya mau buka account (sambil ngasihin paspor saya, karena emang cuma itu yang 'adult foreigner' butuhin buat bikin rekening bank).
Teller: (Tanpa ngecek paspor saya dulu) Anda punya surat yang ditandatangani orang tua Anda? Anak di bawah 17 tahun ngga bisa bikin account bank tanpa surat orang tua.
Saya: Umur saya 22...
Teller: (Ngecek paspor saya. Mimik muka berubah. Ngelihat saya sekejap...) Okay. Sebentar, saya panggil rekan saya dulu (... dan ngabur).
Ngga lama kemudian, dateng lah teller lain yang akhirnya ngelayani saya, sementara teller yang itu ngga tau ke mana perginya. Mungkin dia malu.

2. Host mother saya ulang tahun dan saya memutuskan untuk ngasih dia kado cokelat praline premium yang filling-nya alkohol. Waktu saya mau bayar, si kasir dengan sopan bilang, "Maaf, kita ngga ngejual alkohol ke orang berumur di bawah 18 tahun". Mungkin dia sadar kalau orang Asia umumnya emang 'awet muda', dia cepet-cepet bilang lagi, "Eh... maaf, umur Anda sebenernya berapa? Boleh saya liat ID-nya?"
Waktu itu saya ngga bawa paspor, tapi saya ngelihatin SIM Indonesia saya, dan akhirnya pulang membawa cokelat beralkohol.

3. Ngga semua orang di negara ini berpengetahuan luas. Ngga semua orang di negara ini bisa ngebedakan antara ras Indocina, Asia Timur, dan Hispanik. Orang-orang ini bisa aja ngira saya orang Fillipina, Thailand atau Vietnam--wajar. Tapi apakah saya kelihatan kaya orang Jepang atau China atau--ini aneh--Brazil?? Banyak orang yang berusaha ramah sama saya dengan nyapa saya dengan kata-kata berikut: "Kamu dari Jepang yah?" atau langsung seruduk "Ni hao ma?" atau "Konichiwa". Awalnya sih ngga masalah, tapi lama2 (karena saking seringnya) muak juga.
Suatu malam di kereta menuju Bremen, ada cowok kira-kira umurnya 20-an tahun, dan tampaknya dia lagi tipsy.
Dia: Ni hao ma?
Saya: Umm... saya bukan dari China.
Dia: Konichiwa?
Saya: Bukan juga dari Jepang...
Dia: Terus kamu dari mana?
Saya: Indonesia.
Dia: (Geleng-geleng kepala) Das kenne ich gar nicht (translate: Saya ngga tau sama sekali Indonesia itu apa).

4. Di tempat kursus bahasa Jerman, saya kenalan sama seorang cewek eksotis yang umurnya kira-kira hampir 30-an. Dari awal ngelihat dia, saya bertanya-tanya, jangan-jangan dia orang Indonesia juga.
Saya: Ich bin Orissa.
Dia: Ich bin Rissa. Woher kommst du?
Saya: Indonesia. Du?
Dia: (Mimik muka terkejut dan excited... plus logat Sunda yang kental) Oooh, dari Indonesia? Saya dari Sukabumi!
Saya: Saya dari Bandung!
Dia: Ooh, Sunda oge atuh nya. Hahaha! Saya pikir teh kamu dari Brazil. Ngga nyangka pisan kamu orang Indonesia, urang Sunda deuih.

5. Saya punya temen orang Brazil, cewek, umurnya 18 tahun (tapi kelihatan kayak wanita umur 25-an). Dia kaget begitu tau umur saya bukan 16. Dia ngajarin saya gimana caranya applying make-up supaya kelihatan sedikit lebih dewasa. Saya beli satu set peralatan make-up lengkap dan nyoba itu di rumah. Pendapat saya: saya justru kelihatan kaya teenage prostitute. Dia bilang: "Hmm... mungkin (kamu) lebih baik tanpa make-up".

5. Saya ganti profile picture saya di Facebook dan Yahoo! Messenger sama foto yang di mana saya kelihatan ngga kayak biasanya (maksudnya biar kelihatan lebih dewasa). Temen-temen saya di Indonesia menanggapinya beda-beda, tapi kebanyakan beranggapan itu aneh. Bahkan salah satu dari mereka bilang: "Ladi-Gaga-wanna-be yah?".

6. Saya ngelamar kerja jadi volunteer, dan suatu hari diundang ke seminar dan ketemu sama pelamar-pelamar lainnya. Waktu pekenalan diri, saya bilang umur saya 23 tahun, dan tiba-tiba salah satu dari mereka spontan nyeletuk dengan ekspresi muka terkejut, "Wirklich??".

7. Saya sering makan di restoran pizza langganan di kota tempat saya tinggal. Setiap saya dan temen saya (orang Indonesia juga, mini juga) makan di situ, kita selalu dikasih permen loli. Kita sih seneng-seneng aja dikasih loli gratis. Sampai suatu hari, kita akhirnya terlibat obrolan sama si pemilik restoran.
Dia: (Sambil megang 2 loli yang 'akan' dikasih ke kita) Ngomong-ngomong umur kalian berapa sih?
Saya: 22.
Temen saya: 21.
Dia: Ya ampun! Saya pikir kalian 15 tahun. Mestinya selama ini saya ngga ngasih loli. Nih, kalian berhak dapat ini (sambil nyodorin dua gelas alcohol beverage).

Who is God?

2010-01-12T17:47:00.011+01:00

"Help me Jesus! Help me Jewish god! Help me Allah! Help me Tom Cruise!" (Ricky Bobby)

Some people might think this is inappropriate, but I'm questioning it anyway: Who is God to you? How do you address Him (or Her)? Is He (or She) Allah? Father? Jesus? Yahweh? Elohim? Brahma? Zeus? Tom Cruise? Or maybe He (or She) just 'God' who doesn't have a name? Or maybe you don't even believe in any kind of god?

So first of all, let us know what God literally means:
1. the supreme being: the supernatural being conceived as the perfect and omnipotent and omniscient originator and ruler of the universe; the object of worship in monotheistic religions;
2. deity, divinity: any supernatural being worshipped as controlling some part of the world or some aspect of life or who is the personification of a force;
3. a man of such superior qualities that he seems like a deity to other people;
4. idol: a material effigy that is worshipped.
(source: wordnetweb.princeton.edu/perl/webwn)

Definition number 1 may reffer to 'God' in religions. You name it: Allah, Father, Jesus, Yahweh etc. This 'God' has been introduced to (most of) us by people before us since the day we were born. This 'God' becomes the most important power that we have to worship, the reason we live and die, the reason we go to church every Sunday or make the pilgrimage to Mecca.

And then there's a supreme rule we know: there's no god before our God. As a child, I was quite confused about this: "If there's no God before my God (whom I called Allah), then who are this Father, Jesus,Yahweh, Wisnu, and Khrisna? Why do they have different law in ruling the universe? Do they fight against each other for the sake of becoming the almighty?"

I asked my father about this. He was quite a smart person with an open mind, who always came up with good explanation whenever I asked him about something. He said, "No gods before our God. It means we worship the real power who creates the universe, not another mortal nor material (definition number 3 and 4, in this case: Tom Cruise, money, or your pimped car). God is god. People just call Him in different names and worship Him in different ways. We call Him Allah, while our neighbor call Him Father. It's a matter of choice (of belief system)".

And it brings us to the definition number 2.

There's a bunch of people who define god as that in number 2, who preffer addressing god as just 'God' without a name. We may call them non-religious or spiritual agnostic--which reminds me of John Lennon. Why John Lennon?

John Lennon wrote and performed a song 'Imagine', which is often considered Lennon's magnum opus (great work). In the book written by Geoffrey Giuliano, Lennon commented that the song was "an anti-religious, anti-nationalistic, anti-conventional, anti-capitalistic song" (source: 'Lennon in America: 1971-1980 Based on the Lost Lennon Diaries' by Geoffrey Giuliano, published by Cooper Square Press, 2000). I cannot conclude whether Lennon is a spiritual agnostic or an atheist or whatever--it's not what I'm writing about.

Why does one become a non-religious? Some people decide to become non-religious because they get tired of living in certain groups which seem to narrow their mind, or they feel they don't belong or they don't agree of the certain rules. They get tired of certain people fighting against each other because they call god in different names and worship Him in different ways. They get tired of violence, fights, wars, and religious hypocrites who don't seem to be the right example. So if living as non-religious brings them peaceful life, then why not?

And there are also atheists who positively deny the existence of god or the position that deities. Atheists tend to lean towards skepticism regarding supernatural claims, citing a lack of empirical evidence (source: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Atheism). Why does one become atheist? It usually begins with questioning or not questioning at all or unwillingness of believing. Most atheists have considered and rejected the theism taught to them in childhood, though some atheists were never taught theism to begin with. Many who were never taught theism as children do encounter religious claims as children or adults, and consciously reject those claims.

I haven't met anyone who openly declare himself as an atheist in my home country, so I didn't know how atheist define god or how they view the supernatural being. By the time I got here in Germany, I met so many atheists whom I can ask about this kind of philosophy. I also have few atheist friends. When I asked them how they define 'God', one simply answered: "If a god has to answer questions, then god for me, my friend, is Google", and another smartly and confidently answered: "For me, god is clever man-made authority. We are the gods of our own. We control the universe".

To you your faith, and to me mine.
So, does it really matter for each of us to call God with different names? Does it bother so much that people would kill each other for they don't have the same faith? My point is, when it comes to the issue of faith, god, and belief, no man should suggest what is best for others. People kill and fight against each other in the name of their religion and their gods, and (I don't know why) some still believes that their gods allow them to do violence. Why does it happen? It would be nice if man doesn't think what he believes in is what others should believe in too, if man doesn't tell others that they're wrong for they don't claim his god as their god, or even for they don't believe in one. Why? Because we just have to accept the fact that people have different needs, different perspectives of life, and different thoughts. Simply saying: wouldn't it be cruel making your friend who hates melon eat melon? Faith is one's will as to what he wants to believe. So why bother?

"And I shall not worship that which you worship. Nor will you worship that which I worship. To you your religion, and to me mine." (The Qur'an - Sura 109:4-6)

Le Voyage de Paris

2010-01-08T21:51:00.015+01:00

The first time I set my foot in Europe, many people told me to go to Paris, because, as they said, "going to Europe without visiting Paris means nothing". I was like, "Yeah, right". I always thought that Paris was just okay. I've seen Paris in movies, on TV, and magazines. Everyone says that Paris is the romantic yet beautiful city in the world. I would rather go to southern part of France or mountainous land like Greece or Switzerland instead of city like Paris. For me, Paris was just the capital city of France. That's all. But that was before I visited Paris. So, on January 1st 2010, Mia, Banon, and I traveled to Paris as so-called backpackers (although we don't have that backpacker's backpack). After a long journey with a tour bus (plus a bunch of noisy Vietnamese teenagers), we finally arrived at Paris.

We stayed at Etap Hotel Porte de la Chapelle, a cheap small hotel--but still very comfortable for people with small budget like us. The most amusing thing of this hotel room is: the bathroom was separated only with a transparent glass door without lock. Perfect for lovebirds. You can just hop in to join showering with your partner without asking permission. Isn't it just super cool?

The first attraction we visited was Basilique du Sacre-Coeur (The Basilica of the Sacred Heart of Jesus of Paris), which is located at the highest point in the city. I didn't get the chance to go inside the basilika. But however, I still enjoyed the city view from the summit of the butte Montmartre.

Basilique du Sacre-Coeur

The city view from the summit.

Next stop was the most famous tower on planet earth, symbol of the beauty of Paris: Eiffel Tower. If you're in Paris and miss the Eiffel Tower, you will regret it for the rest of your life. By the time I got there, I completely felt magical, I don't know why. I kept saying 'Man, I'm in Paris'. I tried to write down the reasons why this tower is so attractive that it becomes the most visited monument in the world (approximately 6.8 million people visit the Eiffel Tower every year, it is estimated that over a quarter of a billion people have view the Eiffel Tower since 1889). But... ... you just have to go there and see it to find out yourself because I can't describe it literally.

(The Eiffel Tower facts: http://www.eiffel-tower.us)

We saw almost every tourist attractions in Paris: Moulin Rouge (where the first public striptease dance was performed), Place de la Concorde with the Obelisk of Luxor, La Conciergerie, The Pantheon, University of Sorbonne, Jardin du Luxembourg (which reminds me of Jesse and Celine in 'Before Sunset'), and many more.

We also visited Notre Dame Cathedral (where the hunched back Quasimodo was found abandoned), The Saint-Sulpice Church (where Silas killed an innocent nun with the false keystone), The Saint-Eustache Church (we don't know what has happened here), Palais du Louvre and took pictures of the pyramids (as written in 'The da Vinci Code', Mary Magdalene could be buried in a submerged stone pyramid beneath the inverted pyramid). We went to Arc de Triomph and the prestigious avenue Champs-Elysees. It has been called la plus belle avenue du monde ("the most beautiful avenue in the world") which is also the most expensive strip of real estate in Europe.

The Saint-Eustache Church

We didn't meet Quasimodo here...

Where exactly was she burried?

La plus belle avenue du monde.

On the next day, we went to Palace of Versailles... the symbol of the system of absolute monarchy of the Ancien Regime, the 18000 square meters official residence of the Kings of France from 1682 until 1790. This enormous castle is amazingly luxurious and breathtaking. Again, I can't describe it with words. I couldn't stop wondering how it feels to live there, to get lost in my own home, and to be dying to find a single toilet (Fun fact: In the time of Louis XIV, there certainly were no toilets. They used chamberpots). No one really knows how much it cost to build the whole Versailles because Louis XIV had all the records destroyed. But it is estimated by modern historians from $2,500,000,000 (in 2003 US$) all the way up to a maximum cost of $299,520,000,000.

Chateau de Versailles (taken by Banon bonan)

We walked around Paris all day, took pictures, got lost, bought some souvenirs, and tried to find the best Parisian cuisine we can afford (but ironically we ended up eating BigMac... and French fries). We explored the beautiful small alleys of Paris, enjoyed the small artistical shops (which are very French). We took the metros to go around. But unfortunately we don't have all week. So we kind of missed many things. Musee du Louvre was already closed when we got there. But I promise myself, I'll go to Paris again and go inside the churches, cathedrals, museums, and ,of course, have French cuisine for lunch. So if you plan to visit Paris and go back home with the real feeling of yeah-I-have-been-to-Paris, here's my only tip: stay at least a week.

Now I know why almost everybody is dying to go to Paris...

Here are things about Paris:

Not all Parisians are rude nor speak only French, it's only MOST of them. They'll appreciate it when tourists try to speak French.
Most of the metro stations are dark, dirty, and smell of urine. People can also see some dog shits on sidewalks. So don't be surprised.
It's easy to get around (both in terms of transportation and navigation), although it's not as easy as it in Germany or Switzerland (much easier than it in Indonesia, of course).
Our tour guide always warned us to keep our wallets in a secure place and zip our bags all the time.
The Parisians are notoriously fashionable and well-dressed. Yeah of course, it's Paris! What makes me wonder was, they're all fit and slim...
Meals are expensive, but souvenirs are cheap.

My Horny Friend, His Theory and My Scepticism

2009-11-27T20:54:00.003+01:00

Here’s a conversation I had with a friend, couple days ago on Yahoo! Messenger. It's about marriage and stuff.

Him: I’m getting married.
Me: Wow. When?
Him: January next year.
Me: Cool! Happy to hear that.
Him: But I have a little problem: I don’t have money. I’ve never thought that wedding party was going to be that darn expensive.
((1) He doesn’t have money for the wedding.)
Me: Ow. Not good. But you work, don’t you?
Him: Naah. I haven’t graduated college yet. But I’m looking for a job, though.
((2) He hasn’t graduated yet, and (3) doesn’t have a job.)
Me: So, you’re financially not ready. And why so hurry? You’re 24. You're a man.
Him: I’m sexually ready.
(Yeah, always ready when it comes to your underpants.)
Me: It’s actually none of my business, but... how will you feed your family if you don’t have money AND a job? If having sex could earn yourself money, you and your wife would be safe.
Him: We can live with our parents until I graduate and get a job. It doesn’t matter. That’s what parents are for, of course.
(Of course. He’s Indonesian)
Me: Seriously?
Him: Well, I don’t care a bit of what you think--you and your Western-wanna-be way of thinking. I’m going to get married on January next year, even if I don’t have money. Rejeki mah ga akan ke mana. And I’m going to have babies before turning 25, before I get too old to produce sperm.
(And this 'rejeki mah ga akan ke mana' misperception might be one of several causes of slothiness and poverty.)
Me: You’ll keep producing sperm at the age of 80... if you’re lucky.
Him: Yeah. Speaking of which, when will you get married, Ocha? You’re a woman. You’ll have menopause. If you’re 30 and still single, no man wants to marry you. You don’t want to end up being an unmarried virgin, do you?
(What the fuck?!)
Me: Well, I don’t care a bit of what you think--you and your theory. I mean... being thirty-something years old, married with kids, yet still live with parents? May I suggest you something?
Him: What?
Me: If you can’t deal with your own genitalia anymore, just hire a whore and wear condom--instead of starting a marriage life, which you’re probably not ready for.
(I still have no idea why I said that...)
Him: God have mercy, Ocha. It's a sin! What has happened to you? Let me tell you something. God says that if we’re ready to get married, then get married as soon as possible to avoid making zina--a sin.
Me: Does God really say that? Really? And by ‘ready’, does He also mean ‘really ready’, like ‘financially, emotionally, and spiritually’ ready?
Him: Hey, you’re talking with a man who has finished reading Quran twice here. Don’t argue with me.
Me: Well... (speechless)... Then good luck with that.
Him: Thanks again.

So what do you think?

The day(s) when my parents dragged me to hell

2009-10-14T23:18:00.013+02:00

“Some of the best lessons we ever learn are learned from past mistakes. The error of the past is the wisdom and success of the future.”
(Dale E. Turner)

After almost 24 years of marriage (and a lot of fights, arguments, and lies), my parents finally decided to get divorced. If only I were just a stupid kid, I'd be pretty sad and scared. I would sob wildly and beg them to change their minds. I might have gone wild and grown up as a loser, probably been a drug addict who gets pregnant at 14 and given myself up to prostitution. Well, yeah. It might have been that terrible. But now that I’m 23, not stupid, and doing well, I have a different view. I am glad that they finally separated. I’m not afraid of having them not together at the same house anymore—I already moved out anyway. Then again, I found it better for both of them to split up, than keeping the marriage as a horrible scenario. I mean, the longer they stay together, the more lies and tension they have, and the worse their life would be.

I’m sure that there’s no normal couple in this world who wants to get married and then end up divorced. As a normal kid who was born in a normal happy family, it was quite hard for me to believe that my parents’ marriage had started to become disastrous. Then I grew up finding that my family was dysfunctional, and I hated it and was ashamed to be the part of it. I kept thinking about running away from home but I’ve never done it because I didn’t want to be a bum or teenage prostitute anyway. So I continued to live my life with my parents who couldn’t stop fighting even about small fucking things. The thing I hated the most was that I knew when, why, and what they fought about. Since I am the eldest daughter, I was getting used to hearing both my mom and dad cursing and complaining about each other, not to each other but... to me. I found it not only really annoying, but also completely irritating and cruel. I mean, why to me? Why wouldn’t they sit together, communicate it, and solve the problem themselves? How could they be so selfish and do me harm in such a way?

Let’s have a flashback with my own point of view.

My mom and dad got married when they were still young, stupid, and not ready. My mom, 21, couldn’t wait to get out of the house and get married with a prince charming and live happily ever after. My dad, 31, was (at the time) a successful young man, a bon vivant with a good prospect of career, who was told that it was time to get married or never get married at all. And then they had me and my sister. Like other parents, they always wished their daughters all the best. They wanted us to be ready for all the things life would give, to be tough, successful and rich; not to be ungrateful and not to let them spend the very last time of their life at a nursing home. But they didn’t have any idea. They were too young to get rid off of their selfishness. They were too busy making one another miserable, blaming each other for the unsatisfactory life. So they let us to find our own way, while they fought over their own prides.

They’ve never meant to make us feel miserable, but however we did. We were emotionally-disturbed. There were times of desperation, the times when we couldn’t stop cursing our parents on our diaries and thinking how unfair life was. But thanks God it didn’t last forever. And luckily, we, the daughters, grew up in such a supportive environment. We’ve been surrounded by good happy people who always make us think that it’s good to have a good life, rather than wasting it in regret and hatred and revenge to our parents for they don’t have such a successful marriage. I mean, why would we live our life with things that turn out to have no advantage for us? Yes, we were once miserable and might be labeled ‘broken home kids’, but we promised not to screw up our life. I would say that I am a high-motivated person, because of my parents’ not-understanding of the definition of a meaningful life.

I’ve learned many things from it. I represent someone who’s better because of divorce (of my parents—hopefully it won’t happen to me). What seems to be the problem for me is that I don't have a textbook example of what a marriage is supposed to be. But my wise aunt Mia said that we just have to let some things go with the flow and not be stressed out about it.

Things I’ve learned so far from my parents’ marriage and divorce:

1. I don’t have to spend my whole life living with anyone who doesn't want to be with me, and who doesn’t even want to try hard to make it work.

2. People can both hate and love at the same time. I have reasons to hate my parents, but since they're my parents, I cannot hate them as much as I love them.

3. Communication is the hardest yet most important for a couple.

4. Love is constantly evolving.

5. It takes years to build up trust, and only seconds to destroy it. Oh now I can really see the point of this sentence.

It’s true what people say: You don’t mess viz ze Germans!

2009-10-14T19:51:00.009+02:00

And now I’m going to share my painful story with the German national railway company, Deutsche Bahn (DBahn), to whom I had to pay almost 140 Euros. Thus I still blame that bloody ticket machine.

On June 2 2009, at 10.45 PM, I rode my bike from Schmidt Bar to the Rotenburg-Wümme train station, soooo fast. I was to catch the last train that usually departs at 10.49 PM. I got there in the last minute, but I still had time to buy ticket from the ticket machine. I didn’t have cash, so I tried to pay with my ATM card. And what happened was that the bloody ticket machine couldn’t accept my card (and I’m still wondering why). The train departed just when I was still trying to deal with the ticket machine to have a ticket. I've heard that people can also buy the ticket directly on the train from the ticket controller. So I kicked that darn error ticket machine, carried my bike away, and entered the train… with no ticket. I parked my bike in front of coffee machine. I left it there and tried to find the ticket controller (you see, I didn’t mean to be an illegal passenger). On the next wagon, I found her, the ticket controller woman, the Hanna Schmidt—if you already watched Kate Winslet’s The Reader, you’ll know exactly what I mean. I came to her and she greeted me nicely. That Hanna seemed very nice—a person whom I thought I could deal with.

Me: “I need a ticket for me and my bike to Scheeβel. I was going to buy it, but I think the machine is kaput.”
Hanna Schmidt (smiled): “It’d be 6.80 Euro please,”
(I gave her my ATM card.)
Hanna Schmidt (still smiled): “Oh, sorry, we take only cash.”
Me: “But… I don’t have cash.”
Hanna Schmidt (faked her smile): “But we take only cash.”
(I looked through my wallet, found no more Euros.)
Me: “I only have 20 cents.”
(I apparently caused a mood-swing on her. She looked at me with the look of “You darn Ausländer, fooling around in my beloved country!”)
Hanna Schmidt (didn’t smile at all): “It doesn’t cost 20 cents. I’m so sorry. I have to fine you for not having a valid ticket. Your passport, please.”
(She took a pen out of her pocket and started to write on her pad.)
Me (still tried to convince her): “The ticket machine is down, you know. I tried to buy the ticket. I also tried to find you to buy one. I never want to be an illegal passenger.”
(Hanna didn’t say anything.)

URGGHH!! I wanted to scream out loud at her face, and once again kick the machine. I could buy a nice H&M jacket with 40 Euros, or eat Waffle mit heissen Kirschen ten times, or go to Hamburg and go back to Scheeβel twice. With 40 Euros I could even buy myself a Wochenendeticket and travel around Germany! F**k!

Who’s to blame?
a. The ticket machine of course. I went to Scheeβel train station the day after and bought a ticket with my ATM card, just to check if only my ATM card was the problem. But it wasn’t.
b. Myself, because I wasn’t prepared enough. I should’ve checked the train schedule, gone out of the bar earlier and hit the ATM first.
c. Hanna Schmidt and DBahn. No, I don’t blame their system. It’s just disappointing that they don’t take cards. I know that Germans are always well-prepared for everything. But there’s possibility that a man doesn’t have cash and also time to hit the ATM before he gets on the train. And it was the last train on that day! Please, you guys…

Oh, I’m not finished.

A week later, I received a mail from DBahn. There were two invoices as enclosure in the envelope. Thinking that the other invoice was just a copy, I transferred the money to DBahn account, using online banking service. I thought the damage was done. But I was wrong.
Two weeks later, I again received a mail from DBahn, with the same enclosures they’ve sent me before. But the amount of money I had to pay was 47 Euros, 7 Euros more. They also enclosed a paper for transferring money (What do you people call it?). I asked my host mother about it. I told her that I paid the fine and asked her why it kept coming. She said, “It’s for you to send if you don’t use online banking. It’s the traditional procedure.”

I understood.

Three weeks later, just after I came back from an amusing holiday in Switzerland, I received a mail from DBahn again. And this time, they sent me detail of things I had to pay, with total amount of 92 Euros! I told my host mother again. She was as shocked as I was. She called DBahn office right away, asking what was wrong and also complaining (and calling them ‘wahnsinn’). She looked even more upset than I did.

After checking up all the letters DBahn has sent me, finally we knew the reason why I had to pay almost 140 Euros instead of only 40 Euros. It turned out, that I’ve got fined apparently 80 Euros for not having valid tickets for myself… and my bike (well, my bike got fined too… it’s so not fair). I paid the fine for myself, but I had ignored that for my poor bike. The total amount of the fine had then become more and more to pay.

I’ve lost 40 Euros. I was still upset about it. And then I lost more. I couldn’t be more upset.

My host mother felt sorry for me. She couldn’t help me more because it was my own mistake. She said, “That’s why people say ‘You don’t mess viz ze German’, Ocha. We’re completely strict.”

So guys, please always have cash in your wallet.

The day when I was spritually slapped by a 6-year-old kid

2009-10-04T13:57:00.010+02:00

So now I’m going to share a bit of my spiritual experience here.

Since I got here in Germany, I’m getting used to people declaring that they’re atheist. My host father is also an atheist, who was born and raised in an atheist family (“Wir möchten wissen, nicht nur glauben,” his father said).

I, myself, am not an atheist. I do believe in God. I was born with the same denomination as my parents’. Our religion has dietary law and rules about the dos and the don’ts. Every intoxicants consumption is generally forbidden (unlawful or haram). So drinking alcohol and getting drunk are forbidden. But I’ve drunken alcohol and been drunk before. I’m not very much a drinker though. I don't like alcohol. I’ve been drunk like twice or three times in my whole life. My mom didn’t know (oh by the way, she’s not that religious either, but not drinking alcohol is more like our own tradition). My mom once said that if she found me drunk, she would kick me out of the house. Beside, what is more embarrassing than telling people your secrets while you’re unconscious?

I’ve been living in Germany for months. Germany, the land of beer, bratwurst, and lederhosen. I told people that I don’t drink alcohol nor eat pork. But sometime I broke the rules by eating pudding with small amount of emulgator (from pig) or champagne-filled chocolates. I've also incidentally eaten pork sausages.

One day, I got a job to babysit my neighbor’s daughters. The parents went to a party until midnight, so I had to take them to bed at night. It was 10 PM, the kids were asleep. I was sitting on the couch, reading magazine, when one of the kids came down the stairs from her bedroom. She stood up at the door, looked at me, but she seemed unconscious.
I said, “Why did you wake up?”
She said in German, “Are you God?”
I tried to process the words in my brain because I realized that I don’t understand much of German, especially words that come out of sleepwalking unconscious kid. But I was sure that she asked whether I am God or not. After two seconds, I simply replied, “No.”
She said in German, “Are you Jesus?”
I said, “No.”
My mind said, “What the heck is she jabbering about?”
She stood up still. Her eyes were half closed.
I still sat on the couch, still looked at her. I said, “Why are you asking me that?”
She said nothing.
I said, “Do you want me to take you back to bed?”
She said nothing. She just looked around the living room.
I called her name.
She said nothing. She just looked around the living room.
After two seconds, she said in German, “You know, Ocha. God is everywhere. Although we’re far away from home, He still knows everything we do and say.”
I was one hundred percent sure of what I heard, I understood clearly. So I starred at that 6 year-old girl. I still did stare at her as she turned herself around and walked upstairs. I followed her to her bedroom. She went to bed and continued to sleep again.
She said, “Gute Nacht, Ocha”. She was completely awake when she said that.
I walked down the stairs. I wanted to continue reading my magazine. But when I realized something, I couldn’t do anything but pray for forgiveness.

Exactly a day earlier, it was Thursday night. My friends and I went to a bar. There we had a party held after school to celebrate the end of the “German as Foreign Language” test. There we had chit chat and beers from boot-shaped glasses. I was also tempted to drink again. But I promised myself to get home peacefully.
And one of a friend said, “I thought you were Moslem.”
I said, “I am.”
He said, “Are you supposed not to drink alcohol? Moslem shall not drink alcohol, right?”
I said, “Yeah, I know. I mean, come on. My parents are thousands miles away. They wouldn’t know.”
And he said, “Prost!”
Then I drank. Again. And again. And I got home (not drunk but) with such a headache and pain in the ass because I’ve got fined on a train for not having a valid ticket (I'll tell you the details later).

There you go. My spiritual story. It seems boring, but for me it’s something I won’t forget. What I can personally learn, is that I'm always reminded, "GOD exists, Ocha! He does. And you don't have a reason nor courage not to believe in Him (or Her?)."

Some things are better left unsaid

2009-09-30T23:08:00.020+02:00

... but I suppose YOU should know.

These are things I should have told you but I didn't:

1. I hated your job. I also hated it that you were famous as hell, and that you enjoyed all the adoration so much. I felt intimidated. It seemed that I supported you for your career, but I didn't really mean that way. That's why I wanted you to enroll in university.

2. I kissed you that day because (1) I was dared and (2) I always wanted to do it anyway. It was such a nicest dare I've ever succeeded.

3. I fucking hated your ex-girlfriend and all her dramas.

4. I still remember the name of the electronic store where you bought your TV. I was with you, remember?

5. I hated it when you were smoking because I always hated smokers, but smoking is the manliest (yet sexiest) activity you could ever do.

6. When you once said "Oh man, I feel pathetic because I don't have a girlfriend", I actually wanted to reply "Neither do I, so let's go steady" instead of "I pity you".

7. Everytime I said "I don't give a damn", it actually meant "I do care a lot about you".

8. George Benson and BeeGees are still on my play list.

9. I was never with that handsome cool guy my mom told you I was with.

10. Our chit-chat months ago was total bullshit. You bragged a lot and it bored me. I'm still wondering, what it was with you that day.

11. I've once crushed on a guy who looks like you. Though I knew that he was completely an idiot, I still wanted to go out with him.

12. I still have your name written on my diary.

13. If you think that I think that you are an asshole, then you're wrong. You are not an asshole. You never were. I was once with a guy who did not only kiss-and-tell, but also kiss-and-run. He's the winner of my 'Assholes Competition'.

So why didn't I just tell you?

1. Because you're a bloody moron. Or maybe I am too.

2. I couldn't define our relationship back then, and how we were going to be. I had (and still have no idea) what we were on about.

3. I was going to tell you anyway. But then you just disappeared.

4. Because you're a bloody moron. Or maybe I am too. Oh, wait, I mentioned it already.

5. I just don't have guts to tell you those things. I'd rather pretend that I don't care anymore.