yoodi's posts with tag: bali
 That was what it says in white chalk on the menu board standing on the pavement in front of this café announcing the special package for the day. I felt raindrops fell heavier on my head and was deciding whether to go inside escaping the rain or just continued walking. I peeked inside and saw empty white linen clothed tables decorated with a white lily in a small crystal like vase on top of every table.
I decided to sit on the veranda section of the café protected from the rain by a white colored canopy and chose the farthest side of the table from the sidewalk to avoid the rain. Not really in a hurry to be served I looked across the street watching wet grass on a small park turned shinier from the rain. Overlooking the park my eyes caught a window display of an interior design gallery. It showed a white themed bedroom décor of a massive light colored teakwood bed softened by sheets, down pillows and comforter all in white. My wandering mind then was so quick to build an imaginary setting of its own. One was an illustration of a tropical setting with ocean breeze flowing through an opened window blowing at a white see – through curtain. Inside is a teak paneled floor bedroom in some hidden villa in Canggu, Bali surrounded by rice fields and a view of a small river. Contrary to the tropical setting, other images that popped up from that “all white” window display were clips from TV commercials for either an air condition product or sanitary napkins for women. I couldn’t really help it of coming up with these latter pictures since it was an occupational hazard from working in an ad agency. Commercial for these type of products tend to highlight the whiteness of things to portray freshness and cleanness. Strange that since I walked past this café I felt attacked by this color starting with the white chalked menu list, tablecloth, white lily, canopy and that bedroom décor display. Anyhow, I prefer the tropical picture over the TV commercial ones as it gave me a quick get away window from the damp wet autumn day as it was that day.
The green tropical picturesque was shattered when the waitress came over to take my order. She was wearing an oversize white shirt (again that color) but wrapped thankfully in a black apron with front pockets filled with order book and a pen. I asked for a double espresso to speed up my caffeine intake for the day and asked her to come back later while I browsed the menu. My espresso came and I asked if she could give me a small cut of lime skin to put on my coffee. She came back with two small pieces on a white small plate. I learned this from an old Italian man years ago on how to make an espresso richer in flavor.
I studied the menu and saw lemon cheesecake again which was slightly more expensive than the plain cheesecake, obviously. I was always one that went for the old fashioned way when it came to food and drinks so I started to automatically think of ordering the plain one. The way I run my life was complicated enough and I could use a few basic simple way of living like a plain bagel instead of a cinnamon taste one or a cold beer instead of those colorful designer cocktails.
However, sitting there and staring again at the clean white tablecloth I felt I was entering a comfort zone that was long ago forgotten. So all of a sudden this out of the ordinary thought came over me and I told the waitress to bring me the lemon cheesecake. While waiting for my order I took out my shag tobacco and rolling paper . My finger started to do the art of rolling the thin white paper and making it into a thin cigarrete.
Watching my cigarette burned by a Zippo I started to think is it curiosity for the blended taste of cheese and lemon or is it simply boredom for the ordinary? The “great white attack” somehow already gave me a hugging – like feeling of coziness and now the thought of lemon taste over a traditional delicatessen like cheese charmed my curiosity.
The waitress came back with my cheesecake. I looked at it and it was prettier to look at than the ordinary one with gradient of yellowish color on the white cheese surface. The twist of lemon taste on my tongue felt like a fresh witty surprise over the usual stand alone cheese taste. As I took more bites I felt the fresh sweet taste was arousing some long forgotten senses inside. Savoring the lemon cheese taste, sniffing the aroma of strong espresso mixed with a scent of lime while enjoying the whiteness around me was like slouching in a giant comfortable sofa, it felt like home.
As I sat there absorbing all these, the rain has stopped. It was home but in a different world. It was like going scuba diving in that tropical place, seeing the beauty of the colorful marine lives and an underwater flower garden made of coral reefs. The world separated by open water and an oxygen tank, the deeper you go the more beautiful it was. It was a dangerous playground unless you are an expert diver in the hand of an experience dive master.
I tossed a few bills to pay for everything and left the café. Walking across the small park I kicked some reddish autumn leaves lying on the green carpet of wet grass. Some raindrops still rested on the leaves like teardrops hanging on a pair of sad eyes. Kicking the leaves made the water splashed on my shoes and I carried those teardrops with me as I walked away. Sitting on a wet iron park bench l looked back at the café. I thought about the options, weighing possibilities of living between two worlds. I knew my next stop would be home, the one in my world.
I would miss my lemon cheesecake even when the taste continued to linger on my taste bud. I even knew that I would miss it still as I bite into it the next time. This was like a secret love affair between two characters on two different story frames of the same comic page. Sharing the same space but separated by two different stories. Unification could only be decided by the almighty illustrator.
I then realized that I too wore a white shirt over a pair of washed out jeans that day. Another long forgotten habit of my preferred attire for a simple look which strangely I put on again that rainy autumn day. I continued my walk home and wondering whether my closet would have enough space to hang my white shirts and a diving wetsuit.
 I was standing there in a moment of indecisiveness on the side street of Kuta on a hot sticky afternoon with none whatsoever appealing options of where to go when this girl blurted out something about going to a used book store she accidentally saw the day before, somewhere in one of the nearby streets.
Breaking apart from the mainstream crowd we started walking a long stretch block on the narrow sidewalk amongst the cluttered traffic of motorbikes and cars not really sure if it was the right street. Still, I prefer getting lost rather than tolerating anymore lame jokes and self righteous remarks from the wannabes big shots vacationers.
My usual wandering mind started to play its funny tricks again as we walked the street. Somehow the weather forecast started to change drastically inside my head as the humid tropical heat started to evaporate and replace by the cool light autumn breeze escorted with a soft voice of Suzanne Vega's poetic folky song playing in the background. What triggered all that was probably my usual erratic banging in the head that connects useless series of separate events into one big scenario. Maybe it was from the search for this used book store and the fact that I have once lent her one of Haruki Murakami's book while we were listening to one of Vega's literate poem like lyrics. As for the autumn breeze, well I guessed it goes well with the music which by the way transcended from another episode of another long walk and staying up late in some Mediterranean spot.
The blast of car horn brought me back to reality and I heard her soft happy cried pointing to the book store across the street on our right side. The noise of the steel chimes broke out as we opened the door alerting the middle aged proprietor of his out of towner customers. We started to make small conversations about his book collections as she browsed around the store that only has one ceiling fan working desperately to fight the heat. Although not really in the mood of buying anything as I almost ran out of cash I noticed the store has quite a collection of old and new books. Sitting there in the heat I heard she mumbled some apology about having to make me wait while she went over some list of books that she was searching. I smiled within realizing how little did she knew that being in that book store she has taken me to my first and probably only comfort zone during this trip. Finding some of the book she was looking and paying for them we exchange greetings with the friendly owner and walked out the door.
Walking towards the directions of the rendezvous point with the rest of the group we realized that we still have some time to kill. Needing some cold drinks to ease the heat we stop at one of the sidewalk cafe and sit on the bar. Sitting there sipping my cold beer and talking to her I knew then that her search for an old used book store on some unknown street has salvaged me from closely having an unmemorable trip even if it was to happen on the last day.
The noise of busy airport terminal always sounds soothing to me. That female voice announcing flights flying off to cosmopolitan cities like Frankfurt and Prague or exotic destinations like Morocco and Bali is like an open invitation to escape the current dreading reality of my life. The transit terminal that morning smells of freshly brewed coffee from the coffee shops that just opened their doors to the global commuters from all around the world. By now I have a little less than an hour before its time to board the plane again continuing the flight to my final destination. I sit there in my usual corner table in one of the coffee shop with a cup of hot coffee in front of me. No, I never set foot in this place before but there was once upon a time that I declared every corner table all over the world to be mine. As expected this corner table in this busy transit terminal has my name on it.
I watched people come and go around me. The rush of business travelers hurried to meet their plane as if missing the next board meeting in some cities will proof to be deadly to their corporate careers. In deep contrast to the business travelers earlier I saw a couple of backpackers with their laid back attitude with all the time in the world on their side. My eyes caught the site of several stewardesses in different color uniforms with their compact hand carrier walked by in fast paced ignoring all the signage around them as if their beautiful long legs know exactly where to go. There is something comforting and intimate about stewardesses in the way they speak to you in a friendly and polite tone attending to your every need. I wonder how these women can manage to look so smart and attractive this early in the morning. Well, maybe Im just crazy about women in uniform.
I stared at a piece of white form in front of me wondering if I should fill it out now or later on board. I looked at my watch and saw that I still have enough time to leisurely finish my coffee and fill out the form if I wanted to. Secretly I have this longing desire to hear them announce that my flight would be delay therefore prolonging the time I can sit at my corner table. This could well be the reflection of my life at this moment which could use some transit time of its own from its everyday routines. Suddenly, I can just see my life sit at my corner table drinking my coffee in a busy international terminal without a care in the world while deciding which flight it choose to take to be the next destination, may that be an exotic or cosmopolitan ones.
I looked again at the white disembarkation form distributed on board earlier by a sweet looking oriental stewardess in a high split Chinese dress. I decided to just go ahead filling out the form. I filled out all the required information like name, passport number and flight number. After filling out the spaces stating my boring destination I see the boxes to check for Male or Female. This part always amuses me and I wonder why they use Sex as a heading instead of Gender. I felt like adding additional two boxes to choose for, Occasionally and Self Inflicting Pleasure.
Shattering my wish for the delay, I heard the announcement of my next flight. Grabbing my stuffs I start heading towards my gate. Choosing to walk instead of taking the automatic walkway I passed by the immigration counters with several line of people queuing. I noticed separate counters for Foreigners and Resident Passport Holders. They should have made one counter for me that marked Alien as I just didnt feel like belonging to this universe right now.
Thinking along that line as I entered and smells that familiar scent of an airline cabin staring at the sweet smiles and greetings of the stewardess I wondered maybe I shouldve chose Female in that form before and that might turn my life around a little bit. Emerging in my next boring destination re-born as a new person could be well what I needed now.
| |
Link: 
