Here and There

People amazingly have complete different reactions/opinions toward a same single situation/thing.

Here, the southern hemisphere particularly in a little place I call my hometown, is where I was born, I grew up and live at the moment. There, is another hemisphere. A place that I once lived and still have its influence in my life. Especially for the fact that I am in touch with some friends. So, this is how it goes, from my friends here and my friends there. Spot the difference.

• Situation (S) : I phonecall my friend, "I am drunk,"

My friend here (H) : "Oh my God. You little alcoholic snot! Repent. Don't let anybody rape you!"
My friend there (T) : "Ha-ha. Have fun! Cool party huh? Have a great time! Enjoy!"

• S : I wrote an email saying that I'm having a holiday in Spain.

H : "You're so lucky. Traveling all the time huh? No wonder you're still single. Don't you think about savings for your future? Or you have a super rich Dad? Well, just take care of yourself. Don't forget to bring souvenirs,"
T : "Oh good. Have you tried paella? Don't try gazpacho. It's just a cold tomato soup with a Spanish name. Do you plan to visit Alhambra? Send me postcards from there!"

• S : My ex boyfriend visits me after we split up. We intend to go to a certain place in order to sort out our past and be good friends. Knowing this, my Dad asks my brother to accompany me. I agree but later on send my brother back home because I want to talk with my ex in private. My Dad gets very upset upon this and asks me to go home immediately.

H : "Your Dad only wants to take care of you. He wants to protect you, it's his responsibility. He loves you. Don't just see from your point of view. Think what he feels if something happens to you,"
T : "Gosh. That's insane. You're 28! Tell him you have a right to decide for yourself,"

• S : A friend arranged a date for me with someone she knew. He turned out to be completely boring and unattractive. I flied from the place at once, saying that I have an urgent 'woman issue'.

H : "(angrily) If you don't want to be his date, at least be a good host. Give him clear signal that you're not interested, he will understand. But accompany him until you finish eating. It's impolite to suddenly left him.You're arrogant. He doesn't ask you to marry yet, does he? You're not a hundred percent sure that he's also attracted to you, are you? Why don't you just hang on for a while and look civilised?"
T : "That's my girl. Don't let him think he'll get a good night kiss or even a chance to drive you home. Get a taxi to a local bar and hang out with cool dudes only,"

• S : A friend of mine got pregnant with her ex boyfriend, who is with another girl now.

H : "Oh No. Tell him he has to marry her. He has to take his responsibility and leave his girlfriend now,"
T : "Don't tell him anything. She doesn't want him to get his custody, does she?"

• I complained that my Dad doesn't support me to travel.

H : " You're ungrateful. You're lucky enough that he let you travel once. I think now it's time for you to think about your future: climb on your career ladder, have a settled life, have a good job and take care of your family rather than just thinking about your own needs all the time,"
T : "Well, if you know what you want, go get it. With or without support. Your Dad will understand eventually,"

• About being a friend

H : "Why don't you reply messages? Why don't you tell your friend you're here? Why you don't come to visit sometimes?"
T : "It's good to have friends but you need a space for yourself,"

• I'll add this list when I remember more. As a note, I don't go for either opinions. But as someone who stay in between and try to respect everyone, sometimes, this can be quite tricky. In the end I have to pick a side. Most of the time, I go to the third choice : never ask opinion. I can be a good friend without telling them my problems.

another missing note

This is one mising note from my journey to Japan.

It was a damp winter evening in Hakata when I staggered along the alleys of the suburbs. My shoes were muggy, my hair was scruffy and I had three big rucksacks hanging on my body like apes in Sacred Monkey Forest Sanctuary. It is Indonesian culture to bring people souvenirs from travel, to indicate that we keep them in mind.  “People” basically mean everybody who knows me. I held my crumpled map tight under drizzly rain, desperately navigated myself amid the Fukuoka prefecture’s winding narrow roads.

“Kanzakimachi wa doko ni arimasuka?”

I thought I spoke the language but strangely nobody understood me. They attempted to help but unfortunately I even went further to the dense part of the town. The air was as humid as after monsoonal rain in rice fields and I was starving like beggar.

When I saw a small, bright, dry and pleasant-looking restaurant loaded with people chattering in one corner of the street, I felt seeing a light at the end of a tunnel. Driven by the aroma, I stepped in. No single foreigner. I didn’t look like one either, until I opened my mouth.

“I want to eat,”

All of a sudden, everybody stopped talking. Men behind the counter stared at me, then to everybody else as if seeking for explanation. I anxiously glanced the whole room. There were long tables arranged in rows, few people busy preparing food, three notice boards in Japanese character displaying menu (I guessed) and a bunch of guests observing me back.

“That one, inside the…pan,” I gesticulated.

The pan was actually identical to a cauldron; it was big, stocked with yellowish liquid, boiling and sizzling. A chef kept putting more ingredients in. If it was part of wizardry, I wouldn’t be very surprised. I noticed most of the guests were men, wearing dull-coloured shirts and towels tied on their heads. One gave me his bowl, saying something unintelligible but I comprehended that he wanted me to taste his because the soup was spicy hot (signalled by pushing his tongue like panting hound and waving his hand frantically in front of his mouth).  I hesitated. Never in my life had I eaten from a stranger’s bowl. What about hepatitis? Yet almost every heads in the house nodded in agreement. I didn’t want to let them down.

Everyone was watching when I pushed a spoonful of the fluid into my mouth. It was incredibly tasty: a thick savoury warm soup with meet broth, combined by fragrance of boiled vegetables, herbs like parsley and lemongrass, a hint of ginger, pepper, chilli and other flavour that I would never recognise.

“It is good,”

I did not exaggerate at all. Everyone was laughing and even clapping, as if it was an entertaining performance. I caught a glimpse of price on the boards, relieved by the amount of zero. I didn’t understand their number. I shouldn’t have been worried. Dinner that night was on them. I should just have known the name of the dish.