The Dusty Sneakers

June 27, 2015

Down and Up the Grand Canyon

We heard his breath first – eergh eergh aaargh. It was more like grunts than breathing, the sound of someone hating himself for pushing through an obstacle he would rather not deal with. When the man finally stepped in our sight, Jure and I leapt away from the shade-covered rock we’ve been sitting on to give him the space instead. He might look like he’s in his early twenties, and thus younger than us, but his yellow shirt was soaked with sweat and his face was in a shade of pink much darker than should be endured by any human beings.

“T-t-thank you,” he pushed himself to speak in between grunts. “I hiked all the way from the North Rim since midnight.”

Jure and I looked at each other, our eyebrows raised. It was almost 5pm and we were somewhere on the last mile of the Bright Angel Trail at the South Rim of Grand Canyon. The North Rim is 220 miles away and if we were to believe him, this guy would have already been hiking for more than 16 hours. He was either lying or insane, but it didn’t matter which was the case, for he was in pain. I probably looked like him myself the day before, when we hiked up the South Kaibob trail at 5pm after spending hiking throughout the South Rim before. My lungs were on fire that afternoon.

We walked away from the grunts after offering some words of encouragement. I empathized with his pain, although our walk was far less ambitious than his. Hiking in the Grand Canyon is not to be taken lightly. As signs all over the national park say, the Canyon demands respect. The heat is unforgiving, and on this particular day, a ranger we met on the way down said that it was “hot enough to fry an egg on a garbage can”. It is deceptively easy in the beginning, for all the trails go down to the Colorado River, but it takes two to three times as long to hike back up, especially since the shades are far and few in between.

Truth be told, hiking in the Grand Canyon is challenging, but it’s not as hard as the warnings made it to be, especially for seasoned Indonesian hikers. The trails are wide and solid, as opposed to the undependable, criss-crossed, made-as-you-hike trails in many Indonesian mountains. The hike we did was considered moderate by the park, but it was fairly easy even for us greenhorn hikers. We could have walked further down to the Indian Garden with Twosocks and our three other friends, but it would be a struggle for my lungs and I wanted to make sure that I finish the hike before 7pm because the rangers told us it is when rattlesnakes start to slither out.

Our hike back up to the Canyon rim was a pleasure. We walked as slow and as far as we liked. We were liberal with our breaks; in fact, we stopped every time we found a shady spot and sat as long as we liked. This kind of hiking is my jam. I’ve never had the urge to ‘conquer nature’ or to push myself physically. I don’t understand why I’d have to push push push my way to the top of a mountain to only take a short pause to enjoy the view from the top, before having to push push push my way down the mountain. I would much rather walk slowly, out of necessity because of my weakened lungs and to take my time to enjoy my surroundings.

From the rim, Grand Canyon looked surreal, as if we were looking at it through a slightly opaque screen. Maybe that was why my knees didn’t turn into jelly even when we were standing so close to the edge. I could only feel the enormity of the Canyon when we were in it, during the hike up when I was less focused on getting to a destination or catching up with my friends. I was a tiny speck amidst the red rocks and the Douglas Firs and bushes. The Canyon looked empty and deserted from above, but squirrels and mountain goats passed by during our breaks. Up close, I could see that smaller rock hills in the Canyon come in similar sizes. It was incredibly uncanny. You could almost conceive the smaller rock hills as UFOs, and that the whole Canyon was where the Mothership landed. Jure laughed when I said this to her, but she nodded in agreement. Later that day, we found out that there tours arranged with people who claim they’ve seen aliens in Grand Canyon.

Our climb took twice as long as the hike down, but we still rewarded ourselves with ice cream at the top – espresso for me and cookies and cream for her. We saw the guy who hiked from the North Rim when outside the ice cream shop, laying motionless on a bench, his face covered with a wet towel. He deserved the break.

We walked to the edge of the rim, looking down to see whether we can spot our friends who should have been making their way up by then. A buzz started on our right, a soft hum that got more urgent as more people flocked by. It took a while until Jure heard what they were talking about. Condors.

A condor bird in the flesh! There it was, a few steps to our right, a condor bird casually perching on a ledge. Its head was as pink as the guy who was lying motionless a few meters away, his beak was as menacing as I always thought it was. We could see the number 16 tagged on its wings; the Grand Canyon National Park keeps tag of the condor birds as part of their recovery and reintroduction program. Jure and I started talking about whether the condors referred to in the TV series of our childhood, Return of the Condor Heroes, are the same as these Arizonian ones. Two other condor birds flew by, circling above our heads.

“I wish our friends below could see this,” I murmured.

May 13, 2015

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Dari Puncak Sumbing, Saat Matahari Tak Terlihat

Gunung Sumbing, saat kami mengunjunginya, sedang tidak menjadi tuan rumah yang repot-repot bersolek. Tak terlihat matahari terbit, padang rumput di kejauhan, dan semacamnya. Ia berkabut dan nyaris selalu hujan. Ia bahkan seperti tuan rumah yang mengunci pintu depan dan menyuruh si tamu lompat pagar samping lalu jalan jongkok di bawah jemuran yang airnya masih menetes. Jalur baru desa Garung yang lebih landai dan pendek telah dipenuhi rombongan pendaki. Pos perizinan pendakian meminta kami naik lewat jalur lama untuk menghindari resiko kehabisan tempat berkemah. Jalur ini sedikit lebih terjal dan panjang. Hujan, kabut, serta jalur yang lebih terjal. Lengkap sudah.

Saya yang sehari menjelang pendakian sedikit demam, sempat kurang percaya diri untuk dapat mencapai puncak. Terkutuklah Arip Syaman yang batal ikut. Ia mencabut jaminan terhindarnya saya dari predikat pendaki yang paling gemar tercecer. Tiga kawan mendaki lain semuanya begitu muda dan bugar. Irma adalah pelari marathon yang catatan waktunya selalu bikin saya rendah diri. Simon adalah anggota termuda yang saking berlebihnya energi yang dimiliki sempat naik ke pohon dan menyamar menjadi kera hanya untuk mengejutkan kami yang melintas kemudian. Dan Steven, ia sanggup mencapai puncak dengan enteng saat malam sebelumnya main basket gila-gilaan. Saya tahu kelompok main basketnya. Mereka gerombolan yang datang ke lapangan tidak untuk bermain basket tapi untuk saling jagal dan cari ribut. Sampai empat tahun lalu saya terkadang ikut bermain bersama mereka. Hingga sebuah malam sial saat tangan saya terkilir karena ditabrak seseorang yang lebih menyerupai truk gandeng dibandingkan manusia beradab.

Dan begitulah adanya. Tanjakan yang licin dan terus menerus beberapa kali bikin saya keteteran. Di sebuah jalur yang sempit tepat di bibir jurang, sakit di lutut kanan agak kambuh dan saya harus mengendap-endap dengan kaki gemetar. Saat itu Irma dan Steven menjaga sambil memberi semangat. Saya berjalan dengan perasaan rapuh yang dimiliki seorang dengan usia seratus tahun.

Namun ternyata, selain masalah lutut di jalanan sempit itu, kebugaran saya masih cukup untuk dapat mencapai puncak. Walau licin dan konsisten menanjak, ia bukan pendakian yang berlarut-larut tanpa ujung. Kami mencapai puncak tepat pada waktu matahari terbit. Matahari yang tertutup awan itu. Lewat tengah hari, kami sudah kembali di kaki gunung. Seperti pendakian lain, ia tetap memberi pertemanan yang hangat, seberkabut apapun medan yang dilalui. Pada tanjakan-tanjakan yang melelahkan, Irma dan Simon saling memompa semangat dengan menyanyikan lagu rakyat Prancis yang berkisah tentang sebuah penjara di Nantes. Konon putri kepala penjara jatuh cinta kepada seorang terpidana mati. Si putri lantas mencuri kunci dari ayahnya dan membebaskan sang kekasih. Di beberapa bagian lagu diperdengarkan suara-suara meraung yang aneh. Kata Simon, itu adalah lolongan yang selalu terdengar tiap tengah malam di penjara tua itu. Begitu kurang lebih.

Seperti perjalanan panjang lain, berjalan setapak demi setapak di tengah hutan juga membuatmu memikirkan hal-hal yang jarang kau pikirkan di situasi lain. Steven tiba-tiba muncul dengan ide kalau dia membuat dan menjual jilbab khusus mendaki, mungkin tak butuh waktu lama untuknya jadi saudagar. Irma, yang jelas tak berjilbab, sempat menyambut dengan berjanji akan membeli produk itu dan memakainya naik gunung. Atas nama loyalitas, begitu dia bilang. Tentu semua ini adalah pemikiran yang muncul sambil lalu dan tidak hendak dibikin serius.

Perbincangan di antara istirahat juga adalah hal yang disambut baik selain kesempatan meluruskan kaki. Saya ingat bagaimana Simon, mahasiswa pertukaran Prancis Singapura, berkeluh kesah betapa mahasiswa-mahasiswa Singapura betul-betul menghajar pantatnya. Di Prancis, dia bilang, dia mahasiswa informatika yang cukup pintar. Tapi membandingkan kemampuannya dengan mahasiswa Singapura seperti membandingkan kemampuan seorang profesor dengan anak kecil yang masih gemar menempelkan daki hidung di bawah meja. Para mahasiswa Singapura itu, juga ibu-ibu mereka yang demikian obsesif, seperti tak kenal lelah untuk membuktikan betapa bodohnya dia. Sehari sesudah pendakian, Simon akan menghadapi ujian semester. Ia mengaku tak punya harapan. Kami katakan padanya, mendaki gunung sebelum ujian mungkin bisa dipikirkan sebagai sebuah penjelasan kenapa bokongnya ditendang mahasiswa-mahasiswa Singapura itu.

Sementara itu, kawan kami Steven sedang ada di persimpangan. Sehari sebelum mendaki ia baru saja berhenti dari tempatnya bekerja. Ia belum memutuskan apa yang dia mau bikin sesudah ini. Yang ia tahu, sehari sesudah pendakian ia akan jalan-jalan ke Halmahera Utara. Entah apa yang akan dilakukan di sana, ia belum tahu persis. Ia akan putar-putar saja, begitu katanya. Steven memang jenis yang gemar berbuat seperti ini. Dulu, ia pernah luntang luntung ke pulau Buru. Di sana ia menginap di rumah seorang penduduk yang ia temui di sebuah warung nasi. Sampai suatu hari ia diusir adik si tuan rumah. Si adik ini rupanya seorang tentara, dan tindak tanduk Steven membuat pak tentara mencurigainya sebagai mata-mata dari Amerika.

Dengan bercanda kami membuat skenario hidup Steven jika ia tak kunjung menemukan pekerjaan di Indonesia. Ia akan kembali ke kampung halamannya, sebuah kota kecil di Amerika bernama Eureka, bekerja di pabrik suku cadang, menikah dengan gadis setempat bernama, katakanlah, Mary Lou, menjadi buncit dan gemar menggerutu, dan tak pernah keluar lagi sampai riwayatnya tamat. Membayangkan itu Steven cengengesan dan mengundang kami untuk sesekali mampir ke Eureka. Omong-omong tentang percintaan, di salah satu pemberhentian kami bertanya pada Steven pernahkah ia mendepak perempuan dengan kalimat paling klise yang ada di dunia perkencanan. Kau tahu, kalimat seperti ini, “It’s not you, it’s me..” Steven berbicara putar-putar sebelum tiba pada pengakuan bahwa ia pernah melakukannya.

Gunung Sumbing sedang tidak bersolek saat itu. Ia bahkan meminta kami mengendap-endap di bawah tiang jemuran. Namun, ia tetap akan dikenang sebagai pendakian yang gembira. Berjalan di hutan, hanya kau, alam, dan kawan-kawan dekat, akan tetap menciptakan kenangan manis. Dan saat puncak dicapai, kau tetap akan kegirangan, walau matahari tak sedikit pun tampak. Seperti serombongan mahasiswa yang kami lihat melompat-lompat girang saat mencapai puncak. Mereka berteriak-teriak segala tentang betapa mereka cinta Indonesia. Baiklah, kami tentu tidak seterbawa emosi seperti itu. Kami bukan jenis yang kepengin upacara dan menghormat bendera saat mencapai puncak gunung, tapi tingkat girangnya kurang lebih samalah.

Sehari sesudah pendakian kami berpisah. Simon kembali ke Singapura untuk ujian semester. Steven ke Halmahera Utara untuk urusan tak tentu arahnya. Irma juga kembali ke Singapura dan tetap segar bugar. Ia sudah omong-omong soal keinginannya ikut marathon di Bali. Sementara saya, saya kembali ke Jakarta dengan membayangkan bagaimana seminggu ke depan saya akan berjalan terpincang-pincang dan meringis setiap kali melihat tangga. Umur, kau tahu, terkadang memang bicara banyak.

Twosocks

April 22, 2015

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The Mad Ones: Lir

Ever since we started POST in August last year, we have been drawn to creative spaces and the stories behind them. Out of all the creative spaces that we have visited, Lir in Yogyakarta intrigues me the most. For one, it is difficult to pin down what Lir is exactly. I am so used to creative spaces with a singular purpose – art galleries, makerspace, hackers’ nests – that it took me a while to understand the in-between-ness of Lir. It is an art gallery, a library, a restaurant, a curiosity shop, and a space where new ideas and initiatives can come and flourish.

The in-between-ness of Lir also seeped into my conversation with Mira Asriningtyas and Dito Yuwono, the mad ones behind Lir. We talked about Lir in between warm ginger milk and honey toast during a misty walk around Kaliurang, Mira’s fried mushroom at Lir, spiced coffee at Kopi Ketjil, and over email. I hope you too have a warm cup of comfort beside you as you get to know Lir better.

Dito Yuwono and Mira Asriningtyas, the brains and hearts behind Lir

How did Lir come to be?

Mira: Lir started as a dream. I had a dream of establishing an independent bookshop and even wrote its business plan for my thesis. It was like a child for me, and like all children, Lir too had its own idea of what it wants to be and has evolved from my initial idea of it being a bookshop. Since its early days, Lir always consists of different elements – there is a library, a shop, a gallery, and a restaurant. But community and collaboration are always at the heart of Lir, so the space evolves along with the people and communities that shape it.

Although I founded Lir, Dito is also a strong influence. In its early days, Lir was known as a hub for crafters to gather and therefore has a very cute and girly image. Slowly, with the influence of Dito, Lir’s art space became more prominent. We expanded the gallery and collaborate with more artists to hold their exhibitions as well as come up with events and ideas that we would like to try out, such as our Walk the Folk and Folk Afternoon concerts. The restaurant is thriving, it regularly rotates its menu and is also the catalyst for food based events that we organize with a group called The Aunties, which consists of my sisters. The library is always there, as are corners to read and discuss. It used to bother me when people called Lir a book café, because there is so much more to Lir, but now it doesn’t matter anymore to me how visitors perceive Lir, as long as they find a space that is interesting and welcoming. So we are now enjoying being betwixt and between.

LIR’s library and reading room

Being betwixt and between seems to be what sets Lir apart from other creative spaces in Yogya. Can you share more about it?

Dito: Other than the mix of elements in Lir that Mira has shared, Lir is also located in between the geopolitical axis of Yogyakarta. The city is known to have scholars nesting in the Northern part and artists residing in the Southern end, but Lir’s location in Baciro is right in between the two. We are translating our location into our stance as an art and creative space, but also personally as an artist (Dito) and curator (Mira). This means that Lir does not cater to a specific type of artist the way that other art spaces might. Rather, we open our doors to street artists, visual artists, crafters, illustrators, toy designers, and many more. We have a mix of programs, ranging from debut exhibition for new artists to opportunities for established artists to try something outside their comfort zone. One of our signature programs is called Ex.Lab, or Exhibition Laboratory, in which we select four people from diverse backgrounds to go through a series of workshops, studio visits, and discussions that will end with their solo exhibitions. We have had art students, historians, and even a nurse participating in Ex-Lab!

Lala Bohang’s exhibition at LIR Space

How do you select collaborators for Lir?

Mira: I mentioned that Lir is like a child for us, so we are selecting our collaborators the way we would select the friends of our child. We collaborate with those who are interested in Lir because they understand its personality and what it stands for, as well as those who are willing to put up with the process that we have in place for collaborators.

Dito: We admit that the criteria for selecting collaborators are rather ambiguous, but it is one of the prerogatives of running your own space. So far it’s been snowballing, our next collaborator usually is a friend of a previous collaborator, who have in turn become our friends.

LIR Shop

Among all of the initiatives you’ve hosted in Lir, can you share some of the most memorable ones?

Dito: For me it’s our Ex.Lab, Folk Afternoon concert, and Murakabi or Mural Kampung Baciro. Several artists came together and painted murals on walls that are often vandalized around Baciro. The vandalism has stopped after the murals are in place, so it feels that we have a positive contribution to the neighbourhood around Lir.

Mira: I also love the Folk Afternoon. Other than that, I really enjoyed Mendengarkan Kaset Sore-Sore, in which a collaborator invited the public to come to Lir with their favorite cassette and play their favorite songs, and When Artists Cook, which was exactly like it sounds, a bunch of artists cooking and sharing a meal with young people.

Folk Afternoon, one of LIR's initiatives

In the Woods, one of LIR’s initiatives

Lir is one of the few art spaces we know that are independent of donor funding, be it from local foundations or foreign governments. Why do you choose to not receive any donor funding?

Mira: We enjoy the independence and freedom of decision making that comes with it. Consequently, as parents of Lir, Dito and I are supporting Lir financially. The restaurant, in which I am the recipe developer for, and the shop are a source of income for Lir. I am a freelance writer for magazines while Dito is a food critique, so we support ourselves from these jobs and dedicate extra income for Lir when needed. See, Lir really is a child for us.

LIR’s restaurant

What are your plans for Lir in 2015?

Mira: A lot. We have two editions of Ex.Lab coming up, Walk the Folk and Folk Afternoon concerts, an Independent Book Making Club, the documentation of Murakabi, publishing our new magazine called Semi, a small gathering called the (Not So) Secret Dining Club, and solo exhibitions until September. We have a program called The Observant Club, which we are very excited about, and a special exhibition to commemorate LIR’s fourth anniversary and, guess what, it is called ‘Betwixt and Between’!

Dinas Merchandise Yogyakarta, an exhibition at LIR Space

How can people get in touch with Lir?

You can just drop by and say hello at Lir: Jl.Anggrek 1 / 33 Baciro, Jogja. You can also email us at lirspace@gmail.com or tweet at @lirshop and follow @lirspace on Instagram.

*All photos, except for the cover photo, are courtesy of Mira Asriningtyas and Dito Yuwono

“The only people for me are the mad ones, the ones who are mad to live, mad to talk, mad to be saved, desirous of everything at the same time, the ones who never yawn or say a commonplace thing, but burn, burn, burn like fabulous yellow roman candles exploding like spiders across the stars and in the middle you see the blue centerlight pop and everybody goes ‘Awww’!” – Jack Kerouac. There are many kinds of madness, but our favorite is the kind where it drives someone to purse their creative passion and embrace others to join them in being mad together. The Mad Ones is our periodic column, in which we interview people who inspire us through their madness.

April 5, 2015

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Perempuan Tua yang Menanyakan Keadaan Hati Pemuda Peminum Bir

Saya bertemu Barbara Hagan di kedai kopi di dekat salah satu sisi kanal yang mengelilingi pusat kota Chiang Mai. Usianya 67 tahun, wajahnya pucat keriput, dan beberapa kali ia mengeluh pinggangnya sakit. Sudah sebulan lebih dia meninggalkan rumahnya di Selandia Baru untuk jalan-jalan sendirian keliling Asia Tenggara. Dua malam sebelumnya ia naik bus sepuluh jam dari Bangkok dan tadi pagi ia jalan-jalan ke beberapa perkampungan suku leher panjang. Capek juga, katanya. Saya bilang kalau usia saya segitu, pasti akan kepayahan juga. Saat itu saya sedang berjalan-jalan sendirian di Chiang Mai. Jika dua orang yang sama-sama berjalan sendiri bertemu, mereka cenderung bicara satu sama lain.

Dan Barbara Hagan punya kemampuan bicara yang tak terbendung.

Ia bicara terus dan berpindah dari satu pokok permasalahan ke pokok permasalahan lain tanpa saya betul-betul bisa menanggapi. Dia bercerita soal tumpangan keretanya di Vietnam yang bikin dia susah tidur. Bukan karena kursinya keras, tapi karena kakusnya bau, padahal ia duduk jauh dari pintu gerbong. Ia juga bercerita tentang pemijat-pemijat di Thailand yang tak ada harapan. Ia merasa diperlakukan seperti cucian basah yang diperas-peras, badannya sakit dan terasa lebih keriput dari seharusnya. Lalu ia lompat ke perkara pemandu wisata di Chiang Mai yang memperlakukan warga suku leher panjang dan suku-suku bukit lainnya bukan sebagai manusia, tapi sebagai tontonan belaka. Leher atau kepala mereka ditunjuk-tunjuk dari dekat dengan lagak seperti guru laboratorium biologi yang sedang mengajar. Turis diperbolehkan potrat-potret begitu saja tanpa meminta ijin atau omong-omong dulu sebelumnya.

Saya punya pengamatan yang mirip, sebetulnya. Namun, belum banyak bicara saya, cerita Barbara Hagan sudah melompat ke soal tamu lain di hostelnya yang kerjanya ribut semalaman. Pemuda di kamar sebelah itu rupanya pejalan dari Amerika yang mendadak begitu gemar akan soal-soal ketimuran macam meditasi, vegetarian, yoga, obat herbal, dan segala usaha pencarian kedamaian jiwa. Semalam ia mendengar si pemuda membual sejadi-jadinya tentang pencarian makna hidup yang sejati kepada dua turis perempuan yang mendengarkan dengan khusyuk. Tembok hostel itu tipis saja sehingga suara si pemuda terdengar keras ke dalam. Menurut Barbara Hagan, kebanyakan omongan si pemuda layak masuk kantung sampah lalu ditaruh di kamar orang yang kau benci.

“Ingin aku keluar kamar dan menyumpal mulutnya, tapi pinggangku sakit sekali, jadi kupaksakan tidur,” begitu kata Barbara Hagan.

Ia juga bercerita tentang rombongan pemuda Australia yang dikenalnya di penginapan di Bangkok. Kerja mereka mabuk dan meracau terus. Barbara Hagan sempat mengajak mereka omong-omong, tapi mereka lebih senang bicara dengan sesama mereka saja. Beberapa dari mereka sebetulnya tampan juga, dan kalau Barbara Hagan tiga puluh tahun lebih muda, mungkin ia tertarik. Namun, pemuda-pemuda itu bodoh sekali dan selalu dalam keadaan setengah teler. Tak banyak harapan. Barbara Hagan menyebut rombongan turis yang petantang-petenteng itu dengan sebutan Chang Beer, seperti merek Bir di Thailand. Kau tahu, rombongan pemuda yang berjalan bersama, dengan beberapa diantaranya bertelanjang dada, menenteng bir, tertawa besar-besar, bersikap seenaknya, dan sedang menikmati kemudaan sepuas-puasnya.

Tempat duduk kami ada di teras kedai yang menghadap trotoar. Di antara obrolan, lewatlah serombongan pemuda kaukasia seperti gambarannya tadi.

“Hei Chang Beer!” seru Barbara Hagan kepada mereka. “Apa kabar liver kalian?”

Para pemuda menoleh sebentar sambil memberikan pandangan aneh, lantas berlalu. Barbara Hagan terkekeh-kekeh saja. Dengan usianya, ia bisa berbuat seperti itu sesukanya. Saya teringat kelompok nenek-nenek nyentrik di Jepang yang mengecat rambutnya warna warni dan bisa berbuat seenaknya karena segala urusan dengan dunia sudah beres. Nenek-nenek yang minum sake banyak-banyak sambil cekikikan, menguasai segala kursi di kereta, dan akan memukulmu dengan tongkat jika kau cari gara-gara dengannya.

Saat mengetahui saya berasal dari Bali, ia bercerita bahwa di akhir tahun sembilan puluhan ia kerap jalan-jalan ke sana. Setiap kali pulang ke Selandia Baru ia membawa banyak oleh-oleh khas Bali yang dibelinya di Pasar Sukawati. Di kampung halamannya benda-benda itu ia jual dengan harga berlipat-lipat. Lumayan juga untungnya, katanya terkekeh. Sampai suatu kali petugas bea cukai Selandia Baru mencegat dan mengenakan bea masuk untuk bawaannya yang tiga koper besar. Saat itu Barbara Hagan mencoba minta pembebasan pungutan karena benda-benda itu bukan dagangan tapi oleh-oleh untuk sanak saudara. Petugas bea cukai bilang, kecuali jumlah sanak saudaramu banyak tak kira-kira atau kau mau mendandani domba-dombamu dengan kain Bali, maka ini pasti barang dagangan. Barbara Hagan terpaksa bayar bea masuk.

Walau bawel dan tidak memberi saya banyak kesempatan bicara, ada juga hal yang saya suka darinya. Ia bercerita tentang petualangan yang masih dilakukannya, hal-hal menarik yang masih terus dilihatnya, hal-hal yang kini. Ia tidak sibuk bernostalgia tentang masa lalunya. Ia bukan jenis orang tua yang senang bercerita bagaimana hal-hal lebih baik pada jamannya yang lantas melanjutkan dengan nasihat-nasihat kebijaksanaan. Barbara Hagan sudah tua dan ia tidak terlihat terjebak di kejayaan masa lalunya. Ia masih menikmati hari-harinya dengan bersemangat. Walau ia mengeluh soal kereta, pemijat, pemuda teler, dan lain-lain, ia terlihat bergembira dan masih gemar main terobos. Tidak ada jamannya atau jaman saya, jaman sekarang juga adalah jamannya. Di usia 67 tahun petualangan Barbara Hagan belum selesai dan ia masih berselancar di atasnya. Sebawel apapun dia, saya tekesan juga.

Saya teringat kerabat yang masih begitu terkurung di masa lalunya. Setiap bertemu ia akan bercerita betapa saat muda dulu kerjanya gila-gilaan terus. Cerita tentang perempuan yang dipikatnya, prestasi atletik yang diraihnya, jumlah anak buahnya di kantor, bagaimana ia ugal-ugalan, dan semacamnya. Cerita yang sama berulang-ulang terus. Walau terkadang saya senang juga mendengarkannya, tapi jika kisah yang sama diulang terus, terbit juga rasa jemu. Apalagi ia jenis yang sulit menahan nafsu untuk menggurui. Di ujung cerita selalu diselipkan nasihat dengan lagak seolah segala asam dan garam sudah ia telan bulat-bulat. Kepengin tidur saya dibuatnya.

Saat malam mulai larut Barbara Hagan beranjak. Dia bilang kagum juga pada saya yang bisa tahan mendengarnya mengoceh. Saya bilang tak banyak yang hendak saya lakukan hari itu, sebab itu mendengarkannya tidak jadi soal. Sebelum pergi ia berkata bahwa sore tadi ia sempat beli lotere. Dua hari lagi seharusnya ketahuan apa dirinya beruntung atau tidak.

“Kalau aku menang dan kita bertemu lagi, kau akan kutraktir makan. Entah mana di antara dua itu yang punya kemungkinan lebih besar.”

Tentu saja saya tak bertemu lagi dengannya. Seperti kebetulan-kebetulan lain di dunia nyata, ia jarang berulang.

Twosocks