The Dusty Sneakers

February 22, 2010

620 Stairs of Mount Galunggung

Arip Syaman Sholeh pingsan saat mendaki gunung Galunggung!

Gawat sekali!

Tenang, kisah tentang kawan saya ini tentulah konyol dan bodoh. Jangan membayangkan sebuah ekspedisi pendakian yang menegangkan. Gunung yang terakhir kali meletus tahun 1982 ini sama sekali bukan gunung dengan medan yang berat. Untuk mendaki melihat kawahnya kita cukup menaiki 620 anak tangga. Yap, anak tangga saja! Jadi pergilah ke Gunung Galunggung, 17 km dari Tasikmalaya melewati jalan-jalan desa kecil, naiki 620 buah anak tangganya dan nikmati pemandangan kawah yang sungguh indah.

The 620 stairs, walk it up!

Lalu, kenapa Arip Syaman Sholeh pingsan saat menaikinya?

Karena dia, well, Arip. Bagi yang mengenalnya, itu sudah cukup menjelaskan. Hal-hal ganjil selalu terjadi padanya. Tapi baiklah, kawan saya yang baik hati ini, ia sangat membenci tangga. Menaiki tangga akan membuatnya terengah-engah, sesak napas, dan yah, pingsan. Dulu dalam sebuah perjalanan di Bangkok, ia memutuskan untuk tidak ikut berjalan karena musti melewati jembatan penyeberangan. Jembatan penyeberangan!! Jadi di gunung Galunggung ini, saat saya, Ginting, dan Sinta begitu riang menaiki tangga dan melihat pemandangan, arip tertinggal di belakang. Saat Sabilla, fariz, dan keponakan-keponakan Sinta yang lain yang juga diajak dalam perjalanan ini begitu ceria, Arip tersengal-sengal di bawah. Sabilla dan Fariz bahkan beberapa kali sempat naik turun tangga memberi semangat pada Arip.

The Crater of Galunggung

Setelah 620 anak tangga dinaiki, terhamparlah pemandangan kawah yang menakjubkan. Inilah hebatnya puncak gunung, ia akan mempesona semua orang yang mencapainya. Mulai dari pendaki gunung kawakan sampai yang amatiran macam kami ini. Mulai dari gunung terberat sampai sekedar gunung Galunggung yang dinaiki dengan tangga. Di sinipun ada beberapa kursi kayu tempat kita duduk melihat kawah. Untuk saya, rasanya sunyi dan tenang sekali.

The Bahrlfeldts Family

Bring the kids to the nature!

Tapi di sinilah tragedi si Arip dimulai. Setelah puas duduk di kursi kayu melihat kawah, saya, Ginting, Sinta, dan keponakan-keponakan Sinta yang selalu kegirangan itu memutuskan berjalan menuju tempat yang sedikit lebih tinggi. Sebelum berjalan kami sempat melihat Arip yang akhirnya berhasil menaiki tangga ke 620 lalu ngejogrok di sebuah kursi kayu. Kami semua berpikir Arip cuma lelah jadi kami terus berjalan ke atas meninggalkannya di sana. Ternyata si Arip pingsan. Napasnya habis jadi tak sanggup berteriak memanggil-manggil. Demi Tuhan, ini cuma naik tangga dan Arip, yang walaupun mukanya boros, ia bahkan belum 30 tahun! Kami semua berpikir Arip cuma pemalas dan memutuskan untuk tidur-tiduran saja di sana. Menjelang senja saat kami kembali ke sana, ia tampak duduk dan memasang muka penuh dendam. Mulailah si Arip memaki-maki. Menyuruh kami mati saja dan sejenisnya. Rupanya setelah pingsan, ia sempat dibantu oleh beberapa pemuda yang juga naik ke sana. Ia diberi air dan pelan-pelan mulai segar lagi. Setelah puas memaki-maki, kami semua kembali tertawa-tawa. Arip diam-diam senang karena punya bahan untuk memaki-maki kami dalam waktu yang panjang. Ginting pun seperti biasa menyelamatkan diri dan mulai meyakinkan Arip bahwa ini semua salah saya. Dan Arip, seperti biasa termakan hasutan Ginting, jadi ia masih sebal pada saya sampai hari mulai gelap. Sungguh orang-orang yang ganjil.

Malam itu kami turun menuju desa Cisayong di kaki gunung Galunggung. Kami akan ditampung menginap di rumah Bi Iyoh. Rumah ini adalah rumah masa kecil ibunya Sinta dan Bi Iyoh ini dulu yang mengasuhnya. Jadi di sanalah kami, tidur berjajar-jajar di sebuah rumah kecil di pinggir sawah dan kandang bebek. Seperti biasa, kami mengenang hari itu sebagai sebuah perjalanan yang menyenangkan. Malam itu Cisayong agak berhujan, dan kami tidur lelap bersama suara hujan dan kodok-kodok.

Oh ya, saya belum menampilkan foto eksklusif si tokoh utama Arip Syaman Sholeh! Ini dia. Sedang melakukan pemanasan sebelum naik tangga. Sungguh pemuda yang malang, ia tidak tahu nasibnya beberapa menit kemudian.

One poor soul

Keep walking guys!

February 2010, Twosocks

February 9, 2010

comments 8

A Night at the Zuid Brussels Train Station

Dear fellow travelers, especially my tropical comrades, let this tale be a warning for us all.

It was 10.30 in the evening after Christmas when five cheery tropical people stepped out of the express train that brought them from Den Haag to Brussels: a boy whose navigation skills is no match to any other (to be called ‘The Human GPS’ onwards), a girl whose looks embodies the quintessential mean girl (‘The Mean Girl’), a girl whose eyes are catlike and adores her bangs (‘The Kittybangbang’), a boy whose name is not unlike his nickname (‘The Octopus’), and a girl whose toes are of the gypsy kind (Gypsytoes, of course).

Our spirits were high. Ten exciting days of venturing across wintry Europe were spread ahead of us. Bratislava! Vienna! Prague! Woo-hoo! Yippieyay! Hip hip hurray! We only had to catch the shuttle bus to the Charleroi airport, spend the night there, and off we would fly to Bratislava at 8 in the morning. Spending the night at the airport, you ask? No biggie! We’ve done that before; we could just find a Burger King or something and sleep or talk the night away. Easy peasy!

The cheerful tropical travelers upon arrival at the Tin-Tin embellished Zuid Brussels train station

One small problem though. We couldn’t find the bus.

The Human GPS guided us across the Zuid Brussels train station, in and out, but to no avail. The Mean Girl, who is also an excellent linguist, succeeded in deciphering the notice board and signs, but could not locate where the bus was. Finally, the Octopus found an information counter and we scuttled there, eager for directions. Instead, we had the shocks of our life.

Shock #1: the last bus had left four hours ago.

Shock #2: the first bus would be at 4 in the morning.

Shock #3: the train station would be closed from 2 AM to 4 AM.

“Calm down everyone, not to worry. We won’t be late, we’re not in a hurry,” the Octopus said.

“But where do we sleep, where do we stay? When the station’s closed, we will go astray,” Kittybangbang cried.

“We will not let the trip go sour. We’ll solve the issue in an hour,” Gypsytoes declared.

Octopus and Gypsytoes ventured out and about to find a 24 hour café or fast food joint, only to receive laughter and scoffs for their naivete, for nothing of that sort exists in Zuid Brussels. The Mean Girl and The Human GPS explored for restaurants within the station, only to find that they were all closed.

So the only option was to stay within the station, hoping that we wouldn’t be kicked out by the guards. Kittybangbang found a nice spot, rows of red metal benches not too far from the vending machine and close enough to know when the gate opens and the bus arrives. That should be fine for six hours of sleeping or talking the night away or even studying, which Gypsytoes, The Mean Girl, and The Human GPS tried to do at one point. Gypsytoes even got the hang of modernity and dependency theory!

Problem solved? Not quite.

Shock#4, and the biggest one of the night: there was no heater in the station.

I repeat, NO HEATERS IN THE STATION! In winter!

It was -2 degrees outside and the cold air crept in to our spot from the open train tracks above. Soon enough we found that sitting on the metal chair was impossible. Despite of the thermals and coats, our buttocks were freezing! Kittybangbang, being the crafty girl she is, picked up free magazines and spread it over the metal chairs. But not too long after, the chill became greater and Gypsytoes had to retrieve into her backpack and took out a pair of ski socks, an extra sweater, a pair of leather gloves, a pair of ski gloves, an extra pair of leggings, a scarf – and wear all of them on top of her tank top, turtlenecks, thermal underwear, and winter leggings. The Octopus opened his suitcase and retrieved a huge blanket, which everyone shared to cover their knees. The Mean Girl decided to jog around the station to keep icicles from forming in her hair. The Human GPS could not take the cold, so he braced himself and took a ride in the super pungent-pee smelling-elevator, the only warm site in the whole station.

The cheerful tropical travelers' optimistic start of the night

But ultimately, we could only squeeze together with our teeth chattering and our lips muttering.

The night stretches on...

“Never before in my life I appreciate, the convenience that fried rice hawkers can create,” mumbled the Octopus.

“If we were in Gambir I’d be really glad, at least the elevators don’t smell as bad,” the Human GPS spoke.

“I should empathize more with the homeless in retrospect. For them I now have a newfound respect,” said The Mean Girl.

... and on...

.... and on!

The time stretched perpetually, we could feel the chill seeping into our bones as we were wrapped in melancholy and discovered life altering revelations. Just when we felt like it would stretch to infinity, 4 AM came and the station gates were opened. The night was finally over!

My dear fellow travelers, we survived to tell the tale. We had fun in Bratislava, were amazed by Vienna, and completely fell under the spell of Prague (the tales of which will surely follow). But let this be a warning to all, never again shall the night be repeated!

Den Haag, 8 February 2010

Gypsytoes – of a cold, cold night in December 2009

December 17, 2009

comments 14

Desa Sawarna: What makes a road trip worth every mile

Jumat siang lalu Arip Syaman berkata bahwa dia tidak bisa ikut ke Sawarna karena pekerjaannya yang sedang menumpuk. ”But you gave me your word man..” kata saya pura-pura kesal. Beberapa saat Jakarta hening.

” F*ck it!! Kita pergi malam ini!” Arip Syaman, putra pertama bapak Haji Jaeni, lantas memutuskan.

Desa Sawarna terletak di kabupaten Lebak, Banten, 7 jam dari Jakarta. Kami berangkat menjelang tengah malam melalui jalur Pandeglang-Malingping-Bayah terus sampai Sawarna. Saya, Arip, Sinta Satriana, Enda Ginting dan Anggi Pinontoan, pacar si Arip . Kombinasi road trip yang klasik. Open road, good music, and good friends. Tapi dengan kombinasi teman perjalanan macam Arip dan Ginting, tema pembicaraan kami tentu jadi sangat “berbobot”. Bahkan tag line trip inipun sangat menakjubkan: “Let’s rock out! With our cock out!” Sinta yang malang, she was so corrupted.

Malingping: Sunrise and Open Road

Pagi hari kami sampai di desa Sawarna dan ditampung menginap di rumah mantan lurah Sarwana, almarhum pak Hudaya. Ibu Hudaya punya beberapa kamar yang biasa ditumpangi para traveller. Jika kalian pergi ke Sarwana, bertanyalah pada sembarang orang, semua pasti tahu di mana rumah Pak Hudaya. Setelah sarapan di saung bu Hudaya, kami berjalan kaki menuju tujuan pertama: Goa Lalay. Ditemani oleh kang Ikki, penduduk desa sawarna, kami berjalan melewati jalan-jalan pedesaan, sungai, dan hamparan sawah menuju goa Lalay. Goa sedalam sekitar 700m ini memiliki stalaktit yang bagus sekali. Untuk memasukinya kami melewati sungai bawah tanah dengan lumpur sedalam +/- 15 cm di bagian bawahnya . Walaupun cukup licin, medannya bisa dibilang tidak berat. Di bagian dalam goa tinggal gerombolan kelelawar. Seru sekali, kami beberapa kali dikencingi oleh kelelawar-kelelawar ini.

Goa Lalay: Entering the Muddy Passage

Batcave

Perjalanan dilanjutkan ke pantai Ciantir yang sepi dan berpasir putih. Pantai ini, terutama di sekitar bulan Juni, adalah salah satu tujuan para surfer. Dan sore itu, pantai Ciantir akan menjadi tempat homecoming surfing buat Enda Ginting. Setelah pulang ke Jakarta dengan gelar masternya, kesempatan untuk surfing membuat Ginting girang bukan main. Tentu saya tidak harus menceritakan tentang keahliah surfing kawan saya ini. Tidak banyak kemajuanlah dari catatan saya sebelumnya 😉 Tapi ada satu highlight dari perjalanan kaki kami ke Ciantir, pertemuan dengan seekor anjing kampung yang saya beri nama Arnold. Begitu bertemu kami langsung akrab dengannya. Dengan setia Arnold mengintil kemana-mana sepanjang sore itu. Saking setianya, kami percaya bahwa si Arnold ini adalah guardian angel kiriman emak si Ginting untuk mejaga kami di pantai ini.

Ciantir Beach: Homecoming Surfing!

Arnold the dog, our guardian angel

Tujuan berikutnya adalah Pantai Tanjung Layar. Menjelang senja kami berjalan menyusuri garis pantai Ciantir menuju ke timur. Setelah melewati beberapa bagian pantai yang berbatu, tampak dua batu karang raksasa sekitar 300m lepas garis pantai. Inilah ciri khas pantai Tanjung layar kebanggaan masyarakat Sawarna. Pemandangan mengagumkan yang cukup untuk membungkam Arip yang ngomel-ngomel karena harus berjalan kaki lagi setelah dari pantai Ciantir. Saya, Sinta dan Ginting langsung memutuskan berenang menuju dua batu itu.

Two big rocks of Tanjung Layar

Tapi bagian terbaik Pantai Tanjung Layar ada di balik dua batu karang itu. Di sana ada hamparan batu pipih yang luas sekali sehingga kita bisa berjalan ke tengah laut dengan air yang hanya semata kaki. Sungguh sangat cantik. Diujungnya ada bentangan tembok batu karang yang menyerupai benteng. Tembok karang ini menahan gelombang laut dari baliknya. Kita berdiri di sana melihat ombak-ombak besar yang datang. Setiap kali ada ombak besar yang datang, kami akan menunduk berlindung di balik ‘benteng’ itu membiarkan hempasan ombaknya melewati kepala. Kami pun bekhayal bahwa kami memang sedang berlindung dari serangan kompeni atau semacamnya. We all have this little kid inside us, don’t we?

Menjelang gelap kami memutuskan kembali ke desa. Arnold yang setia, ia masih terus menemani kami sampai di tempat awal kami menemuinya. Ajaib sekali si Arnold ini. Benar-benar dia ini macam guardian angel kiriman emak si Ginting. Di tempat kami akan berpisah dengan Arnold, Ginting berkata: “Nah Arnold, tugasmu sudah selesai. Sekarang kau tak lebih dari sekedar makanan bagi kami”

Ginting gila.

Dan malam itu kami tidur nyenyak sekali.

Ada satu lagi yang musti dilakukan sebelum kalian meninggalkan Sawarna. Pergilah ke pantai Laguna Pari untuk melihat matahari terbit. Pagi-pagi sekali sebelum jam 5 kami sudah bangun dan mulai berjalan (kecuali Arip dan Anggi yang memutuskan untuk tetap ngorok). Kami berjalan kaki kurang lebih 40 menit melewati hutan kecil dan sawah-sawah. Menyenangkan sekali berjalan kaki di pagi hari melewati sawah-sawah saat langit mulai kemerahan. Apalagi malam sebelumnya Sawarna diguyur hujan. Bau tanah jadi sangat segar.

A walk to the sunrise

One quiet morning in Laguna Pari

Pantai yang sepi di pagi hari sungguh menyenangkan untuk sekedar melamun. Melihat perahu-perahu di kejauhan yang tampak sebagai siluet. Tapi karena di sana sedang ada Ginting dan Sinta, tentunya kami juga melakukan hal-hal yang menakjubkan. Misalnya menanam Sinta dengan gundukan pasir dan kemudian karena Sinta tidak bisa bergerak dalam posisi tengkurap, Ginting pun mulai pipis di gundukan pasirnya. 😀 Hahaha bodoh sekali anak itu. Hal-hal macam itulah. Ini akan menjadi bahan ejekan dari Ginting ke Sinta untuk waktu yang lama. Kami terus bermain-main di sana sampai hari mulai panas.

Menjelang siang, kami berpamitan dengan ibu Hudaya dan kang Ikki untuk kemudian meninggalkan desa Sawarna kembali ke Jakarta. Another seven hours drive. Tapi dengan kawan-kawan perjalanan yang bodoh macam ini, setiap mil perjalanan jadi sangat menyenangkan. Senja hari saat Jakarta mulai memerah, kami akhirnya sampai.

Until the next trip guys!

December 2009, Twosocks

November 9, 2009

comments 6

A Graveyard Morning

It was a rainy and grey autumn morning when we stepped on the cobbled path of the Cimetiere du Pere Lachaise, the most renowned cemetery in Paris and perhaps also around the world. As we whipped out our umbrellas and traced the 48-hectare area, ebony-feathered crows perched on top of the majestic gravestones and a slice of mist created a translucent veil between us, the living, and the dead. It felt like we have just entered the realm of Nobody Owens, of Neil Gaiman’s The Graveyard Book, and that anytime a ghost might float and greet us from one of the tombs.

The surreal atmosphere and the magnificent sights were exciting at first, but as we walked further up the hilly trail the thrill slowly evaporated. The statues of weeping women and the chill brought by the breeze quickly turned the mood somber, for I had just realized that this is a place of mourning.

I even felt subdued when we arrived at Jim Morrison’s grave, supposedly the magnet of the cemetery and was fenced to ward off frenzied fans who often felt the urge to throw themselves to the headstone and wail their hearts out. Suddenly I felt uncomfortable for wearing a bright red trench coat; its cheerful tone seemed to violate the solemn atmosphere.

Jim Morrison

Our path then led us to what I later learned as Pere Lachaise’s most notable quirk, Victor Noir’s resting place after being killed in a combat. Noir was journalist, but it isn’t because of his living days he became famous. His tomb is noted for paying very close attention to the details of his corpse, including (or should I say especially?) his partly aroused state. Parisian women have taken the habit of rubbing his genitalia for fertility and it must have worked to a certain degree, since the said member is now discolored from all the rubbing!

Victor Noir

Noir’s eccentricity brought a smile to my face, which bloomed even wider as we stumbled across Oscar Wilde’s crypt. It was not the grandest of tombs, in fact I think the modern angel relief looked strange and out of place in the gothic surroundings, but it was definitely the most loved. All four sides were sprinkled with lipstick kisses and heartfelt scribbles of joy and gratitude for Wilde’s work. I contemplated for a while whether or not to grace Wilde’s final resting place with my lips, but then decided against it because a) I don’t even own a lipstick and b) I was afraid of getting cooties.

Oscar Wilde

While I was busy with the inner battle of to kiss or not to kiss, I noticed that other visitors also had their own inner conversations. Unlike the shutter aficionados at Jim Morrison’s, Wilde’s companions were calmer and seemed to come with a purpose. Most of them, I observed, were gay and lesbian couples that held hands as they laid flowers or silently communicating with the departed author, who was himself a passionate same-sex lover.

That was when another insight struck me. Pere Lachaise, and other cemeteries, is not only about mourning loved ones. It is also about a celebration of lives, lives of people who continue to touch others’ even long after their passing. With this thought, I walked away with a spring in my steps, for my red dash finally became appropriate.