Cheers!

I am not an alcoholic (at least that what I admit). The first time I tasted alcohol was in a farewell party in Phitsanulok, a small town in north Thailand. That was on my vacation trainee program. At that time it was a merely new thing to taste, and of course it didn’t feel yummy. Bitter and some spirituous taste followed by a flying feel. Drink it just to be seen as cool and adventurous.
The journey was re-started again in Balikpapan, with so many parties and hang out together which 99.9% will involved alcohol, I start to explore more and more. To my surprise that I do enjoy it, and come to the point where I drink because I taste it good and to the point when I want to drink, either I was with someone and on socializing time or alone. I just enjoy the taste. I like it. Being able to drink a cold beer in a hot day or after finish the running was great. Drink red-wine with a course of steak and salad is complete. Dancing and laughing was amazing with a tequila shot and draft beer (well, just forget about the pictures your friend took that night). Baileys on ice will be perfect combination for a session of karaoke and dancing crazily in the pajama. Margaritas and wine and some unknown drink were superb in a never-ending dancing party and finally end up being thrown in the pool. Fruity cider and wine was great after a frozen quiche finished.
I won’t call myself as an alcoholic (well, who wants to?), but I truly enjoy the taste (and also the enjoyment after it).
My favorite is beer and wine. Quite a strange combination though. My favorite is a south-african red wine I drank in a company dinner in Dubai. White wine from Bali is wonderful as well when I had it in a dinner in Balikpapan. A variety of fruity wine and cider which I bought and finish completely 1 whole bottle in a night in Paris. Bottles of tequila flavor beer in Pau. Margaritas in Hard Rock Café Mumbai, Cold Heineken in Balikpapan after a golf tournament (note: I wasn’t one of the golfer, but I volunteered for the drink after that). Stella Artois I had in a dirty hotel room in Amsterdam. Vodka with chocolate milk in Blue Gecko, a small bar in Saigon. A cold 333 beer, a Vietnamese brand before a delicious seafood dinners. Australian red wine accompanies Gunther’s cooking once a while on Sunday evenings. Draft beer in Lamaru bar in Balikpapan. Baileys on ice that tastes nothing more than cold-healthy chocolate milk. Corona in 24th floor lounge in Renaissance Hotel in KL (use company facility is not forbidden, no?). even a cold gin-tonic I had in my apartment in Balikpapan, laying in front of the TV. Kingfishers and king I had in Taj Aquada Goa, side of the swimming pool
The enjoyment of alcohol has caused me miss it a lot in here. Where the wheatear is hot and not so much functions involved alcohol. I am so longing for a good occasion for a good wine and beer. Until this evening, I did whatever I could do to open a bottle of wine without any cork opener. I use my leatherman pocketknife, my steak knife (which has cut my hand and made it bled so much), my tiny screw drive and scissor to open the cork. Until finally the cork pushed inside the bottle instead of opened out. I was so glad when finally I zipped the light brown color of liquid, which now contains also crumbles of damaged cork inside.

And, tell you, it tastes good.Lift the glass and say cheers!

Hargailah tidur

Sudah sebulan terakhir, saya mulai menemukan ritme kehidupan di lokasi baru saya ini (baca: Pekanbaru).

Cut long story short, pekerjaan saya disini mewajibkan saya untuk bertanggung jawab atas dua area sumur minyak milik client.

Jadi, terkadang, kalo ada permintaan untuk sumur-sumur di area tersebut, saya harus men-design-kan pompa sesuai dengan kebutuhan sumur itu sendiri. Itu baru permintaan design sumur, belum lagi kalau ada masalah-masalah yang dihadapi crew di lapangan saat mereka memasang atau mencabut pompa, kembali saya mendjadi point of contact-nya.

Semua hal-hal diatas tidaklah terbatasi dengan jam kantor normal yang senin - jumat jam 07:00 - 17:00, melainkan 24/7.

Cell phone harus selalu on, kalau berbunyi saat sedang enak-enaknya tidur, harus bangun dan dengen tanggap berpikir untuk mengatasi masalah di lapangan atau mengerjakan design yang diminta.

Malam kemaren saya dibangunkan oleh miss call jam 00:40 am, untuk mendesign satu sumur, dan sebelumnya, saya harus mendesign untuk sumur yang laen di sepanjang perjalanan pulang. Jadilah saya duduk di bangku belakang, sementara teman saya (dimana saya menumpang mobilnya) bertindak sebagai sopir.. betapa kurang ajarnya saya, untunglah ini atas nama pekerjaan dimana hal banyak hal bisa dimaafkan atas nama "kepentingan pekerjaan". Membuka laptop di mobil yang melaju 60km perjam, menjalankan software dan sibuk mencari pompa yang pas dengan kebutuhan. Saya, yang menulis sms di mobil saja kadang-kadang pusing, ini terpaksa berkonsentrasi dengan laptop dan kertas-kertas.. sebuah pengalaman yang lumayan mendebarkan dan membuat saya ingin muntah, literally.

Belum lagi tadi malam, jam 01:00 am ,cell saya berdering, dan yang bikin tambah dongkol, ternyata si penelepon mencari teman saya, tapi gara-gara tidak bisa dihubungi, maka saya lah yang jadi korban. Terpaksalah saya ikut sibuk menelpon teman saya itu, dan tidak diangkat-angkat. Ibarat makan buah simalakama, kalo saya tidak menelepon dia, terpaksalah saya yang harus mengerjakan design, tanpa ada data-data sama sekali, karen ini bukan area tanggung jawab saya, kalau saya menelepon teman saya, entah sampai kapan dia akan mengangkat. Akhirnya saya terpaksa membangunkan teman lain, hanya untuk menanyakan apakah teman saya yang pertama itu mempunya nomor lain yang bisa dihubungi.

Untung saja setelah beberapa panggilan kemudian, dia menjawab dengan suara baru bangun tidur dan satu tugas telah usai.

Saya kembali tidur dan lagi, jam 4 pagi, lagu "Quando, Quando" dari Michael Buble yang saya set menjadi ring tone saya berbunyi nyaring. Kali ini masalah yang berkaitan dengan sumur saya sendiri, terpaksalah saya harus mengerahkan usaha lebih untuk berkonsentrasi memikirkan solusi nya, telepon telepon datang silih berganti, dan saya bisa terlelap mendekati jam 5:30.

Itu cerita sehari-hari yang biasa terjadi, bagian yang lebih mantap yang disebut "Oncall".

Karena nature pekerjaan ini adalah 24/7 itulah, maka, saya dan teman-teman bergantian untuk stand-by selama weekend (jumat malam - senin pagi) untuk meng-cover semua kebutuhan dan permasalahan di lapangan.

Saat ini lah, yang menjadi pembuktian akan stamina kita untuk tidak tidur dalam saat atau jumlah jam yang normal. Belum lagi, kesigapan kita untuk langsung "connect" setiap kali telepon berdering dengan segala permasalahan nya yang tampaknya selalu terjadi pada saat yang tidak tepat.

Ritme hidup seperti ini lah, yang membuat saya sekarang lebih menghargai tidur, menjadi suatu luxury bagi saya untuk dapat cepat terlelap kembali sehabis berteriak-teriak meminta crew dilapangan melakukan sesuatu, menjadi berkat bagi saya, kalo bisa terus tidur dengan cukup tanpa di ganggu suara Michael Buble.

Sehingga, lagu yang sebelumnya merupakan favorit bagi saya, sekarang mendengar nadanya saja, sudah membuat keringat dingin bermunculan, dan kata-kata makian terluncur dari mulut saya "Shit!!!"

The pursuit of "what" for me?

After watching a movie, played by Will Smith. Pursuit Of Happyness (the “y” here is not a type error). It made us sad when we see this kind of movie, the kind of movie which tells us in details how people struggle with their lives, how to go through, to prove themselves before themselves and their loved ones. Even if the struggling looks small and unnoticeable and in fact in the real world, more bitter stories were a lot. But when it is put in a movie, with a touch here and there, it goes right to our heart and even can made us cried.
The story tells about a salesman, who is facing the difficulty to defend his son while at the same time prove that he can do something. This movie based on a true story. One scene which I still remember was when the actor passing broker office (this is what he will be later on in the movie) and he saw everybody smiling and laughing “ as that time was their happiest time” and at that time he narrated that happiness is not an end. It is the journey itself.
Once my sister send me an article about happiness. It said that we have to stop to wait for the happiness to come, wait until the other people will change their habit, wait until we loose 10-pounds, wait until we have a car, wait until we are getting married, get anew job. Wait until Friday evening, wait until Monday morning; wait until we passed this task, wait until spring, summer, fall, and winter. Wait until we can get an overseas assignment, wait until our eyes become prettier, wait until the freckles and pimples in our skin gone. Wait until we become less awkward. Wait until our sister is in her own feet and be a stronger person we expected her to be. Wait until the relationship with our boyfriend is a bit normal and we can’t forget how he looks because too long that we don’t see him. Wait until the world start spinning to our way. It will not and will never be, if we never realize it.

Now it depends to myself again, what pursuit do I want to run after? Whether it is a never-ending voyage? Where after all and everything, I found nothing but a-jar-of-golden-coins-under-the-rainbow story.Or another choice, that I want to stop at each step, turn around, notice everything and finally, always find something to say thank for the blessings?

It's good to be home

Another summer day
Is come and gone away
In Paris and Rome
But I wanna go home
Mmmmmmmm
Maybe surrounded by
A million people
I Still feel all alone
I just wanna go home
Oh I miss you, you know
And I’ve been keeping all the letters that I wrote to you
Each one a line or two
“I’m fine baby, how are you?”
Well I would send them but I know that it’s just not enough
My words were cold and flat
And you deserve more than that
Another aerorplane
Another sunny place
I’m lucky I know
But I wanna go home
Mmmm, I’ve got to go home
Let me go home
I’m just too far from where you are
I wanna come home
And I feel just like I’m living someone else’s life
It’s like I just stepped outside
When everything was going right
And I know just why you could not
Come along with me
But this was not your dream
But you always believe in me
Another winter day has come
And gone away
And even Paris and Rome
And I wanna go home
Let me go home
And I’m surrounded by
A million people I
Still feel alone
Oh, let go home
Oh, I miss you, you know
Let me go homeI’ve had my run
Baby, I’m doneI gotta go home
Let me go homeIt will all right
I’ll be home tonight
I’m coming back home

Home -- by Michael Buble

Home, song by Michael Buble, brings a very good essence about the feeling of home. Well, this song is specifically tells about being back to the loved one, but then again, it sound so right and sweet.
Since I was in college, I rarely went back home, partly because of my ignorance and mostly it is because just being myself, which is enjoying the current state and forget about anything else, so, even just a couple of days leaving what I normally do and live each day to went back home, will be such an effort.
That thing continues when I start working, being placed in Jakarta then Balikpapan and now in Pekanbaru, with this tense and hectic work, with this nice life and peers and the temptation to go to some place new whenever there is a chance. Then home for me is changing to a phone call once a week.
A comment from a friend made me realize that maybe I should try to spend some time with family. That and another things pushed me to plan a several days home last long weekend.
The trip to home took 1 full day, since I have to take a morning flight to Jakarta and took an evening train to my hometown.
Bringing nothing, but a local food from Pekanbaru and breadtalk for people home. The train arrives on Thursday early morning, just after midnight. The trip itself is quite comfortable and not as tiring as if I took a minicab.
My uncle picked me up in the station, a kind of queer feeling when I saw him and my aunt, the last time I saw them was ½ year ago. They look thinner than what I remembered. My thinking is never going far from worrying how much more time I can still see them again. I never realized that I do love them and actually care about them and afraid to loose them. Then keep wondering whether my choice of being apart from them, only can see them once a while is a right choice that I’ve made.
The street was empty and so cool the air was, it was so fresh, like I want to suck as much air as possible to my lung. Arrived home, I directly went to sleep.
The next day I woke up late, get a big breakfast, home cooking is always the best, well I must admit that words is true. Went to get my driving license done. Then after lunch, went to see my sister in my other auntie’s home. Didn’t stay long there, just drop some cookies, and get some other food in returnJ. Back home, finish the food and went to sleep again. I woke up a bit late in the evening, felt lazy to do anything and again eating. Around midnight I went to pick up my cousin with my uncle to the station. Again the fresh night air was so lovely and freshen me. The town as I notice is still the same as the last time I saw it. A bit more crowded, but everything is what I still recognize. The dark alleys, smell of the night air and wet grass, dim street lights, food stalls open late at night at several spots. Empty streets, shadow of trees, and wet pavements. How those are so familiar to me. As this very moment that I always see when I hear the word “home”. The quiet ride in the old car, conversation of some principle things, what something supposes to be something, to be done someway. The late chat in the veranda, talking about some trivial, joking about the things that are familiar to everybody. Little gossip about this and that, teasing each others. Forgetting a moment about the work, bury down inside personal problems. All is to laugh, all is to talk, all is to share. Forget the pain and the harsh time. Time to talk nonsense and laugh at each other comment. Even a no-comment and no words are already something, that the companion and being able to see face-to-face is something. Waiting for you to come back home from an old friend encounter. Open the door for you when you knock. Offer some food incase you haven’t eaten yet. Ask about how’s the time you had with the friends. This what I called home. With people who I know that everybody will be comfortable, even if there is no words to speak. People that don’t make you being pushed to find a word to start a conversation. People when “hello” and “how are you” is no longer necessary. People who you kept thinking “how if this is the last chance to meet them”. People who’s cooking, when you taste, you will feel something different and indescribable that you can’t even find in a 5-stars hotel food. People who make you feel guilty to yourself, when it is too long you’re being away. People, who never ever say that they love you, but how you love to see them smile and react to your words. People who will set you off and said take a good care. People who always tell you to be careful at work, even tough they don’t understand at all about how you work. People who make you feel empty in the chest when you sit in the airport or station. People who push you to bring with you a full card box of food, incase you miss your old-favorite food there. People who force you to bring the jacket or sweater if inside the car it will be cold. People who ask you to send a short message or call whenever you have arrived, to know that you are safe. Although, after a while, being stuck in the daily routine and work. Being a single, with only yourself and friends. A completely different routine far-far away. Then you start to forget the home-feeling. But it will come and go, never ever fade away. It will be disappear for a moment, but it will come back and remind you again.

The place where you don't struggle to find the place to put the toothbrush. The place where everything seems familiar for you, be a bit older than the last time you saw. The place where you have your favorite spots or chair. The place where you have the same old grumble, of why the old TV is still here or why the lamp is never working.

This is what I call home, that although not often that I remember about it, once a while it will call me back.