Look, to be absolutely fair, paying Rp18’000 for a not-so-good cup of macchiato is total rip off. I could’ve gotten something way better in Aceh at Rp2000 (that’s LESS that one Saudi Riyal), with some not-so-legal smokes on the side for spice instead of the stale thumbnail-sized cookie.
(Of course, going to Aceh from Jakarta would cost about Rp 2 MILLION (that’s a LOT more than 1 Saudi Riyal)– but…another story.)
Anyway, you know what, with (overpriced) things, it’s the stories around them that matters more than the thing:
- The long walk that came BEFORE getting to Bakoel Koffie on Jalan Senopati. (need a map?) I haven’t forgotten how hard it was for a girl to enjoy long, thoughtful walks without the scary cars stopping beside you, in Saudi.
- It’d just rained on that lovely Friday afternoon. The black asphalt glimmered with golden sunset rays.
- Did you get that part? It was Friday afternoon!
- The smoking room amazed me. The artist/architect had gathered antique window panels (along with its original glass) from other buildings, arranged them like a puzzle and formed two walls of the room. Just look at the pictures attached with this post! Crazy stuff, man!
- Being alone made it easier to converse with inanimate objects. I asked the windows whose houses they came from? What kind of views did it use to expose, and what kind did it elude from the outer world?
- I wrote and published “Servants”.
- I fell into a romantic journal-writing mood too. No, I can’t show you those. The juice that comes out from writing in places as gorgeous the smoking room in Bakoel Koffie are usually personal muck ending with slightly too many indecent
exhalationsexclamations. Such as: “Enak sekali.”
