Terimoh Kasih

This is how you say 'Thank You' In Bahasa Indonesia, and at any given time in our days here you can hear an alternating chorus of Becca and I chirping Terimaaah Kah-SEEE!!

However it was as we set out to Borobodor that I learned from Mega that 'Terimoh' means 'Accept' and 'Kasih' means 'Affection'. It occurs to me that the Indonesians have this part figured out, that thanking someone is a reminder to the giver, from the receiver, to accept affection. Gratitude is pleasant offering, but a instructive, nay an imperative to accept the love and kindness of someone on the receiving end of generosity is absolutely what I need in my life.

It was decided that I was to drive Nana's scooter to Borobodor following Mega and Rebecca on Mega's scooter. Nana had given me good instruction the previous evening but I still felt nervous enough initially to ride the brake while accelerating with the throttle...which is not so good for the machine. Becca found herself a little nervous around the traffic so she opted to drive on the way back, having not much driving experience back home. I being the nutcase that I am, am so used to weaving in and out of Fulton street traffic on my bicycle that it wasn't too much concern for me. I did find the left side of the road driving a little stiff... as (my parents will happily testify) I've always been crap at learning my left from my right to begin with.

We sped off on a road straight out of Jogja, me sticking close to Mega and Mega insisting that I push out in front... like letting a little baby bird fly. We took off down a main road that led us out of the city and straight to the temple.... a 42 KM drive and the most freeing experience ever. I zipped between cars and began to enumerate the possibilities of this new found freedom, both in Indonesia and beyond. The notion that one can just jump on one of these things learn it, ride it, and not worry about all the things that are usually associated with that kind of process is thrilling. It's a feeling of endless possibility stretching out in front of you, past chickens and trucks carrying goats, other motorcyclists, one's own lack of ambition, deeply inhibiting fears, and the artificial impediments of an overactive imagination.

I was so thrilled to be speeding along that I didn't hear Mega say we had missed the turn. Once she caught up to me I tried to cross both lanes of the road to turn around and found myself forgetting the ease of the handle throttle, almost throwing myself straight off a ledge, skidding across gravel and waking up to the limitations of certain theoretically constructed moped freedoms.

We arrived in Borobodor and climbed all seven levels of enlightenment acting out a sort of human evolution series (which can be seen on my facebook for as long as I'm willing to embarrass myself on the world wide web). We finished our climb took in the magnificence and intricacies of the Buhddist's work on the friezes that make up the walls of the temple itself. The sun and the heat had its quick effects on us and we rushed back down after a pretty quick system of walking in semi circles.

Becca hopped on Nana's scooter, apprehensive about the traffic but pretty confident about the mechanisms of how the thing functions. I was a little worried but within 2 minutes she had sped out of Mega and my sites, drunk off the same intoxicating power of a purring automatic pink scooter that I had been just two hours before (I knew I liked this girl). Mega and I conversed about books and our future lives, her potential move to Haiti... my concern about what she might find there, and insistence on her coming to the states to find me and my family if need be. We talked about the Little House on the Prairie series shes been trying to find... Basically I felt like I'd known her for ever and ever and would happily have emptied my huge green suitcase and stuffed her in if she'd have let me.

We finally caught up to a grinning Becca who in the perkiest Britishism possible told us how she'd been singing inside her helmet from glee. We pulled up to a stand to pick up some laundry Becca and I had dropped off and the rain started, a sunshower of epic proportions. I bought us a pile of fruit and we sat in the Laundromat store front and watched the traffic pass, watching the sunlight bounce off the slick pavement. I am reminded here often of what a full sensory experience a rain storm is... it often takes me back to afternoons in Virginia with my family watching my father in a set of very run down overalls sitting out in the middle of a thunderstorm. At the time I can remember being utterly confused by his actions but Asia makes me understand the urge entirely, how could you not want to touch, smell, taste, and hear something as fresh as summer rain?

Anyways enough of that bout of Poeticism, we went home piled our stuff into back packs and made a jumble of different confusing plans all of which resulted in us showering, and me spending an hour talking to home on Skype.

The next morning we were up early and off to the bus station for our trip to see Mt. Bromo at sunrise (or well almost...)