life is your stage

You can dance if you like
You can sing every line of every song
No, you don't have to steal the show
It was your show all along
As the orchestra plays
The people take the seats
There's no room left in this house
It's only you and me
And if life is your stage
I'll be watching

Hold up a light for me
Hold up a light for me

And I'll be watching you
Everything that you do

As we start, rehearsing every scene
The words to everything
We realize that the crowd is listening
And then the tears, fall down on your face
In exactly the right place
As the people start to stand up in the aisles

You can hear the sound of violins
On every street tonight
You can see all lovers dancing around
I'll be watching

Chorus
Hold up a light for me
Hold up a light for me

And I'll be watching you

All things you see
End up where they should be
All the things you see
End up where they should be

Hold up a light for me
Hold up a light for me

And I'll be watching you.
everyone is listening
and life is your stage

(performed by take that)

you were all yellow

that was all yellow...

love it when it rains in djakarta

rainy season is coming and i always like the idea of seeing a pouring rain on streets, where streetlights starting to shine, muttering the shadows that emerge from the scene. this is djakarta that i know from time to time. rain is full of happiness coming down from the silvery skies.

beyond finnish forests and lakes, there is...

a place where something is about to come true...

an offshore fortress

the ferry was packed with people, and i cherished the ticket i got early this morning at the market square. my new friends were delighted, their smiles were bright as the sunshine above, while the morning summer heat was surely too convincing to have a fair weather for the rest of the day.

this time was suomelinna, they called it a fortress, a world heritage for the world, a place for getting a substantially tanned skin for the finns. getting to the other side of the gulf only took less than 15 minutes. the ferry ran slow, there was no need for hurry, like all the finns, time stood still in the north. we took a stroll around the shore, and took pictures of us wearing the nice white hat i got from the lowlands. they were amused by the impression it creates of wearing it.

suomelinna, i had it with clear blue sky. wild flowers colored my vision of the grass, and rocky cliff isolated one's dream from the reality. this place should have a lot of historical explanation, but the summer impeded all desire to delve into it. the brightness of the day only wanted a superficial encounter, it was not time to get too serious.

suomi gulf

first weekend in suomi land. the class i attend is a very interesting ones. the subject pleases my appetite, and most of all it offers me new things to learn about.

helsinki itself is a tranquil place in the north, filled with abundance of spaces and rooms spreading all over the city, which is in contrast to its sparse population. having myself squeezed in one of the most dense country for some time, i am surprised to find such a lot of space in this town. This can be seen from the design of the buildings which is mostly made in larger scale. compared to other old cities in europe, helsinki asks people to enlarge their comfort zone as broad as they want to. this contributes to the timid character of the finnish people, not to mention their-winter-morning-eye-glimpses.

but most importantly, i am glad my first weekend was not a waste. bright summer day supplemented with a stroll along the gulf, from katajanokka to the market square, and beyond its last frontier which brings me to the park and restaurants. those places were packed with good dresses and the smell of good times.

katajanokka

my lodge was arranged in katajanokka. the first glimpse of this area was the russian-style orthodox church that stood in the mouth of entrance to katajanokka. like other streets in helsinki, which was far less crowded, the roads were resembled to empty canal that dried out of water, no meaningful currents. when the first time i took the tram to this place, i was not expecting to find out that tram could possibly the core driving force of living vein of katajanokka. residents live in the four-storey buildings, designed with finnish touch. pedestrians mostly people who enjoyed jogging in the neighborhood every afternoon, or the travelers who stayed at the big lodge where i stayed.

katajanokka has a direct access to market square and to city centre within walking distance. and for that, the old russian church was sort of a gate in marking where was katajanokka and where was the other part of helsinki. if you happened to walk across the park closed to the church, you should keep yourself aware because an old lady might jump out of the marshy grass and asked for some coins. in fact, city planning of the city positioned some clusters of residents which eventually constructed the whole helsinki. katajanokka, one of them, which was located nearby the heart of the city and being one of the oldest clusters in town. that was why old buildings dominated the area and perpetuated the early 20 century atmosphere. there was a red-brick "kino", or cinema where i thought the building should have been more that just a movie theater. something surreal brought by the wind from baltic sea stayed there, intruded into the layers of those red bricks. perhaps memories of fishermen, or estonian trader harbored in helsinki somewhere in time.

tervetuola

the first day in suomi land was full of sunshine. last night i was greeted by a mix of tranquility in my surrounding. i took a shuttle bus from vantaa airport to helsinki, and bought my bus ticket on the bus-fresh from the driver's hand. his english was eloquently spoken but his expression said something more than just saying: welcome, you, foreigner.

encountering suomi land gave me new impression which was quite different from other european lands. the night was still young and left a slight purple and red above, a kind of nostalgic picture.

arrival in the bus station, the time was almost midnight. people talking in finnish were crossing the streets and running slowly to the big buildings around the square. i carried my luggage and tried to follow the direction from the information paper i printed from the internet. i was about to catch a tram.

few minutes passed on, the metal vehicle approached the place where i stood. it moved towards me that it got me a feeling of being alienated, i thought i should have known the form of this mean of transportation, but i was questioning myself whether i would find it familiar or completely strange and awkward. the summer night in helsinki was getting darker and i still felt unsettled with all these encounterings.

the lodge was nice, i could not ask for more, it has everything one could ask for a traveling. clean sheet and blanket has been placed neatly and for that it made my sleep last night more sound.

going north

sitting in this huge waiting room, i indulge myself with the scenery of blue sky and bright sunshine. what a lovely afternoon, planes come and go, with bustling sound across the runaway. inside, i am only with my travel backpack, and a thought about the place i will visit soon. i have only few information about the country and the city, all i know it is very beautiful in winter. cold and full of serenity. some people say cold is another kind of beauty anyway. there is still some time before boarding time, and i feel a certain unfamiliar feeling attached into the reality surround me. because some where in the seabed of my mind, there are vivid pictures of the hectic days behind me. it has been like an organized mess, full of hopping on and off from one platform to the other, from one cup of koffie verkeerd to another tea, from one companion of sunshine and late summer rain, from one old acquaintance to another instant exchange. there are so many random happening lately, and i hope this northward journey will help me to slow things down a while, so i can really feel where is where, what is what. i hope it will be an inspiring one, fiuhh...

moving out

these days, there are alot of things occupied my mind. moving to one city to another, and getting to know that there are some things that have been restored somewhere around the old and hidden places and never been used properly. it is not easy to pack the unpack things, especially when you realize how much you have attached yourself into the place. indeed, home is the first universe.

there are boxes to fill, papers to tear and stuff to be cleaned. looking at the amount of the things that have been accumulated in my place, i can recall all the dreams and plans i had in my mind when i decided to collect these things, or to keep it in here. now that i have to move out, there is optimism in the air, yet in the same time, i feel ironic to know that to certain point, human can not meet all the boundaries of time space. these things i restored, some remain untouched, the one which once was picked with full of inspiration. it looks different now, since i have to put it aside since my space and time have been occupied with the following things or plans. as i clean the place, i have myself uprooted from the closeness and familiarity which i have been embedded all these times.

there is no short cut

how many times people always try to say that there is no shortcut in learning process. that people should possess an inextricably endurance throughout the journey, because gaining knowledge is never been an easy task on humanity. a friend of mine had just enforced me to focus on the positive side of the journey instead of dragging the never ending 'why question' in my mind. it would only put myself to give weight on the negative side and lose determination to bring the best from the given condition. well...as a sophomore who is standing almost in the end of this institutionalized-studious journey, my immortality has caused me to consciously figuring out what should i have done to make things better. and better. despite of the effort i've been pouring down, i should regard the present result as the beginning of the coming long journey ahead. it is not a period mark which ends a sentence. yet, it is put as a period to mark the begin of new sentences. and for that, i'm grateful.

indeed, there is always things need to be reconciled. regardless of what ever it is, the present time does not require an immediate understanding and better comprehension. time is all i need.

inner holland part 2

the second glimpse of inner holland would the city village of wageningen. the reason why i dubbed it as a city village was primarily based on my personal impression of the city, and i did not mean to disregard the city integrity. on a bright evening, i arrived at the central station, a cool breeze of hinterland wind, the city called my name. the summer was getting older and trees were so thick in green, some yellow sparkling, a remembrance of a home coming sun. the strong breeze had moved leaves to dance lively, each tree made their own melody, and all of them along the street were reciting poems. i could not stop staring at them along the journey from train station to my destination. their voice was friendly and relaxing, asking myself for resting awhile after such a laborious days. a labor for the inlanders.

i spent the first night in the city by giving myself a proper rest. fortunately, the place where i stay was equipped with big windows that give a liberating view to the open sky. what a lovely mid summer evening i had, where i can see a clear night sky above there with the smiles of the angels, de sterren.

inner holland part 1

for some reasons, i have to spend a couple of days in the northeast of holland. it was a good opportunity for me to get some insights about this country. i have lived in big cities of eastern holland, and for that i get familiar with strong wind from the north sea or the multi-cultural atmosphere where people from foreign countries walking down the street and speaking with their own mother tongue. but in this part of the lowlands, everything feels more preserved, a bit of conservative taste is floating in the air.

from where i come from, the name of deventer is historically related to a figure whose played an important role in the colonial period of far east indisch. but during my stay in this city, i could not manage myself to see the statue of van deventer. first i think i was because this historical fact did not in my list, and secondly i think it was also because my visit did not have anything to do with history lesson. i think these two are basically the same. after all, i only wanted to get myself a short escape for a while, after months of exhaustive academic writing process.

the city looks more like a medieval entity left to the modern time. like i've mentioned before, big cities in the east coast have the cosmopolitan soul, they are like the symbol of the modern time, the representation of the early industrial centuries. but having myself being in deventer, i feel like everything looks older than the legacy of the modern time. maybe because there was small stoned castle in the city. it stands slightly in 75 degree, the remaining witness of old centuries.

step by step closer

step by step closer to the final, the summit of all these steps i've travelled throughout the path. all the effort that i have endured throughout the bad and good times, it shall finally reach a point. where all hills should lead to valley, where cloudy days should be cast away with warm shiny days. the more i get closer to the peak, the more i feel that i'm conditioned to stay focus. and today, i reached the-long-and-winding-summit by clicking the 'send' button on my computer, with subject addrressed to my supervisor and the book of source called, ephorus.

so long my boat of words, the product of my self contemplation to this untidy subject on international poltics among nations. i wish you a very nice journey and pray that you will be treated well in the eyes of the judges. before i pull off this anchor that bound you with my personal scholarly realm, let us hand in hand pray that your journey will be carried by all the kindness that weather and the ocean can bring you. let us whisper our hope that the wind will be warm and sky will be clear. and for all the conversation we had throughout the changing seasons will be up there in the sparks of the stars. let them carry us to the homeward wind, to the almighty we sail our pray.

soothing sound of...

early in the morning, it's been raining since last night. i whispered to myself:
"woke to the sound of soothing rain..."

a quick wandering

i've been spending hours after hours sitting in the wooden chair with all my body and soul pondering to the screen, the ocean of words. trying to structure the substance and make it ordinary to the eyes of the commons, and not a foreigner to the mind of the scholars. after having myself decided to listen to my utter conscious that longing for a short escape, i went down to the road and got me and maxwell a ride. the weather was not very bright, but it was still lovely, i must say. it was like having a december in the summer-to quote from a friend's status this morning-indeed, it has been like early autumn instead of bright summer. the sky was covered with bunch of clouds, sometimes light showers pouring down and let the wind breezes its soft whisper through my window. there is always nice to have a look on the weather.

the day was still long and it gave sometime to go for short biking trip, just to strecth my legs and fresh my exhausted mind. i thought this might be the chance to get to know the city i've been living for quite sometime. indeed the quick wandering went well, so thoughtful and yet liberating in the same time. the trip brought me to the beach, to the long sandy shore by the kurhaus. as i got off my bike, and let myself strolling down along the shore, a mixed sound of music welcomed me. some peopel gathered in one of the cafes, having early dinner with nice beat of classic disco. their conversation was like rattling and humming, i was not in the mood to pay attention to words, so better left them like a mumbling sound of bees. i liked it anyway.

looking at the wide north sea before my eyes, it made me realize it has been awhile since the last time i went to the beach. and today everything was just right, the place was not crowded, and not too quite. it was fun to walk along the shore alone. that moment all you can do just walk, and walk, and walk... during that time, some interesting things might get by and make you want to stop and look for awhile. it could make you think of something, some place, some people. it also could inspire you to do something, to want something, to feel something. basically, you always can have kinds of impression from anything around. and for that, i amused myself by taking some pictures of sand castle people made every summer, or a flock of seagulls that having a sunbathing under the afternoon sun. my favorite one was the picture of the sun itself. it's kind of remind me to the beatle's song...lucy in the sky of diamond. i wonder where is lucy and what is the diamond.

apparently, the quick wandering has pumped up some energy for me. on the way back home, i met a friend and had myself a little walk with her. she cheered me up and told me to take everythig easily. what a nice epilogue for the day.

tunes of the unexpected

i have been amazed by the tunes of the unexpected played by a local radio station lately. few nights in a row, the tunes come like a long lost friend and rejuvenate my repository mind to recollect pieces of time that unfashionably spread across my inner universe and bring them all again to the surface...

after the rain

after the rain, the air feels clearer now. some people say raindrops in spring save a wonderful summer. and recently there has been unscheduled showers come to the lowlands randomly. hopefully this is a promise of bright summer. falling leaves scattered on the canal seem have been carried away by the down pourings last week. the bicycle path along northend garden gives no resistant voice to bike's wheel, provides the rider with a deafening silence under the shades of green. the crowd of bikers are not always in massive flow, sometimes there are few of them, but during the weekend there could be a group of youngsters or family biking in constant biking along the road. the bell are rung to ask for a passage permission. today the road is empty. there is only falling brownies leaves floating in the air, while blue sky above is covered with thick green of summer plants. how i cherish the atmosphere after the rain. it is just pure.

xomer apeture

a hazy afternoon in iona's backyard. the day was quite windy and it made trees pouring down leaves as if it was an early autumn already. it shouldnt yet to arrive, there is one season to celebrate for those leaves. on the way cycling to iona's backyard, i was passing a canal nearby the northend garden. my eyes were amazed by the reflection on the water, a clear vision of the upside wolrd in downside reverse. brown leaves littering the water ground and all stood still in dignity. the summer is resounding its coming, and the river calls the clouds for rains, and the trees hold the greens not too be shaked by gusty north winds. reflection of the upside world on the water, made an afternoon in iona's backyard silently overwhelmed. a xomer apeture for letting the envoy of coming season come to town.

feels like a crawling snail

it is not easy to keep myself intact these days. i try to have good music as the loyal company for my enduring time of thinking, but it just distracts my intention to some imagined world out there. i try to find a window seat in the train, change the room without changing the essence of scholarly contemplation. indeed, some people next to me add the noise to my surrounding, and it confuses me whether to feel disturbed or entertained. everything is basically here now, i just need to stay focus and the skill of a good tailor, for sewing these materials into a decent readable work. i feel like a crawling snail. fiuh...

a day for an orange

april has a bunch of festivites in the air. after a long day of biking and flower addicted imagination, the orange day is the edge of the month, quite an overwhelmed closure in the lowlands. actually, it is not about the fruit, but i guess the idea probably comes from the fruit. a landlord once ruled in southern france then moved northward and conquered a flat land in the tip of north sea. by then, the landlord established his own empire which has lasted for several hundred years. a day for an orange is dedicated to commemorate the birth of the previous queen, the landlord's decendant. since then, everybody celebrates the day. whether it is because the love to the queen that makes people hold parties everywhere, or because people want to enjoy the long holiday, i cant never be assured to explain why the lowlands turn to be self-proclaimed orange in this one single day. all in all, confusion does not always lead to asking question. better not this time, and enjoy the orange.

een prettige dag van de bloemencorso

the last week of april would be the weekend for flower parade. i guess, this annual event usually takes place to officially mark the presence of spring. the parade will depart from noordwijk for the final destination at haarlem. and for this year, some friends have set the plan for another biking trip to catch the parade on road nearby lisse, on its way to haarlem. the lunch boxes have been packed and nicely put in our backpacks, along with cameras and bottles of water. i have managed myself to get a nice hat which can keep my face on shade of the immense sunlight. what a spring bystander i am.

after biking around twenty minutes, we arrived at the crossroad of lisse, a point where we wanted to enjoy the parade. apparently, we were not the only spectators, there were already alot of people parked their cars and set their picnic mat or flipped chairs to get the best view of those flowers in cars. it was quite crowded but people still managed to line up along the road in a good order. soon the police would block the road and not even bikers can pass the road. so it was a precise attempt to get there early.

almost like in the cinderella fairytale, the parade started to resonate its coming right in the middle of the day. obviously the parade was accopanied by a bunch of marching band groups. i can hear the sound of cymbal, drums or trumpet played. one by one the car decorated with colorful flowers moving slowly in front of us. some companies used the event to advertise their business as well. and for this reason, i found the decorator was very creative to turn a boring truck or van into a charming vehicle with extended roof of purple lavender or vivid window in lilies curtain. aside from that, the parade also displayed this year's theme which was everything about books. thus, each car carried a special theme translated from a popular book, for instance asterix and obelix, or around the world in eighty days. my favorite one was the asterix and obelix. the fact that they also made idefix, the dog and the big stone which always carried by obelix made the display was fascinating.

the parade only took around one and a half hour. the day was still young as the sun shines longer now. i would feel myself a pitty if i rode my bike and went home. that would be a waste to pass such a day pass without enjoying the season. so, i decided to bike further, as some of my friends wanted to go home. fortunately, a friend had the same intention to extend the biking trip a bit further, just to know the surrounding. so we were biking for another hours, and i was content to find another flower fields around lisse. of course, it makes me even more overwhelmed because i can take pictures of them with my camera and my visual memory, here.

on nationalism

it is the subject which is quite abstract for one to give the precise definition. of course it is always attached to the notion of state or nationhood. but this becomes more problematic when an individual finds hard to choose what nation he is really attached to. in this case, it is easier to use sensitive issues to trigger the real sense of nationalism. for me, the awareness of being a particular person under a certain national flag immerse when people bluntly 'baptized' my ethnicity just because my physical appearance. do not judge a book by its cover. i unconsciously refuse that label and strive to convince them my indigenous root. this happened on lunch time today. i was busy with task as a student should have been dipped themselves before class, and a guy just asking direction with me in other language instead of the internationally recognized english. i was surprised to consider on what basis he can conclude that i speak the language he used. i bet my reflection on this real world just resembles to the notion of particular ethnic group in this world. fortunately, because of some reason, i can speak the language that he used to ask me. but with all my respect, my ability to speak this language not because of kinship obligatory reason, but it was purely a genuine reason for the sake of life conquest. after all, that was not the first time i have been unilaterally dubbed as member of particular ethnic. and for that, i found my self helpless to prove this misperception on every acquaintance with strangers. for this reason, my nationalism should endure the untold truth.

the fanfare friday

today is a special day for those who are the big fan of doing sport. please pay attention to the italic word, because i'm not referring to those who are expert in commenting and analyzing score or strategies in sport matches. in this case, this afternoon is the big fanfare for people who are fond of jongging. the singel loop, a six kilometers of marathon and it goes around the five 'singel' in leiden. one of the main ruoute is wittesingel, a tranquil passage of canal that runs in front of the university's main library. some of my friends take part and im glad i can get some pictures of them. since leiden is a small city, the six kilometers does not take long time for those self-trained athletes to reach the finish line. but there is no winner and loser, because everybody apparently gets a medal. a souvenir for participating in this so-leiden activity. once you get the medal and you are officially baptized as the true citizen of this city. yay!

a little note on early afternoon

an early afternoon spent by the small lake of buitenhof. summer is coming but spring still on its way to the fullest. trees are in hazy green, with little hopes on the edge of barren branches. waiting the world to have them on its course. i took a little notice of the passing tram from the hedge of maroon tulips. the red strips were just perfectly fit to add a small peculiarity of the day.

starlight

everyone is celebrating passendag in the lowlands. times for painted eggs, from the real ones to those symbolic identity. but my passenvakantie is quite tranquil, as silence as the starlight across the canal. while others prefer to have a weekend getaway somewhere around the continent, i choose witte singel for hours of typing and trying to catch up the implied meanings of concepts. i aint fancy holiday for another short trip. some friends are coming from the south and east, and we rather have a big dinner for fourteen people with peking ducks served on the table. the red napkins and small cups decorate the whole session and we are content for this gathering. saturday night at leiden, my day is completely full by having these starlights across the canal. their sparks enlighten the dark corners in its surrounding, while their reflections on water make the night has been more crowded than ever.

when the book is open

when the book is open, you can start to read the story. a journey, surely needs a map. but it still can work out fine with a help of virtual guidance, lets called it instinct. as the weather forecast defines today will be mostly sunny, a trip along the lowlands should be a good idea for weekend. from a bike shop in the central station, the bikes are rent with a promise to the owner that they should be returned before midnight. when the wheels have been rolled for a constant speed of sunday trip, there has been a lot to be seen along the journey. the story for the day has started. trees along the small roads and highways are starting to be dyed in green. some of them are even in lovely pink and vibrant yellow. or maybe the sun has made them to look differently. the weather is being so hospitable to facilitate such journey. as the page of the book is open one by one, the scene leads the trip from a small lake by the old city to the sandy beach of the lowlands. the lake is painted in silver shadow of the noon's cloud, and there is a fishing boat far in the middle. the tranquility of the journey is uninterrupted. some small friends of flowers look above to the shoes of those who are carrying the bikes over the green field. with such a good manner, they ask not to step on the grass, because their friends still strive for growing tall and embracing the summer. word of apology is whispered, followed with careful glance on grass. someone is trying to get closer to the nature. as the journey goes on, another page brings the trip to field of colorful bloemen. the fields are vast, another continent in the continent. they have their own territory, like a square of sovereignty with rows and lines under the cloudless skies. each country mostly has a majority of ethnic groups without an exception to some minorities to be distinctive. rules and law are established, that is the reason why they look perfectly in order. like another part of the international community, these fairy states also might encounter invasion from foreign forces. and for that it is the authority for the peacekeeping forces to warn the illegality of such occupation. fortunately the international police is rigorously responsible of its duty. he is barking and sending vicious glances to those who carelessly step on these sovereignities for the sake of timely souvenirs, or in other words, pictures. in this case, those who like to take mementos of these highly condensed yellow, purple or orange, should be able to follow the manner in their territorial space. this is how things apply in the family of nations. the book continues to put the sequence into play. the day is still longer as if the daylight is forever. the journey is heading to the beach. it is amazing to notice how the northsea has such a strong characteristic. it can present itself very well to those in the lands, even though there is miles to go to reach the shore. strong and cold wind are whispering in midst of young afternoon. almost in a silent rhyme, it is like touching the air to define its abtract definition. one can just follow where the sea breeze is really coming from, in order to identify the place where the ocean meets the land. almost afternoon, and the day is starting to dress in soft yet vivid golden. after taking rest for sometime, the road is still long on the way back to where the home of these bikes. the exploration of roads keeps going. in tranquility. the bikes wander across the lands, in precise speed and absorbed mind. words are here and there. some complete the story trhough articulation. while some transform themselves into another kind. like holding a cup of ice tea to explain the state of exhaustion and starvation. or ringing a bell for testing one's awareness of other's presentable skill. the bicycle pad is like the narrative of the whole scene. it makes all the elements umbilically tied for such a well grounded reality.

thick and thin

these days spring has marked its presence in the lowlands. while the days get longer, the nights now are so timid that they refrain themselves from the sun. the room for colors is now being open. there are enormous lights and range of colors as you can see from the canal to the central station. bare branches of tress have their small green lights, a promise of the coming season. when you open your window every morning, fresh air penetrates through the thinned glass window, and so swiftly to wake your sleepy eyes. lets not talk about the plenty flowers throughout the grassland in this land. there are abundant sunlight for them to consume. this changing season looks so vivid with the thick and thin it has painted in my surrounding. sometimes the reflection of buildings on the water looks sober when clouds coming and hindering the bright yellow light. while for another moment, everything can be inexorably illuminated than its shadow appears so thick...as if it were really there. built on the surface of a small stream in town.

a light shower of thursday

an old man's shadow appeared on every stone blocks that construct one side of the hall of the knight. tonight, the shadow moved as his body walked slowly into the binnenhof, a square in silence. above all, the scenery was just dimmed in light shower of thursday. soon he was left behind and the cobbled stone road made sounds of whispers. they were reciting the past where people from different generations have walked on it, on behalf of many purposes. the city was tranquil in spring. no overwhelmed warmth. moving toward passage, soon the intersection of noordeinde would be there. bare trees still shone with silver lights left from the winter and a pizza restaurant looked populous, inhabited by the dining-outs who tried to make the best of thursday shopping night. there was the intersection. people standing on both side of the roads, waiting for the tram. their clothes, shoes and hairstyle were immersed in the shadow of light rainy day. the air was clear yet the small pieces of rain can put a slight of obscurity in one's vision. hm...the wind was so refreshing. and manequins in lights were watching those who belonged to the outside. turn right and the street would lead to the long and enchanting alley. both sides of the street always have something entertaining. moved..keep moving, closer to the destination. i felt wet penetrated from my face. and my trouser too. i thought i need to increase the pace, otherwise the rain would conquer me. the book store was still open but my time was not conditioned for that. and the small cafe closed its door, hindering the warmth to go outside and greeted this biking person.

with or without tomatoes

i find cooking is another way to contemplate with the world. once you step in the kitchen, and open the fridge and grab fresh vegetables from it. the conversation with yourself has just started. your mind are fulled with words, some of them are very well structure, but not for the most of them. this scattered letters or scenes stay afloat, that is why you need to digest the very core intention you want to convey. just wash the tomatoes please...and put them on the plate. you start to sort out the certain unsettled words one by one as your mind figures out the order of tonight's dinner. time goes by and silently classifies the random into simple sentences or concepts. it seems you have managed to take control again. it is not the world that dominates you, but it is you now that construct this universe. i can see this contemplating process is quite fruitful. the stirred dish is garnished with yellow sweet corn and a bit greenish from the onion leaves. so colorful and hopefully healthy. i just realized this time i did not put sliced tomatoes. no wonder it is less red yet tastes more solid. with or without tomatoes, the construction of the world today remains intact with my personal purpose. the words have been organized now, the floating letters reside to where they used to be. i guess my need of tomatoes has transformed into something else. it has developed beyond my ordinary sense of humanity. it soothes me.

what makes spring beautiful

the ice cream shop has opened now, where it was previously a shop selling socks and ladies stuffs. there is an ice cream stall in front of the noordeinde palace now. i precisely remember it started to open since the first day of march. and the tiny purple friends are opening their eyes and embracing the world. they are surrounding the old tree nearby the central station. spring is coming, tacitly shy but never loses its immerse.

tapestry

fijne vrouwendag, s'Gravenhage 2009

sail away

witte singel was really, really dimmed into serenity. only the sound from the saddle, produced from metal rails run the two wheels vehicle. the world encountered me from the vision my eyes catched and the scene my brain interpreted. my skin sent the message of comfortable air that sensed from my cheek. and the nose breathed the morning in neutrality, a balance between sweet and sour. like a void floating in unamity. and there, outside the bordeline of myself and the universe, i entered the serenity of witte singel. bathed in silver shadow of the sober sunlight, green yard and the surface of the canal stood hand in hand facing the wooden bridge over there. ducks and boat were catching glimpses of greetings, in their own languanges. though each were foreign to another, understanding seemed easier if we managed to contextualize it. no chaos of translation. the vehicle stopped as my foot touched the ground. i wanted to enjoy how the boat leaves its trace on the surface of the canal. the boat kept sailing away, and left small ebbs and tides which eventually reached the green shore. where the duck were there in their friendly traits. sail away boat, find yourself the circle route of canals in this city. until it brings you back to witte singel, to make another ebbs and tides under the bridge.

somethingsremainunsettled

a news anchor pointed to the map on the screen and showed the prediction of air movement on the next day. appeared on the screen a gradual bold blue above certain places while dots of sun also scattered on some other places across the continents. he begun the forecast by saying somethings remain unsettled. like the weather, everything indeed is constantly moving. however, my personal achievement today also confirmed that things need to be refined, reexamine, reconsider, reformulate, revisited. very much unsettled. thanks to the weather forecast, somehow i feel not so alone on this stage. unsettled means it keeps moving, searching for the very right in time and condition to settle. i just need a strong argument and clarification.

vogels

a particular impression i got few days ago seems to open itself for an explanation. i wonder whether march is the month for the seagulls to fly back to the beach from their temporary exile on the last season. and now, it is time to back home, to taste the freshness of salty air and, of course, fresh fish. my assumption is not an academic one, but it was drawn from a simple wall post in the city library where i can conclude this. moreoever, a flock of seagulls flying above the palace recently and the ice cream shop in the centrum has opened since yesterday. neither seagulls nor the ice cream shop has said it clearly, but they represent the coming spring.

marching into the spring

first day of march. the weather gets warmer these days. it makes the snowy winter nights have flown away, like history written ages ago. after the month for marching is coming, the promise of blossom and revelry dreams. i hear the sound of seagulls today, they flew and made quite a noise chirping. the scene was so much resemble to sandy beach where endless sound of tides emerge and re-emerge in constant atttempts. soon there will be eternal sunshine on the beach, where the dusk and dawn stand close to each other. oh dear nature, this changing seasons have touched my heart so dearly.

as early as it gets

most people prefer to wake late on saturday morning. but this is not for people who likes to have a comfy morning walk at noordeinde. while the gray sky remained, waiting relentlessly for getting ripe and pouring down the rain, the long passage had gradually been packed with pedestrian. glimpses to art works at the galleries, and short conversation about old books or morning talks with hot coffee served with a view. from a distance, music were playing from the old wooden vehicle, a very much authentic attribute for weekend in the lowlands. i always can find a muse for this mixture of sounds and figures around noordeinde. it seems everything that makes a perfect beginning to that day were there. as my steps approaching the book store in the passage, an old lady wearing blue coat and a hat stepped out of the book store and walking right in front of me. her coat was so blue that it took me to the memory of beautiful stones that i used to read in my childhood story books. saphire, hidden in an old oak tree. how wonderful to know the fact that getting up early every saturday morning would always bring the chance of having such encounters with the world.

note on friday

i don't do too much dreaming these days. these days...

i've been out walking. i don't do too much talking these days. these days..

(quote from a song written by glenn campbell. dedicated to the suzerain state on the western tip of europe, where gray sky lingers like an endless love song)

fiuhh..

i dream of alcazar

i dream of alcazar tonight. though days in seville have blown in the wind, like the floating snowflakes. these days dreams appear so vivid. as if they were here to stay, like a poem written on tree. i see the tangerines linger in yellow, reaching out to the blue sky above. alcazar, i wish the night of tales will be there before i go to bed. i wish the sparks of its torches embrace my dream in boundless territory, places to soar and return home again. in modest garden with fairies of spring. alcazar, i wish the wuthering heights and stormy nights will be sober, as you open the pages and start ravelling me into your spell.

unagi, the monster

rotterdam. the wooden plate looked shiny as if it has been regularly polished. there was one left, covered with seeweed on the top and tanned delicious piece, waiting to be picked up. every body tried to delay the action, wished time would slow down and gave disgestion done whatever it can be done at the moment. and unagi was still there, unpercipitated gazing. the clock was tickling, dinner time was approaching. we can see it from the purple sky outside the big glass window. the drought of ice tea had severed, even miso, the soup, could not quench the thirst. no where to escape, except conquering the monster. the last one left unaccompanied, torn between desire and pessimistic vision of self-fulfillment. at last, finally someone ate the monster. safe the table into a relieved exhale.

let's call it a day

time is certainly immeasurable. it is not easy to count how much your life has progressed within a minute, an hour or a day. if you take a handful of sand and try to grasp it concretely, the more effort you make, the easier for you to let it one by one pouring down loosely from the palm of your hand. just like a day comes in the morning untill late night. it becomes part of your life in an invisible way. not by the tickling of a clock in the belltower, but by realizing how it has made a change in one day of your life.

love of a bike

this is not to celebrate the v-day, but i rather think how the bike is really feeling now? they dress him up so fashionable that they disregard the real function of the bike. sure, i would love to have my bike looks pretty, but i also want to ride it. the bike has been standing there for days. one night i saw some people put him there and decorated him with all those pink ribbons. maybe they did it for commemoration. since then i always see him standing there by the canal. when the sun is bright, he looks fancy in soft blushing red. if the day prefers to let the rain comes in the afternoon, its catchy existence makes the gray sky looks lighter.

iberia

that's all my friend, january for iberia. i really enjoyed this exhaustive yet awesome journey. i realize that this peninsula is a very diverse place, but compare to this universe, this is only a small spot on earth. from the west coast of cabo da roca, i know that the secret of men's greatest discovery was made in the name of god. and to the east shore of barcelona, there was i met gaudi who captured the essence of universe. while down to the south, the legacy of two civilizatons filled up the atmosphere and written on the street. yet, the faces of southern spaniards can tell thousand of words. in the hinterland of ronda, their faces told you that once people from the opposite shore of the mediterranean sea were here and built their sanctuary. as now i can feel how melancholy life beneath the mountainous land, so i cherish the sound of guitar played and the silver peak of sierra nevada.

as this morning i stepped into the lowlands, the bitter winter remained beautiful in bright sunny sky. school will start soon, and this sophomore will delve into the abstract scholarly world. the icy morning was heated by the warm hot chocolate, the temperate elixir for cold. moreover, i cant wait to see my friends, as we will have chinese dinner tonight in our most favorite chinese restaurant. adios, iberia!

anselma

indeed, there is always something unexpected on every journey. be it nasty weather that has to keep you inside from exploring new places, or little information about the whereabout of the true local haven. on the last night in andalucia, of course before flying back to the reality of life in the lowlands, i had the chance to experience the real musical tradition of the southern spaniards. it was in anselma. the local bar that performs flamenco. the star was not a young beautiful woman, but a lady in such a 'developed' age that took the floor and stirred the atmosphere. there were no people talking in english, except us. and the wall were covered with old photographs and posters that portrayed the life of the city.

like a cinderella in the fairytale, everything turned life on twelve o'clock sharply. empty chairs suddenly occupied and drinks flew from the bar to the wooden little table. a man started to play the guitar while his companion hit the wooden box where he was seating on. clapping hands made sounds in pattern and he started to sing. after that, time passed by from hour to hour. and every time the song ended, "ole!" people shouted lively. the lady was special. she sung like she was telling us a story. i noticed people replied her with pieces of sentences, which she followed to sing those words. sometimes when the guitar was played in low volume, she talked with audience and even commented to their appearance or how they behave. they all looked so familiar to each other. maybe it was because they speak the same languange. or it was probably because they often spent nights together in anselma. for me, that was the last night in andalucia, the land where washington irving described in melancholy sweet tradition of singing. indeed, his story enforced my experience. i saw the andalucian were sensitive and delicate. they are fond of expressing their emotion through music. the songs they sing are reflecting the way they feel this world.

sevilla in monday

there were nothing much to do in monday. my andalucia trip was almost over, and i felt extremely exhausted these days. after the rainy sunday, luckily monday was wonderful. the sky was blue and the day was warm. since alcazar was closed on monday, so the big agenda for today was only visiting the cathedral in the centre of the city. they said this was one of the biggest cathedral in europe. meanwhile, my main intention to visit this cathedral was because i wanted to see the tomb of christopher colombus which was inside the building. since he was the big man in the world history, his tomb was located inside of the cathedral as to appreciate his journey to discover the new world in the name of god. that was my guess.

aside the tomb, the tower of the cathedral was also quite fascinating. you need to walk all the way to the top, because there were no stairs. in fact, the small alley was extraordinary. it was like a flat floor which circling to the tower. therefore, it took extra effort to the top, not only time consuming but also energy consuming. however, once you get to the top, the effort was worthwhile. the whole sevilla was stretched before your eyes. and if you spend quite awhile, the bells might surprise you as they ring every hour regularly. from the four corner of the tower, you can see different face of sevilla. one side shows the main square which ends up to the alcazar. while the other side shows the bullfighting ring in the distance. from the top, you can even conclude that most of the buildings down there were painted in white. lovely isn't?

mezquita

sunday morning, rain is falling. it seemed that where ever i go, the rain always follows me. today, the rain accompanied my pilgrimage to the historical mosque in moslem history, the mosque of cordoba.

the easiest way to cordoba from sevilla was by bus, which runs with unfriendly schedule especially on sunday. however, i always believe there is something valuable on every journey i embark. like a treasure, it takes extra effort to unveil the real value of every acquaintance. as it was in cordoba. arrived in cordoba was already in midday, and the vibrant of the city reverberted the lonely rainy sunday. with less visitors in the bus station, and there were only locals busy with their daily commute. the light rain that keep pouring down on earth of andalucia made the scene even more isolated. it was like stranded in the upland and lost in translation. and the only thing you can do was keep on walking the trip as you have planned before. there was no turning point, meanwhile your distance increased farther. my own salavation was the thought of the mezquita. my fountain to quench my thirst in this journey. i hope the excitement would be equally paid off, with what ever i migth absorb during this trip.

the mezquita was open to visitor at 2pm in sunday. from the outer landscape, the mosque was built in earthly color of brown. despite the history predominantly told us about the magnificent of mosque in cordoba, it is now a cathedral. following to the declining of moslem rule in iberia peninsula, it latter being transformed as a chuch. i tried to find the mihrab, the place where the leader of prayer stands facing mecca in islam ritual. i didnt find it. the only thing that remained was a floating idea, that once there was a great mosque here.

beneath the green steppe of andalucia

departing from malaga that morning, it was fair weather, unlike yesterday. this was the second weekend outside the lowlands, and it felt like million years already. i have travelled far from north down to the south and traversed sovereign lands, rivers and castles. the insight has gradually amounted as my traveling days longer. it has been awhile aways from the mundane schedule a sophomore should have, and the liberating feeling has moderate now. i still try to keep myself sober from the depletion of changing lodges and short-term encounter with new surroundings. i wonder how many unfinished glimpses and thoughts i have absorbed and slowly ignored as my journey continued. those unwritten observation has mounted in my mind, they grew thicker waiting to be written down. once again, i tried to stay sober so as my journey will be a modest one, neither excessively unpredictable nor extremely rigid. just put everything in their precise proportion accordingly.

aside from those domestic order discussion, today's next destination was supposed to be the last one before flying back to the lowlands from madrid. we wanted to catch the bus at eleven in the morning, and we arrived at the platform just few minutes after the driver closed the door and slowly departed. we were staring to the driver with questioning look whether he would stop the bus and let us in. in fact, he did. i guess this was a privilege one can enjoy in country except the strict lowlands.

from the coastline of malaga, we traversed westward to the innerland. during the first hour, the bus crossed the mountanious roads surrounded by rocky hills with small creeks flow beneath. while another hour, we witnessed the landscape of the land has changed into flat green steppe. a geographich mark for where people can build cities on it. apparently sevilla was one of it. this was the old kingdom resided its soveriegnty, a place where the kingdom's rules and law were issued by king and his courts. beneath the green steppe of andalucia.

plaza de toros de ronda

this is where the first bull fighting was officially recognized by the spanish kingdom. although bull fighting only takes place on summer, but the bull ring is open for visitor throughout the year. in the museum, there were alot of stories about famous matador, the bull fighter. they also displayed all the nitty gritty of bull fighting traditions. from posters, pink socks and the embroidered robe called mantilla. it seemed that bull fighting is kind of respectful sport for the royals as to illustrate the heroic spirit of the true spaniards.

nevertheless, ronda was not merely famous for its bull fighting tradition. the characteristic of this city was also special because it was built upon two hedge of gorges. the tall and green stone cliff on each side becomes the foundation of this old city. moreover, the journey to ronda from malaga has added special impression on my trip that day. the weather was not very friendly. waves of mediterranean sea were in chaos and severe winds brought up rain in the coastline, while in the highlands its absence has pulled down the foggy air closer to the earth surface. when the bus was still driving along the coastline, i felt like in the middle of battle because the high tide in the ocean looked like angry soldiers with their spears and swords. but when the bus reached the hill, i felt like walking in a dream, because everything looked so unreal when covered with thin layered of white clouds around. this two contradictions both have alienated me in the middle of nowhere. furthermore, when i finally arrived in ronda, the city in a way has reinforced this fairyland state of mind. by looking at the old gorges that built this city, it was feel like visiting a fairy town, a timeless place with untouchable reality an immortal can reserve.