Thursday, as I sit myself on a hard, plastic chair, and began to write, I remembered my friend told me that there is a possibility that the department I belong to is unsafe - there is possibility to be closed. The issue about this department, for which I have studied for almost three years, which is on the verge of being closed, is exaggerating. In fact I didn't really understand why it has to be closed, but the reason mainly due to hard accreditation.
I didn’t surprise, however. This department, although it has did its best to assure its students to learn and to live, allow their students to work off from what this department taught. I recalled when I was on my walk on a shady plafond; some of my friends gave me news about the alumnus. They were work as an administration boys or girls, some as salesmen or salesgirls, others continued their study, and the rest remained unknown. I didn’t know for sure, and I didn’t have any chance to proof it. In fact, it was a matter of believe or not.
One thing that I got from the conversation was that it was really hard to get a suitable job for us in Indonesia. We often heard that Mr. Santoso, an agricultural expert, has made his living by selling porridge, or Mr. Iwan, an architect who worked as a journalist. There are more Santoso or Iwan if you are willing to count – honestly you will not want to count them. I began to think that getting a suitable job now days is as hard as finding a needle in a stack of straw. More and more company coming, more and more people born and raised, yet more and more unemployed occur and people has no chance to live: they work what they were not willing to.
I stranded here, in this room – a medium campus dormitory cabin consists of four students, which two of its guests had already missing somewhere. Sunlight went through the windows just beside my seat, as I kept thinking about why should people born to be something, or rather, why some things big in people’s mind are fixed to be the same thing at all: businessman, merchants, company worker, or else? I would rather see the life of local people farming rather than watching how businessmen work.
Aside from that, I felt abandoned if this issue was true, but then what? Our friends and I were fated to get stuck into this department. If the reason to close this department was because the jobs gained by its alumnus really didn’t match with the department, then it all should goes the same for agricultural department in IPB, or forestry or Russian Literature department in UNPAD, or archaeology department in UI, or else. To be honest, I can think about that later. I feel that the best thing to do right now is to focus on what I want to be, and what I want to achieve. Even if later it is closed, I will regret no single thing, as this department is what bounded me and my friend for so long, thus enable me to do many things: went to a library, cruelled by lecturer, place hope, place worry, and place fate, and even write this piece of damn literature. Sometimes I feel no future for me, but isn’t tomorrow is still a mystery? Why should I sad or angry or worry about every things? I just need to do my best to survive.
I looked out of the window. The sunlight touched my eyes, and I began wondering what my life would be. Is it hard? Or is it full of happiness? I don’t know. I looked everything around me - chairs, beds, floors - and I thought that I should do something else rather than wrote all the time.
Thursday, January 27, 2011
Wednesday, January 26, 2011
Only Us at the Beach
It was a long time ago that I had know Pameungpeuk: a district belongs to Garut Region, West Java, that is well known for its beaches. And it was a place that I long admired. I had never got any chance to go there but this holiday. So that was it. My friends and I went there, December 26, 2010.
We took off from Cicaheum bus and minivan station, Bandung, and after six hours of hilly road trip inside a mini-bus, we landed Pameungpeuk. If by any chance I could bail out the bus in the middle of the trip, I would, since the trip took us across the topside of a mountain, that there were several other mountains visible from inside the bus: a pink SSPJ mini-bus, with the sign of Mr. Smile painted at the outside. Covered by thin white mist, the mountains stood left and right and stretched from near to far and then faded at the far distance. There were plants below the mountain, planted by local farmers, spread blocks by blocks below the mountains through far distance, and faded. The trip itself was hard and scary, though. The road was always curving left and right, up and down, passing buildings and plantings, and it was broken in some places. We would end up at the bottom of the canyon if anything bad happened. Fortunately, it didn’t.
We stayed with Rizki, a friend of ours who offered his house as a free bungalow for three days. His house was located in Cikelet, a sub-district of Pameungpeuk. It was there, in Cikelet that the bus made stop, not far from the Chief’s house, revealing that the stop was not an official bus stop. Cikelet was a sub-district which road is still resembled the old days: stone and dirt. Some houses were separated by plants and trees. There was a river passed by, and the houses were built lined along its current. So there were we, at Rizky’s house, spent the night quickly hoping to catch the sunrise at the beach.
The next day, we went to the beach when the sun had arisen, means that we were late to catch the sunrise. There were several beaches in Pameungpeuk district: Gunung Geder (Means Mount Geder), Santolo, and Sayang Heulang (Means Eagle’s Nest). Rizky took us a walk to Gunung Geder beach, while I sometimes took the pictures of the silent main road, the plants on our left and right, the rice fields, the sky, and my friends. The road was good at the moment: it was thin in wide, covered with asphalt, and on some spot you could see a banner or two.
After half an hour walk, we arrived on the beach. There were white sands lined up to the sea in Gunung Geder beach. I took several pictures, when I realized a unique thing: there was no one but us at the beach. There were no lifeguards, no boats or fishers, no restaurant, nothing. There were only us and the white sands lined up to the sea, with trees and grass about 50 metres away from sea lines.
“I feel like if this is our private beach,” a friend of mine, Rusdian, said while getting ready to play in the wave. He put off his T-shirt, and so does Jefry and Fahmi, my companions. I didn’t put my shirt off, I don’t get used to it. I’d rather wear it and get it wet.
hat morning, all of us played in the wave but Rizky. “I don’t bring any reserve clothes,” that was what he said when I asked him why he didn’t join. He watched out for us from the far distance, and sometimes warned us not to go too far to the sea. Southern Java Seas was well known for its deadly waves. By the new year of 2011, two tourists were swept away by the waves of Santolo beach-one missing, one found dead.
Sometimes I took pictures. This empty beach has many spot which would be good to be photographed. The waving sea, the white sand, and the clouds, there were all in the right order to be a nice picture. The wind breezed at a constant speed, and a bit strong. Sometimes my friends played with the sands, too. They wrote their names in the sands or built a sandcastle, despite their age.
I noticed that there were tiny holes in the sands.
“Those were nests of keyeup laut,” said Rizky while pointed out at one keyeup laut who made its appearance. Keyeup laut is Sundanese for tiny sea crabs (Keyeup=tiny crab, laut=sea). The crabs were only about 7cm in length, with less than 3cm in tall. They made their appearance on that morning, running across the sand and past the wind which begin to breeze strongly. Those who played in the waves also found sea snails.
Rizky showed us-who were wet and uncomfortable because of the sea water that stick into our bodies-a place for us to clean ourselves. It was the pond. There was a pond just a hundred away from the sea line. Amazing, I could say.
“It’s basically the stream of the river that went into the sea,” Rizky said pointing me the pond. It seems that the stream became a pond due to the land contour. As I walked myself down the pond, I could feel the water streaming into the sea. The water on the pond was warm, but the stream was cold. The differences could be recognized as I walked myself deeper.
The beach has nothing else to be explored. For those who wanted to have a meal, they can do it at the gazebos which stood far from the sea line. From there people could still see the beach. It was funny to think that there were no restaurants or vendors in Gunung Geder, or outskirt of it, as the beach offered people a good place to pass the time. Among every beach that I had visited, this one is the quietest beach. It’s probably because the place hasn’t been built that made it quiet. Also, the ticket was cheap. Visitors only need to pay Rp. 2000,00 to get into the beach.
It was almost mid day that we went back to Rizky’s house. We walked along the sand. Empty, but beautiful.
We took off from Cicaheum bus and minivan station, Bandung, and after six hours of hilly road trip inside a mini-bus, we landed Pameungpeuk. If by any chance I could bail out the bus in the middle of the trip, I would, since the trip took us across the topside of a mountain, that there were several other mountains visible from inside the bus: a pink SSPJ mini-bus, with the sign of Mr. Smile painted at the outside. Covered by thin white mist, the mountains stood left and right and stretched from near to far and then faded at the far distance. There were plants below the mountain, planted by local farmers, spread blocks by blocks below the mountains through far distance, and faded. The trip itself was hard and scary, though. The road was always curving left and right, up and down, passing buildings and plantings, and it was broken in some places. We would end up at the bottom of the canyon if anything bad happened. Fortunately, it didn’t.
We stayed with Rizki, a friend of ours who offered his house as a free bungalow for three days. His house was located in Cikelet, a sub-district of Pameungpeuk. It was there, in Cikelet that the bus made stop, not far from the Chief’s house, revealing that the stop was not an official bus stop. Cikelet was a sub-district which road is still resembled the old days: stone and dirt. Some houses were separated by plants and trees. There was a river passed by, and the houses were built lined along its current. So there were we, at Rizky’s house, spent the night quickly hoping to catch the sunrise at the beach.
The next day, we went to the beach when the sun had arisen, means that we were late to catch the sunrise. There were several beaches in Pameungpeuk district: Gunung Geder (Means Mount Geder), Santolo, and Sayang Heulang (Means Eagle’s Nest). Rizky took us a walk to Gunung Geder beach, while I sometimes took the pictures of the silent main road, the plants on our left and right, the rice fields, the sky, and my friends. The road was good at the moment: it was thin in wide, covered with asphalt, and on some spot you could see a banner or two.
After half an hour walk, we arrived on the beach. There were white sands lined up to the sea in Gunung Geder beach. I took several pictures, when I realized a unique thing: there was no one but us at the beach. There were no lifeguards, no boats or fishers, no restaurant, nothing. There were only us and the white sands lined up to the sea, with trees and grass about 50 metres away from sea lines.
“I feel like if this is our private beach,” a friend of mine, Rusdian, said while getting ready to play in the wave. He put off his T-shirt, and so does Jefry and Fahmi, my companions. I didn’t put my shirt off, I don’t get used to it. I’d rather wear it and get it wet.
Sometimes I took pictures. This empty beach has many spot which would be good to be photographed. The waving sea, the white sand, and the clouds, there were all in the right order to be a nice picture. The wind breezed at a constant speed, and a bit strong. Sometimes my friends played with the sands, too. They wrote their names in the sands or built a sandcastle, despite their age.
“Those were nests of keyeup laut,” said Rizky while pointed out at one keyeup laut who made its appearance. Keyeup laut is Sundanese for tiny sea crabs (Keyeup=tiny crab, laut=sea). The crabs were only about 7cm in length, with less than 3cm in tall. They made their appearance on that morning, running across the sand and past the wind which begin to breeze strongly. Those who played in the waves also found sea snails.
Rizky showed us-who were wet and uncomfortable because of the sea water that stick into our bodies-a place for us to clean ourselves. It was the pond. There was a pond just a hundred away from the sea line. Amazing, I could say.
“It’s basically the stream of the river that went into the sea,” Rizky said pointing me the pond. It seems that the stream became a pond due to the land contour. As I walked myself down the pond, I could feel the water streaming into the sea. The water on the pond was warm, but the stream was cold. The differences could be recognized as I walked myself deeper.
The beach has nothing else to be explored. For those who wanted to have a meal, they can do it at the gazebos which stood far from the sea line. From there people could still see the beach. It was funny to think that there were no restaurants or vendors in Gunung Geder, or outskirt of it, as the beach offered people a good place to pass the time. Among every beach that I had visited, this one is the quietest beach. It’s probably because the place hasn’t been built that made it quiet. Also, the ticket was cheap. Visitors only need to pay Rp. 2000,00 to get into the beach.It was almost mid day that we went back to Rizky’s house. We walked along the sand. Empty, but beautiful.
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