“Yeah. The flight was good.” I said to her.

In fact, all I can remember about the flight is not the wheather as I keep on fall asleep. All I can remember is the strange man next to me. A short guy with hat and dark eye glasses who keep on whining about his congested nose. He’s probably in his 40 something. A small pierced heart tattoo on his upper right hand serves as a reminder that he has going through different stages of life.

I didnt open conversation until he struck me with bold east Javanese accent, not long before the pilot announce altitude decline, asking me, “asline ndi, mas?” (Where do you come from). It turned out that he is originally from Manado, grew up in Sidotopo (an area not far from Kenjeran – an area in Surabaya where I spent my youth), get married with Manadonese woman in Surabaya until 2003. Now he lives with his wife and two children in Tondano. He told me about his life and job in an oil palm plantation 100 km north of Timika. He said that its about 10 hectares of land full with oil palm plants and that he work everyday from 8 in the morning until he reach home at 9 just to fall asleep. He didnt mention about the Kamoros who abandoned their kampungs in the coastal area of Mimika to find work in that plantation nor about the habit of keeping in touch of whats going on in this world through television or newspapers. “Ga tau ndhelok tivi, mas.” (I never watch television). He answered me when I asked him about the Indonesian citizens who being held hostages in the Philipines, not far from where I am right now, Manado. A city that give Soekarno lenso dance. Some will probably said that Soekarno get the idea to use Lenso dance as national dance due to his visit to the Moluccas. I personally believe that Soekarno get the idea when he visited Manado. Some will said that it has nothing to do with Soekarno’s visit to both place. The only certain thing is that the dance was originally from those two places and that the project has long been abandoned by the fascist Orde Baru regime. Places where people enjoy songs, festivals, food, and all dramas of life, just like Barcelona or Paris.

A place where someone is sitting in an empty cafe, writing useless rants in Evernote, drinking not too cold beer and watching sunset through a bamboo screen. Not far from there, a little girl is taking a selfie with her tablet. Behind her a vast ocean full with islands, corals, and pirates. The pirates who, until now, still held his fellow Indonesian citizens as a hostages. He is suddenly sneezing. He is probably too tired of his flight to this place from Timika or probably get the virus from the strange man named Denny.

Yeah, the flight was good. All is good. I said that just for my self.