Jakarta | Pipin

Jakarta 10 PM air hit me like a truck. Hot and heavy.

Had a long anxious walk to the arrival gate and being stopped by a stranger who picked up my ID Card. I didn't thank him enough. Something about Jakarta that I simply don't talk about. Told Seetha yesterday that the city scares the heck out of me. I was born here, and although it's not much different from Surabaya—where I was raised at, I have zero interest to fit myself or befriend Jakarta in any way.

I keep saying this over and over again though; I love, love, love its public transportations. Faked it till I made it on the bus ticket box as if I had been there million times. When really every ounce of my knowledge relies on Trafi—someone gives the creator a rise, please. Ha!

Among the lingering kretek smokes and passengers bonded by hidden paranoia behind their blue paper mask on the waiting room, my stomach rumbled with regret from the airport overpriced pisang goreng and vile iced cappuccino. Which I must say, a daily occurrence from the impulsive buying tick I have been trying to get rid of for years. Every time it happens, it feels like going back to square one. So here I am. No longer starving for all the wrong reasons.

Someone shouted, "Kemayoran!" I dragged my nervous body. There were only two other people inside the bus. I sat by the window, the leg rest didn't want to come up. Or maybe I was using it wrong.

My phone screen lit up. Text from Pipin,

"Bought you nasi, ayam, telur. Must eat."

I chuckled,

and felt home.

My hungry heart growled.

Typed back,

"Will eat. See you in a bit. Did you get the Boncabe?"