"Nasi Goreng!"

It is a common understanding that the first Indonesian words learned by foreigners are probably “selamat pagi” (good morning), “bagus” (good) and…”nasi goreng” (fried rice).

Nasi goreng becomes a popular word due to a joke (sadly true), if you are a tourist and got lost somewhere in Indonesia, you’ll be safe if you remember this word, because you can easily find nasi goreng almost everywhere in Indonesia. It’s an acceptable food, and tastes good (depends on the cook though. But mostly it’s good).

However, a magic word would still not be a magic if spoken in a wrong circumstance.

I lived and worked for a year in Bali, an island of paradise for foreigners, including tourists. I lived in the heart of Kuta, the most crowded tourism area, mostly occupied by young tourists from these groups: surfers, backpackers, adventurers, and them who prefer to save their bucks.

There has been a narrow alley called Poppies Lane 1 (there is also Poppies 2), the most populated alley in Kuta. Motels, restaurants, cafes, bars, souvenir shops, surf shops, internet cafes, barber shops are here.

Bamboo Corner is one of these restaurants that serve good food with low prices. As a matter of fact, it was one of my destination places to fulfill my need for meals. Bamboo Corner hardly ever lacks of guests.

This story is told by Yu Lie, a surfer girl who shared the same boarding house (kost) with me, one of my best girl friends.

One evening Yu Lie was having a dinner at Bamboo Corner, alone, sitting on a seat of one of the tables at its terrace. A group of local girls were having a chat on the narrow alley, in front of where Yu Lie was having dinner.

Then a tourist passed by on a motorbike. It looked that one of these girls knew this person, and so she yelled at him, “Hey!”

The tourist saw the girl, and spontaneously replied, “Hey! Nasi goreng!” and continued his journey, leaving this girl and her friends in confusion.

He might have intended to say, “Apa kabar (how are you)” to her, or perhaps he just wanted to be polite saying something in Bahasa Indonesia. But oh well, he has chosen the wrong word. Happened in front of many people, including some foreigners speaking Bahasa Indonesia, this misuse of language happened to be a funny situation.

The ever-narrow Poppies Lane 1, Kuta

A language switching is probably not as bad as the misuse of words, but still, interesting. If you visit Bali and would like to see a beautiful sunset or to surf in a place called Dreamland, part of Uluwatu, along the steep road to it, you’ll find words like “POLICE IN 50 M. NO BAGUS!” or just “POLICE! NO BAGUS!”

It is said that some bad policemen like to blackmail tourists (sad though). The reason for asking some money from them is, “You are not allowed to hang around on the street wearing no cloth.” Surfers are perfect victims because they often don’t wear shirt. Even they still wear pants, topless is considered “indecent” (Give me a break, Officer. You guys give an irony to the meaning of Bali tourism. Topless boys and girls are spread on the beach). Some Brazilian surfers who didn't like this fact, sprayed these words along the road to Dreamland as warnings to their fellow surfers to beware of the police officers who can suddenly jump out in front of them in any given second.

Nasi goreng, lah!

Konde, Oh Konde...

Culture is one of Indonesian assets. As an Indonesian, I am thankful for the rich culture we inherit from our forefathers. As a matter of fact, I like the diversity of Indonesian ethnic culture and proud of it.

However, as a remain of ancient days, some irrelevancies occur in the use and applications of culture, or in a more exact meaning, the traditions. On the other hand, our seniors (i.e. the ladies and gentlemen become the foremen in our colleges or offices, the deans, our bosses, the President, the Secretary of Education, etc., or perhaps our own parents?) enjoy maintaining the complexity of some traditions.

I’d like to share one night I spent chatting with Desita, reminiscing our college years which ended up talking about “konde.” Started with a topic of Joglosemar bus that Desita hasn’t ever seen since she left this city after we graduated, we ended up talking about the graduation day.

I just realized that a hairdo had made Desita so annoyed, and since, I just realized that many of us could have felt the same way too. I didn’t feel that way because I was pretty comfortable with the hair bun my hairdresser had made.

Konde is Javanese hair bun, included in a package of traditional Javanese outfit.

We ended up concluding we hate the outfit we were wearing. We concluded the outfit and the stuffs we had to do were annoying.

This is what I’ve discussed with Desita (with some editing of course, cuz you know how messed up a conversation on Yahoo Messenger or any chat room could be).

Desita : We graduated on the same day, didn’t we? :D

Me : I think so, didn't we? Yeah, you sat on the first seat on the right, cuz you had the highest GPA!

Desita : No way…it was Vilia! :P

Me : Oh, it was her!

Desita : I only had 3.2

Me : Oh, you sat next to me! Yeah…I just had 3.27. You had 3.29.

Desita : Slightly different. Like butter and margarine.

Me : Yeah

Desita : See? Hu uh.

Me : But we had to sit in order, so we did in order, though the difference was just 0.2. We can’t sit on each other’s lap! :D I forgot who sat on my left though.

Desita : You should have gained 3.30. So you would have sat on my right, the first seat.

Me : Why? So I would get the first cake?

Desita : So you would have been pictured first!

Me : Oh! Yeah… but thankfully I wasn’t! It wasn’t a perfect moment to be pictured. I hated to be pictured on graduation day.

Desita : I hated my konde. I really hated it.

Me : It was damn ugly.

Desita : I hate the ibu-ibu in salon who made it.

Me : I hate my toga (toga = academic gown, according to Desita). I wanted to take off my toga, it was damn a hot July afternoon

Desita : I don't really like my konde on my wedding either but I really love the make up :D. I love my muka (muka: face).

Me : Yeah, you always look good in Javanese make up anyway.

Desita : It depends on the make up artist too. Wish the mbak-mbak who did my make up on my wedding was the same person did my make up on graduation day. ;))))))))))))))))))))))

Me : I ordered a hair bun, but not really a konde. Maybe she just twisted my hair. That’s why I looked cute, didn’t I?

Desita : Ya yaaaaaaa. Wish i could turn back time. I also ordered a “cepol” (cepol: a small piece of hair bun), but the lady didn’t seem really understand.

(Duh! If I could turn back time, I would try to get a scholarship to Singapore's Nanyang University. Wondered why I didn't even think of it.)

Me : But I hated the toga and the hat, I think it made us look like clowns.

Desita : We were clowns!

Me : I mean, get real, toga is definitely not women's outfit! So why did we have to wear kebaya and konde?

Desita : Everywhere in Indonesia, you have to wear kebaya and konde on your graduation day. That’s why I decided to take a Master Degree abroad. Indonesians are so into culture, Jeng, eventhough sometimes it isn’t important at all.

Me : But it’s a paradox! (I meant toga, and kebaya and konde).

Desita : That, write that on your blog!

Me : A good idea. I must scan my graduation pictures though. They weren't digital. Or perhaps you’d like to contribute yours?

Desita : Not in this life!

Me : :-)))))

Desita : I hate it with all the konde and stuff la

Me : Ha ha!

What Desita said was true, Indonesians are so into culture, eventhough sometimes it isn’t important at all. Like I said, if we had to wear toga anyway, why should we have worn kebaya (the traditional Javanese women’s blouse) inside and konde (and then we had to cover it with hat?). It’s just so confusing. I think it’s a paradox. A stupid paradox.

And what I don’t understand is, why did I wanna do it anyway?

Vilia, that girl who had the highest GPA, she didn’t make a hair bun! She just loosened her hair and wore outfit as if she was a Chinese princess.

Perhaps you won’t understand what we felt—if you don’t experience it, that we finally admit it was one of the worst moments of our college years--to be in an uncomfortable traditional blouse, a tight batik skirt, and put on a heavy, thick academic gown outside and put on a stupid hat. I even wished I could skip the graduation if only I didn’t remember I needed the diploma and to be pictured with my classmates!

Anyway, a picture of me and my girl friends might help you figure out what kind of torture we were going through. If a picture paints a thousand words, this picture even tells you a million. It was as if we were punished for a crime we never committed.

I am on the left, and Desita is that girl on the right.
(Click the picture to see a larger image)

Somewhow I must apologize to Desita for finally revealing the secret we have been keeping for years (we never wanted to remind that stupid konde and toga), revealing the ugliest performance we ever made, the most sweating day of our college years.