The weirdest feeling came to me that evening when I was downtown last weekend. Sitting on a motorcycle (my husband rode it), having nothing much to do, I looked around and felt utterly strange.
How can I put it? It was like being sucked into a weird oldie movie. And a slow motion one. A motorcycle passed by and the rider sported a pair of knee-length boots. Boots in Surabaya are a rare sights, even in malls. And here was a guy with stylish boots in a shabby motorcycle.
Following him was a lady in a motorcycle with very wide boot cut jeans. It was an amusing sight, as she could be a shadow from the past.
As she passed by, the stores along the street started to catch my attention. Stalls selling dusty cheapo firework. Ancient stores with fading signs and interior full of dust. Grandpas with hooded eyes stood behind their displays, trying so hard to keep awake. Short time hotels with tacky old-fashioned lamp signs. It was as if the whole sleepy street tried so hard to keep awake, tried so hard to catch with the present.
I so wished I had a camera with me.
Crowded, but everything moved slowly. Everyone was in andante tempo, not rushing anywhere. The street tried to drag me sleepy and heavy, but I was wide awake, bewildered with the fact that I had never known such atmosphere existed in my hometown. I felt excluded. Alone. I did not belong there. I was an alien.
As soon as the street ended, suddenly I was pulled back into the present. All I wanted to do at the moment was writing down the feeling.
This post might not be useful to anyone. You can ask: So what? And I'll have no answer.
This post is to preserve my memory. Because I know: the moments pass and memories fade away. Unless we somehow preserve them.
How do you preserve things that are important to you? As for me, I want to write more. And that includes writing down my feeling on being an alien in my own hometown.