Home – Part II

After then, I was offshore. Standing *coughing* on my dearest country’s land.

I was still carrying my big fat piano. I began to scan on familiar face. I was one, he was in his middle forties. I called him and said : “Do you drive?”. He replied : “Yes”. I followed him at the back while he walked toward the carpark. He was trying to offer help carrying my piano. I declined. I was afraid he might hurt my piano. I followed him at some distance. I decided to stop and wait for him to drive the car to me. It was drizzling that day.

He stopped the car in front of me, I squeezed my long piano into his car. With a great deal.

I arrived at my home in about 15 minutes. I paid, alighted, and pulled out my getting heavier piano.

Finally, I was home.

My New Job

Lesson commences on 7th July.

Home – Part I

I am back from Indonesia – Tanjung Balai Karimun.

I shall begin from the very beginning of my journey.

I was greeted with the increase of fuel-surcharge (again). I carried a very big electronic piano weighted around 15 Kg with me. I carried to the ferry alone, no baggage check-in is allowed (i don’t believe them either, my piano is very fragile).

Inside the ferry, I put my piano in a seat. So my piano took a seat, a very corner seat that most people wouldn’t notice. It was very crowded that day. The ferry was almost full-seated. Occasionally, one or two empty seats were sighted, other time, I had difficulty to get through the narrow corridor.

Once arrived at my ‘dear’ country, I was greeted with the custom officer questioning my big piano that I carried exhaustedly. They asked the standard question : Where do you get it? I chose from my standard answers : (My friend gave me, someone threw it away; I merely picked it up, and I bought it a very cheap price). This time I chose : My friend gave me.

To my very surprise, after a few round of questioning, they didn’t accept my ‘kindness’ (you know what I mean, don’t you?).

家

原来我的家不是最温馨的避风港.

Last day of work

It was nothing but usual working day.

I worked the whole day. Nothing was different. The mood was the same. Everything was the same.

Boss was the same.

I received a card. And $100 voucher.

I guess it’s still the same.

I slapped her

I slapped her, It was a very painful slap.

She just stared at me. I don’t know what she will become.

I lost.

Going back

My going back visit to Balai (my hometown in Indonesia) has been as constant as the software release. Every three weeks and occasionally four weeks.

When I made this decision, I knew it wouldn’t be welcome by most people. The people that’s related with me somehow. It was because my pre working age (school day), I went back every 2 -3 months once. I went back for at least 1 weeks and at most 3 weeks.

Unlike the 3 weeks cycle, I only went back for 2 days.

The beginning, most people try to dissuade me. The reason : waste money. But I ignored them.

As the time goes by, the people are always asking me when I will be going back. In other words, they hope to see me going back as they want to ask me to bring something back.

The time that changes the people, or I am the one who changes the people?