Ijen Crater (beauty and irony)

 

Its beautifully dreamy for me, the whole picture of the mountain and the lake. But once i have to face the sulfur miners, my heart couldnt bear the image. They have to carry at least 50Kg sulfur from the crater to the post on their shoulders. Each Kg worth only about 600 IDR (not even a cent usd). The sound of their creaking bamboo basket and their gasping breath went penetrate straight to my heart, choked out the spoil person out of me, and all i could do just stumble and cried. If only my language is good enough to describe how rough it is to struggle with your breath and sight to cut the sulfur rocks. the smoke stuff your lung like heavy mist that block the air in. The trek from the crater up to the summit is mostly loose rocks that every clumsy move could roll you down and break your bones, yet those miners mostly only wear flip flops. Their shoulders had turn to rock it self from carry the burden.

“i think they are happy, Sita!” was a comment from a photo-journalist friend who stayed at the miners village for 3 days, and we agreed that they are like that simply because they havent seen the world out there, where better life exist.

And sound of the creaking bamboo basket and gasping breath haunted me for weeks.

 

those moments (of the rain, alternative rock music and I)

When i was sitting in the bus for a long ride. Music was loud in my ears; playing Muse, Radiohead and Tool, and it rained outside. Water pearls were racing on the window. Time seemed relative, as my mind was breaking loose; wild and happy. Like little kid playing with mud, she was dancing within ideas, throwing silly questions and remarks bout random stuff. i didnt bother with pen and paper, enjoying her free beauty; didnt want to put her in a box and  trap her in definition.

When i was on waiting mode, sitting inside a crowded room. Music was loud in my ears; playing Muse, Radiohead and Pearl Jam. Everyone there was just like me, waiting for the wall of water to eventually break all down, so we can move on, dry. Time seemed relative, as i let my mind sitting next to me, and together drawn in quietness, simply enjoying the sight of nature doing its thing.

When i was sitting next to the glass wall, expecting some people to show up. Knowing that the rain must have slowed them down to be on time. Music was loud in my ears; playing Muse, Radiohead and Linkin Park. Time seemed relative, that i forgot where i am what i am doing, hypnotized by the moving image of people rushing in and out between parking lot and the restaurant. Like watching repeating TV show thru huge screen.

those moments (of the rain, alternative rock music and I)

when i wished no one would poke me

reminded time to reclaim its potent