The Science of Loss

I just want this post to have an awesome title. There will be zero science involved in this post, in reality.

I came back to Indonesia about two weeks ago after spending about six months abroad.

And the first thing I did was weeping. I wasn't catatonic or something. I was darned helpful and functional. Heck, I unpacked my bags and everything. But the tears just kept falling down. 

I was bereft. I grieved. 

In Japan, I had my own income (small and just scholarship, but still!) and I managed it quite well and successfully.
Here I don't.

In Japan, I know exactly what I have to do.
Here I fucking don't.

In Japan, I lived with my roommate (who is very kind and understanding) and close to my friends. We shared similar activities.
Here, I don't.

In Japan, I can wear anything I like.
Here, hell no. I am asking for it. As one of my classmate kindly reminded me on my first day, "Dyah, ini Indonesia ya bukan Jepang." ("Dyah, this is Indonesia, not Japan.")

In Japan, no traffic to deal. By traffic, I mean traffic traffic, the insane kind that makes you cannot move. And you have the option to walk because the sidewalks are freakishly spacious.
Here, I risk get run over because although Indonesians pride themselves as religious race, they don't pay attention to other people's well-being. And traffic rules be damned. And sidewalks? 

Lovely. Where should I walk? Air? Pinpoint, please

The ones in close proximity of my house are even worse.

Japan is clean. Here, it is dusty (well, not much to do beside cleaning them and cover things and hope for the best - dust happens) and dirty. Trash anywhere.  And not sorted.
And there is a slogan that says "Kebersihan sebagian dari iman" (Cleanliness is half of the faith - roughly translated). Knowing this motto, and seeing the sanitary level of Bandung, I must honestly say that I am doubtful that Bandung citizens are really that faithful. Pah. Clean atheists are better than piggy holier-than-thou-hypocrites.

In Japan, I am free. I am freaking free to do virtually frigging anything.
Here, you can be damned sure I am not.

In Japan, I don't feel homicidal all the time.
Here, I am secretly plotting to bring an insane quantity of concentrated acid to spray to half of the people I interact with in a day.

In Japan, I can get holy-moly-heavenly cheese at princely price. AND ENGLISH MUFFIN. I ADORE ENGLISH MUFFIN. THAT'S WHY I AM IN LOVE WITH MCDONALD'S BREAKFAST PACKAGE. Because they have the goddamn english muffin and hashbrown.
Here. Bah. Don't even think about it. And do I miss Indonesian food there? Hell no. What for? There is a store that sells it in 新億簿. After all, I spend twenty-two goddamn years of my goddamn worthless life consuming those same food over and over again. So, no. Food is certainly not an issue there.

How do I deal with this loss?

By pestering my friend who is still in Japan. Boy. You have the patience of the saints. Saints plural.
By pestering my Indonesian friend who is patient enough to hear, respond, and understand. I love you, Kania! (she's awesome)
By thinking about my final project.

But still. Heavy loss is heavy loss. I really miss my friends whom I left behind. Nobody has time nor interest to play Hold 'Em and/ or UNO here.

I am better now. No longer crying on daily basis. And every time I feel huge loss, I drink Coca Cola (no alcohol here. First, insane price. Second, parents) and take precious bites from the Ritters my friend and his girlfriend gave me as parting gift (because in Indonesia Ritters is, well you know!). I still keep the melkesjokolade my other friend gave me as well. But, still... 

I miss Japan. And I miss them. 
And I cried again :') because nobody can refrain from crying when she recounts her losses.