Day 3 of 30 days writing challenge : A memory.
Somehow, I have such a vivid memory of my time spent in Kompleks Sesarehan Gunung Kawi (Kawi Mountain’s Temple Complex).
Back then, my parent had just divorced, and my mother brought me over to her best friend’s house. They were a Chinese-Indonesian couple who owned a traveler’s lodging house in the heart of one of Malang’s most famous pilgrimage site. My mother had to sustain us, so she had to leave to work somewhere far away. And so, there I was, by myself, in a stranger’s house, in an unknown place.
Yet, I remember it as one of the happiest times of my childhood.
Life in Gunung Kawi was simple.
Every morning I woke up, often shivering, inhaling the fresh mountain air. It was a long holiday before I started first grade of elementary school, so as a kid I naturally had all the time in the world for the day.
There was a never-ending friendly debate each morning between my new family—whether it is better to eat before you brush your teeth or brush your teeth before you eat. (Now, I believe in the first premise.)
The kind auntie liked me, since I was described as a smart and obedient kid, so I had no trouble with anyone. I had no friends to play with but there were a lot of cute, round turkeys I used to chase around in front of the house. I had a bag of frutella candies that I kept like a treasure, and I carefully ate them one by one, each day.
And every day, I went exploring.
Sesarehan Gunung Kawi was so festive, with all the red decorations, busybodies going on pilgrimages, candles, bells, souvenirs, and street foods all over the place. I think I might have been there on a special occasion. The bathhouse just beside my place was always steaming from the hot waters. Ginger drinks and hot meatballs plagued the place.
If I tread down the small road by the bath house, away from the main street, I’d find steps leading down a bamboo forest, with fresh river waters. People say the water was miraculous, so at the end of that road, there was another huge bathhouse in the middle of the bamboo forest.
If I come up the main stairs towards the mosque at the top of the hill, I’d see a lot of temples with red and white candles and charms and ribbons. The scent of incense was in the air. It was strange, now that I think of it, that the mosque and the temple were side by side, both merry with visitors. I just thought, it was interesting. And I kept going.
And one day, on one of those days, a big, big paper dragon and barongsai would dance down the steps, fluttering and jumping and blinking and turning their heads left, right, up and down, followed by so many costumed people dancing and playing festival instruments, with bright colors and loud musics.
It was such an enchanting time.
I visited the nice auntie a while ago. Sometimes I wish that place would just stay in my mind. Except for the nice auntie, everything else seemed to have faded. The nature, the food, the festivity. The colors. The sounds.
The bath house near the lodging house was in ruins, and a dog took shelter in the middle of a pouring rain.
How long was I there, back then? I was so small, so I have no idea.
The place in my memory, maybe it’s now all gone.
This might be why I love Spirited Away so damn much. Once upon a time, I, too was spirited away to some unknown land... then part with those I came to love.
