Loved-Yet-Hated Street


Street of Life

Street hustle of Bogor, near to Train Station

I have been more than curious to see people's way of life how they run things, from cooking to driving, from sleeping to riding. As a neophyte of neighborhood's bustling life, it is such a guilty pleasure when I desync myself out of the spin despite of my countless endeavours to match the rythm. And out of such livelihood, the 'street culture' is definitely the one I am at my utter inquisitiveness why I still have yet nodded.

Over last four and half years, it has always came relatively conquerable to me to adapt with new style of living. Moving from a dwarf town of an island you probably never ever see on screen to an outskirts of city well known for its long standing history and jardin-like visage at some stops, fellows at my arid yellowish origin land may think I'm blessed by the new place of lush green. But here I am not about upholding royal, folks. I'm just like other ordinary pedestrians who are fully sober we are not on too fascinating runway. Most of times we are like stepping on sherds with non-stop rushing fogs passing by next to us.

Here it is my current hut, few-meter-distant from circuit. Together with other disciples, at no distant we clearly are alarmed sometimes by distracting yet painful roar of failed racer. Pieces of glass, the blood stained, even conflicted argument on who is right among involved convicts, is face of street next door. When sorcery works out, out of sudden it turns into temporal hearse before ambulance cleans up the hot spot no stinks nor random things left. Then people forget it on the next day until the new scene comes over like deja vu, we are reminded. It is so magical!

 The circuit next door is our daily pathway, beautiful painted asphalt turning out two-way street divided by four lines borderlessly. It extends as long as miles away from somewhere out of sight to the heart of city which passes by our niche. Don't ever challenge yourself to drive or to ride during busy hours, or you'll be trapped in crazy hell traffic jam. Even though being a pedestrian has no guarantee to be always safe. I'm so jealous of strolling along the sidewalk of Solo city as far as I would, or of crossing the street the way I enjoy most at every crossroad of Yogyakarta with guaranteed traffic light accuration. I also miss to be drowned in the brisk walk of Ginza and to enjoying panoramic view by stepping on sidewalk of Makassar street competing with cars next to me to catch the sunset. But the reality is here and right now.

I remember one of past Fridays at sultry noon, this magical street was full of long queueing cabs and motos covered by unhappy face of sweating blokes, a police in the middle of jungle and was trying his best to ease off the crowd. I attempted to pass by the zebra cross as it is supposed to be, starting from right side to left side approaching a small mini store over there. Out of my glassed eyes, a helmet-covered ghost rider had his costly ride touching my leg and geez! Fortunately he was able to control his accelaration, just my leg chafed. A girl few meters from my standing also experienced the same. Sigh.

Another day perhaps was my another badluck. It was still fresh and the sun was so bright though. I planned that day to have early class. I expected it would be nicer to have myself bridging the two sides as that day was. Unfortunately, as I passed by through the appropriate way (Zebra Cross), out of sudden a happy couple riding moto commuted right in front of my move at crossing pace. I tried to keep a distance avoiding clash, instead of being thankful for in a state of safe, the boy shouted out loud at me with some f*cked spells and the girl who was covered by hijab looked happy innocently the way his boy screamed his mantra while she still stared at me after the plight as they were passing over. You both really scared me and I was still numb, speechless.

As a guest of this town, I expect nothing but please let us be more respectful. There should be no sense of superiority as we all are same, the tax payer and in the mean time altogether users of this highway, just for some miles long. Some of us are true not seating inside Jaguar nor Cadillac nor Valentino Rossi-like moto. Some of us are just daily pedestrians who sometimes should take longer road when it was blocked as few weeks ago when the President and teams crossed by.

This is the true street of ours, not very pretty nor too popular when you name it like most others, away narrower than LIE (Long Island Expressway) but as crowd as it is. And our street has some mentions you can beguile as it brings you to place you name it. Expect us.