Adventure Time ! : A carping culture conundrum

It’s almost been a year since i went there, i really small but yet strong country.

i can still remember the read soil, the hot humid weather, and the wet wind blowing your face, like a natural version of your household air con.

the people there, they are very simple, they don’t need so much, they don’t ask so much, you can just talk with them for a while and you know you’ve made their day. so does yours.

at first i was afraid to go there, it was just the small voice in my heart. most of my body rejected it. i mean, if i am looking for a poor country, i can just go back home. theres a tiny hint of arrogance there, i feel like theres nothing poorer than Indonesia.

i never known that you can be very arrogant from being poor till that time.

on the first day of my arrival, i saw nothing significantly different than Indonesia.

a chaotic traffic, social gap, economical injustice, corruption, tourist, the kind of thing you see in those developing country which you know will stay roughly the same for another 10 years.

you can smell burnt gasoline throughout the way from the airport, even through the air con of the hotel car, i can smell the mixture of old engine and the CO2 from other cars outside.  the road was bumpy, full of wholes, and narrow.

even the hotel i stayed on was really excellent, and yes i can see a lot of tuk tuk driver (motorbike taxi of some sort) waiting for you to devote their whole day to drive you around for a mere $20. same with becak in indonesia, i’m sure vietnam and thailand would the same thing as well.

i’m sure if i tell you more a more detailed description about cambodia i will bored you off so i’ll just cut to the case.

just before i do the work at the orphanage, we stop by a rather quite big monument which was there to commemorate the victims of the khmer rouge regime. the place was typical of monument, none you can’t see in other colonised country like Vietnam and Indonesia. Despite so, the stories were still quite moving. Especially when you see those hundreds and hundreds of human skull and the public burial space.

there was this one tree which was also quite unique. it was covered with thousands of bright coloured bracelets from its top to bottom.  a normal sized guava-liked tree, about two and a half metres tall.

apparently it was quite a special tree, some hundreds baby heads smashed against it .

we visited another place which was an old school used as khmer rouge’s prison. The story is quite similar, the place was similar to lawang sewu at semarang.

i can’t deny it but those sort of things does move your heart even for a little bit. despite of it being commercialised for corruption money and shit, you still do care and feel bad about it.

but this sort of things happens everywhere, with the Indian in the States, Aborigines in Australia, and other indigenous people at developing country. while the stories does move you, you do get sick about it and tend to get some sort of apathy towards it.


it is not until i get to the orphanage and the local school that you feel how lucky you are.

it’s been a month since i’ve been back to my beloved country Indonesia.

Nothing much has change since i left three years ago, scepticism, apathy, complains, and the evening ramble from my father watching the good old evening news just complaining, commenting, criticising, swearing, laughing, and so on. Me myself  i quite enjoy listening to him, sometimes i even fill his comments with some other rash comments as well. Then we would go to sleep and meet up again in the morning just to complain again about almost literally everything that are on the paper. Then we do our things, get home, eat, and complain again.

If there is a single culture that the Indonesian has successfully preserve, is the beautiful culture of complains.

It was a quite daunting day for me, admittedly, i’m not good with kids. i like them, its just that i think the feelings are not mutual.

It was around 11 at the afternoon when we arrived there, we entered the yard through a rather old blue gate with a hint of rusty brown which yield a distinct noise when you tried to open it. it is just a few metres until we park on the yard slash basketball court slash biking path slash playground slash parking space. as you drive towards the yard, you can already see some of the kids playing around the gate, i am not really sure what kind of game they were playing, only thing i remember is it involved a small transparent plastic bag and a handful of soil. you can also see on your left some kids playing on the old swing made from old piece of rope and tyre.

As we exit our van, you can feel the excitement from those kids, hugging you and asking for you to play with you. You can really see from their eyes that they are really happy and grateful with your presence. Nothing is fake or even slightly made up just because you’re new there or you’re very bored waiting for the traffic light . You can sense their happiness, their gratefulness, their thankfulness of even just your presence there and the few minutes you give to play with them.

Meanwhile last week my little sister, whose really cute, just joined me and my father in our evening complain culture.

We proceed through with our task for few days, painting, teaching, hygiene program, another painting, and finally nailing. And those smile, putting aside my cheesiness, are the thing that got us going. They even gave some of us a bracelet they made themselves. Their simple happiness, their thankfulness, despite of being orphans, despite of sleeping with another twenty something kids under the same roof, despite of eating rice and spinach every night are mind boggling.

its weird how some people can live a really happy life even though what they call life are rather simple when somebody might have all the money, love, and fame in the world and can still complain.

To be fair, the predicament is a bit different, they do have the fortunate privilege of being ignorant about the shitty matter we are facing.

But you know what, their living condition and even their country are ten times worst than Indonesia and i don’t hear them bitching about it. not yet anyway, hope not in the future.

and yes, this writing do not have any meaning nor does it have any stories in it. so, sorry just waste your time :p

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