On a winter morning, I met a girl who was incredibly beautiful, though not necessarily so to others.
On the east coast of Sydney, I met her: Elisa. The beach was surrounded by a stunning and beautiful natural harbor. As a student from Indonesia, that beach was intoxicating to me; there was nothing like it back home.
The girl was young, and we were studying at the same university, the University of New South Wales, albeit in different programs. I was in Engineering, while she was in Medicine & Health.
We often met at Bondi Beach. We would also plan to meet at Hyde Park on the weekends. Through these meetings, I felt that we were compatible and decided to initiate a relationship.
We understood that our culture, as Eastern Javanese people, wouldn’t disappear. More or less, there was an emotional bond. A sense of neighborliness that led us to share all our problems and impressions of our time here, whenever we met. She was from Ngawi, and I was from Bojonegoro.
Especially living in Sydney, she still felt like a foreigner, as did I.
“Have you ever thought about living here forever?” Elisa asked. From the look in her eyes, I could tell there was a turmoil within her.
“Why do you ask?” I responded.
“We will soon be leaving this city. You know, in seven months we will graduate, right? My question is, if we return to Indonesia, will we be able to contribute to society?” she said.
“We don’t have to study far away in Australia to be useful people, do we?” I replied.
For a moment, she just remained silent. Her eyes were staring straight out to the sea. There were some small ships like cotton balls floating on the sea. The waves were chasing each other. The rustling wind seemed unable to distract her thoughts.
“Do you miss someone, Elisa?”
She turned to me. There was no more heartfelt language than a nod from a girl longing for her hometown.
She had missed many moments while being in Australia. Especially the sad news when her father passed away and she couldn’t return home. The same was true when her older sister got married three months ago, and again she couldn’t witness her sister’s happiness at the wedding party.
“You will return home after graduation, right?” Elisa asked for confirmation. I just sighed.
“I don’t know… I no longer have a home to return to. My parents have been long gone. My grandmother, the only family member left, also passed away a month before I received the scholarship. Besides, after we graduate and return to our homeland, we still have no job guarantees. While finding work in Indonesia is very difficult,” I replied.
“Right now, the only thing I have left is also about to leave me, and that’s you. I have no one else left except my own life,” I continued.
She stared at me. She always looked at me when I spoke. She also liked to wear camel jackets in the winter and liked black pashmina hijabs.
Her apartment wasn’t too far from mine. It only took fifteen minutes by bicycle. And on the weekends she would often spend time at Bondi Beach.
The place was located about four miles east of Sydney’s business center. We usually spent time there from morning till dusk. There were stunning cliff lines and clean white sand. We never missed the opportunity to see a pod of whales from the shoreline.
“Come back home with me. We will start a family there. Doesn’t it sound reasonable?” she said.
“God created the heavens and the earth. Of course, He also created life with its sustenance. You don’t need to worry about that,” she continued.
***
That morning, I opened the curtains. The sky was incredibly clear, although the air outside was cold. There was no snow in Sydney. There’s no snow here because it’s in the southern hemisphere and the climate doesn’t support snowfall. Even without snow in Sydney, the temperature sometimes drops to 8.8 °C.
Usually, in the mornings before classes, I made time for coffee and reading books or newspapers when I wasn’t cooking. I had grown accustomed to living alone in Sydney. I also realized that, if I returned to Indonesia, I wouldn’t have a home to go back to.
I was comfortable living here, and I felt like I had found a suitable place for myself. However, the government had warned scholarship recipients, including me, to return to Indonesia after completing their studies.
The thin smoke from my cup of coffee wafted in the air. Its fragrant aroma reminded me of a time long gone. As a child, I used to drink the coffee my dad made by my mom before he went to the tobacco garden. My dad would often blow on the coffee to cool it down before I drank it. The best coffee was the one mom made for dad.
Back in my village, I still had a house. It’s empty now. Even so, I was reluctant to live in it. A house without a family in it is not a home to return to. Similarly, although it’s winter, there’s no snow in Sydney.
But occasionally, I wish to visit my parents’ and grandmother’s graves someday. I also thought about returning to Yogyakarta after finishing my master’s program. Because Yogyakarta was like a second home to me.
Suddenly, there was a knock on the door from outside. The knocking sound was heard again. Instantly, I walked towards the door. I peeked through the curtain, it was Elisa, not the newspaper delivery man.
I opened the door. To me, the girl was genuinely beautiful, regardless of what others might think. Her eyes and smile were so perfect. She invited me to go to Hyde Park. I simply could not resist her invitation.
We cycled along Elizabeth and St James Road. It took fifteen minutes to get to the oldest park in Sydney. Even without snow, we would be cold if we didn’t wear jackets and thick socks.
We cycled leisurely. In this city, the traffic wasn’t too dense, so there were rarely traffic jams. Because of the expensive private vehicle tax, people preferred to use public transportation for their daily activities.
Once we arrived, we sat on a long bench. She opened her bag and pulled out a novel titled Ronggeng Dukuh Paruk by Ahmad Tohari.
“Don’t you want to ask why I like Pak Tohari’s novels and short stories?” Elisa asked me.
Although I knew a bit about Pak Tohari’s works, I wanted to hear her reason.
“Why is that?” I asked.
She took a deep breath and looked at me.
“Every time I read Pak Tohari’s works, I find my hometown. When I miss my hometown, I always read Pak Tohari’s novels,” she said.
“Come home with me, you’ll find happiness there,” she continued.
I remained silent for a while and just nodded, just like when she revealed sentimental things.
Illustration: imseeingthing.