Skin.

What a sight to see!

It’s summer, and everyone here is baring skin. My friend calls it “an excessive reaction to the sun, wrought by winter oppressiveness”.  I’d like to hear him tell that to those girls over there, strewn across the grassy city parks like monsoon mushrooms in their bikinis, dreaming of sand on their cheeks and salty sea smells.  I’d like to hear him tell that to those other girls over there, bouncing around the city in skin-tight skimpy jogging wear.  They’re having so much fun they wouldn’t care less.  I must admit I started feeling rather stuffy in my jeans.

Of course, I didn’t bring my beach-wear. As the same friend confirms when the first thing he asked me was, “have you brought your switer?” (that’s how Indonesians pronounce sweater), we pack to prepare for the unfamiliar, that being cold and unpredictable weather.  We could well call our actions an excessive reaction to the future cold because I sure as hell packed a lot of switers.  Which aren’t much use at this time of the year.

So I embarked on what I would call “reactionary shopping”, which is the sort a girl does when a girl attempts to Go With The Trend.  But since I’m no longer a teenage trend-hopper and I was brought up to be a politely-dressed girl, my choices turned out to be conservative after all.  But just because I can, I went jogging bra-less the other day.  Obviously no one noticed, but shocking isn’t it.  I might fancy calling it an excessive reaction to liberation. =D

The flight of the escapist.

Finally, on this 20 hour flight, some peace and quiet. 

Well, unless you count the germans, who seem to enjoy speaking across the aisle to one another. Fortunately, I don't understand a word they're saying, so it's like white noise.  I'm taking the Lufthansa, so we're making a stop at Frankfurt. On the plane the announcer's very german voice burst through the speakers, saying "We are about to land in 15 minutes, so please return to your seats NOW."

A smattering of laughter broke out among the passengers at the last word.  I immediately imagined Arnold Schwarzenegger (10 dollars says I got that spelling right) sitting back there behind the microphone, saying "Get back to your seats NOW, or I'LL BE BACK."

At the airport in Frankfurt I had to stay for 7 hours, so when we landed my primal senses instinctively turned themselves on and began sniffing out my primary means of survival:  free internet. Found said internet.  Found that it wasn't free.   Grudgingly, I pulled out my credit card, swiped, and opted for the 15 minute session.  Enough to send a few emails, or so I thought. 

As I logged in to my email, I miss-typed my login name.  It said "Teey".

Feeling daft, I re-typed it, and there it was again saying "Teey". 

Looking down at the chunky keyboard, I discovered in horror that the germans had all their keyboard keys jumbled up.  The letters were all over the place!  Where there should be a "Z", there was instead a "Y".  And then I spent the next 10 minutes looking for the "@" symbol, which was shyly hiding beneath the letter "Q".  After swiping my credit card again, I commenced in writing my very short email, which was excruciating because I was typing like a two-year old, or like my mother. 

By the time I clicked "send", my minutes had run out again.  I'm thinking the whole keyboard business is a nasty tactic to get foreigners to spend their Euros on typing. 

It was a lonely flight, which was the beauty of it.  In Boston, my friend called out my name really loud at the arrival gate, which was a lovely welcome too.