#rbhs

39th WEEK, JUN 20-26, 2016.

(a.k.a the very very last one.)

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Wow. Okay.

Need to breathe it in for a sec.

Alright. The last week of 9 months.

A lot has happened, because of course I willed myself to have a lot happening.

Monday, June 20:

I took this day to do a last good tour of downtown. Did some last-minute shopping, took a fair amount of photographs (which I lost along due to the broken hard drive), and overall feasted my eyes with the wonder of downtown Seattle with its high-rises and hills and valleys and blooming trees lining the wide curb and the pigeons by Westlake Center and the innocence of Pike Place Market and the breeze along the waterfront and the Gum Wall and the hustle and the bustle and everything else in between.

(you know what I will not miss? The weed smell. It’s so Seattle, but at the same time, I can live in a version of downtown Seattle with no marijuana scent constantly hanging in the atmosphere of alleyways and city buses)

Maybe in the future I could be living in another big city or some other beautiful places, but I always know that nothing beats downtown Seattle in all its grandiosity and color. Nada.

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Tuesday, June 21:

Part of the downtown tour agenda was shopping at Chinatown for ingredients for what I was about to do on Tuesday. Some of my friends from Rainier Beach (Mary, Rebecca, Emily, Kira) were coming to visit after school (they were juniors and so they still had school), and I planned to make some Indo food! The choice fell to the classics ketoprak (for its ease) and martabak manis (as my propaganda to promote chocolate-and-cheese combo to foreigners—don’t @ me).

I think I initially planned to make gado-gado but some veggies required in gado-gado were scarcely available even in Seattle’s Chinatown, so I settled down for something which ingredients are more readily available: ketoprak. As for martabak manis, I found a quick mix for that thing in the Asian market HAHAHA all I needed to do was wet the drys, pour them into the pan, and wait.

It turned out great—for an impossible-to-screw-up recipe, but I’m still proud of myself. As long as the guests were happy.

I’d see these girls again the next day on Wednesday, June 22, when we had a sleepover at Rebecca’s. Talk about sleeping over on a school night. But it was worth every second of it. I remembered we took a trip ‘round the city doing stuff, and we got back late at night, all of us piled into Rebecca’s bed straight away, too tired to think or do anything else.

Thursday and Friday I went to school to take care of some stuff. Friday, June 24, was the last day of school for the year at Rainier Beach HS (and for me, ever), and at the evening I had my own goodbye party hosted at home. I invited everyone from dear friends at AFS Seattle chapter and at school, former host families, to the adults I’ve gotten to know along the way, like Laura and Imad and other people.

Here's the funny thing: I couldn’t even eat for most of my own goodbye party. The party started at around 6 or 7 I reckoned, and sunset/iftar was not until 9. So what I had been doing—and Eric had been assisting me in doing—was once in a while grabbing a snack I wanted to eat and just sort of store them in a corner in case they ran out before 9.

Imagine roasting marshmallows and making s’mores but not being able to eat them straight away.

It was a fun one rather than a sad one, though, to be honest. Maybe because we weren’t yet registering the fact that a farewell is truly coming, and plus I still have one last chance for good-bye with my fellow exchange students.

Like a normal person trying to squeeze out as many agendas as she can in her last days of living, after the goodbye party I went to Hinaho’s for a sleep over with fellow AFSers. I had been to Hinaho’s before, and I love her house and her neighborhood and her host family is just the nicest people, so I was excited to be back and we had a great time. We all camped in her living room and watched movies (one I remembered was The Divergent Series: Allegiant Part 1) until all of us just dozed off and the TV was left on.

(another personal, trivial moment I remembered was me waking up at the wee hours of the night in my sleeping bag, being reminded that it was time for suhoor, so I lazily grabbed one or two energy bars from my pack.)

(not that it’s a good advice to give, but during this time of the year I realized I could survive a fasting day without suhoor, as I almost never miss one my entire life until this year—and an 18-hour fasting day at that. So I figured, at least these energy bars would be enough rather than nothing at all.)

(and I don’t know, maybe being occupied in activities that make the time fly by also helps with fasting because you’re too busy doing these things you’re not reminded of hunger and thirst—as long as it is not a physically-demanding activity. It was pretty much like you’re too focused on doing something that you just forget to eat and accidentally skip meals. Another thing is that Seattle—even maybe the US in general—just did not have that Ramadan vibes, and that’s okay, because in Indo, I am always reminded of Ramadan because almost everyone is fasting and Ramadan being the festivity season that companies take so much advantage of as their marketing strategies. Sure, the lack of Ramadan vibes was saddening—in a way that I was just living my days without eating and drinking and getting angry without the semi-obligatory crowded late afternoon markets full of scrumptious snacks and gluttonous congregation, and nightly two-hour long prayers with noises of kids running around playing cat-and-mouse in the mosque yard—but that’s okay too, because I already knew these things when I jumped in. All I was worried about was surviving 18-hour fasting days and turned out it was the least of my worries.)

Saturday, June 25, Karen took me for a walk around Capitol Hill and Volunteer Park.

I couldn’t believe it was my second-to-last day and I was still discovering new things—Volunteer Park, especially, being so close to our house and I couldn’t believe I never went there before.

The park, like most Seattle parks, was a beautiful one. It was vast, with a greenhouse and a lake and even a museum (Seattle Asian Art Museum, which we didn’t have the time to visit). Karen took me up the water tower, which had an observation deck that provided a view of the park and a portion of Seattle beyond it. By the lake was a sculpture that the park was famous for—originally titled “Black Sun” by Isamu Noguchi, and colloquially referred to as “The Doughnut” (reminds you a lot of the same case with Chicago’s “Cloud Gate”, huh?). From The Doughnut’s hole, you can spot the Space Needle with the lake in the foreground, as though the Needle rose from the waters.

The water tower (volunteerparktrust.org)

The "Black Sun" aka "The Doughnut" (volunteerparktrust.org)

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Sunday, June 26: best day in Seattle ever.

No, not it being the last day in Seattle—that part was depressing. But at least I was ecstatic that I got to end the journey with a bang, by watching Seattle Pride Parade.

Add that to the list of things I would never ever ever get the chance to do in a million years had I not decided to jump into the exchange student bandwagon.

I forgot where I had heard of the Pride Parade from. Maybe Patricia and Amber. Maybe Karen, knowing my giddiness for festivals and public events to witness. At any rate, it was such luck that Pride Parade fell on that day, because if it were one day later, I wouldn’t have been able to attend and I would have missed one of the best experiences in my life.

So much coming from a mere spectator. But it truly was a thrilling experience.

Karen end Eric had stuff to do, so I hopped on to the bus downtown by myself (what else is new?) at around mid-morning, when the parade had just started. I was told that Patricia and Amber (along with Vera) would be there too (of course), so I planned on meeting up with them later on.

How was the parade?

Simply put, there were a lot of things.

There were of course big companies and brands with their employees dancing around carrying balloons with their brand on it, there were floats from big and local businesses, there were marching bands, there were local communities marching while carrying a long banner or letter balloons. Many floats have half-naked men dancing and having fun with themselves (from gay bars, mostly). There were people in just about any type of clothing and accessories dancing along the blasting music and giving free high-fives or even hugs to the spectators.

It truly was a day where people get to be free and themselves when 364 other days they don’t get to.

There were drag queens walking along with their stellar outfit and makeup, which amazed me the most because I had never seen such dedicated drag queens before. The image I have of drag queens are the ones available back in the home country—you slap a wig and dress and chest stuffing and you’re good to go to, either for busking around street food stalls for change or for other nightly services. Not saying that Indo drag queens are bad, but objectively the drag queen culture there is not as dedicated as it is in the US, with the addition that the US drag culture is well-facilitated, what with the bars and shows and RuPaul’s Drag Race and overall interest from the audience.

Suffice it to say, the drag queen industry was a flourish. And I was there to only experience the gist of it in the parade.

If I had posted this sooner, I would still have the chance to post the pictures, but since most of them are gone with the hard drive, here are some I vetted from my Instagram:

I met Patricia, Amber, and Vera in Seattle Center area, by the Space Needle. I hung out with them as they had lunch, me enjoying my last moments of playing with sweet little Vera while she still knew me in her toddler life.

After lunch, we went back to the streets. Vera looked excited at seeing these many things the parade had to offer (I remembered she was particularly excited when a group of people wearing leather and dog-like accessories—I later learned from Patricia that it was a community for enthusiasts of sub-dom puppy play and the sorts (CMIIW for the description)—and she went “pups!” so cute and blissful of her).

After a while, Vera no longer looked excited, which means she’s all drained. Patricia and Amber said goodbye while I stayed in the streets, still full of energy and not wanting to miss any of the event I would most likely get only once in this lifetime.

I walked along the streets from Seattle Center back to downtown, trying to find a good viewing spot. The floats were still floating, the dancers dancing, even the mayor was there too. At some point, I saw a group of people in the distance that I thought I had missed and would not see in this parade, but then again, on second thought, it totally should be in the parade.

Men and women and all the genders in between, cheering and cycling through the streets with their biggest smiles and hands waving.

They were in on it so good, I didn’t even notice until they got closer that all that was on them was body paint.

Naked cyclists!

My remorse of missing out on the Summer Solstice Parade instantly evaporated. Apparently I’m just that easy lol.

Not long after the cyclists, the parade slowed down to a close, the last show was people carrying a big-ass pride flag as wide as the street itself, facing the sky. The sun shining through the flag turned the asphalt below it into wonderful shades of rainbow colors.

(southseattleemerald.com)

Again, to say that this was an exciting experience was an understatement. This was the thing I had been looking forward to, though I came in with no expectations. Personally admitting, the conservative corner of me was astonished upon seeing what the parade had to offer me, but as the day went by, I ended up enjoying every second of it. I was basking in overstimulation—the clear sky, the hot weather, the bright pride colors, the big floats, the loud music, a new thing to witness every 5 minutes, the sea of excitement radiating from both the spectators and the contributors, and most importantly, the overwhelming amount of happiness, freedom, and, well,

pride.

It may not be my freedom and pride, but seeing them celebrating it made me as jubilant as they were. Happiness is truly infectious.

The other thing I’m most grateful about from this experience is to be able to witness first-hand what the word ‘pride’ in this context really means. Sure, in this era, we can still educate ourselves on the matter—there are thousands of sources and internet friends you can find that can give you all the information you need—but honestly, the Internet can only do so much, especially if the surroundings you’re in do not support or facilitate the issue. I feel like if I hadn’t gotten out, I wouldn’t have been able to empathize this much. I did understand the existence of the issue and that there are struggles on it, but being in Downtown Seattle on June 26, 2016 was what really woke me up.

After all, it kind of boils down to one simple matter: if any goals you have in this life, whatever they are, lead to you being happy and living in a world that is also happy, then why can’t you let other people do the same?

38th WEEK, JUNE 13-19, 2016.

If you know me well enough or you don’t but you’ve been reading this very tumblr page, I’m not surprised if you find yourself being bored listening to my likeness towards American comic books.

Wait, I’ll rephrase that, because I don’t think I even deserve that status. I like some American comic books, often Marvel over DC, and often only certain issues of certain characters, i.e. Black Widow, Deadpool, Hawkeye, and Ms. Marvel. These comic books were the second thing that popped into my mind when the plane I was in on September 2015 hit the American sky (the first thing being “oh shit, it’s getting real”).

This is my second-to-last week being in the Emerald City, being in the country where I can access these comic books I love dearly for only $2 a piece (in Indo they were like $10-15 AND they don’t even come in full volumes), and this raised an urgency to do what I had decided to do:

a comic book hunt.

But first, I’ll just write the summary of other parts of the week as the following.

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Monday, June 13:

The Oceanography class (more specifically, the Salish Sea trip students) went to UW to present the project we’ve been working on since the trip. We finally reunited with the Salish Sea people that we had gotten to know for the 3 days of the trip, and it was nice seeing them again. And who am I kidding, any school trip is always fun, and UW never failed to amuse me with its classy architecture.

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Tuesday, June 14:

The school held this thing called Senior Breakfast (I know right, they have so many events for the seniors and it had been fun!) and they held it in Rainier Beach Community Center just across the street from school. The event was pretty self-explanatory: you came earlier in the day before school starts, you could invite your family member, you sat on one of the non-assigned round tables, and you could help yourself to the breakfast buffet in the room. There were speeches and such, but mostly it was the fun of getting free food and hanging out, skipping a wee bit of school hours.

The agenda of the school itself was Senior Checkout Day, where you went to your classes just to get the teachers’ signatures on a form that basically stated you’re a senior and you’ve passed your classes and you were very much welcome to get out of the school (in an honorable way—that is graduation). There were also yearbooks given (for those who bought them) and I had those signed around and I signed some yearbooks myself. I made use of this opportunity not only to take pictures with my dear teachers (and other school staff I wanted to take pictures with), but also to give them little Indo trinkets and some little thank-you cards I wrote for them. Same thing I did with my professors back in Seattle Central.

[let’s pretend I put here the pics with DJ, Ms. Shaw, Señor Cadenas, Ms. Harris, Coach Beavers, Ms. Yip, Ms. Wong, Jurdy, and Mr. Henderson because yours truly had lost 90% of her exchange experience pics gone from damaging her hard drive for good]

(…but here’s the thing! I was lucky to be able to have these pics of me and Ms. Street and Pierce and Tomchick preserved)

So the pose with Pierce was because he told us during one of our classes that he had always had the same pose for the yearbooks (and it was true—he showed us the yearbooks from before). And the pic with Tomchick because this guy was the one who inspired me to get those pair of The Scream socks. Tomchick had been the guy who wears wacky socks all the time—he would show us his socks every now and then—and I kid you not, I never again take socks for granted.

(of course, before this day, I made him wear The Scream socks for Senior Checkout Day so he would match mine and we could make this photo happen)

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Wednesday, June 15:

Another thing that this week being the second-to-last week of my presence in Seattle and its everlasting glory of beautiful things, I, of course, had to take some time to shop (despite running out of luggage space). Among other things, I remember vividly buying two things: two shower curtains with printed illustration of a big world map and periodic tables (a request by my mom) from Bed Bath and Beyond, and a silicon ice cube tray in the shape of the US states (my utter hedonism) from Nordstrom Rack. I also hunted the waterfront and their antique shops for (more) wacky socks or simply looking around. In the evening, I took Karen and Eric watched Now You See Me 2 because I was a total groupie of the first movie. (Karen ended up giving bad reviews for the second one, and I agreed that the second one was a bit too much but I still loved it nonetheless ehehehehe)

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Thursday, June 16: Comic Book Hunt Day 1 (of 2)

You see, what I had been doing with the way I acquire comic books was that I walked into the store, I looked around, saw anything I like and available, and bought them. Most of times the issues I bought weren’t in order because a) I was too late that they didn’t sell the early issues anymore, or b) the next issues hadn’t come yet. So, by the end of the exchange year, I have found myself with many comic books in the same series but with some issues missing here and there. However, I have found some issues bundled into volumes of 4-6 issues which had better paper quality altogether, though on the other hand it seemed like a bit of a waste because in some cases I already had 2, 3, even 4 issues on the volume. Buying a whole volume of 6 issues would fill me in with the 2 issues I hadn’t gotten, but that would also mean I used my money on 4 issues I’ve already had.

The days before today, in these last weeks of no more waiting, I’ve sorted all the Ms. Marvels that I owned then I listed the issues I haven’t had. Then, I’ve started on calling one comic bookstore I know, listing the issues I was looking for. This comic bookstore I called didn’t have all that I need, which led me to calling for another, and then another, and that was how I basically had several booked issues of Ms. Marvel comic books in different comic book stores all over the city.

Before I embarked on my first store to hunt, I stopped by Elliott Bay Bookstore, hanging out by myself. Elliott Bay Bookstore is the nearest bookstore from home, and it was the second-best bookstore I’ve ever visited (the first being downtown Seattle Barnes & Noble). However, what makes Elliott Bay Bookstore different from B&N was the homy feeling to it. The floors, shelves, and railings were of wood and you can see the vast first floor from the loft-ish second floor balcony. Under the second floor was a little café, and that was where I spent a few hours writing earlier entries of this blog.

(pics from the good and gracious interwebs)

Books and café. Such an ideal place.

After noon I went. My first target would be Phoenix Comics and Games by Seattle Central College, but, if I was not mistaken, they didn’t have any of the issues I was looking for. The next on the list was this store downtown that I’ve forgotten the name of (what I do remember is that it was the store from which Antonio gave me a $10 gift certificate for my birthday). It was pretty easy: I came in, told the shopkeeper I was the one on the phone and asked for a certain issue of Ms. Marvel, they went to the back room and came back with the item of quest, I paid, and I left (well, after some minutes of looking around because why not). Not much time to waste anyway, because I had planned to go to the zoo, now that the day was warm and sunny (compared to my first visit to the zoo when it was winter cold and most of the exhibits were closed anyway).

1 comic bookstore done, 2 more to go!

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Friday, June 17: Comic Book Hunt Day 2 (of 2) and, well, Graduation

Ah, right.

I got too excited in telling you about my comic book hunt I almost forgot about graduation.

So we had the graduation ceremony this day in Memorial Stadium in Seattle Center Area. It was not until after lunch-ish so I still got time on my hands. I went to comic book store #2 and #3, respectively Golden Age Collectibles by the waterfront (this was the most complete comic book store by far. Complete as in it also had a whole lot of other geek stuff, like action figures—from regular-sized to life-sized—, really old comic books, and trading cards. All in mint condition) and, after looking around the store for a while, wasted no time and caught the bus straight to Wallingford area to Comics Dungeon.

I did my best, but at last I have satisfied my thirst for American comic books!

I didn’t spend a lot in there as I have other travel plans (squeezing as much agenda as I can in this short time I had left), so I caught the bus and went straight back south to the waterfront for the tourist attraction I haven’t had the chance to visit despite people going there all the time:

Yep. The infamous Seattle Gum Wall.

It was so amazing to the point it didn’t even look disgusting to me. The solo traveling situation got me in a bit of a difficulty taking pictures of myself, so I got a stranger to do it (and then the picture was gone anyway so what’s the point).

/looks at watch/ time to go back home, dress pretty, and off we went to Memorial Stadium to graduate!

You see, I would LOVE to brag to everyone how I graduated high school twice (one from RBHS and one from my original high school in Indo), but unfortunately, that was not the case.

Gretar and I weren’t given (rented?) togas. We also didn’t get any diploma. So all we would do in the event was to do what everyone else was doing, except for the toga-wearing and diploma-receiving part. All the seniors gather sporadically around the entrance of the stadium, all of them wearing togas. I did my best to dress nicely since I was not going to be wearing one. We did get some tassels and colorful necklaces, although I didn’t really know what they were for. The tassels were from the school, and I suppose they symbolize something like the class color or honor students or something—everyone had one but some had more than the others.

Oh another cool thing was that, as a celebration, some people got customized long necklaces from friends and/or family. Some were of flowers, but many of them—and I assume it’s the tradition around here—were of candies. I vaguely remember that people can buy them ready-made for this purpose, that’s why so many people had candy necklaces. Honestly, those are cooler than the flower ones since this one I can actually put to use after wearing them.

I didn’t have any graduation attribute aside from the tassels and necklaces, so I borrowed Jake’s grad cap just for a pic (that I lost). I do remember they were all like “you’re so cute!” with a grad cap without the robe, but I’m pretty sure that’s just me looking 5 years younger than all of RB seniors present.

We all filed in this one long single line from the tribunes and walked outside towards the field where all the chairs and the stage are. Later we found out we would be sitting on the stage, behind the podium and along with the faculties, and the other seniors would sit on chairs provided to them facing the stage. Families were seated on the bleachers of the stadium.

It wasn’t like it was a spotlight, because we were in the back of the stage anyway, and everyone was paying attention to whoever was speaking at the podium. Jurdy, teachers, et cetera. Ceremonially, we received the… case (?) for the diplomas, but of course with no diploma inside. Doesn’t matter. Still cool.

After graduation, I tagged along Gretar’s host family to Cheesecake factory for some big fat cake slices.

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Saturday, June 18:

It was a beautiful chill Saturday. It was supposed to be the day of Summer Solstice Parade—which I had been dying to go to—but I had to give that a pass for a couple agendas: one, a visit to Jenny and Seth’s house, and two, Jake’s graduation party.

(a little spoiler of why I had wanted to go to the Solstice Parade: because people said it was hella fun, and a rare annual sighting of cyclists with 100% body paint and 0% clothing. I reckoned people might be a little bit taken aback had they known I was eager to go to the Solstice Parade for—imagine me saying this in my enthusiastic, 18-year-old self—“naked cyclists!” but at this point of time in the exchange year, who am I to care anymore)

It was basically a day of clashing agendas. Supposedly, after spending the time hanging out and watching Pitch Perfect 2 with Harper at Jenny and Seth’s, I could have gone to either of these three agendas: Jake’s grad party, Gretar’s grad party, or the Solstice Parade. Given that I will see Gretar at my own farewell party in the upcoming weekend, and I valued my formed friendships with people at Rainier Beach High School more than some naked strangers, I decided to go to Jake’s grad party at their house.

The party was a lot of fun. It wasn’t like a party party—we chilled in their backyard, having drinks and snacks, we played bocce, we played Cards Against Humanity (my first time ever playing it and boy I was hooked. Then I came back home to Indo to never play it again because it wasn’t sold here and if it did, it was hella expensive). The Seattle sky was gray and cloudy—what else is new?—but the cold and light drizzle was never in the way to stop us from having fun.

On the way home and afterwards, I look back at the friendships I’ve had at Rainier Beach—truthfully may not be a forever and well-maintained one, what with the distance and everyone’s doing their own thing after high school and me being bad at maintaining relationships in general—and I thought,

I obviously was not as outgoing as everyone else, and my other exchange student friends may have better experience, but hey, this was something worth being grateful for.

(besides, if I was not grateful, I would have nothing to hold on to anymore)

At least they had etched a good memory in my short 9 months, and the brief fun I had during that time will be something I’ll cherish forever. Not only for the exchange year in general, but also for my own character development. I was sure as hell that I would have a hard time finding friends—and I might have, at the start, but in the end I wasn’t that much miserable. In fact, I wasn’t miserable at all.

Anyway.

The last day of the week (June 19), the city of rain decided to be a little bit nicer this time. The sky was bright blue, splotches of white clouds here and there, all in all an exquisite day to take a ferry out to Bainbridge Island with Karen and her friend Jen. Not a lot of touristy places in Bainbridge Island—at one point I remembered us going to a cute little craft shop—and we’re back home by afternoon, in which I continued my way to Kira’s place for her good-bye party. Another fun evening party, hanging out with friends and family, wholesome conversations, photos taken, heartfelt hugs exchanged.

Like what a proper good-bye party would be like.

(also, it’s a little strange solely due to the fact that I will be having my own good-bye party the following week, during which I will see many of the same people in Kira’s, so more heartfelt content on my end can wait until then)

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So, uh, hooray for the second-to-last week in the US, and therefore, second-to-last entry for this blog (excluding epilogue), I guess?

See you around.

Ramniwas Bajaj English High School: Nurturing Excellence in Education

TUESDAY, JUNE 7, 2016.

The alarm on my phone went off. I woke up, turned off the alarm, and gathered all the meager amount of willpower I had to not go back to sleep. It was 2am. I never skipped suhoor before. Never ever. And I certainly did not fancy the idea of skipping suhoor on the very first day of 18-hour fasting experience.

Remember when I said a part of what we do while fasting is refraining from food and drink from dawn until dusk? Suhoor is a pre-dawn meal we ate before dawn strikes. I usually give myself around an hour before dawn to eat and drink. Back in my home country, in the town where I lived, dawn strikes at around 5am or 10-15 mins to 5am, and the whole family ritually wakes up at 4. This, however, in this graceful city of Seattle in the graceful Northern Hemisphere during the graceful season of summer, dawn strikes at 3am, hence the 2am alarm.

Wow, my family and friends back home should be going nuts if I tell them I survived 3 weeks of Ramadan without rice for suhoor. You see, I don’t know about other people, but I used to think that if I don’t eat a lot for suhoor, I will starve for the rest of the day. Ramadan this year, however, proved me wrong. I ate things like pasta or noodles or bread and I survived just fine and dandy.

(also, my first and second experience of skipping suhoor due to oversleeping, also happened this year. That, embarrassingly, I admit because my mom always woke me up during suhoor at home and that’s why I never skipped suhoor before.)

My ritual since the first day of fasting was eating while watching “Friends” on the laptop. Then, as I believe many other Muslims do, when the clock approaches dawn time, I stuffed myself with water, taking big gulps and stopped when the time was up. Ding. The fast began. I did my dawn prayer, then went to sleep. Back in Indo, they say it was the wisest not to go back to sleep after suhoor, rather to fill the time with prayers before the sun really rises up and comes the time to go to work or school.

But here, since I left home for school at 7, there’s no way I would stay up from 3. Excuse me but I’m sleeping.

You know, even they say people who live real up north like in Europe or Alaska would just stay up all night after they break their fast at night, occasionally eating until dawn comes (which is also in the very early hours of the day), and sleep after dawn. People just adjust themselves during what season Ramadan is in, I guess.

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In the afternoon, I went to the library where the softball banquet was held. What happened there was basically a buffet and a little awarding for everyone in the softball team. Two girls—whom I forgot the names of—didn’t come because they were observing Ramadan, Tomchick said. So was I, which was why Kira was confused because I avoided whenever she tried to shove me food. It was an event to close the softball season, and the main event was awarding, in which every member of the softball team got an award made by Tomchick and Beavers, aside from the legit school-published certificate of participation in the softball team.

The awards were not something like the MVP or something. They were things like “Most Improved”, “Most Goofy”, those kind of thing. So, uh, for the award, I got what Tomchick wrote as “Smiles for Miles”. There was this one time I was fielding and I was on the way to catch a ground ball, but the ball bounces all the way on the ground and I was in the wrong position to stand and the ball bounced up to my face. It didn’t hurt, at all. If anything, I cussed and then laughed. That’s all. But Tomchick was like she-always-smiles-even-when-she-got-a-ball-to-her-face. I was sure it was because he was running out of ideas, having to give an award to each and every one of us. But thanks, Coach Tomchick and Beavers!

After that I went with Laura and Dave, Kira’s hostparents, to the auditorium to watch a music concert by the music class, because Kira was performing with her violin.

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That was not the only time I went to the auditorium for the week, because the next day I went there again for this.

So this awarding night was for students based on their GPA, and they got bronze or silver or gold kind of award for a certain range of GPA. I forgot details about it, but I remembered Gretar and Kira and I were within the same range, unless Kira was in the juniors cluster, and Gretar and I were in seniors.

On Thursday, we had Brian over for Oceanography class. One time we were talking about the Pacific quake in class, and I told Mrs. Wong I knew someone who was an absolute expert on this thing—my former hostdad, Brian Atwater, from USGS. He came to our 8-people class with a whole powerpoint and a few objects we could get our hands on, and he talked the whole period. It was amazing how he knows almost absolutely anything about this, even the things I didn’t think of, but maybe that was just me being dumb.

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On Friday, June 10, we had what was called Viking Day. Approaching the end of the semester, we held an assembly in the gym, then at the end of the assembly the seniors were gathered by the principal for some sort of instructions regarding check out day on the upcoming Tuesday and graduation and last remarks and all that. At the end of the day people were free to do whatever they wanted to do and there were games in the football field too.

I, of course, took pictures with people.

On Saturday, I tagged along with Nancy to help her with AFS Greater Puget Sound Chapter for their pre-departure orientation. There were several students from around the Puget Sound region who were going to go on an exchange with AFS. I went to help with Cece, Taryn, and Hinaho. 

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On Sunday, I did what I had been meaning to do: to explore the neighborhood of Fremont!

[pic creds: gonorthwest.com]

Fremont is a neighborhood full of art installations. They got statues here and there, sculpture in random places, and not to mention—aside from art installations—cool places like Theo Chocolate Factory (of which I did a tour with Antonio earlier in the year) and Fremont Cut (a canal that connects Puget Sound with Lake Washington).

Karen wasn’t available for Sunday, so Eric covered and that’s basically what we did: a tour around Fremont. We stopped by Eric’s son Aiden’s place, parked somewhere around the Fremont Bridge, then walked by foot around the neighborhood to check out the sculptures and of course take pictures with them. I even got a poster displaying all attractions in Fremont.

Here are the quirks and landmarks all over Fremont, taken in no particular order:

This, my friends, is the Fremont Troll (and behind her is a casual under-the-bridge statue minding its business). You exactly see that right, it literally is a troll under the bridge. Not only this guy lives under a bridge, but also grips a Volkswagen Beetle in its hand.

This huge man me is Vladimir Lenin. (yes, that Russian guy Lenin you might have heard of in History) Quoting the article I read in Curbed Seattle, 

“With an intentional depiction of Lenin as a 'violent revolutionary' instead of a benevolent leader, the statue was brought over to Seattle by the American Lewis Carpenter, who found it lying on the ground after it was nearly destroyed in a 1989 revolution.” 

Apparently this Carpenter person was so determined on having this statue shipped across the continent he spent a lot of money into it. Not that the neighborhood of Fremont where this statue stands provides some kind of political stance whatsoever—I think now people just see it as a quirky big statue in the middle of the intersection, which is what Fremont basically is about.

Aaand this is a rocket and its neighbor Saturn. It’s just sort of there.

This sign-post is no doubt the alleged Center of the Universe. See signs sticking up the pole pointing all over the place.

One of the most famous Indonesian traditional Minangese folklore is called “Malin Kundang”, which tells a story of a man named Malin Kundang who lived in poverty with his widowed mother and had the ambition to travel and make money to help their living. He then grew up and ended up rich, married, and travelling all over the country. However, when he stopped by his home town for work, his estranged old mother came—still living in poverty—to him, being separated for so long, but Malin was embarrassed of his poor mother, and so, he pretended he didn’t know her. His mother, of course, was extremely sad and humiliated, and no matter what she did, he wouldn’t budge to admit her as his mother. Being heartbroken, she then did a last resort as Malin left the harbor: she prayed to turn Malin to a rock.

And so he did turn into a rock. His ship was wrecked by the waves, he realized what he did wrong at the last minute, profusely begged for forgiveness, but the damage was done, and he was left deserted by the beach in prostrating position (a ‘sujood’ position, to be exact), hard as a rock... literally.

That’s a long introduction. These rock people standing by the bus station are NOT evidence of their disobedient lives to their mothers, but instead a sculpture entitled “Waiting for the Interurban”. Along with those people was also a statue of a dog. However, take a look at the dog’s face.

[pic creds: The Holy Grail Press]

I didn’t even know why the sculpture just out of the blue decided to sculpt a human face for a dog’s. According to Wikipedia, though,

“The face of the dog was sculpted to resemble Fremont political leader and the city's "godfather of recycling" Armen "Napoleon" Stephanian, with whom Beyer (the sculpture -red) had public disagreements in the 1970s.”

Simply saying, this Napoleon man, according to the sculpture, was a dog.

(which was kind of relatable to Indonesian humor because we often use ‘dog’ as an insult term)

Oh, the (living) man taking the picture with me was Aiden, by the way.

This is a statue of J.P. Patches, a television clown character “The J.P. Patches Show” that aired in Seattle in 1958 for 23 years. The statue was built from fan donations,

which signifies just how popular the show back then and how loved it was by both children and parents.

(just me casually hanging out with my topiary pals: the Apatosaurus mother and her kid)

And these do not cover other wholesome art installations that resides in Fremont. Not to mention things like the canal or the chocolate factory or the quirky antiquities store Archie McPhee.

So, um, that’s Fremont for you. And there’s nothing like Fremont, I bet.

.

.

36th WEEK, MAY 31-JUNE 5, 2016.

English class has always been interesting to me. If I think about it, English class (be it here as a first language, or back home as a second language) is always more fun than Indonesian Language class back home. In my class in Rainier Beach, which is IB English Language and Literature, we read classics and Shakespearean plays and interpret those. (don’t get me wrong, I had to read The Scarlett Letter for English Lang class during my short stop in Houston and it was painful, but something about how English teachers’ way of teaching is so interesting and, of course, not boring)

For the semester’s big project, however, we were told to make podcasts. About anything.

I understand that podcasts aren’t much of a thing in Indo, but the simplest way to explain podcasts in a nutshell is audio lectures, audio books, discussions, serial stories, or anything about a topic. And honestly, it’s not even just lectures. You can talk about anything in a podcast (in my Theory of Knowledge class, we listened to a series of online podcasts entitled “Serial”, which covers a story for each season that is told in an interesting and comprehensive way).

But this time, Mrs. Shaw doesn’t limit us to just audio, but we can put visuals in it as well. So, basically saying, our big project was to make an audio or video file talking about things which has our arguments in it. And we could do it individually or in groups of three, max.

Me, being myself who essentially resents group works can be quite an individualist, of course, decided to do the podcast by myself.

And me, being myself who almost always aims to be anti-mainstream, chose a topic that most people would hate and throw rocks to after the first glance.

I argued that zoos aren’t necessarily inhumane to animals. For a side that believed that zoos are downright cruel and disgusting, I stood against them.

Of course I know people aren’t always going to agree with me, but as a (used-to-be) debater, I tried to smother everything in good wording (and some solid arguments can i get a hell yeah), and at the end, all I need to be satisfied was Mrs. Shaw saying “you got a point.” (aka “hmm iya juga ya”).

It was an enjoyable school task to do. Ehe.

Anyway, the next two days, Wednesday and Thursday, were two sacred days we all students acknowledged dearly as Early Release days. The neverending amazement of Seattle has turned me into somewhat a Dora the Explorer, even though it was clear that I have always been a damn-straight home person back home. Would rather stay home that being somewhere else.

But an exchange student logic was that you’re missing a lot of you spend a lot of time at home.

So Kira and I hit the waterfront and rode the Seattle Ferris Wheel.

And the next day I spent by myself, visiting the Seattle Art Museum and indulging my fangirl side by watching X-Men: Apocalypse.

Remember I mentioned once that it was the time of SIFF—Seattle International Film Festival?

Karen, Eric, and I looked up the showtimes and movies, trying to find anything interesting, and of course the choice went to an Indonesian movie, entitled “Copy of My Mind”, so we watched it on Friday evening.

It never occured to me that films in film festivals aren’t those up the regular theaters. Most of them are months old before the time of the festival itself, some even a year old or more. But I guess that’s the point of having film festivals: as a platform to promote films, because almost all of them don’t include big starry actor names, and all of them aren’t in a franchise.

Copy of My Mind, however, was starred by Chico Jericho and Tara Basro (blame was on me for just recognizing these names for the first time), and soon after the movie started, I got why I’ve never heard of this film before back home: it would never be able to air in Indonesia. Simple as that.

As usual, my movie-goer sense was so much indulged in cheap plots of franchise films where every message is shown explicitly during the film with a mandatory happy ending and a bonus of occasional car explosion, so when I saw the ending of Copy of My Mind, I was disappointed. I didn’t get the message.

(later I googled the film and it turned out to be a hard-core social and political satire towards my own country) (so yeah, go watch it guys) (majukan perfilman indonesia)

On Sunday, I was reminded by the remaining days I have by attending Nouha’s goodbye party. She would leave three days after the goodbye party, which is June 8, and I’m still staying here until the end of the month, but surely it sucks to remember that you have to leave eventually.

But the goodbye party was a fun one—sliders, chips, other typical tasty American barbecue snacks in the backyard, people bringing going-away presents, and of course, pictures.

(I swear the pictures were up somewhere but now I couldn’t find them)

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Aight. That’s quite a brief (???) summary of how the first 5 days of the week went. Whereas I usually said the fun part comes in the weekend, this WHOLE week was full of fun and things to do (thank God for early release). HOWEVER, though, however,

this weekend was Prom.

That’s right, everyone, you heard it. The infamous American High School Prom.

....

Gitu aja sih. Ehe. OKAY. Prom in Beach... was definitely UNLIKE Proms in other, harshly saying, white rich school everywhere else. But the part where people ask other people to Prom, well, that was done everywhere, I guess.

I was walking the hallway when Rebecca and the others stopped by and Rebecca asked me, “Nabila, who are you going to Prom with?”

“...????? I don’t know??? No one asked me to.”

“It’s America, you can do whatever you want. Why don’t you ask somebody?”

yaela yang bener aja lu dasar ampas kepala.

Jadi gini sih. The way Prom works (or at least in my school) is that only the seniors are invited, unless the seniors ask somebody else from other grades—juniors, sophomores, freshmen, or people from other school—to be their prom date, then those persons are also invited. And I know Kira is a junior, so I asked Kira as my prom date so she can experience prom and everybody is happy. Also because Rebecca and Emily were committees so there are fellow juniors there. yaela padahal karena emang gaada yang ngajak dan akhirnya ngajak temen sendiri supaya tidak garing

I didn’t take too much trouble setting up a promposal—Prom proposal—unlike those who are seriously dating—a friend from Theory of Knowledge class made a poster and got his football team to promposed his girlfriend, it was very sweet—and because I was an awkward unromantic piece of shit, I asked Kira to be my prom date during stretching before softball game.

She was appalled. At least she wasn’t repelled, which was good. Good thing she didn’t expect a canon of flowers or posters or an orchestra playing for her to be promposed.

And that’s the story on how I got my prom date.

Which was totally not unusual, because at Prom night I found out that Alex asked Justin, a junior, so that Justin can experience Prom with his senior fellows too. Zion, who is gay, asked Nina out of friendship. A lot of people do that that night. Many people even went with their squads instead of being in pairs.

When Kira was scrolling through numerous online shops to find a dress, I bought mine in Nordstrom Rack—which was basically Nordstrom but they sell old stuff that were cheaper (because I didn’t feel like spending hundreds of bucks on a dress I’m gonna wear, like, once or twice for my whole life). Not only I bought it in Nordstrom Rack, I also bought it last Febuary, which was before Winter Ball. That being said, I used the same dress as what I wore for Winter Ball. Which was good, because I didn’t want to waste money on dress I would most likely use once. The admission ticket was around $40 anyway, while other schools my AFS friends were in charged around $80-100 for it. sekolah saya miskin emang, tapi asik.

Sementara ada temen-temen saya yang ‘melamar Prom’ pakai poster, bunga, permen karet (dia nawarin sekotak permen karet gitu trus pas dibuka ada tulisannya ‘Prom?’ trus dikasih bunga, lucu abis sih), ada juga temen yang asal ngajak cewek manapun yang kebetulan lewat, dan kalau ditolak, geser dikit trus ngajak cewek lain terdekat. But then again, I didn’t know how significant a prom date is—whether being asked to be prom date equals being asked to be one’s girl/boyfriend, or is it just a one-time occasion thing?

Whatever it was, I do know that at least Prom in Rainier Beach High School doesn’t shun single people. Yay. Nabila can go to Prom without worries.

HOWEVER.

However, around a week before Prom, I found out that Indonesian Students’ Association of Seattle University (ISASU), which was like a couple blocks from my house, was holding some sort of event, and guess who came as a guest star.

....

NO.

I DO NOT LIKE HOW THIS TURNS OUT.

I REALLY DON’T.

After contemplating which one is rarer: to experience a classic American high school Prom night every exchange student wants to be a part of or meet a massive Indonesian dazzling pop-star in person, I did what I thought was best for me: I chose Prom and let go of Raisa, with the arrogance of “I’m Indonesian, she’s Indonesian, we’ll meet again but I only have this one chance for Prom” without realizing that that will least likely to happen.

I came to Kira’s house on Saturday afternoon, June 4, 2016, and ate Indomie for pre-Prom dinner (Prom dinner paling tidak modal sepanjang sejarah manusia). Then we had a photoshoot in which Kira and I look like a happy couple of lovers. Then Laura drove us to the venue. Which was a not-so-big space in SoDo but enough for the whole class lah.

(pic credit to whoever took this)

Long story short, it was fun. At first it wasn’t really because both Kira and I did not know many seniors despite some people I recognize from classes I am in, so we talked with Emily and Rebecca. Then people I know started to show up—Nina, Justin, Zion, Alex, Gretar, and others—and we danced. What was fun about it was that everyone didn’t dance with their dates, but mixed in into big groups of friends and was having a pure hyped-fun time instead of a romantic one. (not to brag but Nina and I did some duets and we were killing it) (kapan lagi bisa hacep dan meliar kaya begini ya)

The King and Queen of Prom, instead of voting, was done by a raffle (maybe so that everyone can get a chance instead of a cliche competition of popularity). Rony got King and Antoneyah got Queen. There was also two photo booths, an elegant one with a sofa and a fun one like a photobox along with hats and fake mustache and other stuff you could use.

(’twas Rebecca, Emily, Rony the playboy, me, and Kira)

(terus baru 3 tahun kemudian AFS menggerayangkan gerakan AFSPride)

(mampos kenapa w pendek sekali, bahkan dalam standar orang indonesia)

(tUH udah naik tangga pun masi lebih pendek)

THEN, the event continued for whoever wants to join everyone to the Seattle Ferris Wheel, while free tickets were provided! We sporadically went to the Ferris Wheel by Uber—some people didn’t come due to curfew and probably an after-party somewhere (I finally convinced Kira to join after many considerations. Since the Wheel was closer to my house, she agreed to crash in my house after).

Lucu banget aih. Anak-anak remaja pakai baju-baju bagus, sebagain berpasang-pasangan, dan sebagian lagi bergerombol kelompok, dan rame-rame masuk ke kereta Bianglala.

(’twas Gretar, Alex, Justin, me, Kira, Zion, and Mohamed)

Kapan lagi kaya gini huhuhu seneng.

It was—I don’t remember—a bit after midnight? After we were done Kira and I took an Uber back to my house, had ice cream in my bed while watching Monsters University, and fell asleep halfway through the movie (and my laptop ran out of battery).

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Aaaand that’s probably as close I could ever be with Raisa: in the same city, neighboring neighborhood.

But at least, thinking back, I would not trade the experience I just had with anything else.

Salam dari penghadir Prom Rainier Beach High School dengan style hijab paling cantik (karena memang satu-satunya),