Victory.
Two months after returning to Banda, my housing is finally settled. After looking at boarding houses, guesthouses, and apartments- all of which fell through for various, annoying reasons- it was decided, after five minutes of looking at the house I’ve been living in since January, that I may stay. Finally!
While my new home is a twenty-five minute drive from work, it is only a few minutes from Blangpadang, a popular park for exercising. Repaired and somewhat rebuilt after the tsunami, Blangpadang has a track, soccer fields, and basketball courts. Hull-shaped plaques with flags from each country that contributed aid encircle the park, and there is also a small plane –amongst the first in Indonesia- mounted on a cement pillar.
Sunday mornings Blangpadang is packed with aerobics fanatics of all ages in a multitude of colors. It is an amazing sight, hundreds of people in multi-colored track suits, veils waving around, all in time to the calls of several instructors on the central gazebo. Amped up techno music keeps everyone moving from 6:30 to around 9am, after which people flock to nearby porridge, doughnut, and beverage stands.
Everyday, around 5:30 the track is pretty full of people walking, running, and chitchatting. There are always a few older people running barefoot. I’ve started running (always with footwear) at about this time. Banda’s intense sun finally gives way to the ocean breeze by then. I start at my house, run through the neighborhood, around the track a few times, and then back home.
At this pace, I’ve gotten to know the neighborhood in a way that is impossible on a motorbike. I know I am a spectacle in my neon green pants with orange racer stripes, long t-shirt, and dangling ipod. My ponytail bounces all around and I make sure to smile at those neighbors lingering around the road. My particular favorite, though, is an older woman who is almost always sitting, or lying, on a bench in a very small, open roadside restaurant. She’s usually wearing a large, floral dress, and her extremely red lipstick accents her large smile in an inviting way. We make a point of always waving and smiling as I run my course.
A few days ago, I was trying to drag myself through a short run. This was a day where exercising seemed impossible; I was exhausted, the sun was practically yelling at me for even trying. The temptation to walk was so great but then there she was, this lovely woman just ahead of me doing the most remarkable thing. By the time I reached the stall, she had everyone up and waiting for me. I pulled my lazy body over to the sound of applause- she had orchestrated a very real standing ovation. I raised my hands up to the sky like a true athlete and thanked my audience. This is a far cry from my last house where I gave up running after being chased down by twelve-year-old boys on a motorbike.
This is it, victory.
While my new home is a twenty-five minute drive from work, it is only a few minutes from Blangpadang, a popular park for exercising. Repaired and somewhat rebuilt after the tsunami, Blangpadang has a track, soccer fields, and basketball courts. Hull-shaped plaques with flags from each country that contributed aid encircle the park, and there is also a small plane –amongst the first in Indonesia- mounted on a cement pillar.
Sunday mornings Blangpadang is packed with aerobics fanatics of all ages in a multitude of colors. It is an amazing sight, hundreds of people in multi-colored track suits, veils waving around, all in time to the calls of several instructors on the central gazebo. Amped up techno music keeps everyone moving from 6:30 to around 9am, after which people flock to nearby porridge, doughnut, and beverage stands.
Everyday, around 5:30 the track is pretty full of people walking, running, and chitchatting. There are always a few older people running barefoot. I’ve started running (always with footwear) at about this time. Banda’s intense sun finally gives way to the ocean breeze by then. I start at my house, run through the neighborhood, around the track a few times, and then back home.
At this pace, I’ve gotten to know the neighborhood in a way that is impossible on a motorbike. I know I am a spectacle in my neon green pants with orange racer stripes, long t-shirt, and dangling ipod. My ponytail bounces all around and I make sure to smile at those neighbors lingering around the road. My particular favorite, though, is an older woman who is almost always sitting, or lying, on a bench in a very small, open roadside restaurant. She’s usually wearing a large, floral dress, and her extremely red lipstick accents her large smile in an inviting way. We make a point of always waving and smiling as I run my course.
A few days ago, I was trying to drag myself through a short run. This was a day where exercising seemed impossible; I was exhausted, the sun was practically yelling at me for even trying. The temptation to walk was so great but then there she was, this lovely woman just ahead of me doing the most remarkable thing. By the time I reached the stall, she had everyone up and waiting for me. I pulled my lazy body over to the sound of applause- she had orchestrated a very real standing ovation. I raised my hands up to the sky like a true athlete and thanked my audience. This is a far cry from my last house where I gave up running after being chased down by twelve-year-old boys on a motorbike.
This is it, victory.
Labels: Indonesia
posted by Michelle Ahmad at
March 17, 2010
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