Today, 192 years ago

A fine young man with great personality and innocence was put to prison in the Island of If away the beach of Marseillaise in 1815. He did not know anything about politics, he was no accomplish of Napoleon, did not know of Mr. Noirtier. Up until his unfortunate escape (unfortunate indeed, he lost his friend, foster father, and teacher on the way out) 14 years later he could only imagine why he was put to the damned dark dungeon of If.

He spent his lonely days thinking, wondering why he had to be cast away off his lovely fiancée Mercedes, his loving father, and his respectable master Mr. Morrel. Life indeed was not that cruel, despite the blankness of dark If. Faith connected him with Padre Faria. Together they weave escape plan, filling each other with love and friendship, sharing emotion and hope, also knowledge. To his side, though, he kept a hidden agenda, a personal revenge.

He made it to escape barely without scratch, save that sunburn. He made it to re-make his life, a much better life than just being a junior captain. He “conquered” French, take his revenge and the most important of all, he lived on. He was Edmond Dantes, aka. Count of Monte Cristo and the rest is history.

What about this person, 36 years passed after his first cry, 4 years after his personal saga that keeps following, haunting him like a lost ghost. What have he learned, what have he achieved, when will he find his own Monte Cristo Island, when will he ever conquer his “Paris” ?

Great God in heaven, forgive Thy humble servant for not turning his face towards Thee.

Tanjung Priok, February 2, 2007

Here I am, one of crazy people of around 10 out of 150 who made it to office albeit continuous rain that pour cats and dogs and elephants all day and night yesterday that make driveways around and streets leading to my office flooded 2 feet deep. Don't give that thunderous applause as yet. Thunder was lacking last night, only rain, though.

I came down to office some 23 km away from home in a drizzle. No worry at all, Absent of current hard news about flooding around my hood and streets to office (no friends made to reach me as I mistakenly left my cellphone in office and no radio with me). Anxiety started to reach me as it took me more than 20 minutes waiting for a bus (a routine that usually take 5-7 minutes). Once it came, I saw empty seats! shortlived smile formed in my face and it was banished as I saw why. Those vacant seats were there along with watermarks. The bus' roof was leaking. I took one least wet seat, next to a nice looking girl with her earplugs and beautiful clean hands.... (what am I doing, well, that ease the boredom of long haul in heavy rain inside a then-full-packed bus).

Second fact arrived, the bus could not take its regular route, yep, you are ablsolutely right, flood hindered even high clearance vehicle this bus had. So it had to enroute back to the last in-ramp of toll road before the flood, which meant we have to go back by 5 km in a crowded road before we entered the toll road again.

Victory! toll road was empty, not many cars were brave or crazy enough to leave their garage (that might already drowned). I managed to ask the girl with beautiful hands about traffic and situation around my office area (she works not so far from my office and she was full geared with radio and cellphone). She said her boss eventually freed her to go home (and by the time she got the news her office was at sight) because the street around her office were already drowned by 2 feet of flood.

I decided to go on, well it would take me a long way back home (long in a matter of time and distance) and I was sure there will be some ojek (public motorcycle drivers) available once I stepped down from bus. Me the great was right! Ojek followed the bus as it came to a halt. The driver offered me a ride which I eagerly accepted. And as I put my poor damp ass on the seat, he asked me to roll my pantalon's trunk up. Hmmm.... I smell water....

We made our way like a speed boat with water rip curling alongside. Weaving right and left for higher ground. I paid the generous driver 3 times usual fee for that service (it's ok to be a bit generous, especially when you got no small change...).

The office, dry like hell. Only a small number of cars had arrived. I ran to my room and it was still nicely and securely locked. Apparently the OB did not make it, he lived in a flood-prone area. So, here I am, some 23 kilometer and 2 and half hour away from home. Have a very nice day, folks!