messy notes from Bogor, where the air tastes like overwatered rice
i just got here and the first thing i noticed was the smell. not bad, like a fridge that’s been opened too many times, but where i’m from that’s practically a compliment. the temp’s 29.something, feels like 35.67 if you squint at it, and the humidity’s stuck at 84% like it’s doing a victory lap. perfect weather for my gear, i guess. i brought my vintage film camera from 2012, it’s basically held together by hope and gumption, but it took this shot of a street vendor’s cart selling mango wrapped in banana leaves. looked like it belonged in a dream.
the best street food spot is called Gerard’s Noodle Nest. someo. told me that if you ask for the secret sauce, they’ll give you a matchstick of chili paste. i didn’t. i’m not that brave.
i heard that the locals here have this weird rhythm. like, they’ll hum the same tune while chopping vegetables or arguing in the market. i tried it once. now i can’t stop. it’s either that or the culture or the humidity idk.
"don’t drink the water, it’s basically a science experiment," someone whispered to me at a bar. i didn’t believe them. i drank it. now i’m writing this with a slight stomach ache. worth it.
if you’re leaving, [the city name] is just a short drive away. not just any city, this one’s got a reputation for neon-lit midnight markets. i tried to find it but got lost for 2 hours. asked a old woman for directions. she pointed to a random farm and said, "that’s where the real boss lives."
some reviews online say the city’s street art scene is dying. i saw a mural of a chicken wearing sunglasses. that’s art. that’s survival. i uploaded a pic of it to my instagram. it’s currently getting 12 likes from people who’ve never left their apartments.
the weather guy said it’s going to be 29.01 all day. same as the min and max. i’m starting to think this is a metaphor. maybe for stagnation? or maybe i’m just bad at math.
book a photo shoot with a local who knows all the hidden spots. i paid 50 bucks for a hour and got memories. hope they count.
"if you see a man selling shoes made of banana peels, he’s either a genius or a sadist," a drunk told me. i kept looking for that man. didn’t find him. probably got coal’d.
iâm a coffee snob now. not because i care, but because the local brew is so bad it’s a gift. tasted like regret and earth. someone said it’s because they boil the beans over a campfire. i didn’t ask. i’m not that curious.
the neighbors? well, the ones who live in the alley behind the market are يُحكم by a mystery. one night, i heard a fight. turned out it was a debate about whether pineapples are fruits or vegetables. i’ve never seen such passion.
if you’re into history, there’s a crater here that supposedly exploded 500 years ago. i didn’t go. too hot. too humid. too much. but a guy at the bar told me it’s now a wellness retreat. dubious. i’d rather faint.
find more chaos here. i’d post more links but my phone is acting up. it’s like the city’s Wi-Fi is judging me.
i took a photo of a bird perched on a tree with my phone. it looked like it was judging me. the image is on unsplash now. don’t ask why.
"this place is cursed," someone said. didn’t specify how. i’m starting to believe them. my left shoe keeps turning into a cactus.
i’m leaving tomorrow. probably. the temp’s still 29.01. maybe i’ll stay. just to see if the shoe-cactus thing happens again.
"dream big, write messy," said a yoga instructor i met. she was wearing a shirt that said "i survived the 2012 apocalypse." she might have been lying. but i’m taking it as advice.
You might also be interested in:
- https://votoris.com/post/woke-up-in-porto-with-humidity-clinging-like-cheap-perfume
- https://votoris.com/post/seasonal-weather-in-santiago-what-to-expect-throughout-the-year-and-where-to-hide
- https://votoris.com/post/midnight-wanderings-in-busan
- https://votoris.com/post/durbans-sticky-secrets-a-sweatdrenched-diary
- https://votoris.com/post/lisbon-after-dark-a-messy-photo-diary