The morning has been bright and warm. I played my usual hour of tennis—twice I crawled back from 0-40 down to win the game—and am now confronted with an unwilling internet. It must be the provider as none of the four, Internet Explorer, Chrome, Safari and Firefox, are able to get me on. The weather has turned, a spectacular thunderstorm and driving rain are cleaning the street of motorcycles and filling the gutters, too. Police sirens in the distance… not unusual in a city of this size.
The Friday routine of the area is quite likeable. Early morning at seven the school across the street is dragging the kids through their weekly morning exercise—satu-dua-tiga-empat…to eight, and then again and again. The sound system is turned up when the music accompanying the fitness exercises starts. The music is from various regions in Indonesia. This morning I heard for the first time a song from Papua, but I suspect that it has been composed fairly recently in a melodious effort of nation building.
Then at midday it was time for Friday prayers. About an hour before, Koran verses are read. In this part of town, Kebayoran Baru, the amplifiers are not turned up full and the reading is pleasant to listen to. One of these days I will make a recording for playback when no longer here. Could it be that in this very upper-middle class area inhabitants are conscious of potential sound pollution. Smaller mosques in less prosperous areas are turning the watts up till the speakers screech.
And then after the prayers the school holds a percussion class. From the sound of it I think they use traditional drums and tambourines. One of my boyhood wishes… to become a drummer. Never got past my father's objection, or maybe I didn't want it strongly enough.
It is now late afternoon and the light is fading, even without the thunderstorm which has drifted over.
And today of course is Lonne's birthday. Happy Birthday, son.
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