It was one of our favorite things to do on the weekend. We’d hop in our Kijang and head up the mountain. We would drive through Getasan and before reaching Kopeng we’d turn off and head up the road for Telomoyo. We went all the way to the top, admire the view and breathe crisp air. Then we’d come back another way, squeezing through the vegetable market. The hubby drove and the babe sat snuggled against me in a selendang, bright serious blue eyes and whitish blonde hair. I can almost see the cooler mountain breeze whipping at his tufts of hair through the open window. Through the tiny villages, we slowly puttered, certainly seeing life as it had been for hundreds of years. At the time, almost twenty years ago, life was still unhurried and simple. We passed men and women farmers carrying heavy loads on their heads, grandmas with few teeth hunched over, sweeping the dry dusty courtyards. Children, little children, were running in play on the road which was only wide enough for one car. I remember the day they caught sight of him and shrieked, “Cina! Cina!” (pronounced “Chee-nah”- meaning “Chinese”). When curious eyes caught sight of the pale blonde hair they became transfixed, staring at this sight which they had possibly never seen.
I remember other rides–to Solo, Semarang, Pacitan and Yogya. I remember the short spell (thankfully!) that both big boys experienced bouts of carsickness when traveling. I also remember the few times when we drove the length of the United States. The boys were young and watched lots of movies, often missing out on the scenery along the long roads from Washington, to Iowa, to Indiana, to Maryland and back. We stopped places along the way- Little Bighorn, Yellowstone, Mt. Rushmore, the Badlands, the Corn Palace, and Gettysburg. Lots of hours. Lots of moments—both good and bad. Lots of traffic, lots of lessons, lots of memories, lots of laughter and plenty of tears.
In Malaysia, we’ve driven around less. Work and activities have kept us so much busier and it wasn’t easy to just hop in the car and get off the island. Any traveling we did was with a vacation destination in mind, during a longer break. A short jaunt just for the sake of exploring has been rare. Then COVID came and travel stopped. Stopped still. We had to stay home all the time. We’re going to try this weekend–hopping in the car for one last family excursion. This will be the last one for a while the thought of that makes my heart ache. I wish I could make the day pass by in slow motion, but I can’t. For then—the next road trip, in just a short week, will be to the airport—for “goodbye”.
sharonbernhardt 