Hello Stranger (part 4) : Kota Kinabalu, Borneo
There’s something romantic about places one never set foot before. It’s enigmatic charm and the strangeness of everything about it is so stimulating. Like the local food for example, no matter how simple a nasi goreng was cooked, it is amazingly arousing like an aphrodesiac, titilating and heightening one’s senses.
It was a humid night, when Monette decided to wander on her own, I found a new entertaining hobby of zapping mosquitos using an electronic device that resembles a tennis racket. It was surprisingly cathartic, or, was I just diverting my suppressed sexual tension to a subject of displacement? The uninterruptible trance (autistic kind of way) was shattered when somebody approached me, a local.
“Hi! You, guest, yah?” (giving me a big smile)
“Hello…. I am sorry this is retarded, but this is so addicting!”
“I am actually subconsciously psyching-up myself that I shouldn’t gain weight and start to believe in law of invariant mass… That is when the system as a whole is at rest, the invariant mass is equal to the total energy of the system divided by c2, which is equal to the mass of the system as measured on a scale.”
“Sorry that was too geeky, In layman’s term… I better keep moving to stay in shape, do you agree?”
“Oh crap! you don’t speak english, do you?”
“You… work… in the hostel?”
“Oh yeah! I think I saw you this morning! The scrambled egg was wicked! as in ughh WICKED! with a capital ughh”
“you, want, motorbike?”
“You mean you want me to go with you for a ride on your bike?”
“That would be cool!”
So we hopped on and strolled around the town. After a whole day of walking, speeding on the streets on that yamaha bike, the warm fresh air battering my face and the vibrating seat of the vehicle felt like a mild relaxing massage. But after several minutes, I gave up trying to sustain a conversation, because we couldn’t understand each other. It could be the noise of the humming motorcycle or the fact that we were speaking two different languages, nevertheless it was like a lullaby swaying me to a deep lethargy.
The momentary hypnosis was broken when a different warm sensation knocked me off the seat. I felt burning, inside my torso. No it’s not UTI. There was an unintentional touching, then bumping and rubbing on “that” part. I initially just ignored it because it could be accidental… but it happened again. And again.
“OK That’s it! Do you have a place?”
That was the unused invariant energy speaking. Wanting to be expended, badly. We went to a secret place in the hostel and I quickly got in to the action.
“Shhh, quiet! I don’t understand a single word that you’re saying, so you may just want to keep it to your self! OK?”
“Shhh, Not that I don’t like it, dirty talk is kink–sexy! But people are sleeping they might hear us!”
“Don’t force me to stuff a loofa in your mouth, I told you I don’t speak… elvish!”
Then it hit me…
“Wait… How old are you?”
“EIGH…. you–you’re f**king eighteen?! Oh Sh**!! you’re barely legal!”
“is OK! is OK!”
“I know it’s OK! You’re hot! Don’t get me wrong! but you might just be pretending to be eighteen while in fact you’re a jailbait”
“is OK! is OK!”
I swear to Paris Hilton’s grave, right there and then, I wanted to get a piece of paper for us to sign a mutual consent!
The one thing I realized with this whole experience, is that the surreal taste of nasi goreng is so beautiful, there’s something about its flavor that even though your taste buds could not identify the ingredients, the taste will lift you to different heights. As to foreign language is so enchanting, specially when used in intimate instances, like a poem teasing your ears, like a song dramatically transitioning one’s excitement, from fortissimo to crescendo and eventually to a glorious climax.