"Why tell me why did you not treat me right
Love has a nasty habit of disappearing overnight"
-"I'm Looking Through You", Beatles
When I tell the travel agent I've come to pick up my refund for a flight Yeni and I booked but didn't make out of Maumere, she says, "Oh yes, but your friend call and say it is his."
"What?!?!" I am incredulous.
"Yes, he call last week to see when it will be ready and he call today to say he will pick it up. He say he pay you and the money his."
There are no distinguishing pronouns in Bahasa, everyone and everything is simply "it", so when Indonesians speak English they generally use the pronoun he. But I know instantly who she means.
"No," I say as calmly as I can. "I paid for the tickets, with my Mastercard." I pull out my card and place it in front of her. "I have waited over a month for this money, it is my money, and I will take it home."
We argue about it for nearly an hour. I leave, eventually, with my money.But I have lost my patience. I have lost any desire to understand or appreciate Indonesian culture or its people. From now on I am only biding my time for the sake of my students and my CV.
A quiet disdain and loathing takes over, a malaise settles over me like a rolling fog. I do nothing to check it.
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