A Slow Recovery in Bekasi
On January 4th in Bekasi, I finally began to feel better after days of food poisoning. I had slept almost the entire day, and by evening, I had just enough energy to step outside.
Even though it was already night, I wanted to see the city. The streets of Bekasi were quiet, almost eerie in their stillness. Yet when I greeted people with a simple "Hi," they always returned my smile with warmth. That small exchange gave me courage to keep walking.
First Solid Meal After Illness
Since the food poisoning, I hadn't eaten any solid food. That night, I decided to try eating again at a nearby food stall. The menu was limited—mostly Nasi Goreng, which I couldn't even think about touching. Just the thought of fried rice triggered alarms in my body.
So I chose only Ayam (chicken). While waiting, I began chatting with a boy nearby. I told him about my food poisoning, and somehow we became friends.
He pulled me into his world, making me sit with him for nearly twenty minutes while he watched Indonesian anime. Sharing that moment with him made me laugh. When children open up, their parents soon follow. Meeting him made me feel closer to the community, and I thought to myself, maybe I'll come back here someday.
A Stranger in Their Territory
It struck me—here I was, a foreigner walking alone through their neighborhood at nearly 10 p.m. Normally, people might feel uneasy about a stranger in their space at such an hour. But within five minutes of talking, we were laughing together as if we had known each other for years.
Hidden Bekasi at Night
Later, I wandered into a deeper part of the city, a district known locally for its nightlife. I spoke with several women there. Some told me they were working to save money, not just for survival, but to pursue dreams—one even said her goal was to go to Japan.
These were young women, driven not by desperation but by determination to build their own future. Their honesty left a strong impression on me. We became friends, and they recommended places I should visit in the area.
To my surprise, many of the people I met spoke some Japanese or expressed affection for Japan. Their words made me feel unexpectedly welcomed.
And their number one recommendation? Takoyaki. They laughed as they told me I had to try it here. Apparently, they can even make it themselves. Hearing that made me smile—it was a reminder of how cultures blend in the most unexpected corners of the world.
