The Blue Are Coming

I wake to Fajar – the first call to prayer. I’m not Muslim, or even religious. Yet the muezzin’s cries rouse me from bed. I walk onto the balcony and check the weather. Light rain.

There are more calls now – from different mosques in different directions. While the words are the same, pitch and tempo are not. Some growl in a mid bass while others reach a frantic tenor. There are five calls to prayer every day. Nearly all mosques use loudspeakers to get the word out. The calls are usually not live, but recordings of muezzins from around the world.

The enchanting discord lasts a few minutes until one-by-one the calls fade. I go inside to get dressed.

I’m a bit of a freak when it comes to my running kit. It all has to match. I choose shorts in a solid teal and a heather teal shirt with the Green Bank Observatory logo. The socks are teal, too. My Altra runners are grey, but with teal highlights. Told you I’m a freak.

After a quick glass of water, I’m ready to go. Coffee and breakfast can wait.

I grab my eyeglasses, lobby entry card, and house key. Most entry doorlocks in Indonesia use a key for both sides. A couple of turns to the left unlock the door from the inside. A couple of turns to the left from the outside lock it again.

There are three lifts. I always choose the rightmost one. The others play adverts on a large LCD next to the door; audio makes them even more annoying. Yet my lift of choice is too narrow for a screen and the ads that come with it. It’s also the dumpiest of the three. The thin woodish panels are delaminating; the overhead fan chugs like a Harley. I push the first floor button and the door closes painfully slow.

There isn’t a fourth or thirteenth floor in this tower or the others. “Four” sounds like the word for “death” in Mandarin, Cantonese, and a few other Asian languages. “Thirteen” is unlucky in many Western cultures.

The lift starts moving with a thunk. It grunts and bangs as I descend from the ninth floor. I don’t know how long ago it was last inspected. Yet if the worst happens, an eight-story fall in a metal box is a fair trade for an ad-free experience on the way down.

Somewhere around the sixth floor I realize my running shorts are on backwards. Ugh. I really don’t want to go back upstairs. I think about – and quickly dismiss – the idea of a quick switch in the ten seconds before the door opens. I don’t see a camera (and if there is, it probably doesn’t work). Yet if I fumble and arrive on the first floor bottomless, they’ll be some ‘splainin to do.

This is going to be a hell of a run.

I reach the ground floor fully dressed and well below terminal velocity. I wave my hand in front of the Covid-inspired proximity button, and the lobby door unlocks with a click. I walk through the lobby past a new laundry service on the right. I hope it’s better than the last one I used. On the left is a tiny Buddhist temple. You have to remove your footwear to go in. I like the burning incense even though it smells like a funeral.

I go outside, and am greeted by the security guard…

“Selamat pagi.” Good morning.

“Selamat pagi. Ada hujan, wah.” Good morning. It’s raining, wah.

“Grimis aja.” Just a drizzle.

I go into the just a drizzle and start my run. Each trip around the tower complex is 0.45 miles. Seven rounds give me 3.15 miles – just a tick over five kilometers. I run the route counterclockwise.

On the way out of Tower C, I do a time check at the parking garage pay station. It’s 04:52:24. Most of the stations have a blue LED border. This one’s broken and I hope it stays that way. Blue is my favorite color but the short wavelength is murder on the eyes under predawn light.

I pound pavement only fifty feet or so before hitting a brick path. It quickly leads to the Club House. There’s a Korean restaurant and an Indomaret convenience store on the ground floor. Meetings and whatnot are also held in the Club House. A friend of mine goes to a Christian service in the small function room every Sunday. She once invited me to join her even though I’m not Christian. The sermon was bracketed by live music at the start and finish. The vocals were drowned out by the synthesizer and the guitar was totally lost in the mix. They really need a good sound tech.

The Club House is hosting a bazaar for Ramadan. Only two of the ten tables have been rented – both by food sellers. I hope more vendors show up before it’s over.

A short brick walkway leads to the Katolik outdoor prayer space; a statue of Mother Mary stands at the end. Her likeness is both uncharacteristically old and pale given when and where she lived. The roman nose belies her semitic heritage, as well.

I turn right to cross the road and run past the water fountain. It hasn’t worked in two years.

I’m back on the bricks headed toward the entrance of the tower complex. I reach Tower F where the Marketing Office is. There’s a window sign advertising Doktor Gigi through the glass. Her name isn’t Gigi but she is a doctor. “Gigi” means “tooth” – so a dentist, specifically.

I reach the Tower F parking garage exit and hear the kelak kelak of a car driving over the drainage grate at the bottom of the ramp. I stop and wait so it doesn’t squash me. A diesel Toyota Fortuner clatters past. The large SUV is nice to ride in, but not run behind. I inhale the exhaust and subtract fifteen minutes from my lifespan.

I run beneath a pergola to Tower G. Local greenery weaves among the teak planks and wire mesh. A few stray cats hang around the front entrance hoping for handouts. I see one and it sees me. I keep on running and it just looks miffed.

The Fortuner is at the exit ahead of me. The driver lowers his window to use the parking debit card reader. A synthetic voice greets the driver. “Silahkan tembelkan kartu.” Please tap card. So that’s what he does. The driver already paid as he exited the parking garage, so he doesn’t have to pay here. As the drawbar goes up, the voice politely urges the driver off. “Terimah Kasih. Selamat Jalan. Terimah Kasih. Selamat Jalan.” Thank you. Safe travels. Thank you. Safe travels.

I take a left just before the exit and pass the dual EV charging station. A BYD M6 is parked in one space. It’s a three-row EV that’s popular with families. Although the rearmost seat is really only for kids. The other space is taken by a BYD Atto 1. This one’s a subcompact city car with a top speed of 57mph. It costs only about 12,000 dollars US (if you could get one in the US), so I don’t judge it harshly.

I’m now on the brick path circling around the back of towers G and F. There’s a basketball half court on the right. It has a hoop but no net. I’ve never seen anyone use it.

Just after the court is the motorcycle parking area. Motorcycles are massively popular in Indonesia. They do much better than automobiles in the brutal Jakarta traffic. They’re also cheaper to register and insure.

I pass a small outbuilding on the right. There are two rooms, with a gated entrance to each. The left one is locked. Last year I took a peek in there before it had been secured. I found building supplies, tools, and a bag full of school textbooks. One of them was a Korean to Bahasa Indonesia primer. It’s never too late to learn.

Someone – or several someones – use the room on the right. There’s an old bedframe inside with a mattress and blankets on top. Shirts and pants hang from a simple clothesline. A bucket and bottle of detergent facilitate hand laundering. Plastic drawers and a large plastic bag filled with clothes round out the living space.

I slow down when I reach the tiny playground. Not to see children play (it’s way too early for that), but because the walkway in this section is pebbled asphalt. The marble-sized stones might as well be real marbles in the morning rain. Running on these would guarantee a fall and a trip to the hospital. Good thing there’s one next door. The blinking red light and “IGD” – Instalasi Gawat Darurat (Emergency Room) sign are clearly visible over the wall. I hate hospitals, so I walk the next 125 feet or so and cross the road to another brick path.

I pass the empty tennis courts. Nobody’s dumb enough to run around on a wet surface in the dark. Except me.

The large cement pots on the side of Tower A have seen better days. The flora inside should’ve been transplanted a long time ago. Instead of getting rootbound, they broke the pots they were in.

A dog barks at me from one of the lower floors. Maybe it’s jealous coz I’m running and it isn’t.

I go around the front of Tower A. There’s a laundry service on the left side of the lobby. I can’t recommend it. The second (and last) time I used them, a pair of my shorts went missing. However, I got two pairs of men’s underwear in exchange. If the same guy wound up with my shorts he probably wore them commando.

I go under another pergola to Tower B. Not much going on inside, but there’s an area across the road to wash your car or motorcycle. It’s three parking spaces with a water hose and bucket in the middle one. A food seller parks his three-wheel mini-truck in one of the spaces every evening. It’s mostly vegetables and eggs, but sometimes he sells other things I’m not brave enough to try.

The brick path from towers B and C is always slicker that the others when it rains. I’m not sure why – maybe because it’s on the south side? I pass a sign Batas Kecepatan 20kph. Speed limit 20kph. I’m in no danger of breaking it even if the bricks had a higher coefficient of friction.

I smell fried noodles in the back of Tower B. Maybe if I ask nicely they’ll invite me to breakfast. If that isn’t enough, someone in a side apartment of Tower C is making shiomai. I was told she sells it at a food stall. I don’t like shiomai, yet the smell is beginning to make me regret the decision to postpone my morning meal.

I go around to the front of Tower C, back where I started. My leg snags an errant thorny vine. Ouch. I do another time check. My pace is so bad, I’m not going to tell you. The rain is picking up but I’ve six more rounds to go.

On the path behind towers F and G, I come up behind a woman power walking. She’s in a jilbab (headscarf), and loose-fitting modestwear. We’ve talked before, so I greet her with “Selamat Pagi.” However, I barely get out “Sela” before she jumps in surprise. I guess she didn’t hear me coming through the rain-dampened cloth.

I’ve a knack for scaring people. One morning last year, I greeted a Korean jogger with “Annyong”, and she really jumped. I’ve not seen her since. Maybe she hasn’t landed yet.

Anyhoo… Aditska recovers and asks if I want to walk with her. I wasn’t going to break any records with my pace, so I accept. She tells me her husband passed away a few months ago. I offer my sympathy and ask if she’s doing okay. She says she’s feeling better – then tells me how good and generous her husband was. It’s unfortunate I never met him.

We walk past Tower A, but the dog doesn’t bark this time. I guess it was the running.

On our next circuit, she asks what I think about the situation in the US right now. I know what she means, so I tell her I didn’t vote for the current president and do not agree with his policies. This opens the floodgates. Aditsika lets me know exactly how she feels.

After nearly two rounds together, she leaves me for her apartamen in Tower F. Most residences in the complex are owned, so it’s likely a condominium. Aditiska says she hopes to see me again. I hope she doesn’t see my shorts are backwards.

I’m running again, and pass the front of Tower G. The charging station is empty now. I slow down on the other side of the tower and catch up to two people who walk very slowly. The brick path is a little more than three feet across, making it difficult to pass without stepping into the mud on either side. I’ve scared enough people this morning, so I say nothing and walk behind them over the bricks and then the slippery pebbles behind Tower F. I’m able to run past as I cross the road.

The dog barks as I pass Tower A. Definitely the running.

I skid a bit on the I-still-don’t-know-why-they’re-more-slippery bricks between towers B and C.

I stop briefly in front of Tower C to move that stupid vine so it won’t get me again. And prick my finger. Ouch. Three more rounds to go.

There’s a Neta V hatchback at the charging station. You don’t want one. The front occupant’s knees make up part of the forward crumple zone. The car is so unsafe in a crash that it’s blacklisted by Grab, the largest rideshare in Indonesia.

The walkway lighting goes out as I run past the tennis courts. Apparently, they’re not on a photosensor. Someone needs to reset the timer.

The dog doesn’t bark this time. I hope the owner is feeding it, and not letting it out. I’m pretty sure canine low-light vision is better than mine. So I don’t want to run into a hungry dog on a darkened walkway.

The rain is heavy now, so I take off my eyeglasses. My shoes slap-slap-slap-slap on the slick bricks between towers B and C. Grimis aja my ass.

I run past the broken fountain. At least there’s water in it now. I’ve a little less than two rounds to go.

I splash through the bricks behind the chargers. The cloudy sky is a deep dark blue, but a grey dawn is coming. The emergency entrance has already shut off its red night lighting. I walk carefully on the marble-stones because I still don’t like hospitals.

The dog is barking again. I hope it enjoyed breakfast enough where it doesn’t want me for dessert.

I round tower A and hear pigeons waking up. Their songs are more… exotic than what I’d hear in North America. Instead of cooing, Indonesian pigeons make a soft trill. It’s relaxing to listen to while the slippery bricks try to kill me.

It’s getting brighter as I pass Tower C. Last round.

My shoes make squishy sounds as I pass Towers F. It’s Ramadan, so Aditska has likely started her daily fast. I hope she had a good breakfast.

There’s a schoolboy waiting in front of Tower G for a taxi or some other driver. He sits cross-legged and is hunched over a mobile phone on the tile platform next to the stairs. The tinny arcade sounds inform me that he’s playing the latest Candy Crush knockoff. His blank expression informs me that smartphone torpor is universal.

Both charging stations are occupied now. I can’t see what type of cars are there without my glasses.

Muddy water starts to creep onto the walkway behind Towers G and F. I don’t think mothers will let their kids use the playground this morning. The pebbled walkway is downright suicidal.

I run past the tennis courts, barking dog, and speed limit sign for the last time before reaching Tower C. I wipe my shoes on the carpet as I enter the lobby. I use my keycard to access the lifts. Of course I take the dumpy one. The lift grunts disapproval on the way up as my clothes drip water onto the floor.

I need a shower. You think I wouldn’t with the morning weather, yet my skin is salty beneath wet clothes. My shoes have kicked up mud and other debris onto my calves, as well.

Maybe I’ll bring some soap to my next run in the rain.