Travel note: Umroh

Last week I took a one-week trip to Mecca and Medinah in Saudi Arabia to do what the Moslem called Umroh. Coincidently, I went at the start of fasting month of Ramadhan. There are so many things I want to share with you, but I have to choose. Otherwise, I will bore you to death with the details.

The word “umroh” means “to enrich one’s soul”. Every single ritual we do during Umroh is full of symbols that lead to enriching our soul. So there I was. Trying to enrich my soul. To find the peace that is often lost in the midst of my everyday life. To rediscover my faith. To talk to God. To talk WITH God.

I brought my usual prayer book. But without meaning to be arrogant, I found that it was more suitable for me to just say what I want to say with no help from any book. Just say it with my own words, from the bottom of my heart, directly to Him, as frequently as I can.

The most solemn times were the middle of the nights where I walked around ka’bah by myself. I did not even have any specific prayer or wishes, except to communicate with God, to renew my promise to always be in His Godly environment, and if I may, to be one with God. I did not have a specific prayer. I did not have to. He knows.

And how I love being there during the fasting month of Ramadhan. You should see how packed the mosques were at any time of the day. You should see how people sitting side by side regardless of their socio-economic status or their origins.

You should see how people gather to break their fast, and they always bring more food than they need – to share with others. I came to the mosque with nothing but water and I ended up with a handful of dates, yogurt, Arabic coffee and a huge chunk of bread. How beautiful is the spirit of sharing. Love it to bits.

Of course, there are still a lot to be learned. I still need to find my balance. Compared to other people, I shopped less and I have very few interests in the city tours that we did or with the lengthened chitchat. I just wanted to focus on my prayers and invocations. I was worried whether my comfort with being alone with God was getting too far.

I also have lost my temper a couple of times. I still could not stand people being too laid back about schedule and appointments – I find it disrespectful to other people. I still could not hold myself from protesting of whatever I think is unfair or unprofessional (based on my perfectionist standard).

But all in all, it was truly a worthwhile experience. This was the third time I went to Mecca. This time it does feel different. A friend whom I met during the umroh asked whether I have found what I came for. I would gladly say yes. Now I need to keep my promise to God: to always be in His Godly environment.

Thank you God, for everything, for always. You are indeed very kind.

PS: I traveled with Quraish Shihab and took some short notes of his speech. Those of you who want to read the note, please e-mail me so that I can e-mail it to you.

Home at last – thank you, Spain

I am home at last in Jakarta.

When my aircraft was taking off from Madrid airport, my sister asked whether I wanted to say goodbye to Spain. I said no because I am returning here someday. After a short pause, I added, “but I do want to say ‘thank you’ to Spain. Thanks for all the experience and lessons.” Not goodbye, but thank you.

The journey home itself was incredibly smooth. All the problems that I had projected did not turned into reality (fortunately) - the carrying of the luggage from the hotel to the car, the car itself, the check in process, the overload baggage and the complication with the immigration as well as the tax refund office.

I got teased a bit (by God, who else) though when my flight MAD-BKK was delayed. We did not know whether we would be able to make it for our connecting flight. We did at last but barely. We were among the last passengers to board the aircraft and it was already a last call. It was too close for my liking. I was about to lose my temper but then I managed to return to my “oh well” state. A taste of what is to come.

Then home at last. My brothers, sister, nieces, nephews, etc welcomed us home – not sure whether my nieces and nephews were more excited about us going home or about getting their presents. They made a banner for my sis (their mom) “welcome mommy”. They quarrel about who gets the best present. Jakarta is still with its traffic jam and lack of discipline among the drivers. My cat is still as fat and lazy as ever. There was a lot of interchange of SMS with friends. I started to work out whom I should meet and when. Nothing has changed much. It feels like the home that I know.

Spain was a training ground for me. It was a bit like – but on a much smaller and insignificant scale – a hermit monk in his monastery. Now it is time to practice what I have learned so far.

There was no goodbye to Spain. Only thank you.

PS: book read during the journey home: The pilgrimage by Paul Coelho. Recommended.