At 8:30 in the morning, my husband and I dropped our eldest off at campus. No rush, no drama. Just the quiet efficiency of parents doing what needs to be done. From there, without much ceremony, we continued driving to Bandung. Breakfast was simple: boiled eggs and fruit pudding from Mbak Eva yesterday.
Around 10, we stopped at the first rest area. I suddenly craved tahu bulat. No particular reason. Just one of those very specific cravings that arrives unannounced and insists on being fulfilled. Unfortunately, none were there. We moved on.
Thirty minutes later, the second rest area delivered. Tahu bulat at last. A small, silly joy. We added Kopi Kenangan to keep ourselves awake, though in the excitement I forgot one very basic thing. I needed to pee. So yes, we stopped again at the third rest area at 11.
Right in front of the restroom stood a singer with a surprisingly beautiful voice. I paused for a moment and gave a small donation. Some things deserve appreciation, even when you are just passing through.
By 12:30, hunger had fully taken over, and we arrived at our first real stop. Sate Kambing and Thengkleng Rica Pak Manto, the Bandung branch. We ordered a portion of plain fried rice to share, which turned out to be enormous. Thankfully, sharing saved us. We added ten skewers of goat satay mixed with liver. It was good, satisfying, though still not quite beating our trusted Pak To in Jagakarsa. For drinks, we shared one fresh coconut served in its shell, plus white crackers on the side. The total was 115 thousand rupiah. Fair enough.
I didn’t choose the place for aesthetics or trendiness. Simply because right next door was Roger’s Salon. The plan was simple. Lunch, then a salon visit. But plans are fragile things. Suddenly, the rain came down hard, with fierce wind to match. The kind of rain that laughs at umbrellas and promises to soak you completely anyway. I waited, hoping it would ease. It didn’t. Almost an hour passed, and we still needed to continue our journey. I apologized to the salon admin via whatsapp, said maybe next time, and we left.
We drove on through lighter rain, though the roads of Bandung had begun to flood. At one traffic light, the water was high enough that our Tesla felt like it might drown. The car swayed every time another vehicle passed. My heart followed the movement. The battery sits underneath, after all. Thankfully, we made it through. No damage, no disaster. Just relief.
At exactly 2 pm, we arrived at our hotel, Ibis Trans Studio Bandung. The room wasn’t ready yet, so we left our luggage. My husband went off to find a charging station for the car. I finally went to the salon, this time at Headquarter, inside the mall.
I always trust Headquarter. Their service matches my standards, quietly and consistently. Hair washing there is never rushed. It comes with a proper head massage, and the cleaning is thorough. Afterward, they dry the scalp first, not the hair, because that’s what actually prevents limp hair later. Tonic and vitamin are included, no extra charge. The blow-dry result lasts beautifully even without hairspray. All of that, and the whole process takes just around thirty minutes. Efficient and satisfying.
With time to spare, I wandered into Uniqlo next door. I found a broken-size black bra that turned out to be incredibly comfortable, and a red top that also functions as a bra, which I instantly loved. Both were discounted. Total spending stayed under 500 thousand rupiah, exactly my monthly Uniqlo limit. Paid using passive income from one of my government bonds. A small private victory.
Back at the hotel, my husband was already in the room. One of our unspoken travel rituals is an afternoon nap after check-in. We rest, then only go out again for dinner. Sleeping while rain falls outside has its own quiet magic.
At 6:30 pm, we met Mas Teja at Trans Studio Mall. The initial plan was Giggle Box, but it had already closed. We ended up at Marugame Udon instead. Not long after, Mbak Assry arrived with her child. My husband sat chatting with Mas Teja, while I talked with Mbak Assry at a nearby table.
We exchanged life updates, reflecting on 2025. A year that feels intense and transformative, like a snake shedding its skin. Heavy struggles, deep changes, and unexpected growth. Time slipped by unnoticed. Two hours passed quickly, until Mbak Assry’s child asked to go home, and another child was already calling from home.
At 8:30 pm, we took photos together before parting ways. They returned to their homes. My husband and I went back to the hotel.
It was a day layered with movement, tension, relief, indulgence, rain, laughter, and conversations that carried the weight of a transforming year. Plans shifted, roads tested us, and time stretched in unexpected ways, yet everything found its place by nightfall.
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