Childhood is the only kingdom where everything makes sense
When I think about where Aldi began, I always return to that day. The day when he arrived at Oma-Opa Haus.
Airport & Cow Cart
The airport was small, the kind where you stepped straight onto warm ground and were greeted not by signs but by people who knew someone you knew.
His parents had been struggling in the capital. Things were uncertain. Adults definitely didn't explain much back then, they just acted.
So they sent the children to Oma and Opa, trusting the village to hold what they couldn't.
Imagine being picked up at the airport by a cow cart or roda sapi, as we called it. A real one, wooden, loud, pulled by a cow that moved at its own pace.
illustration of the cow cart
It wasn't a joke, and it wasn't for show. Life was that simple back then and the cow cart said a lot about how things were in that village.
Most people at the airport recognized Oma. Being on a cow cart with her red shirt, blue pants and her big knitted hat. She definitely stole the show! Some waved, some laughed softly.
and that's the thing about small places, where everyone participates in your stories whether they mean to or not :)
Coming out from the arrival gate, Aldi, with his excited puppy eyes, ran straight to Oma on a cow cart. He was so thrilled. He climbed up as fast as he could, dragging his small suitcase. It was honestly very cute. He hugged Oma, thank her for making his dream come true.
So a bit of story, before this, Aldi didn't wanna come to the village because he didn't know what it would be like. On the phone, Oma and Opa would always said they had cows, and they traveled everywhere by cow cart. To him, it sounded magical, like a story that widened his imagination and made him want to visit them. That's how they got Aldi on the plane.
Without further ado, he asked if he could touch the rope, and sit in front, next to the Om (uncle) who drove the cart. Of course, that was an easy wish to grant.
The ride home was slow. The kind of slow that stays with you later in life when everything moves too fast.
Rice fields stretched out like a calm promise. Coconut trees leaned gently.
The breeze carried smoke from wood fires, grass, river water and something sweet you could never quite name.
Villagers moved through their routines with the patience of people who understood time differently.
Men led cows, stacked coconuts, sharpened tools.
Women gossiped at the warung, peeled shallots on their front porches, and restocked jars of rice crackers.
Children sprinted barefoot, chased by chickens who believed they were in charge.
Dogs slept under the shade, while cats watched everything.
It was far from a perfect place. But it was a steady one.
At Oma & Opa Haus
When they arrived, Opa was waiting with the kind of smile that only grandparents can give. Full, ready, uncomplicated.
His face carried the ocean with it. Deep lines, sun-baked skin, eyes that had seen too far. (spoiler: he was a sailor :P)
In the small, open-air kitchen with its traditional roof and eco-friendly materials, Ollie was busy preparing food for Aldi's arrival.
Ollie had been very young when she decided to work with Oma and Opa and she was so selfless that she practically dedicated her life to them and their grandchildren.
The kitchen was warm and smoky.
Corn rice simmered inside a big pot on the wood-fire stove. The flames cracked, the wood popped.
The smell of cakalang suwir, smoky and spiced, filled the house as she transferred it onto a flowery patterned stainless steel plate.
She also made kuah asang, tangy from tomatoes, fragrant from ikan roa, and full of flavor from mixed rampa-rampa. The soup that is very familiar. Warm and comforting, was served in a typical rooster chicken bowl.
Aldi ate with the hunger of a child who had finally arrived somewhere he understood without needing words.
Ollie and Oma enjoyed watching him eating, there's this hidden joy when the kids love and eating the food with passion.
After eating, he went straight outside with the sisters.
No shoes, no hesitation.
He climbed the small rambutan tree, the ones that Oma allowed him to climb. They splashed in the river, ran across rice fields and then followed Opa into the rice mill, eager to be helpful even if he barely carried any weight.
In his head, tomorrow didn't exist yet. He was simply enjoying every minute with them. The kind of time you can't ever buy back.
Unchained Melody
At night, after the house calmed down, Oma and Opa sat in the living room with the old radio. The kind that hummed before it played music. That night, Unchained Melody played on the radio.
The sound slightly staticky but warm, accompanied by the chorus of crickets outside.
Opa leaned back, eyes half closed.
Oma folded clothes. The fan kept clicking softly. Everything felt safe then. Safe in a way you only understand years later when you realize how rare that kind of safety is.
Aldi didn't know yet, but this was the softest chapter of his life. And everything after would be measured against it.
...to be continued...