Day Two

So begins the second day of my search for an apartment. I'm starting with a latte at Starbucks. 

Last night, I called several places that were advertised, only to be told that they don't actually exist. Or rather, that they weren't actually available. There is one place just across the street from where I now live, so I called that number and was told that they have no units available. I thanked them for their reply, said that I had admired their place from the outside, and apologized for my bad Indonesian, explaining that I am a bule. To this, I received a reply saying Oh, actually, we do have an open spot, available on the second of March. Not sure what to think of that. Is it not strange that they had no spot, period, before I stated that I am a bule? 

I drove to a nearby place last night, but the building, just erected perhaps a year ago, seemed already rather sad and rundown. So scratch that one. 

I have now employed, so to speak, two friends in my cause--Iadi, by buddy here at Starbucks, and Betty, the woman who does my immigration paperwork year after year. 

I must admit, I am rather easily stressed and frustrated by things like this.  I would really rather be a tree, long grown, with roots imperviously planted in some eternal patch of unbothered earth. I hate being a leaf flying about in the wind. 

"Don't be frustrated," Betty says. "There are plenty of places. Be patient." 

Iadi puts it this way: "It (apartment hunting) seems like find the girl, brother. Looks so easy, but you must never give up. Ha-ha.

"Susah-susah, gampang".