The Princesses


It’s been years since I called my friend, AK as Princess AK. It was of course an over-friendly remark that I made since I know that she WAS actually an equivalent of a princess or at least a duchess in real life. I wouldn’t be surprise if someone tells me that she’s actually related to some really important figures; even, it would make sense since her personal life is very mysterious as well. But luckily for AK, I am not going to pursue this… not today.

“DisneyPrincessLineup2013” by Source (WP:NFCC#4). Licensed under Fair use via Wikipedia –

AK always protested every time I called her Princess, or referred her as Princess AK in my blog. Obviously because she did not think she was one, OR she’s just trying to hard to convince me that she isn’t one. But I liked teasing her about this.

But anyway, I just realised that Mr. Fix-It called me princess too >_< . Something that I definitely am not used to. I suspected that there must be a little bit of cultural gap there, because I was definitely not a princess. In fact I was incredibly down to earth, that sometimes I shortened my name from Bybyq to just Byq.

See how down to earth, easy to approach– kind of person I am. I could not understand how could he get the idea that I was a princess? That was surreal.

Of course, like Princess AK, I deliver my protest. I told him that I was not a princess. I was alone in a foreign country without any bodyguard following me to make sure of my safety; no nanny following around to make sure that I was well fed; no chef to cook my dinner; no chauffeur to take me around in a private limo. I was just an Indonesian girl strayed in a little fine city called Norwich… and that’s all.

He laughed when I gave that argument. Not the kind of happy, or amused kind of laugh, but a little bit patronising.

“But you had them when you were in Indonesia.”

I hate him.

It reminded me why I called Princess AK that way. *flashback* *black and white photos, film rolling noise in the background*

We were still young and free — but cynical nonetheless, and we were studying … you know where. I had my little red pepita (yes, I named my car), and Princess AK had her own car with a designated plate number and a personal chauffeur. I think one day we planned on going somewhere to do something (come on, that’s not the important details anyway), but we planned on doing it on weekends a.k.a not school days. She said that I would need to give a specific time so she could book the chauffeur.

So I asked whether she could drive — she had her own car, with a designated plate! She said she could. So, naturally I asked her why didn’t she just drive.

She told me her parents wouldn’t let her so.

I laughed, maybe the same kind of laugh Mr. Fix-It did at me. Not a spiteful mockery laugh, just… annoyingly patronising. (SORRY, Princess AK >_<) *flashback done* *back to reality*

I have been away from home since 2003, when I entered that architecture school. It means I have not been living with my parents for more than a decade. Sometimes I just forget that I have developed different personality, and habits my parents do. I like waking up late, my parents hate it. I like spending time alone, my parents embrace family time. I don’t like eating in the bedroom, my parents have piles of snacks in theirs.

When I lived with them for months before I went back here for good with Mr. Fix-It, I felt like a misfit. I needed to adjust with the heat, I needed to adjust with someone entered my room and moved my personal belongings while cleaning it, I needed to cope with not being able to choose what I want to eat. It was horrible. But scarily enough, I got used to it.

It was as if my brain retains some of the things I had as routine when I was a child. I started to feel fine not to have an option for dinner, or where to go, or even to choose what I want to do in the weekends. I started to feel fine not to be able to pick the entertainment program, TV channel, when to go to sleep, when to wake up. I started to forget how to take control.

I spent years to learn how to take control, and months at home I just… lose the ability again?

That’s horrible.

So when I was confronted with this fact, I realised that my husband might be right. Maybe I was a princess… Maybe I was a princess the way Princess AK was a princess. Maybe we ARE still princesses.

Hell, that’s confusing…


2 responses »

  1. I think many Indonesian children are indeed princes or princesses, for it is easy to find a nanny with cheap pay. Cheaper than if you have to pay for daycare in most western countries. Often I refer the children to spoiled brats . . Not a good term, I know, but some of them are really annoying brats.

    I didn’t grow up with a nanny to look for me. But I had the best nanny that I could ever wish for, my Granny.

    For me, all those things you mentioned in your post, Byq, is something I call “being home”. To feel and experience all the things that we don’t when we have to live by ourselves or far away from family. Sure, it feels weird and we need to adjust with it from time to time. But somehow it feels good too.


    • Yes, to the ‘western’ standards, many Indonesian children are incredibly spoiled. I realised that the ‘western’ kids are spoiled in different ways by the ‘eastern’ standards (but that’s not the point) :p

      Anyway, I think in this case I cannot completely agree with you 😦 Unfortunately, after years and years living away from my parents, I can no longer feel my parents’ house as ‘a home’. Yes, I will be spoiled with convenience — would not have to think of paying the bill, food expenses, etc. But I don’t feel ‘home’, if you know what i mean. Maybe that’s why I almost never feel homesick >_<


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