“Ada Sayur?” I ask, “how about some vegetables?” I pretend that I have understood the conversation. I am pleased with my use of sayur, which I just learned that morning. My tongue rolls the r, which in Bahasa sounds exactly like the Spanish r, which as a California boy I know, only more prolonged. I not unintentionally flutter the Spanish r further.
“Tidak, Pak. Kami hanya punya gambing saja,” says the boy now with three other workers looking in at the foreigner, who will not listen. “No vegetables, sir. We only serve goat in this place.”
Recognizing “tidak”, I say, “Ok, then we’ll take the chicken soup and some fried rice, please.” “Baik, kami aka mengambil sop ayam dan nasi goring. Terima kasih.” I feel like the conversation is going really well. I chuckle how Indonesians love their chicken soup and fried rice which can pretty much be gotten anywhere. Damn if learning this new language will bring this man down!
“Sir, we don’t serve chicken. Only goat. And we have steamed rice nothing fried. For that you can get next door,” says the boy pointing to the adjacent stand.
“Biak,” I say looking to where he is asking Seongeun and I to sit, “Dan beberapa teh es and air botel juga.” “Great, and we’ll some ice tea and some water too.”