Warung Water

As the water slowly drips off the sagging tarp, a bucket waits for it below. This might be necessary if we were indoors, but we aren‘t. It doesn’t surprise me though- there's no wasting things here in Indonesia, and this warung is no exception.

I step under the tarp, say hi to the vendor and check out the food displayed. This guy’s selling Sundanese food, and the dishes are laid out on a makeshift table. 3 kinds of fish, 4 chicken dishes, 5 different vegetables- with eggplant, potatoes and local veggies made in creative and tasty ways. The man grabs a plate of rice from the steamer, I tell him what I want, then sit down on one of the wooden benches surrounding the table, followed shortly by my food. I grab some of the fresh herbs laid out to accompany the food, spoon some sambal (sweet spicy ketchup) onto my plate and dig in. As I eat, the man brings me some sweet black tea, an Indonesian staple which comes with almost every meal, and it does well to wash down the savory food.

I look out towards busy Pajajaran street during a break from eating. A constant string of motorbikes whizzes by, the riders paying us no attention. We are in just one of dozens of small warungs that pop up at night along this street- a tree in a forest of food. I glance over again at the bucket catching the water off the tarp and let out a little laugh. Now I’m pretty sure the tea I’m drinking is made from that water, and he surely uses it to wash the dishes. Why not!? It’s clean and free.

I love how quick I can get and eat the food at these places. It’s no bullshit, no frills eating, my favorite. I can be out and on my way in 10 minutes if I want. Sometimes a friendly local might talk to me, trying out their English or to see how much Bahasa Indonesia I know, but most times Indonesians will leave the bule to his own devices. However, as with all the other times I stop at these roadside warungs to grab a bite to eat, I am the main attraction. People will steal a glance at me whenever possible, their curiosity getting the better of them. It feels like they’re analyzing me, waiting for me to give them a sign of how crazy I am, but of course it’s more innocent than that. The truth is I’m probably one of only a few bules that’s ever bothered to stop and eat there. For that I don’t know why, because the food is beautiful and cheap, and the experience makes me glad I came here to Indonesia.