Now that she was in the last week of her second month, life seemed so much easier to Lisa. Things that were strange in the beginning had become familiar, even homely. She had routines. She had befriended an Indonesian journalist, Eko, at an exhibition and he invited her to meet his wife, Tata, a visual artist and graffitist. The three had become friends and Tata introduced her to some women artists and several prominent curators. Both Eko and Tata were from Central Java originally – Eko from Yogyakarta and Tata from Solo – but they met when completing postgraduate studies in the United States. They spoke English fluently and Tata had been helping Lisa with interpreting and translation.
The three of them usually met at a vegetarian organic restaurant that was a short walk from her hotel. I
