One brilliant, sunny morning, we--me and my students--were on a commuter train to Bogor, a city about 60 km west of Jakarta, the capital of Indonesia. It was a day trip to Kebun Raya Bogor (the Bogor Botanical Garden), and to Batutulis village, where we intended to study the Batutulis Inscription, left by King Surawisesa of the ancient Sunda Kingdom.
Since it was Saturday, the commuter train was empty, and each of us (there were fifteen of us) got a quite comfortable place to sit. I was chatting with one of my student when along came a peddler carrying a gunny sack bulging with something. When he reached our bench, I could see that this sack was half full of tortoises--clay ones. Now, dearest Steemian friends, I love tortoises. I collect all things related to this lovely, resilient creature, especially if it's made from clay or terracotta. I love the slow tortoises because I feel I could relate to them--since I was always come late on everything, compared to my peers--the last who graduated from university, the last who get out from our hometown, the last one in getting a job... aaaand the last one who was still single. See? Slow. Just like tortoises.
In an attempt to persuade us to buy his goods, the peddler drew one clay tortoise and lift it out of the sack. It glowed in the morning sun, its carapace made separately, leaving a small niche on its back, perfect to keep rings or other jewellery.
My eyes must have been lit up when I saw the turtle, because after one glance toward my excited face, the students who sat beside me called the peddler, take the tortoise and gave it to me.
"Here, Miss," he said. "Take this. Slow that it may take you, but one day you'll make it to the place you long to be. And this tortoise's back will be a nice place to keep your wedding ring."
I was speechless. I held the tortoise as if it would break at any second. There I found myself, a single teacher at the age of 34, with nothing in my love-life record except countless heartaches and one broken engagement, listening to a 17 year old boy with wisdom far beyond his age.
That was more than fifteen years ago. The boy is a successful lawyer now, and I am happily married with five children, doing what I love most for my life--writing. And this is the story of my favorite souvenir.