A Journey With Mrs. Pri

 

A Journey With Mrs. Pri

10 September 2025

That morning, my phone buzzed with a message from a Belgian number. I stared at it for a moment, already guessing what it was about. Foreigners often contacted me after seeing my tour promotions online. Still, I opened it with a small spark of curiosity.

As expected, it was someone interested in booking a tour in Malang. We exchanged greetings, and she introduced herself as Mrs. Pri. There was something warm and polite in the way she typed—straightforward, yet gentle. She told me she had come across my posts on Facebook: the waterfalls, the hot springs, the colorful villages, the small cultural workshops I often advertised.

She seemed genuinely fascinated.

“I’ll contact you again when I arrive in Malang,” she wrote.

And just like that, the conversation ended. Short, simple, but it left a small excitement lingering in my mind.

29 October 2025

More than a month passed before her name appeared on my screen again.

She messaged me early in the morning:

“I’ll be arriving in Malang tomorrow.”

I sat up, quickly thinking about logistics. I needed someone trustworthy to accompany her, someone who could handle driving and guiding. My mind immediately went to Mega—an old friend from my band days. We had shared stages, songs, and wild youth together. Life had taken us in different directions, but we never stopped keeping in touch.

Recently, I learned he had started a small business: car rentals and private driver services. It wasn’t big, but Mega had always been reliable. I called him.

“Dude, I’ve got a tour guest arriving tomorrow. Can you handle it?”

Mega hesitated at first—not because he didn’t want to, but because he had never handled one of my foreign guests before.

But in the end, he agreed.

Even after finalizing everything, I couldn’t shake off my concern. Would Mrs. Pri be satisfied? Mega’s English wasn’t very strong. And guiding foreigners could be unpredictable—some demanded professionalism, some wanted deep explanations about culture, and some wanted a companion more than a guide.

I told myself to stay calm.

The First Meeting

The next day, Mega picked her up. I waited anxiously for updates, imagining all the possible things that could go wrong. But when Mega finally called, his voice sounded relaxed.

“Bro,” he said, laughing lightly, “she’s very kind. And easygoing! Don’t worry.”

A wave of relief washed over me.

Later, Mega told me that Mrs. Pri had been traveling with someone named Wawan.

“Who’s Wawan?” I asked, curious.

“Oh! Wawan,” Mega replied casually. “He’s from Karimunjawa.”

I paused.

Karimunjawa?

A small smile formed in my mind.

Maybe Mrs. Pri was one of those travelers who fell in love with a local soul while exploring Indonesia. Or maybe they were good friends. Or relatives.

But then again, it wasn’t my place to guess. I shook off the thought, amused by my own imagination.

Days in Malang

Over the next few days, I kept receiving messages from Mrs. Pri. She sent short updates, small expressions of joy, and sometimes photos.

They visited Coban Rondo Waterfall, where the mist brushed their faces like cold silk.

They soaked in the hot springs, letting the warm water ease their tired bodies.

They wandered through the Rainbow Village, its colors reflecting brightly in their smiles.

She told me how beautiful Malang felt—peaceful, refreshing, full of quiet surprises.

The only challenge, she said, was the cacao workshop, which was quite far from the city center. But even then, she described the experience with fascination. She seemed to value the journey as much as the destination.

Mega, despite his imperfect English, managed to guide them with sincerity. And it turned out sincerity was the only language that mattered.

The Farewell

Days passed quickly. So quietly, in fact, that I didn’t even realize how close their time in Malang was to ending.

And suddenly, the day came.

Mega sent me a photo:

Mrs. Pri and Wawan standing together at Juanda Airport, their bags at their feet, the shimmer of goodbye lingering in their smiles.

Something about that picture felt soft, almost nostalgic—though the moment had just happened.

The tour was short.

The story even shorter.

But somehow, it felt lasting, as if the memory would stay long after they flew back home.

And so…

This little journey with Mrs. Pri may not have been grand or dramatic. But it was real. It was human. It was a reminder that even brief encounters can leave gentle prints on our days.

Thank you, Mrs. Pri.

Wherever you are, may your travels always bring you the joy you found in Malang.