Room No.11B
Part. 1

This afternoon I was still walking around the campus, looking for a boarding room. Of course I was looking for a boarding room that had an affordable price, so as not to burden my father and mother. I can't deny, the father's job in the village is only an elementary school religious teacher. Mom, just an ordinary housewife. So, we as children must understand the condition of parents.

I am Adi, a first-rate student as well as a nomad who has just set foot in this big city. It's been two weeks since college started, I haven't gotten a proper boarding room. On average, the rental price of boarding rooms around the campus is quite expensive.

I've been circling the back of the campus for about half an hour, but I didn't find a suitable boarding room. Sweat drenched my forehead, my shirt soaked with sweat, my feet began to ache.

The sun was emitting an orange glow, the sky was slowly getting dark. The sound of teaching and prayer are heard from each other from the mosque and prayer room. Ah, soon maghrib.

I walked right behind the campus, to my left of the campus wall and saw in it a seven-story building looming. The walls are high, full of scribbles and pictures. This road is not very big, to my right a field of grass and an empty garden, thick with trees. At the end of the road I saw a small mushola, the paint was white, and part of the roof was covered with a large tree.

Adhan reverberates, shahdu and calms. Some men with scabs can be seen on the road to the mushola. Hordes of children ran around joking, and a group of women wearing mukena entered the mosque.

"Ah, I'd better pray maghrib first." I thought. I also walked to the Mushola.

Accidentally, my eyes were fixed on a small alley to the right of the road. There is no gate, the road is slightly down and it looks dark. On the right and left side there was only an empty garden, but at the end of the road I saw a lamp post. My steps stopped in front of the alley, I saw a worn board that read KOST PAK THAMRIN. The board is glued to a tree, brown in color. The writing is white. After the prayer, I have to go to this hostel.

I rushed to the mushola. Wudhu then perform the Maghrib prayer, thankfully I am not left behind to congregate. After the prayer, I went to the small alley.

drrrtt...

My phone's vibrating. Mas Gun called.

"Yes," I answered a call from Mas Gun. Oiya, counted began to be carried out OSPEK new students until now, I hitchhiked to live in Mas Gun, the upperclassman when starting the first. His name is Mas Guntur, Gun's nickname. His body was tall and stocky, his head bald, his beard thick, white skin. He was a strict upperclassman when nyantren first.

"Where are you Di?" ask Mas Gun.

"This is another muter-muter nyari kost. Just finished maghriban nih. Why mas?"

"Oooh, why the hell nyari kost? I told you we were just here" said Mas Gun.

"Hehehehehe.." I laughed.

"Yo I'm good at it . Sampeyan, every day many friends come there. I'm afraid of being disturbed." I replied.

"Yowes sacarepmu ae. Lo nyari kost where is Di?" ask Mas Gun back.

"This is behind the campus, which is an empty field," I replied as I walked towards the Kost Pak Thamrin alley. I stopped right in front of the alley.

"Ooh there. That's a deserted area in. There are not many boarding houses there." explained Mas Gun.

"It's a mas, just haven't asked me yet. Just wanted to get there, uh, by the way, call."

"Ooh yes. If you want to go back, lock my room taro under the doormat. I'm going to the cafe"

"Okay mas, suwun yo." I closed the conversation.

I also walked into this alley. The road was slightly down and dark, at the end of the street was a light pole. Then the road turns to the left, there are no houses nearby here. About fifty meters from the lamp post on the right, there was a small, fenced-off house. The porch light's not on. The plants in front of the house were unkempt, the weeds grew tall. But it looks dozens or even dozens of cats on the porch. I continued walking past the small house, and arrived at a house with a short fence in dark green.

The house is quite large two floors, but the top floor looks dark there are no lights or lighting. The yard is large, lots of ornamental plants in canned pots. To the left of the terrace is a large mango tree, the leaves are thick. I stood in front of the gate, looking around. Slender.

"Assalamualaikuuumm!" I said a pretty loud greeting.

"Assalamualaikuuumm. Sir! Ma! Excuse me," I shouted back.

Again, no answer.

"Assalamualaikuuuuuuummm," this time I shouted even louder.

The front door is open. Ah, finally. A grandmother came out from inside. He walked towards me who was standing in front of the gate. The road is a little bit paced. His body is a little slouching. Her hair is white and in konde. He wore a long green negligee batik motif.

"You're the one who shouts greetings?" ask the grandmother.

"I.i.iya grandma. Sorry grandma." I replied nervously. Grandma saw me sharp.

"Maghrib, don't shout! There will be demons." said the grandmother. I'm a little stunned.

"What's wrong?" ask the grandmother.

"Yes sorry grandma. I'd like to ask the hostel, is there an empty room?" my many.

Grandma was silent. Looking at me from head to toe. His gaze is still sharp.

"You want to host yourself what's the same thing?" ask the grandmother.

"It just happens to be myself." I replied.

"There is an empty. Wanna see?"

"By nek. But, I'd like to ask, how much is the rent?"

"alone huh? What college do you go to?"

"Lecture grandma. New students." I replied.

"Four hundred and fifty thousand, if you host yourself" explained the grandmother.

Well, this is a pretty good price for me.

"Don't you see the room?" ask the grandmother back.

"You grandma. It's so good." Grandma opened the gate.

The grandmother let us in, we passed a large mango tree, then walked to the left porch of the house. There was a garage and a dusty old sedan car, next to a sedan car piled with huge sacks, full of bottles and used plastic cups. We walked through the garage, towards the back of the house.

Then we arrived in front of the room. There are five rooms lined up, elongated. In front of the room there is a motor parking area quite large. Then, in front of the room at the far left there is a water tank on top of an iron pole and next to it there is an empty land with three large trees. Three rooms look dark, maybe these three rooms are empty. Ah, at each door of his room was a room number.

The atmosphere is quiet and peaceful. Still heard the crickets. This is what I like, a little bit of the rustic atmosphere is here. The air is still cold, probably because of the many trees in the area. I looked around, this boarding room is right behind the two-story house.

And the grandmother, opened the second room, room 11B.