Food Festival [OPEN]

[Indonesia]

Hallway, hallway, hallway--too many hallways. Carpeted, windowless, blood-stained, lined with marble statue and old but polished armors... you name it. In the last two hours--according to her phone, that is--Nesia had walked through many hallways, maybe almost every kind of hallways. There were ones that have doors lined in one side but none of them opened when she turned their knobs. She didn’t want wasting time trying to break in one; heck, she didn’t even have the power to do it. Besides, she still believed this was a game; the manor probably rented by America and the Indonesian felt he will not appreciate it if his guest destroyed something.

These hallways were endless. Everytime she reached a hallway’s end, she would find another hallway connected to it. Bright, dimly-lit or completely shrouded in darkness. In the latter type, Nesia had to use her bamboo spear like a blind person’s walking rod, for her phone’s cold light unable to illuminate her path more than two and a half feet. Plus she wanted to reserve the battery, a need may arise later. Even though she sometimes bumped into the wall or tripped over something, Nesia managed to get away safely without any injury worse than a scratch. She was glad choosing the panda suit as costume. It protected her from the cold. The only regret she felt was that she didn’t take a longer bamboo--it will make a better spear than her current weapon... if she met a creepy creature again sometime later.

In the first hallway, where she found herself after blackout and piercing screams happened in the party room, she encountered a... creature. It began as footsteps, albeit sounded flatter instead of soft since the hallway was carpeted. When Nesia turned her head, she saw something spider-like hanging in the ceiling. Instead of the hairy arachnid legs, its limbs were made from human legs. Nesia didn’t waste a second to run as fast as possible. Later, after her head stopped pounding and her breath returned to normal rate, Nesia thought that it might be a computer generated image or special effect or something. She let out a weak laugh.

That’s aside; the young woman didn’t see anyone--any nation either. Just how big is this manor? Where are the other guests? To make matters worse, her stomach started to growl louder. Nesia had to ignore its growl before, since she never seen any kitchen. Now she could no longer ignore her need. ”Food~” Nesia whimpered, leaning to her bamboo like an eighty-year-old. She thought about complaining to America later--how could he let his guest starve?

Her steps came to a halt. She had reached the end of hallway. A dead-end; a large door stood before her. Nesia huffed, looking on the golden knob. This was the last--if the door won’t budge, Nesia will curl her body up and take a nap--no, a long sleep. The Indonesian never felt this tired in these last sixty-eight years. She raised her hand over her head; the knob was placed higher than her standard and it also felt big in her small hand. Nesia turned it slowly, without hoping to open the door.

But it did open. With a loud creaking. She gently pushed the door using her bamboo to take a better look inside. ”Oh!” her dark-brown eyes widened, her mouth opened in a delightful squeal upon seeing the well-lit room behind that door was full of food. There were many kinds of bread: large dark-brown oval, golden small, dinner bread and even the long hard French bread. On top of another counter were lined nicely large glass jugs, each of them were filled with different colorful liquid--bright yellow, pinkish red, lime green and many shades of orange. She also saw cheese, from the thin sliced singles used for sandwich to something that didn’t look like cheese at all--its color was off-white with dark blue spots on the surface. The smell was incredibly strong from the cheese counter, so Nesia tip-toeing to the bread first, took the smallest one and bit it.

”Deliiiiish...!” the shortie exclaimed loudly. That bread was delicious and tasted fresh from the oven. She quickly ate the rest and took another small one. Well, it’s lucky she finally found the food storage room. Even better, no hamburger or soda in sight. Apparently America really thinking about his guests' taste.

[Kosovo]

Astrit peered around yet another corner. He could have sworn he was going in circles, except that he was keeping careful track of where he turned and as far as he could tell he shouldn't even have crossed his own path. And yet there they were, long stretches of identical hallways lined by identical doors and papered with identical spans of wallpaper spattered with possibly-identical (Astrit frankly wasn't paying enough attention to this last part to be sure) stains that might be water damage but some of which looked an awful lot like old blood.

He had been wandering for perhaps an hour (or so he estimated; it was hard to tell time in here) through all this sameness. It was getting to be very tiring, and he was getting hungry. Which wasn't to say that he had precisely been not-hungry to start with; he was at that stage of life wherein he was beginning to mature into an adult, and even when he could get sufficient food--which wasn't always--he somehow never managed to reach a point at which he wouldn't welcome more. The hunger wasn't particularly bad, but it was unusually noticeable because everything else was so very much the same, and it was getting worse the longer he walked.

Another corner. Was he quite sure he wasn't going in circles? He mapped out his route in his head as best he could remember... no, it didn't make sense that he could have gotten turned around that badly. How big was this place anyway? But he kept walking, because that was really all he could think to do.

Every now and again, he tried a door, but so many of the doors were locked and the ones he had opened really didn't have anything of interest behind them--just little bedrooms with what he assumed, given the age of the house, were dressing rooms behind the closed doors off to the sides.

He really was getting to be hungrier, his stomach helpfully and audibly reminding him at intervals that it had been quite some time since his last meal. At the same time, his feet were beginning to suggest that while he was used to walking around some, either this house was unreasonably large or he had walked the same hallways an unreasonable number of times.

Another corner, and hints of scents like bread and cheese and a few other things that all smelled entirely edible drifted through the air. There it was--a little ways down the hall, there was a door that was slightly ajar, and sounds of delight coming from within. Astrit's stomach growled loudly, causing him to jump in shock. As if in response, a loud voice from the open door declared, "Deliiiiish!" Assured that he was likely to find what he was looking for within, the Kosovan boy picked up his pace.

Pushing open the heavy door with the abnormally high doorknob, he discovered a kitchen was beyond, which for some reason contained appliances and foods that Astrit was fairly certain hadn't been invented at the time that Alfred had said the house had been abandoned. Perhaps it was specially stocked just for the occasion. A young woman who looked vaguely South Asian (or perhaps Indian, or given their location possibly even Native American--Astrit's knowledge of peoples not involved in his eventful life was unfortunately limited, and it certainly didn't help that her back was to him and she was wearing a panda suit) stood by a counter, celebrating over the deliciousness of the food she had found.

Astrit could certainly understand that. Just smelling it was enough to provoke his stomach into complaining again, and he froze in startlement. A moment later, his brain caught up to his reflexes and he quickly grabbed a large loaf of French bread off of the counter. The silly thought passed through his mind that it might make a good bludgeon if for some reason he had to fight, but he quickly dismissed that. His knife was a better weapon than bread could ever be. This was for eating, and there was a lot of it. He pulled the knife from his pocket and cut off the end of the loaf, thinking to himself, See? Knife beats bread, as he quickly ate the piece.

It was delicious, sweet and soft inside the tough, tangy crust. He kept his eyes open only from the fear that it might be taken away from him, for otherwise he might have closed them to better enjoy the flavor. Bread, wonderful stuff in all of its regional varieties, for as he swallowed he could feel it settle in and quiet his complaining stomach.

Calmed by the food and cutting himself another piece even as he did so, Astrit took a chance and spoke up.

"Who are you?"

As soon as the words were out of his mouth, the boy took another bite.

[Indonesia]

”Hrm?” Indonesia stopped her munching; the half-eaten bread rested nicely between her lips, being held by her teeth. She heard the door creaked a bit. Someone had joined her in the food room and now in the middle of process of cutting the long French bread. Her brown eyes followed him every time he moved.

It was a boy, definitely European descent although Nesia didn’t know exactly where he came from. She had trouble recognising the difference between Europeans in general. Ah, but they were in the middle of a game hosted by America and Nesia sure he only invited fellow countries, which means this boy must be a country. Her mind ran a quick-check through many faces of European countries, searching for a young boy. For some reason, the only face that managed to surface was blonde and has thick eyebrows; accompanied by a memory of him being dragged out from the meeting room by a taller man who keep scolding him all the way out. This boy, who just swallowed the bread, definitely not him. But the girl didn’t remember ever meeting him, or maybe she just forgot. International meetings were never a good place to socialize and getting to know faces from all over the world, because it’s always too noisy and the food incredibly delicious--successfully distracted her from any other activities.

”Who are you?” suddenly the boy spoke, before taking another bite.

Nesia jumped slightly, a bit embarrassed had been staring at him so long without saying anything. It was not a polite thing to do, staring at a stranger like one stares to a zoo animal. She blinked, removed the bread from her teeth and pushed her panda hood down, letting her black hair spread around her shoulder.

”Ah, I am sorry have been staring at you. I tried to remember your name, but it seems I cannot remember it,” Nesia pointed her index finger to her face. ”I am Indonesia. My home is a great archipelago, lies between Asia and Australia; pretty big in the world map. You can call me Nesia for short.” She made sure to pronounce her names clearly, sometimes people accidentally mispronounce it. Nesia willingly explained her home’s location to skip the question “where is your home?” that few people did ask after learning her name. She found it funny yet sad that most normal citizens around the world seemed more familiar with the Bali Island instead of her country; although it was only one of seventeen thousand other islands that formed Indonesia.

As manner had dictated, the next thing Nesia should say was asking about his name. But she couldn’t help herself that her attention was snatched by the boy’s body. He was so thin and skinny, no wonder he looked happy since he entered the kitchen. To reach normal weight for a human his age--apparently around twelve--he does have to eat a lot. ”Excuse me for a bit,” Nesia smiled politely before excused herself.

Turning her gaze to another counter, she reached the cheese first. With her left hand covering her nose from the smell, Nesia’s right hand opened the drawers and cupboards. She found a bread knife and a white plate. Quickly the girl cut some yellow-golden cheese which didn’t have a strong smell. Not a clean cut since the cheese actually tougher than it looked. On an unexplored counter, Nesia found many fruits. Not wanting to left the boy for too long, she only grabbed apples and oranges, two each, hoping the boy didn’t have allergy to the fruits or disliking them. She then back to bread counter, adding some small breads--plain, with sesame, cinnamon-scented--to the plate. Balancing the food in one hand, Nesia opened a cupboard, took two identical glass. After contemplating a bit, she reached for the jug with thick yellow liquid in it--mango juice, from the smell she detected--and pour its content to both glass.

”Here,” Nesia put the plate and two glasses on an unoccupied space in bread counter between her and the boy, gesturing him to take the food she had gathered from other counters. ”Now we don’t have to move from counter to counter,” she smiled widely. ”Who are you?”

[Kosovo]

The woman dressed like a panda pushed back her hood, and Astrit could see then that she had long, smooth black hair. He was fairly certain now that he didn't know her, at least not well enough to attach a name to her face.

"Ah, I am sorry have been staring at you. I tried to remember your name, but it seems I cannot remember it," the woman said. At least they were on equal footing. She pointed to her own face, in a gesture that looked slightly unusual to the European child, and explained, "I am Indonesia. My home is a great archipelago, lies between Asia and Australia; pretty big in the world map. You can call me Nesia for short." She pronounced her name carefully, and that along with her explanation of where she was from told Astrit that she was another country who was used to not being immediately known. He could relate to that; there were plenty of countries that refused to acknowledge his existence, and plenty of humans from many places didn't even have a clue that his part of the world existed at all.

Astrit swallowed his latest bite of bread and repeated, "Nesia," doing his best to mimic her pronunciation of her name. To his own ears it sounded about right, though he suspected that she would hear an accent.

But Nesia's attention seemed to have been redirected to somewhere below his face. Self-consciously, Astrit looked down. What was it she was staring at? His clothes didn't look particularly remarkable; they were not covered in worrying stains or unfastened in infelicitous places. The rest of him was just how he looked, not particularly odd-shaped or anything.

He opened his mouth to ask what was troubling her, but the Indonesian woman was already politely excusing herself, so Astrit put another piece of bread into his mouth instead.

To Astrit's surprise, Nesia began to rush around the kitchen, putting together a plate of the various foods she found and two glasses of some kind of juice. It took her only a few moments before she was back with plenty to eat. "Here. Now we don't have to move from counter to counter," she explained, making a gesture that implied he should take some of the food. Being still plenty hungry, Astrit obeyed, picking up an apple and some cheese. At that point, the woman finally asked the question he had been expecting: "Who are you?"

"Kosovo," the boy identified himself. "You can call me Astrit in person, though. My home is one of the fragments of the Balkan Peninsula--in southeastern Europe, if you know where that is?" While he doubted his name by itself would be well-known in much of the world, Astrit seemed to remember that most everyone had at least heard mention of the Balkans collectively when his family had begun to rip itself apart around two decades before. Freedom--he had tasted it then when Yugoslavia fell, and not been content with what he and his sister had gained together, but he had rebelled against her too.

Shaking his head to dispel the memories, the Kosovan boy refocused his attention on the woman who was in the room with him. Had the story of his mostly-successful bid for independence made it as far as Indonesia? he wondered. It might have--he had had help from America, who was quite the show-off and liked making as many people's news as he could--but it was hard to be certain. The news from the less-wealthy parts of Europe didn't necessarily travel very far.

Conversely, Astrit himself didn't know much about Indonesia, who after all lived a very long way from him, but she was trying to feed him so he liked her already. In fact, perhaps that was why she had been staring at him--she must have noticed that he was unusually small and skinny on account of being underfed. He wondered why he hadn't made the connection before. Perhaps she too was poor enough to understand the value of food, and he hadn't noticed because had been spending altogether too much time with Alfred, who unaccountably couldn't seem to tell the difference between a healthy child and a starveling.

The cheese was very good. So was the apple. And the bread. And the juice, even if Astrit couldn't identify what it was the juice of. He hated starving.

[Indonesia]

“Kosovo,” he answered. “You can call me Astrit in person, though.”

Now that’s a name she barely remembered. Nesia doubted if her country had diplomatic relations with Kosovo. But if he was here... then sure America knew him, he’s this party’s host after all. She sat before him - Astrit - listening to his answer.

“My home is one of the fragments of the Balkan Peninsula--in southeastern Europe, if you know where that is?”

The female nation tapped her chin. Slowly, her gaze moved upwards in a deep thought, trying to find Kosovo’s location in her imaginary world map. Southeast...? There was Russia - the big one - in the east, his land met... Finland’s somewhere in the north. Further west was other Scandinavian countries. Moving south... a sea? The Black Sea, yes, and around that sea... or maybe it’s around Mediterranean Sea...

Ugh. Nesia scratched her head, unable to identify countries around either sea. Her hand instantly flew to her phone. When in doubt, ask search engine. Unfortunately, it didn’t receive any signal. Sighing heavily, she put it back in her pocket and surrendered. “I must admit I don’t have any idea where your home is. Europe map in my mind looks so blurry, sorry,” Nesia smiled sheepishly. Then, seeing the boy was busy eating the food she had brought, her smile turned brighter.

Astrit ate really a lot. Somehow this just proved that he didn’t eat much since the party started hours ago. Maybe he usually didn’t eat much... or Kosovo wasn’t in its best condition lately. Nesia tilted her head. Wasn’t Kosovo mentioned a lot in the news... few years ago? Balkan countries got under spotlight when Yugoslavia fell into chaos... oh - Kosovo was one of the countries that once formed Yugoslavia together with some others.

Nesia’s fingers played with her hair awkwardly - she knew exactly that her government hadn’t recognized Kosovo’s independence. Most of her people had demanded that they should recognize their sovereignty soon, but politics... she huffed. Politics were where everyone had relationship with everyone and all their statuses were it’s complicated. That’s aside, after these years had passed the issue of Kosovo’s independence largely forgotten by her people, except few. Still, seeing the skinny boy drinking the mango juice gave Nesia a sisterly feeling; she would protect him if a danger approached them. Just like what she had done for her families. And talking about family, the Indonesian thought that no one should let this young boy wandering alone in a haunted manor. She hoped America had invited his family to the party, but she didn’t sure about that.

“Did you come here alone?” she asked. “I feel it’s dangerous being alone in the manor, you’ll never know who or what you’ll see behind a closed door.” They might be safe for now in the kitchen, but Nesia didn’t know if this room had a lurker waiting for a chance to attack them. “I hope America didn’t forget to invite the rest of your family here.” Although the party turned out into something like this, Nesia felt their presence - or the knowledge about their presence - at least would make the boy feels safe.

She took her juice and drank its content slowly until the last drop disappeared between her lips.

[Kosovo]

Nesia was quiet for a while, evidently deep in thought, but that was okay because it gave Astrit a chance to eat some more. The food really was good, and there seemed to be enough here to feed even a growing teenager. The growing teenage boy certainly appreciated this.

After a few moments, the other nation pulled out her cell phone and did something with it--Astrit couldn't tell what, but it didn't last very long. Finally, she spoke: "I must admit I don’t have any idea where your home is. Europe map in my mind looks so blurry, sorry."

The boy shrugged, accepting this with equanimity. He hadn't really expected someone who lived so far away to know much about his part of the world. Her lack of knowledge didn't seem to have impaired her enthusiasm for feeding him, so he was perfectly happy.

It was odd how Nesia seemed to be more interested in watching him eat than she was in doing the same herself. Had she had enough? What was she thinking about, anyway? She seemed to be thinking very hard now.

"Did you come here alone?" she asked at length. Astrit shrugged again in response, this time because he didn't know what she meant by the question. He had come to the party at Alfred's invitation along with everyone else, and then the crowd had dispersed when the lights went out. Had Nesia come here some other way or time?

"I feel it’s dangerous being alone in the manor," Nesia warned him. "You’ll never know who or what you’ll see behind a closed door."

Astrit smiled laughingly and replied, "Just like home!" It was a joke with a touch of truth to it, as his home was indeed a very dangerous place, and he was secure in the knowledge that everything in the manor was simply an elaborate game arranged by America. Unless Nesia had come separately, as he had wondered before--what would that mean?

A resolution came when she said, "I hope America didn’t forget to invite the rest of your family here." So she, too, had been at the party, and must have been referring to whether he had come accompanied by relatives and neighbors or not.

"My sister is probably here--I think I saw her before the lights went out--but I arrived by myself," the Kosovan boy explained. "I'm sure some of my neighbors or relatives are hanging around, but it was America who invited me. I trust him better than I trust my family." It was unfortunately true. He didn't trust his family very much anymore. He couldn't, since they had spent so long fighting over him. But he was sure America was on his side; unlike so many, he actually believed Alfred when he talked about representing freedom and justice in the world.

Naive? Astrit surely didn't believe it of himself, but he really was. He just wouldn't ever think it until it became obvious.

[Indonesia]

Astrit’s half-joking comment somehow worried her. Did the situation in Kosovo still tense nowadays? It’s been... eight years since they declared their independence. Kosovo was still quite young, both the nation and the personification. This young boy had to spend his early independent life watching his people suffered...

Nesia had gone through one last war that went on for four years to secure her independence and it was followed by quite a number of revolts. As a newly independent country, they haunted her sleep and drained her energy a lot. No one should go through that painful process, especially a boy so young like Astrit. It could drive anyone into madness.

Drawing a deep breath, she took bread and slowly tore it into smaller parts before eating it. Astrit was still smiling when he continued, "My sister is probably here--I think I saw her before the lights went out--but I arrived by myself. I'm sure some of my neighbors or relatives are hanging around, but it was America who invited me. I trust him better than I trust my family."

Nesia didn’t remember if she saw one of the Eastern Europe countries before the blackout. He just said he trusted America more than he trusted his own family. She didn’t blame him for that; she had that period of not-trust-family too. Family could be one’s best ally or worst enemy; they knew too much about you: your strengths, your weaknesses, your fears. Nesia had seen siblings fought over a throne or land and sometimes resulted in a fall of a great empire. Did Astrit’s family had gone through a similar fight?

“America, huh? It’s good he invited you.” Come to think of it, if this is a game then he must be the one who hosted it; the mastermind behind this. Nesia appreciated he had invited Kosovo to his party; the boy really needed friends if he couldn’t socialized with his neighbor civilly. As for herself, she didn’t really trust him - Nesia trusted him to some extent, but at the same time felt wary of him.

“Anyway... we really should look for him.” Nesia had so many questions for America. Was this a game? What game? And if yes, why she couldn’t summon anything? Her summons never reached the realm of the unseen - it was understandable, considering her current position was at South America and it did take a lot of time and energy to relay one simple message. Nesia just knew her message barely left the living realm. She rarely used this skill lately but knowing that she was really unable to do it somehow piqued her.

The female nation ate all the bread she had torn before and cleaned her fingers from crumbs. “I want to look around the Manor... that way maybe we can find America or someone else. They probably know what should we do in this house.” Whether this was a game or not, information was very important. Besides, there was safety lies within numbers - it’s safer with more people together. “Do you want to go with me?” she asked.

[Kosovo]

Something about what Astrit had said seemed to have caught Nesia's attention, he noticed. She looked surprised by him, and he wondered why. There was surely something that the archipelagous nation wasn't saying, and without knowing what it was he wouldn't be able to react to it.

"America, huh? It's good he invited you."

Astrit wasn't sure what one said to that, so he just nodded and kept at his eating. The French bread was particularly good, if shrinking rather rapidly.

"Anyway, we really should look for him."

That was a sentiment that the Kosovan boy could get behind. It would be nice to know what was going on, at least to get some kind of clue as to what their host had in mind. He expected that their game would be some fun, but it would probably be better with more of an idea of what to do about it. He was chewing a particularly large bite of his delicious bread, so he could do no more than nod before Nesia spoke again.

"I want to look around the Manor... that way maybe we can find America or somebody else. They probably know what we should do in this house. Do you want to go with me?"

Swallowing the bread as quickly as he could, Astrit nodded. Once his throat was clear again, he replied, "Yes--I'd want to go with you. Means we'd be safer together. Who else might know anything useful, you think?"

It seemed a reasonable question to him in response to what she'd said. Someone else might know what to do--but who would that someone be? And how would they know?

Pondering it for a second, he answered his own question. "Canada or Mexico might know something if they're here. They're America's neighbors; they could have seen or heard something from him setting up. Maybe England. He and America talk a lot. Of course, anybody could have heard something, and if this is some kind of mystery game, somebody pretty unlikely could have the really useful information just to throw us off the trail."

The loaf of French bread was getting to be very small indeed now, and Astrit was growing close to feeling full. He did want to finish this bread, though, which tasted so very, very good. For once, the growing boy was eating enough to fuel himself properly.

[Indonesia]

"Yes--I'd want to go with you. Means we'd be safer together. Who else might know anything useful, you think?"

Nesia felt glad he took her offer. Astrit didn’t have any reason to refuse anyway and apparently he thought the same thing like her; there is safety in number. But... who might know something useful about a party hosted by America other than him? She could name quite a number of nations who were in good terms with him; certainly Russia wasn’t on the list. America probably had a partner or two in setting this whole party up but Nesia knew not everyone would agree easily.

“Maybe Canada?” Nesia answered, “America barely heard his protest after all, if he did reject the offer to help his brother setting the manor up at first.” She also knew the silent nation was the one who America would approach first if he need a partner to do something. Poor Canada.

"Canada or Mexico might know something if they're here. They're America's neighbors; they could have seen or heard something from him setting up. Maybe England. He and America talk a lot. Of course, anybody could have heard something, and if this is some kind of mystery game, somebody pretty unlikely could have the really useful information just to throw us off the trail."

Ah, yes. Mexico. And England too, although Nesia doubt the latter would help at all. “I don’t know about England. He probably refused to help but he might know something useful. Mexico, too. We can focus on looking for those three.”

Nesia let silence filled the air once more when she took another bread and eating it slowly. She was a person who get hungry easily and by hungry, it means she felt a need to eat even though her stomach was still half-full. Better save more food inside her stomach for the impending journey. Plus, she could do thinking better with full stomach rather than empty one.

“I’m done~” she announced, stretching her arms upwards in the air. Nesia took her bamboo spear, feeling its weight in her hands. “You can take some food, if you want. There are plenty of them here,” she told Astrit, feeling the thin boy would love to nibble on something delicious later.

The female nation paced around the counter to warm her legs before she suddenly realized something. “Have you seen America, Mexico or England? I didn’t see any of them in the party so I don’t know what costume they are wearing.”

[Kosovo]

Since Nesia seemed to agree to his reasoning without any particular thing to be addressed, Astrit simply nodded and applied himself to the food with renewed energy. Whatever else might be said about this place, it was quite a treat to get to eat so much at once--but, naturally, he was showing his youth there, wasn't he?

Maybe not; Nesia seemed to be every bit as interested in eating as he was. The silence stretched out for quite some time, save for the muffled sounds of enraptured mastication.

Finally, the female nation stretched and announced, “I'm done.” Astrit looked up from the bread he had been consuming, in time to see and hear her say, “You can take some food, if you want. There are plenty of them here.”

The boy nation nodded mutely and quickly wrapped up his now-truncated loaf of French bread in some napkins. It went into his pocket, along with a few of the sturdier-looking apples and a roll or two.

Meanwhile, he noticed only after he had done this, Nesia was beginning to pace. “Have you seen America, Mexico or England?” she asked him. “I didn’t see any of them in the party so I don’t know what costume they are wearing.”

“I haven't seen Mexico or England,” Astrit confessed. “America, I saw right after I arrived--he welcomed me to the party. I think he was dressed like one of his folk heroes, in jeans and a leather vest and a big hat and a badge shaped like a star?” That was the most detail he could summon up, but he supposed it would be good enough. Maybe Indonesia would understand what he was talking about.