At the beginning of November another teacher here, Ms. Eny informed me about two happenings in her village that would occur at the end of the month. Ms. Eny has become one of my best friends here (despite the fact that she is female… har har har), and she always keeps me up to date about opportunities to have an authentic Indonesian experience. She told me that I simply could not afford to miss Wayang Kulit and Panjat Pinang near her house. I was very disappointed to tell her, though, that I had already made plans to attend an “American Thanksgiving in Indonesia” with some other Fulbright scholars on the island of Sumatra. After telling her this, the celebration never really came up in conversation again, and the idea of going to the traditional function left my mind before I really knew what I was going to miss. However, as Thanksgiving started to draw near, I had not yet ordered plane tickets because I started to have second thoughts about traveling so far away. I already knew that I would be gone from the village for the better part of December, and I started to feel guilty about leaving.
On November 18th, I found myself at Ms. Eny’s home, talking about my Thanksgiving plans. She has traveled inside Indonesia more than anyone else I know here, and she has given me valuable tips every time I’ve had an aspiration to leave Guyangan. On top of this, she’s the only person I know who has an internet connection in her home, and hence, she has affectively assumed the role of my travel agent. So, as I was talking to her about buying tickets to Sumatra, she casually interjected, “Too bad you can’t see an Indonesian Thanksgiving in Indonesia.” Her comment genuinely confused me, and I asked her to clarify what she meant. Apparently, because of where Ramadan fell this year, the Javanese equivalent of our Turkey Day (a sort of giving thanks type of holiday) was happening on the exact same weekend. With this new knowledge, combined with my already ambivalent attitude toward leaving, I made the executive decision to experience Sedekah Bumi as an Indonesian.
I’m not entirely able to express how happy Ms. Eny was to hear about my staying. At age 30, she has really started to enjoy living vicariously through me at events that would never be tolerated in my pesantren community. She’s always encouraging me to do silly little things like gamble behind an eating stall (illegally) or to enjoy a savory meal in front of people during Ramadan. The hilarity of these situations never stop for me because she absolutely falls into the category of a conservative Muslim, even for a Javanese person. She’s just so excited to have an American friend that she’s always cheering me on to do all the things that she would never do. On top of this, her sense of humor is spot-on, and wow, if only I had known a bit more about Panjat Pinang before smugly riding the headmaster’s mo-ped to her home.
Any time I leave Guyangan, the novelty of my presence is immediately set back four months, and I feel like a rock star all over again. Even though I had no idea what to expect, I didn’t anticipate that the Sedekah Bumi celebration in Ms Eny’s village would be an exception. I’ll tell you what though; if I told you that I didn’t enjoy every minute of the attention, I would be inaccurately conveying to you my genuine feelings about living here! Nevertheless, because I know that I will be leaving after only one year, it has not been a challenge for me to strike a balance between vanity and humility.
Ms. Eny and I left her home and made our way to the popular event. Upon entering the mystifying scene of a few hundred Indonesians huddled in a scrappy back-alley, a makeshift wooden stage, and two 30-foot-tall oil-slicked shoots of bamboo with prizes dangling from the top, I knew immediately that I was about to witness some sort of wacky competition. After being urged to the front of the crowd to get a better view, I stood and waited as the M.C. blared his introduction to the audience in traditional Javanese. At this point, I was pretty inattentive because I’ve made very little effort to learn the Javanese language, and I couldn’t understand anything he was saying. However, I became promptly engaged after I picked out an unmistakable “Mrrrrrr. Kennnnn!” While a cheering audience pushed me up to the stage, I quickly forced a smile to mask my shock, and I looked back at Ms. Eny with a playful sneer and a sigh. I quickly noticed that everything else seemed to be totally blacked out by her glowing grin, and it then occurred to me – she must have previously informed someone that I would be attending.
An intense tag-team competition was about to go down, including a combination of events that the producers of Fear Factor would love to get their hands on. Panjat Pinang is no joke! Starting with a group of blindfolded people, jumping around trying to smash hanging ceramic pots (with their heads) that were filled with red die, to pulling out embedded coins with your mouth from an oil-covered coconut, I was in for a real treat.
The last and main event, however, was the Panjat Pinang, from which the whole competition gets it’s name. Honestly, I don’t even know where to begin with this…
After being thoroughly humiliated during all of the previous events, I was ushered over to one of the axel-grease coated towers, around which this event was to be centralized. All of the people I had been competing against in the previous competition now joined with me in order to defeat a common enemy, the Waria, who were already waiting for us at the other pole. This was a big surprise to me. Waria have quite a reputation in Indonesia; they happen to be a socially accepted, vastly prevalent, jolly group of transvestites and transsexuals. They are loud, crazy, and many times homeless (but more in the sense of a gypsy, not so much that they sit around asking for money). And apparently, they have a reputation for honing in on events such as this, in order to try and win money, prizes, and the attention of audience members.
As you might be questioning right now, considering what I’ve told about how much Indonesian people love to be entertained by my being around… which team do you think I was urged to join? Well, it wasn’t the crew of people I had just made friends with during the rice-eating contest!
For the first couple attempts at climbing the tower, I was to join the team of Waria, who predictably enjoyed my being on their side more than the audience members. After sufficiently patronizing me, attempting to flirt, trying to kiss, and making very little effort to win the competition, I fled the scene and joined my former teammates. Unfortunately (mainly due to the cheating Waria, who were constantly leaving their post and knocking down our tower of people), my team did not win, but the memories I gained from this experience certainly rival anything else I’ve ever done in my life. From here, I’ll just let the photos speak for themselves. They’re coming soon, I promise!
Saturday, December 1, 2007
Friday, October 26, 2007
I need pest control... now...
Good day/morning/evening/night!
Well, it turns out that from no matter which source one chooses to obtain internet in this country, the problems remain the same. Namely, it’s just damn hard to use! At this point in time I, as well as many others, have done virtually everything in our collective power to get me wired (well, “wiredless” as it were). And now that we’re about 3 weeks in, I’ve got a slick new phone from the future, a binding contract, and a new group of jolly friends from the Telkomsel support staff. Seriously, considering the generally hasty Indonesian relationship dynamic, I’m almost certain that I’m dating one of the technicians now.
But, on another note… MOSQUITOES!!! I’m starting to have some serious doubts about the parenting skills of certain insects and the morals being passed along to our newest generation of blood-sucking pests. There’s more careless unprotected sex going on in my kitchen than in… well, you just go ahead and make your own really offensive joke. Seriously though, I swept up over 100 dead mosquito carcasses in my kitchen this morning and over 100 more about ten minutes ago. I’m currently looking into a solution to this problem, which will likely include a spray that turns your lungs inside out. So, I may not be cooking as much over the next few days.
Speaking of food, after about two weeks I’ve managed to regain the 10 pounds I lost during Ramadan. Unfortunately though (in conjunction with the mosquitoes), it has recently become much more of a chore for me to utilize my kitchen. I hope this is a just phase that passes quickly because, quite frankly, I did very little cooking over the last month and a half, and I’ve gotten pretty lazy. I became accustomed to only making breakfast and then simply waiting to feast in the evening with families in the village. To motivate myself, I’ve made plans with Imam to visit a traditional market, where I can get “complete” Indonesian spices. Imam is so funny about cooking. (Andrew, I don’t think you would approve.) There’s really no such thing here as winging it and using whatever you’ve got in the refrigerator – largely because very few people own one. So every day, the average Indonesian villager makes a trip to the market to buy food for the family’s daily intake. Case in point, people commonly get into undeviating routines when they cook, and consequently, they quickly form ideas about the correct way to prepare boiled carrots and an infinite number of wrong ways. Imam and a few other people who’ve had the pleasure of tasting my cooking have made little comments like, “Oh, you forgot the coriander,” or “Yikes, not enough MSG.” To which I replied in my head, “Ya know, in this batch of fried rice, I don’t want any friggin MSG!!” Oh well, haha. I will tell you though; thank god for Imam, Mr. Wiwid, and Kiswanto because really, I’m going to be a pro at preparing Indonesian cuisine by the time I come home. This is of course assuming that I’ll be able to find orange leaves and galanger at Wal-Mart.
And one more thing before I cut this off. Haircuts here are fantastic. Not really because of the haircut though, but because you get a massage afterwards!
And not a creepy massage...
…like in Yogyakarta…
If you haven’t yet heard this story, ask me later.
Well, it turns out that from no matter which source one chooses to obtain internet in this country, the problems remain the same. Namely, it’s just damn hard to use! At this point in time I, as well as many others, have done virtually everything in our collective power to get me wired (well, “wiredless” as it were). And now that we’re about 3 weeks in, I’ve got a slick new phone from the future, a binding contract, and a new group of jolly friends from the Telkomsel support staff. Seriously, considering the generally hasty Indonesian relationship dynamic, I’m almost certain that I’m dating one of the technicians now.
But, on another note… MOSQUITOES!!! I’m starting to have some serious doubts about the parenting skills of certain insects and the morals being passed along to our newest generation of blood-sucking pests. There’s more careless unprotected sex going on in my kitchen than in… well, you just go ahead and make your own really offensive joke. Seriously though, I swept up over 100 dead mosquito carcasses in my kitchen this morning and over 100 more about ten minutes ago. I’m currently looking into a solution to this problem, which will likely include a spray that turns your lungs inside out. So, I may not be cooking as much over the next few days.
Speaking of food, after about two weeks I’ve managed to regain the 10 pounds I lost during Ramadan. Unfortunately though (in conjunction with the mosquitoes), it has recently become much more of a chore for me to utilize my kitchen. I hope this is a just phase that passes quickly because, quite frankly, I did very little cooking over the last month and a half, and I’ve gotten pretty lazy. I became accustomed to only making breakfast and then simply waiting to feast in the evening with families in the village. To motivate myself, I’ve made plans with Imam to visit a traditional market, where I can get “complete” Indonesian spices. Imam is so funny about cooking. (Andrew, I don’t think you would approve.) There’s really no such thing here as winging it and using whatever you’ve got in the refrigerator – largely because very few people own one. So every day, the average Indonesian villager makes a trip to the market to buy food for the family’s daily intake. Case in point, people commonly get into undeviating routines when they cook, and consequently, they quickly form ideas about the correct way to prepare boiled carrots and an infinite number of wrong ways. Imam and a few other people who’ve had the pleasure of tasting my cooking have made little comments like, “Oh, you forgot the coriander,” or “Yikes, not enough MSG.” To which I replied in my head, “Ya know, in this batch of fried rice, I don’t want any friggin MSG!!” Oh well, haha. I will tell you though; thank god for Imam, Mr. Wiwid, and Kiswanto because really, I’m going to be a pro at preparing Indonesian cuisine by the time I come home. This is of course assuming that I’ll be able to find orange leaves and galanger at Wal-Mart.
And one more thing before I cut this off. Haircuts here are fantastic. Not really because of the haircut though, but because you get a massage afterwards!
And not a creepy massage...
…like in Yogyakarta…
If you haven’t yet heard this story, ask me later.
Friday, October 12, 2007
Telkomflict! Prequel
… so, instead of continuing the story and telling you about how my internet situation has gotten better, let’s back track and talk about my experience in Semarang a few days ago. I’ve been living in Indonesia for just over two months now and have gained a pretty strong self-confidence in my language ability. However, once I was on my own and was taking care of business in a big city, while I didn’t exactly resemble a chicken with it’s head cut off, I found out pretty quickly that my self confidence had developed a bit prematurely.
My first stop, and what I thought would be my only stop, was the Telkomsel headquarters, GraPARI, in Semarang (where I was told all my problems would be solved). After walking in to the building and after being placed in the queue, I gave a huge sigh of relief because I could just sit there, relax, wait for a representative to help me, and then buy the proper cell phone to grant me access to the internet! As I waited, I watched a soccer match and chatted with some others who were sitting close. But, as I noticed more details about my surroundings, I started to become acutely aware that I would not be able to buy a cell phone here. I remembered finding it odd when I saw no merchandise on display upon entering the building, and then, after talking to a couple people, my doubts were confirmed. This was only a service center. That was fine though; I had all day, and I figured that before I bought a phone I should get some professional advice anyway.
Once my number was called, I spoke with a Telkomsel rep, and we had no real problems understanding each other; she basically just gave directions to where I should buy my phone. And of course, I probably could have guessed that the directions would be to the huge mall down the street. It was a little hike, but no big deal, so just I left and headed towards Mal Ciputra. I wasted some time in a few stores, just looking around (melihat-lihat), before I made it into one of the many cell phone shops. I had a few specific questions and some new technical vocabulary in my arsenal, which I had learned from the woman at GraPARI. I could now use that to my advantage for buying a phone, and I wasn’t really worried about making this semi-large purchase by myself. I asked the salesman a few questions about a particular phone I was looking at, and he gave me only positive responses, so I decided that it would be the one!
Well, rather than saying, “No, this phone does not have that feature,” or even “I’m sorry, could you repeat that? I don’t understand your broken Indonesian,” the salesman gave me a resounding “Yes” to everything I asked. I’ll give him the benefit of the doubt and attribute this misunderstanding to the reasons that I gave in my last blog entry – Indonesians do not want to disappoint. He saw that I liked this phone and just couldn’t stand to be the bearer of bad news and let me know that,
“No, this phone does not have GPRS Flash capability. You will have to buy another phone.”
Or, it could have been that he understood me just fine, but since his shift was almost over, he certainly would not have wanted to lose the last sale of the day. But, surely… surely, something like that would never happen in Indonesia!
Anyway, I made it back to the Telkomsel service center, where they were supposed to configure my phone for the internet, and of course, after waiting patiently and unknowlingly in another 45-minute queue, I was told that this task would be impossible. I would need to purchase a different phone.
Now, having gone shopping in this country a few times before, I was already aware that the return policies here aren’t quite what they are at BestBuy. So, bearing in mind that I had just bought a $150 phone, a slight sense of panic began to set in. This time on the way back to Mal Ciputra, I walked a bit more quickly.
Luckily, resale value in this country is notably higher than in the US, and people aren’t worried about making large profit margins on used items, so when I went to exchange my phone, I only lost $20, about 13%. That might seem shitty, considering I had bought the phone only an hour and a half previous, but during the walk there, I had fully anticipated losing at least $50 with this transaction, so I was actually in a pretty good mood. I just bit the bullet, bought the more expensive phone, lost a little cash, and walked back to GraPARI. This walk was much less pleasant than any of the previous three though. Not only did I have a completely justified lack of confidence about this phone actually being “the one,” but I was also nearing the completion of my eighth kilometer… in 80¢ flip flops. This time, as well as being worried about throwing away large sums of money, I was becoming aware of the blisters forming on my feet. I hate you, Mal Ciputra.
But back at the service center, and after yet another 45-minute queue, I was placed at the desk of my 3rd Telkomsel rep for the day. She was the only person with whom I was able to speak English all morning and afternoon, and it couldn’t have come at a better time. We finished configuring my phone pretty quickly, and I was ready to go home. However, I had to wait another hour for my ride to arrive. Even still, after getting the phone situation under control, and even after having dealt with telecommunications people for 7 hours straight, I was still looking forward to just sitting back in the GraPARI waiting room, in the air conditioning, watching the rest of the soccer match that was on TV.
But guess what. It was closing time.
I called my ride to let them know that I could no longer meet them at our previously specified location, and when we worked out a new meeting place, guess which “close” well-known landmark was the rendezvous of choice…
My first stop, and what I thought would be my only stop, was the Telkomsel headquarters, GraPARI, in Semarang (where I was told all my problems would be solved). After walking in to the building and after being placed in the queue, I gave a huge sigh of relief because I could just sit there, relax, wait for a representative to help me, and then buy the proper cell phone to grant me access to the internet! As I waited, I watched a soccer match and chatted with some others who were sitting close. But, as I noticed more details about my surroundings, I started to become acutely aware that I would not be able to buy a cell phone here. I remembered finding it odd when I saw no merchandise on display upon entering the building, and then, after talking to a couple people, my doubts were confirmed. This was only a service center. That was fine though; I had all day, and I figured that before I bought a phone I should get some professional advice anyway.
Once my number was called, I spoke with a Telkomsel rep, and we had no real problems understanding each other; she basically just gave directions to where I should buy my phone. And of course, I probably could have guessed that the directions would be to the huge mall down the street. It was a little hike, but no big deal, so just I left and headed towards Mal Ciputra. I wasted some time in a few stores, just looking around (melihat-lihat), before I made it into one of the many cell phone shops. I had a few specific questions and some new technical vocabulary in my arsenal, which I had learned from the woman at GraPARI. I could now use that to my advantage for buying a phone, and I wasn’t really worried about making this semi-large purchase by myself. I asked the salesman a few questions about a particular phone I was looking at, and he gave me only positive responses, so I decided that it would be the one!
Well, rather than saying, “No, this phone does not have that feature,” or even “I’m sorry, could you repeat that? I don’t understand your broken Indonesian,” the salesman gave me a resounding “Yes” to everything I asked. I’ll give him the benefit of the doubt and attribute this misunderstanding to the reasons that I gave in my last blog entry – Indonesians do not want to disappoint. He saw that I liked this phone and just couldn’t stand to be the bearer of bad news and let me know that,
“No, this phone does not have GPRS Flash capability. You will have to buy another phone.”
Or, it could have been that he understood me just fine, but since his shift was almost over, he certainly would not have wanted to lose the last sale of the day. But, surely… surely, something like that would never happen in Indonesia!
Anyway, I made it back to the Telkomsel service center, where they were supposed to configure my phone for the internet, and of course, after waiting patiently and unknowlingly in another 45-minute queue, I was told that this task would be impossible. I would need to purchase a different phone.
Now, having gone shopping in this country a few times before, I was already aware that the return policies here aren’t quite what they are at BestBuy. So, bearing in mind that I had just bought a $150 phone, a slight sense of panic began to set in. This time on the way back to Mal Ciputra, I walked a bit more quickly.
Luckily, resale value in this country is notably higher than in the US, and people aren’t worried about making large profit margins on used items, so when I went to exchange my phone, I only lost $20, about 13%. That might seem shitty, considering I had bought the phone only an hour and a half previous, but during the walk there, I had fully anticipated losing at least $50 with this transaction, so I was actually in a pretty good mood. I just bit the bullet, bought the more expensive phone, lost a little cash, and walked back to GraPARI. This walk was much less pleasant than any of the previous three though. Not only did I have a completely justified lack of confidence about this phone actually being “the one,” but I was also nearing the completion of my eighth kilometer… in 80¢ flip flops. This time, as well as being worried about throwing away large sums of money, I was becoming aware of the blisters forming on my feet. I hate you, Mal Ciputra.
But back at the service center, and after yet another 45-minute queue, I was placed at the desk of my 3rd Telkomsel rep for the day. She was the only person with whom I was able to speak English all morning and afternoon, and it couldn’t have come at a better time. We finished configuring my phone pretty quickly, and I was ready to go home. However, I had to wait another hour for my ride to arrive. Even still, after getting the phone situation under control, and even after having dealt with telecommunications people for 7 hours straight, I was still looking forward to just sitting back in the GraPARI waiting room, in the air conditioning, watching the rest of the soccer match that was on TV.
But guess what. It was closing time.
I called my ride to let them know that I could no longer meet them at our previously specified location, and when we worked out a new meeting place, guess which “close” well-known landmark was the rendezvous of choice…
Thursday, October 11, 2007
Telkomflict!
There’s something that I’ve been meaning to mention in my past few journal entries, and that’s how my concept of time is completely off balance, living on the equator. It’s not enough that I’m out of the country; the sun sets here at 5:45pm everyday, and there is no season change. It’s been getting cooler for you guys, but it’s been getting hotter and dryer for me. A couple weeks ago, Joe mentioned something to me about fall break, and I couldn’t believe it. I was thinking, “Shit, it’s already October?? I’ve got to apply for grad school!” That's why I’ve been on a frantic search for practical internet access lately.
So yeah, for real this time. It looks like I've been able to get the situation under control. I've currently got a temporary solution going here, but soon I will have a permanent internet connection. The other night when I thought I had it all worked out... yeah, that was certainly not the case. I was actually getting charged double, and what I mean by double is X10. I was getting charged by two different providers at the same time, and it just so happens that one of them was unreasonably more expensive than the other (the one who, at the time, I didn't know what charging me). I have to say that I was getting extremely frustrated because of this situation and have never had to conceal my emotions for the benefit of others (and myself) quite like this before.
During the orientation in Bandung, I was briefed on multiple occasions about Indonesian conflict resolution, but since I had never really dealt with fixing a problem before, I hadn't yet had any real experience with it. So, the culture in indonesia is such that it is extremely important for everyone to leave a deal/argument/conflict extremely happily, so there are two major differences (obstacles?) that a westerner has to consider when negotiating with an indonesian. 1) It's going to take much longer than what you are used to, and 2) people are going to tell you what you want to hear, no matter if it's the truth, or if they haven't the slightest clue.
This presents a major problem when consulting with tech support over the phone, with a language barrier, and no real knowledge of the product you have just purchased.
I'm not going to lie, after an uncountable number of busy signals, three or four 30 minutes conversations with no progress, and a $250 hole in my bank account, I had developed some pretty bitter thoughts about the qualifications of the people working in the telecommunications industry here. I was not going through all of this alone either. I had one of the students, Nafe, who can speak almost fluent english help me on the phone for the last couple tries at tech support. Not even he was able to break through the impenetrable wall that is the Telkomsel Support Line. I was at the end of my patience, and I'm really glad that Nafe was around, so that I had a reason to not let my emotions overwhelm me. I was able to just sit down and chat with him after our attempts to fix my problem, and once he left, I felt much better. I had an idea about what I might do the next day (today), and I decided that I would just not think about internet for the rest of the evening.
I had bought a bicycle 3 or 4 days before and hadn’t really gotten the chance to ride it, so I decided that I would just go exploring. This proved to be a very uplifting experience. It doesn’t take a whole lot to brighten the day of the average Guyangan villager, and the sight of children running after me on a bike entertained many of the locals. Not to mention, I happened to ride past (or should I say, “immediately stopped at”) a semi-competitive volleyball match, where I was beckoned to join in. That was great because I got to hang out with some people my age, which doesn’t happen very often. And of course, when have I ever passed up an opportunity to play… well… any sport?
Ok, so I will finish the story about the internet situation later and maybe add in some more interesting tidbits about Indonesian culture!
So yeah, for real this time. It looks like I've been able to get the situation under control. I've currently got a temporary solution going here, but soon I will have a permanent internet connection. The other night when I thought I had it all worked out... yeah, that was certainly not the case. I was actually getting charged double, and what I mean by double is X10. I was getting charged by two different providers at the same time, and it just so happens that one of them was unreasonably more expensive than the other (the one who, at the time, I didn't know what charging me). I have to say that I was getting extremely frustrated because of this situation and have never had to conceal my emotions for the benefit of others (and myself) quite like this before.
During the orientation in Bandung, I was briefed on multiple occasions about Indonesian conflict resolution, but since I had never really dealt with fixing a problem before, I hadn't yet had any real experience with it. So, the culture in indonesia is such that it is extremely important for everyone to leave a deal/argument/conflict extremely happily, so there are two major differences (obstacles?) that a westerner has to consider when negotiating with an indonesian. 1) It's going to take much longer than what you are used to, and 2) people are going to tell you what you want to hear, no matter if it's the truth, or if they haven't the slightest clue.
This presents a major problem when consulting with tech support over the phone, with a language barrier, and no real knowledge of the product you have just purchased.
I'm not going to lie, after an uncountable number of busy signals, three or four 30 minutes conversations with no progress, and a $250 hole in my bank account, I had developed some pretty bitter thoughts about the qualifications of the people working in the telecommunications industry here. I was not going through all of this alone either. I had one of the students, Nafe, who can speak almost fluent english help me on the phone for the last couple tries at tech support. Not even he was able to break through the impenetrable wall that is the Telkomsel Support Line. I was at the end of my patience, and I'm really glad that Nafe was around, so that I had a reason to not let my emotions overwhelm me. I was able to just sit down and chat with him after our attempts to fix my problem, and once he left, I felt much better. I had an idea about what I might do the next day (today), and I decided that I would just not think about internet for the rest of the evening.
I had bought a bicycle 3 or 4 days before and hadn’t really gotten the chance to ride it, so I decided that I would just go exploring. This proved to be a very uplifting experience. It doesn’t take a whole lot to brighten the day of the average Guyangan villager, and the sight of children running after me on a bike entertained many of the locals. Not to mention, I happened to ride past (or should I say, “immediately stopped at”) a semi-competitive volleyball match, where I was beckoned to join in. That was great because I got to hang out with some people my age, which doesn’t happen very often. And of course, when have I ever passed up an opportunity to play… well… any sport?
Ok, so I will finish the story about the internet situation later and maybe add in some more interesting tidbits about Indonesian culture!
Friday, October 5, 2007
Well, I apologize for the sparse updates recently. Ramadan has been a busy time for me, and for everyone. On average, Indonesians have more to do throughout the day during the holy month than during the remainder of the year. It’s a time when they embrace hard work and sacrifice. Before I came here, I had read about how a westerner should certainly cut Indonesians some slack by the end of Ramadan. They’ve been going without normal nourishment for a month, and one might assume that the last half of Ramadan could be hard on a lot of people. However, I’ve found quite the opposite. Ramadan is also a time when people are very aware of their emotions, and to become frustrated during this time is a real sign of weakness and of a lack of dedication. This Ramadan has been an enriching experience for me, and I have met many more people and heard many more names than my brain has a capacity to memorize! But, more about this later; I have a story to finish…
Immediately after spending time with teachers in a social environment, I was able to see how much better some of them were at English than what they tend to display in a classroom setting. The traditional language classes at my pesantren cast an atmosphere where mistakes are unwelcome and full preparedness is the only acceptable option. I can see so clearly now that even teachers display counterproductive apprehension toward me during our sessions. So now, more than ever, I intend to promote a classroom environment, which is as different from the students’ typical situation as possible. I think these kids need a little more chaos in their lives!
As a westerner, there are many aspects of this culture with which I am either completely unfamiliar or even with which I am totally uncomfortable. But, when traveling to the opposite end of the earth, that’s only to be expected, and it’s certainly not detracting from my experience. In particular, one facet of pesantren culture, which never ceases to make me cringe, is the general view of women and the interactions (or lack there of) between women and men. There are many examples of this, which contrast so intensely from western culture and from what I am used to, but I’d rather not discuss that right now. What I will say, though, is that when I went on this trip, I hadn’t before seen men and women interacting so harmoniously. All of us sitting in the back of a van, making jokes – it was so refreshing.
The reason I don’t want to sound too negative about gender roles here is because Indonesian women are genuinely happy people, and the patriarchal traditions come just as much from the long engrained Javanese culture as they do from the more recent Islam. Many people here, men and women, would never say that females are treated differently (even if they know it deep down). They are so proud of their culture and so proud to be Indonesians and Muslims, that these social issues, which we hold so dear in the US are not a concern for them (even for most women). People’s sense of individuality is nothing like Americans’. Many Indonesians would define themselves by their family, their home and community, and their religion – nevert by their goals and aspirations, achievements, or career. However, just to relate to me, when I’ve had conversations about gender with people, it is an immediate response for them to give me specific examples of women who are successful and who couldn’t be considered oppressed even by the western definition. But, with my privilege of having had first hand experience in both cultures, and with the advantage of comparison, it’s still very hard for me to fully accept certain practices here… as I am sure it would be similar for them if they ever ventured to the US.
Traveling, however, tends not to be a big desire for many people in central Java, and if it were, it’s still much too expensive. Anyway, that’s one reason why the trip to this mountain and waterfall was so exciting for my new friends. Many of the teachers had never previously been, and for the ones who had, maybe they only remembered it from an excursion during their middle school years. My excitement, though, was drawn from something completely different. This trip happened nearly a month ago at this point, and some of the things here that have become commonplace for me by now were, at that time, very inspiring and made a big impression on me. I’m so happy to go back and write about this because I had almost forgotten.
The jaunt to Gunung Muria was the first time I felt like a true friend to the teachers here and not at all like a novelty. We were joking around with what little vocabulary we had in common (in both languages), trying to penetrate a steep language barrier, and when I look back on the trip, even though I could only manage a true conversation with one of the twelve people who went, I have no memories of feeling out of place or of struggling to communicate. I was even invited to go with them at noon to pray, and although I did not take part in the prayer, I felt more comfortable and at ease, barefoot, in that mosque than in virtually any other memory I can quickly conjure up. Being accepted as a true friend among these teachers, with whom it might appear I have very little in common, was one of the more moving experiences I’ve ever had. And these feelings were only compounded when I took a moment to consider the physical stimuli. There I was, sitting at the top of a mountain, inside a gorgeous mosque known to all of central Java, on an exceptionally beautiful day, with a calming breeze and a magnificent view. Let’s talk a little bit about melodrama.
As you can see from the pictures below, the waterfall was a really spectacular scene, and the walk there was just as beautiful. I learned some pretty important vocabulary during the hike as well, “hati-hati!” which means “be careful!” The trail to the waterfall honestly reminded me of a scene from Apocalypto when a guy slipped and nearly dragged four other people down a cliff with him. I don’t recall us losing anyone though, so I’m sure I’ll make my way back there sometime before I leave. I couldn’t knowingly pass up another opportunity to visit Gunung Muria with a clean conscience; from my experiences here in restaurants, I’ve come to the conclusion that that waterfall boasts the only cold water in Indonesia. Of course I’m kidding, but really, I’m so glad that I just bit the bullet and got sick from drinking the water here during my first two weeks. I’m now able to enjoy the unique pleasures of Indonesian iced drinks, which I would have otherwise been apprehensive to try.
Immediately after spending time with teachers in a social environment, I was able to see how much better some of them were at English than what they tend to display in a classroom setting. The traditional language classes at my pesantren cast an atmosphere where mistakes are unwelcome and full preparedness is the only acceptable option. I can see so clearly now that even teachers display counterproductive apprehension toward me during our sessions. So now, more than ever, I intend to promote a classroom environment, which is as different from the students’ typical situation as possible. I think these kids need a little more chaos in their lives!
As a westerner, there are many aspects of this culture with which I am either completely unfamiliar or even with which I am totally uncomfortable. But, when traveling to the opposite end of the earth, that’s only to be expected, and it’s certainly not detracting from my experience. In particular, one facet of pesantren culture, which never ceases to make me cringe, is the general view of women and the interactions (or lack there of) between women and men. There are many examples of this, which contrast so intensely from western culture and from what I am used to, but I’d rather not discuss that right now. What I will say, though, is that when I went on this trip, I hadn’t before seen men and women interacting so harmoniously. All of us sitting in the back of a van, making jokes – it was so refreshing.
The reason I don’t want to sound too negative about gender roles here is because Indonesian women are genuinely happy people, and the patriarchal traditions come just as much from the long engrained Javanese culture as they do from the more recent Islam. Many people here, men and women, would never say that females are treated differently (even if they know it deep down). They are so proud of their culture and so proud to be Indonesians and Muslims, that these social issues, which we hold so dear in the US are not a concern for them (even for most women). People’s sense of individuality is nothing like Americans’. Many Indonesians would define themselves by their family, their home and community, and their religion – nevert by their goals and aspirations, achievements, or career. However, just to relate to me, when I’ve had conversations about gender with people, it is an immediate response for them to give me specific examples of women who are successful and who couldn’t be considered oppressed even by the western definition. But, with my privilege of having had first hand experience in both cultures, and with the advantage of comparison, it’s still very hard for me to fully accept certain practices here… as I am sure it would be similar for them if they ever ventured to the US.
Traveling, however, tends not to be a big desire for many people in central Java, and if it were, it’s still much too expensive. Anyway, that’s one reason why the trip to this mountain and waterfall was so exciting for my new friends. Many of the teachers had never previously been, and for the ones who had, maybe they only remembered it from an excursion during their middle school years. My excitement, though, was drawn from something completely different. This trip happened nearly a month ago at this point, and some of the things here that have become commonplace for me by now were, at that time, very inspiring and made a big impression on me. I’m so happy to go back and write about this because I had almost forgotten.
The jaunt to Gunung Muria was the first time I felt like a true friend to the teachers here and not at all like a novelty. We were joking around with what little vocabulary we had in common (in both languages), trying to penetrate a steep language barrier, and when I look back on the trip, even though I could only manage a true conversation with one of the twelve people who went, I have no memories of feeling out of place or of struggling to communicate. I was even invited to go with them at noon to pray, and although I did not take part in the prayer, I felt more comfortable and at ease, barefoot, in that mosque than in virtually any other memory I can quickly conjure up. Being accepted as a true friend among these teachers, with whom it might appear I have very little in common, was one of the more moving experiences I’ve ever had. And these feelings were only compounded when I took a moment to consider the physical stimuli. There I was, sitting at the top of a mountain, inside a gorgeous mosque known to all of central Java, on an exceptionally beautiful day, with a calming breeze and a magnificent view. Let’s talk a little bit about melodrama.
As you can see from the pictures below, the waterfall was a really spectacular scene, and the walk there was just as beautiful. I learned some pretty important vocabulary during the hike as well, “hati-hati!” which means “be careful!” The trail to the waterfall honestly reminded me of a scene from Apocalypto when a guy slipped and nearly dragged four other people down a cliff with him. I don’t recall us losing anyone though, so I’m sure I’ll make my way back there sometime before I leave. I couldn’t knowingly pass up another opportunity to visit Gunung Muria with a clean conscience; from my experiences here in restaurants, I’ve come to the conclusion that that waterfall boasts the only cold water in Indonesia. Of course I’m kidding, but really, I’m so glad that I just bit the bullet and got sick from drinking the water here during my first two weeks. I’m now able to enjoy the unique pleasures of Indonesian iced drinks, which I would have otherwise been apprehensive to try.
Thursday, September 13, 2007
Gunung Muria: Part One
I awoke yesterday morning unusually excited and immediately began anticipating the adventure ahead of me. I quickly dressed myself, made a wonderful breakfast of French toast, and gathered together all the little accessories I thought I might need for a day of hiking. My departure time of 7:00 AM rolled around in a flash, and I scurried out the door to meet my travel buddies, some other teachers of Raudlatul Ulum. I had stayed in Surabaya this past weekend, but my friend, Mr. Imam, had followed up with his part of our plan to organize an excursion with the other instructors, for whom I hold a weekly English session. This past Saturday evening, we all enjoyed ourselves so much, and many of the teachers were participating more actively than in any of our other previous meetings. Each week they exhibit increasing excitement toward learning English and also toward my living on their campus. Because of this, I suggested that during the holiday, before the commencement of Ramadan, we should plan a trip together to Mount Muriah and the 70m waterfall raining down from one of its cliffs. Imam beautifully planned a day trip for all of us.
Subsequent to startlingly encountering part of the group standing right outside my door, I was gradually reminded of a sacred Indonesian philosophy, Jam Karét, or “rubber time.” There really don’t exist any expressions like “Time is money,” or “Time is of the essence,” in Indonesia – only, “Time is flexible,” or “Let’s just do it tomorrow.” Needless to say, we didn’t load the bus until after 8:00 AM. A few days ago, while I was staying with Samson, my friend in Syrabaya, he shared we me an anecdote about his friends with whom he’s formed a small rock band. A couple weekends ago, Samson’s buddy “Cobra” (a short, plump man with a wife and small daughter no less) gave him a call to let him know that he would pick Samson up for practice at 5:00 PM. 6:30 was no longer even a faint image on Samson’s watch when Cobra pleasantly arrived at his apartment with news that practice had been canceled. Slightly irritated after having sat outside for nearly two hours and certainly confused that Cobra would make a drive all the way across the second largest city in Indonesia, only to bring news of a postponement, Samson replied, “Dude, you have my cell phone number; you could have called. Remember, you used it four hours ago to let me know that plans were set in stone?” To which Cobra retorted, “Jam Karét, my new friend, Jam Karét.”
My content group of Math, English, Science, and History teachers walked to the court yard of the school and loaded into the back of a huge, U-Haul-like bus, which was to be our primary source of transportation for the trip. Earlier, Mr. Imam had informed me of his excitement that the head master, Mr. Humam, was allowing us to take the “children’s vehicle” for our journey. Almost dismissing Imam’s text message because I had no idea what the “children’s vehicle” was, I reciprocated excitement in a generic message, which conveyed only my enthusiasm for the excursion in general. However, if I had known that all of us would be piling into a diesel-powered moving van from the 1980s with wooden benches and two dusty, six-inch, powered speakers that were shoddily wired in from the cab of the truck, my expression of excitement to Imam the day before would have certainly been more genuine.
After only five minutes on the road, I could see that the other teachers were just as thrilled to be making the trip as I was. First of all, none of them had ever been in the back of the pesantren’s “school bus” either, so I wasn’t the only individual experiencing giddy amusement before the wheels had even started moving. Secondly, a trip like this amongst the faculty is extremely rare, and I can tell that many Indonesians in general do not travel often. Mount Muriah is only 40km from the pesantren; Imam’s last visit was during his junior high school days, and some of the teachers who’ve been living in the area their whole lives had never been there. On top of this, I was told that the last faculty trip was to the island of Karimunjawa in 1998. Having traveled there two weeks ago, and furthermore, having also traveled by boat, I can relate first-hand to why that particular staff trip was probably the last. The waters of north Java are very rough, and apparently some of the teachers refused to get back on the ferry home because of their dreadful, seasick experience on the way to the island. Some were left behind, and extra arrangements had to be made in order to transport them back home by plane. However, with those memories safely compartmentalized in a 9-year-old safe, in the back of their minds, everyone came with great expectations and equipped with their English notebooks.
Immediately, I was able to see how much better some of the teachers were at English once I got them out of a classroom setting. The classrooms in Indonesia truly promote an environment where mistakes are unwelcome and full preparedness is the only acceptable option. I can see so clearly now that even teachers display counterproductive apprehension toward me during our sessions; so more than ever, I will now gear my lessons toward making students feel comfortable and making them feel less like they are in a class.
To be Continued...
Monday, September 10, 2007
This is the "Salt Farm" right next to my school. It's only about a 5 minute walk to get there. The workers were more than enthusiastic to seem a "Bule" walking in the middle their ponds, but it was entertaining for all of us!
This was just a little guy I found walking around my apartment. too cute not to document.Sorry for the formatting issues, but below is a shot of me with some of the students whom I've become closer to over the past few weeks. Some of the seniors are very good English speakers, and we've quickly become good friends.
Wednesday, August 29, 2007
Where Energy Drinks Rule
By this point in time, I've had many conversations, with many people about the amount of sleep people get in Guyangan and Pati. I may have mentioned this before (I can't remember now) but I'm actually in the town of Guyangan, just outside of Pati. Anyway as you might have guessed, people in the small towns, especially, are very devout Muslims, which means getting up at 4:30am or 5:00am to pray every day of every week. So, most people here are running on 5 or 6 hours of sleep on a regular basis, even the students. Sometimes they find time for napping during the day, but it's not like something they have built into their schedule. The fact surprised me because of how much even indonesians joke about the fact that they are really laid back. One person said to me, "Indonesians never sweat when they work, only when they eat!" This, of course, was in reference to their spice food.
But from what I have noticed, especially with the teacher crowd, is that these people are very busy and have very little free time. Most teacher work at least 3 jobs, whether it's working at three different schools, private tutoring, or just some odd job. This means that, with a daily ritual of prayer (5 times a day), they have very little time to sleep. Most of the time I've witnessed someone praying, the actual preparation for the ritual takes the most time because they must cleanse themselves thoroughly and then change clothes. They probably spend 1 and a half to 2 hours praying a day... everyday... pretty much everyone.
So, it's pretty funny because every time I watch indonesian television, the commercial breaks are full of advertisements for energy drinks and caffeine pills. M150 Energy and Stamina or two brands that I see advertised literally every commercial break on certain stations. Not to mention, every time I sit down at the school with teachers, they are drinking coffee or tea, every time, any time of day. They must think I'm lazy as hell for getting my 8 hours. Oh well, not something I'm willing to sacrifice! :-)
But from what I have noticed, especially with the teacher crowd, is that these people are very busy and have very little free time. Most teacher work at least 3 jobs, whether it's working at three different schools, private tutoring, or just some odd job. This means that, with a daily ritual of prayer (5 times a day), they have very little time to sleep. Most of the time I've witnessed someone praying, the actual preparation for the ritual takes the most time because they must cleanse themselves thoroughly and then change clothes. They probably spend 1 and a half to 2 hours praying a day... everyday... pretty much everyone.
So, it's pretty funny because every time I watch indonesian television, the commercial breaks are full of advertisements for energy drinks and caffeine pills. M150 Energy and Stamina or two brands that I see advertised literally every commercial break on certain stations. Not to mention, every time I sit down at the school with teachers, they are drinking coffee or tea, every time, any time of day. They must think I'm lazy as hell for getting my 8 hours. Oh well, not something I'm willing to sacrifice! :-)
Wednesday, August 22, 2007
In Pati... for real this time.
Ah... ok. Well, so last time I was at an internet cafe, the browser that the establishment was using happened to be Opera, which unfortunately is not compatible with this website. Hence, I could not post anything other that a title for a blog entry... a little disappointing.
I am pretty much completely settled now. I have a nice place to stay, which is connected to the library and very close to where the head master lives. I have a nice-sized living room, a bedroom, kitchen, bathroom, and a laundry area. It's very comfortable... besides of course the leak two days ago, which literally almost sent my TV stand floating out the door. I heard a sound from the kitchen, and when I made my way into the living room, I could see the the reflection of the TV in a lake of water on my floor... which was being filled by the light fixture on the ceiling. At that point, I concluded that it would be a good idea to turn the light off. But never fear, the carpenter was on the job immediately and fixed the problem!
I want to go ahead and comment on something that I've found very amusing and interesting here. Indonesians in Pati really don't have any western sense of privacy, which is really the only thing I've had to consciously adjust to. I don't really have anything to hide, so it's not a big deal, but people in Pati are not very individualistic, they are extremely community oriented, so for example, any time I write an e-mail, my driver sits right next to me and tries to read every word that I type. It's not an issue for him that I am writing my closest friends and family; for him, this is just an opportunity to read and improve his english, while learning the names of my friends and family. Also, when I'm in my home, if someone enters or exits, they have yet to shut the door. Honestly, I may have never even noticed if I didn't have air conditioning in my house, which I desperately want to preserve :-), but people here really don't see any reason why they would need to shut the door. And don't get me wrong, they are extremely polite and would never enter or exit without making sure that it is okay with me, but once they are in, it's everybody's news!
I'm running a little short on time, so I must get going, but next time I update this, I think I'll bring my journal, so I can remember all the interesting and entertaining anecdotes that have become a very common occurrence in my life!
I am pretty much completely settled now. I have a nice place to stay, which is connected to the library and very close to where the head master lives. I have a nice-sized living room, a bedroom, kitchen, bathroom, and a laundry area. It's very comfortable... besides of course the leak two days ago, which literally almost sent my TV stand floating out the door. I heard a sound from the kitchen, and when I made my way into the living room, I could see the the reflection of the TV in a lake of water on my floor... which was being filled by the light fixture on the ceiling. At that point, I concluded that it would be a good idea to turn the light off. But never fear, the carpenter was on the job immediately and fixed the problem!
I want to go ahead and comment on something that I've found very amusing and interesting here. Indonesians in Pati really don't have any western sense of privacy, which is really the only thing I've had to consciously adjust to. I don't really have anything to hide, so it's not a big deal, but people in Pati are not very individualistic, they are extremely community oriented, so for example, any time I write an e-mail, my driver sits right next to me and tries to read every word that I type. It's not an issue for him that I am writing my closest friends and family; for him, this is just an opportunity to read and improve his english, while learning the names of my friends and family. Also, when I'm in my home, if someone enters or exits, they have yet to shut the door. Honestly, I may have never even noticed if I didn't have air conditioning in my house, which I desperately want to preserve :-), but people here really don't see any reason why they would need to shut the door. And don't get me wrong, they are extremely polite and would never enter or exit without making sure that it is okay with me, but once they are in, it's everybody's news!
I'm running a little short on time, so I must get going, but next time I update this, I think I'll bring my journal, so I can remember all the interesting and entertaining anecdotes that have become a very common occurrence in my life!
Sunday, August 19, 2007
Sunday, August 12, 2007
Here I was trying to get a different perspective on the volcano crater, i.e, acting like an idiot. The view was incredible. I was disoriented looking down into it because of how huge it was, and I wish pictures could do any sort of justice. If paths had made it possible, a walk around the crater could have easily taken an hour or two.
First Post, August 12, 2007
Hello all!
Hopefully I'll be able to update this pretty regularly. Rather than uploading pics in multiple e-mails, I'd really like to just do it once here because internet is fairly unreliable.
Anyway, my experience so far has been practically flawless... with the exception of contracting the Indonesian Plague of course... and the 7.5 magnitude earthquake.
But hey, no one was hurt, and my antibodies are now stronger than ever. Street vendors, watch out!
Hopefully I'll be able to update this pretty regularly. Rather than uploading pics in multiple e-mails, I'd really like to just do it once here because internet is fairly unreliable.
Anyway, my experience so far has been practically flawless... with the exception of contracting the Indonesian Plague of course... and the 7.5 magnitude earthquake.
But hey, no one was hurt, and my antibodies are now stronger than ever. Street vendors, watch out!
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