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.
Friday, October 26, 2007
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.
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