Sorry for the lapse, dear friends. I was blessed with the opportunity to meet with a few other ELFs in Bali for a wonderful (though perhaps undeserved) vacation. We haven't started teaching yet, but most of us agree that just settling into a new life here in Indonesia is a worthy enough accomplishment. Either way, I had some of the best days to date in Indonesia, perhaps in my lifetime. A few things first: 1.) I didn't take my computer because I wanted to break my minor addiction to Facebook and all of his social networking friends (this to explain my delay in posting). and 2.) I didn't take my camera because I forgot it in my sleepy haze leaving the apartment at 3 am to avoid Jakarta/holiday traffic. So, I'm waiting for some stunning pictures to illustrate/prove our adventures in paradise. Meanwhile, a little anecdote from the grocery store that sent me slamming back down to reality.

I returned from Bali this afternoon rested, refreshed and energized by the amazing things I had experienced. I wanted to go to the store to finally buy all the essential "new apartment" things, so I could settle in and prepare for teaching. I marched confidently into Carrefour (Target of the East) with list in hand - dish soap, hangers, tupperware, detergent, milk, eggs, etc. I was feeling particularly smug because I hadn't taken any wrong turns in getting to the store. Most things were easy, but the dish and laundry soap hunt nearly induced my first break down. Do you know how frustrating it is to buy dish soap when you can't read the labels? Many liquid products in Indonesia are packaged in plastic bags instead of plastic bottles. I stared at a wall of such bags for nearly ten minutes. I would pick up a bag and stare at it, willing it to make sense. Is this one detergent, or is it softener...maybe bleach? Gah. All the while, I'm trying desperately to avoid eye contact with the three teen-aged girls who are stocking the shelf beside me. Me? Of course I know what I'm doing. Are you giggling about me?? I kept thinking if I stared at it long enough, the letters would magically rearrange themselves to make sense. With a crushed ego and tears welling up, I finally tossed a box of powdered detergent (I hope!) in the cart and headed toward the dish soap to start the process all over.

During the whole ordeal, I kept thinking about my refugee students back in Akron. As their teacher, had I prepared them for this? Did they stare at a wall of groceries in Acme forcing back tears? Again, I know in the scheme of things, having a hard time buying soap is not the end of the world, but for a moment there it stripped me of my confidence; it was scary, shameful, and frustrating. I walked home in the rain, a picture of misery and contemplation. It was a good dose of my students' every day reality. But it also supplied me with empathy that will fuel and shape my pedagogy and plenty of motivation to continue Indonesian language classes tomorrow...starting with "laundry soap."