And now for something different

Some amusing pictures...

True I suppose, but I don't see the connection to a child's flatware set.

Oxymoron

Another oxymoron. My first hooka at the non-alcohol bar.

This happened within walking distance from my apartment. Is this when you know you've made it big?

My ojek drivers have unionized. Taken on the way to visit friends across town.

Attempting to show how bad traffic was. Maybe not my brightest idea to take picture from the back of an ojek during rush hour.

A Thin Khaki Line

"You teach English for the police? That's something," said my new friend, an Indonesian photographer who grew up homeless on the streets of Jakarta, as we sat in a tattoo parlour on Jalan Cikini. Yes, I suppose it is.

After a year in Indonesia, I've acclimated to most things. I'm used to fish heads for lunch, families of five weaving by on a motorbikes, monkeys on leashes with creepy baby doll heads on, and complete strangers asking for photos, my Facebook account, and my marital status. But, at Sebasa, The Police Language School, nothing every becomes ordinary. Only two months into my fellowship, and the adventures have already begun.

Two weeks ago, I was surprised by a text from my lil mother (my counterpart, Ibu Soegma), informing me that I was invited by the chief to attend the launching of their very first teleconference English course, the next morning. I could only imagine how this would work. The goal was to reach mid-level officers from all 31 provinces of the archipelago with a twelve-week English course. Lil mother asked me to prepare a short speech about the best way to learn English. This is the equivalent of asking a writer what his favorite book is, but I've learned the concept of a speech is a bit more fluid here, so I didn't sweat it too much. The next morning, before departing to Police HQ, the chief told me I only needed to speak between 20-30 minutes, up to me. That's when I started sweating.

We arrived at HQ and Lil mother and I followed the chief to Kapolri's (chief of all the Indonesian National Police) teleconference room. It was just like in the movies; wall to wall screens slowly filled up with video feed from regional police stations all over the country. As we waited for equipment checks from Papua to Aceh, each of those screens then filled up with 15-20 officers. 15 officers times 31 provinces....that's...carry the one...over 450 mid-rank officers, all looking at me.

The chief kicked things off with a ceremonial speech about the launching and curriculum design. Shortly there after, he turned the mic over to me to talk about, well, whatever sounded inspiring. I tried my best to decipher the chicken scratch notes that I jotted down that morning on the way to work. English...yes, it's very good to learn...blah, blah, blah. I kept that up for about 5 minutes, mostly talking about the vast benefits English language skills bring to Indonesian police officers. Then, the chief opened the floor for questions. The first was for me. I got this.

"Ms. Jackie, how do you feel we can improve relations between Embassy security services and..." (I can't even remember what he said after this point, I was still busy trying to write down a phonetic pronunciation of his rank and name). Sr. Adjunct Commis...wait, what? Embassies? Um. I definitely don't got this. I think I massacred his name and then talked in circles for a bit about not having experience in that realm. The next question was also for me, this time from Bali.

"Ms. Jackie, may I (and 450 of my closest friends) have your phone number?" I flashed a desperate look to the chief and lil mother amid the silent laughter of all the little police officers on all 31 screens. The motioned for me to go ahead. "Let me give you my email address, ok?" I haven't been back to the big room with all the flashy technology, and I'm okay with that for now.

The reason I haven't been back is because Sebasa is swamped with another special program right now in addition to our regular students and classes. For ten days, we're conducting an intensive English course for 150 officers who are going to Darfur, Sudan. They will join a UN mission as a Formed Police Unit (FPU), and they will work at an Internally Displaced Persons (IDP) camp for one year. At the chief's orders, myself and Lisa, another Fellow new to Sebasa this year, will work with the FPU to expose them to native speakers.

We are using curriculum materials designed by the UN to practice real tasks they will encounter daily, like: writing patrol reports, radio speak, and map reading. Today, I taught how to use the future 'going to' to report future actions to HQ when confronted with a situation on patrol.

Echo 5, this is SO2, message, over.
SO2, this is Echo 5, send, over.
Echo 5, we have a man blocking our path. He is bleeding. We are going to take him to a hospital.

I can't get enough of this stuff.

Today, Lisa and I made a trip to the Embassy to talk with our bosses from the Dept. of Justice. They talked about how we can grow future programs for English learning with the police. So, it seems the adventures will not be ending any time soon. Fine by me.

Over.

Post Card Moments

What do red carpets, secret service, beautiful kebayas, crowns and really big hair have in common? You guessed it, they were all part of the wedding I attended this weekend. A teacher and good friend of mine from work, mba Elisa, invited me to be her date since her husband couldn't join her. I had some idea that this would be a pretty fancy occasion since the groom was the son of the former Chief of Metro Jaya Police (I'm not entirely sure what this means, but I knew it meant he was important). This is the scene the greeted us when we walked into the massive reception hall.
Elisa explained to me that the groom is from Lampung, South Sumatra, so all the decorations and outfits were representative of that region. This meant that all the members of the wedding party wore gold and black in various styles.

Elisa and I enjoyed ourselves thoroughly by commenting on the various kebaya styles. These gorgeous garments include a long, tightly-wrapped, skirt (hardlyabletowalk tight) matched with a corset and an embroidered, often see-through cover that buttons down the front. It was like prom; so many beautiful variations. I've added having one of these made to my goals list. The men also looked sharp with high-collared jackets with gold batik wrapped around their hips (over black pants) and matching hats. Of course, there were also police men and women there wearing their dress uniforms complete with white gloves and sabers.

The reception began with these uniformed officers making a pathway for the bride and groom. They put on a show of precision marching and arms presentation. They lined both sides of the red carpet and slowly raised their sabers into an archway for the bride and groom to pass under. The whole ceremony gave me goosebumps.

Once the young couple made it to the front, the officers surrounded them in a circle. Then, the bride was presented with a bouquet and the uniform of the Police Wives Association.

Elisa hurried me into a queue that was forming in front of the stage. After the procession, the bride, groom and parents stood on a stage as the guests pass through and shook hands (well, everyone holds their hands together as if they are praying and then they bow and touch the tips of their hands together). We waited in line as the happy couple went to change into the traditional wedding garb from Lampung. These are the outfits you see on post cards from Indonesia. They were absolutely stunning with their massive gold head dresses and white outfits. We waited a little longer as the couple took pictures with the officers and with the Chief of the Indonesian National Police (think of this as if the Secretary of Defense came to your wedding).

After we passed quickly through and expressed our congratulations, we were at last allowed to enjoy the abundant and tasty food. I enjoyed green rice for the first time. Enak (delicious)!

When we had our fill of food and navigating though the room of well over 500 guests, we left the reception and the lovely couple to continue their evening less one bule.

I still couldn't tell you what the groom or brides' names are, but I'll never forget the experience of this glimpse into one of the hundreds of Indonesian cultures. I feel like I could live here for the rest of my life and still not experience all of the cultures that this country has to offer. Over the next nine months, though, I hope I can see many more post-card moments.

The New Digs

Has it really already been almost one month? Wow. The orientation portion of the fellowship is over, and now everyone is off to their sites to get down to the business of teaching English. For me, this means back to Jakarta to move into my apartment before classes begin on Monday. This year, I decided to pass on the Bellagio - hand flurish - for something a little closer to Indonesia. I'm still living in a high-rise, and I'm still on the 26th floor, but this time there are actual Indonesians living in the same building. One of these Indonesians happens to be one of my running pals, Miranda. But wait, the perks don't end there. First off all, I have a balcony from which I can see this view of the city:

I live in a tower that looks identical to the ones shown in the picture. The apartment complex is enormous...over twelve towers. There are two rockin' shopping plazas in walking distance (the blue roof in the distance is my favorite). One contains a used book store from which I purchased copies of Woody Woodpecker and Bugs Bunny comics in Indonesian to practice language. This is the view at night:

One more pic looking straight down at the awesome walk way that connects all of the towers. You can see one of the two pools, the fitness center at the top of the picture, and the oval b-ball court. This place is bustling every night with kids playing soccer on the concrete.

Alright, let's move inside. From the balcony looking in you can see the living room and kitchen. Burnt orange couch! I'm in love.

 

Close up of the kitchen. I have a gas stove, aaaaaaaaaaaannnnnnnd an oven. Oh the brownies that will be made.

I don't even know how this happened (referring to shoes).

Spare bedroom just for you. Come visit!

 Master bedroom wardrobes. That's right, I have two. Don't judge.

My soft-pink bed. I had a small 'ugly American' moment when I made a face at the Saved-By-the-Bell-Opening-Credits-Patterned bedspread that was originally on the bed. I didn't mean to; it just came out like a knee-jerk reaction, and my poor landlady had her son go get a new cover right then and there. Sigh. I'm not proud.

 Washing machine with a separate spin section. I had so much fun trying to figure that thing out today.

The bathroom. Just kidding, it's the servant's bathroom. Kidding again! I don't have a servant, but this really is meant for a housekeeper.

Maybe my favorite building in all of Jakarta is now just outside my front door. How did they do that?

That's the end of the tour; just a taste of what you, too, can experience when you come visit me. ;)

Bule Photo Interlude

Saturday, a day for lacing up and hitting a long trail run. I was particularly looking forward to last Saturday because some of my cohorts in Bandung had discovered a large park a short distance from our hotel. The hotel contained two caves with munition storages created by the Japanese and Dutch during their occupations of Indonesia. Another five kilometers beyond the caves promised a large waterfall and monkeys...tons of monkeys. I had explored the cave portion of the park with a friend the week before and decided to return on the weekend for a long run to see this waterfall:

I wasn't the only one wanting to see the waterfall. I was, however, the only bule among bus loads of camera-wielding Indonesians on vacation for Idul Fitri. Crap. My run instantly turned into a obstacle course, dodging ojeks, hikers, and sometimes horses. I was determined to see the falls since I knew it would be my last chance to before leaving the city, so I pulled my visor low and tried to blend in. This was pretty much a futile exercise being that the path was only wide enough for three across, and I was at least a head taller than most of my park-going friends...with white skin...and running attire...and a wake of 'Bule' chants following close behind. Selah.

Ok, so this was not going to be the head-clearing run that I was hoping for, but I was there, so I went on. I only began to get a complex after the fifth group of children burst into spontaneous giggles after I passed on the left and several Ibu-Ibus breathed an 'Aduuuuh' after making eye contact. My bruised ego was healed a little by the group of 30-somethings who stopped me on an uphill to practice English and exchange Facebook accounts. I did, finally, make it to the falls, where I stood in admiration and in several family photos.

I took my time on the way back with determination to smile though and make the most of this run turned ridiculous. The smiling helped. It helped me to remember how fun it is to be here and to interact in a new culture. It also seemed to trigger people to ask politely, 'May we photo, Mister?' and for me to gently correct the widespread misunderstanding of gender titles: 'Iya, tapi saya MISS, bukan MISTER.'  I was struck by how my forced smile eventually changed my whole outlook on the madness to a genuine affection for the country and its inhabitants.

Later in the week, I more than made up for lost workout by joining a hash run with Jess, another English teacher. We climbed, undisturbed, up through kampungs (villages), through valleys of children flying kites, and over bamboo bridges (I was praying for someone to stop me for a photo on those never-ending uphills!). I copied this from the hash newsletter about the run.

We were made to drink for, among other things, being American.

I hope running, whether it be interrupted by giggles, photos, or beer, continues to introduce me to new parts of Indonesia. Cheers.

Saung Angklung Udjo

Each island in Indonesia boasts it's own culture and identity. Sometimes even that identity shifts dramatically from one end of an island to another. That is certainly true of the large island of Java. During our three week orientation and language training, we had the opportunity to explore the Sudanese culture of West Java. The Sudanese people are known, among other things, as being the most beautiful people in Indonesia, having the best food, and for playing the Angklung (see picture -->), an instrument made out of bamboo. Players rattle the bamboo reeds of different lengths to produce a variety of sounds.

Last week, about 30 of us piled into angkots to go hear an Angklung performance. The place we went to, Saung Angklung Udjo, is a cooperative where all of the players - mostly young kids - live, learn, and work together. The goal of the cooperative is to keep the traditional arts of West Java alive. We were entertained beyond our expectations by a variety show of Wayang Golek - a wooden puppet show, beautiful dances, the Angklung, and down right cuteness. I think pictures and video will do better justice at this point:

These young ladies danced a 'Peacock Dance' of West Java

Wayang Golek - The Good Guys

Wayang Golek - You guessed it, the Bad Guys

Here's a glimpse of the Wayang Golek. You can see the head of the evil guys doing a little dance. The players in the background are playing the Gamelan, very traditional instruments from Java.

These little guys can dance - and ham it up for the cameras!

If that doesn't make you smile, you're dead inside.

And for the moment you've all been waiting for....drum rooooooooollllllll....the Angklung. See if you can guess that tune.

And this is just the first month back...

Beginning Again

I don't regularly announce my life details via social media outlets, but I smiled to myself this morning when Facebook informed me of my status this day one year ago: "Celebrating small victories."

I can remember the day and the event that prompted that particular status. It was during my first few weeks in Indonesia, and I had finally found Carrefour, the local grocery store. After many, sweaty and frustrating attempts to find the basement-level store through a maze-like mall, I wanted to share my triumph to the (fb) masses.

Two weeks into my second tour in Indonesia, I'm celebrating small victories still, just on a different scale. Ok, ok...from my 5-star hotel in the cool, mountainous region of Bandung, life isn't really what I'd call 'challenging,' but sharing orientation and language training with 50-odd, young, intrepid Fulbright teachers brings to light a whole new set of anxieties. At 20-something, many of my new cohorts have already seen the world, learned five languages, and drafted a treaties on world peace. I wonder where a year of teaching English in the high schools of Indonesia will fall on their scale of life experiences. Where ever they may fall, and no matter how intimidated I am by their casual use of large words, I'm happy for this opportunity to share the year with them, and hope that some of their wanderlust will rub off.

As for my own experience, many of my goals for this year are continuing on from last year. Perhaps this year, they are a bit more tangible since I have a better idea of what is realistic.

Yang pertama, is the language learning. Bahasa Indonesia is now considered a critical language by the US government. I don't know how this could affect career prospects down the road, but I'm interested to find out. Also, I hope to deepen relationships with my Indonesian family, friends, and students in a way that only language will allow.

Yang kedua, as the prospect of job hunting looms ahead, I want to continue developing professionally in my English teaching and teacher training. Especially, I want to build on my knowledge and experience with English for Specific Purposes (ESP), so that I can continue in the field of English for Law Enforcement, Peacekeeping, and/or Military. With all the wonderful opportunities I have to meet with State and Justice Department folk, I want to really focus on my networking skills, and see where that can lead me.

Yang ketiga, is the category of travel. In country, I still have to see the funeral ceremonies of Toraja, the orangutans of Borneo, and the beautiful, untouched parts of the Eastern islands. I'd love to throw in some volcano hiking, waterfall diving, and batik painting for good measure and great blogging. I also hope to continue exploring the surrounding countries; in particular: Thailand, India, and Bangladesh.

Yang keempat, I want to keep up physically with the Bali Triathlon, various road races, and maybe even join a road bike team in Jakarta (now that I know one exists). I hope to get in on a few more hash runs...for the landscape, not the beer. I was able to join a family hash my third day back in Jakarta that included swimming through the clearest water, diving into a waterfall, and bouldering over rocks. It looked like this:

Yang kelima, I want to keep up spiritually. My relationship with God admittedly took a backseat to job and exploration last year. This year, with the help of some new-found believers, this is very possible.

Off to a good start. Got to go to the service with some of the Fulbright ladies.

Keenam, I want to introduce American swing dancing to Jakarta via the American Cultural Center. I have a plan and some folks interested, I just need to invest the time to come up with a pretty awesome program. 

Akhirnya, and not in the same category of importance as the others, I'd like to get a tattoo to commemorate my time in Indonesia. I already have the parlour, and the the idea...but I'm waiting for the perfect Javanese saying to come along and inspire me.

Seven seems like a good number, and all those goals are within reach. Here's to a new year of victories, large and small, in negaraku, Indonesia.