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.

Caution: Shoots flaming balls

I missed a ton of holidays while in Indonesia. The big ones, like Thanksgiving, Christmas, and Easter, I muddled through the best I could with late-night skype chats with my family and make-shift holiday festivities with other family-less expats. The minor holidays, like St. Valentine's Day and St. Patrick's Day, often slipped by completely unnoticed. But nothing could have kept me from coming home for the 4th of July, our Nation's Independence Day. It is a holiday my family embraces with both burn-scarred arms every year. It is the one time during the year we can handle explosives and light each other on fire in the name of patriotism.

Our holiday celebration used to be normal. Hamburgers, hotdogs, snaps, and sparklers. Oh, and those little black snakes that smelled really badly and left a nice mark on the pavement as the magically grew. What ever happened to those, anyways? Anyways, somewhere along the line, the battles began. In camo and safety glasses, we lit up the woods and each other until we exhausted our supply bottle rockets and roman candles. Cousin Kristen and I prided ourselves on being the only girls in the battle, and thus would head each team, challenging each other in duel-style with a slap of wick to the face.
I was captain, but my brother Jamie would take true charge of things, doling out rations of ammo to the team and devising strategies; smoke first to confuse the enemy, then charge with roman candles, finally the rockets. His eyes lit up like Christmas with every battle roll and low crawl - his maniacal laughter filling the smoke-filled air like sweet music to my ears. We'd emerge from the woods sweaty, trying to one-up each other with our stories of near misses or showing off fresh burn marks. The women would cluck prophetical warnings of lost eyes, and Nana would fret from the screened-in-porch-become-basement.

At o-dark-thirty, lawn chairs would come out as family and neighbors gathered to watch the big show. Our first show was amateurish and ill-fated. At first shot, one of the bricks tipped over and spun wildly with every subsequent shot, sending bursts into the all-too-close crowd. Flashes outlined silhouettes of baby carriages and spectators flying poetically through the air. I can still see it when I close my eyes.

We learned to nail down our cakes and our show got better and better each year, though minor concussions and temporary hearing loss would continue to add 'spice' to the show. 

Dad and Ty-bug took charge, striking deals at our favorite fireworks supplier to get the big stuff from the back room for half the price. Elaborate pre-shows were tacked on featuring costumes and props like giant, paper-machete boulders flying from the roof and projected images of a parachuting American flag falling to the graceful melodies of AC DC.

After Nana and Papa moved south permanently, we lost our wooded battle ground and show space. For two years, we lived through the 4th of July just like every other Tom, Dick, or Joe. Waiting in long traffic lines and sitting on crowded fields to be trampled on my whining children. Knowing that I was going to be home for the 4th this year, I challenged Dad to find a new spot and bring back to life our little family tradition. One week after coming home, I was once again dressed and ready for battle, this time with my own posse.

 

The Aftermath

I know, I know...I could have shot my eye out.

Like beautiful gobstoppers; so many colors!

This year was memorable for many reasons, and not just the sweet battle scars I got to show off for weeks later. We had a rockin' 14 minute show with parallel high-stepping sweepers and (almost) simultaneous alien resurrections. No one beyond our small group of lighters will ever quite understand why we live for striking those flares, watching the show from beneath as flaming cardboard pieces drop on our faces, and hoping the ringing in our ears will stop long enough to hear the applause from our adoring fans. But we know; yeah, we know.

Wrap up and Review: ELFship 2010-2011

Ten months came and went as fast as I imagined it would. At the end of it all, I'm very happy that I've extended for another tour in August. I miss my family, friends, holidays, driving, and sarcasm, but the new relationships, experiences, and challenges made it an easy decision to make.

To tie things up properly until the next time, it only seemed fitting to review the goal list I made back in August. So, if I may:

1. Learn Bahasa Indonesian - Meh. I did learn some, but overall a disappointing performance as far as effort and retention go. I feel confident in my ability to direct a taxi, shop (but not bargain - this has nothing to do with the language, though), and make polite conversation about personal information (Where are you from? How long have you been in Indonesia? Where do you work? Where do you live? Are you married? Etc.). So, beyond this and a small list of high frequency words, I got nothing. I am determined to work on this one in the coming tour, though. Living in Jakarta certainly doesn't require it, but connecting with and building on relationships, does.

2. Visit the other ELF sites - I hit another disappointing 5 out of 13 sites, and this includes Michael's site in Jakarta (Julianne, Jonnie, Jonthon, Michael, Cary). To my credit, though, I was warned not to come visit some places, and schedules simply didn't allow for others. So, I'm not taking this one too hard.

3. See/take classes for Traditional Dancing - See, yes. Lessons, no. I still have only scratched the surface on all the dance styles in Indonesia, so we'll extend this goal another year.

4. Find ballroom/social dancing in Indonesia - I found salsa, and with it the crazy and frustrating practice of 'booking' partners. Despite the fact that there was salsa dancing in walking distance from my apartment every week, I rarely went. Swing dancing is more difficult, but I recently learned that there is another swing aficionado in Jakarta somewhere. We have yet to meet, but I'm confident it will happen soon. I also have plans with the American cultural center to teach some lessons, so things are looking up in this category. Also, I take consolation in the fact that I have danced lindy in Singapore and Turkey now. :)

5. Running - Check and double check. Between the Jakarta Free Spirit team, IndoRunners, and hashing, I've got running in spades.

6. Road bike - Not even once, unless you count Bali. I did, however, find a bike crew, so there is still hope.

7. Orangutans - Nope. I will not leave Indonesia without seeing them, though. I did see Komodos, so one outta two ain't bad.

8. Stinky flower -Belum. (not yet)

9. India - Not yet....maybe Christmas break next year. But I did cross off the Philipines, Singapore, Malaysia, and Turkey.

10. Food - I'd give myself a C+ in this category. I did try most things that were placed before me, but I didn't go out of my way to sample new and exotic cuisine. I'm fiercely proud of the fact that I can now order and eat from an entire fish on my plate with out getting too many bones, and that I can do this with my bare (right) hand.

Over all an underwhelming review, but I give myself a little wiggle room considering I had no idea of what to expect going in. Besides, there's always next year...