Karangrejo (Car-ung-row-joe-h)

Just a little while ago I woke up on a Saturday morning, stumbled out of my house to buy some cheap Gatorade imitation called Polcari Sweat. Ran into a gang of neighborhood children who enjoy nothing more than running up to me, yelling "AMERICA" and running away while laughing hysterically. Soon after, I realized that my street has been covered with a giant tent. All part of life in Indonesia.

This is the view from my porch one Saturday morning.

My neighborhood I think is probably the most reliably hilarious part of my life. It never fails to surprise me with more ridiculous happenings and conversations, and it also by far, the most welcome neighborhood I have ever lived in. I can literally think of hundreds of examples of this, but I think a few stick out more than others.

The benches that form the center of neighborhood activity. In the morning its occupants are the older Bapaks and Ibus, in the afternoon the children stake their claim, then finally the middle aged Indonesians just returning from work and waiting for their nasi goreng.

The Bapaks

Among my favorite things to do on a Tuesday night in Indonesia while I'm waiting for my Mie Goreng (fried noodles) to be cooked up for Rp. 6000 (about 65 cents) is to sit and chat with the old men in my neighborhood. They always ask the same questions in simple Indonesian, knowing full well that if they introduce any new vocabulary I wont understand. While I'm pulling out all of my Indonesian in an attempt to reexplain that I will go home in June they consistently offer me a Kretek cigarette (Mom stop reading now). Kreteks are an Indonesian specialty, onomatopoeticly named so as to distinguish it from the sounds of other cigarettes. They are loaded with tar (39mg per cig) and just are completely unhealthy, even more than other cigarettes. It is however, incredibly relaxing. After a long day of four 90 minute classes trying to explain English grammar to a bunch of 15 year olds who want to do nothing more than play games, it is a nice break.

As I wait for Pak Budi to cook up my noodles, I sit on a bench and chat for ten minutes almost every night. Sometimes, I look around and try to count all of the ways my life is different now than it was last year. Last year, my social circle was limited to the 20-22 year old demographic. Everyone I knew drove cars, wasn't that religious, and more than often our conversations revolved around Snooki's latest antics on the Jersey Shore. This year, I spend a lot of my time with people over 60, all of whom wake up at 4am daily in time for morning prayers, and who find it exciting when a new speedbump is installed in the neighborhood.

The primary mode of transport around my neighborhood is by pedicab. Despite being way too expensive, completely useless, and clogging all of the roads, they are staffed by a cadre of drivers who always talk to me despite knowing only two words of English ("hello" and "mister").

Hanging out with people significantly older than me who I can only communicate with through a mixture of simple words and acting things out, is very challenging, but also very relaxing.

These two guys stopped me as I was coming home from picking up my laundry and insisted that I sit with them. They offered me coffee and we spoke for a little while until I discovered their real purpose - translation. Somehow they had acquired an imitation US bond issued in the 1920's and wanted it explained in Indonesian. My only hope is that they didn't think that they actually owned US bonds.

My Friends

Everyday I start each day with a ten minute walk to school, and finish with a ten minute walk back at around four o clock. The walk back is usually far more exciting if only because I am consistently hounded by children who persistently ask the same questions that they really should know the answer to by now. “MISTER JACK” they yell at the top of their lungs as if I was just returning to the neighborhood after living in Canada for ten years. Then its always they same, “apa itu?” – “what is that?” they inquire of my ipod, “dari mana?” – where are you coming from.

The gang in one of the rare moments they aren't trailing me around.

When I first arrived the questions were more persistent, but recently they have become somewhat casual, as if I am actually having a conversation with these little terrors. One day I went to visit a high school in another city and they gave me three enormous boxes of brownies (a popular delicacy here – why exactly, I’m not sure). Instead of becoming even fatter than my students apparently think I have become and eating these things, I literally took one of the boxes of brownies and walked around the neighborhood until I had none of the candies left. The normally rambunctious group of children seemed to become cautiously optimistic that something good was happening. One by one they bravely ate the brownie they had taken, and then, upon realizing how many I had, demanded another.

A university student who lives next to me and can speak pretty good English always jokes with me whenever I’m sitting on my porch and the same kids come back by turning to me and exclaiming with feigned surprise “your friends are back!”

Street festivals

The same neighbor also is one of the only people that speaks good enough English to be helpful in almost any task. As a result, I usually ask her to help me perform basic tasks that my Indonesian will not be useful in solving. For example, one day when I returned from dinner to find that my key no longer worked (and I couldn’t call anyone else to help me because my whole school went to a wedding) she walked me down to the street and spoke with one of the bakso vendors (meatball) who showed up at my house with his tools. Five minutes and three dollars later, I had a new lock.

In the aforementioned story about the tent you can see in the picture above, I was really curious to know why a tent was above my street. When I asked one of my neighbors she said it was a yasinan and that it was a type of Muslim prayer – or at least that’s what I think she said, too be honest I couldn’t really understand her. I was even more confused when another neighbor said that there would be dangdut music (a traditional Indonesian music charachterized by high pitched and loud vocals and traditional instruments) and dancing. Usually these two things do not go together.

I waited patiently for my English-speaking neighbor to return, expecting that when she arrived she would be able to explain what was going on. When she finally did come back later that evening, I asked her what the deal was:

“Its for a Yasinan Jack, you know? Yasinan?”

“No, actually I don’t, what is it?”

“Humm…. Well, I can’t really explain it, its just a Yasinan!”

I just decided after that to stop wondering why strange structures are erected over my street.

PS

So that’s my neighborhood, I should also let you know that this weekend I went to Yogyakarta. Yogya is a small city about 325 km west of Surabaya, but is particularly important in Indonesia because it is essentially the cultural heart of Java.

Sunrise at Borobudur Temple.

The Javanese language is on all of the street signs, it is still ruled by its Sultan. It is also (usually) the place where Indonesia’s religious diversity lives on in relative harmony. I say relative because just this past weekend several churches were burned in retaliation for a Christian man distributing pamphlets critical of Islam.

Students from an Islamic school visiting the world's largest Buddhist temple, pluralism in action? hopefully...

However, it does have two of the most beautiful temples I have ever seen. The first, Borobudur is the world’s largest single Buddhist temple. We visited it at sunrise, and then after we went on to Prambanan, one of the world’s largest Hindu temples. Both are over 1000 years old and remain in pretty good condition thanks to government support and UNESCO backing.

Ash path from Mt Merapi (in the distance).

This past year though, both were well within target of Mt. Merapi, the volcano that erupted for weeks this past November, blanketing Yogya and both temples with over 6cm of ash. You can see in the above photo the flow of Merapi and the devestation it caused, literally wiping from the map the village that use to stand where this photo was taken.

Prambanan Temple, Central Java, Indonesia.

Sampai nanti semuanya! See you later everyone!

Mr. Bob and Ms. Jennifer

Enjoying Indonesian BBQ at the nicest warung (food stall) in Indonesia.

Cultural Differences

One thing that is very different about Indonesian culture is that waiting in line is really not as important as in the US. From what I've seen, this has begun to change and many people have started making an effort to wait their turn, but it is far from being the case for everyone. This is no more evident than at the airport.

Last week, I was waiting to check in to a flight at the Surabaya Airport. There was a line of about 20 people waiting patiently to check in. I was incredibly impressed. So many times I have been frustrated by having to fight my way with everyone else to the front, only to have my conscience kick in and let the woman in front of me go first (who inevitably turns out to also be checking in her entire extended family).

Anyway, this time things seemed to be going well. As I was waiting in line, a very nice Indonesian man who was standing behind me asked me in English where I was from. The guy, Abdul, was incredibly courteous and seemed to have a genuine interest in what I was doing in Indonesia. As we progressed towards the front he asked me some of the usual questions, "how long have you been here?" "do you like Surabaya?" "are you married?"

Finally we got within two people of the front of the line. My flight was leaving in about 45 minutes and - having been used to airport checkins in America - I was starting to get nervous. It was then that Abdul, who had been standing behind me in line, not only jumped in front of me to hand his reservation to the desk (while I was stuck looking for mine), but also managed to shove his three children, wife and two people I assumed were his parents in front of me. I waited for a further 10 minutes while Abdul argued with the airline representative over seats, baggage limits and the airport tax until finally it was my turn. As he was leaving Abdul beamed a huge smile at me and said "sampai jumpa" which literally translates to "until we meet again."

... and meet again we will, Abdul.

Orang Tua Saya di Indonesia! My Parents in Indonesia!

My mom with her new friend on the bus tour of Surabaya.

Not this last week but the one before it, I may have been the happiest person in Indonesia (a difficult task as this may be the happiest country on earth). My parents came for a week-long visit to Indonesia. They arrived on a Saturday night after flying from San Francisco to Hong Kong (14 Hours), Hong Kong to Singapore (5 Hours), Singapore to Jakarta (1.5 Hours), and Jakarta to Surabaya (1 Hour). Needless to say, they were exhausted.

I waited with the 75 or so Indonesians who were also waiting for friends or family. When my mom came up we both ran up to see each other and hugged for what must have been ten minutes. The people around us appeared to be baffled as to what these two bules could possibly be doing at the Surabaya Airport that would make them so happy to see each other.

That night we went back to our hotel ready to begin a very fun vacation. On Sunday, we did the one touristy thing you can in Surabaya, go to a cigarette factory! We started by taking a free bus tour around the city at 9am. We learned all about the Indonesian struggle for independence (which Surabaya was the center of), the mythical foundations of the city and about Javanese culture. Despite being the only three people not from Indonesia, our guide still insisted on speaking in English about 70% of the time. My parents quickly adjusted to two parts of Indonesia on that tour.

Firstly, Indonesians are amongst the friendliest people in the world. Everyone on our tour wanted to greet my parents and I with what little English they could, the best of which was when little kids would run up to my mom or dad, shout "MY NAME IS," and laugh hysterically before sprinting away (without telling us their name). Throughout our stay, they would discover how much of a part of my life personal conversations are. They were constantly asked about their jobs, their other children, what they think of Indonesia, how long they have been married and even how old they are. Sidenote - one of my students asked my parents when they visited the school how old they were, and when my dad hesitantly told them he looked around and proclaimed "wow."

Five of the two hundred kids of my neighborhood with my parents.

Secondly, Indonesians LOVE taking photos. Throughout their trip, my mom and dad were stopped and asked to take photos with everyone (12 year old girls all the way up to 65 year old men with cellphone cameras). I'm pretty sure that both my mom and dad found this to be among the more amusing parts of their visit. That second night we followed the bus tour of the city with a visit to Al Akbar Mosque (the second largest in Southeast Asia). As I was walking with my dad around the interior, a very stern looking Indonesian man approached us. I thought he was going to reprimand us for doing something wrong, but as soon as he got to us he broke into a huge smile and asked us where we were from. Five minutes later he politely requested to take a picture with us, only to be disappointed that his camera had no more memory space.

In Surabaya they also visited my neighborhood. They played with and met the same people that greet me in Indonesian every night when I return from work. They played with the kids who constantly keep me entertained, they sat on the porch which is constantly filled with jovial Indonesians, and were lucky enough to meet Ibu Kartini - my delightful neighbor and surrogate mother in Indonesia. I think they were able to see how I can be so happy here in Indo, if only because I'm always surrounded by so many amazing people.

My Indonesian Ibu and my real Ibu and Bapak.

On Monday morning we did what both my parents said was unquestionably their favorite part of the trip: a visit to SMA Khadijah!! We arrived at around 7 in the morning to what was a fantastic welcome. We had been privileged to have dinner with some teachers and administrators from my school (most of whom speak very very good English), so my parents already knew that they would be well received, but neither could anticipate the degree to which that was the case.

I mentioned to the principal of my school that my parents were planing on coming about a week before they arrived, and he suggested that classes be canceled and all 500 students gather in the main hall to be addressed by my parents. While this no doubt would have been hilarious, I decided that visiting individual classes would be a more effective use of their time.

When we arrived we were greeted with everything from coffee and tea to traditional Javanese cakes that my parents and I swallowed up. My school's principal, Pak Suwito, proceeded to tell my parents about the school. Of all the things they were impressed with, what really got to them was how the school has transformed itself. Just six years ago, the school had three computers that had to serve over 500 students. Today it has over 130 (over one for every four students). My dad, as someone who has spent his entire career working in technology, was very impressed.

Arti, center, was assigned to be the photographer for the day and follow my parents around taking pictures, with my parents, right, and Pak Suwito, left.

We started with a tour of the school led by Pak Suwito and some of the other teachers. In the course of just two hours, we were able to see almost the entire complex as were were shuttered from class to class. In almost every room, my parents were presented with questions. My personal favorite question was when the students asked them what they thought of Surabaya. I had helped them prepare for this one and they always augmented their answer by telling them the truth: "Surabaya is MUCH better than Jakarta!" This always elicited cheers and applause (Surabaya and Jakarta are like Boston and New York are to Americans, people from the first city are constantly trying to achieve the recognition that they believe their city - which is smaller and less known internationally - deserves).

My parents answer questions from a class. My dad told this class that when I am in a bad mood they should just tell me "Mr. Jack, Go Sox." They were incredibly confused as to why that would cheer me up.

On the suggestion of some of the staff, we returned to the teachers room just before we had to leave. My parents were invited to address the teachers and to listen to a welcome dance. Some of the 12th grade students performed some welcome music called the Qasidah Al Banjari. As they were sitting there listening to beautiful Arabic music and getting the attention of so many teachers I think both my parents were totally amazed. No where in the world that they have been have they been as well received as they were that morning. Being refferred to as Mr. Bob and Ms. Jennifer they were welcomed fully as a part of the community.

My parents with Anas (aged 6) and Uyun (aged 9). I call them guru-guru saya Bahasa Indonesia - my Indonesian teachers.

My parents fell in love with my school as my school did with them. They instantly posted an article about their visit to their website which can be seen here.

On Monday, we left for what would prove to be one of the most beautiful places we were to go: Lombok. Located about an hour flight away from Surabaya, Lombok is proudly known by those who live there as "the new Bali." While Bali is quickly becoming overcrowded, too expensive and dedicated more and more to serving Australian college kids, Lombok is none of that. Lombok has both beautiful Hindu temples, and impressive Mosques. It also is known for the beautiful quality of its hundreds of beaches and little islands.

This part of the trip was a mix of lying on perfect white sand beaches, visiting awe inspiring temples and meeting even more friendly Indonesian people. On our second day there, we finally escaped the confines of our hotel to explore a beautiful temple built into volcanic rocks on the side of the ocean. As the sun set and we were drizzled with some light rain we entered the temple. With sashes tied around our waists we walked towards the front and the smell of inscense hit us. The combination of all of these senses being affected at the same time led to one of the most memorable visits to any religious site in my lifetime.

At a Hindu temple carved centuries ago from volcanic rock.

We also visited craft villages all across the island with the help of our driver. My parents were able to return to America with beautiful pottery, wood carvings and handwoven clothes. In each place, they were shocked to see how dedicated to their craft people were. It was easy to see also how tourism has been affecting it (largely I think for the better at this point). When we were at the weaving village, my dad wanted to buy some things but didn't have enough cash. The women who ran the cooperative quickly told him: "Its no problem, we take visa!"

With the women from the weaving cooperative and our driver who calls himself "Harry, like Harry Potter."

We also spent two days in the paradise that is the neighboring Gili Islands. The Gilis may honestly be among the world's most picturesque places. They are all home to no more than about 2000 people between the three of them, and have some of the nicest beaches in the world. In Southeast Asia they are quickly acquiring a reputation for the best diving around. We braved our fears and all took part in an hour long dive with the help of our French instructor who sounded like she honestly could be Jacques Cousteau's neice. I kept thinking to myself that I should title my facebook album about the Gilis "Heaven is a Place on Earth." Then I remembered how cliche naming facebook albums after songs is.

At the end of their trip I think my parents returned to America with an experience they will never forget. They discovered that Indonesians are an amazing people surrounded by an amazing landscape. One that I remind myself every day is a privilege to live amongst. A privilege which I hope never to forget.

What Happens on the Weekends

I have now adopted a policy where each week I will give an insight into the lighter parts of Indonesian culture, here is the first:

Last week, before one of my lessons, one of my students raised his hand and casually said: “Mr. Jack, I think you are fatter than you were before.” I was thrown off my game and didn’t know how to react. Perhaps the fried food that I was eating had finally caught up with me and I had become not just a bule, but a fat bule as well!

This little girl is incapable of making a normal face when I take a picture of her.

I had heard that this was part of the culture here but this was the first time I encountered it. Especially in light of the fact that I was about to give a lesson on comparatives, I decided to make a joke of it. I told the class never to tell a bule woman that she has gotten fatter but that I didn’t mind.

For the next day or so I found myself being even more superficial than I normally am. I consistently checked out myself in the mirror if only to reassure myself that I was not becoming the Chris Farley of Indonesia. I even asked the teachers at my school, and with one exception, they all agreed with the student that I was becoming quite chunky. They also informed me that the student probably meant it as a compliment. In his eyes, I was becoming happy and comfortable with my surroundings. Being fat is not a bad thing, it is really only a thing.

Having come to terms with this comment a few days ago, I joked about it with an Indonesian friend of mine who is about my age. When I told her – I expected her to laugh. Her response: “I think you are! Look at your arms! Look at your fingers!”

Alas, Indonesia has finally agreed, I am apparently now a fat bule…

Weekend Life in Surabaya

I teach five days a week and spend part of a sixth day on running the English club for the students. Needless to say, I spend a lot a lot of my time at Khadijah. For the other days and the time I’m not working I fill it with a variety of activities. The most prominent time waster is by far watching DVDs. Prices on obviously pirated DVDs here can be as low as 70 cents for a movie, and can provide the entertainment and the comforts of home that I miss so much. In the past two months I’ve watched a stack of DVDs so big I need two hands to hold them. Sometimes though I try to mix up and try new things and to meet new people. Luckily for me, Surabaya is a very well developed city with a large population both of expatriates from all over the world and of English-speaking Indonesians. I have a lot of fun during the week and even more fun during the weekend. My dad asked me a few weeks ago what a typical weekend is like for me and the best way I think I can highlight this is simply to explain what I did the last two weekends.

A month ago:

What seems like yesterday – but was actually almost a month ago – I had a seriously fun trip with four other ETAs to the Island of Madura to see the Bull Racing festival, which Indonesians call the Karapan Sapi. Everyone arrived on Friday night and we had a driver (for only 45 dollars a day) take us Saturday morning to the regional capital of Pamekasan. Madura and Surabaya – despite being connected by a 4km bridge called the Suramadu Bridge are worlds apart.

The Suramadu Bridge: 4 kilometers separate the most developed

and least developed places in East Java

While maybe a third of the women in Surabaya wear headscarves, literally almost every woman on Madura does. We learned quickly that the culture of Madura is simply quite different than that of Surabaya. The first night the five of us went out for dinner and tried to find some kind of beer that we could have. We did not discover until later that the reason it was so difficult to find beer is because Islamic law is actually enforced in the regency of Madura. While alcohol is simply annoyingly expensive in most of Indonesia, in Madura it isn’t even legal. After trying three convenience stores – which sell beer almost everywhere else on Java – three of us eventually returned to the hotel to rest up for the next day. Two of the people I was with continued on after hearing that a man known only as Pak Budi might have some for them to buy. A few hours later they returned with two water bottles filled with beer. This Pak Budi character apparently goes to Surabaya occasionally to buy beer and brings some back with him to Madura. He seemed to be everything one would expect a bootleg beer salesman on an Islamic Island in Indonesia to be. In the photos we saw, the thumb-less Pak Budi was rocking a hilariously undersized tank top and smiling broadly as he poured Bintang into aqua bottles. Needless to say, I think I at least realized after this that we were not in Surabaya anymore.

The next day we arrived at around seven o’clock in the morning at the parade grounds to watch the pre-race festivities. All throughout the summer they have bull races for people to watch all across the island of Madura, but this is the Governor’s Cup – the final and biggest bull racing session in all of Madura and the one that draws the big crowds. Our tickets for the festivities cost Rp. 5000 - the equivalent of about 58 cents. It may have been the best 58 cents I ever spent.

The bulls and their jockey being paraded around the stadium.

The first race is at nine o’clock. For a few hours before there are a series of parades around the grounds where the teams will show off their prize bulls around the grounds. A show that is complete with a full band playing traditional Indonesian music and all of the people that are involved in the entire operation from the training period to the actual jockey.

The boys who have the privilege of riding these bulls, as you may be able to tell from the photo above, are no older than 12. They are placed on a plastic sled while the bulls they ride hurl themselves at a speed of at least 40 miles an hour towards the finish line. Imagine letting a twelve year old drive a motorcycle they cannot control except to make it go faster and that’s what these bull races were. Add in some Indonesian cultural performances and mix it with some fantastic tension and the picture becomes complete. While they are usually over after about ten seconds, they are also luckily very well controlled and we didn’t see any of the kids fall off. The races are currently in that limbo stage where they are about to get corporate sponsorship and are making that transition to the commercialized events we are generally used to in the west. At one point, we even got in with they governor and were able to sit with the governor of the Madura regency to watch the bull races. He even asked for a photo with us – I just hope my face doesn’t show up in a visit Madura ad somewhere in the near future. Even if it did though, I think it would be justified, after all I think Madura is a great place to visit if only for the experience of doing so.

Three weekends ago:

Three weekends ago was Halloween. Or at least it would have been if this wasn’t Indonesia. Despite being worlds away from orange and black streamers or the haunted houses of America, I still experienced Halloween. That Friday, after teaching in the morning, and trying to catch up on sleep for the rest of the day, I went out with some Indonesian friends. I met these particular friends through couchsurfing, a global network of people that love to do nothing more than meet other people from far away places. All of them speak English very very well and many have visited countries in the west. They are super fun to hang out with, and I think serve as a more palpable introduction to Indonesians my own age. They have introduced me to true nongkronging (hanging out) and that Friday night we had a great night of laughing and talking until super late.

The following day I went with the same group of couchsurfers to a rujak party. Rujak is essentially a fruit salad covered with a peanut sauce which can take many different tastes depending on which spices are used to make it and which fruit it is paired with. I was introduced there to some fruits, which I have never before even heard of or knew existed, but also some fruits which I had grown familiar with (sour Mangos for example). Rujak varieties can be so different and telling that according to Indonesian legend, when a pregnant woman makes rujak, the flavor of the sauce will tell if her soon to be born baby will be a boy or a girl. After a few hours of midafternoon rujaking, I left with some friends to actually go to a full on Halloween party.

A group of English teachers I know in Surabaya who all teach for private courses (most of whom are actually English and not American) were throwing a Halloween party that was everything I remembered it being. For one night, everything, from the food to the costumes to the people made me believe I was back in America. It was at the same time, reassuring that this group of people existed, and yet also mindblowing, that this group of people existed in a place like Surabaya.

One of the thousands of photos with smiling Indonesians I have been asked to be a part of

Two weekends ago was very similar to three weekends ago, so much so that I even think of it as being exactly like what a normal weekend will become for me.

Last weekend:

Last weekend, I joined with the other two ETA’s from the Surabaya area to visit the city of Malang and my friend Eric who is teaching there. After a super long trip that lasted five hours and should have lasted two (traffic and incompetent drivers make for a nasty combination) I arrived late on Friday night. Malang is great if only because it is not Surabaya. It is a welcome release from the maddening traffic, heat and congestion of my adopted city. Most importantly, because it is in the mountains it is significantly cooler and easier to be outside in. Eric has a sweet house and the four of us Americans spent a really relaxing weekend exploring the city and more importantly enjoying each other’s company. It was the second of what is sure to be many long escapes from Surabaya. I have to admit though, at the end of the weekend I was almost anxious to get back to Surabaya. I have no idea why, I just did.

Jawa

This week I received literally dozens of messages wondering if I was affected by either the earthquake, tsunami or one of two volcanic eruptions that struck Indonesia recently. Luckily, I wasn't. Thank you all so much for the concern.

I knew almost nothing about Indonesia when I applied for my Fulbright grant almost exactly a year ago today. I chose it if only because I knew it was a less competitive place to get a grant to, and that it has the world's largest Muslim population. So, here are some of the things I have learned in the short two and a half month period I have been here.

About Indonesia:
Population: 240, 000, 000 (making it the fourth most populous country on earth, behind China, India and the US)
Number of Islands: 17,500
Timezones: 3
Independence in 1945 after 350 years of Dutch rule
Currency: Rupiah (about 9,000 Rp = $ 1)
Over 700 languages are spoken in Indonesia, but only one (Bahasa Indonesia) is spoken by almost the entire population as the result of government programs to encourage nationalist identification.
The island I live on, Java, is the world's most populous with over 130,000,000 people. Javanese culture is historically, economically, politically, and just about everythingly the most central culture to the development of the country. Only one of the Indonesian presidents was not born on the Island of Java.
86% of the population is Muslim, 9% some form of Christian, 3% Hindu and 2% Buddhist. I should mention that Indonesian Muslims, from my experiences here, generally embody every open-minded, progressive and welcoming attitude possible. In one notable example I think I can demonstrate this. One day I was wandering around a mall here with some Indonesian friends and I saw the one woman I have seen here wearing a Burka (full body covering). While I turned my head in amazement, it was nothing next to the reaction of the Indonesians I saw who were significantly more shocked than I was.
I should also include a brief point. In Islam, alcohol is harem or forbidden. As a result, maybe three in four Indonesians will never try any form of alcohol. The side effect being that it is very hard to find a drink. I live in a city of over four million people, and I could count the number of bars on one hand.

Some Geography:
Indonesia is huge. To fly from Papua, on the right side of this map to Aceh, on the left side of this map would take 8 hours on the fastest jetliner. Thats longer than a flight from Miami to Seattle.
In this map I live in the province of East Java or Jawa Timur. My house is located in Indonesia's second largest city, Surabaya.

Here is a map of Surabaya, I live in 7d, south of the river from the zoo.
http://www.sparklingsurabaya.com/tourist_map/

So there it is, Indonesia.

Also, before I go. While I live in a huge city with its own wikipedia page and a fleet of airconditioned taxis, my experience is by no means the average. Most ETA's are located in either rural or undeveloped areas, necessitating the use of motorbikes, lacking air conditioning and especially access to internet.
One night a few weekends ago, I texted another ETA telling him that I was getting drinks with another American friend. He responds as such: "Drinks with another American? our lives are so different, I'm sitting in another blackout on my island of a few hundred people that I can't leave if I wanted to because there is no boat tomorrow, potato, pahtato."
Anyway, I feel guilty about painting by default a pretty incomplete picture of Indonesia, so I have included links to some pretty good blogs for you to read to get a fuller picture of life in the archipelago.

Rick Ferrera, Maluku (Eastern Indonesia)
http://rickferrera.wordpress.com/

JT Erbaugh, Pati, Central Java
http://patitime.blogspot.com/

Alison Dierlinger, Lombok, Nusa Tenggara
http://alisondieringer.wordpress.com/

Emily Ziedler, Palembang, Sumarta
http://indoemily.wordpress.com/

Indonesia's national motto is Bhinekka Tunggal Ika, a Javanese expression that literally means "unity in diversity." Indonesians seem to be universally strengthened by the adversity they face. They respond to challenges like these tragedies with remarkable unity that can bring millions of people together. I hope that through reading more you can find the motivation to come visit the country that warns travelers they are visiting a place that is "dangerously beautiful."

Khadijah

Somedays I wonder what it is that makes life here so different. It could be so many things: the overwhelming friendliness of the people here, the heat and humidity that make walking down the street feel like 10 minutes in an oven, the sheer numbers of motorbikes that crowd every street in Surabaya.... While there are so many things that distinguish life in Surabaya, there are so many things that remind me that it really isn't that different after all.

A typical day for me begins at 545 am. I wake up, take an impossibly cold shower, eat some yogurt for breakfast (Indonesians are routinely shocked that my breakfast does not include rice), grab somethings for school, and by 615 I'm sitting on the back of another teachers motorbike zipping along for the 4 minute ride to school (two minutes of which is spent sitting in traffic). On the days when I leave later for school I usually walk. The walk takes ten minutes and despite the fact that I've been walking around my neighborhood of Karangrejo for the past three weeks people still do double-takes when they see me (usually children will scream at the top of their lungs "HELLO MR. JACK!!!"

Upon arriving at my school - SMA Khadijah - I usually walk straight for the teachers lounge and stand in front of the air conditioner for at least ten minutes. Khadijah is an Islamic school with international standards. This means that fully one -third of their curriculum is dedicated to Islamic studies. It also means that because they are a school which the government here classifies as "international standards" they must teach part of all classes in English. Every monday and wednesday we have English days, during which all announcements are made in English, all classes are supposed to be taught in English and the school becomes fully international.

Two pictures of my school, not a bad place to work at all...
The court is actually a partial gift from the Development Basketball League (an NBA project to create a sports league for students that prioritizes academics equally with athletics).


Our classes begin at 645 after morning prayers. Two days a week I have morning class, during which I'm usually waiting for my coffee to kick in at the same time I'm trying to teach a lesson. The classes usually last for about an hour and twenty minutes, and while somedays my schedule is quite free, other days I teach literally every period of the day. This week I taught three different lessons.

In the tenth grade we were practicing improving our skills with introductions. We reviewed different ways in which people can introduce themselves, and also important information to convey to the people you are meeting. My tenth grade classes often require that I speak slowly and accentuate my words so they can understand, luckily - and it should come to no surprise to anyone reading this - my voice is loud enough they can hear me perfectly. During that exercise I had all of the students write down the name of a celebrity - whether Indonesian, English, French or otherwise and put it in a hat, they then selected another name and the students had to pretend to be that person and have their classmates guess who they were by asking questions like "where are you from?" "what is your job?" "how old are you?" and so on. Some of the names they wrote down were Indonesian (Rhoma Irama, Agnes Monica, Sukarno, etc.) and others were from all over. In one class three people wrote down the Prophet Muhammad, and three people also wrote down Justin Bieber (culture clash possibly?). One girl had not only written down Justin Bieber but had also written down "I heart JB!" on her card.

One of the eleventh grade classes (science 1) asked for a photo after class, here it is:


The eleventh grade classes this week were practicing their listening skills and speaking skills. This week we listened to some English language songs and they split into groups and tried to analyze the songs. I played a variety of songs but two of the most common were Yesterday by the Beatles and A Message 2010 by Coldplay. The students were very good at explaining these songs and speaking infront of the class. Sometimes I feel it is very necessary to try thinking outside of the box with the eleventh grade because their textbook is not the best. In one exercise on using the past tense it had ten questions, four of which had grammatical errors in them. The textbook also has hilarious nonsense words and sentences which are simply hilarious.
The picture below shows my favorite odd sentence, it reads "I'm sorry, Miss. My body is not delicious." Ohhh Indonesia....


Classes usually end at 1, followed by an hour for lunch and then finally the afternoon classes run from 2 to 330. I have an afternoon speaking class every day during this period. This week I had them arrange pictures in order and then tell a story about the pictures. The pictures were just drawings about a family that needs to call a plumber. In one of the funnier moments of the week, one student forgot the word for dripping so instead just said the "water was mini-mini."

After classes I return to the teachers lounge to wait for a ride home. During this time the teachers room also is the spot where the teachers children choose to hang out. While I work at the high school, Khadijah is actually part of a K-12 school that also includes a foundation headed by the former Indonesian Secretary of Women's Emancipation under the first democratically elected President of Indonesia. All of the children are fantastic Indonesian teachers for me and have an incredible paitence as they try to get me to understand some of the more difficult words. Two of them in particular are Uyun who is a nine year old girl and her little brother Anas who is six.
I took a picture of Anas for this blog because my day is really never complete until I've seen them and learned another Indonesian word from them.


At about 4 pm each day I return to my neighborhood and try to sleep a little before the next day begins. Knowning full well that there is bound to be some even crazier moment tomorrow.

A Year of Cold Showers

My sheets that the school bought for me. My counterpart humorously said it was so I wouldn't forget where I came from. He is right, I won't.

Apologies for not writing in this thing for a pretty long time, I have been stuck in a chaotic cycle of moving across Indonesia/ not having any internet.

I'm finally in Surabaya (the city I will be living in for the next 8 months). Now that the other 44 Americans I was living with in Bandung have all spread out to various parts of Indonesia (I'll provide some of their blogs in the next post), I've finally been thrown into the absurd culture shock that is Indonesia. Firstly, while my Bahasa Indonesia language skills are pretty much minimal at this point, I want to explain my experiences interacting with Indonesians to you by teaching you a few crucial Bahasa words.

The first is belum - not yet

The first question I am almost ALWAYS asked by Indonesian people is if I'm married. So many times in America I expressed total shock when I heard someone my age was getting married. Here it is totally reasonable and infact encouraged to be married by or around my age (23). Indonesian and more specifically Javanese culture (Java is by far the most populous island in Indonesia with almost 150,000,000 people and also happens to be the island that I live on) places a great importance on family. In fact the importance is so great that many people live in houses with their extended families next door so that they can all be together. The encouragement or more likely pressure to have a family is so great that when people ask if you are married the proper thing to say in response is always not yet. If you respond no, then they will think you have - wait for it - no intention of ever getting married. One of the teachers I work with, whose English is very good but not perfect, told me a few days ago that someday, when I do get married, I need to "find a child."

On another note, as a result of being in a foreign country and unmarried, I live alone. While almost no one I know in the US would be too surprised to hear this, Indonesians always recoil in shock when they find that I return to an empty home. My school even offered to have like 4 different teachers who live in my neighborhood move into my house until I settle in. My favorite moment is when people ask me if I'm frightened living alone. Even super macho Indonesian guys who ride motorbikes with leather jackets and brag about their soccer skills will turn to me and loudly ask: "aren't you scared??"

While all of this is very different for me, I have to say I like it. The word community here means so much more than it ever has to me. Every community has a local leader who assumes responsibility for all of the residents. Every time I open my door to go outside, there are people there. They help me find dinner, they ask over and over again if I need anything, they offer to fix things, they buy me food, they pretty much help with everything and anything. It may be different, but I love it.

The second is bule - foreigner (lit. translation - white skinned - not totally pc I know)

I have never stuck out more in a place than I do in Indonesia. Even Vietnam had plenty of tourists so people were used to seeing many people who look different. While Surabaya is one of the most international cities in Indonesia, it is still rare to find non-Asian people anywhere outside the gated communities and malls that most expats hang around. After less than a week here in Surabaya I have already started to get excited anytime I see another non-Asian person.

I'm not the only one who has noticed. My students often refer to me as the new bule (I'm replacing another Fulbrigter who was also at my school), and if I walk around its not at all uncommon to have people do double-takes everytime they see me and turn to their friends, point and say "bule!" My favorite moment so far in Indonesia is without question what we could call a bule moment.

My second night in Surabaya I was sitting in my living room and heard a knock on my door. Assuming it was another one of the endless parade of welcoming neighbors I opened the door without question. On the other side of the door were at least 20 children. When they saw me they all yelled "BULE!!!" It may have been one of the happiest moments of my life. My neighbor Desti, who is an English speaking Univ. student, loves it when the children of the neighborhood make their nightly pilgrimage to my front door. The other day when I played in the intense soccer game of the neighborhood kids (and got schooled by some badass 10 year olds) she said to me "children love Bules!"


Me and my new friends on my second night


...and the third night...

That being said there are some definite comforts I miss and only serve to remind me every day that I'm in a foreign place. Referring to the title of this post, I should make it known that I don't have hot water. Not at all. When I asked one of the teachers at my school if Indonesians always take cold showers she responded by telling me that "no one would ever shower with warm water when it is so hot outside." As you can see by the picture below of my bathroom, you might notice that I have a manual flush toilet. My bathroom in itself is an experience. It may be a year of cold showers, but I know it will also be a year where I warm up (pun intended) to a new and beautiful culture.

The third is polisi cepek - a guy who stands in the middle of the street and decides to help direct traffic in return for sporadic driver donations of 10 cents (1,000 Rp.)

Traffic in Surabaya (well, all of Indonesia actually) is total chaos. A hurricane of public transit, cars, motorbikes, bicycles and people walking make for crazy but sometimes hilarious traffic. These guys keep the city from becoming even more congested. I don't think the absurdity of the concept of this will ever get old to me.

The fourth is actually two words, Bapak or Pak - elder male and Ibu or Bu - elder female.

In Indonesia, and specifically Java, age is very important. It determines the structure of the society and one of the first cultural faux pas that I made was not reffering to my school's headmaster using this title. Luckily Pak Suwito is a well travelled and super friendly guy so he didn't mind at all. After I called him Dr. Suwito once and got corrected by another teacher, I learned my lesson. Now it seems every other word I use is a title for an elder person, or a younger person (Mas for boys and Mbak for girls).

My students, in keeping with this tradition, universally call me, "Mr. Jack" I try to say hello to every student that I meet, and they almost always respond by saying "Hello, Mr. Jack!!" Their enthusiasm for America, learning English and just being teenagers is my favorite thing about teaching in Surabaya. They motivate me to wake up at the crazy hour of 545 every day to make my first class at 630. I return exausted each day at 4 pm, but still excited to be in such a vibrant city in a spectacular country.

One of the students at my school asked me if I had a personal motto, and the only thing I could think of was a quote I have always liked which reads: home is not where you live, it is where they understand you. I think today, this quote clearly hints that my home is back in America. I hope though, that while Indonesians may have trouble understanding me sometimes, I can understand them perfectly when my experience comes to an end eight months (delapan bulan) from now.

Selamat malam dari Surabaya!
Good night from Surabaya!

Climbing higher

I'm finally beginning to settle into Indonesia, in my second city (Bandung) and about to head to my third and final (Surabaya). Understanding the difference between Jakarta and Bandung is like understanding the difference between total chaos and normalcy (well.... as normal as life in Indonesia can be). We left the absurdity of Jakarta almost a full week and a half ago and arrived in Bandung 2.5 hours later.

Bandung is much more pleasant than Jakarta. There is less traffic, less pollution, less humidity, less people, pretty much less of everything. Because of it's high elevation in the mountains of West Java, it averages highs of 78 degrees instead of highs of 96 degrees like the rest of Indonesia does. We arrived for three weeks of training that will include (or has already included) learning elementary Bahasa Indonesia which is the Lingua Franca of Indonesia, and also the world's easiest language to learn - there are no tenses, genders, and everything pretty much follows as simple a set of forms as possible. We are also learning methods for teaching English in an Indonesian context.

These activities have really dominated our schedule as admittedly has the comforts of the hotel we are staying in. State department protocol apparently mandates that in addition to flying American flag carriers we have to stay in at least 4 star hotels wherever we go, translation = awesome. We are staying in the Sheraton Bandung which is more a compound than a hotel, complete with a sauna, two pools, hot tub, massages for 12 dollars, shuttle service to any point in Bandung, catered meals throughout and so much more.


This is a photo of some of my fellow ETAs outside on their respective balconies just after we arrived. When we did arrive we were greeted by complimentary tea and a performance of the Javanese dancers shown below. Needless to say there is little to complain about in life right now.

Also, as a part of our training we visited schools similar to those we are about to begin working at. I wish I had brought my camera because that has easily been one of best experiences here to date. The students were boarders at what Indonesians call pesantren or a local Muslim high with an emphasis in religion. Everyone was in uniform and the classes averaged about 30. Their biggest asset was their enthusiasm. In a class of all girls, they demonstrated incredible energy, answered every question they were asked with assertiveness and showed how great their desire to learn english. They also loved Justin Bieber, and their enthusiasm for pop culture trumped their interest in any other subject. Needless to say it was a really informative trip and got me really excited about moving to SMA Khadija in two weeks!

The first weekend we were here about half of the ETAs, including myself, visited another city called Garut and spent Saturday climbing a very very active volcano (not the one that is erupting right now...). The volcano has had two eruptions and provided incredible scenery of the surrounding area as well as the volcano itself. I posted a picture below but if you would like to see more check out my facebook photos here: http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2049838&l=88f5c42866&id=1243380068

Needless to say, it was pretty amazing. However, it was topped soon after by one of the best birthday celebrations I think I ever had (I turned 23 - dua puluh tiga- last Friday). This group of 44 people is easily one of the best I have ever been apart of and they made my bday super fun. It happened to be that we had just learned how to sing happy birthday several ways in Indonesian, and my fellow ETAs practiced at every opportunity on Friday, more public the better. We spent the night at one of the very few bars in Bandung that stays open during Ramadan: Cloud 9. It is named as such because of its incredible view of Bandung, and it also makes for a great place to spend a Friday night. If you are ever in Bandung check it out, always best to roll with a group of several dozen Americans. I snapped this photo while we were waiting for the photographer to arrive for our group shot. Thanks for a great bday everyone!