I've been thinking about articles and men's magazines. No, not those men's magazines (I only read them for the articles), I mean men's mags that actually have articles, like Ralph (Maybe) or Men's Health. Sometimes I think these mags simply publish articles for their potential in pictures. I'm reading an old issue of Men's Health (Refer to previous blog for my desperation for anything in English) and there is an article about employing martial arts strategies in the workplace. Interesting article, but I can't help but think they mostly wanted to do the article (and certainly gave it such a large spread) because of the Matrix style photos they could do of blokes in suits kung fu-ing each other's asses above their workspaces. I seem to recal Nick mentioning he felt some men's mags only did fashion pages so they could send guys to cool locations and show them setting up tents, or skateboarding down a banister or something equally interesting in the photo; the clothes were rarely the focus.
Anyway, that's all. I was reading the article over my dinner, as I broke my fast (yes! 14 hours! I made it! It wasn't that bad, really...), and the thought occurred to me. With no-one to whom to discuss this, I thought I'd float the idea and see if it got any bites...
Wednesday, September 27, 2006
Puasaku- saya ingin hari ini ada lebih cepat!
Just when you think art cannot sink to depths any lower, you discover another step down. And being so deprived of anything entertainment related in English, I lap it up. Has anyone seen 'Joe Dirt'? Ugh. Don't. Mildly amusing, very Adam Sandler in a not-so-inspired moment. The most interesting thing was discovering I had been right in spotting Kid Rock. No-one does skank quite like him.
And seriously, how did someone become inspired enough to make a 'Bourne' movie? Admittedly I am reading the third book in the series, and the first two may be better, but 'Bourne Ultimatum' is really bad. Badly written, bad storyline, and criminally huge. It eptiomises sequels- quick, let's get another money maker out while the public remembers the title. Robert Ludlum, how dare you deprive me of sleep. I have to get up at 4am!
Yes, I did say I am getting up at 4, not just being woken up. The title of this blog means "My fast- I hope today goes quickly." I am fasting today. Don't worry, this doesn't mean I have taken on Islam. It simply means I am inclined to take on dares. My students insited I should try for at least one day. So today is it. I rose at 4am, ate breakfast, went back to sleep. It's now 11, I am halfway through. I only became hungry maybe half an hour ago, so not bad so far. I am cheating though, as I am drinking water. Partially because I am not used to the climate yet, and secondly because I actually think it's quite dangerous to deliberately dehydrate oneself.
I guess another reason I am fasting is to connect with people here. Ramadhan is quite a private thing- celebration and feasting occurs at the end of the day with family. So if you don't have family, you feel very lonely. Public celebration will not occur until Lebaran, the end of the month. And during the day, people who are fasting are drawn together. So now I am one of them. Makes me feel slightly less alone. Although empty in a whole new way!!!!!
I don't trust the net to last long, it's taken ages to even get this page up. Hope to hear from people. Please :) comments mean a great deal.
And seriously, how did someone become inspired enough to make a 'Bourne' movie? Admittedly I am reading the third book in the series, and the first two may be better, but 'Bourne Ultimatum' is really bad. Badly written, bad storyline, and criminally huge. It eptiomises sequels- quick, let's get another money maker out while the public remembers the title. Robert Ludlum, how dare you deprive me of sleep. I have to get up at 4am!
Yes, I did say I am getting up at 4, not just being woken up. The title of this blog means "My fast- I hope today goes quickly." I am fasting today. Don't worry, this doesn't mean I have taken on Islam. It simply means I am inclined to take on dares. My students insited I should try for at least one day. So today is it. I rose at 4am, ate breakfast, went back to sleep. It's now 11, I am halfway through. I only became hungry maybe half an hour ago, so not bad so far. I am cheating though, as I am drinking water. Partially because I am not used to the climate yet, and secondly because I actually think it's quite dangerous to deliberately dehydrate oneself.
I guess another reason I am fasting is to connect with people here. Ramadhan is quite a private thing- celebration and feasting occurs at the end of the day with family. So if you don't have family, you feel very lonely. Public celebration will not occur until Lebaran, the end of the month. And during the day, people who are fasting are drawn together. So now I am one of them. Makes me feel slightly less alone. Although empty in a whole new way!!!!!
I don't trust the net to last long, it's taken ages to even get this page up. Hope to hear from people. Please :) comments mean a great deal.
Monday, September 25, 2006
Yaa Ramadhan
It is day two of Ramadhan, for those of you not in a muslim country, where you would already be accutely aware of this fact. It's quite odd, even though I was expecting it... the streets are so quiet because of course all restaurants are closed, but many other businesses are as well. The first few days of Ramadhan, and a few days before, are hari libur, holidays. So no school, and again, many businesses decide to close. Anyway, this means I have to eat noodles for lunch, and hope I can find somewhere close-ish to me that is open in the evening. I have discovered Ramdhan also means waking up at about 4am when my muslim neighbours wake up for predawn prayer, fasting and general activity. I swear there was music... I am not appreciating the waking-me-up-even-earlier-than-the-mezzuin aspect of Ramadhan. Ah well.
Transport in Indonesia is so... *interesting*. At times I think I want to get a motorbike, because I really enjoy riding with the wind and all that... but if I were driving it might be scarier. And Melbourne winters might not go so well with a bike. And having taken a half hour bike trip and discovering just how raw your backside feels, I began to appreciate a car so much more...
Amazed, but not surprised, to find myself in the middle of a joke about Indonesian transport on Saturday. "How many people can you fit in an Indonesian bus?" :"One more, one more!" This si true. I think you could comfortably fit ten, and at a stretch 15 people in an angkot. On a trip to Pantai Air Manis (Sweet Water Beach) I swear to you that I was in an angkot with 25 people and the biggest bulk bags of groceries I have ever seen! OHMYGOD! This was NOT the most comfortable trip of my life.
Air Manis itself was quite cool though. The beach is purty, the water is warm and has waves (most beaches I have seen are bay beaches), and we could walk out to Pulau Pisang (Banana Island) at low tide. Sadly, no actual bananas, the island is just shaped like one. There were also some pretty things like a carved wall (which I forgot to take photos of) and a 'rock' that looks like a man praying (it's not really a rock, it's concrete, perhaps built up over the original rock, perhaps not..), which has spurred a legend about a man who didn't respect his mother.
Anyway, I now need to say- damn Dan Brown. I have just read Angels and Demons (there isn't a great range of English writing in Padang), and that man annoys me. I think in many ways, such as characters, and the fact that Langdon seems more like a normal0ish guy, this book is better than The Da Vinci Code. But he still annoys me. And I do NOT need stupid hooks keeping me awake until the wee hours of morning. Damnit, the muezzin will wake me early, I need my sleep, Dan Brown!
Anyway, I have a feeling the net is going to die on me soon, so I'd better try and publish this blog. Two weeks til Melbourne :)
Transport in Indonesia is so... *interesting*. At times I think I want to get a motorbike, because I really enjoy riding with the wind and all that... but if I were driving it might be scarier. And Melbourne winters might not go so well with a bike. And having taken a half hour bike trip and discovering just how raw your backside feels, I began to appreciate a car so much more...
Amazed, but not surprised, to find myself in the middle of a joke about Indonesian transport on Saturday. "How many people can you fit in an Indonesian bus?" :"One more, one more!" This si true. I think you could comfortably fit ten, and at a stretch 15 people in an angkot. On a trip to Pantai Air Manis (Sweet Water Beach) I swear to you that I was in an angkot with 25 people and the biggest bulk bags of groceries I have ever seen! OHMYGOD! This was NOT the most comfortable trip of my life.
Air Manis itself was quite cool though. The beach is purty, the water is warm and has waves (most beaches I have seen are bay beaches), and we could walk out to Pulau Pisang (Banana Island) at low tide. Sadly, no actual bananas, the island is just shaped like one. There were also some pretty things like a carved wall (which I forgot to take photos of) and a 'rock' that looks like a man praying (it's not really a rock, it's concrete, perhaps built up over the original rock, perhaps not..), which has spurred a legend about a man who didn't respect his mother.
Anyway, I now need to say- damn Dan Brown. I have just read Angels and Demons (there isn't a great range of English writing in Padang), and that man annoys me. I think in many ways, such as characters, and the fact that Langdon seems more like a normal0ish guy, this book is better than The Da Vinci Code. But he still annoys me. And I do NOT need stupid hooks keeping me awake until the wee hours of morning. Damnit, the muezzin will wake me early, I need my sleep, Dan Brown!
Anyway, I have a feeling the net is going to die on me soon, so I'd better try and publish this blog. Two weeks til Melbourne :)
Wednesday, September 20, 2006
A week of Immigrasi, translasi and broadcast-i...
Wooh. Today I found myself hanging out at Immigrasi, as my boss wants to extend my visa (this is because I haven't told her I am leaving... I'll tell her next week, after I get paid). Immigration is bad enough in Australia, I am led to believe. In Indonesia, where punctuality does not exist, time goes slowly and is considered very flexible. So we arrived at 9.20, filled in forms, and then had to wait a long time (the woman in the office couldn't indicate how long) to see the right person. 45 minutes later, we were in and out in about 5 minutes, with an instruction to return on Friday. Ugh.
So I did the famous thing on Saturday. Ya, me on radio. It was fun. They only played English songs as it was an English program, but I like some Indonesian music too. It's SO energetic, reminding me of the passion of eighties music. The pop is very danceable, and the rock is like Bryan Adams and Bon Jovi in their emotional heydays (which I personally love, being the dork I am). But most is on tape, not CD. I'm hoping to find a few CDs before I return.
I have begun translating Harry Potter 6 from Indonesian to English. I'm about 5 pages in- it is really hard. But it's also HEAPS of fun reading so slowly, because the story is unfolding bit by bit and I am so TENSE to find out what happens next (even though I have read the book in English, I forget the details). Reading it at this excrutiating pace, it is like I am really discovering the story. I don't think I'll finish it before I return, but it's fun anyway.
I am such a seasoned Padang-bule now. I have caught angkot (Tarago mini bus thang) on my own three times (!) and not gotten lost. I get excited when I see a bule, and point at them on the street, because I know they're only turis (tourists). And locals are so surprised at my capacity for chilli (so am I sometimes)- I out-chillied a Minang last week, eating fish. Hmm, actually this seems familiar as I type it, maybe I wrote that in my last blog. Oh well, I'm proud of it. :)
Hmmm, I can't believe the net is holding out so long. Oops, hope I don't jinx it by saying that! Better go and check emails while I still can.
P.S. Things I REALLY miss right now, apart from all of you, of course: western toilets; hot water; showers; decent chocolate; decent tea (I have discovered decent coffee, mercifully, and I LOVE Teh Es, a sweet black tea which you can get bottled, or at roadside stalls with cute cartoon cups); the OC; and my osteopath- someone crack my back, puh-LEASE!
So I did the famous thing on Saturday. Ya, me on radio. It was fun. They only played English songs as it was an English program, but I like some Indonesian music too. It's SO energetic, reminding me of the passion of eighties music. The pop is very danceable, and the rock is like Bryan Adams and Bon Jovi in their emotional heydays (which I personally love, being the dork I am). But most is on tape, not CD. I'm hoping to find a few CDs before I return.
I have begun translating Harry Potter 6 from Indonesian to English. I'm about 5 pages in- it is really hard. But it's also HEAPS of fun reading so slowly, because the story is unfolding bit by bit and I am so TENSE to find out what happens next (even though I have read the book in English, I forget the details). Reading it at this excrutiating pace, it is like I am really discovering the story. I don't think I'll finish it before I return, but it's fun anyway.
I am such a seasoned Padang-bule now. I have caught angkot (Tarago mini bus thang) on my own three times (!) and not gotten lost. I get excited when I see a bule, and point at them on the street, because I know they're only turis (tourists). And locals are so surprised at my capacity for chilli (so am I sometimes)- I out-chillied a Minang last week, eating fish. Hmm, actually this seems familiar as I type it, maybe I wrote that in my last blog. Oh well, I'm proud of it. :)
Hmmm, I can't believe the net is holding out so long. Oops, hope I don't jinx it by saying that! Better go and check emails while I still can.
P.S. Things I REALLY miss right now, apart from all of you, of course: western toilets; hot water; showers; decent chocolate; decent tea (I have discovered decent coffee, mercifully, and I LOVE Teh Es, a sweet black tea which you can get bottled, or at roadside stalls with cute cartoon cups); the OC; and my osteopath- someone crack my back, puh-LEASE!
Thursday, September 14, 2006
Whinge-la
OKay, this is going to be a gripe, because, damnit, I feel like it. And it's my blog, so if you don't like it... well... come back in a few days, I might be less grumpy.
Ugh. I am so SICK of being hit on, especially when neither the hitter nor the hittee have sufficient language skills to communicate clearly. The internet dude is PISSING me off, but the net here is cheap and relatively quick and its close to home. But he will not BACK OFF about coming to my house, and last night apparently he went to the school to look for me. What part of NO (or TIDAK) does he not understand?
Also, last night I met the fiancee of one of the previous teachers. He has good English, seems nice enough, asked if I wanted to grab dinner on Saturday- but advocated very strongly this was not a date. So I said ok, but now he's called the house today (of course he has the number, because his fiancee lived here) and is asking if I want to get breakfast. No. Go away.
Ugh (again), due to the heat here I am producing SO much oil, I am considering barrelling it and selling it to the Australian government. Yuk, I have to wash my face at least twice a day with oil control face wash. I hate pimples. Gross.
Today I feel sick (not just because I have been thinking about pimples). I don't know why, I didn't eat anything dodgy yesterday- in fact I ate in the fanciest place I've visited since leaving Australia. My conversation class went out for dinner for class, and one of the students (a well off older man) insisted on paying for everyone. But I couldn't lie on my tummy last night, and I still feel queasy now :(
And I hurt. While at first it seemed the heat here was better for my geriatric joints (knees, ankles, hips, shoulders and jaw all ache regularly. sook), this is countered by having to walk everywhere, a million bloody steps and cursed squat toilets. My knees are aching a lot more than they were in Aus. So after this I am going to the pool, and hopefully that will stretch my poor tense muscles.
And I'm tired, for some reason I couldn't sleep. Grump grump grump. I want to go home, and, I don't know, eat breakfast cereal or something, with real milk not UHT, and watch English language TV.
Actually, I really miss crappy Australian TV. I miss sitcoms and dramas where I understand the plotline. Just to prove my emotional stability has been reduced to that of a fifteen year old, yesterday I was listening to the OC soundtrack, and realised that it had soundbites from the series on one of the songs. I was having flashbacks to emotional bits of OC episodes and and almost cried. Loser :) I will justify this by saying it's not just the high emotional tension of the OC that caused my watery eyes, but also because an obsession with the OC was something I shared with Nick, Lisa, Caroline, Shannon and Robbie. Also because it reminds me of teaching in Aus, and weaving plotlines of the OC into spelling tests. And also because Mischa Barton reminds me a lot of my cousin, Rhiannon. And I miss people.
OK. So here's your cue to tell me to buck up- less than four weeks til I'm home. And to accept the male attention as flattering, rather than intrusive, advantageous and frustrating. And to remember that I'm in a cool place, and at least I am not working a job I hate. And that I'll probably miss it all when I come home. Or at the very least, leave me a comment so I know people are still thinking about me!
Ugh. I am so SICK of being hit on, especially when neither the hitter nor the hittee have sufficient language skills to communicate clearly. The internet dude is PISSING me off, but the net here is cheap and relatively quick and its close to home. But he will not BACK OFF about coming to my house, and last night apparently he went to the school to look for me. What part of NO (or TIDAK) does he not understand?
Also, last night I met the fiancee of one of the previous teachers. He has good English, seems nice enough, asked if I wanted to grab dinner on Saturday- but advocated very strongly this was not a date. So I said ok, but now he's called the house today (of course he has the number, because his fiancee lived here) and is asking if I want to get breakfast. No. Go away.
Ugh (again), due to the heat here I am producing SO much oil, I am considering barrelling it and selling it to the Australian government. Yuk, I have to wash my face at least twice a day with oil control face wash. I hate pimples. Gross.
Today I feel sick (not just because I have been thinking about pimples). I don't know why, I didn't eat anything dodgy yesterday- in fact I ate in the fanciest place I've visited since leaving Australia. My conversation class went out for dinner for class, and one of the students (a well off older man) insisted on paying for everyone. But I couldn't lie on my tummy last night, and I still feel queasy now :(
And I hurt. While at first it seemed the heat here was better for my geriatric joints (knees, ankles, hips, shoulders and jaw all ache regularly. sook), this is countered by having to walk everywhere, a million bloody steps and cursed squat toilets. My knees are aching a lot more than they were in Aus. So after this I am going to the pool, and hopefully that will stretch my poor tense muscles.
And I'm tired, for some reason I couldn't sleep. Grump grump grump. I want to go home, and, I don't know, eat breakfast cereal or something, with real milk not UHT, and watch English language TV.
Actually, I really miss crappy Australian TV. I miss sitcoms and dramas where I understand the plotline. Just to prove my emotional stability has been reduced to that of a fifteen year old, yesterday I was listening to the OC soundtrack, and realised that it had soundbites from the series on one of the songs. I was having flashbacks to emotional bits of OC episodes and and almost cried. Loser :) I will justify this by saying it's not just the high emotional tension of the OC that caused my watery eyes, but also because an obsession with the OC was something I shared with Nick, Lisa, Caroline, Shannon and Robbie. Also because it reminds me of teaching in Aus, and weaving plotlines of the OC into spelling tests. And also because Mischa Barton reminds me a lot of my cousin, Rhiannon. And I miss people.
OK. So here's your cue to tell me to buck up- less than four weeks til I'm home. And to accept the male attention as flattering, rather than intrusive, advantageous and frustrating. And to remember that I'm in a cool place, and at least I am not working a job I hate. And that I'll probably miss it all when I come home. Or at the very least, leave me a comment so I know people are still thinking about me!
Wednesday, September 13, 2006
Atop the tall hill
Wooh! I have finally made it to the 'Create a post' page!
It is said that a trip to Sumatera Barat does not count unless you visit Bukitinggi. So now my trip has been validated :) While my radio stardom has been postponed until next Saturday (and that'll be a fun weekend- early wake up call for radio Saturday, and working Sunday (unpaid) on the EF Spelling Bee, grr), the trip to Bukitinggi (literally Tall Hill) went ahead, and even slightly early as Gita didn't have to work at the radio station. Several angkot (minibus/Torago) trips and a 2.5 hour minibus (yeah, it's just called minibus) ride got us to the Tall Hill. Ironically, I think we crossed a mountain range to get to Bukitinggi... but anyway. The scenery was truly beautiful, and reminded me of why I wanted to visit an area that's off the tourist trail and not a big city. Cities in Indonesia are ugly, even mini cities like Padang. But when you get out a bit, the houses are surrounded by sewah-sewah (wet rice fields), and have gardens, and flow on pools, and it's really interesting and so pretty. The waterfalls and old bridges we passed along the trip over-rode my travel sickness, also staved off by trying to learn the words to the Dangdut (Indo Pop) music played at high volume.
Bukitinggi itself was cold and wet. It rained sporadically while we were there, and I was cold for the first time in Indonesia. I needed an extra blanket at night- I don't even HAVE a blanket in Padang. Bukitinggi is far less humid, and the humidity really traps the heat in Padang. Bukitinggi, a smaller town, has far better traffic control than Padang too! It's a pretty place, all the streets sloping up to the top of the hill, and plenty of hotels and eateries. Had a great noodle soup for breakfast and, more significantly for me, traditional Indonesian kopi hitam, which absolutely kicked ass over the 'cappucino' I was served the day before (3 in 1 coffee, served with a huge spoon of more 3 in 1 on top where the froth would go. Super sweet and utterly revolting). Kopi Hitam is semi-sweet, lightly spiced and YUM.
While it would seem My superstardom had been delayed until the following weekend, no-one had told the people of Bukitinggi. I literally signed at least fifteen autographs (kids doing a school assignment had to get autographs and details from bule) and posed for maybe ten pictures. One girl was so excited she kissed me, most unusual in Indonesia. A guy at the 'cafe' (read bar) we went to also wanted to get to know me, despite the rebuffings of myself, my friend Gita and Andy, Gita's boyfriend. The point when he put his hands on my shoulders and tried to talk into my ear while I tried to move away was simultaneous with the point in time Gita insisted we leave NOW and the point in time several of Andy's friends glared daggers at the guy and moved in as if to hit him. Now in Australia, a sleazy guy grabs your ass. In Indonesia, where Gita and Andy have dated for two years and still don't touch in public, to put your hands on someone, even a bule, like that is completely unacceptable. Poor Gita and Andy were SO apologetic.
We visited the tourist spots; the top of the Japanese Caves, built during Japanese Occupation (couldn't go in, no lights working and the prospoect of snakes, even ular kecil (little snakes), meant I wasn't too disappointed); the clock tower with pointy Minang turrets which features on most Bukitinggi souvenirs; and the Taman Binatang, Zoo, which was the saddest zoo I have ever seen. I was almost in tears that the only orang-hutan (old man of the forest) I am likely to see were sans hutan (forest). In fact, they were sans anything but bars and a dirt floor. Most exhibits were dirt or concrete pits, such as the enclosure for the most miserable kangaroos I have ever seen. I spent a lot of time trying to cheer up my fellow Aussies, the roos and the cocky, to no avail. The only animals who had anywhere near a decent enclosure were the tiger, the lion and some of the apes. Awful.
Anyway, made it back to Padang safe and sound (after having to wait over an hour to get a bus home, and having a baby on the bus home create quite a royal aroma... ugh), having seen the sights, made some new Indonesian friends and enjoyed immensely the hot shower at the hotel (I wash ladelling cold water from a mandi- a big water tub. There is a shower head you can connect to the tap, but it only shoots out about four jets of water. It's more trouble than it's worth).
Yesterday, a policeman tried to hit on me. Of course, working on a tourist visa (illegal? Wah?), I was very polite to him (also polite because he had a clip of bullets on his belt...), while still indicating that no, I didn't want a boyfriend in Padang as well as Australia (they understand I have a boyfriend at home, but the concept that this may prevent me from dating them does not occur to Indonesian men!). And then, as I got up to leave, my chair dug into the sand and I hit the table, and bottles crashed, and his water splashed all over the table, only narrowly missing his immaculate uniform. I'm hoping this means he'll not try to find me again, and not that he'll feel I owe him anpther audience... Oy vey.
It is said that a trip to Sumatera Barat does not count unless you visit Bukitinggi. So now my trip has been validated :) While my radio stardom has been postponed until next Saturday (and that'll be a fun weekend- early wake up call for radio Saturday, and working Sunday (unpaid) on the EF Spelling Bee, grr), the trip to Bukitinggi (literally Tall Hill) went ahead, and even slightly early as Gita didn't have to work at the radio station. Several angkot (minibus/Torago) trips and a 2.5 hour minibus (yeah, it's just called minibus) ride got us to the Tall Hill. Ironically, I think we crossed a mountain range to get to Bukitinggi... but anyway. The scenery was truly beautiful, and reminded me of why I wanted to visit an area that's off the tourist trail and not a big city. Cities in Indonesia are ugly, even mini cities like Padang. But when you get out a bit, the houses are surrounded by sewah-sewah (wet rice fields), and have gardens, and flow on pools, and it's really interesting and so pretty. The waterfalls and old bridges we passed along the trip over-rode my travel sickness, also staved off by trying to learn the words to the Dangdut (Indo Pop) music played at high volume.
Bukitinggi itself was cold and wet. It rained sporadically while we were there, and I was cold for the first time in Indonesia. I needed an extra blanket at night- I don't even HAVE a blanket in Padang. Bukitinggi is far less humid, and the humidity really traps the heat in Padang. Bukitinggi, a smaller town, has far better traffic control than Padang too! It's a pretty place, all the streets sloping up to the top of the hill, and plenty of hotels and eateries. Had a great noodle soup for breakfast and, more significantly for me, traditional Indonesian kopi hitam, which absolutely kicked ass over the 'cappucino' I was served the day before (3 in 1 coffee, served with a huge spoon of more 3 in 1 on top where the froth would go. Super sweet and utterly revolting). Kopi Hitam is semi-sweet, lightly spiced and YUM.
While it would seem My superstardom had been delayed until the following weekend, no-one had told the people of Bukitinggi. I literally signed at least fifteen autographs (kids doing a school assignment had to get autographs and details from bule) and posed for maybe ten pictures. One girl was so excited she kissed me, most unusual in Indonesia. A guy at the 'cafe' (read bar) we went to also wanted to get to know me, despite the rebuffings of myself, my friend Gita and Andy, Gita's boyfriend. The point when he put his hands on my shoulders and tried to talk into my ear while I tried to move away was simultaneous with the point in time Gita insisted we leave NOW and the point in time several of Andy's friends glared daggers at the guy and moved in as if to hit him. Now in Australia, a sleazy guy grabs your ass. In Indonesia, where Gita and Andy have dated for two years and still don't touch in public, to put your hands on someone, even a bule, like that is completely unacceptable. Poor Gita and Andy were SO apologetic.
We visited the tourist spots; the top of the Japanese Caves, built during Japanese Occupation (couldn't go in, no lights working and the prospoect of snakes, even ular kecil (little snakes), meant I wasn't too disappointed); the clock tower with pointy Minang turrets which features on most Bukitinggi souvenirs; and the Taman Binatang, Zoo, which was the saddest zoo I have ever seen. I was almost in tears that the only orang-hutan (old man of the forest) I am likely to see were sans hutan (forest). In fact, they were sans anything but bars and a dirt floor. Most exhibits were dirt or concrete pits, such as the enclosure for the most miserable kangaroos I have ever seen. I spent a lot of time trying to cheer up my fellow Aussies, the roos and the cocky, to no avail. The only animals who had anywhere near a decent enclosure were the tiger, the lion and some of the apes. Awful.
Anyway, made it back to Padang safe and sound (after having to wait over an hour to get a bus home, and having a baby on the bus home create quite a royal aroma... ugh), having seen the sights, made some new Indonesian friends and enjoyed immensely the hot shower at the hotel (I wash ladelling cold water from a mandi- a big water tub. There is a shower head you can connect to the tap, but it only shoots out about four jets of water. It's more trouble than it's worth).
Yesterday, a policeman tried to hit on me. Of course, working on a tourist visa (illegal? Wah?), I was very polite to him (also polite because he had a clip of bullets on his belt...), while still indicating that no, I didn't want a boyfriend in Padang as well as Australia (they understand I have a boyfriend at home, but the concept that this may prevent me from dating them does not occur to Indonesian men!). And then, as I got up to leave, my chair dug into the sand and I hit the table, and bottles crashed, and his water splashed all over the table, only narrowly missing his immaculate uniform. I'm hoping this means he'll not try to find me again, and not that he'll feel I owe him anpther audience... Oy vey.
Thursday, September 07, 2006
Video has not killed the radio star.
Oops, long time, posting neglected. This does NOT mean I am running about having fun. It means the net has been REALLY slow.
Since Kenny and Ipit moved out, it has been so quiet at my house. And I have watched some truly terrible movies. There's an English movie on every night, but the quality is not much to rave about. Normally good guys/ bad guys movies with as much kung fu as possible. They LOVE that here. My kinder kids made puppets, and then started using them to kung fu the other puppets' asses. Go figure.
I feel more harrassed than usual. I went to the top of the mountain to hang out with the monkeys on Sunday, and there were all these boys from Jakarta who kept talking to me, and wouldn't leave me alone (There were also a group of kids who kept climbing trees to show me they were also monkeys, which was cute. And then they'd just sit at my feet and LOOK at me). The kid who took me to his house shows up ALL the time now. The internet operator guy keeps asking if he can come to my house. And yesterday there were hordes of young guys on my way to school, and they kept intercepting me in groups and aggressively trying to get me to stop and talk with them. I have been somewhat short with people as a result of this. Sometimes I just want to pull the curtains on the little glass box that is my life in Asia, and get some damn privacy.
However, my students are still good, and I'm developing friendships with girls my age. Nelly lives around the corner, and has offered to chat with me at weekends- partially to improve her own English, but also as a friend. Moren brought me cake to class last night, which was sweet. And Gita is taking me to Bukittinggi on Saturday, and hung out with me after class last night, eating grilled spicy corn.
Before we go to Bukittinggi though, I am going to be a guest on Gita's radio show. She has an English language show, and I am special guest, yahoo. It's ages since I have been on radio. No really, I've been a special guest before :) I was on SBS radio representing my Indonesian Pop band in high school (although they spoke in FAST INdo, so I understood very little, and just sang for them), and when I did work experience at a community radio station I recorded ads (which was FUN, I'd like to do voice overs... me and every other actor in the world) and chatted on air- it turned out the presenter knew my aunt.
Anyway, so I am well on my way to being an Indonesian selebriti. Everyone knows my name, wants my number and photo (yeah, people take photos on their phones as I walk past), and now I'm on the radio. Next I'm aiming for a hyped up quiz show...
Since Kenny and Ipit moved out, it has been so quiet at my house. And I have watched some truly terrible movies. There's an English movie on every night, but the quality is not much to rave about. Normally good guys/ bad guys movies with as much kung fu as possible. They LOVE that here. My kinder kids made puppets, and then started using them to kung fu the other puppets' asses. Go figure.
I feel more harrassed than usual. I went to the top of the mountain to hang out with the monkeys on Sunday, and there were all these boys from Jakarta who kept talking to me, and wouldn't leave me alone (There were also a group of kids who kept climbing trees to show me they were also monkeys, which was cute. And then they'd just sit at my feet and LOOK at me). The kid who took me to his house shows up ALL the time now. The internet operator guy keeps asking if he can come to my house. And yesterday there were hordes of young guys on my way to school, and they kept intercepting me in groups and aggressively trying to get me to stop and talk with them. I have been somewhat short with people as a result of this. Sometimes I just want to pull the curtains on the little glass box that is my life in Asia, and get some damn privacy.
However, my students are still good, and I'm developing friendships with girls my age. Nelly lives around the corner, and has offered to chat with me at weekends- partially to improve her own English, but also as a friend. Moren brought me cake to class last night, which was sweet. And Gita is taking me to Bukittinggi on Saturday, and hung out with me after class last night, eating grilled spicy corn.
Before we go to Bukittinggi though, I am going to be a guest on Gita's radio show. She has an English language show, and I am special guest, yahoo. It's ages since I have been on radio. No really, I've been a special guest before :) I was on SBS radio representing my Indonesian Pop band in high school (although they spoke in FAST INdo, so I understood very little, and just sang for them), and when I did work experience at a community radio station I recorded ads (which was FUN, I'd like to do voice overs... me and every other actor in the world) and chatted on air- it turned out the presenter knew my aunt.
Anyway, so I am well on my way to being an Indonesian selebriti. Everyone knows my name, wants my number and photo (yeah, people take photos on their phones as I walk past), and now I'm on the radio. Next I'm aiming for a hyped up quiz show...
Friday, September 01, 2006
The speed of life
One of the ways you can pick a bule (if their physical non-Indonesionality is not enough) is that they walk much faster than native folk. The Padang locals know it's much easier to conserve energy if you bersantai- relax. You can also pick a new bule by their refusal to take the opelet, speeding mini buses with an incomprehensible coding system to advise their destination (a mixture of colour and number), an entire lack of safety system such as seat belts, and an amazing top speed which is employed as often as possible. As of yesterday I am no longer one of those bule, as I have taken the mini bus TWICE! (wah! More on this later)
Indonesians also LOVE to shorten words. Acronyms (SD= sekolah dasar= elementary school), abbreviations (tak=tidak=no/not, tapi=tetapi=but/ however), compound abbreviations (ibule=ibu+bule=foreign woman), and nicknames. As of yesterday, I now have an Indo nickname, Ami. I'm reading a book called "The Meaning of Tingo," which talks about words/ phrases in other languages for which we have no English equivalent. It's great- Caroline, I think you'd like it, I'll lend it to you in October if you'd like. You are pretty much guaranteed that if there is a compound word, it is Indonesian.
Indonesians also eat quickly. It's an essential function, get it done, no useless chit-chat, and do the next thing on the agenda (probably bersantai). I was again reminded of this at the Embassy function last night- what a weird do. Most Australians I met were actually from Medan, just in town for the official announcement of the Honorary Consul. The Padang Australians seemed very cliquey, or were just tourists. *sigh* But I met a few Indo people from the Universities, including one who did his PhD in Tasmania, and another who runs an Australian Studies course and would like me to come and speak to the class sometime. There was about 45 minutes of milling/ drinking ok wine (better than I was expecting, as tghey don't really do wine in Indonesia)/ meeting the Ambassador and Consul who were both very nice. Then 20 minutes of speeches, in which the official folk were very relaxed and funny and the poor translator (who went to Monash) had to make it much more conservative for her Indo audience. Then half an hour of eating (ok main meal, great deserts), after which most Indonesians vamoosed. And that was that. The hotel was quite nice, batik just means the men wear batik shirts with pants, the women wear dresses with shawls, and most of the Australians look scruffy (except me).
Yesterday I also visited Daerah Miskin- a poor area. Met a kid on the street, he wanted me to meet his German tourist neighbour who speaks English. Miscommunication meant I went miles out of my way in a minibus to this suburban village, where I met most of his extended family, visited his and his sister's homes, discovered the German lady was not home and ate with them, before Joko (the kid) escorted me back home and refused any money for food or the bus. A really interesting and touching experience, to be invited as a stranger into these poor people's homes. Joko is very 'keen' (he said this a lot), and would like to marry an Australian woman when he is older. I told him I'd give him my dictionary when I left, so he could keep learnign English.
Today, Ipit and Kenny will finally move out. Holdups with registration and pay meant they have not been able to do so until now. So I will be a bit more alone, but I have a few friends in my classes, so I will be less lonely than I was earlier in the stint.
Safe trip to Gene, who flies to Doha today (and virtual hug to Sarah who's there already). Lisa, I hope you've made it safely to Paris?? Nick said your plane was delayed. And Nick, enjoy America, I'll see you for your birthday- ok?! The rest of you, enjoy Melbourne :)
Indonesians also LOVE to shorten words. Acronyms (SD= sekolah dasar= elementary school), abbreviations (tak=tidak=no/not, tapi=tetapi=but/ however), compound abbreviations (ibule=ibu+bule=foreign woman), and nicknames. As of yesterday, I now have an Indo nickname, Ami. I'm reading a book called "The Meaning of Tingo," which talks about words/ phrases in other languages for which we have no English equivalent. It's great- Caroline, I think you'd like it, I'll lend it to you in October if you'd like. You are pretty much guaranteed that if there is a compound word, it is Indonesian.
Indonesians also eat quickly. It's an essential function, get it done, no useless chit-chat, and do the next thing on the agenda (probably bersantai). I was again reminded of this at the Embassy function last night- what a weird do. Most Australians I met were actually from Medan, just in town for the official announcement of the Honorary Consul. The Padang Australians seemed very cliquey, or were just tourists. *sigh* But I met a few Indo people from the Universities, including one who did his PhD in Tasmania, and another who runs an Australian Studies course and would like me to come and speak to the class sometime. There was about 45 minutes of milling/ drinking ok wine (better than I was expecting, as tghey don't really do wine in Indonesia)/ meeting the Ambassador and Consul who were both very nice. Then 20 minutes of speeches, in which the official folk were very relaxed and funny and the poor translator (who went to Monash) had to make it much more conservative for her Indo audience. Then half an hour of eating (ok main meal, great deserts), after which most Indonesians vamoosed. And that was that. The hotel was quite nice, batik just means the men wear batik shirts with pants, the women wear dresses with shawls, and most of the Australians look scruffy (except me).
Yesterday I also visited Daerah Miskin- a poor area. Met a kid on the street, he wanted me to meet his German tourist neighbour who speaks English. Miscommunication meant I went miles out of my way in a minibus to this suburban village, where I met most of his extended family, visited his and his sister's homes, discovered the German lady was not home and ate with them, before Joko (the kid) escorted me back home and refused any money for food or the bus. A really interesting and touching experience, to be invited as a stranger into these poor people's homes. Joko is very 'keen' (he said this a lot), and would like to marry an Australian woman when he is older. I told him I'd give him my dictionary when I left, so he could keep learnign English.
Today, Ipit and Kenny will finally move out. Holdups with registration and pay meant they have not been able to do so until now. So I will be a bit more alone, but I have a few friends in my classes, so I will be less lonely than I was earlier in the stint.
Safe trip to Gene, who flies to Doha today (and virtual hug to Sarah who's there already). Lisa, I hope you've made it safely to Paris?? Nick said your plane was delayed. And Nick, enjoy America, I'll see you for your birthday- ok?! The rest of you, enjoy Melbourne :)
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