I feel the earth move

If you read an Australian newspaper, news-site or listen to the radio, you will be aware of the fact that a plane crashed in a fireball in Jogjakarta yesterday, injuring or killing a handful of Australians. Less well known is the fact that a large earthquake (6.3 Richter) killed at least 72 people in Sumatera Barat on March 6.

Sumatera Barat was where I lived in Indo. The quake was centered in Solok, not far from Padang, my Indo home, and a great deal of damage and devastation was caused in Padang. I have only heard from one of my friends in Padang, who said that the quake was terrifying, and he was afraid he would die.

It really bothers me that the Australian media is so loathe to focus on any international matter which does not immediately impact an Australian life. I would love to find out more about the Sumateran quake, but information is sparse. In The Age today, at least four pages focused on the plane crash. One small article in the World News section was the extent of reporting on the earthquake.

I'm finding the recent tragedy in Indonesia difficult to deal with. In some ways, I feel guilty for not having been involved in the quake. By all rights I should have been. I was due to be in Padang until August. Because I was fortunate- and wealthy- enough, I was able to leave. But because I left, someone else (my replacement) found themselves in danger.

It just sort of stirs up feelings that I wimped out by coming home. Like I cheated. 72 people have died in an area I lived, hundreds more injured or bereft of their homes, and I escaped that because I was unhappy that I didn't have a Western toilet. It feels so petty. I feel so petty. I got an email from the Australian embassy in Jakarta, concerned for my welfare. It seemed hollow to reply, advising I was in fact in Australia.

I know this is silly. Had I been there, I could have done nothing to help. I would have achieved nothing except worry to my loved ones had I been in the quake. Maybe if there were some media recognition that human lives have been disrupted, and are as valid as those lost in the Garuda crash, I would feel less guilty.

Meanwhile, if I feel guilt, I hope our Foreign Minister is suffering bucketloads of it. All of the Australians on the Garuda crash were travelling to Jogja to attend a conference chaired by Mr Downer. The lucky bastard arrived the next day. Karma misses its mark again.

Waktu untuk pulang

(Time to return home)

This was my my final journal entry in Indonesia, written in the plane as we took off.

Day 59. Ultimate. In some ways I wish it wasn't. I'm feeling very weak, like I should have been able to make it longer. I really think I would have gone mad if I'd stayed a year: but the realisation that I can speak ok Indonesian; the knowledge that my students and new friends actually care and will miss me; and the feeling that I would have in some way proven myself make me feel sad to leave. I feel a bit ashamed to be crawling home with my tail between my legs.

I keep telling myself that the circumstances were ridiculous: completely alone; crap house; crap working hours; feeling scared everytime I heard a noise at night; feeling both intensely grateful for any form of friendship, yet frustrated by the over-attention that comes from a relationship with Indonesians (they are INTENSE people, and have no idea about alone time, or privacy or anything). I can't but feel disappointed. I am sad both because I feel bad to have upset so many people, and because I just want a hug from someone I know!

I'm feeling more emotional than I have for most of my trip- barring the first week, of course! I know I'll miss more than my balcony! N.B. Early in my trip, I wrote a list of things I thought I'd miss in Indonesia. The main thing was the balcony near my room, which had an interesting view, and nice breezes.

I am going to most miss the relaxed atmosphere of Indonesia. It is a place where someone is always late, and time is truly elastic; where everything can be rixed by crossing the right person's palm with silver. I am going to miss the complexities of life, paradoxical, really for such a simple lifestyle. People are obsessed with technology, to the point where it was considered 'impossible' for me to not have a mobile; yet people live in squalor. They are fiercely proud of the natural beauty of their country, but destroy it daily, be it through littering or slash and burn farming. It's a country where people do not understand the need for 'alone time', but expect you to live sendiri (alone), and where the locals are both overwhelmingly welcoming and shockingly rude all at once. It's a weird, beautiful, terrible, amazing place. I am definitely coming back here.

So. Back home. Back to the grind, the familiarity, the anonymity on a crowded street, the certainty I am not being fleeced because of my skin colour, nor am I getting special treatment because of it! I actually really can't wait to travel... tapi aku juga senang sekalia untuk pulang! ('but I am very happy to return home'...)

The word 'pulang' means 'to return home', a concept for which we do not have a single word in English. I think this is because we don't regard home as an element central to our being. It's strange, being abroad made me so much more patriotic. I wasn't homesick, but I was so home-proud. At the zoo, the animals I spent most time with were the kangaroos and the cocky, because, you know, we had this deep Australian connection. Yeah...

Self reflection

I wrote this about two weeks into my trip, and I don't think my feelings have changed too much. Anything in italics is a present addition to a six week old journal entry.

Is it possible to find oneself by removing all familiar aspects of one's life? In losing myself in a foreign country, I am hoping to learn who I am at my core. So far I have confirmed (but not newly discovered, I kind of knew these things already):

-I love teaching. I love learning. I love challenging people to think and discover and want to know more. I love spending time with children, and teenagers.

-I am such a people person. I wish I had someone to share my experiences with. It would make them more beautiful than they are. They don't seem fully lived on my own. Having been on my own, I know I can do it alone, but I don't enjoy it. I am independent enough to cope, but I think life should be about enjoyment, not functioning.

-I set myself very high expectations. I expect too much of myself. I need to learn to take baby steps. I need to be realistic. I need to cut myself some slack. It was SO hard to decide to come home, because of my stubborness and self expectation. I thought I could do this, and therefore I was NOT whimping out. I'm still having waves of shame for coming home, even though I know I would have been miserable staying a year.

-I rush too much. I need to relax. Indonesian society is much slower than Australia. I enjoy that.

-I love language. My refuge, when things become difficult, is to read. Now I am a bit more comfortable here, I am revelling in becoming involved in the language. I'd like to study languages when I come home. The need to communicate is an intense part of who I am.

- I am emotional and affectionate. Sometimes this clouds my judgement, but it is a large part of who I am. It makes me generous and friendly. I value these traits in others, I should learn to value them mor ein myself.

-I actually really enjoy travelling. I love the unfamiliarity and unexpected landscapes and situations.

- I love animals. I wanna get me apet! And I want to do more to protect animals and their habitats. This was said because animals are treated really poorly in Indonesia. The zoo at Bukitinggi made me cry- just concrete pits with listless animals at the bottom. Dogs live in tiny cages, or chained in concrete yards. It's really sad.

-I am very fortunate. I have loving friends and family. I do not want for essentials. I have opportunities to travel, to educate myself, to make my own choices. In a first world country, we can forget how valuable these things are. They make a true world of difference.

-I am stronger than I often give myself credit for.

Displaced

Ha, culture shock coming into Singapore, much! My aunt Jenny had booked a hotel room- we were meant to stay together, but the incompetence personified that is British Airways messed that up- and it was pretty fancy :) So I went from lugging a 30kilo suitcase down flights of stairs to having bellboys at my command; from washing with buckets of cold water to a HOT massagehead shower and a swimming pool; from crazy Indo TV to cable in stacks o languages, including Australian TV (Hee hee, 'We could be heroes' is funny...); from no food available during Ramadhan to six restaurants within the hotel, and the most yummy roast duck for dinner. Mmmm.

Wandered the scarily expensive malls on Orchard Rd (HOW can there be so many Guccis and Louis Vittons in one strip???), wondered why Kate Moss seemed so overexposed (I guess Cocaine Chic is the new cool in the modelling world), bought myself a belt because I've lost a bit of weight. Then caught the MRT to the harbour, where I photographed the merlion, repelled the advances of a sleazy Indian guy, and visited the Asian Civilisations Museum, which I think may be the best museum I have visited.

Now I'm home. I'm tired, because I can't sleep on flights and my body aches (lack of sleep and cramped confines, I think). It's nice to be home, but so weird. Things feel familiar, but strange. My house feels EMPTY (but at least it's MY empty house, that's a step up on an empty Indonesian house). I am cold, and I crave rice! Half of my stuff is in boxes, including my clothes suited for today's cool weather, and I MUST have adjusted to the humidity because I am seriously cold. I feel much better when I am talking to people, so I will just have to try and up the socialisation!

Like Dorothy said, there's no place like home. I was starting to like the other place, and I want to see lots more places that are nothing like home. Right now I just want some people to make my house feel like home (a la The Castle :P). And some rice! :)

It's hard to say goodbye...

Wow, it's surprisingly difficult to leave my classes. I've only taught them for two months, two or three classes a week. But I am quite sad to leave them, and many of my students have been genuinely disappointed to see me go. I don't want to blow my own trumpet (oh, ok: toot!), but they didn't react like this when my predecessor left. So I think I was successful in my job. Yay :)

I am also saying goodbye to the idea of working at University Andalas. Positives: it would be great experience; it would look so impressive on a resume; I already know Padang, so it won't be a whole new shock; the support at the uni will be better than here; I will get to see my friends again; the university provides on campus accomodation. Negatives: accomodation is pretty much ALL they provide! That, and a transportation allowance. Yeah, turns out that's why they have teachers who are not trained, it's a stipend position. Blah, forget that. My friend insists she is going to talk to the Dean about it, but I think I'm giving up on that idea.

So today is my last one teaching here. I know my conversation class have a gift for me (Indonesians are so bad at being sneaky), which is sweet. And the staff here were concerned that I wasn't having a farewell party (I invited them down to the cafe where Kenny and I will be swilling cheap beer together after class). My high school friend has been leaving notes under my door saying he'll miss me (sweet, but kinda irritating!), and yesterday I met Ricky's niece, who decided she loved me and kept leaping on me when I said I had to go to work. I've made a surprising impression in only two months. I hadn't realised it, and feel a little bad to be leaving people. But, in the end, the people I love aren't here. So I'll see you all in a few days. Malam, Padang! Sampai nanti!

P.S. I thought Indonesia was giving me a grand old send off- yesterday I wwas completely convinced I had gastro! After two months of being fine and healthy! But I'm ok today, maybe it was a 24hour thing. Phew. That could have been a fun plane trip...

P.P.S. If you've heard about mudslides, they're in Java. It's a different island. And they've been going on for months, they must have gotten worse if they're in international news. They've tried everything to stop them- including inviting psychics to try and quell the spirits of the mud, who are apparently angry that corrupt people are doing bad things in town. Yeah. I love Indonesia!

Opportunities.

OK, so that was a big weekend. I had planned to tell Liena, my boss, on Friday that I was leaving, but she wasn't in. So, Saturday morning, having woken up with an aching jaw from stress related teeth clenching, I decided to head in early and tell her. Well, it went surprising better than expected. Wish I hadn't almost cried- I suck at confrontation. But Liena was pretty good about it- I think she is aware of just how far she was pushing me, maybe she'd expected this?- and even said I can come back to teach for her at a later stage if I'd like. So I guess my chance of getting another job at an EF school is not screwed after all. In fact, Liena says she'd like it if I came back with a friend or Nick- that way she has two teachers at once, and knows they are not lonely. Opportunity #1, return to ESL teaching, and franchising out my friends :)

I have fit in lots of "quick, see it before you go" type activities this weekend. Visited Joko's house and family (this is my high school kid friend), went to the local museum here (which is SO behind the times it is not funny. They have paintings of the solar system, hardly accurate, which nonetheless absolutely wowed Joko), and caught up with several people. I also was a 'mascot'. Ricky's (fiancee of ex-teacher here) friends have a cafe, and during Ramadhan they hold a street stall outside the cafe selling special foods for breaking the fast. The idea was that maybe having a bule would attract more customers. So that's what I did Saturday and Sunday nights. One of my students mentioned in class that he'd seen me, so clearly I DID attract some attention. Opportunity #2, restaurant mascot :P

The funniest thing was when, on Saturday night, Ricky jumped on his bike to take me home. Or at least that was the plan, but the bike thought otherwise. Out of gas. But that's ok, says Ricky, I'll take my friend's bike. Would you believe that it was out of gas too???? He had to get a friend to drive him in his car to the gas station, come back and refill the bike... I was laughing so much.

The third opportunity was presented to me last night, and is by far the most interesting and most likely to appeal to me. Gita, one of my students, studies at the local university's English Faculty. Her teacher is currently employed purely on the basis of being a native speaker, which concerns Gita, as next year they will study drama and poetry. She worries her teacher's lack of teaching experience will be detrimental to the class. And so she mentioned me to her Faculty Head. So the question is, do I want to return to Padang next July and teach in a university? I have always thought I might like to move into University teaching eventually, and having experience would certainly be a drawcard. Plus it might help in getting scholarships to other universities. And at the very least, it would make me look so darn awesome when applying for mere high school teaching jobs!

On the upside, I think the salary would be better than here (the last teacher brought his wife out, so it is generous enough to cover two; this means Nick could come with me, perhaps?), and I believe it includes accomodation, again likely to be better than here. It's also an opportunity to continue advancing my Indonesian skills. But on the downside, it would mean a year away again, and all the things about Padang that had been bothering me- the rudeness, the god damn toilets, etc... What should I do? Help me! I think I will say I am interested enough to find out more, but not enough to commit yet. What do you think?

Indonesia through the senses

So often there is music, especially during Ramadhan. The call to prayer hailing the faithful to the mesjid; a distant boom box; the echo of singing, or late night feasting; the shrill, nasal call of a warung stall holder; the jingle of the ice-cream seller; the horns of the angkot; the faint chant of the Buddhist temple. Silence is rare. It is possible to be engulfed in sound. Although I get lonely, the sounds reminds me that I am surrounded by life. Nothing stops.

I can smell the smoke from rubbish burning and forest fires smouldering on distant islands; the heady aroma of a violent downpour evaporating in the crisp heat. The sweetness of fruit and salty fish combines with sweat and rubbish in the market. During the climb up a mountain over the town, the air clears, sweetens and is scented by flowers and the sea.

Tropics meet squalor and the trappings of modernity. A third world pretending to be developed. Cars cleaned daily shine against dirt roads, rubbish and plant choked ditches, and ramshackle houses. Vibrant flowers and relaxed palms frame and inky sky, and offset brightly painted boats on a softly rolling sea.

Tastes are familiar, yet strange. The taste of the heat in the air. Bready pizza topped with fish and tartare sauce. Melted chocolate and cheese atop grilled banana. Spices and sweetness combining at every meal.

Looking around, I see things so different to Australian society. A family of four share an obek (motorbike). A cat wanders along the beach. A bike crawls past, its sidecar piled twice the height of the rider. A serious face breaks into a smile to greet me. Strangers cross imcomprehensibly busy roads to look at me closer or touch my arm.

Although my stay here has included plenty of problems, there have been really lovely moments, and so many eye-opening experiences. A stranger inviting me to their home to eat; on a later visit his sister, meeting me for the first time, insists on giving me bracelets as a souvenir. I know they are poor, so this would not be a cheap gift for her. A young girl on a nearby street who stops me every day to practice her English gives me a coffee bun. A woman in a warung expresses genuine concern that I do not have a religion, and advises me to enter a religion quickly so God can watch over me.

I am so glad I came here.

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.

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 :)

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!

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!

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.

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...

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 :)

Rubbing shoulders with the VIPs

Oh, I forgot to mention this- I am going to a fancy reception at one of the fanciest hotels in Padang :) Yeah, everyone at school is quite awed by me at the moment, because I got a faxed invitation from the Australian Government, inviting me to meet the Australian Ambassador and the Australian Consular or something like that. Anyway, all it means is that I registered with the Australian Embassy, really.

But I am stoked, because I am actually being allowed to go, even though it's during class time. So yay, a holiday from two classes, and making small talk with boring politicians! Woohh....meh.

Yeah, so maybe hanging out with pollies is not my favourite passtime. But I will also meet other Aussies in Padang, and I will see the inside of a fancy hotel, and I will hopefulyl get to eat fancy canapes, AND I will get to see what the hell kind of dress code 'Lounge Suit/ Batik' is...

Kuda Lumping- Crazy Jumping Horse

I love the contradictions of Indonesia. You get the death penalty for bringing in marijuana, and yet there exists the common public (although probably not legally sanctioned) entertainment, Kuda Lumping. This is where a group of (normally) young men take a drug, which sends them into a weird hyper state in which they act a bit like stylised horses and apparently feel no pain.

Having heard about it from Kenny, the other teacher at my school (he's going to try it next time... although that's what he said last week), I got to witness and become involved in this spectacle yesterday. As soon as they see your camera, the Indonesians ferry you to the good photo spots. However, this put me in full view of a Kuda Lumping (one who'd taken the drug), who gestured to me. The Kuda Lumping are supposed to be possessed by spirits I think, so you do what they say. And so I found myself, having seen nothing of the ritual, in the middle of a crowd with a cardboard horse between my legs and being directed to the other end of the square. Happily I didn't have to take any drugs or do anything excet avoid the drugged out 'Kuda', but what a crazy initiation! (Kenny was a bit jealous, as he'd not gotten such special treatment. Then again, he's not a young white girl. I get told almost daily that I am very beautiful, and it is not uncommon for a young man to declare "I like you, Miss". I don't think it's my personality he likes...)

Anyway, the Kuda are washed in flowers and water, then given the drug. They become wild eyed and move in a dance like fashion, strutting with their legs straight, which looks a bit like a horse, and a bit like a rooster. They do all sorts of crazy things, like whipping themselves and being whipped by others, ripping into coconuts with their teeth and fighting each other. One guy bit into a live chicken. Apparently if you are sick in any way they can sense this, and will target you (people in the crowd kept asking if I was sick- I thought it was because I was white, but they were just concerned the Kuda might target me). They are baited and simultaneuously watched over by horsemen, who are dressed and painted meticulously and mounted on the same cardboard horses I rode earlier.

When the drug wears off, the Kuda become woozy. Then they stiffen like a board, and have to be carried off to have water poured on their head. They seem ok later, and advised me that the experience was 'enak'- delicious. It was pretty crazy. I loved being part of the crowd, I felt very much included in the audience, rather than being the spectacle myself. The Indonesian women kept drawing me into the crowd when it was 'dangerous', and the men would draw me to good vantage spots for cameras.

But my favourite part of all this? That one of the Kuda wore a t-shirt emblazoned in English- "Say no to drugs".

A return to solitary confinement??? :(

*sigh* My housemates are hoping to move out tomorrow. I will be alone in an enormous house meant for four. I will NEVER get to the phone before the ringing runs out. *sigh*

Kenny, the other teacher, and his wife Epit got married recently, but The Wicked Witch of EF (school director, henceforth known as WWEF) has been harping at them that school accomodation is for single teachers only. I have been saying to both the couple and WWEF that I would prefer they stayed- they're some of the few English speaking people I know! And I don't want to live alone. But I understand the desire to have your own place. Especially with the WWEF in their ears.

So, if Kenny gets his pay from WWEF today, and she allows them to borrow some furniture (our house is furnished by the school, theirs is of course empty), they will move out tomorrow :( Epit is worried about me being alone, so is insisting I come to a party with her tonight. Mmmmm, I am not great at meeting people when I speak the language, let alone... but I will go. It might be my last human interaction in a while *dramatic sigh* (P.S. I have been teaching soap opera to one of my classes... I think it has spilled into real life... Reading trashy Mills and Boon style novels isn't helping either!)

Stages of development

Ways in which Indonesia is clearly a developing country:
- You can't drink the tapwater. I think it comes from the river and ugh, I have seen the river. I ain't drinking from that. I just have to close my eyes and thing of England (Australia, whatever) when I bathe in it...
- The pavements are almost all terrible, either from tree roots pushing through (due to an obsession with planting tree in the middle of the footpath), general wear and tear or the concrete falling into the drains below, leaving a huge gaping hole. Watch your step.
- The roads are also shocking. Some are dirt, some are tarred, and in general road rules don't exist.
- The power goes off willy-nilly. Somehow, I have not been home when the power shuts off, I seem to be at school (where there is a generator), at the shops or just out. Or asleep. But it means I can't trust how fresh things kept in the fridge are... Nick will sympathise with this :)
- The rubbish. Drains are huge, because they need to be to keep flowing past all the litter. People just drop rubbish where they stand. And yet there is recycling. Go figure. The drains are also full of plants growing in the fertile steaming conditions. Mosquitoes also enjoy the same conditions...
- The lack of cleanliness. My 'maid' cleans my clothes (BY HAND!!!!! Yeah, I'm still not over the fact that I pay a woman a pittance to scrub my clothes on a washing board. *sigh*), but the only other thing she does is sweep the floors. And we only have cold water, so washing dishes can be fun. And of course they're being washed in river water anyway. Don't get me started on the lack of cleanliness through out the city. Oh the aromas...
- Living amongst the animals. If you go a bit further out from the city, people have chickens and goats just a-wandering around. Closer in, there are cats all over the place, and dogs live in concreted front yards, or are giving a 'run' on the street- this involves them being chained to something on the side of the road. Also, someone tried to sell me a random ferret thing when I patted it (for about an australian dollar), and you can buy bunnies and birds and other fun things at the market. Not in cages, just as they are, amongst the bananas and durian (worth about AU$2, Sarah. Cheaper than Doha, but I haven't tired them yet).
- Broadband? What is that? Most internet only works until 11am.
-That people study at University to do accounting, but you know they'll end up doing the books in a cafe... which involves writing down each transaction, and,w ell, that's about it.

Ways in which Indonesia pretends it is not a developing country:
- Shiny SUVs. All the rich people have cars. And they clean them EVERY day.
- Mobiles. Everyone has mobiles. I keep expecting the bums on the street to pull out a mobile with a pink tassel and a chirpy ring tone.
- The clothes. While the traditional older women wear sari like traditional Minang clothes, the young girls wear tight jeans, funky english emblazoned t-shirts and the like. And the jilbob (Muslim headscarf) is SUCH an accesory, the girls wear different ones each day, and some have badges on them, etc.
- The fancy water coolers, which both give out cold and hot water. That's cool :)

Um, I think that's about it... I wanted to make it sound more modern, but I can't think of anything else! This week has been ok, feeling more at home now, had my NAME called out twice on the street (once by Epi, who I live with, once by a student). Usually I am called (in order of prevalence): Miss, Mister, Mrs, Lady, Bu, Friend, Mama or my personal favourite (really, I like this one) My Sister.

Really enjoying my students as I get to know them more and they get to know me- classes have become more relaxed and fun, with lots of chatting. Just slowly converting the chat to Bahasa Inggeris rather than Bahasa Indonesia, that's the challenge! But we're getting there. Miss you all, xxx, thanks for all your comments. Even if I don't have a chance to reply, I am reading and appreciating them all.

Excitement and derision

Today I received the things I had posted to myself- they were untampered with! And while it was exciting to receive them, I had to ask myself 'Why?' Some of this stuff I wanted to have, like little gifts from my sister and stuff for writing back home (although by the time I post them, and then they arrive, I may well be back myself). And I am relieved to have some more books, and my writing notebook with stories I have started and will have time to work on here.

But seriously, WHY did I send so much stuff? I am SUCH a first time traveller (well, I am). I cast a glance of scorn and derision on the version of myself who packed my bags three weeks ago. I could halve it now. Well maybe not, alot of the weight in my bags is medication etc... damn a gastro kit, a year's supply of sunscreen and super mosquito repellant weighs quite a bit. At least when you're at the point that you're throwing out taking out towels to bring the weight down. (Bought myself a fluffy new towel. It was only five bucks. Why did I bring anything, I should have bought it all here!).

So. Now I have lots of stationary and books (yay) but only seven more weeks here (*yay*) to use them. I think I'll be leaving some things behind when I go. Or cramming stacks into my hand luggage (which they don't weigh, and don't restrict for size, even thought they say they will) and posting it from the more reliable Singapore post offices.

Indonesia = the 80s

I swear it, Indonesia IS the 80s. If you get in a time machine and travel to the 80s, you'll end up here. Here is why Indonesia is the 80s:

-The TV shows. Game shows, sketch comedy, bad fantasy and soap operas (preferably with elements of bad fantasy involved), that's all there is. To see the muslim version of Joan Collins is truly hilarious.
- To take the tv link one step further, The Gong Show. This is like Red Faces, stretched out into an hour length show. And all the presenters have SO much energy. SO MUCH! SUPER!
- The music. Rock bands with Poison style hair, Pop singers with enormous perms, and the passion, oh the passion. I bet they're just singing about rain in Africa...
- The clothes. The truly trendy folk (orang yang trendi) wear bright clothes on mismatched colours and patterns (although I must admit, I like not having to consider whether my clothes match...)
- The make up. Big purple and blue shadowed eyes never left Indonesia. Someone stopped me on the beach the other day to ask about my 'bedak'- face powder. Apparently my red cheeks are 'Cantik'- beautiful.
- Layering. Because of Muslim tendencies, few people wear little tops or skirts. UNLESS they wear them over the top of footless tights or body shirts! Yeah!
- The obsession with instant coffee. Sumatera is supposed to have amazing coffee. I wouldn't know, everyone is just so excited to offer you instant, or even better, 3 in 1! (That's coffee, sugar and creamer, byt the way).

Went to the beach, it was ok. I can't believe there are so many beaches with dirt coloured sand. Have taken to sitting on Pantai Padang (Padang Beach) of an evening, and have discovered it's a place young couples go to sit in the semi darkness- but not touch. I have not seen a boy and girl touch since I arrived. Also saw a cat strolling along the beach... weird.

So the trip to Bunggus Beach was cool, we hired a taxi for the day (you pay his fare and his food), stopped on the way to FEED monkeys, they take peanuts straight from your hands. Was a bit sad, because they're not really wild any more... but oh so cool! I have lots of photos, I just wish I had a net connection fast enough to upload them :(

Then we went to Pantai Carlos di Bunguss, and swam in the bath warm water, and watched traditional fishermen (they row these huge nets out to sea, then haul them in mby hand over a period of hours!), and I drank from a coconut :) Later we went for my first traditional Padang meal and I ate with my hands! Yeah. I am SO Indo. Except the taxi driver laughed at me, because I wasn't doing it right. Ok, maybe a little way to go.