LifeInContrast.com

It no longer seems weird to see a steering wheel on the right-hand side of a car.  In fact, it seems weird to think of the wheel being on the left.  I can barely imagine it.

It doesn’t feel uncomfortable anymore to drive my motorcycle on the left side of the road.   It’s almost second-nature now.  It will be strange to drive on the right side when we return.

American dollars seem foreign to me.  They make me think of Monopoly money.  So strange that they’re all one color.

I see bats every night from our balcony.  I weave in and out of cars every day on my way to work.  There are ants on my walls and my floors.

I don’t blink twice when surrounded by dozens of teens chattering in Indonesian, while I munch a Big Mac by myself.  I’m not surprised when a half-dozen people call out my name when I take a ten minute walk down our street.  It doesn’t make me uncomfortable anymore when the staff insists on racking the balls after every game at the local pool hall.

I’ve been adjusting for a long time now.  I’ve felt well-adjusted for many months, in fact.  But it’s happening on a bigger scale now.  Life has become normal, and I’m being absorbed.  The US seems strange, unusual.  It will be quite an experience when we visit in May.

Happy New Year everyone. I hope 2008 brings you the realization of your aspirations, and the courage to do whatever your heart tells you.

Here is a quote from Udjo Ngalagena, master angklung player and teacher. He is also the founder of the Saung Angklung Udjo center, which promotes understanding, education, and appreciation of the angklung (a Sundanese bamboo instrument) with workshops and daily performances featuring children of all ages.

Udjo said:
“What You Are, What Job You Have Chosen,
Do It Well, Do It With Love,
Without Love, You Are Dead Before You Die”

Roughly seven days ago, my 29 year-old brother lay in the hospital with severe back pain, unable to move or feel his legs.  The doctors were testing him, frantically trying to figure out what the problem was.  When they said there was a possibility that he would never walk again, it was hard to fathom and very scary.  On a steroid drip and getting multiple injections and tests, this period has been tough for Andy and for my entire family.

Now Andy is recovering in Canada with my parents and my sister Cindy.  He is making progress, able to walk slowly on his own, although it’s unclear whether he’ll regain full mobility.  It’s still such a shock that this happened to my vibrant, healthy younger brother.   If you’ve met Andy, then you already know that he’s extremely creative and full of life.  That’s why it was so hard to see him incapacitated and in despair.

The spinal virus has receded, but has left behind massive medical bills since Andy wasn’t covered by insurance.  He may qualify for some assistance, but the remaining financial obligation is still intimidating.  The bar/pub where Andy works put out a bowl to raise money for him; one regular put in a hundred dollar bill!  Another put in one thousand dollars!  Very touching.  It makes me think of the end of It’s a Wonderful Life, where the entire town files into George Bailey’s house and makes a contribution to help him get his head above water.

This Christmas, I’m celebrating with Denise and her mom Bonnie, who has come all the way from Seattle to visit.  It will be a little “different” than Christmases back home, to say the least.  Although this is a Muslim country, there are Christmas decorations and songs in the malls and supermarkets.  The ojek drivers said “Merry Christmas” to us several times yesterday, which was really cool.  But I’m thousands of miles away from the rest of my family, who are recovering and feeling grateful.  I’m feeling grateful too, and in a way this might be the best Christmas ever, because my brother is still alive and is getting better.  All I want for Christmas (Dad) is a quick video of Andy dancing a jig.  Doesn’t have to be too wild, just a little dance.

Merry Christmas everyone - I miss you.

Several months ago, while visiting the beach towns of Pangandaran and Batu Karas on the south coast of Java, we learned about the legend of Nyi Roro Kidul, the goddess who rules those seas. In the beach town of Pelabuhan Ratu, a local hotel has a room set aside for her, outfitted entirely in green, her color. Indeed, you dare not wear green at the seaside, for fear of incurring her wrath and being pulled to a watery grave.

    
(Batu Karas and Billy surfing)

One night we were relaxing on the beach at Pangandaran, sipping some Johnny Walker Red among the fishing boats with Russell and a fellow Indonesian teacher named Tony. Denise remarked that she smelled flowers. Tony looked at us strangely, and said that smelling flowers was the first sign that Nyi Roro Kidul was coming.

Shortly after that, one of us mentioned that we saw lights in the water. We were completely unaware that this was the second sign that Nyi Roro Kidul was coming until Tony told us. He also mentioned that the third (and final) sign was actually seeing her castle rise up out of the water.

Sure enough, way out on the water, a raft floated by. It had a green tarp pulled over it, with a glowing light inside, that could easily pass for the castle of a sea goddess.

Thankfully, none of us were were pulled out to a watery grave that night.

Little Known Fact #2: We can see bats any time we want, simply by stepping onto our balcony at night.  I’m not sure why there are so many of them.  I think there are caves in the general vicinity.

They swoop really close to our balcony.  They alight on the branches of the nearby guava tree.  The other night, a bat got “stuck” for a few seconds in the closed portion of our balcony.  I’m ashamed to admit that I shrieked like I too was a bat.

There are so many little details about our daily life in Indonesia.  Many of these little details, you’re probably not aware of.  And there are too many to fit into one posting.  So I’ve decided to start a new category - LKF (Little Known Facts).

LKF #1 - We don’t flush our toilet paper, we collect it in a little bin next to the toilet.

Most toilets (Western or otherwise) in Bandung are unable to flush toilet paper.  Ours is no exception.  We collect it in a lined trashbin with a lid.  It sounds gross, but you can’t smell anything.

It’s probably for the best, because our toilet empties into the creek behind our house.  Not our choice - it’s just the way the house was built.  To make things even weirder, I swear I can hear people washing things in the same creek.  I don’t know how to feel about that.

To be honest, Thanksgiving came and went without much notice here.  I almost forgot it completely until my boss (from England) asked me if today was the day.

My dinner tonight was nasi rendang, a sort of beef curry dish from Sumatra that is my absolute favorite Indonesian meal.  I eat it a lot, so I can’t pretend it was anything special.  But it was tasty.

(click on the thumbnail for a legend/key, with a full breakdown of the meal)

Don’t feel bad for me - it was delicious.

So we finally took some time off work and went on a proper vacation last week, to Bali (which many people don’t realize is part of Indonesia).

First stop was Ubud, the cultural and artistic heartland of Bali. In Ubud we saw many mesmerizing paintings, impressive stone- and wood-carvings, metalwork, and jewelry. We watched a traditional Balinese dance performance called legong that was hypnotic for me. We took a long walk in rice paddies, and got trapped in a unbelievable deluge of a downpour that flooded a nearby bridge (picture below). We walked through a “Monkey Forest Sanctuary” with temples honoring the dead - very Indiana Jones (pictures below).

(click on thumbnails above to enlarge)

We also enjoyed some world-class dining. Bandung’s efforts at recreating Western cuisine can often be disappointing. Not so in Ubud, where we finally satisfied our cravings for dishes we’d been missing. We also had full breakfasts, including bacon, which is hard to get in Muslim Bandung (by contrast, Bali is predominantly Hindu).

Next, we spent several days in the Kuta/Legian/Seminyak area. Kuta Beach is the most popular, most famous, and most touristy area of Bali. A long easygoing beach stretches the length of these three cities. We swam many times, and I tried to surf. Oddly, we managed to take almost no pictures of this area. We just wanted to relax anyway. Many boardwalk-like streets, with hundreds of street stalls selling everything under the sun. The hawkers were extremely aggressive. If you showed any interest at all, suddenly they were all over you. And the guys hawking transportation just wouldn’t quit. Here’s a typical conversation:

Hawker: “Excuse me, you want transport?”
Us: “Oh… no thanks.”
Hawker: “Okay, yes?”
Us: “Uh, no. Thanks anyway.”
Hawker: “Yes, cheap price, yes?”
Us: “Thanks anyway!”
Hawker: “Maybe tomorrow?”
Us: “Well, maybe, I don’t know.”
Hawker: “Okay, you sign up now!”
Us: “No, argh…”

I understand their motivation, but it got tiring after a while. Things are just so different in Bandung, where you get genuine smiles because you are unusual-looking, not because you represent money. I found myself craving real interaction with an Indonesian.

Last stop was Dreamland Beach, a quieter place recommended by several of Denise’s students and mentioned briefly in our Lonely Planet guidebook. It was fun, but it wasn’t what we expected. There were big 6- or 7-foot waves crashing just 15 feet from the water’s edge. To go swimming, you had to run headlong towards the water and dive through the first wave you saw, otherwise you risked getting knocked off your feet if you strolled leisurely toward the water. Denise and I sat at beach cafes, drinking beer, and laughing our heads off as “newbies” got knocked on their butts and stood up shocked.

Even if you made it past the first waves to the actual ocean, you had to keep on your toes, and be alert for additional monster waves that came every 30 seconds or so, and could be 10 feet tall or higher. Denise somersaulted to the shore after one massive wave, and then repeated twice more immediately after. Time for a beer. But if you wanted to leave the water, the riptide made it hard to leave, until a big wave came and slammed you onto the beach and filled your shorts with sand. Seriously, that was the only way to leave the water. I found it all kind of thrilling (the waves, not the sand in the shorts), but I think it was a bit much for Denise.

(click thumbnails to enlarge)

Our “hotel” in Dreamland was more like a surfer’s dive. Shared bathroom among five rooms. Semi-hot room with old fan. Everything was sticky from the salty breeze. But hey, it was right on the beach (see the views from our porch, above), and super cheap. Unfortunately, it was so close to the beach that when the waves increased during the night, it became impossible to sleep. To be honest, the waves were so huge it was terrifyingly loud, sometimes making the bed vibrate, and encouraging thoughts of tsunamis and rogue waves. Finally the waves calmed down and we got some sleep.

In all, the trip to Bali was not what we expected, but what vacation ever is? Bali was great in its own way, and I can’t wait to go back.

The other night as we sat on our porch and watched the first serious thunderstorm since we’ve arrived, we both remarked that we couldn’t believe it was 5 months already. I told Denise “here we are!”

It was really relaxing to watch the hard rain fall from the dark clouds to the green landscape below, dripping off the banana leaves, making the birds fly for cover, and making the road in front of our house very muddy. The day slowly turned into night and the lightning lit up the sky. Thunder rolled across the hills. Our friend Russell came over later and chatted with us on the porch.

This weekend I am headed to Jakarta as the only competitor from all 3 of our Bandung schools, to participate in a Bahasa Indonesia spelling bee for teachers whose first language is English (i.e. Westerners).  The spelling bee in Jakarta pits me against representatives from our schools all across Indonesia, although it’s possible most of my competitors will be from Jakarta itself.

Not only do I have to spell Bahasa Indonesia words, but I have to spell them in Bahasa Indonesia.  So if I’m spelling a word with the letter “k” in it, I have to pronounce it “kah” instead of  “kay”.  My Indonesian co-workers have been quizzing me and helping me to understand the pronunciation.  Since Bahasa Indonesia words are pronounced consistently the same based on spelling, I’ve been able to figure out the spelling of most words, even if I have no idea what they mean.  Apparently I’m doing pretty well.

First prize includes a decent amount of cash, a case of beer, and other goodies from sponsors.  I expect to bring home the gold.