tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34452629476819785592024-03-06T06:07:22.285+07:00It's always a 12 hour dayDocumenting the integration and transformation of a middle-aged expat into life in Jakarta, Indonesia.Unknownnoreply@blogger.comBlogger74125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3445262947681978559.post-3384092653637773072014-09-26T23:04:00.001+07:002014-09-26T23:12:18.134+07:00Pulang<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
The word pulang means to go home in Indonesian. At the end of the day, you would say pulang to your driver when you finished whatever you were doing and you wanted to tell him it was time to head for home. Or, you might say it to your staff if they were no longer needed or the weather was getting bad and you wanted to send them home before a storm got worse.<br />
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So pulang, is what we have done. We finally made it to our own home here in our "Mother Land." We've recently passed the 8 week mark and the jet lag is gone, but the reverse culture shock is still hanging on. As we try to sort out how to begin again in our own country and re-embrace our home country's culture, there are odd moments that occur.<br />
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I have tried and tried to think of what to say to wrap up this blog. Part of me is having a hard time letting it go. In the beginning, it was how I hung on when I was plunged in to such a massive change in my life. Part of me feels that I should be able to write something so deep and so profound to do this experience justice that I will make a really meaningful statement for myself and to anyone reading this. Those words are still not coming to me. It isn't for lack of want, it is just it's hard to sum up something that is such a personal experience in a way that makes sense of it all.<br />
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In some ways, our homecoming is kind of like having to re-learn something that you once knew how to do. You know how to do it, but you feel very rusty and awkward trying to do it. The TV shows are different, the grocery stores are different, the neighborhoods are different, the way people interact with one another is different. All of these things, and so much more, are different than what you have had to learn to do over the last 4.5 years. You almost don't realize that you have changed during this time and how you are just slightly out-of-step with your fellow citizens. It becomes painfully obvious when you try to jump right back in. It is odd to feel like you are the outsider, again. It makes for days of feeling a bit lost and conflicted.<br />
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The good part is that while this is uncomfortable, we knew this was going to happen. And so we can keep reassuring ourselves about the weird feelings that arise.<br />
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It feels ridiculous when you go to a grocery store and can't buy large quantities of things because you have been trained not to do that due to lack of storage space, a housekeeper who wanted to cook everything you brought home even when you didn't ask her to, and going to the grocery was one normal thing that you could do. You feel like someone's grandmother, even though I am at the age where I could be, driving so much slower than you did when you left 4.5 years ago because you are not used to driving a lot and you are used to traveling at a snails pace a good portion of the time due to traffic. It also feels silly that you walk out of your house and wonder where everyone is. I can walk a mile and a half and maybe see one or two people and 10 or 15 cars. For our 4.5 years of expat training, about the only time you didn't see people or cars was when you were in the shower. <br />
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However, I am clinging to the things that I learned that I think are really important. It is such an asset to know a foreign language. I plan to take Spanish lessons as that is what I hear a lot in Texas. I talk to strangers much more frequently. I look store clerks, waitstaff, and other service folks in the eye and say hello and thank you and really mean it. It seems to have the same effect, the majority of the time, that it did when I was living in a foreign land on the people who work at jobs that most don't value. There are all kinds of friendships and relationships. The people who value you are the ones to be valued and one should not settle for less.<br />
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Are there things I miss? You bet! There were such unique experiences to be had and such an assortment of friends from so many different places all bringing their own style and brand of "being" to the table. I miss the easy smiles that would come to faces of almost anyone you encountered during the day. I miss my Scoopy named Daisy. I feel really blessed to have had the opportunity to experience something that has made such an impression on my life. <br />
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Are there things I don't miss? You bet! The traffic, sanitation issues, poverty, corruption, poor health care, and the constant feeling of not really being able to relax fully. Even though these things were part of what made me grow and change, I don't miss them. <br />
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Are there things I am so glad to return to? You bet your bottom dollar! The simple joy of being able to put your toothbrush under the water coming from your faucet is such a pleasure. Being about to cook without quite so much "assistance." Getting in my car and driving myself (slowly perhaps) to a destination and not having to tell anyone where I want to go. Being able to call my son, family and friends without having to figure out what time it is there versus what time it is here or having to get up at stupid o'clock to deal with someone about a question or problem that needs to be addressed. It's good to be home.<br />
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Since I can't come up with anything prophetic to end this accounting of my integration in to foreign life and the transformation that ensued, I will use the lyrics of a song that in a lighthearted way describes the jumble of feelings that remain. Thanks for sharing the ride with me. For those of you who commented on my posts, you don't know how much I appreciated knowing there was someone out there reading what I wrote and making me feel connected to a world that I left behind.<br />
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"Oh, Yesterday's over my shoulder<br />
So I can't look back for too long<br />
There's just too much to see waiting in front of me<br />
And I know that I just can't go wrong<br />
With these changes in latitudes, changes in attitudes<br />
Nothing remains quite the same<br />
Through all of the islands and all of the highlands<br />
If we couldn't laugh we would all go insane"<br />
Jimmy Buffett - Changes in Latitudes, Changes in Attitudes<br />
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3445262947681978559.post-13462047858975922782014-07-03T16:47:00.003+07:002014-07-07T19:54:55.507+07:00Living with volcanoes<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
It has been a strange, wonderful, frustrating, illuminating and down-right amazing time here. As I progress through these final couple of weeks, things still continue to happen to remind me that we have in fact done a pretty fair job of embracing the culture.<br />
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Over the last few days, I have been trying to sell off goods that we cannot or don't want to take home with us. Various people have paraded through and looked at things and today I had to take my beloved scooter, Daisy, for a spin on very wet streets to find a guy who is interested in buying my washing machine. So off we went, Daisy and I, just as if we had been doing it all of our lives. It made me smile.<br />
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Our staff is benefiting from this relocation too. Goods are being given to them and they will use them to furnish their own homes. I enjoy the thought of our refrigerator cooling soto ayam at our house keepers home, our gardener and his wife watching the TV that we gave them and our driver going to and from his new job on the Ninja that my amazingly generous husband gave to him. Other goodies have made it in to the jagas hands as well. A chess set, guitar, small refrigerator, water cooler, two burner cook top and various clothes will be put to good use.<br />
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Tomorrow, I will take clothes to the trash pickers and hand over shoes, socks, underwear, slacks, shirts, blouses, tee shirts and capri pants that will provide something new for them to wear. I see the men pulling the carts with no shoes. Wearing shirts and pants that we would relegate to the rag pile. They will have "new to them" clothes that I hope will be comfortable and practical. I have seen such a different type of life here.<br />
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It still amazes me when on a clear day you can see the volcanoes that are all around us. The golf course we have played on the last couple of weeks has stunning views of Gunung Salak which lies South of Jakarta. I love that volcanoes create their own weather. The clouds hover around the top and you play peek-a-boo. The weather moves up and down the flanks of it as if the volcano were the center of its universe.<br />
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Volcanoes are strange and powerful things. Most of the time they just sit there and don't do a lot. Then all of a sudden they unleash their fury and transform the landscape and lives of the people nearby. They show their power but also their ability to create new land and provide fertile soil to grow crops which sustains the people who live so close to the danger. It is risky business to live close by.<br />
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Perhaps you don't have to have a actual volcano erupt to be transformed. A theoretical one will do the same thing. Our volcano was the move and transition here. The eruption of emotions, fears, dangers real and perceived, trying to figure out a new culture, struggling to learn a new language, finding your way. These are transforming things and many times you don't see the transformation in yourself.<br />
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I began writing this post yesterday, and today I did in fact go to the trash pickers area near our home. The back of the car was loaded with goods and we were there early in the morning, so many of the workers were still about. I got out of the car and my driver and I opened the back hatch. Several of the men wandered up curious what we wanted. When they spied the shoes, they got excited. Sepatu was the word I heard first (it is one of the Portuguese based words in this language and means shoe). These men who either had no shoes or just flip flops got really excited. Then we started to hand out bags of clothing. There was a cute man's hat sitting on top of one of the bags and that got scooped up and put on top of a head all which generated a huge smile from the wearer and from me. Yes, that was a moment of transformation.<br />
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The other thing that happened today was that I took my maid and gardener over to their new employer's apartment. This very nice couple who are new to Indonesia have hired them. We feel fortunate that they have come in to our lives and in to our staffs. But as I visited today you could tell it is all a bit overwhelming. Learning how things work here is a challenge and the language issue is a huge barrier. I can see it in my new friend's eyes and her actions. She is trying so hard to do it right. She has limited language skills and even though mine aren't great, I can get the job done. She was so amazed how I got the staff at least familiarized with her apartment and some of the things inside and out and how to navigate. It really was not that impressive, but I realized I was comfortable with my limitations yet handled it with confidence apparently. I so remember being in her position four and a half years ago. It is so nice to not be quite so new. But I smile thinking of all the new and wonderful things they will discover as their time here grows. More transformation, perhaps not as obvious as the example before but perhaps longer lasting.<br />
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Through this non-geologic volcanic eruption, we have grown. We have changed. Some scars have been acquired, but hopefully much more fertile ground has been laid to grow new thoughts and new experiences.<br />
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3445262947681978559.post-84177470217214251102014-07-03T16:01:00.000+07:002014-07-07T19:57:09.857+07:00All that is bittersweet<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
I have spent some of the time that I have left here saying goodbye to many of the business people who have contributed to my education, enjoyment, and pleasure of living on this great big island called Java.<br />
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To Shelly and Sri who know me by name at the grocery. They make sure the other cashiers know my name when I go to check out. The last time I was in there, I had my picture taken with Shelly while we stood in front of the mango display. I just loved that little event.<br />
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To Aty and Henny at the frame shop where I have spent a lot of time and money. You are so patient and have such a good eye. You have helped me countless times decide on mats and frames to make my photographs look their best. Today, while I visited with you, it felt so very special. I too will treasure the photos of tiga ibu who wouldn't wear their glasses for the pictures. Hugs ladies.<br />
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To Pak Lukman. I cried when I said goodbye to you today. Your sweet and gentle nature just touched me so much each and every time we spoke. I couldn't do a photo because I had tears streaming down my face and that wouldn't really reflect what a joy it has been to know you. I will enjoy, for years to come, all of the items you and your talented family have made. Most of all I will hold dear the decorated Scoopy helmet that will go on display in a case at my new home. It is priceless.<br />
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To the staff at Antipodean where honey pie and I visit for Sunday morning breakfast most weekends. Its small, its loud with noise from coffee being ground, heavy wooden chairs being dragged over the floor, children fussing and people talking. Yet, I find I feel kind of like "Norm" on the TV show "Cheers." They all know us and when one or the other isn't there they ask where we are. I will miss your cappuccino and the lovely foam art work on top. I will miss your mushroom cheese omelet. I will miss those lovely smiling faces no matter what is going on in the room. You are always gracious and accommodating. You introduced me to hot honey lemon which is a miracle salve for sore throats. Sunday morning breakfast will never be the same. <br />
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To the incredibly goofy nine hole golf course of Fatmawati. I love Fatmawati like I love bajajs. On the surface they are so dirty and imperfect and weird. But that is what makes them rather charming. They are unassuming and get the job done in a unique way that isn't all polished and slick. I love that they have one lawn mower at Fatmawati. It takes so long for them to mow from the first hole to the ninth hole, that the grass goes to seed somewhere on the course at sometime during the week. You are guaranteed to be picking grass seeds off your socks. If you don't, you will end up with them stuck in your underwear days later after all the white things gets washed together. I love the people walking to and fro on the course and the motorcycles and scooters that are parked in the fairway when a group comes to visit the guy mowing. But you can go out there and hit four or five shots from the tee or from the fairway or practice your chipping or pitching and no one is there to fuss. If someone wants to play through, you stand aside let them finish and then go back to practicing. You really can't putt as the greens are so lumpy the ball bounces all around. There is a mosque located directly beside one of the holes and if you are fortunate enough to be there during call to prayer, you get blasted out by the loud speakers. I think the professionals should come play here as it is really silly that people have to stay perfectly quiet while they hit on to immaculately manicured greens from immaculately manicured tees and fairways. What a bunch of whimps! The caddies are really good and I still miss Pak Andi every time I go. The only two birdies I have ever made in my year and a half of playing golf have been at Fatmawati. I will miss you.<br />
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To yet another golf course. This one is called Matoa. It has, hands-down, the best iced lemon tea I have had here. It is also here, that I have been assigned so many aliases that I have almost forgotten my own name. I have been Juli, July, and June along with others, but those are my favorites. Never did make it to April or May. The guys at the front all know us by name (maybe not always the correct one) and for a while I felt like it was my home course. You helped me expand my identity - one new name at a time.<br />
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To Chef Yogi, Pak Rahib and the lovely staff at FJ Bistro. I loved that you guys gave me a shout-out one day in the grocery. What a fabulous surprise in a city of 13 million to have you find me. You have always made room for us even if we didn't have a reservation. I will miss the green mango salad with prawns. Oh, I will miss that soooo much. We always felt so special when we dined there. Thank you for you graciousness.<br />
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To the little man who stands at the flower stall in my neighborhood and helps wave traffic on. I enjoy seeing you smile and help motion cars on even if they really are not paying any attention to you. You are being productive to me in that I see you almost everyday and enjoy your presence.<br />
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To the man who used to pull the trash cart that had a child riding in it. I now see you wander without the cart or the child and I worry about you. I have no idea how to help. I say prayers for you as I can't imagine what is going on in your life. May better things be in store for you.<br />
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To the satay guy who has a giant grill and cooks up some of the most delicious smelling chicken satay around. I love watching you fan the charcoals with your woven fan and the smoke just pouring out. As we drive down the hill I can tell its a busy night just by the thickness of the smoke. Selamat makan.<br />
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Last but not least, to the wonderful ladies at the spas I have visited. You have petted and pampered me on so many occasions that I am spoiled rotten. The healing that happens from touch is very underrated. It has been such a pleasure to have you help me over days that were just so bad and I was so homesick and fed up with how to cope in such a foreign place. I can't begin to thank you enough. The joys of a delicious creme bath, which I have never known until here, will be something that I will miss for a long time to come.<br />
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3445262947681978559.post-14777094491732706532014-07-01T16:31:00.000+07:002014-07-03T17:15:46.155+07:00The Southern Cross<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
As we prepare to leave this place we have made our home for the last four and a half years, it is just a flood of emotions. You go between the elation of returning to your home country and familiar things and the sadness of leaving a place you have worked so hard to make your home. The excitement of returning to the friends and family that you only get to see a few days out of the year is contrasted with the hole in your heart that you know will happen when you leave the people who have been your stand-in family.<br />
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Yet you know that in four and a half years, things have gone on without you and in some ways you will be like a newcomer to your own country. This is a bit unnerving to think about. I keep telling myself that I need to allow time to re-acclimate and get in the swing of things at home. What a strange concept that is. To know you are going to feel displaced just like you felt displaced when you arrived in a far-away land, maybe not to the massive extent, is just down-right weird.<br />
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The highs and lows of the situation came to a head last weekend when a big ole' cry was what was needed to vent some of the pressure. My sweet, sweet husband took it well and I think in some ways he found relief in that messy, multi-tissue situation. The fury died, and we were able to move on and begin the next stage of the process.<br />
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All the anxiety of getting things done has been challenging. It is like any other move on the surface, but the distance involved, the billion moving parts that you are trying to synchronize between two worlds and three different countries just scrambles your mind. <br />
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Living as we have in Indonesia, there are various things that you have to handle that most of us don't when we move within the US or even other countries. It has pretty much become our responsibility to find positions for the three staff members that we directly employ. Currently in Indonesia, that is a little tough as the industry sweetums works in is not bringing very many American citizens in to work here, nor does the Indonesian government want us here. In fact, when my honey pie leaves the group he is currently in, there will only be one expat left. The government is pushing very hard for Nationalism. That means people with 35 years of experience will be replaced with Nationals who have 3, 5 or perhaps 10 years of experience. In this industry, that is not a very productive practice. But it is what it is. Yet it seems odd that it fall on us to find jobs for those we have employed.<br />
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The ramifications of all this filters through out the population. We directly employ three people plus the company supplies us with four jagas (guards) for our house who we consider our staff as well. In our 4.5 years here we have paid for schooling for our staff's children, we have purchased computers, paid for hospital bills for illnesses and births, given interest free loans for house repairs, vehicle purchases and advanced education for the older children, and home purchases. When we leave, those seven people will have all of those things go away unless the next employer they have agrees to feel these things are important. Many local employers do not feel that way for their household staff. To be fair, there are expats who feel the same way. This is an employer's prerogative to pay what they feel is fair for the job done.<br />
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I am not trying to sound as if we are the only people in this country who are lending a helping hand to its people or that we have done anything so magnanimous. There are other expat friends who are medical professionals who have worked with local doctors performing eye surgeries, secured child size walkers from the US and administered physical therapy, teachers who have taught English skills and thought out lesson plans, regular moms and dads who have taught children basic hygiene skills, rocked babies in cancer wards and orphanages, raised money to build schools, donated books and time, and the list goes on and on. These people cared enough and did these things free of charge. I think our expat community gives a lot of support through creating jobs, training new-hires at corporations, donating time, and a good deal of money. It isn't all pretty and I would be misleading you if I didn't admit some expats behave badly. Human nature has a very odd way of surfacing especially when folks are away from home. I've seen it happen to seemingly pretty normal people who are fine when they are on home soil but loose control when taken out of their environment.<br />
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But through all of this rambling, I should return to the title of my post - The Southern Cross. My local honey and I grew up in the 70's and Crosby, Stills, and Nash were big. One of their songs, Southern Cross, always sticks in my head. I thought about how there are millions and millions of stars that are on each side of the world that go un-viewed by the other side. The Southern Cross is one of those constellations that would fall in the un-viewed category for us.<br />
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I thought about this unseen constellation while we were in Bali for the very last time. This visit happened to fall on the Balinese Day of Silence or Nyepi. On this day, people are asked to stay indoors as much as possible, to speak quietly, stay off the beaches and golf courses, the airport is closed and lighting is at bare minimal levels at night. So on this very dark, still night in Bali I looked out from our balcony and spied what I thought might be the Southern Cross. I looked it up on line and sure enough, I was correct. So we very quietly slipped from our room and wandered out on the dark hotel grounds and gazed up at this very simple, rather unassuming constellation. I thought of the song and how being out on the ocean looking up at it from that inky blackness must have made it even brighter and prettier and inspire the writer of the lyrics to reference it.<br />
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Our time here has been filled with many of these unseen shining stars that we had never witnessed, and in many cases had never even heard about. We all live in our own worlds and our own countries and we often forget that there are so many more things out there unless we open our eyes and allow things to come in. No, it isn't as simple as that I am afraid. But by looking up and out instead of always looking in, we learn.<br />
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"When you see the Southern Cross for the first time<br />
You understand now why you came this way<br />
'Cause the truth you might be runnin' from is so small<br />
But it's as big as the promise, the promise of a comin' day"<br />
lyrics by Stephan Stills<br />
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3445262947681978559.post-16041876068965202372014-02-21T16:13:00.000+07:002014-02-21T16:22:16.831+07:00Singin' the Jet Lag Blues<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
FYI. This is a post I wrote last year. Obviously, it is about one of my return trips to Jakarta. I found it, and decided to post it even if it is not dated correctly.<br />
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You know, for some unknown reason I seem to think that I should be unaffected by the ugly, ugly thing called jet lag. Maybe it is that I still am not as seasoned a traveler as some of the expats who have had years of training in the fine art of flying from one side of the world to the other.<br />
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You know how you feel when day-light-savings-time kicks in twice a year? Well, it is like that but magnified by a factor of 12. The first week you are all over the place with sleeping. Actually, you are all over the place with not sleeping. 45 minute naps during normal sleeping times. Completely awake by one or two in the morning. Trying to go back to sleep around four and then getting up around 5:15 to be ready to go to the gym by six. Trying to get up at my normal time as soon as the week began and get as much morning light and some exercise to see if that would help reset my clock.<br />
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I have so far found - that hasn't really helped. I am now wondering if I should take Ambien twice a day, every day for a week and just sleep through the process. Would that just make it a longer process? <br />
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I tried melatonin and that didn't help. In fact it seemed to actually make me more awake. What is that about? It is just an ugly process which I can't seem to figure out. Any suggestions are appreciated.</div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3445262947681978559.post-39330431012014882142014-02-21T16:11:00.001+07:002014-02-21T16:11:11.644+07:00Four years and so much more<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Well, four years have come and gone. Yet, we seem to have come full circle in rather ironic ways.<br />
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I think one of my first posts to this blog was about being only 3 or 4 weeks in to living in a foreign land and my honey had to go to Australia. All of this occurred right before my birthday. I got great opals from the land down-under for a gift and specially made creme bruleĀ“for dessert in celebration of the day of my birth. I survived the panic and overwhelmed feeling I had during those particular difficult early days. It wasn't easy, but we did it.<br />
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Why am I bringing this up? Here we are four years later and sugar lips came home last night and told me he has to go to Australia for a meeting. You guessed it. It's over my birthday. This time I am not nervous or panicky. I know how to get to and from Australia if I want to go. I know how to talk to the clerks in the store to ask for things without having a dictionary in my hand. I don't have to drag my laundry across the street, through security, and dump it on a counter for all to examine just to get it washed. I am used to being swarmed by motorcycles inches from my car door or vehicles, large and small, coming at you from all kinds of directions that are not natural. I know which local dishes I like and don't have to resort to just ordering pasta off a menu because it is the only thing I recognize.<br />
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The other thing that was ironic was that on the actual day of our "four years here" anniversary we had to resort to riding to our destination in a bajaj. Yes, we got to ride in the very contraption that I have found so amusing from day one. My honey pot has never ridden in a bajaj the entire time we have been here. Yes, it's hard to believe. However, it was easily fixed.<br />
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The reason for this situation was because our car was being serviced. We knew we could just get a cab when the schedule worked out that way. No worries, pak and ibu. However, the problem was, there were no taxis at the normal place there are taxis in our neighborhood. This left us with two choices, bajaj or ojek as a means of transport. <br />
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Since I don't relish the idea of head lice, and a communal motorcycle helmet is a prime cultivation area, we chose a bajaj. We scored well. The bajaj we chose at the front of the line was clean inside. The seat wasn't ripped or the foam pad missing chunks in strategic places for sitting comfortably. The little door stayed latched. Pak Ito was very nice and best of all the bajaj did NOT smoke like a volcano.<br />
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We climbed in and off we went to the Dharmawangsa Hotel for a round of chocolate martinis with friends and a nice dinner to follow. As we putted along, my sweetheart, who has so gotten in to cell phone photography and videography, made a little movie of our excursion. The only crucial thing he left out was the struggle that little bajaj had when we got to a very large hill. At one point I thought we were going to have to get out and push the bajaj to the top. Two bule behinds are much heavier than the local ones apparently. <br />
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We arrived to the Dharmawangsa a little sweaty but relatively fume free and had stunning chocolate martinis with friends. It was an unexpected way to add local flavor to our "four years here" celebration.<br />
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So, are we back to where we started? Kind of. But the view is so much different with four years of experience.<br />
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<br /></div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3445262947681978559.post-61111270270419344272014-02-21T14:59:00.001+07:002014-02-21T14:59:33.422+07:00So much to be thankful for<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
I am currently on home soil, this Sunday before Thanksgiving. The day finds me blending home country traditions with new country discoveries. I'm making my list of grocery items that I need for the big feast on Thanksgiving Day while I watch the final Formula 1 Grand Prix race on TV. It's an excellent blend of old and new.<br />
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This will be the first Thanksgiving and Christmas at home in 4 years. My sweetie pie will be celebrating Thanksgiving in Jakarta while I have the good fortune to share the day with sweetie pie #2 and friends here in America. I wish he could be here too, but there is only so much vacation time to go around. <br />
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The good news is, he will be here soon and we will all celebrate a Masters Degree earned, another birthday, and Christmas. It is hard to stuff too many more things to be thankful for in to just a few weeks time.<br />
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As the title of my posts says, there is so much to be thankful for. The last 4 years have taught us many things. We've learned about a new culture. One that is strikingly different from our own. We've learned a new language. It is, on the surface, simple but it can get complicated very quickly with various prefixes and such. Since it isn't based on a romance language, except for the sprinkling of Portuguese words that occur occasionally, it takes a while to train your ear to understand what's being said to you. I still really only posses basic skills, but I get by.<br />
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We've learned about sports that we've never really followed before. Formula 1 racing and Moto GP were never on our TV screen at home before now. We are learning golf. While yes, we have knocked the ball around many, many years ago; we actually get out and play now. This will be a game that we will spend a lifetime to learn.<br />
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I'm thankful for the opportunity to grow as a person in a way I didn't know I could. I remember back in high school we had exchange students at our school. I feel like I have been on a very long exchange program. While I haven't been in a formal school setting, I have been in the school of life. They both have equal value.<br />
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But I feel that we are having very a similar experience to each other; those exchange students and I. The staff we employ at our house are a bit like a host family. Even though we are their employers, they are the most constant contact I have on the most personal basis with our temporary country of residence. I have seen pictures of their children who we are helping to educate, the houses that we are loaning money to them to help have built or repaired, through illnesses, weddings and just day-to-day life we interact with each other. The minute I walk out the door, there is always at least one smiling, familiar face to say hello to and ask how they are. I will miss them, and I think they will miss us.<br />
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But, I am thankful to be home in my own space with a bit more privacy in my day-to-day living. That is one of the major differences I think. As Americans, we live life much more privately. Their lives are more out in the open. Some of this is out of necessity for each culture. Our worlds are very different in this way. I am thankful that I have gotten to see this contrast.<br />
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So many, many things that I have seen and experience in this time. Too many to list. But I hope they will last me a lifetime.<br />
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I am happily giving thanks. May it be the same with you.<br />
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<br /></div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3445262947681978559.post-68181802530320974522013-04-29T17:59:00.003+07:002013-06-26T21:43:40.731+07:00I will always be Miss July<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
My honey bunch and I are attempting to play golf. Some days it's not bad and some days it is so bad I want to give up completely. In this attempt to master the links, we are taking lessons and we try and go out and play on a real 18 hole course once a week<br />
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The closest course to us is a very hilly course that has bunkers that would be able to actually protect you in case of an emergency. They only pretend to be actual golf course obstacles. You hit your ball in there and you practically need steps to get in and out.<br />
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The staff there is quite nice and we have played there many Saturdays in a row. Therefore, when our car pulls up they greet us by name and fill out little cards on pieces of elastic thread to connect to our golf bags. The only problem is, that they get my name wrong every time. I am always Ibu July or Miss July. They are so insistent that this is my name nothing seems to change their minds. This past Saturday, sweetie and I decided we would cut all the old tags off and I would fill out my own card and leave it on the bag so they might get it correct.<br />
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Ahhh. Those clever boys had the hatch open on the car before I could even get my seat belt off. As soon as I stepped out and approached the desk, they were greeting me and writing MISS JULY as big as life. Well, what is a girl to do? It really makes no difference. I have a history of people calling me other names than my own. I get Linda, Julie, Carol, a few non-repeatable names and my own mother-in-law called me Robin early in my relationship with her son. I've gotten used to it and sometimes the correction isn't worth the effort. This is one of those times.<br />
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Golf here is very unique. All the courses have caddies and you are required to have one. Some of them are quite skilled golfers in their own right and their advice can be very helpful to a newbie like me. Some of them will tee your ball up for you, select a club for you and give you little hints as to what landmark to aim for. For example they might say "bunga merah" (red flower) referring to a red flowering shrub in the distance. Or perhaps "pohon tingi kiri" (tall tree on the left). They will tell you the break of the green and if you should hit your putt three balls to the right, or if it is downhill, or if it is a fast green. It is all great info, but putting all that info to use is sometimes just not possible to an inconsistent beginner. But bless their hearts, I do appreciate it and I am hoping to one day make them proud and actually convert their suggestions in to action.<br />
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Some of the caddies are great fun. Last week we had Hendri and Rudi as our caddies. Hendri was very nice. Never laughed and would cheer and high five me if I made a good shot. He and Rudi knew that their tips would be better if they cheered us on and kept the comments about bad shots to themselves. But their excitement seemed pretty genuine as we got very excited too when we made a good solid drive or actually made par on a hole. Whoohooo!<br />
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One of the cuter things that happened involved one of my club head covers. I purchased a zombie cover for my driver. He has one eye that hangs out and a Mohawk hairdo. Well by the 15th hole I think poor Hendri was just about worn out with me and my coordination was about shot so it was getting rather ugly. So while I was waiting for my turn to tee off, I see Hendri over to the side punking up my zombies hair. He was combing it with his fingers and then pushing it between his hands so the Mohawk would stand straight up. It was rather hilarious considering that a few weeks before the caddy I had would hold my zombie by his ears and give him a little shake and make a grrrrr sound. My zombie gets lots of attention and should never feel neglected.<br />
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The other thing that happened was that when we stopped to use the restroom and get a drink at the club house between the front nine and the back nine we ordered some spring rolls. We were a little hungry and they make some of the best iced lemon tea I've had in Indonesia there at the club house so we decided to add a snack with it. Unfortunately, the usual wait time didn't happen and we had to drive off without our food. As we were finishing up on the 10th hole, here comes two cute young ladies from the clubhouse with our spring rolls and dipping sauce. I loved that soooo much. So we munched and drank our tea and golf carted over to the next hole.<br />
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But I do have to say sometimes the caddies are not as fun. My Arnold Palmer had a caddy two weeks ago who must have been going to broadcast school as he commented on every single shot honey pie made. Now, typically par golf would give you a score of 72 on a course. As beginners, we do not hit the ball 72 times. We are in the triple digit category. So, the potential was for over 100 comments to be made. I think about half way through the round, patients were getting a might thin and my duffer asked the caddy to not speak. The caddy interpreted this as it was OK to mumble these comments instead. It was an amusing situation. Sort of. It all worked out OK, but our Jim Nantz did not get above the standard amount you are expected to tip that day.<br />
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It will be interesting to see how we improve. I can honestly say, that most of the time I see improvement in myself. There are times that you wish for divine intervention to help you hit the ball. But we are enjoying it. And since we have played the same course a number of times in a row you get to observe things and even name holes.<br />
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We have the wildlife hole where we have seen a turtle, brightly colored frogs and a handsome rooster on the tee box. There is one hole that is next to a beautiful garden so you get to see what veggies are growing well and whT needs to be harvested. There are a couple of kampung holes so you have the opportunity to wing it into someone's living space.<br />
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The caddies have little sayings. If you get too far under the ball and it lifts way too high into the air they call it a garuda. A garuda is a mythical bird so it is an appropriate analogy. they shade their eyes with a hand placed firmly over their brow and say "Garuda." If you hit one into the trees and you hear it hitting and bouncing off things they say something about Kalimantan. Why? I do not know. Kalimantan is an Indonesian island and it is dense jungle with things like orangutans, rhinos and tigers living there. I do think there is a lot of wood production from there, unfortunately, so maybe that is it. But they laugh and so do you - sometimes.<br />
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We will continue to play and improve I hope. It will be the only time in my life where I will have a caddy lugging my bag around, teeing up the ball for me and giving me putting advice so I am enjoying that and it makes the learning experience pretty fun. <br />
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The views are quite lovely at many of the courses. There are beautiful flowers, palm trees and many time volcanoes with interesting cloud formations hanging on their flanks. On some holes you will hear music, some of it makes me feel like I am at the Renaissance Festival in Texas with the flutes and drums, children's laughter as they play, the call to prayers going, and cows and chickens making their appropriate sounds.<br />
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With all that entertainment, I don't mind being called Miss July. It seems a small price to pay for a day filled with sights and sounds and garudas and fun caddies.<br />
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As I tell my sweetie, "Swing with belief and putt with confidence."<br />
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<br /></div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3445262947681978559.post-27182271318271419002013-02-26T14:00:00.001+07:002013-02-26T14:08:08.765+07:00Too much discussion about the food<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
In true bule fashion, just when you think you are getting a handle on various words and phrases you find out that you don't know diddly squat. It is the nuances that get you in to situations that can be mildly amusing, especially to your staff, or potential not cool at all.<br />
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Today, I was trying to decide what to eat for lunch. Options were slim so I decided to fry an egg and make a fried egg sandwich. For some unknown reason, I could not get the gas burner to light on the range top. It would sputter and go out. I thought perhaps we were out of propane, as we use bottled propane instead of having a direct line in to the house.<br />
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My sweet little housekeeper came in and looked at it. She touched the piece that covers where the flame comes out and tried it again. Of course it lit and I felt like, "Wow! That sure was hard to figure out. What a ding-dong." But that is just how it goes sometimes.<br />
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She asked me what I was making and I said I was making a fried egg sandwich. She looked at me kind of weird and so I said in my best Bahasa Indonesia, "Sandwich telur goreng." Literal translation - sandwich egg fried. She continued to look at me and I then asked a few questions and then it came out that what I was making is called mata sapi. Literal translation - eye meat. Just have to add the word sandwich in there somewhere.<br />
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I sent a text message to my squeeze and told him about mata sapi. He replies, "Eye meat or eye cow or eye bull." It was an informative reply. Unfortunately, I then got in to trying to understand why it would be called that. A fried egg does look like an eye. And the sun is called mata hari (eye of the day). Would it be like an eye that you can eat like meat?<br />
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By this point the very much looked forward to fried eye, sorry - fried egg sandwich was not looking so appealing. I was hungry however, so I ate it anyway.<br />
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As I was typing this I thought about these translations and perhaps it isn't eye meat or eye cow but a bull's eye! Yes, by-George it looks like a bull's eye on a target. This made my stomach, and my brain, feel so much better about consuming a bull's eye sandwich.<br />
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Sometimes literal translations take some real thinking about. Sometimes they are funny. Sometimes they are rather poetic. Sometimes you have to scratch your head and really work at it. I am sure my literal conversions from English to Indonesian is quite strange and the staff go out of the line of sight and roll around on the ground laughing. After three years we are still amusing. I guess that is a good thing.<br />
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Bon appetit.</div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3445262947681978559.post-51185597134122152152013-02-21T15:53:00.002+07:002013-02-21T15:53:47.264+07:00Cool cats and learning to "becara seperti a Texan"<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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I am not sure if I have explored the subject of the cats here in Jakarta. If not, I will enlighten you. If so, maaf for repeating myself.<br />
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One extremely obvious thing we noticed when we first arrived here is that the vast majority of cats have very odd tails. Instead of being long and sleek or long and fluffy, they are shorter and mis-shapened. Sometimes they look like the number 7 or they look like a tail with a bulbous, knotty end. It sounds weird I am sure for those of you reading this and I can attest, it looks weird. <br />
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We have asked about it and people have speculated that the tails are broken by wayward motorcycles or scooters running over them. The mother cats are malnourished and it causes a deformity. There is a chromosome that causes them to be shaped that way. However, my favorite is when my sweetie pie asked our driver why the cats had tails like that and after a side-long look of the "What are you talking about pak?" persuasion, the answer was "Tidak apa-apa." Tidak apa-apa is one of those great phrases that we use a lot here. It's kind of like a "whatever" a "just the way it is" or "no worries, don't concern yourself."<br />
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We have gotten used to seeing the cats in this condition and adopted the tidak apa-apa stance until recently. At work one day, honey lamb and one of the young Indonesians he works with got to talking about cats. After sweetie asked him if he knew why the cats tails looked that way, this young man looked at him like he was out of his mind. This then spawned the question to sugar lips concerning what our cats look like. How could they be different? Aren't all cats' tails shaped like the ones here?<br />
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After a quick query on the Internet, our young friend was totally stunned that cats had tails that looked like what we are used to seeing in the US. He was practically speechless. He never imagined that the tail on a cat might look different. And with that said, I guess neither had I. So maybe the "What are you talking about pak?" look made much more sense. Never having been off the island of Java, our driver had never seen other cats. So to ask him why the tails are shaped that way was kind of like asking why the sky is blue. When that is all you see, that is all you know.<br />
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Along the line of expanding ones horizons and knowledge base, my main squeeze has been feeding new phrases to the woman who we use as a fitness trainer at the gym we belong to. What started it all was the word "calf." Not in reference to a baby bovine, but as in the large muscle on your lower leg. Just as we have a difficult time pronouncing certain letter combinations or rolling the letter r as they like to do here, the converse is true for Indonesians. The word calf would be pronounced totally different if we adhered to their alphabet. The "c" would have a ch sound. The "a" would most likely be an ah sound. The "lf" combo would probably sound like "lif" like lift. So our trainer tries to make it sound more American but it took a little bit to figure out what the word was she was saying to us. So sweet thing tried to teach her how to put flatter, harder sounds to it. She got close. He then began to teach her words like ya'll. While ya'll is actually a southern word and not a Texan word per say, it was just the kind of word she could really get a lot of mileage out of. Of course he had to explain that ya'll can be singular and plural as in "all ya'll. I am not so sure he has not taught her "yee haw" and "dang-it." So by the time we leave, our dear trainer will "becara seperti a Texan." (speak like a Texan). I do have a feeling that since he has started these impromptu lessons that she has up the abuse level on our training sessions. Maybe he should go back to trying to speak only Indonesian to her and she will not be making me do so many abdominal exercises that I cramp up into a little ball.<br />
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<br /></div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3445262947681978559.post-84081684101853263372013-02-21T15:45:00.000+07:002013-02-21T15:47:15.188+07:003 years on the other side of the world<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Sweetums and I passed our 36 month mark as expats at the end of January. Why is this significant? Well, you start to understand it is truly the little things in life that make it grand. That even though you have gray hair and have to wear bifocals to see, there is so much stuff still to see and do. Perspectives change. What may look easy, isn't always. A life that is difficult doesn't mean that it isn't joyful. Home is where the love is.<br />
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So, with all of that said, here is what is running through my brain as I ponder the last 36+ months.<br />
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1. Our assignment was for 36 months, but as you might have guessed, we are still here.<br />
2. It feels like home when I return.<br />
3. We have filled out so many arrival/departure documents, visa forms, and purchased enough airline tickets for international travel, etc that we have memorized our passport numbers and all of the important stuff to go with it.<br />
4. I still love hearing "Welcome home." at US immigration.<br />
5. I still miss driving myself places.<br />
6. Conversely, I do love having someone pick me up at the airport after a 30 hour transit and I can't figure out what day it is.<br />
7. You think that a 12 to 14 hour flight is a piece of cake.<br />
8. I still love bajajs.<br />
9. I still get homesick.<br />
10. I love my friends here.<br />
11. I love my friends at home.<br />
12. I love that some of the friends here have become friends at home.<br />
13. I love that our son has had the opportunity to come and share part of this life with us and see so many things that he would never have seen otherwise.<br />
14. I appreciate that folks have really gotten tired of hearing about what it is like to live here.<br />
15. I appreciate the fact that it is very hard to explain what it is like to live here.<br />
16. We are still a very, very long way from home and that is difficult to deal with sometimes.<br />
17. I really do like freshly pressed clothing and sheets.<br />
18. Personal space is a variable, not a constant.<br />
19. What may have frightened you so much to begin with isn't so scary after a while.<br />
20. Some folks are much bigger thrill seekers than sweetie and I are and that is okie dokie.<br />
21. I still don't understand a whole lot of things.<br />
22. People who text and<strike> walk</strike> wander are a major pain in the behind. <br />
23. There are still scary, horrible, heart-wrenching things that you see too frequently in many places in the world.<br />
24. There are very sweet and kind people everywhere.<br />
25. There are some not so sweet and kind people everywhere. <br />
26. What an experience this has been to a place I quite honestly had to look up on a map to see exactly where it is.<br />
27. I really dislike the distance I have to travel to get home (which ever home that might be).<br />
28. You can only watch so many movies on an airplane before you faint in little snippets without realizing it and then are so befuddled as to why the movies are not making any sense what-so-ever that you have to watch it again.<br />
29. The last 6 hours of the endurance test called flying home are enough to make you want to either scream, cry, or run up and down the aisles. All of which will cause even more delays when you land.<br />
30. I am blessed. <br />
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<br /></div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3445262947681978559.post-85815693894417817212012-10-05T12:50:00.002+07:002013-02-21T15:08:46.342+07:00observations worth noting<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<b>As I was going through my posts for this blog, I came across a variety of unpublished posts that I held off publishing for one reason or the other. This one really stood out after I re-read it. I wrote this about four to six weeks after arriving here. Much of it is still applicable because some of it continues to be a wonder and discomfort to me. I will comment at the end.</b><br />
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Life in Jakarta brings both wonderful and not so wonderful sights and experiences to this newcomer. Just like in any large city, there are so many levels of experience that it just boggles the mind. I would like to share a few of these observations and spectacles with you now. I will give you a little heads up at this point. This is a departure from my normally cheerful posts. It is another part of Jakarta that I have witnessed. So if you are looking for fun in the sun, it is partly cloudy in this particular post.
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One thing mentioned early on, and frequently, has been the temperature. I am acclimating somewhat, but the stillness of the air in stores still kind of gets to me. It isn't every single store. But sometimes when you go in to buy something you just feel like you can't get a breath of fresh air. Indonesian's don't really like wind blowing on them and so many times, the stores don't seem to have any kind of air system blowing a molecule of air. I am sure that isn't really the case. Air is circulating somehow, but it feels so close and stuffy one would never know it. It seems especially true when I go to a Guardian or Century store. Guardian and Century would be the equivalent to Walgreens or CVS. Most of the time when you go to one of these stores it is because you may not be feeling at the top of your game. Stuffy air is kind of the last thing you want to experience. Typically, by the time I get what I need, my face glistens and I can't wait to find the door. The lights seem extra bright in these stores as well, so it adds to the closeness of it all. The pharmacist at one of these particular stores is very nice and very knowledgeable and she speaks enough English that we can usually understand each other. I try to go to that specific location if I can.
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However, last week I was on the search for Pepto Bismol and here's where I had a little trouble. With the mention of Pepto Bismol, you know that tummy troubles are the topic. We won't go into detail. Anyway, I wound up at a different mall with a different pharmacist then the one mentioned above. I tried to explain my situation, pointing to my stomach saying I didn't feel well. They looked at me. I then said I was trying to find Pepto Bismol. Hmmm. Words appeared to be bouncing off their faces. Then I said medicine with bismuth in it. Major staring now ensued. I tried saying pink liquid and pointing to the spiffy little outfits that they all wear in the store (FYI-Indonesians seem to really love the color pink)so that might give them a clue. The pharmacist's face brightened and she said "Inpepsa" and goes to the back and produces a box with a bottle inside. She opens the box and pulls out a bottle of rather thin looking pink liquid. Well, this was as close as I was going to get apparently so I payed my 200,000 rupiahs (a little over $20.00) and decide to go back to the hotel and see exactly what I had purchased. I know you are thinking the price tag should have been a big clue. I will touch on the costs of goods here in another post, so FYI cost is not always overly telling. However, after doing a little Internet research on this pink liquid I discovered that I had just purchased medicine for peptic ulcers. Close, but not exactly what I was looking for. It seems that Pepto Bismol is not sold here. The closest thing I can get is Mylanta. Close, but still not doing it. When I return home for a visit, in the near future, you can bet your bottom dollar that I will have multiple bottles of pink liquid in my suitcase for the return trip to my new home.
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The point of all of this is that you can go to a pharmacy or apotek here and buy many kinds of medicine over the counter that you would need a prescription for back home. It can be a handy system if you 1. Don't try to self diagnose too much or for anything unusual. 2. Don't take ANYTHING without looking it up first. 3. Be careful when you try to describe what medicine looked like back home - even if it is pink.
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Relating to the heat, people here seem to have a totally different thermostat setting than I do. Many days the temperature hovers around the low 90's or upper 80's. In the US that would mean the wearing of light weight clothing, short sleeves, at the very least, and maybe even shorts. Here, it is not unusual to people all bundled up with heavy jackets. Frequently, you will see a baby wearing a knit hat, quilted jacket with a hood pulled up; wedged in between parents on a motorcycle. My son would have had a heat stroke if I had done that. For me wearing capri pants, sandals, a short sleeve or 3/4 length sleeve shirt still leaves me fanning myself. I guess I need more than 8 weeks to feel like I need long pants, long sleeved shirt and a jacket when the temperature dips below 89.
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Speaking of children, I have seen very cute children in extremely dangerous situations. As mentioned above, many people will have their babies or small children riding with them on a motorcycle. Most of the time, the grown ups have helmets. This makes them a lot smarter than a number of Texans who love to ride and feel the wind in their hair. However, most of the children on the motorcycles do not have helmets. In fact, most of the time you will see families of four on a bike. Mom on the back, baby stuffed between she and the dad who is driving, and then a two or three year old standing in front of him holding on to the handle bars with such tiny fingers. Sometimes the child is so short that they are standing on tip toes in order to see over the motorcycle handle bars. No one is holding on to the child as the driver needs both hands to operate the bike. Other times you will see a dad driving with two or three small children in school uniforms clinging to one another as they are driven to and from school. Today, I saw a very cute little girl on a motorcycle with her dad and mom. She was standing in front of her dad. Her hair was pinned up on each side of her face with cute little bows. On her face was a pair of red, child-sized sunglasses. Once you got past the absolutely adorable, you started to think about her precarious position.
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Actually, even more horrifying than that are the children who wander the sides of the very busy streets tapping on the side window of your car wanting whatever money you will give them. On my way back from the Pepto Bismol quest I saw a little girl who was maybe three or four walking all alone next to a very long line of motorcycles stopped at a stop light at a major intersection. She had a small rag in her hand and she would half-heartedly wipe the front fender of the motorcycle and look up at the driver to see if they were going to offer here a coin. If not, she would move on to the next one. She proceeded this way down the line of motorcycles until the light changed. They zoomed off and she stood there in the street, all alone, waiting for the next group of vehicles to stop. I still have that scene in my head.
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On a lighter note, today I witnessed a forklift being driven down a major thoroughfare. The man drove it along in front of us for a while and then we eventually wound up beside it. I thought maybe the forks were not attached to the front. Wrong. Sure enough, once beside it, there were the long forks sticking out as it merrily rolled along. Seemed like all kinds of accidents waiting to happen. But the traffic and how it functions here are massively different. There is no way that the traffic anywhere I have ever driven in the US could function within the same "guidelines" that are used here. It is pretty remarkable and I am impressed by how it works every single day.
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Seems like my list is heavy on traffic concerns. It is such a major part of life in Jakarta that my concentration on it would make a lot of sense to you if you were here. I love how some woman ride side saddle on the backs of motorcycles. Sometimes they have on very high heel shoes and have there little feet poking out just so. It is funny to see them holding their purses so lady-like on their laps and not holding on to anything else as the motorcycle on which they are a passenger, weaves in and out of traffic. Sometimes they are talking on their cell phones as they zoom along. The age range is broad. Some are young women in flip flops or sandals. Some are more mature ladies sitting up so proper with feet crossed at the ankles. You see head scarves on many of the riders and sometimes helmets. They have a kind of motorcycle taxi here called an ojek. Don't know how much it is to hire an ojek, but you see their stands all over. Usually, there is a small sign attached to a tree or pole and a big clump of motorcycles waiting to be hired so you know you are at the right place. Apparently, some of the drivers will let you wear a spare helmet, maybe for an extra fee perhaps. This would pose quite a dilemma for most US citizens. Go helmetless or put on a helmet that countless heads have worn. Head lice is a very real possibility. Since I would not get on an ojek, I am blessed not to be faced with that particular choice.
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Some of what I wrote, and a lot of what I didn't write, is difficult to imagine or at least was before I got here. However, Indonesians are an interesting, kind, and sociable group of people. To be in such a large city (the sixth most crowded metropolis after Tokyo, Seoul, Mexico City, New York and Mumbai)people always greet you, smile at you, feel sorry for you if you are eating lunch by yourself, will crowd your hospital room with visitors so you won't feel lonely, adore children and love to spoil them, and may not always get it right but will certainly try as hard as possible to please you. They love it when you make small talk and make eye contact. I am finding I bow a lot these days and greet people more openly. I am glad I have learned to do this.
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Yes, there are a lot of things that I talked about that sound as if I am talking about two different cities. The graciousness and warmth vs the harshness and cruelness of reality for many. That is what makes it complicated and fascinating all at the same time. <br />
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<b>Here are my follow up comments about two and a half years after I wrote this. </b><br />
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Tummy troubles are a part of life here. I was having lunch with a friend the other day and at a table behind her was a guy opening a box of Norit. Poor guy. Norit is activated charcoal. It can be used to help absorb nasty things you might ingest. They are small black pellets in a yellow tube. I carry them in my purse along with Imodium and Pepto Bismol tablets. The down side to Norit is that because of their small size you have to literally take a handful with a lot of water to get relief. You also have to be mindful of the fact that if you take them too close to any medications that you take it will absorb that as well. But it works great and they can really save you. But I do bring back Imodium and Pepto every time I return to the states. It is a necessity and they still do not sell it here.<br />
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Traffic continues to be something that everyone talks about. Jakarta is a growing city and public transportation is a problem. With the growing middle class, many are turning to scooters and motorcycles as a great, inexpensive way to get around. Unfortunately, you cannot imagine what it is like to turn on to a major street and there are motorcycles and scooters almost solid across both sides of the road coming at you. Over the last few months I have noticed a few changes in the driving habits. They do not think anything about being on the wrong side of the road and they will challenge you head-on without any hesitation. There are many mornings we are forced to get as far to the left as possible or even stop so we don't collide. Unfortunately, if you stop more and more of them pour in to your lane and you cannot proceed. We just flat out have too many vehicles and not enough road.<br />
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I have gotten fairly used to seeing small children on motorcycles. It still concerns me to see them begging on the sides of the roads and wandering in and out of traffic. I also am concerned about the exhaust they are inhaling and riding with no helmets or even sun glasses to protect their eyes from dust and road debris. But I understand that this is many times the only option they have to get to work or school or the doctor.<br />
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Yes, I still feel that it is a city of massive contrasts. I am learning more and more of them as I live here. I still love the greetings and their politeness even if sometimes I know it is all a facade. There is still much to learn and much to attempt to understand. It is an impossible task to do so in such a short span of time.</div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3445262947681978559.post-31114865484348593252012-10-05T10:38:00.000+07:002012-10-05T10:38:19.995+07:00Now serving ticket number 42<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
One of the things that seems to be a popular activity here is to demonstrate. Every day of the week there is some kind of demonstration going on in the city. Partly because we live in the capital of the country I guess it is a hot-bed of public protest activity.<br />
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It seems to be the sentiment of the world these days to protest and demonstrate. It gets lots of press and helps to get people's messages out. Apparently all over the world it is growing in popularity again. However, maybe here it is so popular because this is a fairly new democracy and they are still working to get their ducks in a row. Whatever the reason, I find it rather interesting and yes sometimes very unnerving.<br />
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Each day, my honey pie gets a security notice. On this notice is a list of the times, locations, what group is protesting, and how many guests they are expecting. What really caught my eye was that they had times assigned to each group.<br />
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Since I seem to be really good at connecting point A to point K this was the scenario running through my head about how this time schedule comes to be:<br />
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<b>Office of Protest Permit Applications (OPPA)</b> - "Selamat sore Ibu/Pak. How can I help you?"<br />
<b>Protest Organizer (PO)</b> - "Well I would like to hold a demonstration next Wednesday. What times do you have available?"<br />
<b>OPPA</b>- "Let's see. Wednesdays are popular days so maybe you would like to do a Monday or a Tuesday?"<br />
<b>PO</b> - "No. We need next Wednesday as that is when we have the bus arranged to bring all of our guests in from out of town to march around, throw rocks and beat-up on cars parked close by."<br />
<b>OPPA</b> - "Oh, you are so organized! Let's see what we have." Between 8 and 9 the Glorious Group against Koruption are marching at the House of Representatives. Between 9 and 10 The Righteous Because we are Righteous group is marching at the Presidential Palace. 10 to 11 the We are Tired of Working for Peanuts group of monkey street performers are marching at various heavily traveled intersections. So if you want to go between 11 and 12 we have a slot."<br />
<b>PO</b> -"Hmmm. That won't work because we will be handing out the box lunches we are providing our marchers at that time. What do you have in the early afternoon?"<br />
<b>OPPA</b> - "Looks like we could squeeze you in between 2 and 3. Does that work for you?"<br />
<b>PO</b> - "Excellent. We will take it!"<br />
<b>OPPA</b> - "Very good. Here is the form you need to fill out. Please let us know the name of your group, what your general beef is that you would like to be known for, how many guests you are expecting to march around with you, and of course the area you are requesting. Also there is a form on the table over there for a great place to have your protest tee shirts printed if you need help with that."<br />
<b>PO</b> - "Looks pretty simple. How long is the turn-around on the tee shirts?"<br />
<b>OPPA</b> - "With the time frame you are requesting, it is going to be close. We usually request 10 days as they sent out to a neighboring country who will work cheaper and do even cheaper knock-offs than we do. But a friend of mine who does great Gucci knock-offs can do them for you in about three days, but you will pay more for them."<br />
<b>PO</b> - "Guess we will have to go local and just pay our guests less in assistance fees for their time to come join in the protest."<br />
<b>OPPA</b> - "Fill out the form and return it to me. Thank you for visiting our office and have a nice protest."<br />
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3445262947681978559.post-12033423535386146972012-10-02T16:36:00.000+07:002012-10-02T16:36:01.231+07:00These are a few of my favorite things<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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Honey pie and I are slowly creeping up on the three year mark of living in a foreign land. In four months we will have spent the majority of our lives in a place that can be fascinating, frustrating, frantic, full of color, friendly, and yes at times frightening.<br />
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With that in mind, I will mention some of the things that I still find amusing, endearing, and bring a smile to my lips after all this time.<br />
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This afternoon as I went by taxi to meet a friend for lunch, I saw a big ole smokin' Kopaja bus sitting on a hill at a stop light. Now the smokin' part is not what amuses me. It is the fact that the guy who is the collector of fares for people getting on the bus has another important job. His other job is apparently to act as the chock man when the bus has to stop at a light on an incline. When the bus comes to a stop on the hill, he steps off with a piece of wood, a brick, or a good size chunk of stone and stuffs it behind the rear wheel. This saves the driver from having to sit with his foot on the break, most likely helps them last longer. It also helps assure the other vehicles behind him that he won't roll back on top of them. When the light changes, he steps out once again and as the bus rolls forward, he retrieves the chock and they motor on. I smile each time I see this. I don't really know why, but I do.<br />
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My jagas, the guards at our house for those of you who haven't been keeping up with my blog based language lessons, always make me smile. I love when I come out first thing in the morning and I say pagi and call them by name. They always say "Pagi bu." It is such a sweet thing to me. And as I pull away I always wave and they wave back. It seems silly, but I really do love that little exchange. I think of them like my "adopted sons" or at least my "adopted kid brothers." They help me park my scoopy when I return from a little drive. I have yet to figure out how to get the bigger kick-stand down on the back of the bike so I just leave it to them to do. When I leave to go on a ride, they always open the gate, check for traffic and send me off with a hati-hati (careful). I know they mean it and I find it touching.<br />
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The amusement the locals find in sweetie and I at some of the things we do. It isn't a malicious kind of amusement. It is usually a fascination that we are trying to somehow fit in someway. I enjoy that, most of the time, that they notice or even appreciate what we are trying to do. I am not sure they think of it in the same terms as I do, but it still makes me smile.<br />
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The kaki limas, the food carts on the side of the streets, are endlessly fascinating to me. From the way they push the carts along through the neighborhood and knock on a piece of bamboo, tap on a glass, or call out like the peanut guy at a baseball game. It is all done to make their presence known. I love it. Sometimes late at night if I can't sleep I hear them moving through the neighborhood. It is comforting knowing that I am not alone at that late hour. Someone else is up and engaged in some activity. I would probably never eat from one of the carts as I have seen how they wash their dishes. But I still love them. I am amazed that they can whip up a bowl of soup with all the trimmings, fry little cakes, cook yummy smelling food in a wok, have drinks that they dip out of large plastic containers which have tapioca balls floating around in them, fry up battered bananas for a delicious smelling snack or are carefully arranging cut up fresh fruit so artfully in their little portable restaurants they make you want to run over to the cart and buy what ever it is they are selling.<br />
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And then there is the lowly but adorable bajaj. Cutest thing on three wheels for sure.<br />
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It is part of my life and part of my memory. It is something that I will never forget.<br />
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3445262947681978559.post-88914706580269203162012-09-14T12:13:00.036+07:002012-09-20T01:41:53.092+07:00An affair most fowl<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdaaA7OwlGIlAk4p7Jm74kgfNQd2tGS5xA8fRYmbEU2nFAL0EuxiN7sf53UZWeUYBcYFe4qr6qJ2K8e18hD6stx6YOXCZMm8yk7YKZzkvllxbFI5SGYQUn-4axmRHDCt70Euiboru-cwPI/s1600/_JLH0697.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 256px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdaaA7OwlGIlAk4p7Jm74kgfNQd2tGS5xA8fRYmbEU2nFAL0EuxiN7sf53UZWeUYBcYFe4qr6qJ2K8e18hD6stx6YOXCZMm8yk7YKZzkvllxbFI5SGYQUn-4axmRHDCt70Euiboru-cwPI/s320/_JLH0697.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5787947892071263586" /></a><br /><br />Upon our return to Indonesia, honey lips and I had a ball to attend a few weeks after touch-down. Yes. You read that right. A ball. There are many women's organizations which do a variety of things to raise money for their social welfare programs. These ladies, and gentlemen, work hard to raise cash to provide everything from free cataract surgery for people in need, pediatric walkers for those who have no access to such things, toothbrushes and toothpaste and instructions on how to use them, to medical supplies and school supplies. These groups hold bazaars, bar-b-ques, and in this case a ball all in the name of funding programs that help the local population. <br /><br />ANZA is the women's association for Australian-New Zealand. Each year they put on a huge ball with a different theme. This year, those wild and crazy folks from down-under picked a very raucous theme based on the movie "Priscilla - Queen of the Desert." If you have never seen this movie, it is basically the Aussie equivalent of "Rocky Horror Picture Show." It is an over the top flick but made for a very fun theme to assemble attire for.<br /><br />While in the US, I looked for a ball gown to use for the affair. Being off-season, I was able to buy something appropriate, yet inexpensive. The AWA (American Women's Association) thought it would be fun to make things patriotic. So its members were encouraged to dress in red, white, and blue or some combination of our proud colors.<br /><br />With that in mind, I bought a lovely blue gown with lots of sparkles and rhinestone accents. I had full length white gloves on order in Jakarta, so I purchased great looking high heel shoes with rhinestones, and long false eyelashes from Walgreen's while I was state side. This was my foundation to build from.<br /><br />Sweetie pie on the other hand, took this as an opportunity to have a custom-made tuxedo crafted to wear to the ball. Since tailoring is very reasonable here, he had a beautiful tuxedo made for a great price. He selected the fabric for the tux, chose the lining of the jacket, had a tuxedo shirt made and even a cumber bun, matching bow tie and pocket hankie. After looking through photos he decided on a style and then they took all his measurements. Less than a week later they had the tux put together and were ready for his first fitting. Adjustments were made and a week later we had a custom-made tux hanging in the closet. Truly amazing to me that all that can happen so quickly in a place where grid-lock and sllloooowww traffic is the norm. Oh! And the real clincher is that his name is embroidered on the inside of the jacket and the inside of his slacks. WOW!<br /><br />Once back in the land of mega malls, mega traffic and mega motor cycles, I re-joined with my best partner-in-crime, we hit the mean streets to find bling to go with our outfits as well as some bling to share with some of the other attendees. We ventured to a place called Manga Dua. It is a massive market. Multiple buildings, each maybe five or six stories tall. They sell everything from electronics to knock-off purses. Shoes to wigs and everything in between. We headed for the building that houses beads, buttons, jewelry, feather boas, wigs, assorted clothing and goodness only knows what else. HOLY COW! What a day we had.<br /><br />On our list were feather boas in patriotic colors, tiaras to really top things off, jewels to accessorize, and wigs if possible. My friend and I had not been to this part of Manga Dua so we wandered around and went up multiple levels and down. First thing we saw were wigs. We decided to rule them out as we were afraid it would be really hot wearing a wig. So we began to search for boas. We found some at different stalls and examined them. While the colors were good, the feel of these boas creeped me out big time. The feathers used were very course and it felt way too much like you were wearing a chicken. Visions of a plucked fowl just kept entering my mind. We kept searching, but they were all the same. It then became a matter of how much we needed the boas for accent and visual appeal. With those things in mind, we bought numerous boas in red, white and blue and just had to endure.<br /><br />We had previously purchased some feather fans in our national colors. The fans had the same issue as the boas. The white fans really looked chicken-like. But as the feathers were attached to plastic handles you didn't really have to have a lot of contact with them. But the fans and the boas really looked great together - in a plucked chicken kind of way.<br /><br />My buddy and I next went in search of tiaras. What a treasure trove we found!! At one shop we visited there were all kinds of tiaras, hair ornaments, and combs for your hair. All encrusted with mega rhinestones. We bought multiple tiaras and hair combs of all sizes. I then spied stunning hair ornaments that I just could not pass up. Two lovely rhinestone stars attached to hair combs. They were joined together by three strands of rhinestones. I knew I was going to wear my hear up and I had plans for these beauties. Hair up. Combs on either side of a bun. Strands of rhinestones draping across the back of the bun. My eyes glazed over with that vision of loveliness.<br /><br />The week before the event, I went to the hair dresser to see if they could help me figure out how to do my hair. I gave a very open ended idea of what I wanted. My hair jewels and combs created a stir at the salon. Multiple people crowded around to see what I had. Lots of squealing, giggling and handing my treasures back and forth took place and all were in agreement, we had done "good." So with hair adornments sitting on the ledge , hair pens, curling iron, and hairspray at our finger tips. We began.<br /><br />At the beginning she teased my hair and used the curling iron and hairspray to sculpt it in to her interpretation of what I asked for. Unfortunately, I came out looking a bit like the queen. Sweetums said all I needed were a couple of corgies, a hat, a purse and the "wave" to complete the look. The owner of the shop intervened and changed it up a bit and with the addition of all of the hair bling it looked pretty good. So, one hour and one can of hairspray later, we were somewhat prepared for the final style the day of the ball.<br /><br />I walked out to the car and my driver could hardly keep from laughing. Yes. This was not the ibu who had gone in an hour earlier. Now what really made this a bit difficult was that I needed to go to the grocery and had told him we would go to the salon then to the store. My expectation had been my stylist would put my hair up and then make it look normal again. Silly me. To me it was perfectly obvious that I could not parade around the store in my current "get-up" so I told him we will just go home. Unfortunately, if you tell your driver that you want to do things in a certain order, they feel ever so obligated to stick with that plan. We leave the salon and I look down at my phone to check for any missed messages that might have come in while I was getting beautified. I look up and OH MY GOODNESS he is trying to turn in to the grocery parking lot. I am panicking and saying "Oh no. Oh no. I can't go in looking like this." Sometimes men just don't get it. Needless to say, we don't go through the gate and we have to make this very complicated move to get back across the road and going down the street that leads in to our neighborhood.<br /><br />Upon my return home, my housekeeper, my gardener and the jaga all greet me. My housekeeper is giggling. I can only interpret it as that it is so out of character for me to have all this junk on and in my hair that she finds it "cute." I also give her money and tell her what I would like her to buy. Seems only just since she had such a good giggle. I leave it all in place and when honey pie comes home we eat dinner with me decked out. It was a regal affair.<br /><br />During the time between the dry run of my hair do and the night of the ball. My friend found great false eyelashes at one of the department stores. I went over and checked it out. I already had ultra-high quality lashes from Walgreen's, but a girl never knows. Sure enough I found a pair that I just had to have. These were not just regular eyelashes, they had rhinestones on them. How could I not get them?<br /><br />The day of the ball, I had a 10 AM hair appointment. This meant that I had to wear this style all day. By 11 AM I was all teased-up, curled, sprayed, rhinestone encrusted and ready for the night. Some of us had rented rooms at the hotel where the ball would be held. So, my buddies and I met at the hotel around 3:30 and began getting all decked out.<br /><br />For those of you who know me, you know I don't wear a lot of makeup. So here I am with not one, but two set of false eyelashes to apply plus all the other appropriate makeup to apply to help me look stunning. Thank goodness my friends are much more accomplished at this kind of thing than I. Otherwise it would have been a very grim situation.<br /><br />So we sat on the floor of the hotel room with makeup, eyelashes, glue and mirrors scattered around. After a glass of wine and discovering that one member of the group was the world's best false eyelash applier we were ready to rock and roll. With a steady hand and a lot of glue, my double lashes were stuck to my eyelids. We each took turns getting our lashes on and then we had to do eyeshadow and eyeliner. After being told I was not putting my makeup on heavy enough for this kind of affair, I kept adding layer after layer. I finally passed inspection and we moved on to the next phase.<br /><br />In the middle of all of this transformation, sugar pie came in from a long week at work and joined in the festivities. It was three girls and one guy and the girls all voted to use one set of extra false eyelashes we had along with eyeshadow to dress up sugar pie. What was a guy to do? We were like little girls dressing up their kid brother with our play clothes. What an amazingly patient person my sweetie is. We glued lashes and applied eyeshadow, to match his tuxedo of course, put styling product in his hair to make it stand on end, as if that weren't happening already. At the end of all of this fun, he looked great. In fact, it is a bit distressing when your honey looks better in eye makeup than you do! But it was all in fun and went with the theme of the ball. We also knew he would only be one of many, many men who would be outfitted for the affair. In fact, he would look practically tame compared to what we had heard some of the guys were going to wear.<br /><br />Once the makeup was finished, my friends departed for their respective rooms so we could all don our attire for the big shin-dig. We agreed to meet back in our room for a glass of champagne to kick the evening off. At the designated time couples began to arrive. Of course we all looked absolutely stunning. We managed to talk another of my compadres' husband in to claiming the last pair of eyelashes we had and we dolled him up too. His outfit was topped off by a great looking do-rag with small American flags on it. We added a red bow tie. He looked simply smashing! We also had to give her the last red feather boa, tiara and ring we had bought for her. The boa had to be fluffed up a bit. Thankfully, we knew what would happen so we told her to take it in to the bathroom and shake it really hard over the bathtub. There were red feathers all over the place when she was done. It looked like we had some kind of fowl massacre in there. The poor housekeeping people. Maaf.<br /><br />Now all of this sounds a bit bizarre, but in light of the theme it really wasn't. There were guys in all kinds of wigs, dresses, boots or really large size high heel shoes dancing the night away. My question is where in the world did they get their shoes? My feet are not out of proportion to my height and I have trouble finding things here that are my size and my feet were definitely smaller than theirs. I must be shopping in all the wrong places.<br /><br /><br />By the end of the night we were exhausted from all the dancing. I had only one rhinestone eyelash malfunction. We had seen some great outfits, We had helped raise a good size chunk of money for a very deserving charity. We had an amazing time with our friends and we all had great fun being ever so silly.<br /><br />As far as my boa is concerned. I deposited it in the trash can in our hotel room at the end of the night. It had its revenge however. I looked at my white gloves as I was changing out of my formal wear and there was red dye from my boa on them. The good news is that just like it came off on my gloves, it washed off my gloves as well. Guess chicken feathers don't hold dye very well.<br /><br />We have been left with some great memories. Some great photographs. Stellar hair ornaments. Fabulous new tuxedo and gown and anticipation of what ANZA will do to top this next year.<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3445262947681978559.post-74152893341429054102012-08-27T11:56:00.044+07:002012-08-27T20:08:54.500+07:00Is it jet lag or do I hear Christmas music?Honey bun and I just returned from a trip to the US. As expected, August was hot in the southern US. Between Texas heat, South Carolina heat and humidity, and a less than 24 hours respite from the temperatures in North Carolina, we were cookin'! It was hard to imagine that it was as hot, and many times even hotter, than life here six degrees below the equator.<br /><br />We have returned from the steam cleaning to the land of sambal, soto ayam, smoking bajajs and six million+ registered motorcycles. The timing of our trip returned us to a post-Ramadan Jakarta. The traffic was blissfully light from Wednesday to Sunday. This morning it was back to the regular running of the motorized gauntlet. It was nice while it lasted.<br /><br />On Sunday, sweetums and I took my adorable little Scoopy and the macho Ninja machine out for breakfast. Post breakfast, we ventured to the grocery store. As I was pushing the grocery cart around, I heard a pop Christmas tune playing. At first I thought it was a fluke or that my jet lag was making me misinterpret the song I was hearing. But at check out, they were playing another Christmas song. Holy cow!! It is not even the end of August and we have jumped to Christmas music in this far-away land. I thought only the ever free-enterprising US jumped from summer to Christmas that fast. I think this has to be a world record.<br /><br />Speaking of world records. Upon our return, we had mail awaiting us at honey buns office. I may have mentioned that sometimes we go weeks with no mail. It is a bit disturbing when you know there should be at least one or two pieces a week coming our way. Nestled in the small stack of waiting mail was a bill that was post-marked in early March 2012. Now before you blame the USPS, understand that our mail is sent to a company PO Box. From there, people are supposed to forward it, via a mail pouch with a private carrier, to us here in Indonesia. I don't know which, or how many, expat locations this bill got forwarded to and how many times it got sent back to Houston, but a six month trip could cover an awful lot of territory. Just sayin'<br /><br />I am discovering that jet lag is still a massive issue for me. I have looked high and low for some kind of remedy to make it less painful. None are to be found. Well, I did come across one cure that I am considering. When you type in "Jet Lag cures" on your computer, you will find "The Spiral of Tranquility Pendant." This impressive piece of jewelry will supposedly re-align all the things that get out of alignment when you make these kinds of long journeys. For a reasonable price, plus shipping and handling, you can purchase this pendant, fly all over the world, land, and never feel a thing while it graces your neck. I am seriously considering buying two.<br /><br />One piece of info that I gathered said that you should expect one day per time zone to return to your "normal" state of sleeping and other bodily functions. If that is the case, that means I need 12 days. EEEKKK!!! <br /><br />The day of arrival to my location I am usually doing pretty well. The second day, is not too bad but certainly not "normal." The third day is when you hit the wall. With that said, I wonder if it is kind of like asking someone who has had "Tee many martunis" to self-evaluate their ability to make sense when they speak. I think I do pretty well the first two days but perhaps my friends and family are way too polite to tell me I sound like an idiot.<br /><br />Whatever the case, that jet lag hole is deep. You shovel hard for three or four days, after that third day, to gain ground. I also find that it is much harder going one direction than the other. Also dealing with the longer amounts of daylight during the summer months in the US vs. the "It's always a 12 hour day" here so close to the equator makes it hard to judge when it is time for dinner and bed time. <br /><br />I had hoped I would get better at it. Sadly enough, I am not.<br /><br />On this trip we had the added pleasure of flying on our wedding anniversary. To mark the occasion, we had a lunch of chicken strips and Texas toast at a What-A-Burger before leaving for the airport. Yeehaw! Don't get me wrong. I love WAB's chicken strips and peppery gravy. However, once on board, later that evening, we had a glass of champagne to mark numerous years of being a Mr. and Mrs. I must mention that since we knew we would be in transit on the actual day, we had a lovely dinner out with much more suitable anniversary chow. Yummy crab cakes and other delectable foods were consumed in a place where they don't walk around with a tray bearing ketchup in small packets and take a number off your table and give you a box of food.<br /><br />Since this post is partly about jet lag, let me make a few recommendations to you. If you are making long journeys across multiple time zones, drink plenty of water. Yes, it is inconvenient to have to make multiple visits to the airplane toilet, but you need to stay hydrated. Carry a small bottle of saline nasal spray in your little zipper bag of the "show me your liquids" persuasion. Use it regularly during the flight. Bloody noses are not fun. Sleep when you can. Yes, if you are lucky enough to have a daytime flight and you land early evening this doesn't apply. But my flights almost always begin at night and land in the middle of the night way past time when it should be the middle of the night. Then the next leg takes off at stupid o'clock and lands late afternoon at my final destination. By that point, you are so messed up time wise you realize how important it is to try to accumulate some snooze time whenever you can. Unfortunately, for some of us who are rotten sleepers on the plane, if you can get five or six hours of sleep during 30 hours of transit you feel lucky. Eat lightly on the plane. You'll feel better for it. Trying to digest a heavy meal at 35,000 feet is not overly successful.<br /><br />Here I am giving this advice, which I do follow, and I still suffer greatly. But I do think it helps with some of the long distance travel issues. I envy the people who seem to be able to conch out as soon as the plane takes off, never have to go to the bathroom during transit, and upon arrival can plow through the jet lag. Mine is just never that pretty. The only up side is that I do get to catch up on lots of movies I have missed or re-watch movies I have enjoyed in the past.<br /><br />Fortunately, our circadian rhythms will slowly re-adjust and we will be back on Indonesian time. Unfortunately, sweetie and I will just be confused as to what month it is as we listen to Christmas music while buying our mangoes. <br /><br /> <br /><br /><br /> <br /><br /> <br /><br /> Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3445262947681978559.post-48560306989543286362012-07-19T17:59:00.024+07:002012-07-21T20:58:17.154+07:00Going to Amerika for Happy Birthday<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1ZqsacbocAJAjwq66f5ed5ERs_5SSKem11QlbSymBWsScKHT9H-qKKJlT-WbqE_rCMv58NJUjbjW7IwxDhhjnfBVouxcMTgSkldjQfjS0yEimkcy7gCl2ewgAofF2XqTtvdbQm-VMwe4W/s1600/Chrysanthemum.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1ZqsacbocAJAjwq66f5ed5ERs_5SSKem11QlbSymBWsScKHT9H-qKKJlT-WbqE_rCMv58NJUjbjW7IwxDhhjnfBVouxcMTgSkldjQfjS0yEimkcy7gCl2ewgAofF2XqTtvdbQm-VMwe4W/s320/Chrysanthemum.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5766865841555414066" /></a><br />This week, I told my housekeeper about the upcoming trip sweetie pie and I are planning to our homeland. I told her part of the reason we were going is because my honey's mother is celebrating her 90th birthday!<br /><br />Her eyes lit-up and she clapped her hands and said "Going to Amerika for Happy Birthday?" She thought it was absolutely delightful that we are going to celebrate a birthday with my mother-in-law. She got even more excited when I told her that she is turning 90. I then got the story of how her father, who lives in Jojakarta located in central Java, is 88 and calls her frequently asking her to come and visit. Unfortunately, it is a 12 hour bus ride so visits are few. She said he likes to sit around and smoke clove cigarettes all the time. <br /><br />Our trip is a bit of an early celebration of this upcoming birthday, but when you get to 90, I think you should celebrate it as early, and as often as you would like.<br /><br />My mother-in-law is an interesting person. She has traveled many places all over the world, she reads a wide variety of books, paints and played tennis until she was about 80. She and my father-in-law gave me one of my all-time favorite Christmas gifts many years ago. A wonderful Bessler photographic enlarger that I used faithfully to make my own black and white prints. It is waiting for me in storage in "Amerika" and I look forward to setting it back up and resuming my photographic printing one day.<br /><br />One thing my mother-in-law has always done, is sing a lot. From the time sugar lips and I met and started dating, I remember her singing little bits of tunes. I have to say that I don't think I have ever heard her sing an entire song. But it seems to have always brought her a lot of pleasure to sing aloud whatever snippet was running through her head. Rock on granny!<br /><br />She served in the Navy as a WAVE and did physical therapy with wounded soldiers returning from World War II. In fact she out ranked her future husband, and father to my honey. This was always a source of amusement.<br /><br />She taught school for many, many years. History and Earth Science. High School and Junior High (or middle school as it would be called today). That had to be a tough assignment.<br /><br />These days, she paints and gardens and enjoys life at a more leisurely pace. <br /><br />But the thing that I appreciate most, is that she helped produced my sweet husband. I hope one day, someone will be as appreciative of my sweet son as I am of hers.<br /><br />So, it is off to Amerika for Happy Birthday soon. As they say in Bahasa Indonesian Selamat Ulang Tahun - Congratulations for the repeat of another year!<br /><br />We wish for you pleasant thoughts as you reflect over 90 years of life. I hope your pluses are greater than your minuses. Your joys greater than your sorrows. Most of your dreams fulfilled. A sense of contentment for the life you have lived, and the contributions you have made. And lastly, an excitement for more birthdays to come and more memories to make.<br /><br />Happy Birthday!Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3445262947681978559.post-17525778346318795342012-06-19T10:58:00.018+07:002012-06-19T19:36:16.201+07:00The Father's Day - Indonesian Squirrel AdventureSince my last post concerned Mother's Day, I thought I should touch on the Father's Day experience we had. Unlike Mother's Day, there is no official Father's Day celebrated here. Since not too many people wear ties in this part of the world, there is not much merchandising that can go on for expat fathers. Maaf fellas.<br /><br />However, we did mark the day with a phone call from our son, breakfast out, a ride on the Ninja and Scoopy and an unexpected backyard guest.<br /><br />I say backyard as if we really had some expanse of dirt to claim as a yard. Our backyard is 50% pool, 49% patio and 1% dirt where two palm trees grow and an assortment of ferns, orchids and hibiscus eek out a living. In some ways, this is good as the pool is usable year round and should take center stage and having less vegetation behind the pool helps to cut down on mosquito hangouts, or so we hope.<br /><br />The people behind us have a bigger yard and some nice trees and bamboo that grow taller than the ten or twelve foot wall that sections off our house from theirs. Birds come to visit the trees as do squirrels.<br /><br />Indonesian squirrels are smaller and slimmer and tails are much more modest than the big bruisers we have in the US. We don't see them with the same frequency as we did in Texas either. What that means is you don't see too many saucer-squirrels that obviously acted "squirrely" and got mowed down by a motorist. Here it is usually a rat that gets saucerized.<br /><br />Over the weekend a young squirrel apparently made it down the palm tree or fell from the palm tree on to the small landing strip of "land" behind the pool. He zipped back and forth and would climb about half-way up the tree but wouldn't go any further. This went on most of Saturday afternoon and we figured that by Sunday morning he would figure it out.<br /><br />We were mistaken.<br /><br />We went to breakfast and returned home. Decided to go for a swim and thought all was clear until we saw our little friend peeking around from the back of the palm tree. We tried going to the "land" side of the pool and that our presence would scare him enough that he would charge up the tree. Instead, he took refuge in the propane tank box that holds the gas tank that supplies fuel for our range. Grrrr.<br /><br />We now had a small, frightened squirrel in a confined area. If we force the door open on the propane box which way would he run? There isn't a lot of choice and I was worried that our legs could look like good things to climb. We decided we needed pool equipment to assist us. The net that our gardener uses to remove leaves from the pool is on a long pole. Perfect! We tried to get as far from the propane box as we could and still have leverage to open the door. After multiple attempts, we got the door open and banged on the box to scare him out. Out he came and promptly jumped in to a potted plant that is sitting behind the pool. A mecca for hiding if you are a small squirrel looking for cover.<br /><br />While we didn't scare him enough to run him up the palm, at least he was out of the propane tank area. We then decided to use the live trap that we had attempted to use, with no success, to trap a mouse that we had reeking havoc in the kitchen some time ago.<br /><br />After searching the garage we found the trap. As bait, we used a piece of dried fruit that was tough enough to not easily be snatched off the hook but not too heavy to pull the hook down that it was attached to and trip the door.<br /><br />We set the trap and went back to the patio side of the pool and waited. We couldn't swim because that would keep him from abandoning his garden retreat. So we just had to wait and leave him be. We went inside for a while and then came back out to have a cool drink on the patio. As we sat and chatted, we saw our friend moving around behind the pool between the palm trees. Finally, some action.<br /><br />We waited some more and finished our drinks and continued to talk. At last the temptation of a piece of dried kiwi lured our victim in to the trap and SNAP! The door tripped and he was inside. This was a much more successful capture that the great mouse adventure ever hoped to be. A victory dance should have been done.<br /><br />Unfortunately, the squirrel was not really a happy camper at this point. He was definitely not doing a victory dance but was getting pretty frantic inside the trap. We draped a towel over the trap to maybe calm him and to also protect our fingers just in case he was extremely panicked and nipped at us. We then transported him through the house and out the front door as you would do for any guest when it is time for them to go.<br /><br />The jaga on duty and a couple of the local security guys for the neighborhood were out front. Boy! We were the afternoon entertainment. As we opened the gate all eyes turned. To come out front with something mysteriously wrapped in a towel. Buddyyy! What a great way to liven up a slow Sunday afternoon. There were lots of questions about what we had in the towel. We were trying to explain about the trap and the squirrel in broken Indonesian and English. Lots of hand-waving and such. They all thought that we had caught a mouse, tikus. Nope. Had to look up the Indonesian word for squirrel - bajing before we went out as I knew that would be a question on the test. We finally got it straight what we had trapped and that we needed to release our guest.<br /><br />There are bushes and trees on the other side of the street from us, so I carried the trap over there and carefully pulled the towel away from the door. We opened the door and the prisoner, sorry - guest, would not come out. I finally had to shake him out and hope he didn't use me as a tree. Thankfully, the shrubs were much more attractive to him and he only paused a moment before he took off.<br /><br />While our squirrel didn't cause quite the excitement of the squirrel in the silly Ray Stevens song "The Mississippi Squirrel Revival", he did provide some entertainment for us and the security guys and I do think we might have uttered a Hallelujah.<br /><br />My honey pie wrapped-up the day, that celebrates his place in the world as a father, by watching a MotoGP (motorcycle Grand Prix) race that was being run in England. It was an all-around manly day which included male bonding with our son, hunting, gathering, capturing and racing. Who could ask for anything more?Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3445262947681978559.post-77266182308720904822012-05-13T19:55:00.018+07:002012-06-19T19:53:43.037+07:00Motorcycle Mama's DayToday is Mother's Day for moms living in the US. For those of us who are expatriated, and living in places where either Mother's Day isn't celebrated or perhaps celebrated on a different day of the year, we are celebrating along with our sisters from our native soil. In Indonesia, Mother's Day is actually celebrated in December. However, being continually enterprising and not wanting to miss a chance to make a sale, many businesses have Mother's Day offerings and the restaurants have lunches or brunches to celebrate mom on this pseudo-Mother's Day.<br /><br />This morning sweetie and I decided to do Mother's Day in a combo cultural fashion. We motorcycled over to the American Club and had breakfast and then attended the bazaar that they had set up in the parking lot. That way we covered all of the bases. Instead of taking the Ninja and my cute little Scoopy, we doubled up and rode on the Ninja together. Learning to ride a motorcycle or scooter does take a little practice. However, being a good passenger also requires some skill. It is important to sit still on the back and try to mimic the driver's body posture. In other words, don't lean to the left if the driver is leaning to the right<br /><br />We used to have a bumper sticker on one of our vehicles that said "Sleep tandem. Paddle solo." We got this bumper sticker from a place we used to go kayaking and rafting. What is implied is that for many, that would include me, paddling solo usually causes fewer arguments and a much more pleasant river experience for everyone. The same general idea applies when riding on the back of a motorcycle. You cannot be a backseat driver. You must go with what the driver is doing or things could get really messy.<br /><br />So, today I was a good passenger. Instead of looking ahead and thinking what I would do if I were driving, I just sat on the back and enjoyed the ride. <br /><br />When we go on distances further from the house, we wear a bit more gear than if we are just going down the street to the grocery. Honey lamb put on jeans, athletic shoes, and a light weight motorcycle jacket that he bought for warmer climates. I wore athletic shoes, capris and the black leather Ninja jacket that sugar pie got when he purchased his motorcycle. When you buy a new motorcycle or scooter here, you usually are given a helmet and a jacket. When my honey bought the Ninja they handed him a jacket and he tried it on. The sleeves were too short and it was a bit too small all over. When he asked if they had a bigger size he was told "One size fits all Pak." Well that may be, but a qualifier needs to be added. "One size fits all Indonesians." Therefore, I am now the proud owner of a very sharp looking black leather motorcycle jacket emblazoned with the word NINJA on the back. Maaf Pak.<br /><br />It was a pretty normal trip. Sugar plum seems to have fully embraced the way motorcycle driving is done here. You pretty much just make your own lanes, squeeze through open spaces and you learn how to get around stinky bajajs and kopaja buses quickly. Things went pretty well. We only had a few tense minutes involving a cement mixer on a street that really wasn't designed for something that big and a concrete divider between the two sides of the road. Other than that we looked very native. Well, there were a few glaring bule differences, but we did the Indonesian motorcycle population proud.<br /><br />We arrived at the American Club and pulled up to the first gate across the entrance to the grounds. If you are a member, you are allowed in to the next area which means there is another gate plus a metal barricade. Just like almost everywhere else here, your vehicle gets searched and wiped with a little cloth that I assume is supposed to turn a color or make an announcement if it detects some kind of suspicious residue on your vehicle. With a car, they lift the hood and check the engine compartment, open the trunk or the back hatch and use a mirror to look under the car. For a motorcycle, they open the little compartment under the seat and wipe the little cloth over the bike. The little cloth, along with your membership card are handed to a guard who disappears with them. I don't know what happens to all of this stuff after it leaves our sight, but if the card is passed back through the small opening in the gate, the doors are opened and the metal pole barricade is lifted and you are allowed to drive through.<br /><br />My honey loves to show up to the club on his motorcycle. All the men folk gather round and they ask him questions about his bike and admire him for embracing the culture it seems. We park our bike and and leave the helmets hanging off the handlebars, just like the locals, and drape our jackets over the seat so our backsides don't get toasted on a sun-scorched seat covering when we return to ride home.<br /><br />We had our breakfast and then moved out to the bazaar. You know you have been here a while when you begin to realize that a bazaar is almost as much of a social event as a shopping event. You see people you know and have a chat as you stand sweating in the heat and no one really notices. The vendors at the various tables recognize you and call out to you by name to come see what they have. Your son calls to wish you Happy Mother's Day and you say hello multiple times. However, no one seems to think it is odd that you just keep saying, "Hello" "Hello" "Helllloooo?" before you start uttering sentences. Besides, everyone here knows that cell phones are really for text messaging and not actual verbal conversations.<br /><br />This outing was good in that we couldn't buy much since I am totally not capable of riding while holding something, say the size of a car windshield, six foot aluminum ladder or a propane tank. Therefore, my rule-of-thumb was that whatever we bought had to fit in the confines of the backpack I was wearing on my back. We purchased a few small things and were about to leave when my sweetness decided that he really wanted a small end-table that was made out of a thick piece of teak. It apparently was calling his name. Panicked that he really thought I could handle that table while riding, I tried to delay the purchase. The vendor was very johnny-on-the-spot and said he could have it delivered to the house for us. We agree on a time of delivery and in Indonesian fashion, we are to just pay the driver when he arrives at the house at the appointed time. That whole experience is on the list of "Things I like about Indonesia."<br /><br />We returned home and since we have been out in the heat for a while, it was time for a Mother's Day dip in the pool to cool off. We fix drinks and grab out little pool floats and jump in. It was an enjoyable way to celebrate the day. Over the course of the day it was a pleasure to my heart to remember my mom, be remembered by my son, have my sweetie call his mom and know, that as mothers we share a very special experience. Thank you my sweet son for being who you are. No matter the distance, I always hold you close in my heart.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3445262947681978559.post-82690128750796107292012-03-09T13:35:00.027+07:002012-03-09T20:05:29.648+07:00Scoring a "10" on the Native Point ScaleThe last couple of weeks have been filled with an assortment of things that really indicate how much I am getting assimilated into life here. I would never have thought these things were normal until now.<br /><br />Let's begin with last week. Our driver was sick last week and when that happens, you have to make alternate plans for transportation. Sweetums and I decided to go by cab, at 6:00am, to our appointed places. Our night jaga, who was just getting off duty, decided he should go by scooter to commandeer a taxi for us. As honey bunch and I stood outside the gate, we see a taxi following along behind our guard. Is that service or what?<br /><br />We hop in the cab and tell the driver both destinations. He seemed a little hesitant about where he was going, but we kept giving terus, kiri, kanan (straight, left, right) instructions and he got me to the gym where I work out. They dropped me off and then departed for my main squeeze's office. <em><strong><strong>Native Points 1</strong></strong></em>.<br /><br />Upon finishing my workout, I came out fully expecting to hail a cab. That was an incorrect assumption. I could not get a cab to stop and pick me up. I decided to walk toward home and flag down a cab somewhere along the way. That shouldn't be so hard. Right?<br /><br />So, I walked and walked. Used the magic hand, referenced in a much earlier post to this blog, and got across lanes and lanes of traffic and waded throught motorcycles. It is truely amazing how well that magic hand thing works. <em><strong><strong>Native Points 4.</strong></strong></em><br /><br />After a bit, I realized that I was just out of luck with the taxi and decided to flag down a bajaj. That was a much more successful proposition than the taxi plan. A nice older driver, in a smoking bajaj, stopped when I made eye contact with him. I told him where I lived and asked him how much would he charge to take me there. I did this all in Bahasa Indonesia. Before you get all impressed, keep in mind that many times Bahasa Indonesia is a pretty abbreviated language. The literal translation would be something like, "Going to blah, blah, blah street name and house number, close to Hero grocery store in Kemang. How much?" All of that was only about twelve words. We agreed on a price and off we chugged. <em><strong>Native Points 5</strong></em>.<br /><br />The bajaj was clean, if you don't count the massive amounts of billowing smoke coming out the tail pipe located behind me. The passenger seat was all in one piece and actually had a fair amount of cushion. That is a real plus since the streets of Jakarta are not very smooth and the suspension on a bajaj is pretty non-existent. The little passenger door on the side of the bajaj had a good solid latch which opened and closed completely. Life was good at 7:45am as we puttered along.<br /><br />The world looks different viewed from a bajaj window. You are sitting partly shielded by the vinyl side window so you can really watch what is going on around you. Nobody can see that it is some bule woman gawking at them. The only give-away might be if they looked at my big ole' feet and longer legs. Not native proportions at all. Bajajs are quite manuverable and they go around cars,motorcycles, slower bajajs and ride right next to the curb many times. The kaki limas (the food vendor carts) are out on the sidewalks and the people belonging to them are preparing food. Folks have stopped to get a bowl of noodles, soup or nasi(rice)or perhaps some fruit from them. You are sitting right next to these adorable little carts and it smells really good. It really makes you hungry.<br /><br />Bajajs are slow and at times I could have walked much faster than ride, but it was such fun. It is kind of like riding on top of a self-propelled lawn mower at times, but still great fun. With all of the fumes and smoke from other passing bajaj drivers I told cutie pie that I got bajajed. See, everyone thinks the word bajaj is only a noun. Not.<br /><br />By the time I got home, I smelled like I had been mowing the lawn for hours. My hair, clothes, and skin reeked of exhaust fumes. Once again, there were more terus, kiri and kanan instructions to get me home. When the bajaj pulled up in front of the house, the jaga opened the gate and he started to laugh when I climbed out. I think they didn't expect me to arrive home via bajaj. <em><strong>Native Points 5</strong></em>.<br /><br />However, today I think I scored a <em><em><strong><strong>10</strong></strong></em></em> on the <em><strong><strong>Native Point Scale</strong></strong></em>. Some of my friends were going to a little cafe for lunch that is located not too far from my house. Since it has been raining a good deal, my poor little Scoopy hasn't been driven much. I decided to scoopy to lunch. I strapped on my nifty new helmet and away I went. Lunch was great and then my friends came out to see my Scoopy first hand. Oh, my little Scoopy and I were greatly admired! I bid them goodbye and off I went. I didn't get far before I saw my housekeeper walking home from an errand she had run. I asked her if she wanted a ride. She nodded and hopped on. But what really made it native was the fact that she rode home side-saddle! She is my first passenger to do that. I see ladies all the time riding this way. In my book that is getting pretty native.<br /><br />Once again the jaga got a surprise when he opened the gate. His eyes flew wide open upon seeing my little housekeeper riding side-saddle on the back of my Scoopy. <br /><br />One of my very long time friends recently sent me a birthday card and said something to the effect of "That is some kind of life you are leading." Yes, it is. My sister said she thinks it is like a program on NOVA. Yes, it is. There are days when I just still cannot believe I am here and the things I am experiencing. None of those feelings are lost on me. I still feel amazingly blessed to have this chapter in my life. I still feel amazed that I am doing something that I never, ever would have remotely thought about doing in my life.<br /><br />Happy trails to you all. Scoopy or bajaj. Enjoy the ride.<br /><br /><br /><br /><strong></strong><strong></strong><em></em><em></em><strong></strong><em></em>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3445262947681978559.post-23706061238010790392012-02-10T11:20:00.024+07:002012-02-27T14:35:55.479+07:00Two years and counting<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmCzZBPJ9rd5LURcMmny-T7ipF_T5Xdv2OYctKNdVSMV5pBoCYfuy1hE9OvCpXO8E8Py5B4-zEpC6mMS101kk5-dyZm2s8V111BLedZT_daffcuRkML15bGlR-xyxLuo6NAow52baxaE9N/s1600/_JLH9753-blog.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 256px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmCzZBPJ9rd5LURcMmny-T7ipF_T5Xdv2OYctKNdVSMV5pBoCYfuy1hE9OvCpXO8E8Py5B4-zEpC6mMS101kk5-dyZm2s8V111BLedZT_daffcuRkML15bGlR-xyxLuo6NAow52baxaE9N/s320/_JLH9753-blog.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5710098252971982978" /></a><br />My darlin' and I just passed our two year anniversary of expat life. When you pass these milestones, it is nice to recall where you started and how far, or not, you have come.<br /><br />I recently attended a newcomers coffee at the American Women's Association. Seeing all of those faces really drove my anniversary memories home. Looking across the room, seeing faces full of anticipation, some showing a brave front but the apprehension in the eyes giving them away, some looking so excited about trying something totally different,and many looking kind of like deer caught in the headlights. Even though it has been two years, I still remember the huge range of emotions I felt upon my arrival. I am very happy to not be at that stage anymore. <br /><br />Where should I begin. One of my sister-in-laws thought I should talk about laundry as it continues to be a source of pleasure and pain.<br /><br />When we moved in to our rental house, the washer that was here was pretty decrepit and it only had a cold water inlet so everything had to be washed on cold. I try to be ecologically minded, but when it comes to washing towels and undergarments, hot water is my top choice.<br /><br />However, the washer has become even more irksome over the course of the last six months or so. We were beginning to see odd rust stains on things, holes in others and a lovely sprinkling of gold glitter showing up on inappropriate pieces of clothing like sweetums dress slacks. We finally decided the washer was most definitely the culprit.<br /><br />Before I expand, as you know I will, I know you can figure out the rust stains, old washer + harsh water = rust. The holes were still a bit open for debate as my little ironing machine of a housekeeper can beat every article of clothing, every sheet, every sock, every pair of underwear into complete submission with her strong arms, hot little iron and massive determination. Mr. Sweetie Pie has several sets of socks that she had ironed the entire heels out of and a pair or two of dress slacks that have been ironed so hard that they are shiny and look like they are made out of satin. We have bed sheets that we had to patch with iron on patches my brothers sent to me from home because she wants them completely pressed. Therefore, I know what she is capable of. However, in all fairness, I feel that some of the holes we have been discovering are not ironing related casualties. They have to have been made by the washer. These holes are not located in places that she would normally wear the ever lovin' pooh out of with the iron.<br /><br />Ahhh. Now you ask, "What about the glitter?" Honey bun and I have been married a loooong time and I know for a fact he does not own anything with glitter on it. So we had to really work to solve this one.<br /><br />Batik is the national fabric of Indonesia. It is an interesting process to make each piece. I will not go in to the process here, but some of the fabrics have gold throughout the design. It is called prana which is the Javanese word for gold. It used to be made with gold leaf or gold dust. I am sure what we have is neither of those things, but it looks pretty and we like it regardless. It is very lasting on the fabric and amazingly enough, my housekeeper cannot iron it off.<br /><br />We have a table cloth on our breakfast room table that has prana on it and it gets washed on a very regular basis. With that in mind, I think that between aggressive ironing and a cranky washer little bits of it are flaking off. These little flakes seem to be especially fond of honey lamb's dark trousers. Unfortunately, after putting on his slacks or resting his hand on his leg he inadvertently picks up gold glitter on his fingers. One thing leads to another and pretty soon he is looking like Ru-Paul about to appear on some tell-all TV show. I must say that everyone at sweetum's office has been very polite about it. Not one single person has said, "Hey there partner. Nice glitter you got going on today." My hubby thanks them for their restraint.<br /><br />As the evidence and dissatisfaction mounted a couple of weeks ago, we ventured to Lotte Mart to check out the machine cuci (washing machine). Lotte Mart (pronounced Low-tay Mart) is a store where they have this insidious jingle that they play repeatedly while you are shopping. Holy Cow. It will drive you insane. Sorry, got off topic for a second. We checked out washers and found a 7kg load capacity washer that has a heating element inside. This way, no hot water line is required and the washer heats the water as needed. That was the ticket.<br /><br />We plunked down our money. Five million plus for a washer. (I still find it amazing that we buy things in the millions here) and set up a delivery date. Two young Indonesian men arrive to bring the washer in. Our laundry area is on the second floor so between the delivery guys and my gardener, they manhandled it up the steps. After it came to rest in the general area of the old washer, they kept handing me paperwork to sign - yes signing paperwork continues to be a popular activity here no matter what you do and I am sure you remember the laundry story where I discussed my initiation into this process. However, the washer was still in the box, unopened and they were making no attempt to take it out or set it up. One thing I have learned, is DO NOT sign that innocent looking piece of paper until everything is okie dokie. I live in the land of "No returns." If the washer had been damaged I would not have been able to do one thing about it. <br /><br />So, in my very best broken Bahasa Indonesia I requested them to open the box and let me inspect the washer. None too happy, they opened it and everything looked fine. Next, I wanted them to connect it, but was told that a service technician would have to come do that. Really??? They gave me a number for customer service to set that up. I tipped them, was forced to sign the paperwork and they fled the scene. With my ironing queen behind me, we came back downstairs and I called the number they had given me. Hmmmmm. Not a working number. GRRRR. I looked up the store on-line, called a different number and promptly handed the phone over. I knew my language skills are just too limited to get in to that kind of discussion.<br /><br />The next day they were set to come. Upon my return from the grocery, I wander upstairs and could hear a hopeful sound. I look around the corner and can see clothes merrily tossing around in my new front load washer. Now as far as the service technician went, he should have come with the original delivery crew because, I was not there to sign yet some other piece of paper and most importantly to him, I was not there to give him a tip.<br /><br />I still watch the lives being lived around me with a lot of fascination and sometimes sorrow. Within a one week period, I witnessed the joy of a little girl riding on the back of a scooter behind her mom. The girl's arms are flung wide and she is dressed in a little pink jacket. The mother is laughing and even though I cannot hear them, I feel sure something equivalent to "Wheee!" is being cheerfully expressed as the two of them come speeding down the hill. Days later as my honey and I came home from the movies I saw a young girl, perhaps seven or eight with a big white bag slung over her back. She was poking in trash cans and ditches collecting plastic to recycle. In traffic ahead of us, was a boy about ten pulling a cart that was several times larger then he and it had cardboard in it. The two of them met on the side of the road and then cutting between cars and across the intersection they went along together. All this was happening as darkness was falling as fast as fat rain drops were beginning to tumble down. These are the things that haunt me in my dreams.<br /><br />It is a country of massive wealth of the few and massive poverty of the many. Where people can be so gentle and helpful and yet so uncaring about things that surprise you. <br /><br />Do I still get home sick? Yes, most definitely. The distance is still so great between us and our loved ones. I love that our son has been able to come here and see what this world is like. I still feel it is an amazing opportunity that we are able to do this and we can include him in even a little piece of it. However, you still have days where you would just like to be home.<br /><br />There are many things that I have gotten to experience here that I have never done or thought of doing before. Having my cute little Scoopy is a delight. To be immersed in a culture and language that are not my own is an eye opener. Cream baths. Who knew? Seeing life lived so differently, so publicly. Signing my name to a million pieces of papers I am sure over the last two years. Probably appearing in 20,000+ Indonesian "my bule friends" photo albums on social media sights. Living in a land of volcanoes, earth quakes, and potential tsunamis. Being forced to figure out all of the bad, good, and the different each day.<br /><br />I guess, all-in-all, two years finds us at a point where we have some idea of what we are doing in our expat lives. Some days it's not too pretty, but we keep at it. In this respect, we are the same no matter the location. However, I do keep learning new things, learning how to handle various situations that pop-up, and meeting new people who are going through the same process.<br /><br />Would there be things I would do differently if I could do it again? Most definitely. I would have asked a lot more questions, demanded a lot more answers, brought a lot more pepto-bismol, and told myself to be a lot more patient with the process of living in a foreign place as opposed to vacationing in a foreign destination. The best news is, that honey pie and I don't feel quite like nubies anymore. We are used to being stared at, being taller than almost everyone, saying maaf a lot, cars coming at us from every direction doesn't seem quite so frightening, sitting in a swarm of motorcycles is normal. Not sure if that is a good thing or a bad thing, but it is where we are and it is most definitely not at the beginning.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3445262947681978559.post-349586229198304742012-01-08T04:40:00.034+07:002012-01-17T12:53:06.923+07:00An oasis of beer in a desert of wine<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEir5AY5e0nDNtZijJjHuKNCwgtzihV-lODkc-Tiy5-gTFD-lJx3crz71PxVbfVBeYOJ2x_bnLtKP8jVKeYXdd80O5-PL3rZZPZck2cCfbujz-R1g0AVqmykZKdAdFq3e2WgzqdeDjCY1-Zc/s1600/_JLH9392-2.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 229px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEir5AY5e0nDNtZijJjHuKNCwgtzihV-lODkc-Tiy5-gTFD-lJx3crz71PxVbfVBeYOJ2x_bnLtKP8jVKeYXdd80O5-PL3rZZPZck2cCfbujz-R1g0AVqmykZKdAdFq3e2WgzqdeDjCY1-Zc/s320/_JLH9392-2.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5698171907121823506" /></a><br />We had fun, times three, over the Christmas holidays. Sweetie one and I were fortunate to have sweetie two join us for the holiday season. My big guy winged his way over and after a very long flight, one piece of luggage that didn't want to come along for the trip until a day later, and lots of confusion at the airport we were all reunited as a family. Happy times!<br /><br />While the funk of jet lag wore off for cutie two, we played in Jakarta, rode the Scoopy and Ninja, ate yummy food, visited the gem market, checked out the mall Christmas decorations, floated in the pool and just enjoyed each others company.<br /><br />On Christmas Day, we opened a few gifts and then went to the Dharmawangsa Hotel for a Christmas Buffet. The Dharmawangsa (Dharma (just like charm but with an uh sound at the end)- wong - suh)is a very nice older hotel in South Jakarta. The buffet was quite good and they had a very cute, tropical Santa wandering around with a pack slung over his back from which he handed out toys to the kids in attendance. They also had a musical group performing Christmas songs on the patio. It was all very relaxing and fun.<br /><br />As the afternoon wore on, we had to make sure we were packed and ready for a very early departure from Jakarta to the land down-under the day after Christmas. Not only did I get the gift of us all being together, but we were doing a modified family road trip. Kind of.<br /><br />We boarded a plane bound for Perth, Australia about the time the home side of the planet was eating an early Christmas dinner or late lunch. We had to make a "technical stop" in Bali which meant getting off the plane, walking through the Bali airport to a different gate and re-boarding after about 45 minutes. From there it was three and a half hours till touch down in Oz.<br /><br />While in our mother-land it is Winter, in Australia it is Summer. That means the kids are out of school. Christmas equals riding a surfboard and going for a swim in the beautiful waters that surround this huge island to the south of Indonesia. Since the population and pollution are much less than Jakarta's, the sun was quite intense and the temperatures ran in the upper 90 degree range most of the week while we were visiting.<br /><br />We arrived in Western Australia, collected our bags and went through immigration and customs. The idea is to drive south from Perth for about three and a half hours and arrive in the Margaret River area by dinner time. Just like the seasons, driving in Australia is opposite from what we usually do. That is to say we are now going to try our hand at driving a car on the left hand side of the road. Honey bun and I ride our scooter and motorcycle on the left in Jakarta, but neither of us has tried to drive something larger than a means of transportation with two wheels. However, with the three of us to keep our eyes open for road signs, highway numbers, following the basic navigation app we downloaded to my iPad, and stray kangaroos we were ready for our down-under experience.<br /><br />Australia has these clever round abouts that took a little getting used to. I guess they are showing their European roots with this system. This also gave sugar pie practice with the turn signal, staying on the left and figuring out which spoke he was supposed to be aiming for. I say practice with the turn signal because more times than not, sweetie number one would inevitably turn on the windshield wipers instead of the signal. This became pretty much standard practice every time we got in the car. Get in the car. Seat belts on. Engine on. Back out of parking space. Drive to corner to make a turn and oops; there go those pesky wipers. It provided a constant source of entertainment, and to some degree betting as to which one he would activate - the signals or the wipers. Sorry honey. We bet on the wipers most of the time. Love you. *Addendum - after I read my blog aloud to my sugar he asked that I please note that the turn signal and the windshield wipers are located in reverse on the steering column to what we are used to. There you go honey. A note has been made.<br /><br />We arrived at our destination all in one piece and had a delicious dinner at our lodging. Where we were staying, there were lots of Karri trees. They are attractive trees; tall with light colored bark. Our host told us that most folks don't like to hang out under the Karri trees very long because the termites find them attractive too. That means large limbs are prone to fall off without warning. Keep that in mind if you ever visit Australia.<br /><br />There are all kinds of birds calling as evening begins to settle in. There are the great imitators - the magpie as well as kookaburos, what I think are lorakeets, and what appears to be warblers of some type. Also at dusk and dawn the kangaroos come out. Yes, the unusual looking animals are just like deer roaming around in the fields, the edge of the woods and brushy areas. They are very timid and take off at the slightest movement.<br /><br />As usual, I am working my way to the reason that prompted me to title my post the way that it appears. Margaret River is one of the wine producing areas of Australia. There is also a fair amount of cattle, goats and sheep raised here. Therefore, you find cheese and ice cream to be a source of pride for the region along with wine. But we didn't go that route. Nope, sweetie two has decided to learn to make his own beer, meade, and ciders as a hobby. Therefore, part of our visit to the area was to check out the micro-brewery scene. One of these brew houses used the motto "An oasis of beer in a desert of wine." Well, there you have it. So let's get on with the rest of this tale.<br /><br />We mapped out the breweries that we wanted to visit and mixed them in with other sight-seeing activities. It was such a refreshing change to have so little traffic, eye popping blue skies, magnificent blue water, clean air and some really tasty beverages to boot. We visited brew houses in Margaret River, Freemantle, and Perth. Each one was different and each one was enjoyable. We walked along beaches, visited lighthouses, walked on city streets, poked around in shops, tried out the local cuisine, toured museums, saw kangaroos and just soaked up Aussieness.<br /><br />At the micro-breweries, one of the first sthat struck us was that almost all had playgrounds, or play areas and green space. Entire families would arrive and those with kids would sit out at the tables on the grass so the kids could run around, climb on the playground equipment or play in the sand box. Now I haven't been to any breweries like that in the US. Maybe I have missed them, but I don't think so.<br /><br />The second thing that struck us was that we were no longer towering over the population as we do in Jakarta. A large percentage of the people we saw were our height or taller. Sweetie two is a pretty tall Texan and he even looked short compared to a few of the Aussie men we saw. Must be all of that fresh air.<br /><br />We also noted that the large majority of the population wear hats when they are out and about. They are serious about sun protection. Since the sun is very intense, and they don't have the SPF30 pollution sunscreen we have in Jakarta, they cover up. However, since many of the hats were very cute short-brimmed numbers perhaphs it is to just keep your head from frying.<br /><br />The food was predictable at some of our stops. Typical pub grub. Hamburgers and pizza. However, the hamburgers still had a down-under twist. Atop your burger was lots of lettuce, shredded carrots, sliced pickled beets, tomato, maybe grilled onions, a dab of mayo, and a touch of bar-b-que sauce. Now don't go all eeewwwww on me. No pickles and no catsup seem like a major crime all on their own. But pickled beetroot (as they like to call it) and shredded carrot??? It was actually pretty tasty. We ate several burgers prepared that way and enjoyed them quite a bit.<br /><br />Our tour went from very up-scale to very not up-scale brewing establishments. The very not up-scale place was actually the most fun. We pulled up late in the afternoon; about 4:10 to a place called the Bush Shack. This brewery was supposed to be representative of a bush shack (surprise) out in the Australian Outback I think. We drove around and I really didn't think we should get out. Its rough facade was a little too authentic looking. However, this was why we were here so we got out. It was probably our favorite place. We missed the food service, it ended at four, but the offerings looked really interesting and I hate we missed out. The beer was very good and well crafted. The staff was so friendly. In fact, I was about to take a picture in the bar area and they invited us behind the bar and I handed over my camera to one of the staff. In the photo, we all looked like we were pulling the taps and serving some brews. Thanks guys. It was a great afternoon.<br /><br />As we drove around Margaret River, we observed signs that said, "Who's your skipper?" I liked that. What a colorful way to ask you if you have a designated driver. Good advice anywhere you are.<br /><br />We also observed tour buses for both the wineries and the micro-breweries. Two of my favorites were "Wine Tours for Dudes" and "Margie's Big Day Out." I think we could have called ourselves "Two Dudes and a Mom Beer Tour" or "Sweeties Big Day Out." Whatever we called ourselves, we had a great time.<br /><br />We visited chocolate shops, did a speed tour of a cheese shop - totally different story that would make no sense unless you were there, watched kite-surfers, wind surfers, surfer surfers having so much fun in a sea the color of aquamarine that you just wanted to jump in a give it a try. All of this before we made our way north, back to Perth.<br /><br />We spent two nights in Perth and after a long day of walking we retired to the hotel and turned on the TV. There was a cricket match being televised. The Perth Scorchers versus the Brisbane Heat. I kid you not. It was a sell out crowd in attendance. The really odd part was that it was being held about a mile away from our hotel as we could see the lights on the field. We watched the match and tried to figure out what was going on. Shockingly enough, we found that it was pretty interesting and we had a good time watching. Would have been even better to see it in person. While we were watching the action, we realized that who we thought were three announcers were actually two announcers talking to the "bowler" who was wearing a microphone while he was playing. Imagine the announcers have conversations with Eli Manning while he is out on the field quarterbacking? We were amazed.<br /><br />We visited one last brew house in Perth and it was the most up-scale. It was good, but after the Bush Shack life just wasn't the same. So, on New Year's Eve we turned in our car, headed to immigration (where by the way we had a delightful chat with the immigration officials as there was practically no one else in the airport), and then off to the gate we went.<br /><br />Sunny Australia was fun and we feel truly blessed that we were all able to share it together. May you, and those you love have some time to spend together soon. No brewhouse necessary.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3445262947681978559.post-31199932515592591862011-12-07T14:25:00.038+07:002011-12-12T17:22:34.715+07:00My Thanksgiving turkey earned frequent flier miles<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKhrFXCY5zthLbO1lPJprSIUIiyN9_2QNZyq7v86raT8C52zJH_KQgpeyzIjK-pOT-qdYGXhiegS86NVjlFUELbErpJNDedWHcLSjiJyoVTF4lBq8EBY8aDW6Orrj7-AlGdyOTeOZBK4Tn/s1600/_JLH0177.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKhrFXCY5zthLbO1lPJprSIUIiyN9_2QNZyq7v86raT8C52zJH_KQgpeyzIjK-pOT-qdYGXhiegS86NVjlFUELbErpJNDedWHcLSjiJyoVTF4lBq8EBY8aDW6Orrj7-AlGdyOTeOZBK4Tn/s320/_JLH0177.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5685183937349702642" /></a><br />For Thanksgiving this year, my honey bunch and I flew with two other couples to the island of Sumatra. We went there for several reasons. First, we were invited by one of the other expat wives that we know as her husband had a birthday happening very close to Thanksgiving and he wanted to go to Lake Toba which is on Sumatra. Second, none of us had been to Lake Toba before and thought that it sounded like an interesting and fun place to visit to help him celebrate his birthday. Lastly, it is good to get out of Jakarta and breath some fresh air for a little while.<br /><br />As the trip approached, the birthday boy's wife, who was doing the primary organizing, decided that since we were leaving the Friday after Thanksgiving (which I am sure you know, Thanksgiving is not a holiday in this country) we should cook a turkey during our stay and have a belated Thanksgiving feast and a birthday dinner combined. Hmmmm. I think to myself. Turkeys are available on a limited basis in Jakarta. We are now flying from the capital of the country, which is pretty cosmopolitan, to a remote location on a different island. What are the chances that a turkey will be available there?<br /><br />Well, the answer to the question is, "No worries." We will just bring one with us. Not only was the plan to bring a 14 pound frozen turkey in the carry on luggage, but also lots of the fixin's to go with it. I brought two cans of cranberry sauce, one can of black olives - stuffed in my hiking boots and socks - and a three bean salad that I had prepared and placed in a zip lock bag and then placed that inside of a container that sealed and would fit in my large purse. The other ladies brought a can of pumpkin and pecans with which to make pies, a turkey, stuffing mix and a few other goodies stuffed in all sorts of places in their luggage.<br /><br />I would really like to know is it just me, or does everyone have these really bizzar experiences? What is it about this place that just seems to bring out all kinds of wackiness?<br /><br />So early Friday morning we met at the airport. Throughly prepared to have my cranberry sauce, olives and salad confiscated, I am amazed as we pass completely through security without one question being asked. <br /><br />We get to the gate and wait for everyone else to show up. Sure enough about 20 minutes later here they come. Turkey and stuffing in tow. Please tell me what you think a 14 pound frozen turkey must look like on an airport x-ray machine. With all of this stuff, and stuffing, going through the scanner maybe they thought we were taking supplies to needy children on the island and thus didn't say one word. I am still totally taken aback. In my home country this would never fly - no pun intended. After reading about the 80+ year old woman who was stripped searched at JKF, how could a turkey go on board unquestioned?<br /><br />We board the plane and off we go to Medan, Sumatra which is located on the northern half of the island. Upon arrival, and lots of checked luggage confusion, we are met by two drivers who will transport us from Medan to the shores of Lake Toba where we will then catch a ferry boat that will transport us to the island of Samosir which is located in the lake.<br /><br />Before we go further, let me tell you a little about Lake Toba. As I have probably mentioned before, Indonesia is located in what is known as the "Pacific Ring of Fire." What is left of Krakatau sits about five or six ours to the west of Jakarta to give you a little perspective. We have lots of volcanic activity (Indonesia has the highest number of active volcanoes (130+) of any other country) and earthquakes which can consequently trigger a tsunami. Lake Toba is a lake and a super volcano. The lake formed in the crater of the volcano after it erupted and cooled down a very, very long time ago. It was an even bigger explosion than Krakatau. Lake Toba is 62 miles long by 18.5 miles wide and 1,666 feet deep at its deepest point. This makes it the deepest volcanic lake in the world. It is an impressive thing to read about and is mind boggling to see.<br /><br />Back to the journey. I read in the Jakarta Post, a day or two before our trip, that the fatality rate from vehicular accidents in Northern Sumatra has risen dramatically over the last year. I took note, but didn't feel like it was something I really needed to worry about.<br /><br />After riding on what is fondly called "the death road" for about 4.5 hours I now get it. Imagine a two lane road filled with trucks transporting goods, vans, cars, little local taxis, and motorcycles. Also imagine that no matter what the speed, the maximum distance between the vehicles is about six inches. The speed varies from about five mph to about 40 or 50 mph. People really get antsy when they are going under 40 so all that is left to do is pass what is slowing you down.<br /><br /><br />The result is a massive game of chicken. At times, since we are on a two lane road, there are four vehicles coming head-on toward each other. We were fortunate that we made it around each time with a few too many of them being just at the very last second. After 4.5 hours of this I was a bit frayed around the edges. To highten the effect, one of the other couples who rode in the van with us decided that playing music from their ipod would make it all better. At times the music was playing, little noises were escaping my lips as we were head-on with a vehicle. There were a lot of thoughts that this was most definitely not the best idea that I had ever had and I wanted to take my cranberry sauce, my sweetie and walk back to the airport and return home.<br /><br />By the time we made it to the ferry landing, the ferry is about to leave. We grab our gear and run and jump on the boat. After all of the stress of the van ride, a boat ride is welcome relief. We chug along in the clear waters of the lake and take in the fact that we are in the middle of an old volcano. Time has been kind and the volcano walls have eroded and are lush with vegetation. You see little villages along the shore of the lake. It is a predominately christian region so you see small churches dotting the shore as well.<br /> <br />Samosir is an island that was formed when all the gunk in the bottom of the volcano solidified and was forced up by magma to form a beautiful but rugged piece of land that is the size of the country of Singapore in the middle of the lake. As we approach, we are enticed with the views of fishermen setting out nets, a thin water fall pulsing down the side of the island mountains, simple resorts with interesting roof lines that mimic the shape of water buffalo horns - kind of a very wide and low U-shape, and a even a few jet skis. It is lovely with all the flowers and greenery.<br /><br />We arrive to our destination after about 30 minutes and check-in. Our room is on the second floor of what they call a cottage. There is no air conditioning, but we have big windows and a fan. We discover that when we turn on the shower, the water is pumped up to the second floor and the shower pulses to the rhythm of the pump. Unfortunately, so do the lights in the bathroom. It is kind of like a disco when you shower minus John Travolta and the music from Saturday Night Fever.<br /><br />We eat dinner at the resort and the food is delicious. Honey pie and I both had a fish and vegetable curry. WOW! Everything is open air and there are a lot of friendly dogs wandering around the property. They come lay by your feet and take a nap. Never saw one of then beg. They were too laid back for that.<br /><br />Saturday morning. Honey bun and I get up early and go for a walk. One of the dogs we met the night before decided to be our escort. He was a cute black and white medium-sized dog with a tail that curled around just so. We three walked along the street together. He running ahead and waiting for us to catch up and us looking all around being amazed at all of the flowers and scenery. Tropicals of all kinds along with roses, which you don't really see in Jakarta, and huge palms and hardwood trees. It was a nice walk. We ventured up to the Catholic church which had a big wing-ding going on. It is a new church and the bishop had been brought in from Medan, and I KNOW there was a lot of praying before he got there because he had to come up the same road we did, to bless the church as well as the many young people waiting to be confirmed. There was a huge turn-out. Folks were all dressed up. Those that were not directly participating in the service were cooking large pots full of pork and vegetables. There was going to be major chowing down at the end of the ceremony. We made a small donation and got a program and wandered around a little bit. It was interesting standing looking at coffee plants, rice fields, and lush vegetation while organ music gently drifted across to you. I swear it was like the music was emmeshed in the warm moist air. You could almost see the notes.<br /><br />We took some photos and moved on to leave them to their celebration. We walked past numerous water buffalo, deep in wallows of mud. They looked joyous to be all covered in cool mud. It didn't seem to bother them one little bit that it smelled pretty bad. Earth and sometimes rotting fish. I walked out in one fields and my dog friend followed. He barked at me when I got too close to the water buffalo. Not sure who he was warning; me or the water buffalo. Perhaps he was scolding me for getting too close. Whatever the case, I found it touching and heeded his friendly advice. Despite the warning, we all seemed to be happy to be where we were and in the state we were. Life was pretty good.<br /><br />We walked and waved at the towns people and then returned to the cottages where we had a breakfast including locally grown and roasted coffee. Starbucks. Take that! By that time, the rest of the troops were up and we all decided to walk the other direction on the road and take in the sights that way. Once again beautiful vegetation and lovely views of the lake. Our dog buddy was taking a nap so we were on our own for that walk.<br /><br />Upon returning to the cottages the second time, we decided to rent scooters and drive a little so we could get more sights in. One of the couples had their teenage daughter with them so we used it as a teaching session for her to learn to ride without very much traffic. It all went well and we had a good pizza lunch by the lake and returned to the cottages to begin the turkey preparations.<br /><br />Turkey is not native to Indonesia. I feel pretty certain this was the first time most of them had ever seen a 14 pound turkey much less cranberry sauce and stuffing. We were bustling around their kitchen, mainly getting in the way, and trying to put this feast together. At times you could see they were a bit annoyed. I would have been if I had been in their shoes. A bunch of bules invading their space cooking weird looking food and asking for ingredients in very bad Bahasa Indonesian. But in Indonesian style, they were gracious and helped us where they could. Lots of modifications had to be made. They had no evaporated milk or regular containers of spices for pumpkin pies or a rolling pin. Pie is also a rather foreign concept. When told that we were making pie they thought we meant pumpkin bread. So modified pastry dough was made, rolled out with a bottle of water, sweetened condensed milk was used and cinnamon sticks and whole cloves were pulverized to add to the pie. No powdered ginger so we used fresh grated ginger instead. <br /><br />By 7pm we had put it all on the table. We had taught them how to make mashed potatoes, pie dough, cook a turkey (not that they will ever see another one), make gravy and dish out cranberry sauce from a can. The three bean salad was probably the most normal looking thing on the table as there were green beans, edamame (soy beans) and black bean all in there. <br /><br />It was a delicious feast and when we were done we shared it with the staff. They seemed to get over being inconvenienced and I think they enjoyed seeing even simple things like potatoes used in a different way that they can replicate at their own homes.<br /><br />Sunday. The second full day of our island-within-an-island-in-a-lake experience took us walking and then scootering around the northern end of the Samosir. It was quite interesting to see many more of the traditional homes, different views of the lake, two smaller volcanoes (that were still active), hot springs, lots of water buffalo, interesting shrines that were small replicas of the traditional batak houses, many churches, children playing and friendly faces. <br /><br />I will elaborate on these events another day. I am sure you are tired of the descriptions by this point. But needless to say, it was an interesting trip filled with many beautiful and unexpected sights.<br /><br />If you ever get to go to Lake Toba just remember to breath deeply while you are riding from the airport to the ferry dock and lovely things await you on beautiful Samosir.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3445262947681978559.post-90123887937218374442011-11-11T16:49:00.023+07:002011-11-11T19:51:02.932+07:00Hellos and good-byesLife here is always an adventure. Between TRAFFIC, figuring out where to buy the things you either need or want, assorted things that I will not get in to, and people coming and going all the time you sometimes get a little off balance.<br /><br />Today the SEA Games began. The Southeast Asia Games, which are held every two years, are kind of like the Olympics. Hello to all the athletes from 11 different countries who have arrived in Jakarta for the games. Best of luck to you all.<br /><br />There are various events - soccer, weightlifting, badminton, dragon boat racing, blah, blah, blah. Over the next 11 days, traffic is going to be even more of an issue than normal. Many of the major roads are going to be blocked so the competitors can use them to get to the venues and back more easily. Unfortunately, as we are not competitors, the rest of us will just have to work it out. I think getting to work for sweetie will not be the problem. It is going to be the getting home. Oh well, it is for only 11 days so we will just have to suck it up as best we can. I think snuggle bunny may want to consider taking a pillow, blanket, a change of clothes, and toothbrush/toothpaste just in case he can't get out.<br /><br />Also today, I said good-bye to a good friend. This is one of the parts about this life style, as mentioned before, that is very hard. Being so far from home, you really become more dependant on your friends than you might under normal circumstances. In 22 months I have had five close friends, and many acquaintances, move and I miss them a lot. It is a very transient situation when you live like we do. You have your heart broken on a regular basis.<br /><br />Anytime you leave friends, or they leave you, you all say good-bye and you truly hope that you will keep that promise that you will see each other again. The reality is that you know that unless you both make great effort, that will more than likely not happen.<br /><br />As she and I were eating our lunch, a lady came in that I had just met yesterday in my art class. She is from Perth, Australia and I invited her to sit down at the table with us. Somehow, very early on in her conversation, she started to talk about this very same thing; friends coming and going so quickly. My friend and I looked at each other in disbelief. You sometimes really think that what you are feeling just belongs to you and everyone else is doing okie dokie. This is the beauty of communication. When we actually share our thoughts and feelings with others we many times find out that we are not alone. <br /><br />I have met some very nice people, and some not so very nice, over the last 22 months. In fact, over the last month I have met several new expats that have come in from various locations. With some of them, I hope we will find common ground on which to build a friendship. That would be a good thing.<br /><br />That doesn't mean I will not miss my friend who is leaving today or the fine women I have met who have moved away earlier, or the friends who I have left in the US. They each hold a special place in my heart. I can never thank them enough and tell them what each of them mean to me.<br /><br />I sat this afternoon with a cup of my favorite tea, sweetened with honey from my brother's bee hives, and took fingers to keyboard to contemplate all of this. I think of those friends in my life that have come and gone. I miss many of them so very much and appreciate how they enriched me. The current friends that I have, no matter where they are, are treasures. I also look forward to opening my life up to new friends. Not only do I hope they will bring something special to my life, but I hope that I will to theirs as well.<br /><br />Safe journey my friend. I hope your return to the US brings you many good things. Enjoy being home with family and friends and don't forget about your time here in this land - 6 degrees below the equator.<br /><br />Cheers friends near and far.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3445262947681978559.post-55768641870590548932011-10-27T16:35:00.041+07:002011-10-28T19:46:14.358+07:00Birthday Pudding Pisang and Creole UdangThis weekend, honey pie and I are hosting a dinner party. It will be a party for twelve. At first I had planned to have it catered as it can be done very reasonably and really makes for easy entertaining and saves your sanity.<br /><br />As I was telling my housekeeper my plans, I got the look. The one where she drops her chin, looks up at me and with hands akimbo I swear she is saying "What you talkin' about Willis?" That phrase may be a little out of date for some of you reading this. The show that quote came from, "The Facts of Life," was off the air before my son was born I am pretty sure. Anyway, the look is one that I don't get very often but it comes straight to the point in a New York minute. So between "the look" and my sweeties' encouragement, I am now cooking dinner for twelve.<br /><br />My friends have been so sweet in loaning me wine glasses, ice buckets, and other party paraphernalia that I want to give a big shout out of thank you to them. However, the thing I want to thank them most for is the support and love that they share with me. My friends continue to be the thing that keeps me going many, many days here. Thanks guys!<br /><br />Back to the party. Today, Thursday, I decided to make desserts. Both selections are things that improve when they sit and mingle a little bit. The first thing I made is a recipe my son gave to me for what he calls "surprise chocolate pie." The reason it has the word surprise in its title is because it contains silken tofu. Surprise! However, it gives it the most awesome texture and if you didn't know it had tofu, you would most likely not guess it. My version is called "surprise mousse" since I am unable to get the cookies necessary for the crust and must serve it in individual containers.<br /><br />The other dessert I made is a variation on banana pudding. I guess I should really say a variation on a variation. When you are using a bule recipe, it is essential that you have the ability to improvise. Many times things are just not available here or it is an item you see for a while at the grocery then, poof, it disappears from the shelves to only reappear six months later or maybe never again. So, this afternoon I made a version of a Paula Deen banana pudding recipe that I found on the Internet. If you know Paula Deen, this is not the low calorie selection for the evening.<br /><br />My housekeeper was totally on-board with the dessert fest. She helped me fill each small glass with my "surprise mousse" and then helped me with all the mixing and whipping of cream and combining of ingredients for the banana pudding. This recipe makes a lot more than I expected, so I had a goodly amount of custard left over. After filling 14 dessert dishes, I decided to get a larger dish out and fill it as well. We layered cookies, pisang (bananas), and the remaining custard. As she carefully covered each container with plastic wrap, I told her the big serving dish we had just filled was for her birthday which is tomorrow. She looked so surprised and started to giggle and repeat, "For me?". All I had to say was yes, and she quickly disappeared to the garage with the banana pudding. I am sure it went in the staff fridge out there. I hope no one touches it without her permission. It could get ugly otherwise. <br /><br />What touched me was that she was so excited by a gift we had made together. As I had considered in a much earlier post, my staff is our family here. Not only do they help us get from here to there, take care of chores, keep our belongings safe while we are out of town, but I learn about what is going on in their lives, what is happening with their families both the suka and the duka. So with love and appreciation Manisem, Salamat ulang tahun!<br /><br />The main course of the meal, shrimp creole, or as my housekeeper calls it creole udang, will be made tomorrow. I've made this dish many times before and the best part, besides eating it, is that most everything is readily available here. The only thing that gave me a scare today was not being able to find my can of Crisco shortening in the cupboard. One must have shortening to make the roux. As any self-respecting Louisianian would tell you, that is the absolute heart of the dish. I went to three different grocery stores and could only find one lonely little can of butter flavored Crisco. I somehow think that if I used it, I would be guilty of a crime against nature in Louisiana and would never be able to set foot there again. I certainly don't need any bad juju! Upon returning home and digging around in the pantry, I found my can of plain Crisco. At this point in the process if that had not happened, I would have had to resort to dinner for twelve from KFC delivered on a scooter.<br /><br />At the moment, my fridge is jammed full of beer and wine, desserts and washed lettuce and salad stuff. After tomorrow, it will be full of savory shrimp getting to know its fellow creole mates while awaiting re-heating and being served.<br /><br />I hope it will be good eats for all of our guests. Not that KFC is a bad choice, and I love when the delivery guy shows up on his scooter, but I think that might be better for another day.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2