tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-60220110840464093322024-03-14T15:39:34.799+07:00Two years in AsiaUnknownnoreply@blogger.comBlogger34125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6022011084046409332.post-48344324355965267772010-05-01T15:34:00.000+07:002018-04-03T21:15:01.121+07:00I live in the TropicsSometimes I forget, because I do not usually see monkeys or large lizards. I do, though, see coconuts everyday, and turquoise ocean every week, and now finally, I did the ultimate act of tropical life and contracted a tropical disease. I believe I have typhoid. Not a full on fever, the doctor tells me, but rather, what I translate as just a touch of typhoid. For a bit I wasn’t sure if I had typhus or tyhoid, but after some googling it was decided that it would be better to have the sickness contracted from contaminated food than the sickness carried by lice and rats. For the past few days I’ve been stuck on a couch or in bed, being cared for by my dear friends. If you have to have a fancy type of food poisoning, it doesn’t hurt to be in the tropics where the goodies your friends bring over include spicy seafood soup and fresh guava juice, but here I go again bragging about being sick…<br /><br />In any case, I am much too busy to be sick and have, in fact missed two out of my last three days of work! Today I had my first cup of coffee in a week (coming off a pretty strong addiction just in time to go back to America, land of coffee imported from here) and went to work at eight. I taught two classes of adults, one class of four year olds, and had my last tutoring session with the twelve year-old Korean- quite an exciting day for my first day back and last day teaching. I am feeling pretty good about finishing up here in Aceh, and am happy to report that great things do come in the end. My imminent departure has sparked a slew of get togethers including a trip to a freshwater pool I never knew about (there were many monkeys around…and military personnel swimming laps), and a trip to the beach with some of the roughest waves I’ve seen in awhile. It was an amazingly fun weekend, with amazingly sweet students. There couldn’t have been a better way to spend the days before crashing into my couch.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6022011084046409332.post-71452844431592049742010-03-17T14:22:00.000+07:002018-04-03T21:15:01.157+07:00Victory.Two months after returning to Banda, my housing is finally settled. After looking at boarding houses, guesthouses, and apartments- all of which fell through for various, annoying reasons- it was decided, after five minutes of looking at the house I’ve been living in since January, that I may stay. Finally! <br /><br />While my new home is a twenty-five minute drive from work, it is only a few minutes from Blangpadang, a popular park for exercising. Repaired and somewhat rebuilt after the tsunami, Blangpadang has a track, soccer fields, and basketball courts. Hull-shaped plaques with flags from each country that contributed aid encircle the park, and there is also a small plane –amongst the first in Indonesia- mounted on a cement pillar. <br />Sunday mornings Blangpadang is packed with aerobics fanatics of all ages in a multitude of colors. It is an amazing sight, hundreds of people in multi-colored track suits, veils waving around, all in time to the calls of several instructors on the central gazebo. Amped up techno music keeps everyone moving from 6:30 to around 9am, after which people flock to nearby porridge, doughnut, and beverage stands. <br /><br />Everyday, around 5:30 the track is pretty full of people walking, running, and chitchatting. There are always a few older people running barefoot. I’ve started running (always with footwear) at about this time. Banda’s intense sun finally gives way to the ocean breeze by then. I start at my house, run through the neighborhood, around the track a few times, and then back home. <br />At this pace, I’ve gotten to know the neighborhood in a way that is impossible on a motorbike. I know I am a spectacle in my neon green pants with orange racer stripes, long t-shirt, and dangling ipod. My ponytail bounces all around and I make sure to smile at those neighbors lingering around the road. My particular favorite, though, is an older woman who is almost always sitting, or lying, on a bench in a very small, open roadside restaurant. She’s usually wearing a large, floral dress, and her extremely red lipstick accents her large smile in an inviting way. We make a point of always waving and smiling as I run my course. <br /><br />A few days ago, I was trying to drag myself through a short run. This was a day where exercising seemed impossible; I was exhausted, the sun was practically yelling at me for even trying. The temptation to walk was so great but then there she was, this lovely woman just ahead of me doing the most remarkable thing. By the time I reached the stall, she had everyone up and waiting for me. I pulled my lazy body over to the sound of applause- she had orchestrated a very real standing ovation. I raised my hands up to the sky like a true athlete and thanked my audience. This is a far cry from my last house where I gave up running after being chased down by twelve-year-old boys on a motorbike.<br />This is it, victory.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6022011084046409332.post-45861580526369921592010-02-27T15:38:00.002+07:002018-04-03T21:15:01.109+07:00Happy Belated New Years (a post from when my blog was in google limbo..)Friday, December 18th, 2009 was the Muslim New Year (year 1432). But in Central Java, Thursday night was the Javanese New Year as well. This special night is strikingly different from the New Year’s celebrations in the Western world, which welcome January 1st like royalty with fanfares, fireworks, and general excess. Here, though, the New Year is coaxed in on prayer and a song sung by the Sultan and his court. The people of Yogyakarta then respectfully and silently, pray into the New Year on an hour-long walk around the old palace city. <br /><br />I expected to be overwhelmed by silence. Instead only in brief moments did I notice the quiet, and the shuffling of feet and sandals over the noise of my thoughts. In a city of motorbikes, jingling vendors, and a surplus population, the ability to walk empty streets and hear only the occasional chuckle of a tea seller, was truly extraordinary. <br /><br />It was like a marathon, the course blocked off by policemen and lined with spectators, many of whom were part of the counter culture art scene of Yogya’s many universities. Their expensive cameras with Pinocchio-like lenses, their dark rimmed glasses, and thick swooping bangs were like counter culture nametags. As the flashes went off, threatening that shy New Year, I wondered how many art projects and zine’s I would be in the next day. Why weren’t these people joining our procession? Are they not Javanese or simply too modern? This was the first time for my Javanese friend who accompanied me and he had lived in Yogya for years... <br /><br />We were, though, part of hundreds of others who diligently participate year after year. We walked amongst the young and old, people with their children and grandchildren. Batik cloth was ubiquitous and every few minutes someone would stop to swap sandals for bare feet. We moved collectively to a changing rhythm -slow, fast, slow- through streets that would be unrecognizable to the early Yogya royalty, the first to whisper in the New Year. Neon store signs illuminated asphalt and glinted off the kris (traditional dagger) of the royal, sarong-clad police ahead of me. Time seemed to stretch as we all pattered on in the procession. Pollution made way for starlight and even the children were quiet as we shuffled into early morning, each in their own thoughts, arm in arm, reflecting on the past and hopes for the future. <br /><br />It was a visible challenge for some to remain silent this long. Different from the Balinese day of silence ceremony where families stay indoors, this procession creates a visible community. Introspection is coupled with the awareness of a moving human river. All emerge together into the palace courtyard, back into the usual chatter, welcomed by warm night snacks and tea stalls. The New Year has begun.<br /><br /><br />*I found out later that some people choose to circle the palace grounds up to seven times and there are other sorts of ceremonies that occur at home, before and after the walk. I wonder what time these people got home…Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6022011084046409332.post-86782575804638797032010-02-23T13:05:00.004+07:002018-04-03T21:15:01.198+07:00How Curiosity Killed Tact: A tale of cultural similarity.There have been a few obstacles to getting this blog back, but please look forward to weekly posts. This one's rather lengthy... thanks for your patience! <br /><br /> At first I waited for it. I knew it was coming, that moment when, like a three year old, the perpetrator would become anxious, eyes would dart left then quickly right, then quickly center. Before I could intercept with a joke, tangent, or fake cell phone call, lips would rip apart in a cannon and it'd be out there. Like someone who knows they've just spit up all over my favorite sweater, they're hoping I will appease their unoriginal question, validate it -them- with an answer because, yes, they are that charming, interesting, funny, and ultimately deserving of my time and energy and trip down memory lane to explain that, no, I do not know why it happened, and no, it was not fun. In fact, I cannot imagine a scenario in which being woken up at six in the morning by gunshots to your home could possibly be enjoyable. And yet, three months later, I am still answering those questions. “You're Michelle?.” Statement-question. “ The one who's house got shot,” another statement question. Here's where the eyes start to shift around a little more and then ...“How was it?”<br /> <br />Three months ago, today, I was woken up at six am by a series of gunshots. I did not sprawl onto the floor per the news stories. I did not go running into the hallway. I stayed in bed. I waited for the gunshots to end and then realized I was awake and waited for a sign that I had actually heard something real. And, well, eventually, my housemate and I came to realize that someone had been shooting and something had been shot. I still do not know conclusively who or why and this post is certainly not the place for me to speculate. What I do know is that my neighbors got the chicken we would have had for Thanksgiving dinner and that we gave thanks anyway for the peace we still had. I also know that a story like this in the communities of Banda Aceh fuels enough curiosity to kill nearly everyone's sense of tact. <br /><br />I have tried my hardest to see this as a cultural misunderstanding. Perhaps in Acehnese culture it is acceptable, perhaps even more polite, to address and inquire after the unfortunate events in the life of a new acquaintance. Maybe ignoring the fire of a distant neighbor's house or the burglary of your friend's cousin's car would be considered quite rude. This would be, of course, gossip and what better to fill the hours of coffee consumption in which nearly every Acehnese partakes. My constant awareness of potential intercultural indiscretions is why I then take these inquisitions, introductions, and yes, annoyances, in stride and answer briefly but politely the shopkeepers, the person who met me once at a coffee shop nine months ago, and the bike mechanic. <br /> <br />But, then what is the excuse of my fellow foreigners, of my fellow Americans? The community of foreigners here is ever shrinking, but that is not to say that I am close friends with the 300-400 foreigners who still reside in the province of Aceh. What is the excuse for the cannon-like mouth opening on a new acquaintance who is casually holding a drink I poured her at a party? Is this really the place to discuss my personal disaster? And what about the man I met thirty seconds ago who is about to join my friends and me for dinner? Why is he allowed to dribble out this question? Why should I be interested in how this affected whether or not he came here to volunteer? I can only assume that this phenomenon is a testament to the power of human curiosity and the blunders into which it may take us. I also implore the man at the stationary store, and the American development worker to ask yourselves first, how would you feel?<br /> <br />Fortunately, this is what several remarkable students did just a couple days after it happened. In class together we discussed the possible motives, and more importantly, ramifications for the Acehnese and foreigner communities, the two being quite interlinked given the tumultuous politics of this region. We decided that more important than what had happened is what would happen next, and that people need to discuss just what's been going on. Three “attacks” on foreigners, all grossly inflated by the media were enough to spur NGO curfews and a cleansing of company logos off of vehicles.<br /><br />I am fortunate enough to have a journalist in my class and he took our discussion quite seriously. Instead of simply handing in the homework assignment -to write a personal narrative about the presence of foreigners in Aceh- he wrote two very positive news articles, and published them both. They are both in Indonesian (so much for the homework assignment). The first entitled ,“I am a foreigner, but I am also a Teacher”, used our classroom discussion to humanize the experience. The second, “The Children of Aceh are not Smart” (I would have picked a different title), outlines how necessary it is to have teachers here and how disastrous and embarrassing the attack was. It affirms that Aceh is peaceful and that those who attempt to disrupt the peace are a tiny minority and will not be successful. <br /><br />These articles are beautiful gestures that are a great part of why I returned to Banda after our rather forced vacation. This person -and all those students in that particular class- were willing to engage in a serious and critical discussion about the unfortunate events that happened. So here I am, three months later, answering the same questions over and over again. I take serious comfort in remembering what this student did for me, and for himself and his community. He publicly expressed his opinions, despite fear from his colleagues about the consequences. <br /> <br />I am happy to report that things here are peaceful. Today is a beautiful and sunny day and I am enjoying a cup of coffee, just as I always do. In a few minutes I will teach another class of students, several of whom will be surprised to see me back (the semester just started). I am happy to be here and look forward to the rest of my time in Banda.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6022011084046409332.post-43824211235285999722010-01-20T13:12:00.001+07:002018-04-03T21:15:01.102+07:00A Strange Day in Penayung aka China TownToday, I tried to eat lunch at the nameless alleyway restaurant that caters to Christians and foreigners by serving such rareties as pork and a delicious iced tea. It was full of military men in uniform. With large automatic guns, appetites. and loud mouths. So I did not eat there today. Instead, I went past their empty, green truck, and around the corner to a noodle cart with a name, attached to a coffee shop also full –but less full- of somewhat less rambunctious soldiers. These men were all on a few hours of vacation from military training in a town not too far away (the last time I heard about a military training was while staring at a charred shack on the pristine beach- they were apparently doing an anti-terrorism training) and chose to spend their break here, in China town (dubbed as such by the foreigners). <br /> Over my iced coffee I can see a Church, complete with clock and cross. In front of me are several active games of mah-jong and the menu includes Ifumie and Mie Tiaw Kuah. Other places in this part of town have Buddha statues with small pillars of burning incense. The women wear their long hair uncovered, and there is light bare skin all around. While all Chinese-Indonesians speak Indonesian, some also speak “Chinese” but there’s no distinguishing between Mandarin, Cantonese, or any other dialect. <br /> This part of town seems to be sectioned off more or less by religion and minority status, as it seems predominantly non-Muslim. There are many Christians also of Batak descent (the Batak come from Central Sumatera around the Lake Toba area) in this area as well. The nameless pork restaurant is run by a Batak family and the alleyway bar (that I was very recently taken to by a friend) is run by Batak women. During my one and only trip to this particular place I was very pleased to be serenaded by a very loud, and mostly in tune chorus of men singing Batak songs with one guitar players and a round (or several) of drinks. The joint was dim, small, at the end of a dark alleyway and full of men having a good time. It was great. I am told there is a Chinese-run brewery behind another Church but as of this post, I have not yet had the occasion to find it. Rumor has it that too much of this liquor can cause blindness.<br /> While I always enjoy my time – and noodles- in this part of town, it was quite unusual to see so many military men today. It was a clear reminder of the division of duties between the military (national government) and local religious police. Despite the reports from the foreign press, I have only ever interacted with the former. Like me, they are from other cities and seeking out comfort food where they can find it.<br /><br />More to come soon.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6022011084046409332.post-28263490885343167732009-12-31T06:55:00.003+07:002018-04-03T21:15:01.075+07:00ThanksThanks to Julie's amazing networking abilities and the genius of Darren Lewis, my google account has been reactivated! I'm in snowy Reno, Nevada for a few more days and then will be flying back to Indonesia. Check back for new posts and a whole heap of photos very soon! Happy holidays!Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6022011084046409332.post-23414617459554620502009-06-19T14:27:00.000+07:002018-04-03T21:15:01.070+07:00Hello, um, Security?I wonder just what it means to be “toughing it out.” As a foreign woman, there seems to be a lot of pressure to maintain your Western independence, to be able to be out and about unaccompanied. I am in awe of my friends who bicycle late at night alone, and persist despite harassment issues. I get to ride my motorbike and zoom past heckles and cat calls. I’ve only had someone follow me once and I think I may have accidentally motorbike flirted (or perhaps that’s extending the benefit of the doubt...). <br /> I’ve written before about the distinct divide between NGO neighborhoods and my own, and often envied their more care free communities. Alternatively, those neighborhoods make for profitable pockets of foreigners and much of the crime and harassment I hear about happens there. I was told today there’s a specific street where the majority of foreigner-targeted theft occurs. It’s a block from the military base. The thief can run back to the safety of the compound if he gets caught. <br /> I really have enjoyed having a women’s house this year. In contrast to my predominately male house last year, it’s well decorated, mostly clean, and we employ a gardener. We can have women friends over and with that big wall in the back, even lounge in a tank top. But I still get scared at night when those branches are rustling. I can’t help thinking against all my Western-born independence that I wish there was a man around the house. Maybe then the neighbors would stop taking our mangos.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6022011084046409332.post-20608468167790455352009-04-27T07:42:00.000+07:002018-04-03T21:15:01.065+07:00A Simple UpdateI haven’t written for quite sometime, though this is not for want of activity. Things here are as busy as ever. On March 16th, Sarah and I opened a small English library above our office space where we loan out magazines, books, and DVDs with the idea that the library would become a resource center and center for activity. In less than a month a lot has happened. We recently picked five student interns who are all eager and enthusiastic in helping us organize the space and student activities. Because it has been so popular, we are already moving to a larger space. We’ll also be hosting a discussion table where other foreigners lead discussions with students on a topic of their choice. Our first such event will be on Monday, April 27th and will about marriage in the past and present here and in the west. It’s a topic many students are interested and I personally am really looking forward to it. Jesse will also be “digitizing” the library with a computer the Language Center is letting us have. Things are really going well with the space and I’m eager to see all the wonderful ideas of our interns materialize in the coming months. <br /> Since I know I never really reported on my travels, here’s a quick summary of my recent trip to Kuala Lumpur. Since this was the third short stay Carlos and I have had there, things have become much easier. KL is already a very easy city to navigate, so we were really free to just get along with business and have a good time. We stayed in a different part of town (last time we stayed in raucous and touristy Chinatown) called Bukti Bintang which is, yes, still touristy, but with a different less party-like scene. We stayed in the Atapsana guesthouse with was really a wonderful space. The entire guesthouse was filled with Ikea furniture and Malaysian decorations which made it feel like the apartment of an American traveler. It was really quiet but also surrounded by Middle-Eastern, Arabic, and European food which was all fantastic. We spent a good deal of time in embassies, which we are now incredibly adept at finding. Carlos got a new Indonesian visa while I got my China visa (I’m going at the end of June, yay!). Mostly, we spent our time enjoying the luxuries of a big city: shopping malls, movie theaters, international food, and a Malaysian Philharmonic. This last attraction was something I had really been looking forward to. The Malaysian Philharmonic is actually located on the second floor of the famous Petronas Towers and demands all the respect a pair of glittering skyscrapers assume. The dresscode for men was lounge suit or long-sleeved batik and for women seemed to be anything from smart suit to ballgown. Since Carlos owned neither of his options, he had to borrow both shoes and coat from the ushers. While we though this to be funny enough, the long line of both westerners and locals returning borrowed clothing was also qutie a site. <br /> The concert itself was really pretty good (they played two Symphonies by Hadyn and one by another composer), but almost equally interesting was the makeup of the orchestra itself. It was really quite striking to see nearly all white faces in an orchestra in the heart of Malaysia. The conductor is from Amsterdam as well as a good deal of the musicians. There were also several guest Russian musicians for this particular concert. All-in-all a really nice night.<br /> So here I am back in Aceh with two months left till summer. Things here are changing all the time and in two months I expect them to be quite different once again. It seems like a strange deadline though, sixty days for me to learn enough about Aceh (culture and language) to be able to teach next year’s fellows, complete semester activities, be able to play my instrument for seven minutes straight (we’re planning a concert), figure out travel plans, and hopefully get an art show up and running. Phew. That’s a lot to accomplish when what I’m really enjoying in the new season’s heat is sitting here my sugary glass of iced-tea.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6022011084046409332.post-82777050366764644962009-03-16T15:49:00.002+07:002018-04-03T21:15:01.187+07:00Opening NightI approximate that on some days food consumes up to 80% of my daily thoughts. I not so secretly harbor a dream of one day owning my own bed and breakfast with gardens and a bakery. This weekend, I was able to combine all of my daydreams in an incredible marathon of cooking. For Sarah’s birthday ten of us decided to spend the weekend celebrating at Casa Nemo’s- the guesthouse where Carlos just started helping. Though only two weeks into the job, we thought this would be an excellent opportunity to try out his new menu with an audience trustworthy for dependable feedback. As if putting together a gourmet menu isn’t hard enough, try it in a new country with the idea of local cooking and a staff that speaks little of your language and you speak even less of theirs. Despite all of this, Carlos put together a fantastic menu (which I will list soon) and two days before the unveiling had yet to try than more than one dish. To my gentle suggestions he insisted that he “knows what they taste like in his head.” And, of course, he was absolutely correct. He and I were in the kitchen almost the entire three days of the trip, with one night of sleep the first night and a few more the next two. In that time, we made bread, several cakes, and prepped for his great new menu. I chopped lots of things, helped assemble, and baked a few cakes, but the magic was all Carlos’. I knew he was amazing in a kitchen, but watching him in action, handling three hot pans and plate dishes simultaneously, I couldn’t help but be even more impressed. Since this was just the first run of the menu – which everyone loved- things are bound to get better and better. Carlos plans to keep evolving the menu to make it as local as possible and include innovations from both himself and the other cook Ibu Ida.<br /> Even though it was an incredible amount of work, we had a really good time and even found some moments to celebrate along with our friends. The beach at Casa Nemo’s is truly beautiful and the few minutes we had in the ocean were incredibly refreshing. We even managed to have a small bonfire on Sarah’s birthday night. All in all, congratulations to Carlos for starting something truly wonderful.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6022011084046409332.post-72281966628346717542009-03-16T15:47:00.000+07:002018-04-03T21:15:01.163+07:00JackpotI’ve finally found my way to traditional culture in Aceh, and then some. Not only am I learning surunikali from my teacher, but he introduces me into these new places where it seems everyone’s into the arts and I must have been blind not to have seen, heard, or felt it everywhere. I will say it’s been difficult to find contemporary movements (outside of the awful rock music that copies America’s embarrassing Top 10’s), but lately I’ve been attending practices where all presuppositions and ill-conceived cultural biases are dispelled in the wake of focused teenage women. If I had been dancing in front of five college-aged musicians my concentration would be no match for my huge crushes. But, instead, here were young women-most veiled but some not due to the heat- working intensely on an excellent blend of contemporary and traditional dance. But not only that, the five musicians – surrounded by twice as many instruments- were happily creating the powerful and largely percussive accompaniment. These were anything but separate happenings. At moments musicians would stop everything to alter a section and vice versa, but everyone somehow knew if things were right with the music or the dance and how they fit together. Hit the drum like this, hold that move longer – calls could be made from anyone, despite age or position until everything blended together. It was an amazing process of creation. I’ve seen this once before in Java, where we created a melody while dancers simultaneously created a dance. A co-authored performance. I have never seen this in America – though no doubt it exists- so for me, coming from the world of music chosen for a dance, and dances made to pre-composed music, this is exciting and extraordinary, the result strong and beautiful. Despite the hard work and some apparent frustrations, all that was left by the end were happy, tired faces, and toddlers dancing giddily in the hallway.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6022011084046409332.post-19648916415692712852009-02-27T14:49:00.001+07:002018-04-03T21:15:01.058+07:00The New Neighbors...Today we were invited to a cultural performance exchange put on by the University for a group of visiting Koreans. Most of the visitors were here for a week-long program, culminating in several dance and musical performances. There were also a couple traditional Acehnese dances with musical accompaniment- this was the first time I’d gotten to see these things in person and they were wonderful. There was one particularly amazing performance, though, by a Tae-kwon do champion. He performed what I had only before seen in movies. He broke tiles with his hand, kicked cups full of candy off the heads of his students, and leaped over several students to kick something or other perched high atop another head. All this to cheers of admiration by the audience of foreigners and Indonesians alike. This is our new neighbor (well, relatively close by) who moved here a week ago with his wife, two sons, and daughter. It was a pretty amazing introduction to this new family. Hopefully, we’ll be seeing a lot more of them in the future – not just in sparring attire. <br />Incidentally, Sarah, Jesse and I were also introduced during speeches as the three visiting Americans who are also participating in cultural exchange. This speech was given by the assistant Rector of the University who has been a huge help recently in aiding us to find what we’ve been looking for at UnSyiah (which for me has been a recent connection to the arts department). His speech highlighted the importance of such exchanges and how we as a community should work to make these things more widely accessible (he lamented the fact that this particular performance was held in a tiny auditorium and little publicized). Hopefully, more will happen in the future. It was nice to hear a University spokesperson support, essentially, our purpose here as Shansi fellows when often that particular purpose is lost in a realm of unsolicited classes for which we are not always the most qualified. <br />As for the Acehnese performances, they were pretty amazing. I’ve just started learning how to play the Surunikali which is somewhere between an oboe and a clarinet. I’ve had one class so far (and will have my second today) where we spent nearly three hours working on circular breathing (where you play continuously, breathing in through your nose while breathing out through your mouth into the instrument). Today I got to see my teacher perform with three drum players as accompaniment for a women’s dance performance. And, sure enough, he played continuously the entire performance. The dancers looked like painted versions of the women I see everyday. There is a history behind all of the current Acehnese culture and these performances are the evidence. I hope to find out more about this past very soon.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6022011084046409332.post-65671878755566437972009-02-18T09:46:00.000+07:002018-04-03T21:15:01.151+07:00Resolve.I’m back, laden from travels, not with memorabilia and knick-knacks, but dirty clothes and many resolutions. I know, I haven’t even talked about my trip yet (by the way, we went to Kuala Lumpur, Bangkok, and Siem Reap), but I will, and right now these current thoughts are more important to get to you, if you’re still reading and checking for updates. Along these lines, one of my vows is to write at least biweekly given I am in Aceh, and hopefully even if I’m not. That said, I returned to Banda Aceh last night (Sunday) and am now sitting on my comfortable couch looking out at my partially demolished backyard. It’s full of ridiculously large pieces of wood, a ten-foot tree trunk, and rubbish. All this fenced in by our castle wall. Luckily, both Kristi and I have returned from our trip with new domestic resolve and a great urge to landscape. Hopefully we’ll be using those strewn about pieces to create a beautiful garden. And, by the time any of you visit, that cement wall will be cheerily painted and adorned in passion fruit vines. Also luckily, the bulbs I planted right before leaving have sprouted up a good foot and a half, so at least some things have been growing. We’ve got quite a bit of work to do, but it’s all exciting.<br /><br />But back to those resolutions. Next to me, I have the Oberlin Shansi annual report in which there are descriptions from all my senior fellows all around Asia telling of their experiences and feelings of connectedness within their respective communities. While I am happy for them and look forward to a similar feeling, I am a bit sad recognizing how I am not yet at that point. Every two months since leaving the USA, my life has changed pretty drastically. I look forward to this next semester –which has little more than an occasional three-day weekend holiday- as a chance to really and truly set down roots. I came here for two years to give myself a chance to understand a new community and to be a part of it. And while in any context the one semester I’ve been here would never be enough to truly feel connected, I am still impatient for that moment to arrive. I hope to find my niche this semester-whether it’s with the ladies at a new aerobics class I tried with Sarah or with a music group I hope to join soon, or maybe I’ll finally find those windsurfers that have disappeared with the onset of the rainy season. Either way, I will be improving my Bahasa Indonesia and working much harder on many aspects of my social and work life. More about my trip and Aceh to come very very soon.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6022011084046409332.post-77815954690020346102009-01-10T13:19:00.000+07:002018-04-03T21:15:01.175+07:00One Moat PleaseI wrote about the wonderful mornings I have with my oatmeal, coffee and newspaper, looking out into my jungly backyard, the early sunlight mingling with tropical bird songs. Today, though, the sun is a bit dimmer, and I hear a howling cat. There are still palm fronds but their trunks and fruit are hiding behind the newly built eight foot wall in our yard. The lush Tapioca trees have been trimmed into stick figures. They look like models in front of grey cement backdrops. Though this wall is meant to keep the unwanted men out, there are five in the yard now. We’ve had perhaps one week without workers in our yard the entire time I’ve been here. While today we still close the blinds and wear modest clothing in the house, hopefully, eventually, all this work will mean a bit of privacy. My worry, though, is that by building such an exceptionally tall wall we do more than keep the out the unwanted. There have been many discussions about how a typical Acehnese neighborhood is extremely close and beyond friendly. How can we hope to build a sense of community with a wall only a dragon can climb? Fortunately, the wall is only in the back and part of one side of the house. The rest of the sides and the front have a low iron fence. I believe the idea was to keep out the back neighbors because of some rather unfortunate instances last year. It’s still quite strange though. For me, this wall says we have something to hide more than it offers protection. To ebb the walled in fortress sense, we plan to paint some murals once the cement has dried. Hopefully there will be enough passion fruit vines and painting to make it feel a bit more like a secret garden than locked away Repunzel.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6022011084046409332.post-82921954531791725182008-12-24T14:16:00.001+07:002018-04-03T21:15:01.192+07:00Whew, happy holidays.On Tuesday, I taught my last class before the holidays! Yay! While I love my job, I am very ready for a vacation (I know, I know, I’ve already had vacations..). On Friday, ten of us are going to a nearby lake for the holidays. It’s higher in the mountains, so a bit chillier in order to somehow mimic the winter holiday feeling. Lake Toba is a twelve hour bus ride and a two hour car ride away, and I’m very excited. My whole house is going, plus Jesse, Carlos, and a few other friends. We’re staying at a hotel attached to a German bakery that includes breakfast, which I can only hope means pastries every morning.<br /> On Sunday, we had a little holiday celebration of our own. We lit candles on coconuts, and Sarah and I cooked latkes, peroshkies, gingered carrots, green beans, and a blintz casserole. It was all delicious, and even better as leftovers. Tomorrow we’re going to a friend’s house for Christmas brunch and then spending the afternoon baking cookies with our Acehnese women friends. So, it’s the holidays full of food as usual. <br /> Life here has been busy as usual. I still feel like I’m not completely settled in (mainly because our house is constantly under construction) but I’m definitely getting to know Aceh more. Carlos and I spent the day at the beach on Monday, which was completely deserted and beautiful. We ate freshly caught and barbecued fish in a wooden hut, read, and splashed around in the turquoise water. It was a pretty great day. On Tuesday, Sarah and I went to aerobics. I’d heard stories about this wonderful class, but this was the first time I’d actually experienced it. I’ve never seen so much spandex outside of an ‘80’s workout tape. It was pretty incredible and I plan on going weekly. I myself wore purple spandex tights (recycled from Halloween) and a tank top and felt overdressed. It was amazing to see the transformation from fully clothed and covered Acehnese women to sweaty barely clothed aerobics women. I learn something new here everyday.<br />Happy Holidays!Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6022011084046409332.post-47650523655032518042008-12-13T09:10:00.001+07:002018-04-03T21:15:01.116+07:00Just a little quieter- but only on the surface.Since the last time I wrote I have:<br />-Gone to Sabong (a city on the island an hour from Banda Aceh) for some nice swimming and some yoga (really, I know...)<br />-Had a fantastic Thanksgiving at our house with Acehnese and foreign friends (four pies, two chickens, stuffing, corn, rolls...mmmm)<br />-Gone to Jakarta to meet up with Carlos, and have a great weekend exploring a city that is intimidating large. Ten million people live in that city!<br />-Come back to Banda Aceh to find the addition on our house almost completed, but potentially incapable of housing Jesse because of gender and community dynamics...<br />-Found out who the two new fellows for next year will be! Wow! Looking forward to meeting you Patrick Hung and Sarah Willis.<br />-Started teaching again, though only theoretically because the one-day national religious holiday becomes over a week long, culturally.<br />-Helped Carlos move to three different homes in slightly over a week.<br />-Gone back to that same island, but to the other side, for the extended holiday to experience beautiful snorkeling, a leaky roof, lots and lots of mosquitoes, and the most beautiful balcony view I’ve yet to see- from a hammock. <br /><br /> So now here I am, half an hour from a literature class I haven’t taught in three weeks because of extended religious and personal holidays, with only five out of my 17 students actually showing up (because they’ve decided the holidays are even longer, I suppose). So much has changed, as usual, in this short period of time. I’m exploring Banda Aceh all over again (not that I’d nearly figured it out yet) this time with Carlos. Things are quieter and calmer with a male friend around. We still get stares, but certainly less heckling and honking horns. During that first week with him here, I’d forgotten how difficult Banda could be for a woman alone. It wasn’t until a couple days ago that I walked around alone again, and was reminded of just how noisy and harsh it can sometimes be. Unfortunately, just because things seem quieter with Carlos (or Jesse, or any other man next to me), it only means that all those words become quiet whispers behind closed doors and windows. These whispers, though, always find their way back around, and I’m realizing that being open about a relationship here, doesn’t necessarily make it easier. This is a learning experience for everyone that we are definitely starting to figure out. As with everything, though, it takes time.<br /> I will admit that timing is simultaneously good and bad. It happens that right around now there is quite a bit of vacation time. In two more weeks, it’ll be Christmas, and New Years, which means two more weeks of vacation. About two weeks after that is the semester break. All this means a lot of travel time potentially out of Banda Aceh. However, right now, is also a fairly critically time at home. Catherine moved out the week I left for Jakarta, but also right after they’d started construction on Jesse’s new home- a two-room addition to our home. The trouble with this is that it is quite untypical to have unmarried men and women living together- many foreign NGO workers have successfully done this, but by isolating themselves in foreigner dominated neighborhoods. Each Acehnese neighborhood has community head (the gajik) whose job it is to protect each person and to function as a mediator. It was our duty to report to this person as new members and, more importantly, this person should have approved the construction of Jesse’s “separate”- yet connected- home. While it has been quite some time since these things were somewhat neglected, reparations are in process. And, hopefully, everything will work out in the end- especially since next year we will definitely have another male fellow coming to join us. <br /> As usual, things in Aceh are exciting, challenging, and ever changing. It is rainy season in Aceh. While this translates to wetter, cooler weather, the rain’s power to bring life is evident all around- in the plant life that is flourishing (we have a small vegetable garden that’s growing quickly) and in the baby animals all around. The seasons are changing, and life here adapts- for people included.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6022011084046409332.post-15101931643051847162008-11-12T10:22:00.000+07:002018-04-03T21:15:01.041+07:00The Indonesia PhenomenonThis title is only partly true. More accurately, there seems to be an American phenomenon concerning family. While in America, I’ve always enjoyed my independence, and touted myself as someone who needs “alone time.” And while I would never relinquish my moments of solitude, anywhere in the world, my appreciation and desire for a close family is never greater than when I am away. It seems to be a truly American phenomenon where each member of the family is off on their own for most hours of the day and night and weekly or monthly phone calls become more than sufficient contact. Very rarely have I met families who call each other daily (or several times daily). Instead, this has become some quaint quality in “traditional” families (and yet something quaint is never so desired as to be adopted by the majority). But abroad- while my experience is admittedly limited- everyone else seems to understand that family is really the most important of human relationships. I will not allow this observation to hang so close to the surface as to ignore that yes, there are bad families. If a wife wants to leave an abusive husband, she might be successful, or because family is everything here, she may lose it all- home, pride, respect, and children. But in a very traditional family, if one is lucky enough to still have parents and grandparents, there is always help to go to, and chances are all of those family members still live nearby if not on the same property. How lucky to be able to walk ten yards and be welcomed by your mother- and only ten more to find your grandmother. I’ve been told numerous times that to have a small family here would just be lonely. People scoff at the idea of permanently moving somewhere more than a days drive from their parents. All of this is so against an American perspective of the ideal family unit where family members spread the continent, if not the world. What is interesting, though, is that even though all the Americans I meet here are just as independent as I am, we all have this shared nostalgia for a past American culture we never actually saw. I love my new life here, if only Indonesia was next door to Reno. Sometimes this world seems much too small, but right now it seems awfully large.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6022011084046409332.post-3135732647633578012008-11-03T13:19:00.000+07:002018-04-03T21:15:01.081+07:00Since I’ve been in Aceh...While I will not claim that my entire lifestyle has changed since moving to Banda Aceh, my perspective on living it is quite different. For the first time in a very long while, I have a permanent home for two consecutive years. Everything I buy is an investment into this space that I will be inhabiting and helping to improve, and making it into truly my space. I also realize that every subsequent year others will also live here, and at one point, I no longer will. But for the time being, I can buy plants, and put them in a garden, I can buy kitchen equipment knowing I’ll want it for years. I have a job and a contract for that job, and so automatically have a semi-permanent position – and purpose. Because I started teaching only days after I’d arrived, I was thrown into the lifestyle I will effectively maintain for quite some time. Consequently, even though I only today found a shop five minutes away from my house, I feel as though I’ve been here for months and months. It amazes me that I’ve only been here a few weeks. <br /> Since moving to Aceh, I’ve gained ten years, which still makes me ten or twenty years younger than my literature students- my very favorite class. My youngest students are only 18 and 19 and also loads of fun. These students are just beginning their college career and eager to discuss anything they can possibly find the vocabulary for expressing- dating, religion, governmental corruption, and the latest fashion. I also teach new teachers, and while this class is an intensive and free course for teachers who want to eventually pursue their masters, these classes are notoriously poorly attended. In the past two weeks, though, my class size has doubled. I can only hope this is because they are entertained and learning, and not just because their schedules freed up. In any case, it’s nice to have new faces- even if they are several weeks, and continuously at least twenty minutes late. <br /> More to come later...Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6022011084046409332.post-58485863792150787602008-10-22T15:42:00.002+07:002018-04-03T21:15:01.135+07:00Don't forget to shower!A friend reminded me of this story I wanted to share, a bit of insight. In America we like to make small talk with things like "how are you?" "what's new?" In Indonesia, people also like to ask if you've bathed yet. It really is just in passing, but here most people do shower twice a day (you can get pretty hot and sticky). This question, though more just for chit chat, can sometimes be embarrassing if you answer honestly and, well, just don't feel like bathing yet again. Anyway, here in Aceh, we give our students our cell phone numbers for assignment questions, resulting in some pretty humorous text messages. The second day of school, I received, "Hello Miss Michelle, have you bathed yet?" I decided it would be more professional not to reply...Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6022011084046409332.post-41079649683713464162008-10-22T13:39:00.000+07:002018-04-03T21:15:01.095+07:00Coffee and Mango SconesThis morning Sarah and I woke up just before six to go on a short run through the neighborhood. The sun was still rising, the sky still cloudy from a night of rain. Only mothers and polite men are up this early, making for a peaceful run. I did my first attempt at baking here today and am now enjoying my scone from our own mango tree and that of a friend. The coffee I’m drinking Sarah roasted herself on a trip to Flores. Maybe the butter is imported, but otherwise, this is a pretty local breakfast. Perhaps more importantly, waking up to run and actually having the time and energy to bake, makes me feel like I’ve really settled in here. Yes, I still need to study a map and have yet to see the ocean (which I think is only 15 minutes away), but all these things will come with time. Sarah says there’s a three-week settling in period, so I still get another week and a half...<br /><br />I always hoped I’d get to have loungey breakfasts with scone and coffee in hand, listening to music and looking out at the greenery. But I hadn’t imagined they’d be coconut trees and tropical plants, and the paper in my hand would be mostly for show-since I can’t quite read it just yet.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6022011084046409332.post-17392133649632414662008-10-16T17:30:00.002+07:002018-04-03T21:15:01.048+07:00Creating HomeI've been in Banda Aceh one week today! After vacation I had one day in Yogya before I set off for Aceh. That one day was spent doing all sorts of shopping and errand running in preparation, but also just enjoying the city for one last day (until next time that is). While I do feel busy here, I'm not overwhelmed and am really enjoying getting to know the city, little by little. I live in a beautiful house with three other women: Kristy (a volunteer for the American group Volunteers in Asia, she's teaching at a high school run by the University here), Catherine (an Austrailian anthropologist doing research for her PhD), and Sarah (the other Shansi fellow already here for a year). We all, unsurprisingly, get along very well and last night spent the evening doing yoga together in our living room... The house itself has four bedrooms, one real bathroom, a kitchen, and even a screened sitting room facing our lush back yard. Pretty soon, we'll be setting up a garden. Our house is also five minutes from classes by foot which is amazingly convenient.<br /> While everyone seemed to think Aceh would be an enormous shock, I feel I'm settling in really comfortably. I'm sure this is mostly because of my two cofellows, Sarah and Jesse, and their amazing advice and willingness to explain just about everything. I also recognize that I have yet to do much more than work and sit at home, so have much exploring and learning to do. Living with a researcher and teacher who have been here a year has been enormously helpful and interesting in providing varied perspectives. I get to hear all about the political climate and little cultural facets I'd definitely never hear about if my housemate's job wasn't to constantly observe, record, and critically analyze.<br /> As usual, life is always exciting. My second or third day here was a tremendous event in Indonesian history. Hasan di Tiro (possibly misspelling..) returned to Aceh for the first time in decades. The exiled head of the separatist movement, his return is mostly a symbol of Aceh's newly found stabilization (whew). While I couldn't make it to his speech, we did take a walk the night before to find the streets packed with people planning to camp out, that's how excited the city was. <br /> As for teaching, I started on Monday, and my work week ends on Saturday. I'm teaching three speaking classes -each meets twice a week- and one literature class (yay!). My students range from first year undergraduates to professors, so I really have the whole range which is super interesting and fun. <br /> Of course, I could go on for pages about all the interesting nuances of life here, but I'll save that for later... oh, and pictures soon from vacation and from Aceh (my battery charger never arrived, but Sarah coincidentally has the same charger, yippee!!!) .Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6022011084046409332.post-61289559867621692402008-09-25T17:20:00.002+07:002018-04-03T21:15:01.143+07:00Ramadan Party time!I apologize that I have so far neglected to talk about Ramadan here in Yogya, and, well, I'm going to leave it out just a bit longer. Today we're leaving for Nusapaneda, an island off of Bali, for a week of internet-free, nature-filled vacation. Ramadan is nearing an end, so everyone is off to visit family and friends and celebrate this Muslim holdiay while we'll be in Bali celebrating an important Hindu one instead. I'll be back on the 1st, and photos are coming!Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6022011084046409332.post-7929634570838710642008-09-20T09:26:00.003+07:002018-04-03T21:15:01.180+07:00One more week, it's a flip-flop.I have only one more week left in Yogyakarta before I head out for a bit a travel and then for my move to Banda Aceh. My time here as been pretty amazing , and I've learned so much about language, life, and culture. As with anywhere, the location in which you learn colors the experience. This is particularly true here where Javanese culture and pride permeates most everything. Pretty soon I'll get to find out if all those little things I thought were Indonesian were really just a matter of island. Not only will I be reconfiguring my own stereotypes but matching up those of Indonesians here in Yogya as well. I've gotten to hear a wide variety of Aceh praise and criticism. Most good things I've heard have to do with the food which is supposed to be incredibly fresh, seafood based, and wildly spicy. The negative is really centered around religion. A lot of people here seem somewhat afraid to even visit there for fear of being subjected to Sharia law. I've been able to explain that when I'm there I won't have to wear a veil, but I don't know the situation for Javanese people. I believe if your identification card (which has a mandatory section for religion) says your are Muslim, then you must abide by these laws, even if you are a Muslim from another island. However, every person I've heard say something negative about Banda Aceh has never actually been there and every foreigner who has loves it. My current expectations are to build my spice tolerance, drink a lot of very good coffee, eat even more fish, enjoy the nearby beaches and countryside, and have to work to keep up with their faster paced Indonesian.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6022011084046409332.post-31545852735007228942008-09-12T09:55:00.002+07:002018-04-03T21:15:01.089+07:00Tongue TiedTry this new one: Kaki kaka kakekku kaku-kaku = The knee of the brother of my grandfather is stiff. <br /> plural: Kaki-kaki kaka-kaka kakek-kakekku kaku-kaku....Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6022011084046409332.post-74242056358718137992008-09-11T10:12:00.000+07:002018-04-03T21:15:01.169+07:00Who needs help?This is a quick entry as I’m a bit in a rush. But, I finally got some answers to a long-standing question of mine. Here in Yogyakarta, most homes have servants- or house helpers (pambantus)- usually live-in. In my homestay there are two permanant people and two who seem to come in and out. Though the legal working age is 15, pambantus often are even younger. If they live there, they are on duty 24hours a day, even during Ramadan. I have been wondering what would make a child or teenager be a pambantu if even as a homeless kid they could receive some kind of free public education and housing. Today I had a long conversation with one of my language teachers who explained that to be a street kid could have an even worse reputation and a pretty terrible quality of life, presumably in the children’s shelters. Pambantus occasionally are permitted to go to school, but usually just work until married (this applies to woman only I think). When I asked how someone who works 24hrs a day could possibly find a spouse, she told me there are pambantu communities that put on a variety of activities including meetings about worker’s rights and equality. My teacher’s husband is a professor of gender and worker’s rights at one of the Universities here and was invited to lecture at one of these meetings. Her own one pambantu lives in a separate house with pretty self defined work hours. While we agreed that this system of hired help is much better (which means I can’t blame this bias totally on my western mindset!), I will admit that the pambantus at my homestay seem like part of the family, albeit a very hardworking part. But there’s no denying that whether or not they are part of the family this also means they’re not at school, and instead of reading or drawing or gossiping on the phone, they’re cleaning and working from early morning to late at night.<br /><br />Here’s short grammar lesson too:<br /><br />Tanda Tangan = signature<br />Me+ tanda tangan + i = menandatangani = to sign many things<br />Me + tanda tangan + kan = manandatangankan = to sign for someone<br /><br />This is what makes my head want to explode...Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6022011084046409332.post-55827608577297131722008-09-03T10:04:00.001+07:002018-04-03T21:15:01.128+07:00Smile like a Bule.So I know that I smile a lot and that it’s pretty easy to make me laugh. Turns out, this is internationally true. Here in Indonesia, I was told that I am different from the foreigners because I smile a lot and all the foreigners look grumpy and upset, or at least not that happy. But today I realized that, just like all the other foreigners, when I am alone and walking around town, I look at the ground, avoid eye contact, and rarely smile. I ignore hellos in English altogether or respond in Indonesian, seeing even simple greetings as a subtle harassment because I am foreign, I am a bule (pronounced buleh). I do all these things because I do not want to attract attention-usually male- and because in other countries I’ve learned that simple eye contact can mean flirting. But thanks to my Indonesian friend, I realized that we’ve all created a negative cycle where the foreigners are scared to smile and then the locals just think we’re unfriendly and unhappy. I was advised to smile more and let myself be comfortable. I did mention that usually my fear is more acute at night when there are men around, and my fears of that were confirmed. He said that if harassed I should feel free to use force (my friend knows I played rugby). I shouldn’t really ever be out alone in the dark anyway and I’m not for the most part (it also gets dark here at about 6pm though so on occasion it’s unavoidable). Since this conversation I’ve been trying out this new tactic of being at least somewhat friendlier, and less worried. So far so good.<br /> On a side note, I went to another Jatilan, and this time we got to sit on stage. It was amazing, and way scarier than the sidelines. I also got pulled into the dance – something that usually happens to men. I had a suspicion that by sitting right up front I’d be pulled in and then, well, there I was, terrified, not knowing what to do with a hundred eyes on me. The dancer had his scarf around me and mostly I just stood there looking scared, I have no idea how a woman is supposed to behave in that situation. Eventually I was released and ran back to my sit. My friend got a couple photos of me looking like a scared tourist; I’ll put those up soon. <br /> I’ve been spending some time a bit outside the city in a farm area, which has been a relief. Though only fifteen minutes from my house, the air is cleaner, everything is quieter, and there are delicious tomatoes and peanuts to eat. I also got another driving lesson there away from traffic. Yesterday, though, I drove in the city for the first time, and while no one was injured, I did accidentally pop a wheelie...Unknownnoreply@blogger.com3