Tis the Season...?

Sitting in my living room in shorts and a T-shirt with the windows open trying to catch a breeze to cool my perspiring body was not the ideal setting for writing Christmas cards. There is a lot to be said for the lead up to Christmas to get you in the festive mood, and I have not had that preparation in the eternal summer that is Indonesia. I’m sure all of you at home hiding from the cold in the heated comfort of your homes are thinking “yea, whatever Kelsey, I would gladly take your 90 degree weather” and I have to say it’s pretty nice; but, honestly it just isn’t Christmas. So, since it doesn’t feel like the season to sing carols or decorate a tree or drink steaming hot chocolate while watching the Bel Air parade; tis the season to travel. Exams at SMK 1 begin this Friday, which means that my duties as an ETA are finished for the semester. The two weeks of exams coupled with the ten day semester break leaves me with about three weeks to do what I want, and I want to see the rest of this country. This Friday I will travel to Medan, a city in Sumatra just north of Pekanbaru, and I will spend nine days exploring that region including the Bukit Lawang Orangutan conservatory, and Lake Toba, the largest lake in Asia that is situated inside the crater of an ancient volcano. I will then travel to the island of Java and spend Christmas with some of my best friends; although I’m not sure if an actual plan for this leg of the trip has been secured. We will finish up our tour with a boat ride to Bali where we will meet up with even more ETA’s and spend New Years in style, American style at least. I am more than excited for my journey to begin, and I will try my hardest to update everyone while I am away. In the spirit of packing light I will not be taking my laptop, so if you don’t receive e mails for awhile please do not worry. I will have my cell phone so if anyone feels the need to check in with me you are more than welcome to call 62 0821 1036 2282. I wish you all a Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year! XOXO

Bulehs in Bunaken

If you asked me at this time last year what I would be doing for Thanksgiving in one year, I never in my wildest dreams would I have answered “oh, I’ll most likely be cooking Thanksgiving dinner in a kitchen on a remote island where I can hear the waves with a few good friends that I haven’t met yet;” however, that’s exactly what I was doing.  Thanksgiving morning instead of watching the Macy’s parade, nine of us boarded a boat with a dread-locked and tattooed Indonesian to travel to the Seabreeze resort on Bunaken Island.  The boat ride itself was fantastic with gorgeous mountain views and sea chantey sing alongs; but, it was made even more fantastic by the fact that as we got closer to shore we could look into the crystal blue water at coral reefs. We were greeted by Terry, the Australian owner of Seabreeze, and after settling into our family bungalow a few of us went to work cooking Thanksgiving dinner which was punctuated by swim breaks in the ocean that surged directly under our kitchen. Cooking dinner was a challenge in an Indonesian kitchen without an oven or large range; but, we pulled it together and the Ibu-Ibu who cook in the resort were gracious enough to cook our chickens over an open fire for us.  We shared our tradition with Terry and his family, the staff, and the one couple who were staying at the resort with us at the time. Since we were the only group staying at the Seabreeze for the remainder of our stay, we had the staff and their boats at our disposal. Friday morning began with an early morning dolphin tour where we literally saw hundreds of dolphins at play in the open ocean. The rest of our trip was just as amazing with snorkeling to see Discovery channel quality marine life and coral reefs and swimming in turquoise water; but, most of all just loving life and each other’s company, and not feeling like such a buleh.  It was difficult to return to the real world especially since everyone at my school is appalled by my tan (my Ibu asked me today when my skin would “go back to normal”). At any rate the memories made on this trip will be more than enough to hold me over until our next rendezvous which surprisingly begins next week. 

  

Rumah Saya Baru

Yes, this post is a little out of date- but then again, so is this entire blog…   

  It has been three weeks since I moved into my new house and I have to say that my school outdid itself once again in order to please the buleh.  My new house is quite literally new- I had to wait for the construction workers to finish it so that I could move in. Located in a neighborhood called Gobah, I am about 15 minutes away from my school which is no problem with my sweet new bicycle. I live in the end unit of a townhouse style condo complex- pink on the outside and sunny yellow inside; I have a front living room, bedroom, small kitchen, and bathroom all decked out in true Indonesian style. I not only have a flushing toilet and shower, but I also have big windows that I can open for sunlight and fresh air, a cute front porch, and rooftop access which I use to suntan (gasp!- how culturally inappropriate).  My neighbors next door and across the lane are really nice and have small children that I can play with- although we had to have a talk about their use of my outdoor faucet for child and dish washing, and my front porch as a community hang out.   Some university students live above me and we became fast friends on the day I moved in. They were waiting for me when I arrived with my boxes, and quickly stationed themselves inside to help me unpack. Since then I often hear them calling my name through my windows when I’m home, and I usually have the same reaction I do in America when the Jehovah’s witnesses come around.  All in all it has been a major improvement and in answer to my principal’s question of “Are you happy?”- Yes, I am. 

Blood, Guts, and Idul Adha

Yesterday was the Muslim holiday of Idul Adha, a celebration of the prophet Abraham.  According to the Al Quran, Abraham showed his obedience to Allah by offering to sacrifice his son after having a vision that he should do so. His son consented to be sacrificed; however, because both Abraham and his son were willing to show their obedience to Allah, his son was spared. On Idul Adha, Muslims celebrate by sacrificing cows and goats in remembrance of the sacrifice of Abraham’s son. The meat from the sacrifices is then distributed throughout the community. I stayed with my Ibu Yut to learn more about the holiday and to bear witness to this ceremony. The Mosque in Bu Yut’s community had acquired sixteen cows to be slaughtered. Yesterday the cows were delivered to the varying Mosques and the children enjoyed visiting them at each place. I tried to tell the cows to run in order to escape their cruel fate; but, I don’t think they understood my English.  Yesterday a tent had been set up outside of the Mosque with two holes dug beside it. Today the tent and surrounding area were filled with people who watched as each cow was led to his death. When I arrived one cow had already been sacrificed and his body had been laid only 10 feet from the crowd of people. His neck was a gaping wound and I could hear the rasping sound of his labored breath as he bled out onto the ground around him.  The next cow was unceremoniously led to an open space in the middle of the crowd. His legs were tied with rope and he was put on a large wooden pole so that he could be carried to the slaughtering hole. He was laid on his side with his head over the hole while the butcher used a large, extremely sharp knife to slice open his throat. He did not struggle, nor emit a noise as his bright blood gushed into the hole; but, his tail and body still shuddered with the last of his life. Witnessing one slaughter was more than enough to last me a lifetime and I returned to my Bu Yut’s house with tearful eyes and a nauseous stomach.  Even though compassion took hold of me, it is experiences like this that make me grateful for this opportunity to open my eyes to new cultures and religions. 

  

We Don't Need No Education

The English Teacher's Room

After six weeks of teaching I have become a comfortable fixture at SMK 1. There are two kinds of public senior high schools in Indonesia- SMA and SMK, SMA being a general public high school and SMK being a vocational high school. Students are placed in either an SMA or SMK based on an examination; students who do well on the test are recommended for SMA high schools and a university track, while students who do less well are recommended for SMK schools and an employment track.  Within SMK 1, my students are divided into fields of study such as tourism, accounting, business, and administration. I teach eleven classes of first grade students (10^th grade in America), Monday through Friday; so, I have a little over 300 students. All of 

them are sweet, eager to learn English, and excited to have me in their school- which makes me feel bad about not knowing any of their names.  Every day I walk down the halls to choruses of “Good Morning Miss, you’re beautiful” from the girls and “Miss, do you love me?” from the boys.  Many of the students are musically inclined, and my favorite thing is our male a capella group who not only sing, but beat box very well. I also have a small group of boys who sometimes sit on the steps outside of my office and serenade me with their guitars. My student’s levels of English vary from those who can hold a conversation with me to those who speak to me quickly in Bahasa Indonesia and then laugh at the blank expression on my face. Resources are limited, so all of my lessons revolve around a white board and board marker, sometimes even finding a printer is difficult.  Even with the mixed abilities and the lack of resources, teaching is a joy and I expect that my situation would make any other teacher jealous. As an assistant I am not required to grade or assess my students in any way; so, my job consists of only the fun and creative aspects of teaching.  I hope that I don’t get too spoiled (or conceited); but, for now I am enjoying every minute.

Selamat Datang Pekanbaru

     This Friday marks one month since Brian and I arrived in Pekanbaru. The time has passed quickly, but what a time it has been! In only four weeks I have had the pleasure of meeting not only the Mayor of Pekanbaru, but the Governor of Riau province. I have attended two traditional Malay weddings, and have made friends with several locals. With nothing more than my status as a buleh (white foreigner), I have become an instant celebrity.
    The city of Pekanbaru is far from the largest city on Sumatra; but, it is nevertheless as industrious as any other major city. Pekanbaru boasts three large malls that rival those in America, a huge library, countless salons, and bakeries intermingled with traditional markets and street vendors. I have been able to find pretty much everything that I need within the plethora of shops around Pekanbaru. There is a two-story Ace Hardware where I can buy American cleaning and household products, and Pizza Hut and KFC if I get a craving for Americana. There is even an ice cream truck and a bakery truck, and I can hear their jingles driving down the street. It is a joke among the people who live here that Pekanbaru has no mountains, no beach, and no attractions; so, Pekanbaru has shopping.

     I enjoy walking around the city, and I often go exploring after school. As one of the only bulehs in town I am easy to spot and everywhere I go I am greeted by shouts of “Miss, how are you?” or “Hello Miss, where are you going?” The only person I have found who speaks to me normally, without bursting into a fit of giggles, is the woman who does my laundry. I think that washing my dirty underwear has taken me down from my American pedestal. I have found most people to be extremely friendly and helpful, and those that speak English are eager to practice with a native speaker. Twice I have been engaged in English conversation with strangers who then insisted on buying me dinner afterwards. The hospitality of these people ceases to amaze me. 

                                                     

My Life as an Indonesian Sitcom

A week ago I found that one of the bananas from a bunch on my counter had been nibbled, not nibbled exactly, more like gnawed about 1/3 of the way gone. I tried to mime a mouse trap to my landlady, but I don’t think that got through. After finding more poop on my counter on Monday, I decided to take action and Indonesian dictionary in hand I went in search of a trap. The next morning I was curious to see if I had caught anything, and upon cracking my bedroom door I came face to face with a rat, not a mouse as I had hoped. The rat was still, but as I exited my bedroom, it began to struggle (note: I could only find a sticky trap which DOES NOT kill). It about scared the life out of me and sent me sprinting. I contemplated leaving it for the day, but decided that leaving it would just mean I would have to deal with it later, and what if it somehow got free in that time? Heart-pounding I armed myself with several plastic bags, and proceeded to double-bag the rodent and take him to the outdoor trash bin. That night with the rat still fresh in my mind, I was awakened by a rattling in my bathroom. I found a mouse in my trash can frantically trying to hop out. Screaming some choice words, I ran and got my broom (I’m not sure why I thought this would be helpful) only for the mouse to jump out of the trash can at me and scurry around my bedroom and out of sight. Needless to say I did not sleep well. The next morning I awoke to stomach rumblings of the worst kind, most likely mouse-stress-induced.  I went to school anyway convinced it would work itself out. At lunchtime when my Ibu got out the lunch she had made for us I kindly explained about my stomach. She seemed to understand, but then proceeded to ask me about  five times why I wouldn’t eat. When I finally snapped, she looked very serious and declared that the mouse and sickness were too much for me and that I needed to go home with her for the night. Too tired to argue I let her load me into the car. Unfortunately my Ibu had other plans to nurse me besides taking me home. First stop was to pick up my laundry and take it to my house; second, the tailor to pick up my school uniform; third a Chinese restaurant to get me Bubur Ayam ( a rice porridge with egg and chicken) and hot tea; fourth the bakery to buy me an assortment of pastries filled with banana (I had tried to explain the BRAT diet and apparently banana was the only thing to get through). Finally back to her house I realized she only had a squat toilet, so I took a nap in her son’s bed whom she had kicked out of his room, and prayed that I would not get sick again. After two nights of sleepovers with my Ibu, I was ready to spend some time alone on Friday. However, my favorite English teacher had plans for me to meet her mother. In lieu of English words to tell me how much she liked me, Ibu Yut’s Mom, Omah, decided to buy me things. So my Friday evening was spent following Omah around various shops and stores while she bought me random things and gave me advice in Indonesian.  I’m beginning to feel like I’m a part of a bad Indonesian sitcom; but, I think it’s a good thing that everything is so ridiculous- it definitely makes it easier to laugh, and it’s always better to laugh than to cry. Lessons learned this week: 1. If you use a sticky trap be prepared to take care of WHATEVER is stuck to it. 2. Suffer the D in silence. 3. Marry a doctor or a pilot (a piece of advice from Omah)