wanderous!

will be singing christmas songs in yogya, celebrating the new year in bali, visiting the burial sites of the star voyagers in tana toraja, seeing my favorite animal of all time (well, since the 4th grade) IN THE WILD!!! and chilling in danau toba in north sumatra with a few visits back to gresik until the end of january so will be somewhat out of touch. happy holidays!

http://www.orangutans-sos.org/

Oct 29th- Nov 9th Amazing Adventures with Alaskan Amigas!

Gresik

Seeing a flash of blond hair round the corner, my heart leapt! Lena and Alida were actually here! It was a great and surreal reunion. The seven male airport employees who had been helping me keep an eye out and making small talk all the while for them were also greatly relieved. We rode back to Gresik from Surabaya by public transport so they could get a richer taste of Indo. It was fun explaining things like that all the bus vendors would toss anything from reflexology handouts to stickers to fried tofu on our laps and that they would come back to collect them later giving us time to carefully consider. We were squeezed into a sufficiently crowded angkot after the sweaty musical bus ride.

My family was sooooo excited to see them. We were greeted by a sign that read: Welcome to Alina and Allida. We all sang along to the Beatles together while eating amazing amounts of food.

The next morning Alida and Lena came to school with me. Chaotic of course. I introduced them to each of my classes, shouting over the din, HI! THESE ARE MY FRIENDS FROM ALASKA! They cheered, they flashed their cell phone cameras. Another great slice of life.

Bromo, Java

We awoke at 3:30 am and shared a jeep with some friendly indo university students up to Mt. Penanjakan. From the vantage point there we saw the sunrise slowly sweep over a vast volcanic ash sea, illuminating the peak of Mt Bromo, flanked by Mt Batok and Mt Kursi and shadowed by the massive Mt Semaru (Java’s highest peak at 3676 m) in the background.

Borobudar, Java

Immense buddhist temple built by Sailendra dynasty between 750 and 850 AD. “Colossal three-dimensional tantric mandala...conceived as a buddhist vision of the cosmos in stone.” Overwhelming intricacy. Though also Indonesia’s single most popular tourist attraction so flood of foreigners with their money and locals trying to float some of it their way was also overwhelming.

Rainburst. Hundreds of buddhas remain stoically at peace while hundreds of tourists flee for cover leaving us smiling up at the skies in suprise and slowly spiraling onward towards nirvana.

Kuta, Bali

Kuta is not my cup of tea. I suppose it could be my red bull and vodka- not always a good idea, but every now and then - porque no? We landed in Bali late at night so we crashed in Kuta and had some fun. Went to a favorite kareoke bar (from rinjani trip) and sang some Grease ( Summer NIIIIIIIIII-IIIIIIIIIghts!) and met an old character with a hat covered in various pins so of course Alida happens to have an Alaska pin on her to add to his collection and we end up swaying and singing some random old song about Alaska with him. Stayed long enough to earn our headbands and moved on to reggae beats and on and on.

Ubud, Bali – my cup of ginger tea

Sunday- Made it to Ubud by the next evening. Found a great coffee shop and perused the following with pleasure: www.yannarthusbertrand2.org La Terre Vue du Ciel. Went out for live reggae. Great band. Even better dancers in the barefoot crowd. eccentric spanish magician whirling cape stomping feet, looong versatile indo dreads beaming smiles and shaking it all around, some good ol hippie dancing and endearingly awkard crane dancing.

Monday - Ubud is the birthplace of the modern movement of Balinese art. We went to the Museum Puri Lukisan or Palace of Fine Arts. An expansive collection. Was especially drawn to

Birth of Hanoman – I Gusti Made Deblog, 1936

Octopus – I Gusti Made Deblog, 1955

Cosmic Circle – I Dewa Nyoman Batuan, 1975

The Dream of Dharmawangsa - I Gusti Nyoman Lempad, 1957

Love and Grasshopper – Ida Bagus Made

Atomic War in Indra’s Heaven – Ida Bagus Nyana

Looking for Fish in the Sea – I Ketut Rogig 1955

Learned about the hindu mythology and recurring characters from the Ramayana epic.

Spent after a long time haggling silkly sarong prices at the market, we indulged in massages. Then off to see a Kecak Fire Monkey Chant Dance in the nearby village of Junjungan. The Kecak dance is based on ancient sanghyang trance rituals combined with the story line from the Ramayana epic. However, I later learned that the chant as it is today was actually created in 1930 in Bali to entertain tourists. The name “Kecak” is derived from the sound of the performers chanting “cak-cak-cak,” (pronounced chak-chak-chak) which is reminiscent of chattering monkeys. This chanting fills the role of an orchestra, simulating the staccato rhythms of the gamelan. This is the same chanting portrayed in the incredible film Baraka http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RkxuPxdsZ58. The performance space was simple, a large wooden structure empty save for a smattering of less than a dozen chairs and a large fiery tree creation in the center that provided all of the flickering light for the performance. The chattering monkey was comprised of many men, teenages to elders, wearing matching sarongs and beaming grins. They all seemed to be having a great time throughout. The Ramayana story was portrayed by gorgeous young women and elaborately costumed men. I had the strong urge to be a part of the chattering chant, to melt in the chak-chak-chak and flames for a moment. During the show a thunder and lightning storm raged on outside and provided further dramatic effects.

After the performance the girls dashed off on their motorbikes, flashes of decadent golds and greens washed away in the torrential rain.

Tuesday- Went on a guided eco-bike ride through a rich verdant rice paddy paradise. Stopped at agro-tourism center to sample delish, locally grown and brewed coffees, teas, and hot chocolate, myriad fruits, and punch-packing wines. also pulled up to traditional village home complete with fighting cocks, big pigs and an AXL ROSE poster. a temple with wedding preparations in progress - where i was generously offered a “good very” husband. A bountiful banyan tree. A rice paddy harvest – i have to admit i had always been terribly ignorant of the rice cultivation process, we took at turn at threshing or THAK!-ING the stalks bit only to be laughed at by great huge gap-graced smiles. Carvers sent wood chips soaring skyward unearthing goddesses below.

Monkey forest sanctuary. Madly mischievious macaques! Asked the lady at the front gate how she keeps them from pillaging her hefty banana booty and she craftily held up her wooden slingshot

Drawn to reggae again by promises of same rocking band. Kept an eye out for magicians and cranes but found new expat friends instead, everyone drunk on bintang and hope (night before election day!)

Wednesday – ELECTION ELATION CELEBRATION DAY! Woke up early (relatively) and on a tip from newfound friends we made for Naughty Nuri’s Bar. Rowdy expats, live CNN coverage , breakfast, and beers half-off all day- what more could a couple of hungover hopefuls want? To borrow from my companions Alida and Lena, “we toasted our new president elect with Bintang beers, tears, cheers and sighs of relief.” Wonderful communal release [i have started to experiment with the little binoculars “Find” feature of this word program in an attempt to keep my wonderfuls and beautifuls and such nonsense under some control] sobbed and made long many distance phone calls.

Read about Naughty Nuri's: [thanks alida and lena]
http://www.guardian.co.uk/commentisfree/cifamerica/2008/oct/30/barack-obama-absentee-voting-bali

It was ALSO LENA’S BIRTHDAY! a better day for jubilation can hardly be justified. After long naps and a glowing wayang kulit shadow puppet show we were quite impressed with our ability to rally that night and go out dancing with balinese locals. Cover band that kept surprising us.

Thursday - last day in Ubud spent at our favorite organic YUM spot (Juice Ja on Jalan Dewi Sita) finally indulged in the chocolate passionfruit crepe i’d been eyeing for days. Bought lots of beads (at Palito Beads Shop Jalan Hanoman) went to Gunung Kawi, immense ancient carved cliffside shrines in lush rice paddy valley nearby.

Amed, East Bali

Finally left Ubud Thursday and arrived in Amed on the eastern coast by nightfall. Looking for a place to stay, when we came upon a beach bungalow with a colorful hammock and gathering of locals ‘round a guitar, drinking local brew we knew we’d found our home for the next couple nights (Shellside Bungalows, Jemeluk). possibly haunted... strange first night.

Friday – my first time diving! (Mmm sorry, no binoculars can help now) – it was beautiful bluuuuue. WHOOSH! wrapped in wondrous hues of blues. Light sparkling above. Ummm sparkles and blues? even a barren wasteland below would have held me in rapture. But the coral reef teeming with life, splashes of color rushing, gliding, undulating (right as typed that Joanna Newsom sang about seaweed and squids). First dive with an instructor in coral reef, second with instructor and the more experienced and similarly smitten Lena and Alida at the wreck of the U.S.S. Liberty which was torpedoed in 1942. Highly recommend Eco-Dive in Jemeluk.

Beach bonfire , guitar strings and arak slings aglow.

Saturday – snorkeling, beach massage, pilfered pillow missions, a search sans success for a sparkly sandal

Back to Java

sinking into the delight that is a RotiBoy hot bun mmm....

Sunday – rain storm in Gresik, hujan-hujan and a farewell to friends!

Oct 28th - One Random Night in Bandung or indebted with kitten karma

After i finally said goodbye to all the students and teachers i set off in search of a place to sleep for the night. A common phenomenon i have found is to arrive at an accomodation that is listed in Lonely Planet as cheap and simple and find it extensively renovated and at least twice the price. I imagine that after being published, these previously quiet, charming hostels and bungalows get so much business that they can afford to fancify. I fear i would feel far too much responsibility writing for such an ubiquitous travel guide knowing the potential economic impact it would have. For many travelers, Indonesia is a great escape to be explored with vim and vigor, for others it is daunting and it is far more comforting to adopt LP tunnel vision. When writing for a city like Ubud how would you go about picking the one budget homestay with simple rooms and cold water, over the many others? One family flourishes while others struggle or merely get by due to a travel writer’s wandering left turn instead of right?

Spent all afternoon in a cafe reading Ordinary Wolves by Seth Kantner, pouring words rain and coffee. Evening came and i played with kittens who were for sale outside a mall. Immediate, long-lasting fluff ball drugs. Realized i actually knew where i was and wandered towards Novotel and my favorite warung where i ordered the usual, tempe bakar – grilled tempe with some special sauce, and was happily pleased i could handle more sambal than the last time i’d been there. Was indebted with kitten karma so also ordered a fried fish to share with the stray cat under the table. Made my way towards the familiar Circle K across from Novotel and taught some indo emo kids hanging around out front how to shotgun a beer. Snuck into Novotel to use the lux bathrooms and felt thoroughly confused by sense of space and time.

Oct 25 – 28 Study Tour or shiny power rangers fantasy land

When i first learned that i would be traveling with the entire senior class on their study tour to Jakarta BY BUS, i was less than thrilled due to reasons that are instantly illuminated upon glancing at a map of java. We set out break of dawn Saturday morning and arrived in jakarta sometime Monday morning. 48 hours of kareoke, snacks, motels, prayer pit stops, and of course lots and lots of cell phone flashes. Its times those that i feel so pathetically in need of technological treasures like the ipod i don’t have. The reward for our wearisome traveling: a ridiculous day at indo sea world and indo disney land with over 400 indo teenagers.

a few jellies calmly floated my wavering consciousness back towards the surface, but was violently stung by giant sea turtle crowding and molestation.



Indo disney land or, Fantasy Land, was reminiscent of any other amusement park in america, minus all those pesky safety standards. went on a water ride with airplane style seatbelts with seven seventeen year-old girls only there was no attendent who made sure everyone was buckled and panic quickly flew around our frisbee-shaped float boat as we flew acround a bend – none of them had never been on a plane before, and if a car happens to have a seatbelt here and you happen to fasten it, well it earns you what i like to call power ranger status. This won’t make much sense even with an explanatory sentence thrown in - i often feel that i am such a spectacle that i would not draw any more attention if i were decked out in a shiny power ranger suit, preferably red, or blue, or green. I can never make up my mind. I did end up riding every ride in the place. I thought the scariest one was one of those flipping, spinning, upside-down, high in the sky, with restraints that dont seem quite to be holding you in, but it was in fact the small world boat tunnel ride. Creeepy dolls.



The next day we went to Bandung (where i had my 3 week ETA orientation) and went shopping. Luckily the impending arrival of alida and lena brought double blessings – i had to be back to meet them at the airport before the study tour was due back in gresik so i booked a flight out of Bandung the next morning and escaped the loooong return trip on wheels.

Birthing Adventures Part I

Oct. 15th-18th Rumah Sakit (Hospital, "Sick Room") Muhammadiyah

Yesterday i saw my first birth! I live just down the street from one of Gresik’s several hospitals. As luck would have it, the one I stopped in at on my way home happens to specialize in maternal care. Ive been volunteering there since. So far I had mostly been helping transport patients, bathing and feeding newborns, filling in charts and such but yesterday i was greeted by a widening cervix that was already 7 cm dilated! It was incredibly exciting! One of the doctors let me gingerly put my gloved hand inside the panting woman to feel the baby’s head! I could hardly believe my luck and was thanking the doctor and mother-to-be profusely when she peed all over me (the mother that is), projectile peeing to easily rival any male’s golden arc- can’t believe i am getting to see births up close in the splash-zone.

Things progressed quickly from there, the obstetrician came and there was poo, about a quarter liter more of urine, soooo much blood, and eventually a giant baby head popped out all wrinkly wet and wailing! I had grabbed onto the mothers hand by now, as much for my sake as for hers. i was holding my breathe until the baby finally squirted the rest of the way out. Whew incredible release. Also, had no idea the placenta would look like that.

The mother was in pain, I held her hand, gave her water and talked to her to distract her from her episiotomy sutures. I asked her if she had thought of a name yet and she asked me for some suggestions. I tried to avoid the question saying i didnt know very many indonesian names yet, but they were all laughing and pressing me for a response so i said my favorite boy back home was named Johnny.

When i finally made my way home after noodles and laughs with the nurses, i stopped in to say goodnight to the newborn. His nametag said JONI.

Saturday 18th – saw another birth! Was awoken in the middle of the night by a text message from one of the nurses, quickly threw on some clothes and went out the door running. There is a note taped to the wall next to the nurses’ station that reads (in indonesian): PLEASE CALL MIKAELA (THE BULE :) ) IF THERE IS A BIRTH. 24 HOURS!

It was a baby girl with dark eyes quietly kicking and looking around, there was much cooing and other such silly noises on my behalf. The mother burst into a smile when I told her she had a beautiful daughter. She was born with Down syndrome and her parents joy was without a shadow of shock or disappointment. I am yet not sure if the hospital offers prenatal screens for Down syndrome.

glossary of terms

sometimes my thoughts flow without regard for the fact that many of you do not know that a "bule" and "warung" are not in fact large extinct mammals...

• Angkot – one of the many names of the endlessly but often equally frustrating minibuses used for public transport. Minibus is somewhat of a misnomer, they are no close relative of the bus. maybe more like mini minivans or mini party van– imagine what an uninspired teenager might due to a scrapped minivan if he wanted to convert it into a mini growhouse or a DD vehicle for friends unconcerned about comfort or safety. They are cheap and go all over which is great! But “the drivers wait until their vehicles are crammed to capacity before they contemplate moving [which is also great in an eco-conscious way if you have the patience], or they may go keliling – driving endlessly around town looking for a full complement of passengers. Often there are people, produce, chickens, baskets and even bicycles hanging out the windows and doors.” –LP (got lazY)
• Bapak/pak – father or mr. Pak for short
• Becak- bicycle taxi
• Ibu/Bu – mother or mrs. “Bu” for short which is obviously great
• Bule – foreigner
• Novotel – the ridiculously fancy hotel that all the ETAs stayed at for our 3 week orientation in Bandung, West Java
• Sambal – SPICY homemade chili sauce often served with meals
• Surabaya – huge city, over 3 million people, just under an hour away from Gresik.
• Warung- simple mobile streetside cafe

On Health (or) WHOOPS a meatball lovechild

So i have joined a gym or a “FEETness.” Its aptly called the Tiara Club because, well, its the fanciest “FEETness” center Gresik has to offer. Of course there is no A/C nor even a slowly sweeping floor fan. There are 3 resistence bikes, though if you are so picky as to actually require resistence from your resistence bike, you are left with only one. There are 3 treadmills but I have yet to see anyone move faster than a power walk on them and am not sure if faster is an available option. The weight machines are so heavily oiled that the weights often stick together until they suddenly come clamoring down with a crash. And so on...

My first day there I planned on only going for a swim but the pool is closed on Mondays so I asked for a quick tour instead. Beefy white foreigners like Jean-Claude Van Damme wearing get-ups that look like the stretchy lovechild of a pair of Speedos and suspenders adorned the walls in framed posters. Then one walked up to me. The Indo version. The first really built indonesian I have met. He shook my hand then pointed at a bicycle and told me to get on for a 10 minute warm-up. It turned out to be the one with resistence, quite a bit of it. I tried to cut it short, i already rode my bicycle to the gym, a 15 minute ride. But he didnt really understand and i was too out of breath to try my Indonesian again. Then to the weights. Maybe it was because it was the first time i had lifted weights for months, or because i was trying to show the men there that women can lift weights, or the fact that the Indo Hulk was looming over me saying “lagi, lagi, lagi” (again, again, again).

I was still so sore a few days later that my dear dear host sister and host mom had to help me get dressed in the morning and undressed in the afternoon because i could not bend my left arm more than a slight amount without crying out. I felt pretty damn foolish. But they did give me an amazing loooong tiger balm massage in my bed with my A/C on. I am one lucky lady.

I returned a few days later to use the pool. I have always wanted to be a better swimmer. I can sloppily and inefficiently thrash about in calm waters just fine but if i ever needed to fight rapids or waves or conserve my energy over long distances i would be screwed. My good friend kev started teaching me how to swim better during orientation in the Novotel pool. Partially inspired by watching Gattaca on the hotel tv before falling alseep, I got up a few mornings before lecture to practice my new skills and have been meaning to find a place to continue doing so here ever since. My friend who lived here last year told me that she used to swim at Tiara in just her bikini and a tank top. This was a shock to me at first but i confirmed it with the kind english-speaking receptionist who said it would be just fine. I warily stepped out of the locker room with a sports bra, a sleeveless top, and my bikini bottom still covered by a tightly wrapped towel. The shallow end of the pool was filled with screaming little kids being watched by Ibu’s in jilbabs. Until of course they all started watching me. I removed the towel as close as i could to my point of entry into the deep end. I felt as though my bare thighs might as well have been flashing neon BEER signs. i felt as though Allah might strike me down. I clumsily leapt/ran into the pool. I clumsily swam about. In my later exhaustion i accidently climbed back out of the pool a good 40 feet from where i’d left my towel. In a hurry to reach it and avoid (additional) notice, i tried to power walk like the treadmill crowd and WHOOOOPS slipped, flying bare thighs, landed on butt. Had to laugh at it all. Think i maybe won over any Ibu’s who may have been judging my lasciviousness with my comic relief.

Turns out i shouldnt have been so worried about my exposed thighs. Later in the locker room i saw women changing into bikinis with a bit of mesh here and spandex there. They were getting ready for their aerobics class and they somehow changed into these stretchy elaborate get-ups while simultaneously eating meatballs on a stick. Every one of them. There is a meatball-on-a-stick stand (bakso) right outside the gym and it apparently makes a killing every afternoon as women arrive droves to dance about to techno Usher. I tried the aerobics class the other day. It was so crazy fast and rhythmically demanding i gave up after 20 sweaty embarrassing minutes. I’d rather go running than see my multiple reflections flailing about in vain.

There’s nothing like having volcano hikes kick your butt to get you motivated to get into better health. Unfortunately that requires both more exercise and a healthier diet, both of which are hard to come by here. I have been running a few days a week since I got here, with one long break after hiking Rinjani. But when i try to convince myself to get up out of my bed, close my book or dvd player, leave my air-conditioned room and go on a run, there are so many more reasons not to want to than ever before. Whether running in the states, costa rica, or spain, running has always been an act of introspection, an opportunity to get away from it all, a rhythmic escape into my thoughts, panting healing release. It has also, often, been an escape into gorgeous natural surroundings.

Here, I am running out INTO it all. WHAM hot crowded streets, dodging everything from motorcycles, food stalls and their choking haze, becaks and their overly-friendly drivers, to writhing chicken bundles on the sidewalk every stride. i am forced to run solo without musical accompaniment (no ipod until my friend brings one back to me at christmas), so it all rushes in. I am such a ridiculous spectacle, supposedly other indonesians go running here but i have yet to see any other than an old barefoot man on the other side of town. I find myself silently blessing every person i pass who doesnt yell something out to me, try to give me a high five, wave, or try to chase me. After 20 minutes of this deluge i finally leap off the pavement onto grass at my tiny patch of “nature,” a soccer field. I run some laps around one soccer field then run down a busy street again to run laps around another soccer field. There are usually boys playing soccer and they usually yell out “Hello MEESter! where are you going? Where are you from? What is your phone number? I love you? What is our name?” (in indonesian and more or less in that order) they do so relentlessly. Somehow they fail to notice that my conversational abilities might be somewhat hindered by my inability to breathe due to a potent combination of exhaust and exhaustion. How can they fail to notice that crowded beads of sweat are hurridly hurling themselves off my hot skin towards a freefall escape in every direction?

But every now and then i get lucky, arrive at the first soccer field, empty, dusk approaching, softened light floats through a bougainvilla tree, golden clouds, call to prayer resonates harmoniously and for a few laps its strangely beautiful. Sometimes i really appreciate watching a great play in a soccer game or even just hearing the THUNK of soccer balls being kicked over and over again. And sometimes a super cute little kid screams when they see me, little legs a tumbling mess as they chase me down the street and i let them win and its great.

I was going to start writing about all the various forms of deep-fried food but i’ll leave that for another time.

My Halloween Party or the disgruntled adventures of captain spoon

I was in yogyakarta with lena and alida on halloween (en route and in the company of a disgruntled older couple) so i had a belated halloween party for my english club students... very belated. The planning was exhausting. Had to go to several buzzing with women, buzzing with flies markets to find pumpkins. Had a wonderful time staying up late into the night with my host family drawing and painting ghosts, jack-o-lanterns, vampires, skeletons, spiders, effeminate devils and ridiculous spirits, including one that we decided looked like kung fu panda. Helped my host cousin fry and besprinkle about 40 donuts. Cooking homemade donuts is dangerous, not due to the hot bubbling oil but due to the sampling duties. Experienced two different Jell-O diSASters. Transformed myself and my host sister Nikmah into black cats with a bit of eyeliner and construction paper. I know there are many of you still reeling from the shock you received one sentence back- i was NOT a sparkle nor anything else reinterpreted in a sparkly way.

It was all worth it to have Indo Teenage Rambo and Indo Harry Potter and Captain Spoon (not to be confused with his somewhat more intimidating foe, Captain Hook) arrive at my door. I got to turn one of my students into an Emo Rocker with my eyeliner (complete with tears) for not coming in costume while the others cheered EH-MO! EH-MO! We carved three pumpkins, Captain Spoon was especially handy. Ha. We bobbed for apples which was hilarious because the first maybe 7 students took care to not get wet. Then one particularly competitive boy just dove in and emerged triumphant. More followed suit. I placed 4th and my whiskers were whisked away.

It was pretty cool when we all stood around in my kitchen staring at the glowing jack-o-lantern flicker in the dark.

Thanksgiving

The US Embassy in Surabaya hosted a Thanksgiving dinner for the ETA’s and ELF’s living in the area. favorites were the pumpkin pie, mashed potatoes, broccoli and Coronas. There were a lot of us bules in town for the weekend so three looong nights of clubbing followed.

Was somehow convinced to go to the surabaya zoo. Confronted my discomfort. Was even more terrible than i could have imagined, devastating primate stares.

dew on my shoes

Pulled the first all-nighter last night since the last time i tried to sit down and do some blog writing. One of my friends pointed out that i am the only person he knows who pulls all-nighters after college. Problem is, do not have a laptop and have to borrow school’s laptop because can not think properly in internet cafe setting with indo remix of umbrella ella ella eh eh going on and on and usually there are kids peering curiously and unabashedly over my shoulder at whatever i am typing. And have not been able to borrow school laptop for awhile (one went missing) and by chance was able to have it for one night only so stayed up.

stayed up until 5:30 and then went on a run. I dont know whether it was the sleep deprivation, many cups of black ginger tea, ridiculously early hour, or what, but WHUSH everything was LUSH vivid. Saw so much more than usual, all the small things (one of my students’ favorite songs) that usually fade into the noise. Must really try to go running in the morning more often because there is less honking, more praying, less soccer-playing suitors, more tai chi swooshers, less vroom vroom, more boom! bright red blossoms underfoot, shaken down by the rains.

Will try to get more dew on my running shoes from now on.

Aug 27th – Oct 2nd Traveling around Jakarta or botanical blue whale blessings

Wednesday- 27

So all of us ETA’s had to go back to West Java for fingerprinting and picture taking for our Indonesian ID cards, which meant that we were once again put up in a outrageously fancy hotel complete with a giant curving marble staircase and complementary bath salts. More ridiculousness of the sort that ensues when over 30 Americans get together in a huge city in a foreign country. That night at around 3:30 am, my good friend Eric, (who loves whales) and i walked around this park containing a huge monument ingloriously referred to as Sukarno’s final erection, which i call the giant flaming erection. we see that there is part of the gate keeping us out that we could easily roll under, we roll and are eventually staring up at the white monument lit from below, makes me think D.C., and morning birds are soaring around and around and he sings Feed the Birds from Mary Poppins which was pretty perfect.

Thursday - ridiculousness, a club owned by the President’s son, and a very very happy birthday to my buddy Dan!

Friday – another daring escape! Kevin rouses a somewhat less than enthusiastic me out of bed and we’re off to meet Eric in Bogor, a town an hour train ride to the south of Jakarta. Bogor is also called the city of rain so I was full of joy when the huge drops began splashing down! We arrive and find Eric at peace in huge amazing botanical gardens, Kebun Raya. 80 hectares of winding overgrown paths, twisty vines, awe-inspiring root systems, streams, forgotten fountains, lotus ponds, orchid houses, more than 15,000 species of trees and plants and a, are you ready? A skeleton of a blue whale!!! We were only there very briefly though because we were off to the sea... A long bus ride interrupted by a scree CRAsh that turned out to not really do too much damage but certainly was startling and we had all been wondering how long it would be before we saw a crash because the traffic is so crazy shaky dense here.

photos by kev

Then a loooong night in a small beach side bungalow in the small fishing village of Pelabuhan Ratu. The power was out in the whole town which at first seemed a blessing because we arrived at night and could only hear the ocean waves and were enchanted by romantic idea of candlelight and such. The heat quickly became an unfriendly reminder of how dependent we still were on electricity. With no AC (why conditioner and not a much more obvious air cooler or chiller) and too many mosquitoes to open any windows, we were trying in vain to not touch each other while continuously debating the great sheet dilemma- too hot with the sheet, too many mosquito bites without it.

At some point in our fitful attempts at sleep i noticed the power was back on so we cranked up the AC and turned on the lights for some mosquito hunting. What a sight, the three of us laying there motionless in silent apprehension and intense focus, hands in the air, frozen in position, only our eyes furtively scanning, scanning. .. a buzz! A dark dot darts by! the furious clapping begins! At first we are fairly unsuccessful but we eventually honed our skills. I quickly became Mikaela the Merciless, mmm i don't exactly remember the others but lets say Kevin the Killer and Eric the Enforcer. This went one for quite some time as we were always sure we vanquished our last tiny foe but then a whirr and WHAM we’re back into action!

Quite inconsistent, my moral dilemmas regarding the taking of insects’ lives. Like how i will quickly build a small raft and life jacket for a single drowning ant but if a swarm of them invades my kitchen i quickly and somewhat regrettably show too little regard for their lives.

photos by kev

Saturday - We awake to ocean waves and brightly colored fishing vessels, hang around long enough for a morning dip and to appreciate the craftsmanship of the boats and take off for more scenic beaches. i could not believe that after almost a whole month living in this island nation this was my first chance to hear, smell, taste and feel the ocean! we took some angkots and ojeks (motorbikes) to an awesome black lava rock shore covered in crashing waves and crabs and we scrambled up the cliff above, Karang Hawu, also carved by lava flow, to a sea goddess shrine. Pelabuhan Ratu is where Nyai Loro Kidul resides, the malevolent goddess of the sea who takes fishermen and swimmers down to her undersea lair. You can’t wear green on the beach unless you want to fall prey. The shrine was a small room filled with offerings and several chanting supplicants, with the walls covered in paintings of the sea goddess and her sea dragon. pretty amazing.

photo by kev

Then another ojek ride to nearby Cipanas hot springs. There, steam bursts out of cracks in the river rocks and boiling hot water sprays, creating a hot river that downstream mingles with a cold river. It was pretty crowded up above with indos but downstream, if we ignored the cleaning of raw fish and occasionally pooing in the waters in the distance (we convinced ourselves the heat was killing everything) it was amazing and lovely. The currents carried hot water to relax us and then cool waters to refresh us in somehow perfect harmony.

photos by kev

By late afternoon we made it to a small surf town called Cimaja. It was paradise, hardly any tourists save for a few salty surfers and a completely undeveloped beach covered in rocks the size of juicy mangoes. As the fierce surf rolled out the rocks tumbled over other another in a beautiful clamor. we enjoyed a few beers at the bar in our small surfer hostel run by an exuberant expat and then called it a night.

photos by kev

Sunday- Dusk and dawn beach time everyday.
Eric left us for jungle adventuring the next morning while kev and i lolled about longer. explored further reaches of the beach where mango rocks and dinosaur eggs eventually succumbed to sand. there were many great lava rock boulders in the waters, some of them breaking the surf to make a huge tidal pool lagoon area where we floated about and sunned ourselves on the rocks as mermaids. contentedly contemplating crawling clambering coal colored camouflaged crabs, crafty claws clenching crevasses, climbing cliffs casually. I of course got very sunburned as i always do the first time i am out all day under the searing tropical sun, too stubborn to use sunscreen until too late.

photos by kev

We retreated back to cold beers and lazy naps and were later treated to free fresh delicious sautéed fish and prawns by our host. That evening at the ocean’s edge the palms trees silhouettes exploded against the fading sky, lit up by flashes of lightning and it was wonderful until i realized i was wearing green pants, oh no, retreat!

photos by kev

Monday- One last early morning at our paradise beach. My sunburn turned out to actually be a blessing because saying bye to the beach was less bittersweet. Back to Bogor (bus broke down on the way) for a full afternoon at the botanical magical gardens i mentioned earlier. orchids galore, an abandoned fountain, enthralling roots, a good bye to the blue whale skeleton and so much more. Rode economy train back to Jakarta which was surprisingly great. Sat cross-legged on floor in front of open doors, cityscapes and rural lives whooshing past, sunset flashes through trees, endless silver shining upside-down turnip mosques. We found ourselves wishing we could travel the whole country in the same manner, catching intimate glimpses while the rest slips past. Vendors hopped on board at each stop offering wares ranging from carrot shredders (walked as shredded live demo) and fireworks to picture frames and stickers (i admit, i was tempted). A woman weaved her way through the crowded aisle singing while her husband staggered under speakers behind her. Watched other trains depart with a crowd of young indo men casually sitting on the roofs! Foolishly dangerous, but i am sure quite a rush. Apparently police here shoot paintballs at them to get them to stop.

photo by kev

Arrived in Jakarta, another fun night of bules (foreigners) together and then back to Gresik the next afternoon.

August 23-24 The Trip to the Terrible Lake or precious jewels, fire oil and sacrilegious squatting

Saturday 23rd
Counterpart convinced me to go on an organized weekend trip with her and students and teachers to a “beautiful lake and waterfall” area. Desperate for some nature i was easily convinced. Got up at 6 am, climbed on board bus, shrugged off the fact that there were no students, just adults, tried to fall back asleep. Was woken up my sweat flowing down all over my body, trip turns out to be a suffocatingly hot, un-airconditioned, no windows, no hope even for a lost breeze, sweltering 7.5 hour bus ride of misery.

when finally arrived, could not see much nature, just small hotels and snack vendors. Heart sinking swiftly,while everyone else lazily settled into hotel for the afternoon i set off for the beautiful, vast, shimmering, precious jewel of a lake that would validate the trip it required and help lift my soggy spirits back up. Imagine my dismay when i am instead shocked by the sight of a sad, gray, man-made, enchained in concrete, spotted with pestilent buzzing motorboats, choked by a road, indo tourist excuse for a lake. I wander confusedly over to the other side where there is at least a fuchsia bougainvillea tree growing and sit behind it, blocking my view, trying to make the best of the situation.



Worse still, lake circled constantly by depressing parade of horses ridden by tourists, clopping on concrete.

This is indonesia dammit! Its full of wondrous, crazy, natural beauty and while gresik itself may be lacking, it certainly seems crazy that so many indonesians actually want to drive over 7 hours to come here to circle around in a motor boat or on a horse and then buy a t-shirt and call it a holiday. But thats just it, my friend explained when i called him, exasperated- T.I.I. This Is Indo.

Was so frustrated about whole situation and implications that went on run and found a dirt path leading off concrete horse crap covered one, so followed into trees. at first sooo much garbage but as ascended it gradually faded and then just me on a small dirt path with the birds and butterflies and unseen creatures so that at least felt great.


Next day got up early to go to waterfall. From about 6 feet up it was beautiful but below it was under construction, being converted into a concrete swimming pool. You had to clamber over orange tarps and poles and stand right under it to drown out the hammering. But all frustration dissolved away and whole trip worth it once i saw a baby monkey clinging to its mother’s belly!
Sunday 24th
Less than thrilled about long sweaty return, was even worse than before, continued to monitor sweat levels to make sure would know when actually had severe heat stroke. Tried to sleep through it, woke up as bus came to a lurching halt in palm forest. Oh, well, as it turns out we had added in surprise side trip to someone’s wedding! I consider staying on the bus but some little kid and their mom are nonchalantly defending the only seats you can fully recline on (but their eyes say they mean business) so i get off, wearily give the happy chaste couple my blessing and pose for a couple pictures then crumple onto patio floor shade in soggy panting heap.

Someone asks me if a traditional massage might help, and in my confused state i think porque no? So sit down in front of man and he rubs fire oil on my neck and shoulders. Fiery fire oil. Like when hot-tub water is so painfully hot that it scalds your skin pink only this was spicier. Not exactly what one wants when one thinks one might be suffering from heat stroke. Then i gritted my teeth as a new kind of pain was mercilessly delivered, his hands the swift messengers. the kneading friction only added fuel to the fire. I don't know why i didn't say something but i was so out of it i just helplessly told myself that this was unpleasant medicine and all my life i had been receiving wimpy love pats of the swedish sort and when in Java get a Javanese massage. But at times i did fear for the long-term integrity of my tendons and muscles.

At some point i somehow gave up and let go of the pain and was so subdued that if i thought if i felt 8 hairy tiny touches moving in a sort of locomotive unison across my bare skin i would have done nothing but wish Spider a safe journey and perhaps even apologize for blocking his path with my tedious body. Somehow i endured but so did the fire oil on my neck and shoulders, for hours later!

just to make this whole experience truly memorable, on the rest of the ride home i had to pee like a little kid who’s just been zipped, buttoned, and snapped inside a snowsuit, and the bus driver would not stop. I was left in limbo, sooo exhausted but unable to sleep due to the urgency of my bladder’s demands. He kept driving until finally there were so many of us doing the pee dance – a truly universal one! – he had to pull over. We were in front of a mosque, i felt quite unable to make it another step and was frantically asking “di mana WC (way-say)” but indos have this habit of vaguely pointing in some general direction as a response so i rushed off and couldn't find standard hole in the floor toilet so in sacrilegious desperation popped a squat over the trough that collects water after they wash their hands, feet, and faces from spigots above, praying all the while to Allah (i figured he’d be the most responsive in this specific predicament) that nobody would walk in but, perhaps to spite this nonbeliever he failed to intervene on my behalf and in walks several devout women! shocked, but luckily, mostly just outrageously amused by the sight of this pissing bule. Imagine walking in to find someone who’d climbed up onto a sink counter to pee squatting over the sink when the toilets were only 2 feet away and the bathroom is a holy place.

(Right now am sending the most lizard-loving thoughts to the little lizard crawling down my bedroom wall because do not want it to leave because it eats the mosquitoes for me and this is the first time i've seen one here in my room)

August 20th – 23rd: First days in Gresik or repressed mermaid sexuality.

Arrived in Gresik around dinner time, ate at a small cafe with two English teachers from my school, one of them is my counterpart which basically means my go-to person at my school and i had met her in Bandung before leaving where she gave me many gifts and was quite silly. So she took a later flight to Surabaya the huge city just an hour away from Gresik and we came together and met up with another English teacher who is a laughing teddy bear of a man around whose tummy my arms were clasped as we then sped off on his motorbike to the school. This was a surprise because i was running on maybe the least sleep ever other than thesis week and was not exactly prepared to meet 20 of my students! Drove up to see a HUGE banner across the school that read WELCOME MISS MIKAELA RODRIGUEZ! Just the beginning.

Luckily was then taken to my house where met my lovely wonderful family and was greeted by a sign reading WELCOME MAKELA and crepe paper streamers, snacks aplenty, rainbows dripping paper cranes, and best of all, a new blue bicycle!


Drifted into deep sleep to be awaken at 4 am by call to prayer blasted into my bedroom as it turns out my house is just across a narrow street from a mosque and there are at least 5 more in the near vicinity, and 20 nearby. love it though, just incredible. Although since i am writing this belatedly and Ramahdan has begun, besides the usual 5 times a day call to prayer there is also a rhythmic reading of the Koran, a native american tribal-like chanting and other such sounds from about 5:30 until midnight every night that can be so loud that in order to talk on the phone from anywhere in my house i have to retreat into the bathroom and request shouting from the other end.

Thursday the next day was my first day of officially visiting my school. Madness. Chaos. Was draped in candy and flower necklaces at entrance pulsing with the student body. Given the same gifts over and over again so that the act could be documented by the very short in stature student photographer who accompanied me throughout the day. I was given a tour of the whole school (about 40 classrooms?) during which several student tour guides would leading me into a classroom, proudly and nervously introduce me and then I would introduce myself and answering the questions “what do you think our school?” “what do you think about indonesia?” “are you married?” and no matter what i said the response was the same, an eruption of smiles and laughter to challenge krakatau and blinding flickering flashes of cell phone cameras. Every few classrooms my student guides were swapped for eager new ones, though the diminutive paparazzi stuck with me, rushing down the stairs ahead so he could take pictures of my sweaty overwhelmed descent and up the stairs for my ascent and so forth. After a dizzying tour, i was ushered into a large air conditioned room with a stage and microphones and was seated with the headmaster, another english teacher, and some other person of importance.



Speeches were delivered, including one about me which included a verbatim reading of my resume submitted with my application which began with the header: “ahem, mikaela lea rodriguez, 113 5th street douglas, alaska, 99824, home 907...” then the english teacher led them in a cheer to the tune of We Will We Will Rock Them with “We Love, We Love, Lea (lay-ah)” i gave a speech that few understood , a teacher serenaded me with what i believe was a tim mcgraw song on his guitar, and we ate. all the while i had to contain my great amusement at the fact that my very formal, conservatively dressed, elderly headmaster, was in fact unknowingly wearing a belt with a shining gold playboy bunny buckle.

Friday morning students picked me up from my house to take me to school as it took me about a week to be able to successfully make my way to school and home without any confusion. At school was greeted by the sight of an sea of shoes into which i happily tossed mine and then dove into beaming hiljab currents, all the teachers were in the front of the huge crowd, shyly fighting for my seat adjacent. Amazing religious singing by students after which i was called on stage to say before the hundreds what i thought of the singing. Then student punk rock band performs and lead singer grips mic as forcefully and casually as only a rock star can and dedicated the song to me which led to the millionth giggle eruption.

Muslim Chinese woman is main event, motivational speaker of sorts from what i can gather. Went on for about an hour, everyone laughing/singing/nodding in unison except me and a 2 yr old girl sitting just in front of me. We play with our toes and glance about with the same small sighs, our ponderings lost to the world around us- like why must we both be wriggling, squirming, in overheated, multilayered, oppressive, skin gasping for breathe discomfort. I, however, am well aware of that the reason behind my physical misery is derived from cultural respect and assimilation but what could this feeling mean to a naturally selfish and indulgent child who continuously seeks out pleasure, who is not yet as socially conditioned to deprive oneself voluntarily of a cool breeze across ones bare skin on an oppressively hot day. The battle played out before me, she pulling up on her dress and her mother pulling it back down to her ankles. Wonder about this struggle for balance in raising own child someday- balance between being modest and unsexual enough to supposedly “successfully” socialize in school and public and their consequent repressed sexuality and shame towards their body. Difficult to imagine raising a child to never even KISS before marriage like they do here!

Later went to market with host sister and bought maybe many mumu’s? Its so freaking hot here every single day! So i now dress often in large batik dresses that are apparently only appropriate for 60 year old sagging grandmothers but could really care less because so much more comfortable!

Then went to Kindergarten Carnaval, which consisted of maybe 80 becaks (bicycle driven little carts that carry people all around town) filled with little kids dressed up so elaborately- mostly in traditional garments of various regions in indonesia but also militia with plastic guns pointed (always disturbing, still want to make giant statue of all childrens' toy guns traded for less violent playthings in form of dove or something – just exactly as typed that fiona apple sang “but then the dove of hope began its downward slope” into my ear—) mermaids, fairies, etc... and they all looked absolutely bored out of their minds. Their parents couldn't get the most of them to even attempt a smile for a picture, and oh the pictures! Not used to having the instant celebrity status suddenly thrust upon me with no validation, no accomplishment, no great good or even scintillating scandal to my name, just the privilege inherent in my nationality and spoken language.

August 1st-20th: Orientation in Bandung or extremophile bathtub superpowers

August 1st – 20th

Ahhh what to say about the orientation in bandung (in West Java, 3rd largest city in Indonesia)? Ridiculous??? So there are 36 or 35 ETA’s from across the country and they are good amazing people. We are all put up in a fancy shmancy hotel, own huge rooms, beds big enough for at least 3 people comfortably, gazing down from top floors on small shacks and shopping malls on street below. 3 weeks, lectures 8 am – 4:30 or so everyday except Sunday and only half-day Saturday.

Mmm this experience was good good talks, not so much sobriety, sleep-deprived, drink coaster doodling during lectures, singing spice girls outside the atm with a very tall boy and a very skinny boy, avocado juice, poolside and bedside guitar jamming, action cat! beers in the bathtub, call to prayer kite soaring sunset serenades, thirty-finger massage, too much time in elevators, daring motorbike dashes to and from cloud 9, snakeskin fruit seed puppets, birthday cakes for obama and boats for friends, delicious warung food, world peace through angklung, swimming lessons, shotgunning beers in front of the circle K across the street is keeping it classy, musical melodicas, bad jokes aplenty, ginger tea, team extreme! nonexistant gay bars, much unpleasant pooing for many, super xtra hot ramen heroes, ridiculous rolling stones cover band, dancing with children, big beautiful whale wives and pocket monkeys, novotel indonesian idol, confessions, fiending for hotel mints, planet earth, traditional bamboo instrument rendition of i will survive by indo high schoolers, fruit bat penises, crazy alien lake complete with actual alien playing the zither and superpower mud, and so much more.

Will elaborate a little on last three:

One day we went to different local schools to get more of a feel for what our homesite schools would be like. There are several different types of schools that we were placed at. SMA’s are public high schools, pesantrans are private Islamic boarding schools and SMP’s are public trade schools. I am teaching at an SMA NU, the NU means it is a public Islamic highschool. Myself and some others teaching at SMA’s went to visit an SMA in Bandung and were enthusiastically received with local snacks, ten thousand pictures, and a student musical performance! See videos if was able to upload them

Kevin, Erica, Erin, Dan and I escaped our suffocatingly shmancy surroundings and traveled by several angkots (small minibuses that swallow passengers until bulging and legs and arms are dangling out of mouth) and buses (some more frustrating than others) to an eerily turquoise alien volcanic crater lake. We rushed past an alien playing the zither in our excited arrival but regretted it later because he had quickly vanished. After some highly rigorous scientific analyses were performed to quantify our possible survival if we were to touch the water or surrounding mud shore (these involved sticks being tossed in and observed with much scrutiny) i fell into the sulfuric alien mud! Though both extremely startling and smelly, it was a small price to pay for the incredible superpowers i now possess. i did not wake up hovering several feet above my high-count linen bedsheets as i had predicted, indeed my superpowers are more of a more subtle variety but super nonetheless.

Oh and we became TEAM EXTREME in honor of the intrepid extremophiles inhabiting the otherwise inhospitable waters.

We also saw a really great performance at an arts center, Saung Angklung Udjo, where they perform traditional Sundanese cultural arts; with traditional circumcision dances (sans the surgery), fierce pupperty, a gamelan orchestra, and ridiculously cute little children who at one point pulled us in to dance with them and together we “promoted peace in the world through angklung art performance”. The angklung is a Sundanese bamboo percussion instrument. They can range from simple single note angklungs to giant ones with many notes. The cute young children played the single note angklungs and at one point handed these out to the entire audience so that we might all play together. this was fairly silly and immensely enjoyable. Songs were perfomed that ranged from the traditional Sundanese to the doe a deer, a female deer, ray a golden drop of sun from Sound of Music, to Josh Groban. The world felt more at peace.