my host sister, putri, and lia, demonstrating how to put on a jilbab. thanks, girls! CLICK TO SEE AN ADORABLE VIDEO of the P.G.O.A.T.s putting on lia’s JILBAB: http://www.facebook.com/v/10101400515268039 enjoy!

Rapat. It is a standard happening here in my life. I am not sure PCVs were adequately prepared for just how many meetings in Indonesian we would sit through. I have probably clocked in a solid 80 hours of various meeting types up to this point conducted all in Indonesian.

I am still learning to appreciate the intricacies of the formal gatherings, but, so far, here is a recipe for if you want to throw your own:

If you designate a start time for the meeting, make sure you begin at least 30 minutes to 3 hours later. Get yourself a microphone and speaker system – even if you are in a small classroom with few people and everyone can plainly hear what you are saying without it. If possible, have the speaker sit at a formal table with a placard or banner indicating the person’s importance. The speaker, in general, may not stand up or move about the audience. Listening is not required from the audience. In fact, all can continue on with personal conversations or take that long overdue nap. Participants may even allow their kids to run around the room if they desire. Powerpoint. The key is the allure of just having a powerpoint. You don’t need to put anything in there that people need to follow, and it is actually best if you have a partner who fiddles with it constantly throughout your presentation offering a distraction from what you are saying. Interaction is not necessary and sometimes discouraged, but allow for a strictly formal Q&A session at the end, even if it is only a gathering of 10 or so. Questions from participants must be preceded by a “thank you” and followed by a formal apology for anything that could have offended. The questions from one individual must be listed (there should be more than one question if you are taking the time to ask) and jotted down by the moderator. The moderator will respond only after all questions from participants have been asked. No dialogue. You should provide snack boxes and Aqua water cups. If you are an elected official, you should provide presents. Male teachers at my school received shirts and female teachers were gifted purses after one event. Karoake following or preceding is optional, but recommended. For the most part, I really enjoy these meetings.

In the beginning it was a chance to test my focus and see how much I could understand. I have far to go in my language learning, and it is a good gauge for how I am progressing (or if I am at all). At times when I can no longer focus on what is being said or when I know it is not important for me to listen, it then turns into time when I can study my vocab notebook or jot down ideas for my next blog entry. Along with long bus rides, these meetings provide prime pondering time. Sometimes I catch myself drifting and thinking about other things like: candy bars (oddly, I’ve found this takes up a significant amount of my pondering time), where I will live when I get back to New York, or broccoli (I’m pretty sure I am suffering from an iron deficiency).

And I have grown to respect the formality, even if it is not my personal taste. It’s what people know. It’s seen as the most polite way. It’s how things have been done. I do question sometimes: How do people really feel? Do they like the way these things go? Wouldn’t it just be quicker and easier to hash these things out over a quick cup of java (pun intended) at the old warung (street restaurant) and scrap all the red tape?

After hours of a meeting, I am often left wondering – “Wait, what did we decide? What is the action?” But then I am handed a snack box, and all questioning of effectiveness, efficiency, and thoughts of broccoli step-ball-change back to the recesses of my mind to make way for a more important focus: carefully wrapped, sugary and fried treats.

Here are pictures from a university graduation I attended with one of my counterparts and his family a few months ago. The ceremony portion accounted for about 4 hours of my aforementioned meeting time tally. During this 4-hour span, my counterpart's daughter spent most of the time playing games on my cell phone as his wife slept in her chair.

PCVs are not allowed to ride motorcycles which makes travel difficult sometimes here. I had to ride in a horse and buggy to the next city with my CP's wife and daughter as he rode beside on his motorcycle.





I tried to get a pic of the intricate jilbab styles that go with special occasions.

As much fun as Gili T was, I think we were all ready to leave the all-night party scene and head over to the more serene Indonesia we’ve grown to know and love. And so we found ourselves once again on a long rickety wooden boat, this time heading back to the main island of Lombok. It was another picturesque car ride through traditional villages and terraced rice fields as we approached the base of Mt. Rinjani a.k.a. Gunung Agung’s slightly larger (by about 600 vertical meters) big brother and principal landmark of Lombok visible from nearly every corner of the island. Although it may be hard to believe, we opted not to partake in the 3-4 day hike up this treacherous volcano; my body started to ache just thinking about the 12-hour trek we had taken up its diminutive-by-comparison neighbor less than a week before. We continued to drive north towards the village of Senaru with visions of majestic waterfalls flowing in our heads. Those visions were soon realized, but only after a minor squabble with an illegitimate tour company claiming that an exorbitantly overpriced guide was obligatory for the 20-minute marked walk. As Indonesian tourists passed through the gate paying the equivalent of 50 US cents for the entrance fee, schemers attempted to charge us nearly US$50 for the same trip. Living in my Javanese village I sometimes forget that there’s often a local price and an inflated tourist price, and by day 10 of our trip I was not in the mood to be taken advantage of, again. We eventually settled on a significantly lower price and began the leisurely walk to the arresting falls.Sarah on Our Way Up to the Second Waterfall

The Four of Us at the Foot of Sindang Gila

Half an hour later we found ourselves at the foot of the second of two impressive drops. We decided to take advantage of the beautiful day and made our way for a swim in the larger of the 2 falls. Our wobbly walk across slimy, unstable rocks was rewarded by a chilly yet refreshing dip in the fresh water pool. Unaware of how powerful the ostensibly peaceful flow was, I ventured over to see what was behind the misting falls. The pressure from the nearly 40-meter cascading water pushed me under into an angry whirlpool. I used every ounce of strength I could muster to fight my way back to the surface, only to be unfavorably greeted by half a breath of misty air followed by a vigorous pummeling from the deafening falls. I’m convinced that had it not been for Sarah’s keen eye and Travis’ strong build pulling me to safety I would have perished unnoticed into the depths of the imposing falls. Just more proof that I’m not destined to be a water girl.Sarah and Ashley and a Slippery WalkThe Scene of My Near Death Experience We spent an inconsequential night in Sengiggi then set off for Kuta the following morning for the remainder of our stay on the island. On our way south we sojourned in the charming weaving village of Sukaraja in order to appease Travis’ sarong addiction- he was quite zealous about adding a handmade, hand-woven piece to his exponentially growing collection (just teasing Travis!). As with most shopping detours when you hire a private car, the driver eventually receives a certain percentage from the passengers’ purchase; it was later rumored that in this particular weaving community the driver gets 50% of the proceeds…wow! In an attempt to encourage local economic support, we were given a guided walking tour of the village where we observed elderly women weave intricate patterns then were dressed in handmade wedding garments and paraded about. All the textiles were dramatically vibrant, each with a unique variation from the traditional design. We also learned that a girl is considered unmarriageable if she doesn’t learn this time-honored trade. I would not fare well here.WeavingWeaving 2Weaving 3

Vibrant Fabrics

Getting Dressed In Wedding Attire Final Look

We continued down to the surfers’ haven and were immediately enchanted by the tepid crystal blue water and tranquil beaches of Kuta. At any given time there were no more than 5 people within eyesight on our pristine stretch of shoreline as we waded out into the striking salt water. But as lunchtime approached and school let out, there was a mad rush of child hawkers swarming the scantily clad beach goers and surfers who were attempting to grab a bite to eat. Every day after school kids ages 6-12 tenaciously push self-made bracelets on the tourists in order to pay for school books. And thus begins the tale of how we first crossed paths with the most charismatic 8-year old I’ve ever met.Panorama of Kuta's Coastline

Dressed in his worn out sports uniform from school, Rocky promptly introduced himself and flawlessly delivered the handful of English phrases he’d clearly rehearsed on countless foreigners before: “How are you?”…“What is your name?”…“Where are you from?”… Completely unabashed at the prospect of talking to complete strangers, he continued his spiel, ingenuously winning over the hearts and wallets of Aussies, Brits, Germans, and an abundance of other international visitors. He was completely loveable, with a tinge of mischief hidden behind his amiable façade. Upon further inquiry using our ever-improving Indonesian, we learned more about Rocky and his adolescent cohorts with names like Tony and Rocco- clearly not local names. In order to establish a more familiar bond with non-natives, each child chooses, or is given, a westernized name and encouraged to use it when initiating conversation. Within minutes of knowing that we spoke Indonesian and were familiar with Islamic culture, Rocky sat down unsolicited- no longer trying to sell us bracelets- and morphed into a normal 3rd grader, unconcerned with finances and more inclined to learn about Sarah’s unusually long, blonde arm hair and Ashley’s aviator sunglasses. He all at once opened up about his school day and family life over a cold soda, but was soon beckoned back to reality by his colleague-classmates who were on a mission to raise school fees.The Lovable Rocky

Trying On All of Our Sunglasses

Through the duration of our two weeks of adventure, I was faithfully accompanied by a strongly recommended book. Page after page I continued to draw uncanny parallels between the author’s account of life on an isolated Pacific island in the The Sex Lives of Cannibals, and my own daily experiences from 2 years with Peace Corps on Java. Frequent power outages and stomach issues. The ceaseless playing of the same unbearable song over and over again for hours, days, and even months on end. Mangy, malnourished dogs and other supposedly domesticated animals meandering around freely. The progressive transition from organic banana leaves and coconut shells as eating devices to widespread usage of plastic substitutes which are inevitably disposed of in the same manner as their biodegradable predecessors resulting in the devastation of a formerly pristine environment. On more than one occasion I found myself laughing out loud and sharing passages with my empathetic PC companions.Palm Tree Silhouette and Moon in Kuta

After the two weeks was said and done, one of my most beloved memories was arriving back in my village with the most overwhelmingly enthusiastic, genuine greeting from my students and neighbors. As I strolled into school the following afternoon (a Sunday) I was bombarded by a flock of eager 3rd graders who had shown up on the off chance that our bi-monthly English camp had started a week early. After sweet comments like “It’s been so long time since I’ve seen you Ms. Maggie- you got more beautiful!” and sharing about their holiday break, we played a few games of Simon Says until the university students arrived for our scheduled interview. And back at home it felt so comfortable to hang out with my host siblings, catching up and goofing around in Javanese rather than trying to decipher the local Sasak language of Lombok. Truth be told, I would have loved to stay in Kuta and the surrounding area longer to explore and document ‘The Lives of Child Hawkers’, but it was the absolute greatest feeling to be enthusiastically greeted by both my les kids and high school students. And so concludes this holiday journey. It feels good to be home.

Some things you don't ask why in IndonesiaScottand I left Medan and headed into the central highlands in our mullet-guidedmissile (more commonly known as Indonesian minibus). Road travel in Indonesiais always interesting. There's acomplete lack of road laws, no police enforcement, and a strange Indonesiantendency to get carsick really easily. So you can always expect to beentertained, surprised, and/or terrified on your trip.

Scott and I keep it real on the mini-bus while the Indonesian family keeps it real carsickFor example, looking out the window while going up a twisty and busy mountain road and seeing a man standing and riding on the top of a minibus.

Surprising? Check. Terrifying? Check. Entertaining? Check.

Or having a guy almost fall out of the minibus after the door he was leaning on suddenly popped open. Surprising? Check. Terrifying? Check.

Or a little girl throwing up milk all over Scott's backpack.

Surprising? Check. Entertaining? Check (at least for me).

Or flying around blind corners in an old bus praying no one is coming around the other side.

Terrifying? Check. Check. Check.

Mainstreet Berastagi. Notice the cabbage monument: classyLuckily, we made it to Berastagi safely. We wandered around the beautiful highland town, and were sad we couldn't stay longer. There's some good hiking in the area, but after our Tangkahan elephant fiasco ate up 3 days, we had to keep moving.

Rice paddy view on the way from Berastagi to KetambeAfter one night in Berastagi, we headed to Ketambe. Situated just outside the entrance to Gunung Leuser National Park, the village of Ketambe is pretty much just a collection of guesthouses and a few scattered residents. Welcome to the jungleWe signed up for a day-trek through the jungle to some hot springs, with the hope of seeing some cool animals along the way. I've never been in a "jungle," so I was pretty stoked for the hike.

Sign at the entrance of the park. I think it means "one tree is important," i.e. don't cut it down illegal loggerCool vinesOur trusty guide wore a blue fedora, black sweatpants tucked into socks, and chinese soccer cleats so I knew we were in good hands. He also took various smoke breaks during the trip, but was remarkably less fatigued than either me or Scott.

Nothing like a smoke break in the jungleUnfortunately, we didn't see a lot of wildlife during the trek. We saw a couple varieties of monkeys and some shiny bugs, but that was pretty much it. The highlight was a brief glimpse of a horn-billed pelican.

Scott and the guide make their way through the vines (left side of the picture)

Surprisingly, the jungle itself was enough to keep our attention. Everything was enormous and there was various species of parasitic vines and trees that are constantly choking and killing each other. It just felt alive in a way that I haven't experienced before on a hike.Me and the treeAbout halfway to the hot springs our guide asked us, "Mau tarzan?" (Do you want Tarzan?) We gave a hesitant and confused "Ya??" and he directed us to a natural vine swing. "Oohhhh... Tarzan." What followed was a super fun swing that got about 25 feet off the ground.

I take a swing on the "Tarzan" vine, with Scott doing the same in the photos aboveAfter the vine swing, we continued our trek. The trail was often slippery and steep, and I took more than a few tumbles. Soon, the guide took it upon himself to hold my hand (literally and figuratively) at every difficult section. Even though I was decked out in a "Boulder, CO tuxedo" (waterproof hiking boots, quick-dry hiking pants and shirt, and technical backpack), I still needed help from a guy in a blue fedora and plastic soccer cleats. My Colorado outdoorsy pride was sufficiently crushed. The only way I could console myself was that at least I didn't get leeches.

Scott and the treeFor some reason, the leeches really liked Scott. It probably didn't help that he wore shorts during the trek. He ended up picking off 4 or so leeches over the course of the day. One latched itself between his toes when we were crossing a small river. He got the complete jungle experience.

Checking out the tree that sheds its barkLeeches aside, we finally made it to the natural hot springs in the jungle. After lunch and a relaxing soak, we safely made our way back.

Scott and the guide in the hot springsBoth of us were pretty tired from the day, but our chain-smoking guide was as fresh as ever. He grabbed us a fresh cocoa bean pod to try. About the size of a large potato, the inside is filled with white fleshy covered chocolate beans. The flesh has a nice sweet taste that's hard to describe (the closest thing I can think of is Mangosteen, but I'm not sure if you've had that either). I was happy for another "Oh, so that's where that comes from..." moment and a good day in the jungle. Our Sumatra Christmas would continue the next day as we headed north again. Sharia-law and excellent coffee would await us...

This is where chocolate comes from. The actual chocolate beans are inside the white fleshy stuff

On Sunday, team Ngawinegoro led a regency-wide teachers’ workshop. How we got the deal is still a mystery. But because it happened—I was there, it’s worth unpacking some fresh reflections. Erin and I convened at John H.’s place the afternoon before. Aided by cookies, we hammered out a presentation in five hours (kira-kira). The assigned [...]

Three hundred days in Indonesia has earned me the right to make clichés about mountains and life. I’ve been hiking a lot recently. I’ve been hiking mountains. And been hiking a separate journey in my mind. I’ve been slipping a … Continue reading →

Upon meeting any Indonesian stranger for the first time, among the repertoire of predictable questions asked, tucked away between ‘sudah lama di sini?‘ (how long have you been here)  and ‘sudah menikah?‘ (are you already married) comes ‘sudah pernah ke … Continue reading →

Assalamualaikum waramatullahi wabarakatuh! I’ve been ruminating over the past week or so about how I’ve been changing recently, and what exactly it means. That really sounds like something you’d read in the puberty section of a junior high health text, but it remains applicable nonetheless. Before coming to Indonesia, there were a few words that

Though the group I traveled with visited several places while on vacation in Bali last month, we covered the most ground the first day. We took an overnight train on Christmas from Surabaya and arrived in Ketapang, Banguwangi (Java Port) in the wee hours of the morning the next day. Though dreary from the train [...]

Here we go with round two…. From a speaking assessment in which students had to ask me one question in English (unfortunately most were rather unimaginative due to the lack of language skills, but I enjoyed these): “Why are you not yet married?” Do you hear the connotation in that? “Do you like tomatoes?” Sure, why not? [...]

so last week I sat around and watched some youtube videos with my host fam and shared some music that we both like. It was a pretty interesting cultural exchange I must say..

I also ran across a video of this police office who made a music dance video to an Indian song. He became pretty famous around the time that I came to Indo and all they showed on TV were little clips.. I finally watched it (not all 6 minutes) and i have to say it was pretty funny.. Now my idea of funny may have changed since coming here.. But most of the video (about 4 minutes) is pretty good.. Luckily I was surrounded by my host sisters as I was laughing - side note - laughing while by yourself makes you look crazy.. I found this out when I was reading something online and I started laughing. My friend and my host mother stopped in my doorway and started calling me crazy.. I explained I was reading some funny stories and they just couldnt understand why I was laughing.. by myself.. at my computer.. Sometimes I really dont get what they think here.. I mean I know its not normal to sit and laugh at a computer screen.. all the time.. but at least I was doing something and not starring blankly at the screen.. I dunno..

it was an interesting week of computer tech/ culture exchange..

SO! The videos..

First: Briptu Norman singing Chaiya Chaiya (Which is from India..)

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=a-m4SxEvnXA

This second one is one most people have already seen BUT its totally worth watching again. In the beginning of January some people got married and then the husband did a dance for his wife.. yeah yeah.. Crazy thing is.. this couple is friends with one of the volunteers here, no other than Daniel (from my training village) PRETTTTTYYY crazy.. and such a small small world..

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sF9XBYHrwtk

Third: Two weeks ago I went to a woman's prayer group at the musholla by my house (small mosque). There I got to sit for maybe an hour and listen to the women pray and honestly it was one of the most relaxing things.. Ever.. It was kinda like listening to chant music which sometimes is really soothing. I probably could have fallen asleep to them singing. Next time I will have to bring my camera and video it. Trying to find an example on youtube is surprisingly hard..

(yeah totally impossible.. ill try again soon..)

Finally a little video of one of the most popular tv shows in Indo: Sean the Sheep. Pretty sure this comes from England or somewhere around there. Anyways its pretty amusing and one of the easiest shows to watch - no indonesian :)

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=e5RMn-9_3Hg

It's not really mine but it's the closest I have to a "home" right now.

The front porch with the new gate.

The fancy living room where we only sit if company comes to visit.

My bedroom with the mosquito net over the bed and all my family & friends photos fixed to the net so that I don't make nail holes in the wall.

Me, my host mother and my host father - both many years younger than I am. He's a retired policeman. They were on their way to have their pictures taken for an official photo.

My daughter and I washing clothes when she came to visit.

The bathroom with the squat toilet and the "mandi" tub of water. The dipper is for bathing and washing up after using the toilet.

One of the students who also is a boarder at my house, ironing in the hallway outside my bedroom.

The outside kitchen where all the cooking takes place.

Laundry drying outside my room.

And my nearest neighbors, the alarm clock chickens who live 8 feet from my bedroom window.

as i please, homegirl got a new camera. back to. i’m trying to do weekly themes. this week? on the porch. i hang with this crew of ladies and gents every evening after school. they’re my social life, and i’m so happy. i wouldn’t have made it to within four months of close of service [...]

Flip open your English-Indo dictionary to “volcano” and you’ll find gunung. Thumb backwards to “mountain” and you’ll find—surprise—gunung again. Welcome to the Ring of Fire, where all mountains are volcanoes, where everything on the horizon has a temperamental history. And more specifically, welcome to Java, where the Earth’s recent past has been at its most [...]

Hello all! I’ve decided to make a new blog, just for my Indonesian adventures, since my other blog has been linked to some Peace Corps websites, but I won’t actually be using to write about Peace Corps for a few … Continue reading →

It’s about time for an update! Most/all of you who follow my blog will know this by now, but just to make it official (and to give you the juicy details), I will be heading off to East Java, Indonesia … Continue reading →

I’m sitting on a microbus minding my business. It’s just me, thirteen Indos, and a few soon to be chicken dinners heading back from town. As we bump along, I look out the opposite window. Paddy. Paddy. Haircut place. Paddy. There’s something reassuring about the constancy. Satisfied, I turn away from the window and fish [...]

A 30-minute flight from Denpasar and we safely landed at Lombok’s new international airport. So new, in fact, that up until the point we touched down I thought we were flying to the old airport- in a different city- erroneously reassured by the destination printed on our tickets. After a moment of panic as I tried to confirm where we’d actually be meeting the two Nishas and Travis who would be flying in from Surabaya in a few hours, we sat down on the virtually deserted airport floor to pass the time playing cards. Three tall fair-haired girls shuffling and dealing was apparently the most entertaining thing the airport staff had seen in awhile, and in next to no time we were surrounded by an audience of 20+ airport drivers, travel coordinators, and security personnel clad in military garb giving us game advice while simultaneously trying to figure out the rules. Needing a break from cigarette smoke and propositions of matrimony, I scooted to the outskirts of the pack and naturally struck up a conversation with the only two people under the age of 20- two sixth grade boys whose parents were working in the adjacent fields. Before Indonesia I was never the person to approach kids and start up an educational dialogue, but I find myself doing it regularly here; on buses, beaches, and, apparently, airport floors. I can’t pass up the opportunity for a student to modestly show off his/her English skills by diffidently spewing out the numbers 1-10 or passing my colors quiz. I love the unpretentious smiles that cross their faces when they can answer what their name is or what class they’re in. I’m not sure I could be a career teacher, but I’m convinced that there will always be a little piece of me that appreciates an impromptu lesson.

Hanging Out at the Airport While Their Parents Work in the Field

As the sun set on the Bali Sea and all of its island dwellers, we glided over the turbulent waves to the tiny island of Gili Trawangan. Notorious for its party reputation and international SCUBA status, we figured it would be an ideal place to spend the New Year while half of us got dive certified. The days and nights leading up to 2012 were spent lazing about with only minor intervals of physical activity. We rented bikes the first day and journeyed most of the way around the small island until the sand became too wearisome to pedal through. That same evening Ashley and I rode over to the western side of the island to watch the equatorial sun descend behind the infamous Balinese mountain we had conquered just days before. Well, Ashley conquered, I stumbled down. After seeing it across miles of sea, I began to take more pride and express less resentment towards our prior feat- that was a big pile of rocks that we climbed!Ashley Watching the Sun Set Over Bali

Early Morning Boats and Clouds

Another afternoon was spent snorkeling off a boat in between the other minuscule Gili islands then grabbing a noontime bite to eat on the practically uninhabited Gili Air. On a few occasions we also managed to make our way down to the rocky beach- the result of broken coral washing up on shore due to flawed tourism practices. I’m neither excluding myself, nor claiming to be an ecological expert, but I did try to minimize the impact I was having on the surrounding aquatic environment. Although there are reconstructive measures taking place to help restore the adjoining reefs, there is still a lot of room to educate both tourists and locals about ways to help prevent further devastation of the contiguous coral and marine life.Waiting for Lunch on Gili Air

Broken Coral Beach Boats Down at the Beach

And, as happens most years, another 365 days had inconspicuously passed and we found ourselves counting down the hours then the minutes to 2012. While enjoying the last moments of 2011, we were subjected to, unarguably, the worst DJ ever. That didn’t stop my fabulous friends and I from having a blast on the dance floor- a true testament to how amazing the people I surround myself with are. One may wonder why we didn’t leave the appalling music (I’m talking “Ice, Ice Baby” and “U Can’t Touch This”) and I answer with this: the inebriated horde of exceedingly underage locals blocking the street made it nearly impossible to change locales without getting groped and gawked at. I like to think I’m a fairly tolerant person, but even sweet little Nisha was ready to throw down in an attempt to defend her personal space. I’m glad we had our token boys with us, but if truth be told, I’d rather Nisha had my back any day of the week. Even with the temporary off-putting vibes surrounding the mob, New Years Eve 2012 will forever be one for the memory books. Front row, beachside seats to a spectacular fireworks show shimmering back in the waves before us. A post-midnight swim in the warm ocean water. And fully grasping, yet once again, that this is my life and I am one lucky girl.Our Initial New Years Crew for the Night

Fabulous FriendsFireworks from the Boats

Midnight Fireworks

*Tune in soon for the final installment of this 4-part series, Adventures in the Bali Sea*

If you recall me taking my first vacation after being at site for 3 months last September, in parts one, two, and three, trying to hold strong to those feelings of elation as long as possible, I regurgitated into words … Continue reading →

One of the places visited in Bali was Gua Gajah in Ubud. It’s a Hindu cave-temple-scared-jungle place. Gua Gajah means Elephant Cave. The dense jungle, fountains and temple ruins made for an interesting different and beautiful landscape, take a peek for yourself: And last but not least a group photo in front of the entrance [...]

I wouldn’t make a very good housewife. This is because I am apparently incapable of satisfactorily performing household chores. I know it’s hard to believe but my Ibu (host mother) can verify this. She laughs when I try to help with householf chores, but it is only in the most endearing way. And now for proof… [...]

I have not blogged in a long time—a few things and/or not a lot of things have happened since my last post, depending on the perspective. School and life have been chugging on in a routine that is sometimes boring, but most times comforting. Semester three ended. I settled into my new home (I love it so much, except for the birds). I did some training events. At the end of October I visited my parents in Hawaii (with a quick 18-hour stop in Manila on the way) and had an amazing week spending time with them. Thank you Aunt Cathy and Uncle Lou, again, for letting us use those sweet digs. Being back on American soil was not as strange or jarring as I anticipated—on the contrary, the whole week was very chill and relaxed, and I was happy to come back to Indonesia.I’m now into my last of four semesters (at this school at least*) and am starting to feel the press of the all-too-quickly approaching end date (May-June-ish). Five months left is not a lot of time. I don’t feel pressured in such a way that ‘OH GOD GOTTA DO SOMETHING BIG TO SECURE MY LEGACY QUICK HOW LONG DOES IT TAKE TO BUILD A STATUE OF MYSELF AND MAKE EVERYONE FLUENT IN ENGLISH’; it’s more that I want to make sure that I make good use of the rest of my time (not squander it watching TV in my room) and keep a good handle on the relationships I have.This week in particular—the start of a new semester, back from holiday vacation, new students and new classes—I’m seeing inklings of what my impact has been on my community/school, how the things that I’ve tried to do will be sustained after I leave. It’s bittersweet (because I won’t be here forever, a lot of the day-to-day challenges remain, and I haven’t achieved everything I wanted to in two years, which, admittedly, was foolhardy and those goals were tossed out the window three days into my service), but mostly it’s heartening to see that, yes, I think a little but of what I’ve been doing (intentionally or not) sunk in and had a positive impact on one or more persons.Here are three anecdotes (about my co-teacher, my students, and my neighborhood kiddos) from this week:

Cip is justifiably super duper excited about a workshop he attendedMy counterpart, Pak Cipto came back from the semester break extraordinarily excited to tell me about his experience at a workshop he attended. While we were leading English Club on Tuesday afternoon, he said, “I couldn’t wait to share about this amazing experience with you.” He was surprised (and proud) to have been invited to a civil servant workshop (he is not a civil servant, and he was also one of the youngest participants in attendance) and, further, to be spotlighted as a ‘model teacher’ and asked to present a session about lesson planning. He taught the other 90 (all more senior than him) teachers about lesson planning and how working with a PCV and attending training has helped him become a better teacher.He was astounded by the awe and excitement expressed by the other teachers following his presentation, and their intentions to try and share these new “so simple and fun” methods. He said that he came a bit late to another session during the workshop and he asked some other attendees what he had missed; they told him, “We haven’t been doing anything, we’ve been waiting for you to teach us more.” I was so happy not only to see how Pak Cipto independently and enthusiastically passed on this information, but also how excited he was to tell me about this event and how proud he was to share with others how his experience with Peace Corps has improved his teaching.

The beauty of Batik BojonegoroanOn Saturday, several students from my school presented at an expo for Project Based Learning (basically, educational projects funded by grants from the Sampoerna Foundation). One of thirteen schools, their booth was on the production of batik, and the science, art, and history of batik in Bojonegoro. They demonstrated how to paint batik, presented on their studies, sold the products, and modeled some super fly self-designed clothes. They worked hard on their project and it showed. Not to be biased, but SMANESS definitely had the best booth at the expo. (SMA Dander also had some tasty snacks to sell.) Photos can be seen here.I was really happy to go support them and spend a morning hanging out, joking around with the students (especially Johan and Ayu, two of my best, most motivated, smartest students from last year, who asked me beforehand to help prepare an English presentation for the exhibit), and I got a pang of sentimentality over how I’m going to miss them. And miss beautiful Bojo batiks.

It was probably unsafe to have that many kids jumping on my bedToday, when my kidlings were hanging out at my house (as they are wont to do most every day) and asked to take drawing paper home with them when they left, they said ‘thank you’ (unprompted and in English, no less), which was a big step since we’ve been working for a long time on politeness, socializing and manners (also basic music theory, art, English, cooking, football, and how to be a dinosaur). I’ve recounted to a few people that I often feel like Maria Von Trapp in my neighborhood (minus any romance, intrigue or Nazis), and I don’t mind it. I kinda like it. I’ve unwittingly become an afternoons-and-evenings ward to 8-16 children; I’ve taken them to the market and (not) impressed them with my (in)ability to juggle tomatoes, we’ve run rain-soaked through the streets, I’ve led sing-alongs while wearing a kerchief, and have comforted them during a thunderstorm…no alpine-themed puppet shows yet, but there’s still time. They’re fun companions, and it’s nice to know that the parents like me and that the kids are learning something. I still have a text message from Johan (the student mentioned above) from a few months ago, on a day with the kidlets and I went to the market to get lemons for tabbouleh (they didn’t love it, but they were excellent mint leaf pickers): “Miss… who is the childs together with you, when you’re in the pasar??… They look so happy with you and they’re so cute..hahah… xD”. Here and here and here are some photos taken by the kiddos (burgeoning photographers all).

*So with five months to go at this assignment, I’ve requested to extend my service (originally 27 months) for a third year at another site, either in Java or another province (dependent on if the program and Indonesian government wants/needs/can use me). All of this is tentative until final decisions are made, but I’m really excited for it.

Christmas day 2011 started with a scenic bemo ride from Sideman down to the cultural center of Ubud where Ashley and I would ultimately meet up with my PC friend Sarah. Despite a minor altercation with a dishonest bemo driver whilst attempting to commence our journey, we quickly became enchanted with the surrounding landscape and unconcerned about when we would reach the city. Even with our distracted minds, we couldn’t help but notice that we must be getting closer to our final destination as the Indonesian-Tourist ratio steadily inverted so that the local population was soon in the minority. After 2 years in a conservative village, I found myself trying not to gawk at the pale underdressed foreigners as if they were some kind of anomaly. I can now relate to my students’ initial reaction to having a stereotypical American enter the classroom for the first time; I predict some serious reverse culture shock once I’m back stateside. We settled into our gorgeous hotel room with a view (thanks to Sarah’s logic that one’s allowed to splurge during the holidays) and full-heartedly welcomed the realization that this was our life. Reliable internet access for Skyping, a lagoon-like swimming pool, and my first taste of delicious suckling pig- not the worst way to spend my final Christmas in Indonesia. Nothing else extraordinarily noteworthy happened; just mohitos at the Laughing Buddha and enjoying the company of good friends, old and new. Sunset From Our Hotel Window

Gunung Agung From Afar

Christmas Mohitos

We only spent a few days in Ubud, but my first impression of the cultural hub of Bali was much more positive than that of its overdeveloped neighbor to the South, Kuta. I embraced the traditional art, food, music, and morning yoga of Ubud, while all together savoring my first bite of reasonably authentic Mexican food in over 20 months, ordering a delicious pitcher of sangria and perusing the handicraft shops clearly intended for tourists. Ashley and I also spent a couple of hours walking through the jungle oasis of the Sacred Monkey Forest Sanctuary, taking pictures of the adorable little primates and scoffing at the people trying to feed them ice cream then kicking at the poor macaques when they got too close. I’m not claiming to be an ape expert, but I’m pretty sure that’s not considered appropriate etiquette towards monkeys.Family of Macaques The following day we happened upon the funeral procession for a member of the Balinese royal family. The vibrantly adorned funeral tower, or bade, carrying the deceased was making its way from Ubud Palace toward the hallowed Hindu temple Pura Dalem Puri at the heart of the city. Leading the colossal multi-tiered bade was a massive manmade bull ornamented in gold which would later serve as the final cremation vessel. Both creations were being transported atop substantial bamboo frameworks carried on the shoulders of at least 100 men in black and white checkered sarongs and traditional Balinese turbans. As the convoy of family members, locally concerned citizens, and incongruous tourists in tank tops and short shorts (this writer was to some extent more appropriately dressed for an impromptu funeral) made its way to the public Palabon (royal cremation) site, a marching gamelan orchestra gonged along, changing tempos as the route altered. As the throng went uphill or around a corner, the gonging got louder and faster. I discovered afterwards that the increase in tempo and momentary bursts of running or sudden shifting from left to right- all while carrying the giant structures- was an attempt to confuse the evil Balinese demons which are also conveniently deceived by corners; hence the customary wall immediately past the entrance to many Balinese complexes.Example of Immediate Wall After the Entrance

The Gamelan Gongs Following the Bade...Around a Corner

Once the mob of spectators reached the temple, a set of bamboo stairs was brought over to the newly stationary funerary tower. Porters transferred the corpse from the highest level of the bade to the hollow bull below. Again, the gamelan rhythm increased in intensity as the anticipation of moving the body augmented. Those bearing the recently departed (well, 2 weeks ago departed) under the cover of brightly colored parasols, laughed jovially as camera-wielding tourist snapped away (I’ll plead the Fifth as to whether or not I partook in similar imprudent actions). The body was placed in the bull sarcophagus, feet facing southward so as to walk in the direction of the dead, followed unceremoniously by the departed’s last effects in an unremarkable white plastic bag. Family members walked counterclockwise (the dead always to the left) around the tomb 3 times carrying offerings and a garlanded photo of the deceased as a sign of respect. Female relatives in sarongs and matching emerald green lace tops and silk sashes waited patiently nearby, impressively balancing ornate offerings of fruit, flowers and palm leaves on their heads as priests whispered holy mantra beseeching a safe journey of the soul. The bundled offerings would eventually be relinquished in a seemingly unmethodically manner at the base of the funeral pyre. According to Balinese Hindu belief, the final rites must be carried out quite meticulously otherwise the spirit of the dead could remain a ghost, unable to join his/her ancestors. Tradition also dictates that after the soul ascends into heaven (following cremation) it is eventually reincarnated in another being, usually a future family member, in a never ending life cycle.Towering Bade on Bamboo Frame

Moving the Body from the Bade

Transferring the Body to the BullCarrying the Offerings to the Pyre

A light rain began to mist the funerary backdrop and soon hard drops pelted down. Those dogged enough to witness this unique experience in its entirety huddled under the nearby roof protecting the gong and gamelan ensemble from the natural elements. Family members lit incense and approached the raised bull facing regally towards the North. All at once the previously majestic bull went up in flames, smoke and ash spiraling from all conceivable directions. In order to ensure a speedy cremation, high-powered gasoline pumps were vigorously pushed towards the bull’s underside and the scent of benzene mixed with burnt hair quickly permeated the vicinity. Within minutes the bull’s stomach collapsed and a charred foot dropped out, exposing the skeletal remains. Another result of being immersed in a new culture for 2 years is the capability to observe a cultural event objectively; whereas this might have been a disturbing image prior to Peace Corps life, I was able to watch the scene without feelings of queasiness. That being said, I’m opting not to get into the gory details of the sounds, sights and smells of frying fat, charcoaled bones and roasting flesh. It’s enough to say that the flames bursting from all sides of the imperial bovine pyre were a sure sign of the soul’s inevitable liberation.Lighting the IncenseApproaching the Bull

And the Liberation Begins

Despite the seemingly somber act of saying goodbye to a loved one, relatives and onlookers alike seemed quite good-humored during the event. After all, the cremation represented the successful execution of a most sacred responsibility: releasing the soul from its earthly body to continue its journey into heaven and beyond.

High-Powered Hoses

After the hours-long process fizzled to an end, the thing that stuck with me the most was the shifting blend of mysticism and modernity. Gasoline pipes instead of traditional wood to feed the fire. Shorter bade than in years past due to the abundance of electrical cables lining the streets. Traditional lace tops and Balinese sarongs next to t-shirts and sunglasses. Incense and cigarette smoke blending together as relatives say their final goodbyes. One can only speculate as to the effects our ever globalizing world will have on the future of Balinese cremation rituals as technology, ostentatious displays and the concept of “quicker is better” become increasingly ubiquitous around the world.And on that note, so concludes my time in Bali. Next stop: Lombok and Gili Trawangan!

Oh hey there, 2012! Just returned from quite the epic vacation. Epic in length (~three weeks), epic in locations visited (~nine places), epic because I shot over sixteen hundred photographs, epic in the emptiness of my current bank account status … Continue reading →

Rintik-rintik hujan berderu deras

Menusuk akan qolbu yang keras

Walau tak mampu menjadi pelumas

'Ntuk ketenangan diri yang lemas

Diri yang tak memahami akan kasih sayang

Tak pernah berharap memiliki umur panjang

Semua hanya terbayang bagai penghalang

Untuk berjumpa kepada Sang Penyayang

Diri yang tak ingin terjerumus jurang cinta

Hanya tak ingin memberi harapan hampa

Yang banyak menyesatkan umat manusia

Dari pertemuan kepada Sang Pencipta

Sungguh tak ada maksud untuk menyakiti

Hamba hanya manusia seorang diri

Terkadang salah terkadang tak dimengerti

Maaf.... maaf bila kau mau memahami....

-JeQ

So before queuing this blog entry, I notice that I have reached over 90 blog entries in my time here.. some fellow volunteers haven't even pushed over 50.. so you all should be grateful that I have no life and take the time to spill my soul on these, uhm, pages..

If you couldn't already tell I am in a queer mood. It hit me today, almost literally, that I am in fact in another country. I was riding my bike back from visiting my first host family and i was kinda zoning, which is NOT a good thing to do. And I was thinking, "Wow.. I'm in the Peace Corps (uh duh..) and I am in another country which is awesome.." and then a car starts driving in my lane to make a right hand turn (which is like a left turn in the US). And it really hit me.. I'm in another country. I could be hit and I am not entirely sure that this car would stop.. Better watch the road.. Wise eh?

Its weird. Ive been here for almost a year yet it STILL hits me that I am not home. I know I get homesick and at times am so frustrated with everything that I want to punch something, I still manage to forget that I am where I am. Being around my new family, and maybe the fact that last week I only left my house once, made me forget where I am.. Which is odd because 90% of what comes out of my mouth is another language. Strangely enough I find myself occasionally thinking in Indonesian. As soon as my mind figures out whats going on I pause, a little confused, shake my head and continue on thinking in another language.. I am going to come home and lo, wah allah, iki lo, and maaf are going to become a permanent part of my vocabulary.. So hear me out before you think I am making up a new language. I am running on too many languages.

so yes this is my rambling of the week heck maybe of the year. I still cant wrap my head around where I am at and what I am doing.. Kinda makes you wonder what goes on in my classes doesn't it.. Hehe..

love you all :)

love the crazy little me

Maybe it was Uncle Ted’s endless slideshows. Maybe Grandma’s dusty photo albums. Sometime or another, we’ve all experienced the horror: backed into a corner, forced to grimly smile on as relative “x” gave a free, marathon master class on Floridian flora or Italian architecture. Because they went there. On vacation. For ten days. I’ll try [...]

The bus from Medan to Tangkahan: The drapes really class up the busMy first holiday break came not a moment too soon, and I headed off with fellow PCV (Peace Corps Volunteer) Scott who teaches in Madura. We wanted to get a taste of North Sumatra, a diverse area with jungle, highlands, and sharia law. Scott's plan was to start in the city of Medan and head north through Gunung Leuser National Park and the Goya Highlands, and eventually end up in Banda Aceh. With no set plan, we would just with the flow of things.

Curious kid on the busAfter arriving in Medan on Christmas morning, we went straight from the airport to the bus terminal and off to our first destination, Tangkahan. Supposedly, they had elephant rides, rafting, and jungle treks so we figured we couldn't go wrong.

Driving through endless palm oil plantations to TangkahanThe bus was rusted out, but had character (I think it was the purple and pink drapes). The four-hour journey passed through endless palm oil and rubber tree plantations. Slowly, the road turned into dirt, towns disappeared, and Scott and I were the last people on the bus. It was dark and pouring rain by the time we arrived in Tangkahan. We ran through the rain to a little warung (a small simple restaurant), and over some mie goreng (fried noodles) we got a place to stay and called it a night.

The rivers and simple ferry We awoke the next morning to see that Tangkahan is a nice little place. Situated at the confluence of two rivers, it's just a little tourist spot in the jungle with a few guesthouses and restaurants. Most of the guest houses are across the river and accessed only by a little ferry made out of rusted oil drums and wood. The ferry is tied to one bank upriver and it just has a single rudder to go back and forth across the river. It was simple and worked great.

Taking the ferry acrossAfter getting a place at a guest house across the river, we tried to get set up with one of the elephant rides through the jungle. But our casual-trip attitudes backfired when we found out all had been booked for the next four days. All we could do was hope for was a cancellation. In the meantime we decided to go tubing down the river. I have no pictures from the river trip, but it was a great lazy trip through the jungle and we got to play around in a little waterfall. Nice.

Scott's a mosquito killin' machineThe rest of our day was spent relaxing, reading, and killing mosquitoes in our little bungalow that overlooked the river. The place only had electricity in the evening when they fired up a generator. It was simple and beautiful.

The porch of our little bungalow. The river is down below.On the second day in Tangkahan still no one had cancelled, so we decided to head up to the elephant place to see if we could schmooze our way into an elephant ride. We failed. All they would offer is an elephant washing session, which just sounded like a great way to make tourists pay to do work. But we were desperate and wanted some kind of elephant interaction before we left. So we signed up for the afternoon washing session and headed back across the river to our bungalow for lunch.

Elephants: So close, but so far away...But after we crossed, it began to rain again (it's monsoon season). The rivers rose and turned a muddy brown. We found out that the ferry couldn't cross the river again that day, and we were stuck at our bungalow until the next morning. This meant no afternoon elephant washing and also screwed up our plans to leave early the next morning. The main reason we came to Tangkahan was now clearly out of reach. We spent the rest of the rainy afternoon being bitter PCV's and just wanting to get out of Tangkahan and back on the road again.

Scott takes the walk of shame after being unable to schmooze our way into an elephant rideThe next morning we packed up and took the ferry across the river to take the bus back to Medan. A couple of German girls were also going back across. They happily told us that last night someone had cancelled, so they were going on an elephant ride now. Scott and I looked at each other incredulously. We had definitely arrived before the Germans and told the elephant place to let us know if anyone cancelled. I'm pretty sure we briefly considered throwing the Germans into the river and taking their spots on the elephant rides. But we ended up just leaving Tangkahan in silence with our heads hanging low. The elephant place wouldn't even refund us for the elephant washing we didn't get to do the day before.

Where the hell did he get that sweatshirt from?We rode back to Medan empty handed and more than a little bitter about the whole experience. I believe the final score was Tangkahan--98 versus Scott and John--0. But there were signs our luck was turning around: The first sign came in the form of a Denver Broncos sweatshirt worn by some random Indonesian on the bus. Both Scott and I are Colorado natives, so we took it as a good sign.

The next sign that ourluck was turning was what I can confidently deem the best mullet in the world. We saw it while we were waiting for ournew bus to go to our next destination. I was lucky enough to snap a picture ofsuch an elusive creature. It was more than just "business up front, partyin the back" but "classyConan Obrian-esque business up front, and epicIndonesian party in the back." What was more auspicious was that thisman, this man, was our bus driver!Wha?!!?!? Suddenly, the pain and bitterness of not getting to ride elephantsmelted away. All Scott and I could see now were black swoopy waves of epic-nessin front of us. We traveled on and headed north into the highlands ofBerastagi...

I believe time stopped and all the Gods smiled when this epic mullet was created

To this day, the smell of rice fresh from the cooker reminds me of summer days spent at the Nguyen’s. With four kids all around the same age, their house offered the action I was seeking in my youth. I spent a full week at their house once simply because at the end of each day of playing post office, making friendship bracelets, or watching Summer School starring Mark Harmon for the 43rd time, I still wanted more.

Each summer, my extended family also smuggled me into IBM family day for a glorious day of free food and awesome rides (one might find it curious that a Vietnamese family would adopt a pale, white girl, but I guess you never know - and the lax authorities never questioned it). We’d return home, and Little Mommy Minh would serve up fried wontons and “salty meat". I’d happily scarf it down with a ton of white rice as my friend, Khiem, opted for American fare. “This is where I was meant to be”, I thought.

In college, I was in the Asian Student Association, not because I was particularly interested in Asian issues, and I wasn’t obsessed with Asian culture in that skinny-nerdy-white-guy-with-glasses-who-ends-up-with-an-Asian-wife kind of way. I ended up there because my friends, Hoa and Alex, would always invite me to the events which oftentimes involved free food and volleyball on the lawn. Who could refuse? Eventually, I found myself on the ASA volleyball intramural team and attending most of the outings (I mean, who doesn’t like Dim Sum?). I did, however, have to draw the line when I was asked to run for officer because I was one of the few members who actually showed up to events. Sorry to let you down, Don.

The point of all this is I grew up with some warped stereotypes - one being that all Asians are nice. I mean all Asians I met were nice. Seemed to me like a pretty logical conclusion to draw. I am only realizing now that in my youth I would always go out of my way to befriend the Asian kid. With the white kids, it was always a crap shoot, but the Asian kids were a particular brand of cool.

Imagine my surprise when watching an episode of “21 Jump Street” and Harry Ioki found himself going undercover in a Vietnamese gang that was up to no good. How could this be? Asian bad guys?! Lho (expression of disbelief)! Rocked my world. Then in high school, getting snubbed by a childhood friend, Neel Parekh, in the cafeteria really confirmed it.

“Hmm, could it be that generalizations are bad?” I thought to myself.

But even after these hard-hitting lessons, I still do it. My world is only as big as what I see or experience or what I choose to believe from what is told to me. Anything outside of that really gets sticky. Heck, even the stuff I see and experience is iffy.

Oh, Indonesia is big, you say? I see. Oh, and diverse? Sure I buy that, but it makes a difference when you actually get out and see sedikit (a little) more of it. I am in my little village blogging on about “what Indonesia is like”, and, turns out, I really have no idea. Sorry about that, folks. Check your mailboxes in upcoming weeks for a full refund.

And, I mean, how am I supposed to proceed here? I can't say anything is Indonesian, or even Javanese, for that matter. Can I even say East Javanese? Meh (shaking head). It is like reporting on "Indonesian culture" from the vantage point of...of...well...that guy in "My Cousin Vinny" who claimed he saw Ralph Macchio robbing the Sack O' Suds only after getting a glimpse through his crud-covered windows blocked by a bunch of trees. What would America look like if you heard stories and saw pictures solely from Wilkes-Barre, Pennsylvania? Or from Dearborn, Michigan (which, incidentally, is home to America's largest Muslim population)? Pret-ty different, I'd say.

I knew Bali was Hindu in contrast to my current Muslim roots, but after emerging from my East Java cocoon for the first time in 9 months, I was struck by the blatant tank-top wearing, the amount of temples (usually at least 3 per desa), the plethora of dogs everywhere (dogs are usually a "no no" for Muslims, so they are rare in my village), the availability of pork products (pigs also a "no no"), and the lack of mosques or a call to prayer. I am anxious now to get out and sample more of this Indonesian buffet.

In due time.

Anyhoo – here are some pics from a recent trip to Bali with some fellow volunteers. This event is also momentous as it commemorates the second Fitzgerald (of the Wappingers Falls Fitzgeralds) to set foot on Indonesian soil. There is now a plaque at Denpasar airport. To find it, go past those beefy Australian boys wearing the tight, white tank tops, take a left at the Russian guy swearing and yelling at all of the ticketing staff, and if you hit the American couple speaking loudly to their Balinese taxi driver who speaks perfect English, you’ve gone too far.

I mean, I guess not all generalizations are bad, right? Absolut Vodka bottles getting filled with bensin, or gasoline, to sell.

so this past weekend was my little host bros 2nd birthday. It was pretty different from the way we celebrate. They had a "party" kids just came, prayed, ate some food and then left. Made me wish for more chaos.. I wasnt really expecting anything but when they said party i thought there would at least be some games..

eh well.. Here are some pics enjoy :)

my ibu decorating the cake..

all done!

my friend holding the cake..

all the kids were wearing red.. kinda funny..

eating the cookies we made the day before..

all the food for the guests..

kids all waiting for the cake..

getting ready to blow out the candles..

ibu and bapak helping blow out the candles..

cutting the cake!

yum! :)

handing out the cake to all the guests.. i was the first one.. of course..

all the fam..

opening the presents.. getting a little crazy..

just so cute..

playing with the new noisemaker.. cannot wait until the batteries die..

i had to wait 20 minutes to get this laugh.. every time i turn the camera on him he just shuts down and looks confused.. he is the best when he is laughing.. so taking him back to america with me..

love you all :)

A recent sunset at my site looking towards Mt. Lawu with rice paddy and canal in the foregroundI've recently passed the six-month mark at site, and about nine months in Indonesia total. And David Bowie has me thinking, have I changed? Well, yes and no. But in some glaringly obvious ways, yes.

Many dream of Peace Corps service as an intense period of physical deprivation. There's visions of surviving on nothing but rice and twigs, and becoming thin and semi-malnourished. But somehow I've managed to single-handedly destroy that stereotype, and prove that yes, it is possible to gain weight in the Peace Corps.

If the scales are correct, I've put on at least twenty pounds in the nine months I've been in Indonesia. Of the six pairs of pants I've brought with me, I can only comfortably fit into one pair now. I have serious and real fears of "busting out" of my school uniform if I bend down or move too fast. My face has gotten rounder. Even my fingers seem to be fatter. Customary greetings with Indonesians now usually include, "Mr. Jhon, tambah gemuk?" (Mr. John, are you fatter?)

Picture taken during my first month in Indonesia with training host familyMost recent picture after 9 months in Indonesia with my current host familyThat's been the most obvious (and embarrassing) change so far. But what about the more subtle things? Has my personality changed any since I arrived?

Indonesia has forced me to step outside of my comfort zone (sometimes waayyyy outside). It has pushed me to be social when normally I'm not that social at all. It has pushed me to say "Yes" to all kinds of invitations. Sometimes this has led to amazing and unexpected experiences. Other times it has led me to crawl back into my room and blast my "Revival" playlist on the iPod. Slowly though, I have become a little more friendly and less "awkward turtle" like.

Keepin' it real (real safe) with fellow PCV Daniel P. at Daniel G.'s schoolOther things have changed too. What I thought were insurmountable obstacles the first few weeks I was in Indonesia, now "ain't no thing." Wiping with my hand? No problem. Questionable food safety practices? Ehhh... I'll risk it. Feeling reduced to a two-year-old? Ehhh... it's a learning experience. Getting moquito bites on my palms, fingers, and all over my feet? Ehhh... they only itch for a couple days. Not knowing what surprises will come up at school tomorrow (i.e. big meetings, class cancellations, patriotic events, etc.)? Ehhh... I'll just roll with the punches. Standing in front of 40 students with a lesson plan that could bomb spectacularly? Ehhh... I'll try it and see. Giving a speech and "motivation" in front of 150 elementary school students when you were originally under the assumption that it would just be 20 students? Ehhh... what a nice surprise. I'm just learning to go with all, both the awesome and frustratingly crazy.

Teaching at a Pre-School during training in May with other Tlekung village trainees (Photo: Paige Gable)Overall though, I think I may be adapting. (Which is a strange and terrifying thing if you think about it, so I try not to think about it.) In these last nine months, I've learned to keep laughing. Sometimes that's all that is keeping me afloat in this strange, amazing, contradictory, surprising, and confusing odyssey.

And with that, I'll end. I wish everyone a Happy New Year and miss you all. Thanks to all those who supported, encouraged, listened to, and helped me through 2011. The group of volunteers currently serving in Indonesia is awesome, and I'm glad to be with you all. My family and friends back home are still close at heart, and provide the support that keeps me going through this. Thanks for all the Christmas/Birthday cards and packages. I appreciate it and send my best from across the Pacific.

I haven’t done an especially great job blogging about my travels outside of Java, but seeing as the prospect of gallivanting around the world was a significant part of why I initially joined Peace Corps, I feel that it’s important to integrate my travel anecdotes into the increasingly uninteresting tales of life at site. Traveling from island to island offers new and wonderful (well, most of the time wonderful) experiences abroad, and I’ve therefore been inspired in Indonesia in ways I never anticipated. This past school holiday I was fortunate enough to travel around Bali-Lombok area for about 2 weeks where I was able to meet up with an old friend from home as well as a few of my favorite PC comrades. And thus begins PART I of my most recent journey… I’m proud to be a Colorado girl. Born and raised in a state that takes unpretentious gratification in its colorful outdoors and being active year round regardless of the season. So when the prospect of climbing Gunung Agung, the highest peak in Bali, presented itself (even though it’s the rainy season), I was completely onboard. What better place than Bali to hike my first volcano and who better to do it with than a friend visiting from my beloved home state? Eagerly anticipating the 2 am sunrise hike, we went to bed early- headlamps, warm clothes and provisions neatly tucked away in our backpacks. Our guide picked us up a few hours later and we were soon on our way to the sanctified site. Due to the impenetrable cloud cover coupled with a new moon, this most sacred mountain was completely imperceptible; had it not been for the immediate burning in my calves as we began the alleged 3-hour trek up, I may not have believed that we were actually at the base. Gunung Agung is considered the most holy mountain in Bali, which is the only predominantly Hindu area in all of Southeast Asia. A mere 5 minutes into our ascent and our mandatory guide stopped at the undetectable temple to make the first of 3 periodic offerings to the Hindu gods. Incense-and-floral-infused-banana leaf-basket offered, we continued, knowing that the spirits were on our side. It was a tough hike up, especially in the dark. But the benefit to starting so early was that we didn’t have to see the near perpendicular, jagged terrain we would be climbing. Had I been aware of the sheer incline, I may have been more hesitant to continue. But then again, probably not. A few hours later we paused again to hydrate and make the second woven leaf offering. Above the cloud barrier the stars were unbelievably clear. No light pollution and just the 3 of us on this divine mass. It was an unbelievable feeling; so removed from the chaos of my Javanese urban village. The mountain, still shrouded in pre-dawn darkness, deceptively gave the illusion that we were almost to the top. But as the first light began to illuminate the rice paddied landscape thousands of meters below, our guide informed us that we still had a very vertical climb above the tree line ahead of us. The obscure trail completely disappeared and we were forced to keep up with our mountain goat guide using our hands and shaky foot holds as he seemingly trotted up the mountain without the slightest hint of fatigue. But we made it! And with only minor aches and signs of weariness as a result of the arduous climb up. We savored our dry bread and hard boiled egg breakfast as we rested at the crater and tried to catch intermittent glimpses of the scenery below as green fields and coastline fleeted in and out of the clouds. We missed sunrise from the top, but I’m not sure we would’ve had the best view anyway. At the peak we were in a deep fog, but it still felt amazing to be at the top of the Balinese world.Rockin' my School's Neon Sport Uniform at the Top of Gunung Agung with the Fabulous Ashley GambleView Into the Crater

Last Offering Overlooking the Crater

After our final incense offering, we embarked on the downward voyage. One look down and I was suddenly struck with bewilderment as to how we managed to maneuver our way up in the first place. I was completely perplexed as to how we were going to get back down. Our guide, however, had no intention of analyzing the most secure route of descent, and once again trotted down the steep rock as I ungracefully slid my way down failing to keep pace. Several bumps, bruises, scratches and shaky muscles later, we still hadn’t made it to the tree line. I looked desperately to my friend who, despite saying that she was also in pain, was keeping fair stride with our guide. “Please call Peace Corps and have them medevac me off the mountain. My legs don’t seem to work anymore, so I think I’ll just stay here.” Where was my Colorado mentality now that I needed it most? The next 5 hours were full of similar sentiments and I cursed my initial enthusiasm for hiking this ridiculously steep mass of volcanic rock. If lava would only start to steadily stream out so I could float atop a hefty shard of rock over the seemingly infinite vastness to the microscopic temple below! Anything would be preferable to trying to use my legs…even luging down scorching molten rock.

Our Guide Getting Ready to Trot Down the Rugged Rock Face

What we Climbed Up. Then Down.

Again, we persevered and somehow endured the drawn out descent. As we walked past the now visible temple, worshipers steadily started to pour out of the ancient structure and glide by me in unimpressive sandals while simultaneously balancing oversized baskets on their heads. I felt completely incompetent at that point and in my state of hostility, vowed that I would never attempt to hike another volcano again. Those feelings have since faded, but at that point in time, the promise was made in all sincerity. I think I just needed a bit more time for the pain to fade in my memory and for the bliss of being back on a mountain to overshadow the resentful recollections of ineptly tumbling down my first volcano.Beautiful Balinese Girls at the Temple

Balinese Balancing

We spent the remainder of our time in the Agung area recovering in the remote little village of Sideman. We spent the afternoons walking through terraced rice fields sprinkled with tiny Hindu shrines permeated with the scent of strawberry incense and interacting with the local weaving community. Hand-woven shawls and sarongs start upwards from $100 for just 2 meters of the uniquely patterned cloth, and go into the thousands as the design gets more elaborate. Most pieces take months to weave using the wooden hand looms and are then exported and sold to wealthy foreigners abroad. It was incredible to see how quickly and flawlessly these women worked as they explained the process to us. Weaving and Talking

Weaving in Sideman Village

*And thus concludes the first part of my Balinese-Lombokian adventure. Stay tuned for future tales of Christmas, New Years, and near death at the waterfalls*

Maryellen and I at Tanah Lot Temple, Bali, after we washed with the holy spring water and were anointed with salt/rice.

Maryellen, Nicole, Colleen, Mike (Erin's brother) Erin and Brianna with traditional Balinese dancers.

Erika was not enthusiastic about the monkey on her and I doubt she really liked the buxom statue next to her either.

I took the picture with Nicole's camera of my Peace Corps friends: Brianna, Nicole, Maryellen & Erin jumping in the air on the beach.

But Nicole took most of the others and the Bromo ones I took off the internet. But I wanted you to see what a super vacation in Bali and Bromo Mountain in Java look like.

At the base of the steep steps you can see ponies that bring people to the crater edge. And in the plains there is a Hindu temple because this mountain is considered to be one of the most sacred mountains and the father of Mount Agung on Bali. We walked from beyond the temple to the top of the stairs. The picture is deceptive. It really isn't far.

All in all it was a super wonderful vacation - from the beaches of Bali to the top of the world at Bromo crater!

And then back to normal life... Yesterday all the students and teachers returned to school and we had a "stand at attention" ceremony to mark the beginning of the new semester and then NO teaching.

My counterpart explained that it's an Indonesian culture thing - when you come back from vacation everyone likes to chat for 1/2 a day.

Then all 50 teachers piled into cars and rode motorcycles to go see the new baby that one of the teachers had given birth to on Dec. 24th.

Have you ever been in a car with a butterfly? There was a huge black and gold butterfly that came with us to see the newborn. All the teachers were chatting about what they did for the 2 week vacation but I could hardly keep my eyes off such intense beauty!

And today: NO SCHOOL. A surprise extra day of vacation so that nationally certified teachers can attend a meeting in a nearby town.

And that brings me to: FRIED GOLDFISH

Before I tell you this story I want to tell you another story. Six and a half years ago I had a pond in my yard. Goldfish from finger size to 12 inches long swam in the recirculated water. I named all 20 of them: Big Mama, Goldie, Streak, White One, Spot, etc.

Then one day the fish started disappearing. About a week later I saw what was happening. A snake had grabbed one of the goldfish by its mouth and was dragging it out of the pond. I stomped on the snake but it would not release the goldfish. Finally I stopped so much that the snake died and let go of the fish. The fish lived. I cut up the snake and fed it to the turtle.

Then I did some research about snakes in New Mexico which eat fish. There is only one species. And I have forgotten the name but I found out that these snakes mate for life. And sure enough, a few days later I found another snake in the pond. This one I scooped out and put into a cardboard box and drove 5 miles to the nearest stream and released it in the water.

I felt bad about killing that snake but mostly I felt very protective of my little batch of goldfish.

Hi there! It has been far too long since I last wrote for which I sincerely apologize- I don’t really have any good excuse. I am busy here, but not so busy I don’t have the time to write. I think it has something to do with the total amount of time I can spend [...]

So I just got back from a splendid little vacay or liburan in Bali. I have tons of photos that will inevitably make it here, but for starters I thought I’d share some of my favorites that came Ubud’s Sacred Monkey Forest.

Track and Cross Country were a large part of my college experience for four years, so competitive running often enters my mind as an analogous explanation for the world around me. Anyone who has seen a Gold Medal sprint during the Summer Olympics—even those who don’t follow track—can understand the tension that builds up as [...]

so two weeks ago i finally had my first vacation. it started on the 21st with a lovely travel day starting with a bus and ending with a train. The train left around 930 at night and unlike the last overnight train i was on, this one wasnt all that fun. We were in business class which is really just economy class but it has fans and you arent packed in like sardines. i was up for pretty much the entire train ride which lasted about 8 hours.

We finally got off at our stop and started to look around for transportation which didnt really work out because i got the instructions from my friend wrong. We ended up getting off two stops before we were supposed to and had to figure out where to go at like 5 in the morning.. some guys wanted to charge us a ridiculous amount to make the thirty minute ride to the right area. there was also this guy who kept harassing us “do you speak indonesian, do you speak indonesian.. blah blah blah” we first said no but he kept going and so we just started to ignore him. Then when we started to walk away he started following us in his car, not a public transport vehicle but normal car and finally my sister was like we dont need a ride thanks leave us alone.. and while that probably wasnt the best thing to do since he started saying something really fast he did drive away.. finally..

so after two angkot rides we finally made it to our first destination: Banguwangi. There we met my friend Jen who got us a hotel and made some wonderful plans for us for the day. The hotel had a nice view. We could see Bali from our balcony. So after taking a nap (since we made it to our hotel at 6 am) Jen took us to a batik factory. There we got to see then making the patterns, applying the wax and adding color. It was pretty cool. After our mini tour we got to make some of our own mini batiks. it was pretty cool. it was a lot harder than it looks. But it was fun. I am totally not talented in that department. All the ladies in the wax room loved Krystal. Honestly if PC doesnt work out I think she has a new job for the next year and a half.

This is the back view of the hotel. Can see some mountains in the distance.

Bali! SO close yet so far!

the hotel we stayed at..

Bali again..

Batik by print. He covers the previous design with wax and then prints over it.

Using the printing block

Some of the fabrics after they have been dyed.

This is where they are adding the wax on by hand.. Pretty cool how they can do it perfectly

After this adventure we went back to the hotel and another friend arrived. We then rested up a bit and then went out to dinner at Jens house. It was a pretty good dinner. After that trip we headed back to the hotel and Krystal and Hannah went to use the internet and then stuff went crazy. Whitney and I were standing outside getting ready to eat a popsicle when i thought i saw something in the sky. i dismissed it until i saw it again. It looked like it was moving back and forth but it faded in and out. I thought i was seeing things until Whitney started to see it too. It was so weird. We creeped ourselves out and at one point Whitney screamed and we ran back inside and shut the door. When my sister and Krystal came back they thought we were crazy which maybe we were but who knows.

Then the next day we started our adventure in Bali. Around 12 we caught a ride on the ferry across the bay to Bali. We then got on a mini bus that took us to Kuta which is further south. It took us close to 4.5 hours to get to Denpasar which is the capital city of Bali. From there we had to take an angkot into the main area and that was another 20 minutes but FINALLY we got there. I, being the dummy that I am, do not have any pictures of the hotel BUT it was a nice hotel. It had a pool and yeah it was just a nice hotel.

on the ride into Bali

Our driver stopped and got blessed. Pretty neat.

The next day just included shopping and a mini little trip to the beach. We sadly didnt get to the beach until around 4 and the weather started to look bad but at least Hannah got to see the beach. We went back to the pool and fooled around and got some drinks. It was buy one get one so hannah and i got three drinks which was wayyy enough for me.. it was fun for a little while. Before we got stuff to eat Hannah and I had some very funny convos. At one point, and im not even sure how this got in my head, but i started talking about teletubbies. I finally figured out why they are called that- because they have tellys in their tummies or maybe i said tubbies. It was pretty hilarious.

Then it was christmas and i got to see my fam which was nice. Its still weird seeing everyone sitting around the table and not being there.. After the chat we chilled in the pool a little and then Hannah got a massage and the before we knew it, she had to leave. It was pretty hard taking her to the airport. Even though she gets on my nerves it was really nice having her here.. I miss her a lot now.. stupid sister..

We went and attempted snorkeling on Monday.. Which failed.. i was the first one in the water and i totally would gave done it if the water hadnt been really rough.. Im not the most awesome swimmer so when the waves kept forcing me towards the boat i started to freak a little bit. I was afraid that I was going to be swept under the boat and i did not need that.. the trip ended up being really short and only whitney came in after me. i think Krystal saw us struggling and she changed her mind.. darn weather! Next we went a turtle farm. they have some gigantic turtles there. I really hope they let some of them go back into the wild. But it was nice seeing so many sea turtles.

Little babies! They were so small..

Getting biggerrrr...

This turtle was HUGE.. they had people "picking" it up but it was so heavy the only got half of it out of the water.. so cool though..

hand by head shows how large it is..

big storm on the way back in..

The next few days then just went in a blur of shopping and chillin in the pool. It was nice up until i got i got sun burn. Sunburn really makes life a lot harder. Two days later we checked out of our hotel. We left our stuff at the front desk to be picked up later and went out to meet with some other folks who had just come into town for lunch. I was also trying to decide whether or not i wanted to stay extra days. Tough decision haha. So we ended going out to eat and then chilling at a hotel with some of our friends for a little bit and then Mary Ellen and Nicole and I went out to find something to wear. I got a cute dress and a shirt but afterwards I decided I didnt really want to go out clubbing.. which, for those who know me well, isn’t really my cup of tea. So I just sat outside and read a little bit once everyone left and then eventually took a walk with one of my PC friends Cody. We went and got some water and he got some ice cream - side note he is allergic milk so this wasnt really the best thing for him. We had a really good chat.. Im not sure exactly how long we sat talking but it was a really good chat. He tried to get me to finish his ice cream, which looking back i shoulda helped him out but i didnt.. Later he went in his room to sleep and i tried reading again but i got tired since it was like 1 so i tried to sleep on the floor outside the room.. which wasnt smart but i was tired.. of course the sunburn made me really uncomfortable. Cody ended up walking out and told me to get in his room and sleep on the bed. Finally around 3 MaryEllen came back and we left to go to her hotel which was farrrrr away. by the time we got to her hotel it was four in the morning. Before I went to bed i noticed that my legs had some sun blisters on them.. oh joy..

so the next morning we all got ready for a day of traveling. Erin and her brother came down and we all got in a car to go to Ubud. We had a full day planned to visit a lot of cultural places and while my legs and other sunburn were bothering me, I was glad i had come out. I hadnt really gotten a chance to see much stuff.

First we went and saw some traditional dancing which was pretty neat. It made no sense but luckily they gave us a paper that kind of explained what was happening.

The first dance.. Pretty close to Javanese dancing.

start of the story.. some officials or something..

one of the bad guys..

this guys were funny.. they spoke english sometimes and did some crazy stuff.. made the story more interesting..

this thing ended up eating people at the end.. not sure how it fit in the story though..

at the end noticed that my leg was getting bigger.. lovely right?

Afterwards we decided to go the monkey forest to meet up with some friends. On the way to the monkey forest I noticed that my blisters were getting bigger which kinda sucked. Before we walked in the monkey forest, Oma Colleen (she is the oldest volunteer in the first group but she has a real young heart) she kept talking about the last time she came and how some of the monkeys were aggressive and a tourist actually got bit.. I was a little nervous but i still thought it would be pretty neat. i mentioned to Mary Ellen before we walked in “Man I hope they dont think that my blisters are food.. That would suck.” I should have kept my mouth shut. After walking around for about 30 minutes I notice this monkey that is kind of interested in me.. It starts to come towards me so i start walking around my friends brother. Then it stops so i stop. I started talking to someone and all of a sudden the monkey lunges. We are all a little shocked. I looked down and one of my blisters is gone. I kinda just stare at the monkey for a little bit and he is licking his fingers, which is kinda gross. Then he starts coming towards me.. again. Oma Colleen tells me to start walking away and then she starts to push the monkey away but hes not really having any of it. Finally she shoves her purse in its face thats the point where i pretty much turned and ran.

Once i was a bit away and “safe” we looked at my leg and it didnt hurt at all but the blister was gone so i now had an open wound. We called the doctor and he told me to wash it out with soap and i was thinking to myself “where am i gunna get soap in the middle of this park?” but luckily we had some drinking water and some antibacterial gel so at least i got something on it.. I called him back and he told me he wanted me to come to Surabaya to get a rabies shot.. I was so bummed. I almost started crying, which is dumb but I had made the decision to stay and I was having a good time and then a monkey had to go and ruin it. Mary Ellen felt bad for me so she went and got me some ice cream which was really nice and it ended up making me feel a whole lot better. So remember that when someone is down: ice cream is an awesome fixer-upper.

statue outside of the park..

aw.. isnt he cute.......

a momma and a baby..

chilling in the trees.. at a much safer distance..

view of the jungle.. it really was a pretty place..

at the end of the staircase.. thats erin on the side by the way..

cool jungle area..

pretty sure this is the monkey that made me leave bali..

the river was pretty cool..

the Komodo dragon statues were also pretty neat.. a little bit bigger than a real one though..

So we continue on our day and we went and saw a temple area called the Elephant Cave and got some lunch and then finally a waterfall. During this whole time the other blister on my left leg kept growing. It was starting to hurt every time i put my foot down. I wanted to pop it but everyone kept telling me to wait. Its kinda like when you are little and you want to pull out a loose tooth but your mom is telling you no.. i was very determined to have the thing gone as soon as possible. So finally once we ended out trip Erin and I walked to the pharmacy or the apotek to get some equipment to pop the sucker.

the sign at the start of the elephant caves.. interesting eh?

fountains with holy water. People were washing their arms and faces with it..

Wah its watching me!

Pretty cool jungle area..

neat tree..

the big waterfall!

After buying a needle, lighter, some non-stick gauze and some soap we went on our way to find an area that we could do some surgery ha. We ended up stopping at a puskesmas (i think thats how its spelled) which is kinda like a free clinic, and we used their bathroom. Thank god I had Erin because im not entirely sure i could have popped the thing by myself. I started to get really nauseous at the idea of stabbing myself with a needle. (This is gross.. fyi..) I still had to push all the liquid out though so i had my fair share disgusting. So finally it was mostly empty and clean and we went on our way. That night was nice once I could finally walk without wanting to cut off my leg. We ended up having dinner at a vegetarian restaurant which was reallly good.

my leg all bandaged up after the "surgery"

the "monkey" leg.. looks clean here but it isnt now.. :(

thats Erin and Oma Colleen (the woman who saved me haha) chilling on the beach after a long day.

The next day I ended up leaving around 10 in the morning to go to the terminal to catch a bus back to Java. I sat at the station for about an hour before they finally started boarding and then another hour on the bus before we finally left the terminal. Once leaving we didnt get very far before we stopped again. I think it took close to 5 hours to get to the ferry, which SUCKED. The air conditioning didnt work really well when we were stopping constantly so the first half of the trip was hot. Finally around 6 we got on the ferry. The rest of the trip was pretty uneventful. Once i got to the terminal in Surabaya i got accosted by taxi drivers which was annoying. Sadly it was past 12 so none of them were running meters (which is dumb) and they wanted to charge me 100 to 75 to get to my hotel (normally the fare is about 35..) I was so annoyed. I kept telling them that I had been there before and I knew how much it cost and I wasnt paying above 50. They all started to ignore me. Finally a taxi driver told me he would take me.

I do have to ask why, whenever i go to Surabaya at night, do I always get the taxi driver who has no IDEA where he is going. He had to stop 3 times to find out where we were going and near the end I had to tell him where to go. A person who doesnt live in Indonesia has to tell the Indonesian cab driver where to go..

The hotel room wasnt that nice but at that point I didnt really care I just wanted to go to bed.. The next day I went and chilled out at the PC lounge for a few hours before seeing the doctor. Got to check my email, read a book, take a shower..

The doctors visit wasnt too eventful. I got one shot and then he had to scrub my wounds which wasnt too bad. HA Ill spare you guys the details.. but finally they were clean. I asked the doctor how many shots i would have had to get if we didnt get the three shots before during PST: A whopping 32 shots.. and I would have had to be evacuated back home.. Which woulda sucked.. But im still here.. So pretty much I had my wounds cleaned and I had to spend my new years by myself because i was the only one in Surabaya.

these are current pictures of my leg.. this is the monkey leg.. which isnt doing too well..

the normal leg.. healing much better and much faster..

So thats my story.. I had an interesting past few weeks and hopefully the next year is just as interesting.. just not with bodily injuries.

LOVE YOU ALL :)