garbage

There is shit everywhere here. Not literally of course (although about some dark corners and abandoned patches of land behind buildings I would rather not know.) One thing I have learned after living in this country for 3 months is that sometimes it’s best not to dig too deeply into unused rooms, or when looking out windows, to keep my focus on the trees rather than the informal trash dump scattered underneath them. Garbage of a different variety can be found in and around most buildings, and my office at the University where I work is no exception. As I sit here typing, my desk is facing a wall of shelves…shelves which are, shall we say, organizationally challenged. Crammed onto said shelves are stacks of old papers covered in dust, yellowed by water-stains; 3-ring binders (not one of the 26 remains with the full functionality of it’s spine or ability to remain closed); stacks and stacks of outdated practice tests (circa 1975); used test answer sheets from students long graduated; sloppy piles of manila envelopes…all of this topped off, like the cherry on the proverbial sundae, by a clock in the shape of a rafflesia flower whose hands haven’t moved past 9:45 since the earthquake 2 and a half months ago.

One of my main goals during my fellowship is to give the English Library here at the language center an extreme make-over. As you might well imagine, the library, normally referred to as the Self-Access Center (SAC), is not exempt from the traditional Indonesian-style organization (the aforementioned method of piling shit everywhere but never, EVER, throw anything away lest it might come in handy some day.) Upon my first introduction to the SAC, after having my mission explained to me, it took every ounce of will-power I possessed not to attack the place with a giant plastic garbage bag (props to the McClintic Gulag of my childhood and its Saturday morning enforced cleaning sessions, which, in retrospect, probably instilled more long-term values than that re-run of Saved by the Bell) Anyway, in an effort to be more culturally conscious, I resisted my impulses to immediately begin re-organizing, deciding to first observe the situation then choose the best course of action.

So after 3 months of observing the routine and browsing through the materials, I deduced that the SAC was used mainly as a lunch room for teachers and a place for the librarian to watch soap operas. Various attempts at sorting the materials had taught me that most of the listening materials hadn’t been touched in years, and the majority of the video tapes couldn’t be played and were, in fact, stuck together and slightly moldy. An obvious and easy place to start weeding out unnecessary items…or so I thought. As with most things here, nothing gets accomplished without the advice and opinion of anyone who happens to be in the building at the time. Which is fine, and I understand it is the culturally acceptable way of doing things here (as with most Asian countries, which all lean more towards the collectivist end of the spectrum) However the problem with my desire to throw out the unused materials came not from the group consultation, but rather from the thought that I would throw anything away at all.

Now, it was clearly logical and made perfect sense to me that, if the video and audio tapes don’t work, and we don’t have a machine to play some of the outdated tapes (some strange mini-videos that I’d never previously seen before digging into the nether regions of our SAC shelves) then what is the purpose of keeping the stuff around? Why not weed out the old stuff and in the process make the stuff we do use easier to see and more accessible? But, if I have learned anything after living in 3 different countries and traveling in many more, it’s that sometimes, culturally speaking, what I consider to be “logical” and what others consider to be “logical” often do not coincide.

With the aid of another English teacher serving as my interpreter I tried to get the librarian to understand my logic. Tensions we certainly running high, and the more I tried to reason with her, the more tightly she clung to the idea that the old tapes might be needed by someone. After an hour of consultation, explanation, and towards the end some pleading, we finally reached a breakthrough in our stalemate. The epiphany came when I told her that I had special funds from the State Department specifically set aside to be used for the purchase of new materials and books…funds that I could use at my discretion, which didn’t have to be approved by the director of our language center. As Oprah would say, it was an “Ah, ha!” moment…and then, for the librarian, it was a whole new world. The tapes…gone….garbage…sent to the dumping ground (i.e. the pile of trash behind the building) She now directed all her attention to making a long and detailed list of all the new stuff she wanted for the SAC.

Since that afternoon, I have been thinking about all the shit piled everywhere in this country. It didn’t really register with me, why everyone, it seemed, was so hesitant to send things to the garbage and accept the fact that sometimes, you have to just let things go. But then it started to make more sense…why, for example, my cleaning lady was saving all the old peanut butter jars I threw in the trash, or why she (even though she can’t speak English) wanted to save the old Newsweek magazine I tried to discard. Even today, she politely asked me if she could keep a worn out pair of flip-flops I had thrown in the trash. Of course, I told her, please take them…and then I felt terrible, that something I had deemed disgusting and unfit for use, was, to her, something to be saved and taken home to her family.

I am starting to understand why people hold on so tightly to things. When there isn’t a seemingly endless supply of money to replace something, the line between what is garbage and what isn’t becomes blurred. Since coming here I have slowly started to re-define what the term “necessity” means to not only me, but the majority of the world’s population. It’s an easy lesson to learn when true necessity confronts me every time I open my front door (and sometimes it even comes inside and cleans my bathrooms for me) I just hope that I can remember it when I get back home…

Audio tape collection at the SAC

Books-on-Tape collection

Photocopied Children's Books

Garbage dump below my office window

Around town...

A few weekends ago I was invited to some weddings here in Bengkulu. From what I am told, most weddings last around 3 days and involve several costume changes. The first wedding of the day was one of the teachers that I work with at the University. During the reception portion of the wedding (day 2) the bride, groom, and their parents dress in the traditional wedding clothes according to where each family is from (this is West Sumatera dress)

These girls performed a traditional dance at the reception.


From what I understand, the wedding party sits on an elaborately decorated stage throughout the entire reception (about 5 hours) while guests greet them and have their picture taken with them. There is no exact starting time for the reception and guests come and go throughout the day. For most formal events such as this, guests show up, say hello to the hosts, eat, then leave. No mingling, no forced, uncomfortable chit-chat with the 3rd cousins or various other crazy relatives...personally, I am a huge fan of this Indonesian style etiquette....


This is wedding #2 of the day. The bride and groom are wearing traditional Java dress (both bride and groom's family originally from there) This reception was held at the house of our librarian...I cannot express how hot this reception was. It was outside under a tent set up in the librarian's front yard and there were about a million people all crammed together. This combined with the inhumanely loud karaoke that served as the reception's entertainment resulted in almost unbearable conditions. A situation such as this is a perfect example of how Indonesian party etiquette proves to be quite useful. Guests get in, get out, and nobody passes out from heat exhaustion....

This was taken at the birthday party of my friend's son.

There's no birthday cake, but there is a certain kind of rice made on special occasions. It is custom for the honoree to cut the top of the rice and serve it to the most honored and respected guest at the occasion.

This is at an old British military fort in Bengkulu. Most weekends find it full of kids running around and students hanging out with their significant others.

On this particular day, I had a whole gang of "tour guides" who were more than happy to pose for photos every chance they got (they also got an enormous amount of joy out of teaching me dirty words in Indonesian...kids these days...they grow up so fast...)

Cows grazing on the University campus:

Neighbors:

Gecko trying to hide between the wall and ceiling of my house:

Bali in a Nutshell...

I just got back from a little vacation in Bali. It is really an incredibly beautiful place and unique in Indonesia because it's the only island in the archipelago where the majority of the population is Hindu (95% of Balinese) It was such a different world from where I am...it was interesting to see how stongly the majority religion influences the culture and lifestyle. I only spent 10 days there, but I could have easily spent a month traveling around...lots of places to see and things to do.

We got to see some of the countryside on a mountain biking tour. This is a terraced rice field we passed on our way...

Women taking offerings to the temple:

We also stopped at an organic farm in the mountains. Friendly gentleman roasting coffee:

Cocoa, light of my life, fire of my loins! Our guide lets us try some raw beans picked fresh from the tree:

Sunrise on top of a live volcano (Mt.Batur). We were cursing ourselves during the 4 a.m. hike to the top, but it was definitely worth it in the end......check out that sunrise!

Steam leaking up from the ground on the way back down the volcano:

Mother and child at a monkey sanctuary:

Monkey rules:

I ran into some friends who I worked with in Japan...here Blair shows the inspiration for his hairstyle:

Heather and Blair get serenaded by a drag queen in Seminyak (Blair obviously still in high spirits from his own private lap dance moments before...)

Engaging in less ambitious pursuits in Ubud:

Blessings from Tanah Lot, a Hindu temple:

Sunset at Tanah Lot

Open Letter to the Middle-Aged Woman at the Supermarket

Dear Madam,

I respectfully ask that you please stop following me around the supermarket. I fully understand that the opportunity to observe an actual white person in the wild is rare indeed, and I do admire your tenacity given the various tacitcal manoeuvers I have made in an attempt to disengage you over the course of the last 10 minutes. However you might be able to extrapolate, from the scowl on my face and my resistance to making eye contact with you, that today I am in no mood to facilitate cross-cultural understanding here in the instant noodle aisle. Any other day would find me more than willing to enter into thoughtful discourse regarding my striking similarity to Barbie, but this morning I have already: thwarted an attempted kidnapping via public transportation by jumping out of a moving vehicle, almost been hit by a large, swerving construction vehicle whose driver wanted to convey his enlightening message at close range ("Hey mister! Where you going?"), gotten a razor sharp piece of coconut shell lodged in the bottom of my flip-flop, and harassed by a moto driver who felt compelled to ride next to me for half a kilometer "practicing English."

I wholeheartedly hope that you are not left with a negative impression of my people. We are generally a happy-go-lucky, friendly sort who delight in and encourage foreigners to repeatedly ask questions such as "Why aren't you married yet?" and "Don't you ever want to get married?" And I will make this solemn promise to you, dear Middle-Aged Woman at the Supermarket, that I will be open for any and all questioning during my next visit. As you can see, since we are now at the check-out counter and you are standing close enough behind me that I can feel your breath on the back of my neck, I am indeed buying bread. May you take solace in this small token of stereotype confirmation, and may you take your newfound knowledge back to family and friends (along with the secret picture you took of me on your cell phone), and may you always look back in fond remembrance of today, the day you saw the white girl in the supermarket.

Sincerely,
MKM

simple pleasures

I came home from work yesterday and what did I find? My wonderful cleaning lady, Andra, had picked a fresh papaya from a tree in my backyard, cut it up, and artfully arranged it on plate for me (yes, I have a cleaning lady. It's very normal to have house help lest you think I've gone all bourgeois since coming here. Fear not, I shall stay unchanged and remain true to my bohemian ways!) Seismic upheaval be damned! The cornucopia of tropical fruit that surrounds me is worth the risk...

Welcome to the Jungle

Well, it’s the end of my 4th week in Indonesia, and one thing is for sure, my time here so far is definitely not lacking in excitement! It seems that there is so much to tell already, I’m not even sure where to begin. I guess I’ll start with the latest earthquake drama…

After living in Japan for 2 years, I had a false sense of confidence in my earthquake preparedness skills. But what I experienced last Wednesday was nothing like the little window rattlers I had felt before in Japan. I guess to preface this I should explain some of the fundamental differences in architecture between Japan and Indonesia. In Japan, nothing is accomplished without weeks and months of meetings, committee deliberation, and the accompanying mounds of useless paperwork. Everything is precisely planned and all possible variables are anticipated and contingencies based on these variables are also planned down to the last, minute detail. This includes planning for earthquakes, so most modern buildings and roads are constructed to withstand all sorts of seismic activity. My apartment seemed to be made of rubber, so that when earthquakes happened, the entire building would sway back and forth as if suspended in a safety bubble of Japanese ingenuity.

But that was Japan…a wealthy and highly developed country…and this is Indonesia, where the majority of the houses and buildings (especially in my part of the city) seem to be comprised of any and all materials that happened to be available at the time of construction. Shacks made with equal parts brick, wood scraps, and corrugated metal sheets line the roads. They house everything from restaurants to roadside equivalents of convenience stores to people to mechanic shops to mosques. The more “sturdy” buildings are usually made of brick and crumbling chunks of plaster, covered by ancient layers of flaking paint…all of which, by the way, is surrounded by the most stunning natural environment imaginable.

Anyway, now that you have a mental picture…so last Wednesday evening I was at home when the earthquake happened. Like I said, I am used to the earthquakes in Japan, which in my experience have seemed more of a shallow and quick, intense shaking. However here it was different…it seemed deeper, like a slow waving intense motion and I could hear the earth and rock grinding under my feet. While it was happening, there was silence except for the sound of the earth shaking and walls cracking. It lasted about 2 minutes, and then it was total chaos and human noise for about the next 2 days.

At the time, none of my neighbors were home, so I wasn’t quite sure what I should do. Two security guards from my housing complex ran up to my house and started excitedly yelling things at me in Indonesian…unfortunately, that being only my 3rd week in the country, my vocabulary was limited to things like “delicious” and “my name is…” and “that’s spicy!” (phrases such as “run for your life, a tsunami is coming” apparently aren’t covered until chapter 5 of my Teach Yourself Indonesian book) Anyway, through hand gestures and a few key words, I figured out that I was supposed to get out of my house immediately and go across the road to my University, which is situated on higher ground than my house. I grabbed my laptop and ran up to the main road where it was complete and total insanity. Screaming people had run out of their houses and lined the roads, while cars and motorcycles flew past honking their horns. Hysterical mothers were desperately trying to shove 5, 6, sometimes even 7 crying children onto motorcycles to get them to safety.

I got to the University and joined a growing crowd of other evacuees where we stood at the top of the hill looking out towards the beach, all of us keeping watch for giant waves coming in across the water. Cell phone service was out as well as the electricity, which was OK until the sun went down. In the dark people seemed more desperate and scared, and any little sudden movement by one group of people set off a wave of panic. Hundreds of us had been standing around for about an hour, maybe two, with no communication from city officials as to what was happening. At one point, the entire crowd started to freak out and everyone started yelling and running uphill into the trees…until this point I wasn’t too scared, but in the dark with a surging crowd of people screaming and running and me not being able to ask what was happening, I started to freak a little bit. Luckily, three law students took pity on me and used what little English they could remember from their required 2 semesters to explain what was happening. We walked up to a safer area on campus and I was finally able to get in touch with my friend to come pick me up.

I ended up staying at my friend’s uncle’s house, which was located in a safer part of the city with higher elevation. Because of the aftershocks and tsunami warnings, I ended up staying there for 2 days just to be safe. My friend’s cousins were so excited to have a real, live foreigner at their house (never mind the huge earthquake that had just destroyed half the province!) The entire next afternoon I was on display for neighbors and various other relatives. They all clamored around taking pictures with me, and groups of children from the neighborhood would come by at various times during the day to talk with me and take more pictures (apparently there was a rumor going around that “Miss Universe” was staying at the house down the street, so they all had to come out and take a look). Nobody really spoke English, and as I mentioned before, my Indonesian is pretty limited, but I had my two-way dictionary and my text book, so we all took turns looking up words and random phrases in order to communicate…it actually turned out to be quite effective, and their English and my Indonesian were much improved by the end of the day.

The beginning of Ramadan (a Muslim holiday when people fast from sunrise to sunset for 30 days) also coincided with the earthquake, so I was able to take part in the first night of “breaking the fast” (called “babuka puasa” in Indonesian). Since Muslims can’t eat or drink during the day, at night there are celebrations of big meals shared with family and neighbors, and everyone goes out into the streets to shoot fireworks.

I have been able to move back into my house, even though there are still aftershocks (I’ve felt kind of dizzy for the last week or so…I’m not ever sure if the ground is moving or it’s all in my head). Overall I am so amazed by the concern for my safety and the hospitality everyone has shown me during all this excitement. I can't say enough how awsome the people are here...more to come on that later...

Here's a shot of some earthquake damage at my university. This building got the worst of the damage...luckily the damage to my office isn't as bad.

My neighborhood fan club...

Sunset at one of Bengkulu's beaches (and yes, the sunsets are always this incredible)

Parting Shots

In a few days I'll be leaving for my next adventure in Asia, but before I go I thought I should give one last parting look back at my time in Japan. I actually sat down and wrote a long blog entry about all the things I would miss and all the things I learned...but after re-reading it, I just decided to delete it all. So instead of trying to write a bunch of sentimental, introspective (and most likely confusing) garbage, I'm posting some pictures...less is more, desu ne?

This is Kenrokuen in Kanazawa (supposedly one of the 3 most beautiful gardens in all of Japan). During the winter, the trees are tied to prevent the branches from breaking under the weight of the snow.

Young protesters at a Peace march in our city.

Fire and Violence festival in Ishikawa...super intoxicated men bashing a portable shrine, lighting it on fire, and throwing it in the river? Best damn festival in all of Japan if you ask me...


Nagashi soumen at a restaurant in Kanazawa - water runs through the bamboo while you try to catch and eat noodles that rush down the slide...of the plethora of "Japanese interactive eating" events, this one ranks in my top 3

Dinner with friends...all-you-can-eat (tabehodai), all-you-can-drink (nomihodai)

Crazy boys from Nonoichi Jr. High

Crazy girls from Nonoichi Jr. High

At my final going away party thrown by my teachers...they we so excited to show off the big banner they made me...then of course, after drinking for 2 hours at dinner, they insisted on bringing the banner out in the middle of the street yelling "bonzai!" over and over

The walk home today...

Today I walked home from school. A little girl went past me on a scooter. The sight of me startled her so much she fell off her scooter in the middle of the road.

Also during the walk home, a gang of elementary school students ran for a 1/2 mile to catch up with me. No wonder they ran...they had a very important message for me: "Hello. How are you? I'm fine, thanks. Do you like sports?"


Here are some shots of Japanese elementary school students, just so you can get a visual...

They all wear the same yellow hats while walking to school:

They all carry the same backpacks (red for girls, black for boys)

Cameron!

I may have mentioned this before, but in Japan the school year ends in March and begins after spring break in April. Since I have two schools that I teach at, alternating between the two every other month, this month was the first time I had taught the new 1st grade (equal to 6th grade back home) students.

I always love teaching the first class with the new students. They are so enthusiatstic and excited about English class that it is difficult at times for them to contain the excitement. Such was the case last week...

Schools in Japan are organized a bit different than they are at home. Students have a homeroom class, and instead of moving from room to room for each subject, they stay in the room and the teachers rotate every period. The grades are also seperated according to grade level, so the entire first grade classrooms are on the 3rd floor, 2nd grade on the second floor, and 3rd grade on the first floor. Anyway, the point is that many of the 1st grade students don't have much opportunity to interact with me outside of class since they are on the top floor.

So...last week, as I said, was the first time teaching this new group of 1st graders. As I also mentioned, the students at this age are usually bursting from the excitement of having class with a foreigner. So excited, in fact, that last week's classes got a little out of control. When I went up to their floor for class, I was immediately mobbed and subsequently surrounded by about 20 students. Some of them wanted to try out any and all previously learned English, others just wanted to get a closer look (maybe some smelling going on, too), and there were a sea of little hands grabbing and clawing their way through the mass just trying to touch me. The excitement of the students was so intense that I was literally backed into a corner and another teacher had to come rescue me and pull me out of the crowd!

Cultural Note: In Japan, there are many big Hollywood celebs that do commercials here. Meg Ryan hawks instant coffee, Tommy Lee Jones sells canned drinks, and Brad Pitt and Cameron Diaz do commercials for cell phones. Anyway, for some reason, people here have decided that I look like Cameron Diaz (??) Either that or Meg Ryan...my guess is that both these women are blonde and blue eyed...but that's pretty much where the similarity ends, in my opinion.

Anyway, the 1st grade students have now all agreed that I look like Cameron Diaz. During the middle of my classes, the students would becomed so moved by this realization that they felt the need to shout "Cameron! Cameron!" to me in the middle of class. And if one student was thusly moved to testify, well...then a chorus of "Cameron!" would erupt and it would take several minutes for the class to get calmed down and quiet again (this happened on multiple occasions in several different classes)

So I'll let you be the judge...

Here's Cameron...

and here's me.

Bittersweet Good-byes

So lately I've been reflecting on my time here in Japan. As my tour-of-English-duty draws to a close, I have started an informal list of things I will miss about Japan. Thus far, the list mainly consists of arbitrary, superficial things. For example, Japanese bento (pre-made lunch boxes), convenience stores/vending machines on every corner, frogs croaking in the rice paddys at night, different Hello Kitty charms for every major city....and the list goes on...

However one thing that I will gladly say goodbye to (and, in fact, will rejoice at never having to lay eyes on again) is the haunting sight of the tanuki lingering in dark doorways of restuarants and bars here in Japan. These tanuki, at once both pervasive and elusive...one never knows when one will be confronted by the rat-like snout, those souless eyes, those giant....testicles....

Anyway, before I continue, here's a bit more explanation about the tanuki:


TANUKI:
Magical Racoon-like Dog with Shape-Shifting Powers; Modern-Day God of Gluttony, Boozing, and Restaurateurs

Tanuki appear often in Japanese folklore as shape-shifters with supernatural powers and mischievous tendencies. Tanuki statues are found everywhere around Japan, especially outside restaurants and bars, where the Tanuki beckons drinkers and diners to enter. The beckoning Tanuki is most often depicted with a big round tummy, gigantic testicles, a flask of sake, a promissory note, and a straw hat.

There are countless tales about the mischievous Tanuki. The Tanuki can transform into any living or inanimate shape, but in legend it often assumes the form of a monk or a tea kettle to play tricks on people. Tanuki is most often shown playing tricks on hunters and woodsmen. They can cast powerful illusions -- they can turn leaves into fake money or horse excrement into a delicious-looking dinner. The Tanuki is said to love Japanese sake (rice wine), and is often depicted with a sake bottle in one hand (usually purchased with fake money made from leaves) and a promissory note in the other (a bill it never pays).

A curious and defining characteristic of Tanuki is its gigantic testes. According to some legends, the testicles / scrotum can be stretched to the size of eight tatami mats. Others point to the word Senjojiki (the space of 1,000 tatami mats) as an indication of the Tanuki's testes size. Called Kin-tama (Golden Balls) in Japanese, the testes are supposedly symbols of good luck rather than overt sexual symbols (the Japanese are more tolerant of low humor than most Western nations). In the movie Heisei Tanuki Gassen Ponpoko, the Tanuki stretches out its scrotum as a parachute in a desperate suicide attack. In other Tanuki folklore, the Tanuki uses the testes as an impromptu drum, beating out the "ponpoko" sound.

The tanuki in all his glory:

A line of tanuki in front of a restaurant

My brother-in-law, Dave, worshipping at the shrine of Tanuki.

It's really quite hideous (however I should apologize to all acutal tanuki out there. Having never seen a real one in nature, my only experience with the tanuki is the statues...in reality they could be quite cute....but I'm guessing probably not...) Another curiosity regarding the tanuki is the amazement and enthusiastic interest in them from most men who visit Japan.

Well...maybe it isn't such a curiosity...a gluttonous, drunken raccoon dog with giant testicles? What's not to love?

St. Patrick's Day in Japan

So how do the Japanese celebrate St. Patrick's Day? Karaoke, of course...and watching all the foreigners get intoxicated. I actually think karaoke should become a part of all holidays, both at home and abroad...mutal understanding through song...I like the sound of that...
Have you ever wondered what Snoop Dog's lyrics look like in Japanese? Well wonder no more...

Birthday dinner...