It's good to be home!

Selamat Siang Keluarga dan Teman!!

It has been a week since I blogged! The nice thing about that is that it has been an eventful week, leaving me with much to catch you up on, so while this post may be long, perhaps you may find it of interest!

Last week was the first week where I had activities going on every single night, and I must say that I was excited for this week, where my schedule was much less busy- I’ve come to really enjoy the down time! On Tuesday night, a bunch of us went to Karen and Major’s house for games. I learned a game that has been my nemesis for nearly two years, and I am downright proud to say that I conquered my bad feelings towards it, and have gone so far as to request that we play it when the opportunity has arisen over the past few days… Yes Grebel folks, it’s Dominion that I speak of! I think that this may just be my biggest accomplishment of this journey thus far.

Mike invited us over on Wednesday night, and four of us went out for dinner before more people joined us to spend the evening together. We went out for dinner to Cosmo Café, a really fun little restaurant near the language school where the food is good, the atmosphere is unique, and the price is right. In order to get to the café, we took an angkota (the Salatiga version of a city bus). By the time we finished dinner, however, the angkotas had stopped running. After 5PM, the transportation options are limited to those that require bartering- namely becaks (rickshaws) and dokars (horse-drawn carts). I told everyone not to worry, that I, with my vast Bahasa Indonesia vocab, and a real knack for bartering, would get us a dokar home. I walked confidently up to a friendly looking dokar driver, and asked him how much it would cost us for a dokar ride home. “Tiga puluh ribu”, he responded with a smile. Tiga puluh ribu! That’s a mere 3,000 rupiah! Less than 50 cents for all four of us! It’s practically free! I eagerly agreed, excited both at the shockingly low price and at the fact that I didn’t need to barter, and turned to the rest of the group with a triumphant smile. I was met with looks of shock and disdain. “You didn’t even try to barter!” they said. Well why would I need to when the price was so good? As it turns out, my Bahasa Indonesia vocabulary is still lacking in the number-comprehension department, and the dokar driver had asked for 30,000 rupiah- about three times more than it would normally cost. Since I had already agreed, we had no choice but to climb into the dokar and suck up the hit to our Personal Drawing Accounts. I apologized profusely, and everyone agreed that it was still worth what we paid since the experience ended up being really fun! I’ve lost my credibility though, and am no longer allowed to barter when other peoples’ money is at stake. No better way to learn than through mistakes, right?

Thursday night was “forced family fun” night (weekly games night), and it was hosted at the house I am staying at. While my “help” in preparing for the evening was limited to cleaning my room and asking Ibu Christine what snacks we would be eating, I felt like I had hosted the event in my own home, and felt a real sense of pride that the event had gone well and people had had fun. I realized that I am really starting to feel at home here in Salatiga, and am so excited to discover that I truly do have a home on the other side of the world.

I woke up early on Friday morning to receive an expected call from home, which started my weekend off on a really high note! We met at the school at 8AM as usual, but we had no class as we were heading to the city of Solo for the weekend. Mas Putut came with us on the way there (Karen and Major went ahead in the car) so that we could learn how to use the inter-city bus system and so that we could explore Solo with someone who knows the city. We went to the bus stop (which is an unmarked spot along the street- I suppose you just have to know it’s there) and waited for one of the non-economy (or air conditioned) coach buses to come along. We were taught beforehand to board the bus with our left foot first because the buses often don’t come to a complete stop, and it’s easier to trip if you board with your right foot first (not the first concern that comes to mind when boarding buses in Canada). We paid the fare (10,000 rupiah- $1.25 for an hour long bus ride to another city), and enjoyed the comfortable bus ride.

Once in Solo, Putut took us to a market and to the Batik district, where I bought some souvenirs and tried a local food (something similar to a crepe stuffed with chocolate and banana). We had also been cautioned about pickpockets before arriving in Solo, and I clutched my purse tight and concentrated very hard on not getting pickpocketed. So concentrated was I that I missed a very unique experience when a man jumped out from around a corner, and began tickling Jason in the stomach while making whatever noise a person makes when they tickle someone else. It was very unexpected for Jason (understandably), and from then on, he employed a “keep with the herd” mentality, never straying off by himself after that. (On the plus side though, I did not lose my money to any pickpockets… only to stores with exciting items that I just had to buy). The excitement tapered off a bit after the market, and we enjoyed a very calm and relaxing afternoon at Sushant and Priti’s, two MCC workers who are based in Solo. Sushant and Priti are from India, and are incredible cooks. We enjoyed a phenomenal, fresh, home cooked Indian dinner on Friday night, and went to bed quite content.

On Saturday, we were taken under the wing of Pak Paulus, a man who works with the GKMI church in Solo (the same synod that I am a part of this year in Semarang) and who is also the founder of several big peace building and relief organizations here in Central Java. We heard about some of their projects, and I was excited to learn that they teach trauma healing, which is something that I am really interested in. Pak Paulus also happens to be friends with the Prince of Solo, so we spent some time at the Prince’s house after our meeting in the morning. The rest of the day was filled with a trip to the palace (the prince doesn’t live at the palace), lunch, a restful afternoon, a trip to the night market, and dinner at a beautiful Italian restaurant called O Solo Mio, that served the most delicious pizza the world has ever tasted. It was amazing!

Sunday began with church at 6:30AM. After that, Karen and Major headed home in the van, leaving us with Sushant and Pak Paulus. Our plan was to spend some time with them, then go out for lunch as a group, maybe stop in at the mall, and head home on a bus. We were taken to a park shortly after church ended, where we were spending the morning just relaxing, listening to some performers in the park, and watching the (very brazen) deer mill about. Around 12:30, Sushant asked us to gather close, and then quietly told us that there had been a bombing in a nearby church, and we needed to leave immediately. We swiftly packed up our mats and everything else we had brought, and within 10 minutes, we found ourselves on a bus back to Salatiga.

While no one else in our group seemed too terribly fazed by the incident (at least they handled it well on the outside), it impacted me quite a bit. It was downright scary for the few minutes when we didn’t fully understand what was going on (and being a “worst case scenario” thinker, I envisioned something quite a bit bigger than reality), and has left me with a lot of unanswered questions. We learned that the attack was a Muslim extremist suicide bomber who went into a local Pentacostal church with a nail bomb strapped to his stomach. The bomb did not go off as planned, and exploded only after the service was over and a few people were still hanging around after church. The blast killed two people (including the bomber) and injured 22 more. We were really lucky to be with Pak Paulus, who is one of the most connected and well-informed men in the city (you have to be to be friends with the Prince, I think); We knew about the bombing before many did, and steps were immediately in place to get us to a safer area. I’ve never been more relieved to return somewhere, and Salatiga just felt so homey and familiar.

Good things have already come of this experience, at least on a personal level. I have thought a lot over the last two days about how, in a weird way, I feel even more blessed to be a part of a Christian community. Complaining about a two hour worship service just sounds ridiculous to me right now; it should be considered a blessing and not a burden to be able to gather and worship together in a church setting. (Ohhh man, do I ever hope these feelings hold out until next Sunday!)

This experience has also piqued my curiosity about the Muslim faith, and has really filled me with a desire to learn more about other religions in general (particularly Islam as it is most relevant to me this year). I was talking to Mike, who mentioned that his brother believes very strongly in the importance of Christians having a deep knowledge about other religions too, and that resonated with me. It is so easy to fuel stereotypes and create wider divisions between God’s creation when I choose to remain ignorant to the beliefs and deeply held values of those who believe differently than I do. I think that it is only through intentional discussions and learning and understanding that we can come to a place of mutual respect and thus begin to build the connections and bridges that are so desperately needed between people of different faith backgrounds. We too often isolate ourselves from others, preferring to remain in our familiar little comfort zones, and such actions do us an enormous disservice; we remain leery and fearful of those who believe differently, and I would venture to say that that is particularly true between Christians and Muslims.

The other thing I am realizing is just how skewed the news is that we receive about things that go on in other parts of the world. The media has the power to include or omit details at their discretion, and to word the news just so, so that what remains is a sizeable discrepancy between what we hear and what is reality. Within hours, the story of the bombing had reached BBC news. There is certainly truth to a lot of it- the bald facts are there. I found it sad that the wording painted the Muslim faith as a whole with one (very negative) brush. While the article did not shy away at discussing the drama of the event, they failed to mention that immediately following the bombing, many Muslims backed up the Christian church, openly expressing their sorrow over the event as well as their desire for peace and understanding between the two faith groups. All we hear is another attack against Christians by Muslims. We do not hear the whole story.

I am becoming more and more thankful that I am in a situation this year that leaves me no choice but to break out of my comfort zone and start those discussions and a search for truth that will lead to understanding. I didn’t anticipate it, but I think that it’s another reason why God has put me in Indonesia, and I think that my perceptions will be radically altered if I allow them to be this year.

In the meantime, I seek your prayers for the people affected by the bombing in Solo- both the Christian and Muslim communities- and for me as well, that I will actively seek opportunities for a deeper understanding and that I will allow God to use me to establish positive connections between two different faiths. It’s both a scary and awesome position I’m in, and I want to feel nothing but gratitude for it.

Before I sign off, I just want to throw out one more prayer request, for three really special people here in Indonesia; Sari, Maria, and Satria. These three planned to spend this year as IVEPers in the USA (Sari and Maria in thrift shops, and Satria on a farm, I believe). For weeks, their visa status was “pending” and last week, they were told that Satria would receive a visa, and Sari and Maria would not. This was difficult for all three of them; Satria has been carrying the guilt of getting a visa while his friends were denied, and Sari and Maria, who had planned on spending this year away, are now trying to discern where they are supposed to be and what they are supposed to be doing this year. Satria flew out this morning (his first time ever in an airplane!) and having talked to him yesterday, I know he’s very nervous. I know all three of them would be really grateful for the extra thoughts and prayers!

Thanks for reading!

Love,

Ellery

It's Tuesday!

Hey Everyone!

Naming my blog posts is not my strong point, so rather than sitting here for ten minutes trying to think of a name like I normally do, I've decided that the first thing that jumps to mind is the title. And what an honest title it is!

Last night was indeed badminton and a birthday party. Our kind new Indonesian friends picked us up and dropped us off again this week, which is SO appreciated as I rely entirely upon other people for transportation once it gets dark out. I've mentioned it before, and I'll mention it again; My biggest frustration here by FAR is the lack of independence. I come from a family that has encouraged independence in me right from when my parents let me bike to my cousins' house at the age of five. I've grown up in the same area from the day I was born, so I've taken for granted how easy life is when your surroundings are familiar (and are also in your native tongue), making it much easier to gain independence. When I turned sixteen, I was lucky enough to have a vehicle to drive, and since then, I have gallivanted off here and there without needing to do anything more than call home if I intend to stay longer than originally planned. Here, not only do I not have a vehicle (which has resulted in my needing to ask for rides everywhere again, something that I cringe at doing every single time), but I cannot even stay out after dark if there is no way home other than the bike. I HAVE found some upsides to this: I get to spend time with my awesome little host brothers, who, surprisingly, get cuter and cuter every day! I also get to bed nice and early and get a full nine- NINE- hours every night, which really does feel good (mom! I'm starting to ENJOY sleep! Would have been nice if that kicked in 21 years ago, eh?). I also fully acknowledge that the lack of independence is the result both of an unfamiliar environment which will become more familiar as I make the effort to explore it, and from MCC's need and desire to keep me safe, which is more important to me than my independence anyways. Anyways, moving forward... I climbed upon Mona's motor bike, being careful to avoid the exhaust pipe this week (my Indonesian tattoo is still a very tender reminder of the pain those things can cause), and off we went to badminton. I discovered that, when compared to Indonesian badminton players, I am actually horrible at the game. Those girls actually make a birdie an object to be feared! It was loads of fun anyways, though, and it ended with a birthday cake and celebration for Via, one of the girls I have met here.

My Indonesian tattoo, pre-blister phase!

A rare glimpse of some badminton action... It was mostly my partner scoring us the points!

Happy Birthday, Via!!

This morning was pancakes and devotions at Major and Karen's house. It requires an early wake-up (we had to be at their house at 6:45 AM), but it's worth it. The whole day just starts out on the right foot when we get to be together as a group, enjoying delicious food and time to be with God as a group. The downside is that our excessively full bellies cause our desire to learn to take a nosedive, and poor Mas Putut has to work extra hard to motivate us. He is up for the challenge though, and today he decided we would learn how to bargain! It's a wee bit difficult to do when our vocabulary doesn't contain numbers in the thousands (a real shame, because pretty much all the money amounts we deal with are in thousands), and when we don't know what a fair price is, but out we went to the fruit stall anyways, and Rikki and I were able to negotiate a deal that got us 1 kilo of mangoes for rp. 6, 500 (about 75 cents). Our adventure did not stop there! We also hit up the market, the "mall", the grocery story, and a "rumah makan" (restaurant) for lunch. Something else that I've mentioned before but feel the need to qualify again, is that it is in fact more economical to eat out (at non-Western restaurants) than it is to cook yourself, which is why we go out for food as often as we do. It also makes more sense considering that houses are not air conditioned, and it gets really hot in a house when you try to cook there. I've discovered that even Indonesian families here tend to pick up food from a warung before or after work, rather than cook it themselves. Something that I've noticed in restaurants here is that the restaurant will have many calendars posted on their walls. I learned that the calendars are from friends or business partners, and are actually a status symbol; the more calendars you have, the more connections you have! What a unique way to show the world how popular you are!

So many calendars! These people must be VERY popular!

This week is jam-packed with adventure, culminating with a weekend trip to Solo, a city an hour away from here. We're going there to visit more MCC workers and see another part of Java, which will be really fun! Tonight is optional games night at Karen and Major's, and I'm excited for an evening at their place! It's always a good time with the Treadways.

Thanks for reading! Have a really awesome day, everyone!

Love,
Ellery

The Weekend!

Selamat Siang!

This was my third weekend back in Salatiga, and my second weekend with my host family here. I cannot say that anything tooo terribly exciting happened by Western standards, but if Pizza Hut is involved, it's always an exciting weekend here on Java!

On Friday night, Laura came over for what turned out to be the whole weekend! We biked home together, and ate dinner (ayam keremas was included in this meal, which is the eptiome of Indonesian food- fried crumbs!), and spent the evening on the balcony of the house, which overlooks much of Salatiga, just chatting. Before I went to bed, I took a long mandi (I broke down and asked for hot water) and attempted to combat the horrible skin outbreaks that are occurring as a result of the oily food. (So disappointing.)

On Saturday, Pak Lilik and Ibu Christine took us to Semarang, which is about an hour from Salatiga. It was raining the whole way, and I've a feeling we've now entered the beginning of the rainy season as it has rained or threatened to rain almost every day for the past week. (Still hot as ever though- the humidity has been working its magic on my hair). In Semarang, we stopped at a grocery store, and I got to try Lumpia- a specialty of Semarang that tastes much like a pad thai stuffed spring roll. After groceries, we visited Ibu Christine's father's house, where we tried yellow watermelon for the first time. Tastes about the same as the red stuff! The real treat came after that, when we went for... pizza! Pizza Hut is really special when your opportunities for pizza are limited! (It's not even like I've been all that deprived, but knowing I can't have it makes me want it all the more!) We skipped the tuna corn pizza in favour of meat lovers, which we learned includes hot dogs. Laura asked if next time we might be able to substitute the hot dogs for pepperoni, and I laughed at the thought of that question ever arising in Canada.

On Sunday morning, we went to a different church than the one that my family usually attends here. This one was a small catholic chapel at a convent up in the mountains, just outside of Salatiga. The priest was not Indonesian-born, and his Bahasa Indonesia was thus much easier to understand! I still didn't understand the point of the message, but I could pick up many more words than I could a few weeks ago! The location was stunning, and everything was so fresh and clean. It was a really beautiful experience. We went out for mie ayam after church, one of my favourite meals in Indonesia!

At the chapel!

Mie Ayam and Jus Jeruk! Yum yum yum!

In the evening, all of us YALTers got in a van and headed off to Ungarang, Nicole's host town, to attend church at the church she will be attending this year. We had been told that it was much more Pentecostal than the churches we had attended thus far, and it was definitely true! I realized what an impact the one hour church services I'm used to have had on me... by 1 hour and 15 minutes, I was glancing at the clock. At 1 hour and 30 minutes, I was tapping my watch. By 1 hour and 45 minutes, I felt surges of rage coursing through my body, at the length, but more so at myself for my inability to just sit and enjoy the service. I reached the peak of frustration at 2 hours, before succumbing to the fact that this wasn't going to end any time soon, and sat there with a sense of defeat. It ended seven minutes later. The negative reaction on my part has led me to think a lot in the last 24 hours about church and about worship. I am constantly realizing here just how narrow my views and beliefs are, and how necessary this year is for expanding them, even in ways I didn't expect. Why should I be angry at a long church service? Is that not simply a longer opportunity to spend time in the presence of other believers, worshiping together and hearing God's word? (I'm not suggesting this, Pastor Rudy! Your sermons are perfect at the length they are!) At the very least, should I not be encouraged by the commitment to and passion for Christ and to the church that the broader Christian community demonstrated last night? I believe that all of these experiences that have been a test on my patience are definitely God trying to teach me to be content in just being still. It's going to be a long year of learning!

My first full fish!

Today we were back at the language lesson grind. During our break, Laura and I went out for food and drinks, and discovered a very unique method that an Indonesian used to observe us "bules" (foreigners). We were sitting on the curb (having moved from our original spot in the food court to remove ourselves from the gazes of the juice vendor gentlemen), and discovered a woman shining a mirror at us. When we looked her way, she just gave us a thumbs up and continued to move the mirror in various positions as though trying to get a perfect angle. We watched her do this for a little while before getting up to leave, at which time, she got up, waved good-bye to us, and went on her way. I am still perplexed as to what happened, but I admire the alternative method to the usual staring and pointing!

The mirror-shining lady! So inconspicuous... (I admire the attempt).

Tonight is badminton again, and a birthday celebration for a new Indonesian friend! Nothing like a birthday party to make you feel welcomed!

Looking forward to another week of new and exciting experiences, and wishing the same for you, wherever you are!

Have a great day!
Love,
Ellery

A Lot of Learning!

Salamat Siang keluarga dan teman saya! 

That essentially means “Safe early afternoon, my family and friends!” My Bahasa Indonesia is improving at a pathetically slow and only semi-steady pace, but I've learned that it sounds pretty impressive to those who know none!

The last few days have been chalk-full of new experiences, some great, some not-so-great, but all essential to the learning experience that is this year.

In a previous post, I talked about playing badminton on Monday night (a special treat for those watching me heave my sweaty self all over the court while our competitors nimbly hopped about, batting birdies like they did it in their sleep). What I failed to mention was that I got my first- and hopefully last- Indonesian tattoo that night! An Indonesian tattoo is what we apparently call the burn that a person gets if their leg touches the extraordinarily hot exhaust pipe on the side of a motor bike, which is precisely what happened to me (funny how no one mentioned said tattoos until after I showed them the inflamed red patch on my leg). It hurt like crazy, and is definitely permanent, but at least it was free (the Mennonite in me appreciates this), and will be a constant reminder of my time in Indonesia for years to come!

Something else I forgot to say is that at church on Sunday, I found myself sitting beside the former president of Mennonite World Conference (a pretty big deal in my Mennonite mind!) and he told me that he has been to St. Jacob’s four times! St. Jacob’s! The tiny little town near Waterloo! I’m reminded over and over again just how small and interconnected this little world is, and how despite our many differences, we can find so many commonalities.

On Tuesday we had class and then went to MCC for lunch, where we met people from the different Mennonite synods in Indonesia. It was nice to connect the church communities that us YALTers will be a part of this year. I discovered that The Mennonite Game knows no geographical bounds, and have heard connection after connection being made between MCC staff here in Salatiga, and people at the Sola Gratia church, as well as connections between mine and Jason’s churches, which are both a part of the same synod (GKMI).

On Wednesday, Pak Putut allowed us to make a Western lunch, using the kitchen at the school/house where we spend our mornings. On Tuesday, we went shopping for the ingredients at the international food store. Our plan was to make grilled cheese, tomato soup, and nachos (though we scrapped the tomato soup, thinking it would be hard to find the ingredients). Turns out it was hard to find ingredients for anything, as the international food store incidentally only carried about four international food items. These included one kind of shred-able cheese (maybe mozzarella? It was hard to say), which was purchased for the nachos; “smoked cheddar” processed cheese slices; and flavoured nacho chips (plain were nowhere to be found). We also couldn’t track down sour cream or salsa, so we resorted to plan C, guacamole. We came to terms with the fact that the margarine needed for the grilled cheese came from a squeezable packet. We grilled the sandwiches in a wok as there was no frying pan (which actually worked just as well!), and rounded out the starch-laden meal with a multitude of fresh fruit. I have a feeling that one of the reverse culture shocks I’ll experience when I return next year is the plethora of options for each item of food I like. Where salsa isn’t even an option here, I could find at least ten different varieties on the shelves at Zhers. Regardless of the compromises we made, the meal was more delicious than it could have ever tasted at home, and the satisfaction of successfully pulling off a North American meal in an Asian country made up for the frustration that came with trying to find the ingredients. Along that same vein, I have learned that it is very wise to not set your heart on something here. It is almost a guarantee that you won’t be able to have your first choice of something, particularly pertaining to food. Restaurants and warungs are frequently out of dishes and drinks; today it was fried bananas with honey; yesterday, it was Jus Millenium. In Canada, I’ve experienced the rage that comes with the waitress’ announcement that the restaurant is out of a particular food. Out? What do you mean you’re out!? You’re a restaurant! It’s on your menu! I came here specifically for this! This is ridiculous! An outrage! I want to speak to a manager. And then come the profuse apologies and the compensations and discounts for the inconvenience. In Indonesia? Choose something else. And you’re likely already speaking to the manager/owner. Never once have I seen an Indonesian complain in these situations. It’s a small thing, but it’s something that speaks strongly to me about the society I’ve been raised in. Have I really nothing more important to worry about than the honey that I wanted with my fried bananas? 

Squeezable margarine! How handy!

The result of intense shopping and alternative cooking methods.

After class on Wednesday, I returned home to discover the house empty and locked, and got a text from Pak Lilik that he was at Laura’s house, so I headed over there. I brought with me my package of Oreos to share, which I had opened the night before. In the morning I had thought to myself, “hmm, I should close this package up so that ants don’t get in” and carefully folded the top over, thinking that such an action would be enough to keep the ants out. I discovered that I was very wrong in this assumption; when I offered an Oreo to Laura, ants poured from the package. I explained to Laura that I had sealed the package! “how?” she asked. “I folded the top over!” I replied. Her response was a very sarcastic, “and the ants penetrated that!?” The two of us spent a solid half an hour picking the ants out of her bed (and yes, eating the Oreos- desperate times call for desperate measures!).

Yesterday, Pak Putut took us on a class trip in place of in-class learning. We rented a car, squeezed nine of us in the Indonesian-sized 7-seater van, and embarked on our adventure. Our first stop (after the snack run, of course) was to a Batik material factory and store. The Batik is the traditional clothing worn by Indonesians, and the look- particularly the colour- varies by region. Salatiga is known for brightly coloured batiks. Batiks vary in price from pretty cheap to really expensive, and I now understand why. The process of making the fabric is incredibly laborious and time-consuming. I’ll explain it as well as I understand it for those interested: The fabric- white at the beginning- is stamped in wax with the desired pattern before being dyed. The waxed parts of the fabric are protected from the dye. Once the fabric is dyed, it is hung to dry, which can take days during the rainy season. After the material dries, the wax is removed, and possibly more wax patterns applied to the previously dyed areas, depending upon how many colours and patterns are desired. The process of waxing, dyeing, and drying repeats itself as many times as necessary for the desired look to be achieved, and thus varies in required time and labour. One man working there wore a multicoloured batik that took two weeks to make. With a newfound appreciation for the material, we looked around the store, and marveled at how reasonable the Batiks were, considering the work that went into making them. 

Batik fabric hanging to dry. The yellow pattern is covered in wax that still has to be removed before the fabric is dyed again.

This batik took two weeks to make!

The rest of our day included a stop at a boat factory (where, forgetting this is Indonesia, I envisioned assembly lines, machinery, and lots of metal. Instead I found wood, dirt floors, and men with carving tools), the river (where we learned that the boats are used to hold mud that really strong men collect in buckets from the bottom of the river, and use as soil for growing mushrooms), and a restaurant/adventure park, where we stopped for lunch. A funny moment of the day was when a man approached Mike with his baby and asked if he could get a picture with us. He then thrust the (very unhappy) baby at Mike, who- having no other option- held the baby at arms’ length while the father happily snapped photos of us and his daughter. It was an awkward moment for everyone, especially poor Mike, who had no other choice but to smile for the camera whilst holding the wailing child.

At the boat factory!

We got back late, and headed straight to the MCC office, where we met before dinner and games. Dinner was at Ibu Retno’s, an MCC staff, and we had a great evening together, eating, playing games, playing piano (my deprived fingers thanked me!), and talking. It was a very full, very fun day.

We are supposed to get running water back at our house today, which, though it hasn’t dramatically affected me, will likely be a huge relief for my host family. The water hasn’t been working in our neighbourhood for the past three days, making everything from cooking to showering to using the bathroom more of a challenge. One fun thing that has come of it is that we got to shower at MCC, which meant a non-bucket shower for me! I am not very swift at the bucket shower, and I’m also embarrassingly slow at growing accustomed to the temperature. I’ve turned down Ibu Christine’s offers to boil water for me in an attempted act of bravery and integration, but at the sacrifice of my hair and bodily cleanliness! I think that once the water is back, I will make a more valiant effort at the bucket bath (or take Ibu Christine up on that boiled water).

This has turned into yet another essay of a post, the result of my desire to fill you in on everything I can possibly think of, and an inability to do so for a few days. Thanks to all of you who made it to the end!

Have a great day!

Love,
Ellery

One Month Down!

Why hello there, faithful followers!

I've said this before, but I'll say it again- thank-you all SO much for the words of encouragement that follow my blog posts. The day after I post something, I always get such uplifting, supportive emails or comments, and I am truly SO grateful for them. Thank-you!

This past week has been my favourite of my SALT experience so far. I explained a few days ago what a typical day looks like, but as we've learned more of the language, and as we have been encouraged to become more independent (praise be!), I've started to become a bit more confident and adventuresome.

In the afternoons last week, I most often returned to the MCC office to take advantage of the internet availability. Thursday nights are dinner/games nights, so on Thursday, us YALTers met at the office and then headed to a warung for nasi goreng padas (spicy fried rice- delicious, though my lips and nose still turn the most vibrant shade of red in response to the spiciness, which makes Native Indonesians doubt me when I say that I truly do like spicy food). We sat on mats at the Pancasila (the hub of the city, with a big grassy area), and enjoyed some entertainment along with our food (that entertainment being a group of teenage boys playing a ukulele and singing "you are my best friend, you are my brother, let's get together..." in hopes of connecting with us English speakers, and making a few extra bucks).

On Fridays, all of the MCC staff gets together for a meal, hosted at different long term MCCers' homes. This past Friday we went to Brandon and Danielle's after language lessons, and enjoyed some food and a chance to catch up with the other MCCers. After lunch, a few of us went to Karen and Major's to watch a movie and to eat as many of Karen's homemade oatmeal chocolate chip cookies as we could cram into our stomachs. (I suffered a "sakit perut"- sick stomach- as a result).

On Saturday, Laura and I decided that it was time we really sought out independence, so at 11:30, we headed out for a day of learning and adventure. We had high hopes for our day, and successfully made it to 12:30 before heading on over to KFC for some North American cuisine, and a break from being the targets of staring eyes and pointing fingers. On a side note, I asked Karen about this, and she said that Indonesians don't think it rude to stare and point. She said she's talked to Indonesians about it, and they are not taught that it is rude to do that because it really isn't considered rude. It's another cultural difference that I've discovered since arriving here.

After lunch, feeling the need to compensate for the western food, we headed to "The Cafe" (the name sounded promising) for milkshakes. I ordered a peanut butter chocolate shake, and quickly learned that you can indeed make a milk-less milkshake (water-based), and that peanut butter has the ability to curdle... It was not the highlight of my eating experiences in Indonesia.

I made the effort to enjoy my peanut butter watershake, but couldn't stomach more than a few sips.

We spent the afternoon learning the bus system, taking four of the sixteen bus routes in Salatiga. This was another learning opportunity for us. The buses cost rp. 2000 for a ride (about 25 cents), and they stop where you want them to. In order to get off the bus, you say "kiri" (left), and the bus pulls over. The nice thing about that is that you get exactly where you want to be- no walking! We also discovered that the bus pulls over for pretty much everyone walking by, and often backtracks down the road if the driver thinks he saw someone who may want a ride. The bus also doesn't do a loop- it has an end point, and turns around at that point. This sounded ridiculous to me at first, but then Major explained that there is often not a road available to create a loop, so the options are to not have a bus route to certain locations, or to turn around. I've learned how important it is to ask questions and avoid making assumptions about anything I encounter. We were told in the first week that there is a logical reason for most things people do here, just as there is a logical reason for most things we do in Canada, but sometimes that logic isn't apparent.

In the evening, Laura, Jason, and I met a group at Bu Rini's, the place with the beautiful view that I posted a picture of in my last post, and headed on a biking historical tour of Salatiga. We learned that Salatiga was at one point considered the most beautiful city in Central Java, and I believe it- it's surrounded by mountains and volcanoes, and there are many historical buildings. The tour was led by our language teacher, which was convenient because he could translate for us. We met back at Bu Rini's for dinner, music, and some independent films. It was a beautiful evening, and we got the chance to hang out with some really awesome people.

Enjoying snacks after our bike hike around Salatiga, with new friends

Church was at 6 AM on Sunday morning, and I went straight back to bed afterward to rest up for our afternoon hike up a mountain, which was described (entirely accurately) to me as walking up a set of stairs for two hours straight. I'll be honest, I thought I was going to die on that mountain. My legs seized, my vision blurred, and I was near puking at least twice. But I MADE IT! I made it ALL the way to the top of the mountain! Nevermind that the promised view of nine other mountain tops was obstructed by heavy clouds... I felt amazing! Below is a picture of said mountain. Don't be deceived by the photo, which makes it look like a glorified hill... It was intense!

That hill behind me is deceivingly difficult to climb! But I did it!

See? Proof!

 We returned from our hike satisfied and exhausted, and I fell asleep around 8:30. My way of living has changed so dramatically in the last month. At home, I love staying up late and waking up late. Here, I'll look at the clock and be like, 9 PM already!? Time to hit the hay! I only have to get up at 7AM, but I find that between two 30 minute bike rides and hours of constant thinking and translating in my mind, as well as an evening playing with (really adorable) three and five year old boys, I am more than ready for bed by 9:00.

We started this week off the same as last week, with language lessons all morning. This week we get three lunches provided by MCC. Today was because two people were here from MCC Akron. Tomorrow is because the leaders from the synods of the Mennonite churches in Indonesia are here. Friday is the usual MCC lunch. Tonight I was invited to play badminton with a group of people at the university, so I think that's what I'll be doing this evening. We'll see what the rest of the week holds!

Thinking of all of you in Canada and around the world! Have a great day!

Love,
Ellery

Photo Post!

I'll spare you all the wordy blog post that I normally create, and (finally) post some pictures instead! Enjoy!

MCC office, where we spend our time after language lessons.  (I usually sit on the chair closest to the computer)

The feast put on for us by Jason's host family. More dishes came out after these! (The man in the back right is Pak Lilik, my host father for my six weeks in Salatiga.) 

The young adult group at the Sola Gratia church, my host church in Semarang.

BBQ for Idul Fitri! My host family/extended family. Front row- host brother, Harvey, host mother Ibu Vonny, host father Pak Hariyanto. Beside me on my right is my host sister, Valen. (The barbecue wouldn't stay lit, but nothing that a fan and a little gasoline couldn't fix!)

The view from on a horse at Gedongsongo Temples

More view!

In front of one of the nine temples (they're very small!).

Enjoying rabbit satay and lontong after the ride!

Not the best picture, but an attempt at capturing the torch march and parade that goes by on the night of Idul Fitri

Zip-lining at the Fruit Plantation, up in the mountains!

My first day as a radio show host. The look on my face conveys my feelings...

Back in Salatiga! Language lessons from Pak Putut

The view from Waroeng Joglo "Bu Rini", the restaurant we ate at for lunch today.

SALT, not S,ALT

Hello Everyone!

It's been awhile since I've blogged, the reason being that I've spent the better portion of the last five days trying to figure out how to accurately put my reflections on the past week into words. I've come to the conclusion that it is impossible, and that as more and more time slips by, I'll remember less and less, so bear with me as I attempt to explain what I've learned this week.

We returned to Salatiga on Friday, after spending eight days in our host communities. I have never in my life been more excited to see people I could communicate with. I spent over a week in almost complete silence- my own fault, for not making more valiant efforts to study Bahasa Indonesia prior to arrival- and when Pak Lilik, Rikki, and Jason arrived, I fairly threw myself at them, overjoyed at the opportunity to speak again!

Over the weekend, story after story emerged from the YALTers about their week. Everyone had vastly different experiences (one common one being "sekit perut"- "sick stomach", with stories of how this manifested itself varying from not-so-embarrassing to extremely embarrassing), but it was a relief to realize that everyone struggled at some point or another, and some much more than others.

Having been back in Salatiga for three days now, I've had a bit of an opportunity to step out of my experience in Semarang, and reflect upon it. The biggest realization that I have come to has led me to re-post the following link, to "The Danger of A Single Story."

http://www.ted.com/talks/lang/eng/chimamanda_adichie_the_danger_of_a_single_story.html

Much to my chagrin, I have come to the conclusion that I embarked on this journey with an incredibly narrow view of "service." When I signed up for SALT, I subconsciously stuck a comma in after the S. I knew that this was going to be a learning experience, both for myself, and for those I came to serve, but there's where my mistake was made. I am not the only one serving this year. The community that I am in is serving me too. This realization took me all week, and is one that I am still struggling with. I discovered upon arrival in my host home, that I would not be setting my photos up on a dirt floor, nor would I be sleeping on a mattress made of straw; Far from it. I wrestled all week with the confusion that struck me as soon as I was shown my room. It was- is- beautiful. I felt so undeserving of such a nice space, and downright guilty that I would dare call this experience one of service when all of the amenities I am blessed with at home- and then some- appeared before me in Indonesia.

I have learned that these feelings underscore the mentality of us in the Global North that we, with all our power, knowledge, and wealth, must be the ones who serve the Global South. They need us, we think, and it is our duty to help. I know now that such a mindset is wrong. Every country has needs, and every country is also blessed with abundance in some form or another. Everyone serves everyone. I wouldn't be here if an Indonesian family didn't open their doors and inconvenience themselves- for an entire year- so that I would have somewhere to stay. Sure, I don't need a home that is so nice, but my community has provided me with the best it could offer. Would we not do the same? I'm learning that there are no requirements to service. There are no rules that have to be followed. Service is giving your best to those around you, and it's also being willing to receive the best that others have to offer.

It's hard for me to explain exactly what has been going through my mind, so I'm sorry if what I've said doesn't make very much sense. I hope it does! I could go on for a long time about just how much God is doing to reshape my way of thinking (already, in the first few weeks!), but I'll give myself a bit more time to process and reflect (and give a bit of a break from the heavy stuff for you who are still reading!).

We moved to our language learning homes yesterday, and I was able to half unpack for the first time since leaving Canada! I eagerly removed all my clothes from my suitcase, set up all of my photos (the three I brought with me), and dove into the letters that people wrote me before leaving home. I went to bed last night with a huge smile on my face, thankful for the awesome family I've been placed with for these six weeks, and also for the support network that I have here in Indonesia as well as at home.

We had our first day of language training today! Pak Putut is a fantastic teacher who uses a very laid back, hands-on approach. It looks like my weekdays will run much like today did: I woke up at 6:30 (this morning, 3 year old Steven woke me up with a smile that would melt anyone's heart), and got my first opportunity to cook for myself here. Ibu Christine, my host mom, helped me make an omelette for brekkie, before I hopped on my bike (my ticket to independence here in Salatiga) and met Laura at the intersection at the bottom of Suicide Hill (the hill I live off of that is a treat to bike down, but a doozy to ride up). Together, we navigated our way across town (uphill most of the way, it seems) to the language school, where we met the rest of the YALTers. Language training runs from 8-10AM for the group of us. At 10, we are divided into two groups of 4 for more intensive study opportunity. Each group gets an additional two hours, from 10-12 or 12-2. We decided that each day, we would alternate who stays until 12, and who comes back after a two hour break for their remaining two hours. We got the two hour break today, so 4 of us headed off to explore Salatiga, stopping at the Post office and a food court for jus melon (the juice here is delicious!) and mie ayam. We returned at noon, and the four who had remained headed off. The two hours flew by. We just sat and chatted, with Pak Putut working really hard to keep us speaking in Bahasa Indonesia (it's just so easy to drift into the English realm!). When 2:00 rolled around, we biked back to the MCC Office, where we've been hanging out ever since. Our afternoons are free to do with what we want. Today we are going on a search for bread (a bit of a challenge to track down in this rice-obsessed country) and stationary, so that I can start sending letters home! Speaking of, I am more than a bit happy to receive mail, and I am thrilled to provide you with a mailing address:

Ellery Penner
C/O MCC Indonesia
Jl. Merbabu No. 3
Salatiga
50724
Indonesia

I have been told that the postal system is fairly reliable here, and that letters take between 1 and 3 weeks to arrive. It's easiest to send mail to MCC because I have a mailbox here, and between trips I take to Salatiga, and trips that MCC workers take to Semarang, I should be able to get my letters shortly after they arrive here at MCC. (And I'm in the office every day for the next 6 weeks, so I can get mail myself! No pressure though!).

One of these days, the pictures I have promised will be posted! I am STILL on someone else's computer, but I PROMISE I will get some up this week. That is a promise!!

Have a great day, everyone! Good luck to all of you who are starting back with school! I'm thinking of you (especially Austin and Justine)!

Love,
Ellery