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