Danielle and Brandon's Adventures in Salatiga, Indonesia

a funny anecdote

2012-02-09T18:11:00.001+07:00

So last weekend on Saturday morning we went for a bike ride with our friend/student.

On the way back my chain fell off. Brandon (the wonderful hubby that he is) helped me get it back on but it made his hands very dirty. And we didn't have any tissues & there was not bathroom in sight.

Around this time it had also started to rain really hard, so we pulled off. I entered a store to buy some water and some hand-sanitizer. It was a new store for me, so I wasn't looking very carefully; I just grabbed the first bottle I saw (thinking this was just a new branch that I hadn't seen before. There are many brands of hand-sanitizers here).

I took it out to Brandon. He used it. Then he looked at the bottle, read it and said:

"Ummm....Danielle, what is this?"

I said, "Isn't it hand-sanitizer?"

I took the bottle, and read the back of it.

Under instructions on how to use it said: pour some in your hands and apply it to your female genital area.

uhh...no wonder the seller was smirking at me!

I am thankful I can still have these laughable experiences even though I've lived here for nearly 2 1/2 years. :)

So why do we study psychoanalysis?

2012-02-08T23:03:00.003+07:00

The other day during my office hours I had a student visit me. This student is in my Literary Theory & Application class and he wanted to know why do we still talk about Freud & study psychoanalysis as a part of literature?

He especially wanted to know because he had talked with another English department linguistics-focused student who said that the theory was no longer used for that discipline. In fact, the words his friend used were "gila!" which means "crazy!"

We also had discussed this in class: that psychoanalysis & Freud's theories are not always regarded as "credible" by psychologists either.

So: why in the world do the crazy literary folks still use this? ;) (Embellishment/exaggeration: mine).

He didn't say this in so many words but he did seem to suggest as much. Why do we still do pay any attention to this?

I found myself a bit shocked by the question. And I had to laugh at myself by my amazement...that I spend so much time on this class, I am so interested in it, and passionate about its importance to furthering critical thinking among my students...and yet I didn't have an concrete answer right at the tip of my tongue as to why we learn about this.

Also, even though I knew it, I was having a hard time articulating it to this student.

What I eventually came out with was below. (Even though I am not entirely satisfied by the answer, I think it's one piece of a 5000 piece puzzle, if you will.)

We study psychoanalysis because literature (in my opinion & in my philosophy) is not about a pursuit of truth. It is also not a science. We, as literature scholars and teachers, are not interested in formulas or rules or theories that we can implement to give us "the right" answer.

Rather, we use literary theories and criticism because they are tools we can use, to enable us to better understand a different perspective or angle of literature.

As a "literature person," as I am so often labeled here (funny in and of itself because my identity I was assigned & took on back in the US was a rhet/comp person), I don't buy the idea that there is one right way to read literature. And I fight like hell against that idea in my literature classrooms. I try not to pound my own ideas & beliefs into my students, but one thing I do emphasize again and again is this: there is no one solitary T-capital T-true right reading of a literary work.

I spend a lot of time emphasizing this because a lot of my students are paralyzed by fear of not understanding the work, of being told that they are wrong, of lacking confidence.

I believe that this fear can be paralyzing. And I believe that when it takes over the students give it power...and it takes their focus away from what is important.

In my opinion, what is important is that my students can explain and justify their interpretation. (using textual support)

So in my lower level literature classes (like InLit) we approach this idea of alternative interpretations (which is new for some. And even if it is not "new" to others, most students seem hesitant to (be able to) believe me...they seem suspicious that it's possible that there isn't a correct answer. Or, it's like they size me up, trying to ascertain if what I really mean is that I'm making them have to please me. Have to guess what I 'want' the interpretation to be.

I continue emphasizing this notion/this philosophy of mine, but when they reach the higher level lit courses & if they want to write a "literature thesis", we, as dosen, want them to have a theoretical background to support their ideas. Literary theory and criticism provide them with those tools to gain a different perspective or viewpoint of literature.

And if you learn practical application of theory (as opposed to just the theory as philosophy or idea) then you will learn that the exact POINT of the theories is to acknowledge varying interpretations or perspectives. And to help you get to that point that you can recognize them.

And in my understanding (or interpretation, if you will) of critical thinking is to recognize varying perspectives.

This is why I see the teaching of literature as such a fundamentally important part of furthering critical thinking.

And literary theories are valuable tools for helping students actualize this.

Perhaps I digress---the point is--even if we think of psychoanalysis as a therapy & a branch of science that is crazy, we can still understand the theory as being an interesting notion to entertain, food for thought, if you will. And as I also told my students, there is just enough truth in Freud to make him worth listening to. And--worth considering: in our lives and in our literature.

You know to carry over from another class, it reminds me of how my poetry class discussed Lewis Carroll's poem "Jabberwocky" today. We discussed how if you were to look up a good 1/3 of the poem, you find that the words do not exist. Yet, ENOUGH of it is true that it makes it interesting and understandable. (At least somewhat).

And as for the part that's not real or understandable--it still makes it intriguing to imagine: if this were actually a word and had real meaning, what do I think/could I guess it would mean?

I think this creates a clear parallel to psychoanalysis. Freud's ideas of the various stages of infantile sexuality will always be something I will scratch my head at. I'll always have to admit when I explain psychoanalysis that I don't believe all (or perhaps even the majority) of it either.

While at the same time, I cannot deny the partial truth his theory & ideas carry. His impact & presence in American culture is evident through commonly used phrases & common knowledge such as: "Freudian slips" or "Defense Mechanisms" or the Oedipus remarks of "he married his mama." Not to mention the "unconscious" and the idea of how "egos" affect us, and in our relations with others. These ideas are undoubtedly Freudian, even if other uncredited parties also exist.

I also told my student that as literary scholars we are interested in life: and life involves: people, a person's psyche, a person's social relationships, their culture, their economic condition, their philosophy, their religion, their history, their morals, etc...the whole lot of it.

And that's why literary theories are inter-disciplinary. We, as literature folks, don't *usually* claim our expertise in every literary theory AND the discipline from which it originally derived. But we do understand literature as important because it is: an art, which reflects life & human experience.

In my opinion: that's why literature rocks.

I love that there is no right answer.

Because usually life is like this too. There are areas of ambiguity: shades of grey where capital T-truths and right answers blur and meld and fade out.

We often try (as taught to us by our religions, morals, parents, or cultures) to seek and follow and live out these "easy" paths of truth and righteousness and absolutely certainty.

And yet, I believe that the real CAPITAL T Truth is this: life is a helluva lot more complex than that.

We try to make everything fit in neat little boxes because it's easier. It feels better. It's a false sense of security. Some may argue (to be extremely Freudian) it's our defense mechanism, as human beings.

But serious analysis and varying perspectives (that literature--and post-modernism--has helped us to do) reveal that varying "sides of the story" exist. Though cultures may try to silence and marginalize some parties...and even if we try to pretend that everyone agrees with us, that our reading is "the right" way...in literature, or in life...

Alas, when we stop...and can/are equipped with the tools to defamiliarize ourselves and our situations, we find that there is more that exists---if we are brave enough and open-minded enough and critical enough to look for it, and even more, to acknowledge & fairly consider it.

And to me? This is what literature (can) do...to a 't'...in this case the 't' does not mean 'truth' but 'tepat', which in Indonesian means precise & exact.

Moral of the story (since so many of my students seek morals as "the reason" why they are reading literature in university):

Literature IS needed. Beyond basic language teaching: grammar, culture, idioms sentence structure, vocabulary, verb tenses.

But equally (if not, more important) for fostering critical thinking skills.

And literary theory is the tool to help us further our critical thinking in the field of literature. And this includes the "craziness" that is Freud's psychoanalysis.

Amen...

P.S.

And let us Christians remember: there is a reason why the Gospel has 4 perspectives. We have 4 different stories...not because one is more true or better, but because each provides its own unique point of view for our understanding. Because while God and Christ's vision may be perfectly complete, our limitations is as mere mortals who we need varying viewpoints to see the situation as clearly, as completely, as we possibly can.

My Indonesian students' thoughts on 9/11

2012-01-28T21:05:00.001+07:00

As stated in previous posts, I am teaching a new elective class this semester, American Culture & Literature. We are currently discussing 9/11 and after effects.

The first homework assignment I gave them was to write a journal about their own understanding of 9/11, from an Indonesian person's point of view. Some of them were still in elementary school when September 11th happened. Others were in middle school.

But before we began discussing it in class, I was curious to first know what they thought of about 9/11, how they came to understand what had happened/in what way, and what are their thoughts on it now.

****Please note, two important things:

1--These are direct quotes. I have not changed the wording on them.

2--We had not begun discussing September 11th in class at all. All of these thoughts are from what came to their mind when I asked them to write about 9/11.

3-My students are a mixture of Muslims and Christians. (I've heard a breakdown of 60% Christian & 40% Muslim, just to give you a rough idea.)

Some of their responses were tremendously striking to me. Humbling. Jarring. Insightful.

Happy reading:

From my American Culture & Literature Students' journals:

"After September 11 2001 there is assumption that all of Muslim is a terrorist, and some people began to treat Muslim badly. I do not blame America if they became hate and afraid of Muslims, but I'm disappointed of those who treated not guilty Muslim badly. If a group labeled as certain religions does something bad, it does not mean that all people in that religious outside the group also bad."

"I learned how important to not be too emotional, think clearly what should be done. What the use of hate and blame each other?"

"American troops' attack on Iraq also caused more injustice."

"Americans also interfered too far in Iraq (well, not only in Iraq)..."

"The sustainable brutality never stops until present which caused more and more people to suffer."

"The fear of Islam eventually thrives in the 'most prominent' land on earth."

"I really hope that the war is over soon...I am glad that Americans can finally have their revenge paid off."

"The US government seemed to get really paranoid about the Moslems. They even once considered all Moslems as terrorists....However, as time goes by and it's been more than 10 years now, in my opinion their fear of the Moslems became irrational."

"I think it raise an issue of the fear of Muslim in the US, which also impact the US relation to other countries especially where Muslim are the dominant religion such as Indonesia."

"It's hard to make Americans understand that the action of the terrorists doesn't only badly affect them, but it also affects us, all Moslems in this world."

"They don't know kind Moslems and that's why they think that all Moslems are terrorists and therefore should be banned in the US."

"So, if anything, Americans should be more wise and smart not to invite arguments and rumors from all over the world."

"It was like America want to fight against terrorist with another kind of terrorism."

"Not only that, America also, indirectly, declared war to Muslim people."

"America (under Bush's lead) has also killed many numbers of blameless civilians and armies of those Muslim countries."

"It becomes some kind of selfish reasons to stand on their beliefs and to secure their party even by authorizing the act of killing people. What a shame that they became the victim of their own hunger to rule the world on their hands, and sadly there were many people who suffered and sacrificed their lives just to defend the leaders' beliefs of being the "right side." Who's perfect anyway? Why couldn't we live in peace? If we believe in God and has strong commitment to do what has became as His will, why should we fight each other and claim that one of us is better than the other?"

"America has made something brutal to Islamic country, like Iraq or Afghanistan."

"America got a severe trauma from that incident."

"I think that the Americans are overreacting. They are over generalizing; they think that all Muslim people are evil. It's not true. Because of an Islamic group (Al-Qaeda is bad, it doesn't mean that all Muslims are bad...It is like that America and Muslim become enemy after that incident, and the Americans think that all Muslim people are bad."

"After the attach, American started to pay attention to Islam. Many of them became hate Moslems. They soon make a generalization that all Moslems were terrorists...America uses the issue of terrorism as a tool to attack some countries especially Islam countries like Iraq and Afghanistan. I think the attach is not only because America wants to fight against terrorist but also as a tool to destroy countries that America seen as big enemies that may shift the powerful image of America."

"I believe that not all the victims understood about the situation happened."

"They thought that America loves war and wants to be the best in the world."

It's ironic because not all the victims of that tragedy are the target of the terror...One thing that I want is just no more war and harmony in diversity."

"America overacted with the tragedy. After the tragedy, they began to fight against muslim. I think the tragedy of 9/11 is used by America to fight against muslim countries like Iraq...For me, America is so selfish...They bombarded the country. Many people die and suffer from the war."

"Muslim people in America are being ostracized. They began to overgeneralization that all muslim is a terrorist and American began to hate Muslim people...I hope that there is not more war and that the relationship between American and muslim people will be better."

"After the tragedy America which is well known as a land of freedom, it is not free anymore for Muslim like me, especially if you are from West Asia...I do believe that not only American who suffer because of this terrorist, me as a Muslim and Asian also suffer because of them...Asian is not terrorist."

"9/11 tragedy brought the racial issue which affected the humanity. It caused a bad condition in which many people do not feel safe anymore because of terrorism attacks. The condition in which changes the point of view of American people toward Muslims..."

"Overall the 9/11 tragedy caused disability in the world, such as terrorism, killing, hatred, war, fighting, etc."

"In my opinion, Americans make stereotype that terrorist must be Muslims, and Muslims must be terrorists. In fact, not all Muslims are terrorists and not all terrorists are Muslims."

"In my opinion it is too hasty to blame and accuse somebody if there is not prove, especially about the races."

"They called it jihad, but I don't think so. From my understanding, jihad is a fight to defend Islamd. Jihad can be done when Island is threatened...terrorism is not jihad. Al Qaeda was too fanatic about Islam and interpreted jihad in the wrong way."

"Muslim is becoming the number one American enemy after 9/11 September tragedy. Most of Americans distrust the Muslim, especially who wore Muslim clothes. They thought that Muslim is a terrorist...Many Americans attack Muslim as the retaliatory 9/11 September tragedy."

"As I know as a Moslem, the word "Jihad" means simply a holy war of the struggle against or resistance to something for the sake of a goal, or spiritual fight against the evil in yourself...however, we also do "Jihad" in ourselves."

"After the 9/11 coverage, some Americans fear of Moslema dn think that all Moslems were so dangerous...They thought that Islamic religion taught about radicalism."

"They started to fear the moslem and they wanted to take vengeance of their suffered from a loss...From that time, America was fear of moslem and they wanted to take revenged. It was the beginning of war between America and the far east country."

"In the religion I profess, Christians are taught not to repay evil with evil. Judgment is God's rights and human beings have not right to judge others...For me terrorist is a very foolish and futile thing."

"September 11, 2001 made Americans started to think that Islamic countries have terrorists or even muslims are regarded as terrorists."

"...have an assumption all moslems are regarded as terrorists."

"In fact, I notice and know that not all moslems are terrorists."

"But, I see the America became so phobia with the Muslim, so suspicious to every Muslim and thought that they were all terrorists. They treated them maybe badly...It also must be so painful for the Muslim who are not terrorists like the Americans think but treated as...that."

"People hates Muslim especially people in American. They thought that Muslim is terrorists...I disagree about the thoughts of hating Muslim because not all Muslim are involved to the organization of AL-Qaeda. If it is about religion, in the Bible written that we have to love and pray for our enemy not to kill or hate them."

"It has caused unsafe feeling in the society...in fact, the consequences of economy also happened to Indonesia."

"This act of terrorism also leads to social gap and separation between several communities. They will lose trust and tolerance and this may endanger the unity and peace all over the world."

"The tragedy changed everyone's life...It led them just into two options, to be a person that could learn something and move on their life or a person who could not accept the truth and tried to find someone to be blame."

"So it used every possible way to wipe out what it thought as terrorists."

"American xenophobia with Muslim...For me, the reaction of American toward that situation was too exaggerated since they attacked Muslim and discriminated Muslim in the world...It is so cruel. Many innocent people die in those aggressions."

"May be if I were American I will be very angry with the terrorist for they will threaten my life but it is not a good way to over generalize...Maybe the terrorist is Muslim but Muslim is not a terrorist. That's my point."

"America fed Iran and Iraq with bomb every day. America didn't even think that not all of the civilians were terrorists. American didn't even care about the future of children there. America did all of those wards because it wanted to satisfy its revenge...I think America has walked to the wrong path ever since that incident happened and it just wants to show off how powerful its domination in the international world."

Literary theory: what if it was better before we knew?

2012-01-27T21:50:00.001+07:00

I had to chuckle to myself today in my literary theory class. We had just finished discussing Michelle Yeo's piece using a feminist deconstruction & Jungian dream to consider an "alternative meaning" of Harry Potter's "Chamber of Secrets," namely the part that shows how adolescent boys Harry & friend have a hard time "finding" their way "into" the Chamber of Secrets, whose entrance is through to the girls' bathroom. So they have to "caress" their way in and speak the language of the serpents (?!?!) in order to enter this chamber that is described as "wet," "dark," and "ominous." Later, upon exiting, they emerge covered with "muck," "blood" and "slime."

(Cough, cough: think vaginal connection)

I got the usual shocked looks, nervous giggles and whispering, and deeply confused expressions.

As always, I encouraged questions. One student asked me, "what if I was better before, before knowing all of this?"

I had to chortle. And think back to my days when I was a student. I remember having nearly the same sentiments as I questioned whether I was really better off for knowing "this".

I answered as honestly as I could. I told them I too had been in their same position: questioning whether I was really better off for knowing how to look for/notice homo-erotic imagery in the Picture of Dorian Gray & Dr. Jekyll & Mr. Hyde, and became sensitized to vaginal symbolism in the novel, She.

I also have struggled with feeling like I can't just enjoy reading, or focus on it simply for entertainment. Because I, to borrow a recent popular phrase, have been taught to think, read, and educate others "to read literature like an English professor," supersaturated with semiotic significance, with Freudian insinuating "hmmm's...?" thrown in there, with the nagging feminist voice piping in & demanding clarification "so, why do women appear like this or like that?"

I told them that there are definitely times where it's hard to detach yourself from this new knowledge/theory/way of reading. But, on the same hand, there are other times where I can't tell you how thankful I am to have the tools to more thoroughly interpret what is going on.

For example: I am more sensitive to how women are portrayed in pieces of fiction, or in films, or in any story: where I can analyze & question women's portrayals, and I can understand the implications as significant for what it represents in society or a larger scale, and I can critique it. Ie: what does this portrayal of women indiicate about culture, society, patriarchy, religion, etc, etc.

However, at the same hand, I do hesitate. Perhaps not so much with literature, but because of my similar experience with theatre: one I have questioned many a time.

Looking back, I learned what I "was supposed to" learn with theatre so well that I ended up hating it. It couldn't be fun for me; rather, I learned the imperfections of (my & others) acting so well that the game, the art, was no longer fun. Instead, it all just seemed hopeless and fruitless, like a stupid, pointless endeavor. Specifically where my own acting performance was concerned.

I think I learned a lot. I think I improved a lot with acting.

But was it worth it? All of the years and the effort and money spent on the education? If I were only to then end up loathing something that had once given me such joy, something I had once considered what I was "meant to do" with my life?

I hope that learning literary theory, these tools, will help my students to develop a greater love and appreciation for literature.

But, even if it doesn't, and they end up on the opposite route and hating it like I did with theatre--well, at least the knowledge & application of literary theory will build their critical thinking skills, which will help them in many other areas of their lives.

As for my simultaneous increased knowledge of theatre & disdain for it, I'm not sure. Other than it helped me to end up where I am right now. Doing what I believe I should be doing/am meant to be doing. And, I do believe my knowledge and study of theatre has helped me to be a better teacher in my delivery, which I firmly believe is 90% of teaching (I firmly believe that Teaching = 90% delivery & 10% preparation).

But then, on the other hand, it could be a bunch of baloney.

Or, at the very least, a stretch.

But when you go into debt to get a college education for something that you completely adore, then loathe it & abandon it...after you've dedicated 4 years of your life to doing it (wholeheartedly), it is quite a let down.

And as disappointed as I am, maybe I just try to find something to justify it with, because if not, the reality just seems too devastatingly harsh.

Maybe I am just a hopeless, unrelenting optimist.

But the pressing need to see the benefit remains:

I do have a pretty great husband as a result of my theatre years.

I 'guess' I'll take it. :)

Anyways, I digress.

My students, well, Chalk it all up to:

Additional experience, increased knowledge, more education is *usually* good. Maybe not always. But more often than not. Even if it's not immediately understood or appreciated as helpful.

But in hindsight it can be reflected on/looked back on as experience-building, and character-building.

Also, sometimes we need to learn more about something in order to be able to have a better idea of ourselves: our beliefs and values. Of our direction, our goals for our lives. (And, conversely, what we don't want/believe in/value/are working towards.)

Perhaps this sounds hokey, and maybe it is, but I really believe it.

At least this is true for my experience, in my 28 years of life.

Or at least what I choose to believe. And it has worked for me.

And moving to Indonesia, living and teaching here has made me appreciate my life, namely my education more than ever before.

I hope and pray my students will (if not today than one day) look back on their education and say the same thing themselves. And I hope to contribute my (very small) part of that.

Amen--let it be so.

P.S. Cultural Catch 22: Chuckle-worthy, an addendum to the last post

2012-01-26T21:16:00.000+07:00

I had to laugh to myself, as I was considering my previous post about cultural differences:

For me, this great need, unquenchable thirst, if you will, for being and remaining distinct, even affects me when I consider how much a product of my culture I am.

By this I mean I don't like knowing and realizing that I am truly "such" a product of my own culture.

Why? Well, precisely because my culture tells me that I should be individualistic, unique, and distinct.

That's quite the catch 22. :)

"I'm just an ordinary girl." VS "I'm special; I can do anything:" Cultural By-Products

2012-01-26T20:29:00.003+07:00

Cross-culture understanding 101:

Something Brandon & I have observed & marveled at is the comment we've heard (from many students) on how she is just "an ordinary girl."

Coming from a very western point of view, this is striking because it is something you just don't hear a lot in our culture.

What's more, is even if it is true, you don't say it.

Why?

Well, because you don't want to admit to it.

I come from a culture that encourages individuality and "specialness." It brings me back to my leadership 101 class, and how our professor told us that our generation (though I think it works for our culture too, perhaps moreso), was one that our parents sang to us the "because you're special" song too much.

I remember when he said this, the whole class erupted in laughter.

I certainly can't speak for the rest, but for me it was funny because it was so true.

My mom always told me that.

I don't remember her singing it but I do recall hearing it said A LOT.

And I remember having it reinforced to me a lot: whether from children's songs or books, movies or television shows, relatives or whoever.

Even beyond children's pieces, it's such a pervasive part of our culture: I remember hearing it in one of my favorite tv shows in college, "Gilmore Girls." There's an episode the last season when the daughter accuses the mother that her current disappointment is all the mother's fault because "You told me I could do anything I want."

Bottom line: The message was clearly sent: American parents want their children to be (or at least believe they are) special, unique, gifted, capable.

Even if it's not necessarily true. (Perhaps especially when it's not at all true.)

Because we want to pretend or hope or act like we ARE special. [Indonesians calls this "sok:" pretending to be able to do something or to be something.] Likely because it's what we've been taught is a good thing to be, ever since we were very little.

Now contrast that with what I have so often heard & read in Indonesia, in manner of self-description:

"I am just an ordinary girl."

"I'm just your average girl."

"I'm just normal."

Or, the one that really "took the cake," so to speak:

I helped to interview a candidate who was applying for a lecturer position. He commented that he was "just an ordinary person, like all the rest of you."

I had to chuckle, because this would so NOT be what you'd wanna say in an interview in America. I have always been told that what you want to do for an interview or an application in the US is to "sell yourself." You want to really "show 'em" why YOU (and NOT them!). You're supposed to even make your weaknesses sound positive or like potential growth areas.

Here, however, his response was met with gentle smiles and nods of approval for how nice, humble and "normal" of a response it seemed.

For some Americans, especially ones coming from certain families, being normal and living an average life is something that is considered a great failure, a travesty.

You want to rise above. You want to prove yourself. You are encouraged to. And this largely drives the actions of many Americans. In so many aspects of our lives.

And then after you live your normal life, you hope for your kids' sake that they will live extraordinary lives.

Granted, America is a very diverse place with a "melting pot" o'different cultures. But I think it's true enough to say the need or desire for "uniqueness" is the case for a lot of us.

Perhaps this is an example where the whole individual vs. group/collectivist culture really surfaces.

What I've learned here is: you want to avoid being or appearing sombong (arrogant) at all costs (even if/when it means sitting in a class and not participating to boost your grade, confessing you don't understand, or giving the teacher what is asked for). You don't want to stand out. Even when you do stand out, and even when you work hard to distinguish yourself & to stand out, you don't want to make it well known or draw attention to it--even at critical, high-stakes times (like during an interview).

My, cultural lessons are strong.

Or, when we Americans try to delude themselves into believing that they are really amazingly special & unique creatures. Perhaps with a motive: motivate ourselves, try to believe this. DO BELIEVE IT! ONWARD! SUCCEED!

Which is right or better? A fruitless question. How can you possibly determine that? In fact, what use is there in comparing them? (Other than to help this person, caught in a 4 year cross-cultural venture, to process it all.)

I will only say this, from my experience as an American and as a resident of Indonesia for 2 years and 4 months: I think that they both have definite advantages. And more importantly, they both work for their individual cultures.

And I see potential negative implications in both:

American parents can and do inflate egos of their children. We create kiddos who are sombong, overly confident, and downright haughty. We are an over-confident people, which clearly shows in our relations with other countries, our interactions & relationships with each other, and actions--presently, in the past, and sorry to say it, but surely in the future as well.

The potential impact in Indonesia? Well, at times there can be such a push to blend in/not stand out that it can hold people back from their potential. (I've noticed this with my students in our classroom) And not just from achieving their own success and endeavors, but for the greater good. Sometimes encouraging individuals on, or to stand out, can be better for a society. Because certain people have certain strengths and if we were all to just "ikut" (follow) this "we're all normal" & "blend-in mentality," & remain "diam saja" (=just quiet, blending in) than limited progress could be made (in whatever area).

While I see the potential benefits and downfalls of both, I must admit that it's hard to imagine not encouraging this "you're special" mentality to children: either to: my own hypothetical ones, kiddos I come in contact with, or my college students.

Maybe part of it is because I'm a female. And a feminist. And I believe that there are a lot of people, namely women, but those with low self esteem too, who really need boosts of confidence. They need to feel somewhat bangga (=rightfully proud, as opposed to the haughty proud of "sombong") And when they receive it, they flourish.

Or maybe it's just because of the stronghold grip that our culture has on us. And while we may remove ourselves from our home culture and receive a self-education like never before, and while we may grow accustomed and adapt somewhat to our new society, we're still like intersecting Venn Diagrams, and we'll never entirely make it out of our "cultural mindset" circle.

Why I know I am meant to go back to school to get my doctorate:

2012-01-25T17:49:00.001+07:00

I was pondering today how I know I am meant to pursue the phD track:

1---I miss school. No, like REALLY really miss it.

And it's not in just a romanticizing way, the kind like once I'm back I realize why I was happy to be out. No. I remember walking along on campus when I was doing my MA, just thanking God and being so happy that I was there, that I had this opportunity. I didn't know if I would get any further education, and I was just insanely content to be there, at those moments, where I was at and doing what I was doing. And looking back now, I miss the whole stupid lot: studying and learning and having to write papers, getting all anxious about getting tests and papers back. Call me a nerd or crazy or stupid, but it's true.

(I was the weirdo kid who sat in class, crying on the last day of school, sitting next to classmates ecstatic about the long summer vacation.)

2----I like to critically think and discuss and banter with other critical thinkers about a vast array of areas: academia, teaching, theory (literary, culture, rhet/comp, etc) pedagogy, feminism, etc. And I miss it when I don't have people around to hold those discussions with.

I also miss it when my schedule and others' don't allow for discussions like these. Because there are papers to grade and meetings to get to and tasks to accomplish related to class. I want to be able to just focus on learning and being educated and reading and writing. And even though (I know) I'll get stressed and overwhelmed and crazy with those tasks--I can't wait to get back to it. (Masochist? Yeah. Probably.)

3---Now don't get me wrong--I love to teach, I really do. But I also love to learn and I love to be a student. And I sometimes get downright green with envy, so unbelievably jealous of my students.

Ah, how I long for the crazy confusion, the excitement, and the hustle and bustle of starting a new semester. Sometimes the need and longing is so great to be back there that it almost physically hurts. (Again, commence name-calling: "psycho!" I deserve it!)

4---I love to grow and to develop. And while I know that I have been doing both these past few years living here in Indonesia, it's in a different way. I miss the tremendous intellectual, academic growth that I want to be engaged in. That I have missed since graduating with my MA.

Now, I am aware that teachers can do their own growth intellectually & academically. Obviously. Arguably, the best teachers do it & they value that: they realize its importance for themselves, their profession and productivity, and their students' well being & education. I believe this & I certainly try to do the same.

But the thing is it also takes time. And when you teach a full load (13-18 credits) with lesson plans and grading, participate in meetings and committees, you can't pursue those things like you may want to.

*sigh*

I miss libraries saturated with books and books and books, and I miss access to many journals and various data bases, etc, etc. I miss entering libraries, with that "old book" smell, and leaving with a stack full of books checked out, excited to dive into my next project.

I miss school supplies: pens and paper and notebooks and binders and agendas and bookbags, new laptops and grumbling about the cost of textbooks. Sure, I buy those things now but with a different attitude and intention.

I guess I never understood what sounded so bad about being a "professional student." ;)

"Where were you when you heard the news of 9/11?"

2012-01-21T18:50:00.001+07:00

It's a common question we Americans ask one another:

"Where were you when you heard the news about 9/11?"

It's because the question/idea is so understood. Arguably most of us Americans DO know where we were & what we were doing. (So much so that the question/sentiment was even put into a "evangelical post 9-11" song, set to the background music of Silent Night).

In my American Culture & Literature class I tried to make my students understand this: that 9-11 was such a defining event for Americans, so emotional and intense and panic-rousing that people will always remember where they were and what they were doing when they "heard the news."

I have heard older generations liken it to their experience upon hearing JFK was shot.

I was trying to get my Indonesian students to understand how defining of an event this was for Americans.

And yet, I find it hard to articulate. Hard to show. Nearly impossible to convey to them just how monumental of a day it was, how intense these images of the twin towers falling are for Americans.

Ah, perhaps it's a fruitless endeavor.

I did show them coverage of the towers falling and tried to emphasize to them that this is what Americans watched over and over again in Sep. 2001. (And we are still watching these images again and again...when there is a commemorative show or ceremony, on the anniversary of the date, etc.)

Why the need to emphasize this to them? Well, because I wanted to show them:

1-how 9-11 immediately affected America, Americans & American culture, for sure. (The name of the class is American culture & literature.)

But also, and more importantly--

2-I want to help them understand (how) some subsequent effects of 9-11 happened. How when people are angry and emotional and scared that they can react in some very scary ways...they can be pushed or convinced to believe some very scary things. And they can be lead to do some very scary things--especially when security and justice and revenge and peace is promised, as a result.

In line with #2, one of the things we're going to discuss is the rise in Islamophobia and xenophobia in America (especially as shown through the media).

Now, it's not easy to do this. I am certainly not proud of my country when we talk about many post 9-11 events. On the contrary, I cringe. I am embarrassed. I am certainly not "saving face" for myself, or for my country, in this.

No, I cringe. I'm mortified.

I cringed when we discussed Toby Keith's "Courtesy of the Red White and Blue" song in class the other day. And I physically cowered when I admitted to them how popular the song was post-9/11. And when we broke down the lyrics and analyzed them, understanding what the lyrics were really saying, how the singer spoke on behalf of all Americans, how he promised/threatened revenge, and how the use of patriotism/love of America & freedom was used as a manipulative tool.

Next week I will be again mortified when I show them some American political cartoons, images created by Americans that show some intense, irrational fear of Muslims (which include Obama), that were circulated around e-mail and posted in various websites. I'll also embarrassingly show them some clips from tv shows and movies that perpetuate this idea that Muslims = radicalism = terrorism = need to be afraid of "them." (despite the existence of American muslims...and despite how many Muslims living in the world who are NOT terrorists)

Why am I doing this?

Well, for several different reasons:

1-I want to help my Indonesian students de-glamorize American and challenge their stereotypes of America & Americans as always being educated, rational, logical, scientific, intelligent people in every way and all the time--for every event. While this may be true for some, it's definitely not true for others. (In my opinion, breaking stereotypes = promoting further critical thinking.)

2-And, perhaps more importantly, when people are scared and angry and hurting and feel threatened, the ability to think rationally, think critically, and to remain calm does not prevail.

*In essence, I want them to understand that we *all* need to hone our critical thinking skills. As an educator, I strive to help my students think more critically, as I think it's arguably one of the most important skills we help our students foster. They will forget rules and facts of grammar & various theories. They'll probably also forget the stories and poems we'll discuss in literature class.

But developing critical thinking will be something that will provide them with necessary life skills, so that when they read a newspaper, or see a news or tv show, or hear some faulty logic that they will be more prepared to take a step back and consider what they are being told to believe from various angles. Instead of simply & immediately accepting what they are told, they will learn how to think in order to question it, further consider what is being said & the implications of it.

I am hoping that providing a real scenario (like 9/11 & the subsequent war), as opposed to a fabricated scenario, will appeal to students and will also help them to see the potential dangers of a lack of critical thinking, a lack of information, and blindly following and unquestioning authority.

*I also hope them to see that religion can be (mis)used and manipulated to promote personal or political agendas: like war and cultivating a sense of patriotism and nationalistic pride to try and rouse citizens' willingness to support the country going to war.

Sigh.

Lofty ambitions? Perhaps.

Ah well. Here goes.

Mari/Monggo/bring it on!

A new undertaking...

2012-01-20T15:17:00.001+07:00

This semester I am teaching a class called American Culture & Literature. This is the first time I have ever taught this class before and it has proven (thus far) to be challenging, exciting, and overwhelming--all at once.

prior to the start of campus and since the start, I feel like I am swimming in a ocean full of possibilities.

It would be similar to trying to decide which materials to include (and which not to include) for an Indonesian Culture & Literature class: which group of Indonesians to focus on: Java? Batak? Biak? Madurese? Sasak? Balinese?

How does one choose?

And what about the literature? Past? How far? Present? Prose? Poems? Songs? Films/tv shows? Media: speeches?

Whew! *pusing* (=Indonesian word that means: dizzy, or headache, or stressed)

But I also know that there are many students dying to take this class. (This is not a boastful statement, as I do not think the reason is me. Rather, many are enamored with & curious about American culture.)

So, after spending an afternoon creating the syllabus & crafting a list of readings from an anthology used by the previous lecturer when he taught the class last year--

I took a look at it. Sighed. Highlighted it and deleted it.

(Don't worry: I copied it and pasted it onto to another page.)

But I might as well have erased it, because later I ended up scrapping the whole thing.

And instead, I created a survey to ask my students what they wanted to learn about this semester. I gave them some suggestions to check off and left another space blank for them to fill in.

I tallied up their responses and we have a (rough) approximation of what we will discuss:

Possible Themes:

-9/11, after effects on America, portrayal of Muslims in media & subsequent Islamophobia, etc.

-African-Americans in America (less on slavery, but more emphasis on segregation times & also celebration of African-American culture by A-A writers & poets)

-Post-WWII effects, specifically on Jewish Americans and Japanese Americans.

-Native Americans (historically speaking: massacres & mistreatment, and celebration of Native American cultures.

-Puritan America & Salem Witch trial

*-Satire & humor ?

*-(Changing) family values

*-the Beat Movement

* = if time permits

ALSO: PLEASE NOTE!
If there are any American friends or family reading this post with suggestions or ideas, I'd love to hear them. Please know too that I am planning to use a mixture of media/texts to analyze: films, songs, speeches or audio recordings, tv shows, poems, short fiction, essays, etc.

*Stay tuned: Later, I will also share some excerpts from student journals (about 9-11). Very interesting. Very humbling.

My 'atta girl' moment I wanted to share...

2012-01-20T11:27:00.002+07:00

As a teacher you sometimes have to wonder sometimes if you're really making a difference.

We have evaluations and assessments to try and show that we are; all desperate attempts for proof that we are helping to change our students, their lives & their thought-processes.

But sometimes you have to sigh & wonder: yeah, but--how can you REALLY know? Where is the hard evidence? And what can you really use as a measurement? A's? Grades above 90%? Or more generously, 85%?

It all seems rather flimsy (since grading can be so subjective) and also so trivial to base your whole self-worth (aka: Am I doing something meaningful in my life?) from a stupid number or a letter.

But every now & then, by the grace of God, we are granted these moments:

Yesterday in my Intro to Lit class I had a touching "atta boy" moments, for which I am grateful & wanted to share:

(Unfortunately said moment came a few days after I was asked to fill out my annual MCC report, where they asked for specific proof of how I know I am making a difference.)

But I digress--we were discussing Chinua Achebe's short piece: "Marriage is a Private Affair" and the characters (protagonist, antagonist, flat vs. round, etc).

Within the story there is not the best portrayal of the main female character: Nene. She is shown as an optimist, but an ignorant one. She's a pollyanna, if you will, and she has no knowledge or understanding (or imagination) of another way life. She can only fathom her current life & what people "should be like." She is either less intelligent or more ignorant, or both, compared to her fiancee.

I wanted to discuss this portrayal with my students, but worried that the concept may be a bit complex for them.

I was struggling with this as I circled the classroom, checking in on the groups discussing their questions.

One group asked me: "How a flat character could be seen as a stereotype? And Stereotype: what did this mean?"

And as I was trying to explain it, I used the example of the female and how she was portrayed as less intelligent/less worldly than her male counterpart. And how this could be seen as a stereotype.

I hesitated as I explained this...worried that some of the students would not get it. (Though please note: I did use simpler language.)

One student's face brightened and she exclaimed: "Oh, like in the workshop you talked about at the international seminar!"

I was impressed. And I am often not impressed by students at this level. I mean I am often pleased with my students--with their work, their effort, and their progress, but I am not often impressed to this degree.

The workshop she was referring to was one that I gave in November at our University's International Seminar & on how using Wayne Booth's coined term of the "unreliable narrator" can help promote critical thinking in literature classes.

Now the reason I was to amazed by this student was because she had to:
1-understand what I was talking about in my workshop
2-still remember what I talked about from November
3-be able to apply it to this class/her future understanding of literature.

"Atta girl" moment?

Definitely!

Praise God. So much more encouraging than a plethora of A's!

*Disclaimer about my previous post

2012-01-19T10:55:00.000+07:00

I am not insinuating that the "blaming the victim" mentality only happens in Indonesia.

On the contrary, I have heard it happening *enough* in America too. And in other places all throughout the world too.

It always riles me up. Regardless.

And my blog is my opportunity to vent and to process.

Just wanted to assure readers: I do not believe and am not trying to insinuate that this issue is strictly an Indonesia one.

Because that is: SO NOT true.

Rape: The issue of double victimization

2012-01-18T18:35:00.002+07:00

In English we call it "blaming the victim."

It's the phrase we use when society, leaders/politicians, men OR women blame a victim for being raped.

It's something that I just can't stomach. It truly makes me feel nauseous with anger and rage and disgust.

At those points I need to take a step back and consider the reasons why these people are making the claims that they are.

Why?

Well not because I think that the statement(s) are excusable or pardonable, because I don't.

But I do think that we need to understand that some folks are simply ignorant. They don't understand the hurt and the injustice they are causing. They don't/cannot grasp the *real* awfulness of what they are saying.

I choose to believe this.

Because I can't even consider a world where people, who know the potential implications of this statement, would make such a remark.

To ponder that, makes me feel physically ill.

To place the blame on the victims IS in fact double-victimization.

You take a person who has survived such a brutally violent act--where her (or his) world has capsized...where he or she has been robbed of their sense of boundaries and personal self, their safety and their security. You've taken away the gift and personal choice that sexual intimacy can offer and have turned it into something dirty and invasive. And who knows if they can EVER get that freedom, that mindsight, the part of their life back?

So they are suffering a severe trauma, and then on top of that: they will have to worry about the potential scary side effects of sex (even unwanted sex): pregnancy, HIV/AIDS, other STDs. (Things we should only have to worry about when we consciously make our own adult, consensual decision.)

And then: time for the big blow:

oh, and by the way--

P.S. : It's actually your own fault.

NOT OKAY. EVER EVER EVER to say this, to believe this.

I don't care if she was wearing a short skirt or a low-cut shirt--

I don't care if she was wearing makeup--

I don't care if she was flirting--

I don't care if you've had sex before---

I don't care if you are in a relationship--

I don't care if you are married----

I don't care if the sex has happened before--

I don't care if it was promised--

I don't care if you were fooling around beforehand--

I don't care if she was drunk or under the influence--

I don't know care if she was alone--

I don't care if it was at night--

I don't care if it was in a deserted or dark place--

Now of course, people--especially women--should be concerned for their own personal safety.

We (should NOT have to) but we do need to consider certain factors: like "how safe" an area is, how (un)trustworthy certain people are, the potential effects of consuming drugs & alcohol--in short, we need to minimalize potential risk factors.

The above, however, is NOT synonymous with the situation being "their fault."

As much as I think that this mentality of blaming the victim is grossly insulting and inhumanely dispresectful to the victims/survivors of rape and assault---

The real kicker?

I think it's a real blow to men too.

I don't think just women (especially strong women and feminists) should be irate about these perpetuated statements.

But I think that men should be deeply insulted too.

Especially on behalf of all of the good, decent ones out there.

The ones who cannot even fathom raping or assaulting and forcing themselves on an innocent victim.

Because the unstated/but insinuation in blaming the victim is this:

1-The victim (more often than not: the woman) has to know better and do something to prevent this.
*Because*
2-Because the men just can't help it.

Seriously!?!?!

Why do we grant men (the attackers/the rapists (usually the men) a "get out of jail free" card?

Why are suddenly men not asked to take responsibility for themselves when we ask human beings to do this in nearly every other area of their life (namely: every other crime one may commit. Aka: we don't blame a victim who was robbed of money, because he/she carried money.)

Men--*decent men*--do you even WANT this "get out of jail free card?"

Because if you accept it then you are basically conceding: I am animalistic and I have no self control--I can't help myself.

You are admitting to the same animal instincts that take over dogs and monkeys? Those who can't stop themselves from going at it either.

Flattering?

Not so much.

This scenario reminds me of Frederick Douglass' idea of slavery: how he very well-articulated and defended why the situation was so harmful for African-Americans AND Caucasians alike. Harmful and insulting.

I can't help but see a parallel here.

In short:

My opinion is the whole message is: Loathesome. Odious. Disgusting.

But, it is also:

Harmful: for not just women and not just survivors of rape: but for an entire society & the message this sends about humankind.

our tropical Christmas & New Years

2012-01-07T12:59:00.001+07:00

Because the holidays are hard for us here, being so far away from family, friends & familiar culture, we figured we might as well embrace the whole tropical culture!

Like last year, we went to Gili Air (a little tiny island off the north coast of Lombok island--the island to the east of Bali) for vacation.

To avoid a lengthy post, just wanted to share the highlights:

--snorkeling for the first time ever.
It was truly amazing. All of the tropical fish--the vivid colors & interesting shapes of all the fish. (I told people I "found Nemo" and also the rainbow fish from the popular children's book in America). We also saw a sea urchin, got "attached" to a crab, and stung by tiny jellyfish. Those aside, we were thrilled with the experience--I felt like I was swimming in a zoo aquarium. But I was so happy to be in their natural environment, rather than seeing them in a man-made cage.

--swimming in the ocean. (Again: sans the pricks of jellyfish)

--sunsets over the ocean. Breathtakingly gorgeous.

--sitting on the beach, watching the waves & the hills & mountains of Lombok in the distance.

--searching for & adding shells to our collection.

--getting the tannest I've ever been (though to give a more accurate visual: this equaled a mass of unevenly dispersed freckles/faded sunburns)
(One of the funniest moments was when we came back and a student of mine asked me why I hadn't gotten tan/brown on vacation. And I said: "I did." This IS my tan." Very true.)

--pleasure reading a lot..luxurious! I read 4 1/2 books. :) Reading in a hammock--even better!

--eating lots o Western food: pizza, food loaded with cheese, various salads, mexican food, rich desserts, olive-oiled pasta--a bunch of western food we don't have or don't have often here.

--the greenness & cleanness & less people. Java is beautiful but it is very over-populated, which of course, makes it more crowded, dirty, polluted at points. Lombok was very green and felt cleaner. Subsequently, the air was good for my sinuses, which was a respite from my normal allergy irritations.

--seeing lotsa monkeys while taking the travel bus from Mataram (the city) to Bangsal (where we take the boat to Gili Air), just hanging out on the side of the road.

--being confident enough in the language now, our ability to travel independently and communicate & being more familiar with Lombok & Gili Air. When people tried to pressure us into buying from them or taking their (often very unreliable) transport, we were able to politely refuse. And take what the locals took--creating interesting memories, and saving money (not necessarily time). And building character, for sure.

--Brandon being asked if I was his child. (We chuckled; the taxi driver who asked us was astonished to learn that I'm actually the older one!)

--ending up staying in a new bungalow place because our first choice (the one we stayed at last year) was filled up because of the holiday season.
This was a bit "rustic." We ended up with these kiddo-Spiderman & Minnie Mouse towels that we brought to the beach. The reality kept us laughing. The place was 17 dollars a night though; and this was during the high holiday season. True to our priorities, we chose to spend the money we saved on accommodations on food/going out to eat. (wood-fired pizza, grilled kebabs--yum)
This place was also fun because it was next to a pasture with goats (3 adorable kids), cows & calves, and chickens. It was a very interesting juxtaposition for me...to see the livestock among the coconut trees, since it's not an image that naturally goes together for me. Oh, and to see a chicken fly up and perch himself in a tree.

--seeing this large lizard-like creation. I don't know the name in English and of course I've forgotten the word in Indonesian. It was larger than any iguana I've ever seen. It looked like a mini-Komodo dragon. But seeing out of the corner of my eye was a bit jarring, because it was so large. And then seeing said creature climb a coconut tree halfway up. Astonishing. I didn't know they had the capability.

We had a lovely time. But truly one of the other highlights was:

--coming home.
Being away for a week and a half helped to refresh & re-energize us, but it was also great to return feeling (more) ready to dive into a new semester after a substantially shorter mid-year break.
I also really missed our cats. And judging from their incessant meowing & purring, demands of attention, and that we haven't been able to sit down with ending up with several of them in our laps this week---I think they missed us too.

Happy 2012 (wow-yikes) to everyone!
God bless.

the holiday season...

2011-12-10T20:24:00.001+07:00

It's always hard being away from home for the holidays.

Being on the other side of the world for the holidays--I'm not gonna lie--it can be depressing. Actually, to remove all the sugar-y coat, it just sucks sometimes.

Now, that being said, please know that we have had some really nice holiday celebrations here. We always have an annual Thanksgiving dinner with our MCC folks & we have an annual MCC Christmas dinner, cookie-decorating party & silly gift exchange.

Brandon & I also have attended the Pancasila (town square) celebration on Christmas that starts at 4am. It is a dreadfully early time to be awake (in my opinion) but the experience was priceless--so many Christians excited to welcome the holiday and get an early start on celebrating it.

But--these things have only made it minimally more bearable.

I miss so many things about the holidays. I miss:

--the incessant Christmas music (I never was one of them who was sick of the songs or disgusted with how early the stores started playing them)

--the snow (the ONLY time of the year I miss it!)

--the festivities. Even if I don't partake in them, I miss knowing that they're happening: sleigh rides, caroling, Santa visits, Christmas parties and festivals, church events, etc.

--the cookies and treats: both the homemade ones and all of the Christmas-themed goodies sold this time of year. Andes mints and Christmas-colored M & M's and Candy Canes and peppermint-flavored coffees and ice cream.

--the Christmas movies shown on tv.

--egg nog. Even though I hate it. I like that it's...there. That it's available.

--the general mood of good cheer. The happiness and kindness and smiles that I see more of.

It's also a hard fact to face up to/'fess up to--that the times' there are a'changin'. And even if we were at home this Christmas would be different and it would be hard.

This would be the first Christmas with my Grandma Elaine gone. And, to quote my mom, she really "made" Christmas.

Walking into her house on Christmas eve was like getting enveloped a warm, comforting hug when you needed it most. The smells of her wonderful homecooked meals & the general earth-y smell of her house were the first to greet you, along with the flood of warmth from her woodstove. And then you'd shake off your shoes (that were of course caked on with snow) in the entryway/mudroom, and remove them.

Next, you'd be greeted with either her or Grandpa's booming voice: "Helloooooo, Merrrrrrrry Christmas!" And then one or the other or both of them would come over and embrace you.

You'd make your way through her house greeting people: always such an eclectic mix of folks (some I knew, others I had no idea, but all were welcome at Grandma's for Christmas eve dinner).

Her house would be lit up with Christmas decorations and her beautifully lit and decorated tree. There would be soft candles glowing all around and the platters of her delicious, homemade Christmas cookies and other trays of food would be laid out for continuous munching, so that of course you'd be stuffed long before dinner was served.

She really made Christmas. And it will never ever be the same.

The first year that my Grandma Donelson died I also felt the same way. I thought I was over crying and intensely grieving for her (since she had died in July and she was 91, so she did live a good long life). But--

I was struck by how hard the holiday was without her. We always celebrated Christmas day with her. And without her...it was incomplete. And sad.

I remember Christmas Eve 2006, the same year that she died, just laying in bed and bawling. It was just wrong. Without her.

I can't help but think that it would be the same if I were in the US this year.

Not being there, in some ways will be easier, but it still hurts. And it makes me wonder if I'll just have to deal with the grieving and processing at some other point, when my other family members have moved on and adjusted in ways that I can't in being so far away from home.

(At points like this I feel like I'm stuck in this weird hiatus/time-warp/suspended animation.)

For as much as I knew that things would change during the 3 or 4 years when we lived out of the country, I am quite shocked by how much.

I guess though as much as you may know something deep within yourself, how can you anticipate it? How can you really fathom change of such magnitude? Maybe it's a defense mechanism not to be able to comprehend it, because it's too much to take in.

But it hit me today as I reflecting on how...I'll never have another "normal" of Christmas of the kind that I was used to & enjoyed growing up.

Growing up it always my family's tradition to:
-go to Grandma Elaine's on Christmas eve for dinner
-go to Grandma Donelson's on Christmas day
-go to my aunt's later in the day on Christmas day

And now my aunt is in the process of trying to sell her house, so it's a very real possibility that by the time when we move back, she won't be there anymore.

All of the change. It's just hard to mentally process.

It's starting to make sense why my mom advised me a few years ago, after Brandon and I had been married for a few years, to "make your own traditions."

Perhaps she was trying to prepare me for the impending changes and upheaval of my Christmas traditions and norms. (Because she knows I don't do well with change--which I know sounds a bit ridiculous for the person who decided to move to the other side of the world, but it's true.)

It's just hard to be away for Christmas. Since Indonesia is a predominantly Muslim country and because Christmas isn't *quite* so commercial here as it is in the US (though believe me, this isn't necessarily a bad thing), it just doesn't *feel* like Christmas.

And just for the record: yes, I am aware of how whiny and selfish this post is. I do realize that the whole point of Christ's birth isn't about ME & my presents & traditions & how much I enjoy it...it is about LOVE. Love through Christ's birth & life & death & all that represented, and being together with loved ones, but the bottom line is I'm not with them. And it's hard.

And for better or for worse--I didn't grow up in a church-going family. And so my Christmas traditions involve stuff or things we did or had rather than having any religious significance.

I feel like I should end this post with some greater insight or thanksgiving (because I realize that I am truly very blessed and what I'm complaining about isn't the end of the world or life & death), but the truth is, as much as I know I should have greater perspective, the bottom line is--this time of the year is just hard to be a missionary or international Christian service worker.

And this time of the year, while it makes me happy. It also makes me sadder than normal. Definitely full of bittersweet-ness.

Irregardless: I wish you all a Merry Christmas & a Happy New Year. May God bless you and be with you all now and into the new year.

Danielle's first sermon ever

2011-12-04T22:07:00.000+07:00

I was asked to give a sermon for an English service tomorrow. Now, I have never written a sermon before. Tomorrow will be my first one. First one. Ever.

I thought I'd post my thoughts on the following topic:

Sermon: “God’s love never fails”
December 5, 2011

Good afternoon. I must confess to you all that this is the first sermon/khotbah that I have ever given. Very first ever, ever, ever. I am very happy to be here, but as I was reflecting on this being my first time ever—I got a bit nervous. I thought—am I truly capable to be doing this?

What if I am not clear? What if I don’t give a good message? What if I fail? What if I, I, I----my thoughts were a whirl of me, me, me---

But then, thankfully, before my anxiousness took over entirely, God intervened—by way of the Holy Spirit. With his loving reassurance, He reminded me of something I all-too-often forget.
He quietly, gently, lovingly reminded me: “Danielle, relax. This is not about you.”

And it’s not. Today is not (or at least it should not) be about me & how wonderful or how terrible I do with my first ever sermon.

This talk is meant to focus on God.

Me—standing before you all; I am merely offering myself as an instrument to be used.
That said, let’s turn our attention to our topic of today:

“God’s love never fails.”

I think that as cliché/as common of an expression as that is, it is difficult sometimes for us to understand this idea: that God’s love can never and will never fail. Because while we may agree with this in theory, to really wrap our minds around it, that is more difficult.

Why? Well, because how we understand & relate to this idea of love, is often based on human standards, which are oh-so-limited, so full of failures and shortcomings. Now, it is true that we do love each other, we try—to love: our family, our friends, our spouses, our boyfriends/girlfriends, our neighbors…and they do love us, or try to love us, but the problem is:

We are all faulted; we are weak; we sin. We hurt each other. And the selfish people that we are, we put ourselves first, before others. Too often we allow our own selfish desires to interfere with our love for one another.

Now, you all may be wondering—why is she talking so much about failure and human limitations? It all sounds very negative and pessimistic. And you may be disappointed because you thought that the theme of today’s sermon (that God’s love never fails) sounded more happy and positive than what this sermon feels like.

Also at this point in the semester, many of you students who are very busy with tasks, and you could probably appreciate some encouragement and some optimism rather than all this pessimistic, dark, depressing talk of failure. You may be thinking I think and worry enough about failing (maybe in a test or a class); Maybe you think you don’t need to hear about failure
here too.

But, contrary to how it may seem, I am not trying to depress you, to make you all feel small, to bring you down, and to make you feel like failures.

But—I’m just trying to help us all (myself included) re-focus our attention on what is truly important. To refocus our attention on God. On His love. His perfect love, shown to us through the sending of his son Jesus Christ.

Because in refocusing our attention on God & His way of loving, I think it’s important to realize how God’s love is so very different than any other kind of love we have ever experienced. His love is different than any other kind of love that we will ever experience, that we can ever experience. His perfect love—is difficult for people to comprehend.
The type of love is called Agape: the kind of love that God gives us: it’s a kind of selfless, other-oriented, not requiring or expecting anything in return, endlessly forgiving—kind of love.
What proof do we have of God’s love? How do we know of His love for us?

We can look at the gift He gave us of His son: Jesus Christ. We, as Christians, know the reason why we need Christ, a savior who sacrificed Himself for us, and who died for our sins. But the Bible also tells us that God’s love played a role in why He sent Jesus for us. The Bible tells us that: “For God so loved the world that we gave His only begotten son that whoever believes in Him will not die but have eternal life.”

Christ’s coming wasn’t only because we needed Him, even though it’s true that we did need him. We still do. But another very important reason why Jesus was sent to us is because God loves us.
Now, God knows we’re all sinners and we’re incapable of loving others as we love ourselves. We are incapable of loving in that agape way that God does.

Yet--God was very clear in His instructions that we love one another. We, as Christians, are commanded to love one another: And not just our friends and our neighbors, people who are easier to love, but we’re supposed to love our enemies too (which can be harder. Sometimes a lot harder). We’re told to love others as we love ourselves. We are told to love because love comes from God.

Jesus also emphasized how important love was. Before He was crucified He told his disciples: “men will know you are my disciples because you love one another.” If we apply this idea, we as Christians and as followers of Christ, can understand that we are to be so defined by love that we will be known for our love, as stated in a popular hymn “They will know we are Christians by our love.”

In fact, the Bible mentions this little word “love” A LOT. In fact, I did a little internet research last night and my friend google.com told me that the Bible uses the word “love” literally hundreds of times.

So we can understand that LOVE is something that God wanted emphasized a lot. He thought “love” was pretty important.

Even though He knew we—as humans and as sinners, we’d fail to measure up to the kind of Love He wanted us to have for one another, the kind of love He was for us, He still wanted us to live our lives, by loving one another.

Because God stressed love so much, I think it’s important that we try to understand as much as we can about what God means by “love.”

So--To further understand the kind of love that we are meant to have for one another, let’s turn to one of my favorite Bible verses: 1 Corinthians 13. This verse was read at Brandon & my wedding, because as we started our lives together, I wanted to remember the kind of love that God wants us to have for another.

In this verse God reminds us of what love is and what love is not.
We know from this verse that love is: patient, kind, rejoices in the truth. Love always protects, trust, hopes, and perseveres.

We can also learn from this verse that love is not; it is not envious, boastful, proud, self-seeking, easily angered, keeps no record of wrongs, delights in evil.
This verse goes on to tell us that love, never fails and it is the greatest of the other virtues. We are also told that regardless of whatever else we have in our lives, if we have not love than we don’t have anything. Anything. ANYTHING: it’s a big statement.
But that’s how important love is.

I love this verse in Corinthians; this explanation of love. I appreciate how the Bible takes the time to explain love: to differentiate what true, genuine love is.
What else can we understand from the Bible about love?

We can look at Jesus’ life: not only through His birth and through His death, but throughout His life, Jesus lived out His love. He exemplified (lived out the example) of God’s love.
There is an English expression: actions speak louder than words, which means that you can “say” something but unless your actions also match your words, the words don’t have meaning, value or significance.

I believe that Jesus understood this: He cared for people & loved them; He helped them fulfill their daily needs; He helped them get what they needed to survive. Even though He, as God, had a more holistic perspective of how limited our time in this world is; but He still knew that people needed to be taken care of in this life. And I believe Jesus knew that the way to reach people and touch them was through love, not only through just words but through actions--which is why He lived His life loving people, living with them, taking care of them: being a humanitarian.

We can also understand from Jesus’ life that He loved people; that despite knowing that some of these people would not choose Him & would turn away from Him, He still loved them; He still had relationships with them, cared about them and took care of them.
May we all aspire to have the kind of love for others as Jesus had for all people. I think that’s what it means to be a Christian.

May it be our prayer today that during this Advent season, into the Christmas season and through into the New Year that we seek to love (really love) one another—the kind of love that Corinthians tells us about. May we love our friends, neighbors as well as our enemies. May we also seek to serve, to take care of one another. May our words not stand by themselves--alone, but may they match our actions; may we look to Christ’s example and live out His example in our lives while we study and teach; may we rely on the Holy Spirit’s guidance to love one another with the true, pure, selfless kind of love that comes from God. In short, as the Bible commands us, may “everything” that we do, we do in love.

Because while we do not/cannot see God now, the Bible reminds us that “if we love one another, God lives in us and His love is made complete in us.”

Lastly, may we remember that while we will fail—in life, in love; we can take heart/bersemangat: that God’s love never fails. He will never fail to love us, He will never fail to forgive those who are repentant. We are never out of His grasp. He is among us and He is within us; He loves you more than you can possibly comprehend. And while much of life is unpredictable and tumultuous, this is one thing that you can rest in: God’s unfailing, abounding love for you.
Amen.

a very awkward, sobering moment

2011-12-02T17:48:00.001+07:00

I teach Public speaking this semester. We finished up their Argumentative Speeches in class this week.

Two students' topic was prostitution. One student gave a very critically-thought out perspective that "all prostitutes are not bad people." And she complicated the issue, explaining economic factors and survival needs that lead people in such line of work.

At the end of her speech, I asked her why she had an interest in this topic: I thought perhaps she'd seen a movie or heard a news story that had prompted her.

Her face turned red and she began to cry, explaining that the person in her speech who had had to prostitute herself out to pay for medical expenses was a friend of hers from high school.

I felt like a grade A jerk.

It was several minutes before she could speak. (I told her "never mind," but she continued to try and compose herself enough to be able to answer my question.)

A silent gasp erupted from our class upon hearing that this prostitute was in fact a only teenager. And a friend of this girls, a friend who she was powerless to help.

Later in the day I learned of another friend who's mother had had to prostitute herself to have enough money for her kids to eat and to be able to attend school, after she was abandoned by her husband.

I..struggle to know what else to write.

Because really? How can you put into words the awful reality of needing to sell your body to pay for children to eat? To save a relative's life?

I will only say this: as much as Americans gripe about the cost of medical care and high taxes in the US (and I am certainly no exception!), at least we are not denied care. We may end up paying a very high amount of money for a very long time afterwards, but at least we are all entitled to the same quality of care. At least there's a guarantee that kids can attend K-12 without high entrance fees. (Without prostitution?)

I was humbled. Sobered.

And I just feel overwhelmed...somewhere deep inside me, maybe my heart, maybe my soul, there's a deep, penetrating ache.

I'm glad God granted me the moment of graceful clarity the other day, because after this, I have to say--teaching drama and literature and writing just doesn't feel quite the pressing need anymore.

in a praise of Thanksgiving...

2011-12-01T12:12:00.001+07:00

For those of you who may not know, before Brandon and I were married we committed to do some "mission" (oh, how I loathe the word's connotations). We wanted to serve people in the name of Christ. We wanted to show our faith and Christ's love by loving and serving others. (Without agenda; because we are free to love without agenda; it is not "up to us" to convert. That's God's job. He doesn't need us. Our job is to love and serve, as Christ did through His life.)

Our commitment to do this was made at the end of 2003, before we got married. This was before we actually got engaged. The timeline continued as follows:

July 2004: engaged.

July 2005: married.

September 2009: move to Indonesia to begin this "missionary" work

6 years difference. Before we actually got down to it.

I always felt rather embarrassed about this major time gap.

I felt like this was yet another one of the many ways I had failed to measure up in my faith, as a follower of Christ, and in living up to my promise to God.

But, God is patient. God is good. God sees all and He has a plan. And His timeline is perfect and not restricted by our mortal, human restraints, expectations, mindsets.

In hindsight, though I never would have been able to recognize this at the time, I see that I was learning and growing and experiencing so that I could do what I'm doing here.

I see that I needed to do and to learn other stuff first before I could be of maximum service here.

Praise be to God that He has a much grander perspective than I.

I was thinking about this the other day as I was riding home from campus. I was biking along, taking in all the beautiful greenery that is so much more vibrant since the rainy season has begun and it just...became so obviously clear.

Please note: These divine moments don't often happen for me.

Rather, I'm the neurotic worrier so is always obsessing that I'm not doing what I should be doing--at the precise moment I should be doing it. I, admittedly, waste so much of my time focused on what I "should" be doing that I forget to be present. And I don't think that's Godly (as in from God), at all. I think that that's how the Devil keeps us preoccupied. (You may believe it's how the devil within us keeps us preoccupied. I believe both.)

So this clear moment of utter presence: bliss. A true gift from God.

And this moment was immediately followed by a sentiment of just...profound amazement. Where I knew that I am where I am supposed to be right now. I am doing I should be doing right now.

That feeling...of peace and relief and release from stress and anxiety was grace.

And while, sadly, the feeling didn't last because I'm faulted and human. And of course I retreated into my "aduh/oh dear: what I should be doing??" mentality, I did have a momentary insight:

If given freedom and ability to craft my own future and destiny, I couldn't have planned it better.

I am doing exactly what I wanted to do/requested from God: to use my education and experiences and abilities to help and serve others.

I am not a doctor or a counselor or a pastor. I cannot help people with those crucial needs.

But I can teach and I can form relationships by asking questions about culture because I care and I'm naturally inquisitive. And I can love. Learning from Christ's example and forgiveness and from the Holy Spirit, I can love.

I can do, only what I can do.

But that's okay.

I'm here--right where God wants me.

Praise be to God.
Amen.

in a rut...

2011-11-15T09:15:00.000+07:00

Apparently I am in a blogging rut. Usually I get an inspiration for a topic to write about. Not daily or sometimes even weekly, but often enough.

Lately though, it seems that I have a block. That I'm in a creative rut. Or perhaps I'm just not being observant and introspective and self-reflective enough lately.

Part of it may be that it is that "insane time" of the semester. When things start to come due and I'm staring at mountains of grading and stacks of To-Do-Lists.

Contrary to what it seems, this blog's topic will not be all about how I can't write a blog. Rather, it will be about my vacillation of feelings of late.

I am truly happy where we are now. I enjoy the culture here; I love teaching; I love learning new things all the time about the language and culture and lifestyle here; I love my students; I love that I have an office and opportunities for diversity in my teaching schedule; I adore that I can develop my own courses and that I am not just "allowed" but encouraged to participate in faculty meetings and events. (Some of the latter things run contrary to life as an adjunct in America, devastatingly enough.)

The work is meaningful. I feel that I can really make a difference. Arguably, teachers everywhere can make a difference & they do.

Of course. I won't dispute that. I agree wholeheartedly.

I will only say this: the opportunities are greater here. Selfish and altruistic opportunities alike.

It is an exciting time to be teaching in Indonesia. There is a shift that is happening from a very traditional method of education (one where you only absorb what the teacher-says, rote-memorization, lecture, then regurgitation sort of method) to a more progressive-student centered method. (Granted, the old way still exists, but there is a recognition of greater diversity among pedagogy, which is key.) This change is a great & I am excited to be a part of it, even in my own little small way.

Because of that I feel like I can, I am, really making a difference in ways that I wouldn't be able to quite so much (or, at the very least--in the same way as I could) in the US.

That is rewarding. It is exciting. It invigorates me and makes me feel very passionate and enthusiastic about living and working here, in ways that I did not always feel in the US.

So then, where does the vacillation part come in?

Well, I'm a nerd. I am. I'm a school nerd. I love to be in school and learn. And I miss it. I really do--I miss it terribly.

And sometimes I almost feel an ache or longing deep inside of me when I think about how much I want to be back in school. (I know that some of you will think me sick. That's okay. I get how this could seem like an illness for some.)

Both Brandon & I are anxious and excited and eagerly awaiting going back to grad school for our doctorates. Sometimes I just miss learning so much. I miss being in the classroom and having to write papers and to be assigned readings and assignments...(okay, I know I'm sounding incredibly masochistic right now!)

Arguably, you can learn as a teacher. Absolutely. And I do. In a myriad of ways. I am learning through doing and I am delighted with that. I am especially happy when I teach classes that force me to have to "do my own homework" if you will. Classes like--Literary theory. A subject that is so complex that I really need to do my own thorough reading and preparation before the class so that I can feel comfortable in conveying the complicated info to my students.

A teacher, well--in my opinion, a good and serious teacher, will always seek to better him or herself at his or her profession.

But a dedicated teacher to his/her students, also makes time for his/her students. (Again--my own humble opinion)

I wholeheartedly believe in my above notions of "what makes a good teacher" or (at least) "the kind of teacher I strive to be." But these beliefs & practices of mine do not come without a cost--a cost of my own reading and learning and growing--either for pleasure from a novel, or from reviewing a textbook I read (but am forgetting) from grad school, or from journal articles from EBSCO or from attending or presenting at conferences.

I miss those. And my heart aches when I think about them. Those missed opportunities. Or that (to borrow a phrase from Langston Hughes) "deferred dream" of mine.

Hence: the vacillation. I am so insanely happy here. Not even just content but there are so many points when I silently and happily than God for giving us this opportunity. Because it's such a symbiotic experience to help others grow and develop and for ourselves to grow and develop.

And yet. (ahh yes, that ever-annoying, grating on my nerves "but") Yet--

I am happy in so many different kinds of learning and educational experiences. And I miss the full-fledged student role, not just the partial, sometimes student role.

And because my emotions are so strong from both sides, I do feel at points on an emotional yo-yo if you will. Or a seesaw of intense feelings.

But--in my moments of Zen (which I refer to as moments of God's divine presence in my heart & soul), I achieve a sense of utter calm and Divine peace.

The peace is because I have trust and love and assurance from God that I am right where I am meant to be right now. The other time for other opportunities and experiences will come. (In fact, it will come fast--I can feel the whooosh of the train as it rapidly approaches--which is how I feel lately about how fast time carries on.)

I know these moments are from God. Because when I am happy about where I am, it is usually because I have gotten so absorbed in what I am doing that I don't think about the other side (what I also want to be doing but am not, because I can't be doing two things at once). I forget about my angst.

But these moments of Godly clarity, I am not forgetting or un-cognizant of the other side of the spectrum. Rather, (not to sound too hokey but) light is shown on the situation. And I don't have to be in denial or in a temporary state of absorption and forgetfulness. Instead I can allow God's love and being and comfort and guidance and amazing calm to flood over me and assure me I am right where I am supposed to be at this very moment.

The rest? Well, at those moments of living absolutely in the present, the "other things" somehow aren't important anymore. They cease to have their urgency. I cease the anxiety.

Such a gift of living in the present.

I know that some brilliant ones have already stumbled on this truth of the present truth. Eckhart Tolle comes to mind. But I know that there have been others who have hinted at his important claim: the present is all that matters. And yet, we spend so much time either obsessing about the future or about the past that we miss the here and now.

But for me, it's God. Because--the calm and peace and love that flows with it. Living in the present time is a great way to live, but for me that doesn't explain the other waves of assurance and peace that come with it.

Presence, in so many ways, is a gift from God.

And my battle is the daily quest to remember that. So that I can enjoy God's love, his presence/presents. (hokey again, I know)

missing out...

2011-10-28T21:08:00.000+07:00

Making a 4 year commitment to serve w/MCC means that you will miss things (obviously); important events that happen with friends and family.

I know this. Of course. Duh. How could you not?

(In order to "not know this," you'd have to mentally block out reality and tormenting thoughts, which I admit to doing sometimes. At some points consciously, at others unconsciously. I think it's a natural defense mechanism of our minds. It's how I (we: human beings) go on, despite pain and missing people. I think this is how so many people deal with grief, the death of loved ones. We have a gift of a loss of memory...at least of such sharp, vivid memories. It's so ironic; how often do you hear in movies or tv, read in books, feel yourself: "what happens if I forget so-and-so (recently departed friend)." And yet, that ability to forget is how we can move on. If not, if the memories remained equally as sharp, it would be so much more difficult to continue on with our lives.)

Yet, it's one of those things that however much you know in your head, experiencing it and feeling the painful pangs deep inside of me, is a completely different scenario.

What's up, you ask. (get on with it already)

My best friend is getting married in May. This friend & I have been best friends since we were 7. We've had some rough spots and some growing (apart) pains over the years, but she is still one of my closest friends.

She was the maid of honor in my wedding. And this spring she is getting married. And I will be here...in Indonesia, trying to process/sort out my feelings, and absorb the fact that so much is happening without me present.

I am trying to remain supportive and kind and loving, because this is *her* today; it's really NOT about me. And yet, the confession is, I can't seem to get past the pouty/mopey me that wants to be there.

The cost of flying home is certainly a consideration. If we had ended up serving in Eastern Europe this might not be such an issue, but we are truly on the other side of the world. (It takes around 40 hours to get home). And that means the cost of traveling home is much, much higher. (1600 is around the cheapest I've heard of, if you're lucky).

But also, the date will be at a time when we are not yet finished with our academic semester. In fact, I am fairly confident the date will fall on the worst possible time for me to take off and head home. (End of the semester = craziness for students & lecturers).

It just doesn't seem feasible.

This isn't the first time something so monumental has happened while we're here...something that tore me up inside not to be home for. (The other one: a dear friend/mentor/former director/father figure passed away unexpectedly in January of this year, which was the other extremely hard experience not to be able to go home for.)

So, at least this is a happy occasion, right?

Right.

(Written/thought not convincingly at all)

Part of me is thinking: suck it up. Deal with it. This is what you signed up for. And it could be so much worse. Some of our team members have not made it home in order to say good-bye to dying parents. Surely that is something more significantly worth moaning about.

I know it could be oodles worse. Really I do. I will not claim otherwise.

And yet, that knowledge doesn't really do anything to quiet the gnawing sadness in my heart. (It's a match of mind vs. heart, where my heart definitely wins out.)

Every time I receive an e-mail from her updating me on the latest plans for the wedding, I just let out an inward sigh. And I hurt.

At times like this, I am just reminded: All of the amazing experiences we're having now do come with a price (Monetary price paid by MCC, aside):

The price is missing out...it's a loss of time with loved ones...time with family and friends and parents and grandparents, time that we will never get back.

And however much our self-centered selves don't allow us to think about it/process it, life still continues on without us in the US. (To confess though: sometimes it feels like in living here we're stuck in this space/time continuum...a void where time does not move on for "them" out there, but it does for us. Our experience here seems like a sub-reality, separate from our " real lives." It's probably in line with that the older I get, the more incredulous I get about how fast time goes. As a child, I was terribly annoyed to hear adults marvel at how fast time went and that they could not remember--without seriously thinking about it--how old they were. Now--my, the tables have turned!)

But--then we absorbs reality...or rather, it gobbles us up. Something happens and I am struck by the overwhelming blow that: Our friends and family are growing and changing; they're aging and experiencing, just like we are here.

Growing pains: they're are not easy.

"Helping 'our own' first"

2011-10-14T21:17:00.002+07:00

I have a really hard time when I hear Americans say something along the lines of:

"I don't know why we send money and help overseas? We should help our own before we send money or offer to assistance to those in other countries. There are starving and suffering people here too."

Upon hearing this, I cringe. I (quite literally) bite my tongue and begin gnawing violently on my lips. As a self-calming technique...While trying not to retort with something bitter and mean-spirited.

(Especially when those who are telling me this are Christians):

"Well, that is similar to what Christ had to say, isn't it?"

I'm not proud of this and I know that it indicates how un-Christ-like I am/can be. I am sad by that: that I don't react with love and kindness; that I don't immediately "forgive them, Father for they know what they say."

Now, before I begin: let me just say, I do of course advocate for helping Americans or people residing in America. Obviously.

And I do not deny that there are people who are starving and suffering in the US. They deserve help. We should help them.

But, but:

I don't think that it should necessarily come at the expense of helping other suffering in other countries.

(Nor do I think that the two are always mutually exclusive, which the above statement seems to imply or suggest. And that's a fallacy.)

And I know, I've said it before, but I'll say it again: poverty is an EXTREMELY subjective, relative term. The term "poverty" connotes different things to different people, depending on their countries of origins, experiences, education, etc..

I know people who are "poor" in the United States who would be considered "rich" here in Indonesia. And I believe there are Indonesian people who are considered "poor" here but who would be regarded as "rich" (at least "richer") in other places in the world.

Subjective, Relative terms.

And: another fallacy in the above statement (from fellow Americans) is that poverty is always comparable. And moreso, that situations and resources available to assist those who are "poor" are entirely comparable.

And that is just SO.NOT.TRUE.

Let's consider, for a moment, options available for "poor" families with kiddos in the United States:

-welfare
-tax breaks
-WIC
-a patient will always receive the best health care possible, regardless of a patient's ability to pay.
-children's hospitals provide care for children even if parents can't pay now or will not be able to pay for the care later.
-medical care help: forgiveness with bills and other medical debt, under special circumstances
-health clinics and dental clinics for low income patients
-energy assistance during the winter (for some states)
-prescription benefit medical cards (for certain states) for low income patients
-non-employment benefits
-some schools have free or discounted meals for students during school (Breakfasts and/or lunches)
-scholarships and government aid for low-income students who wish to further their education
And more that I'm forgetting.

(And I know this isn't a complete or set list. Especially with funding being cut, I know these programs are changing, but many still exist. And the others certainly have existed.)

Now, let's consider the resources available for Indonesians:

Puskesmas:

--It is a clinic where you can go if you have a medical problem and you will not be charged a high fee. It was made available for poor folks. It sounds ideal; and it is a good thing. But the problem is that these clinics are limited in their resources and staff and the services they can offer. In other words, you can go there and get antibiotics and have a tooth pulled and maybe receive some other basic meds. But, you don't want to go there if you have a broken arm or if you're having a heart attack, etc. They are not equipped to handle such conditions. In fact, many hospitals are not equipped to handle such conditions. Because, as it was described to us when we moved here, "this is the hospital where you go if you need an IV. This is not a broken bone hospital." So certainly the clinics are not capable to handle such problems if the hospitals themselves struggle to.

Help to buy Rice:
--I've heard that there rice is provided for those (or 'some') who can't afford to buy this staple ingredient. I have heard from Indonesian friends that this rice is usually a low quality rice that can be dirty or smelly, that will quickly become rotten if not eaten within a day. I have also heard that because most people here in Central Java eat rice 3x day, and that the amount provided is usually not enough.

These are the two options of assistance available here. (I've heard of)

I have also heard of some assistance offered to poorer folks who have to go to the hospital and can't afford to pay the bills.

However, I've heard conflicting responses on the above. Because I have heard that while programs exist, they are not always available to all. (It sounds like the needs are just too great and the monetary assistance available too limited). And perhaps as a result, hospitals will refuse care for those who can't pay--even if those in need of care happen to be emergency cases, or life & death cases, of: children or babies, elderly or crippled or poor. (Refusals also happen it there is a previous outstanding bill.) Exceptions or special circumstances do not apply. (Some of my friends would argue that special exceptions rarely--if ever--apply.

What about if you're poor and have schooling costs? (Remember that parents have to pay for fees for their kids to go to school in Indonesia, and the cost only increases the older the students get. Oh, and this cost does not include monthly fees, uniform fees, book fees, transportation fees, etc.)

Parents borrow money.

And if they can't get the money?

Well, their kids don't go to school. I recently learned a child from a neighborhood near ours (around 7 years old, who I frequently meet) who has never gone to school. I met a teenager 1 1/2 years ago on a trip to Malang who was illiterate, who had never gone to school. Even if my very small corner of existence and the small number of people I've met here in Indonesia. And it's not just older folks.

And because the cost of school increases the older students get, there are drops outs. Not the same like we think about in the US. This happens with middle schoolers. And of course in increasing proportions--due to rising costs, high schoolers.

What about College? SUCH a luxury.

Let's take a bit of inventory: A laborer makes 30,000 rupiah a day. (=$3.50) A factory worker may make 600,000 a month. =$75.

Those jobs are considered moderate. Normal. Not the poorest of the poor.

Now, also consider: the cost of one child to enter into elementary school: 300-500,000 rupiah. For middle school: 1,000,000-1,500,000. For high school: 3-5 million rupiah. I heard recently 8 million for a private college first year's tuition. (The above costs also do not factor in uniforms, books, school supplies, transportation costs, which all are in addition.)

I never was very good at math, but you really don't have to be.

(Oh and in case you're wondering, while in the middle of worrying about schooling costs, what about food? Well, a kilo of the cheapest rice is 6000. This isn't enough to feed a family of four for a day. Remember it's a staple and usually eaten three times a day, and in heaps. That's before they've bought any other food with nutrition like eggs or beans or vegetables or oil for frying (seen as a necessity here) or luxury items like meat or fruit.)

All of this reality fills me with a deep, heavy sadness around my heart.

But then--

I think, you know, where we live in Indonesia, probably isn't even the worse off. Yes, there are some very poor people, it could probably be a lot worse. You could go to other parts of Indonesia. You could go a continent away.

And it could be worse.

After all, we don't walk around & have to face skeletal frames of human beings. We don't have to face those in agony, dying from AIDS. Or those dying of thirst because of a drought.

Poverty: negotiable? Comparable?

I think not.

Hollywood representations...

2011-10-06T21:44:00.002+07:00

I have often tried to explain to my students that Hollywood representations of America culture are not always accurate or realistic. In my opinion, rarely are Hollywood films good representations of (American) reality.

Yet, today one of my students showed me how Hollywood representations of Indonesia are limited as well...

(Not that I wouldn't have doubted its realism,, but I'd never thought much about it.)

Today a public speaking student gave her informative speech on how Indonesia is represented through Hollywood movies. She mentioned (of course) "Eat, Pray Love," "King Kong," Anacondas" and another that escapes me.

As I sat there and listened to her discuss how Indonesia was represented through these Hollywood movies, I felt very sad. And I felt very, very ashamed.

The topics of the movies were associated with jungles and monsters and scary snakes and tropical flowers. Of course, the jungle and allure of the tropics of Indonesia is wonderful and a unique part of the country's identity.

But, it is so, so much more.

And I have to wonder, are we--America, Hollywood--aware, do we ever explore that "so much, much more" part?

With all the richness of cultures and languages and people and customs of Indonesia, given its vastness and unique geography, given all the people, being the 4th more populous country in the world), it's got so much to share with the west, so much to educate America on...far beyond snakes and exotic flowers and Bali. Because while I love Bali & I did enjoy Eat, Pray, Love (the book; loathed the movie), it is not a very good representative voice for all of Indonesia.

(And yet ironically, I don't think there IS a single, good representative voice to be able to speak for "all of Indonesia." I know Java usually fills that role because it was the first modernized island & it's where the capital, Jakarta is. Java's got the power and some criticize certain attitudes for being "Java-centered." But overall, Indonesian cultures so unfathomably diverse across this huge country, that I wonder how you could unify Indonesia to be represented by "one.")

I digress...I can only say that after taking in her speech & pondering this, suddenly I felt very sad. And I felt even sadder at how happy and joking my students seemed to be about Indonesia's portrayal in Hollywood movies. I felt too guilty to join in the laughter. It just felt wrong to me, being an American & knowing how Indonesia is so often portrayed...

Some may say "it's just Hollywood." They go for the sensationalism & I don't deny that's true. Absolutely.

But--I also think the danger in reducing Indonesia to that alone is this: especially where developing countries (problematic term, I know, but it's better--in my opinion--than "3rd world country" or "un-developed country") are concerned, when we buy too easily into those dismals & refuse to dig deeper...we close our eyes to other factors that are at work...And soon, the "oh it's just Hollywood" masks the underlying problem: further contribution to marginalizing of developing, post-colonial countries.

We allow ourselves, as Americans and Hollywood film watchers, to remain ignorant. It's easier to just zone out and watch the horror film about snakes from Indonesia (interestingly enough, as I was informed today, the film showed anacondas on an island that doesn't have them) rather than to question more.

Like, for example: oh yeah, besides those creatures & plants, what ABOUT those Indonesian people? All 238 million of them with their 732 ethnic languages, spread across 13446 islands--adjustable number, depending on where the tide's at? Hmm...

And I worry such limited Hollywood representations like these (along with American media) allows Americans to further label Indonesians as "those" people (classic 'othering') and identify them solely as outliers, as perhaps only violent Muslim extremists. And the problem with labeling, is that it doesn't just end there, but it further affects attitudes/beliefs about whole groups of people & relationships with said people.

Maybe I'm making mountains out of molehills, but maybe not.

But I really think assuming all Hollywood representations are created equal is faulty, and even worse, that faultiness can still be harmful and can lead to more serious implications.

Oh boy.

As if we had another reason rethink Hollywood representations...

The Untold Story...

2011-10-05T21:48:00.004+07:00

The title that immediately came to mind for this blog was “The Rest of the Story,” but I know that’s because I remember Paul Harvey’s voice booming from our kitchen radio. My dad would listen to the show religiously, often guffawing, like he did with Andy Rooney on “60 Minutes.”

But anyways, I digress…

At our recent team meetings we talked about this, how often in life there is a “rest of the story,” or the “untold story.” And this story does not get reported because it’s not quite so sensational.

This “untold story” starts with a Muslim extremist who decided to bomb a church in Solo; he killed himself and injured many others. (At least one person has succumbed to death because of the injuries she sustained.)

This tragic event happened in Solo, a nearby city (about a 1 ½ hour drive away from us here in Salatiga) a little over a week ago. Even more devastating is that this is not an isolated event. Indonesia is well-acquainted with terrorists. They’ve experienced attacks in many large and smaller cities in Java & also in Bali.

The violence and death and trauma resulting from events is devastating. But with the trauma comes fear and anger and extreme hurt. And sadly, it’s not long before all of those emotions turn to hate, bitterness, resentment.

And when people feel angry and bitter and afraid, it can cause them to label whole religious groups with some pretty serious, unfair accusations. Some huge over-generalizations. And suddenly extreme statements are made: labeling all followers of this religion as “terrorists.”

Especially when these gross over-generalizations pour forth from fellow brothers and sisters in Christ, it’s heartbreaking.

It’s so grossly unfair.

Especially considering, “the rest of this story.”

On Sunday, October 27, after this bomb had exploded, a group of Muslims quietly gathered in front of this same church. They knelt and prayed, showing their concern and care, and lovingly and nonviolently providing their support.

A simple act of love from a non-Christian group demonstrates Christian love, showing support and togetherness with the victims, those who have persecuted.

This kind of stuff doesn’t make the news, but it happens. And it is definitely news-worthy.
And I have to wonder how differently we’d regard Muslims, especially in America (given the American media & its portrayals of Muslims), if such stories were shared.

peace of Christ...

2011-09-19T20:18:00.000+07:00

As a Mennonite, I often wrestle (rather appropriate term for a pacifist, eh?) with this whole "peace" issue, and how is it in line with the whole "Jesus" thing...more specifically, with following Jesus in my life.

Lately, in pondering peace, I have thought back to some experiences in churches and with people who consider themselves evangelical, born-again Christians.

This area is sticky for me. As a Christian, someone who loves the Lord and acknowledges Jesus as my savior, I support sharing the good news of the gospel. Of course. I think that if we are really living our lives as followers of Christ & focusing on what is godly & truly valuable, then we will not find it a burden to share of our faith but will rejoice and view it as a blessing. (I will also acknowledge that this is an area where I struggle. And I think it has to be done delicately, lovingly, and respectively, always. Especially when you’re living in a country where 90% of the people are Muslim.)

But I also believe that we Christians need to admit that it is not “up to us” to change people. We can only act as instruments. The real work and change, the master musician, if you will, comes from God...or Christ....or the Holy Spirit. To pretend or really believe otherwise is to think too highly of ourselves. In those cases, I have a hard time not believing that the Holy Spirit isn't influenced by Mr. Ego.

This sort of mentality to me is very scary...the people who are truly convicted that he/she is doing the will of God (I find that a sticky situation…a slippery slope; I don’t think it’s a big leap from that point to “I am the will of God.” I also think the underlying assumption then is that you are infallible in your understanding the will of God. And while the Holy Spirit is powerful and can guide us in our quest to do the will of God, we are sinners and we often times find we make mistakes. We misinterpret. We get it wrong.

...and I find it to sad when some of these folks, so certain that they are doing God’s will/what He wants us to, seem to embody anything but God's love and forgiveness and mercy...in its place spews verbal torrents of verbal judgments and condemnations.

These brothers and sisters in Christ—make my heart sad. May God bless them, He loves them too, but I have a hard time with them.

(Thinking of situations like this I am always brought back to something my mom starting saying to me when I was still very young..."Danielle, people do some dangerous things in the name of religion." The older I get, the more that statements rings true.)

And as angry as these people and these situations make me, and at times how hard I find it to forgive them, to not be angry at them and “to let it go”, I also pity them.

I feel so sorry for them. Their inner-selves seem to radiate anything but peace. And for me, one of the most divine blessings we receive from God is peace...a peace so pure and loving and natural and agape...like no other. Unlike anything else we can ever know. A moment when--however brief-- our daily cares and concerns and stressors evaporate and we dwell in the presence of God. A little moment where we are validated because we are God’s children. We don’t have to prove anything, to ourselves or others. We are secure and loved and safe. I love those moments. And to me, that’s God-ly peace. To me, God and peace are one in the same. Interchangeable.

And to me, the most faithful people embody this kind of inner-peace…the saints exude it.

For me, these moments of divine peace come after releasing worries and putting all my faith and trust in God...releasing heavy burdens from my shoulders. Sometimes it comes from forgiving someone I'm bitter at and have begrudged for a long time.

It's happiness and joy, forgiveness and love. It's just…God. And it's peace.

And so when people seem to regard it their job to hurry-hurry-hurry up and "save" as many people as possible...Prostylezing loudly, “come on, come on, come on: Confess Christ is your savior! Do it now; the end is near, judgment is upon us...fire and brimstone and damnation...You’ll suffer in hell for all eternity if you don’t!”

I just feel sad for these people preaching of judgment. How much their existence and their faith must be wrapped up in fear and judgment. How un-peace like it all is.

And, truthfully, I don't get where they are coming from.

To me, it is so un-Christlike. The whole approach. The whole interpretation.

At least, it’s so unlike the Christ I know.

And I'll tell ya why.

Christ didn't just spew out empty words of "believe in me." I mean the dude could have, being the son of God and all, but He didn't. Instead, he served people. He cared about them and He ate with them and cured them and talked to them and listened to them. He ate with them and endured through life with them.

Christ understood that words are empty without actions...or at least, that people would understand it that way. He understood you won't reach many with empty words.

And He wanted to reach people. And So He lived. He really lived. And aside from all of the miracle stuff, that crucifixion stuff, he also did all of that normal “living” stuff too. I think there’s a reason why there are mundane details included about him too, like where he eats and is thirsty and sleeps. Normal people stuff. Through being human and showing Himself as human.

And through His actions; through His attentiveness to people and their “living needs.” (Food & drink, cures and reliefs from illness, forgiveness to go on and live with oneself.)

Consider the alternative: how few followers would he have had during His life & now had He not interacted with people & their live. Had he not healed or taught or chatted with people. If he had, perhaps, just wondered around and talked about Himself as savior and son of God. And nothing more. If he’d been a bunch of words, but totally inactive in his relations otherwise. If He exuded anxiety and frantic-ness, rather than peace and love.

Now, if you believe that Christ--as God, as one in the same--loves you, loves everybody, more than any other human can, (after all, we Christians profess willingly died FOR us, expecting nothing in return), then why wasn't He running around like a madman before He was killed...freaking out, warning people to HURRY UP before it is too late...like some evangelicals do?

But He didn't. Not at all.

Quite the contrary. I mean yes, Jesus did talk about "He is the way, the truth, the life, and no man cometh unto the Father but by me." And others like it. But He also supported those words with His actions and His lifestyle...they weren't just empty words. The words were validated by how He lived. How He related to others. How He helped. How He loved.

And granted, this is just my observation and intuition after reading the Bible--which is admittedly highly subjective; but to me, He also seemed wise. Calm. Peaceful.

And if He loved us more than anyone else possibly ever could, it stands to reason if anyone should have been freaking out about Hell and damnation and trying to round up souls/tallying them up w/how many are on "his side" now, then I think it would've been Christ.

But I think He was SO not like that. Or at least, He was so much MORE than that.

Why wasn't He freaking out? Well, probably a lot of reasons. Many, undoubtedly, I can't comprehend. I'll just offer that disclaimer right there.

But, I do think that Christ knew that people needed to be loved. That they needed to be taken care of. And while Christ had the long-term vision that this world was not all there was, He also knew that we mere mortals don't have that vision. We are, on the other, hand, incredibly limited in our perspectives. We can only really make sense of this life (even if we do believe it’s put a blink compared to all of eternity). This life is all we've ever known and we can see and can truly comprehend (and even our grasp on this life is often times pretty shaky). And therefore, I have to wonder if Christ knew that the only way to reach us sinful, self-absorbed, worldly human-beings was through this life...even though He knew this life is temporary and will just fall away.

He had a bigger vision. Perhaps too He knew that just because someone doesn't confess Him as savior and have the relationship with Him yet, maybe He could see that later it may be possible…down the line he/she could believe.

He, as God, knew/knows what has happened, is happening and what will happen to anybody in their lifetime & in their journey with God. He knows each person...intimately. As God, He knows them better than anyone else. And He knows what this person needs--when, where, how. And what’ll take to ever believe in Him. Perhaps that includes exercising patience and vision for those who may be on a journey to believing in Christ, but aren’t there yet.

So what does it take for us to believe in God, in Christ? How do we gain Christian followers?

I don't deny that, for some, the energy and passion presented through those "Jesus as savior hurry up...confess him now and get saved" sermons works.

For others though, the words are just that...just words. They’re empty without deeds to back them up. Because what do these random souls know about Jesus and His life? Maybe oodles. Maybe nothing at all. If they can’t quite yet believe in Christ’s death as sacrifice, can’t wrap their head around that, what else/to whom else do they look?

How about people? How about these followers of Christ’s (in?)actions. How do they live their life? How they embody & enact Christ’s love? How do they treat people, these people who “follow Christ?”

Actions. They do speak louder than words.

I think Christ knew that better than anyone. He lived it: through His life, His death, His love, His relationships, and (in my opinion) His inner and outer peace.

I do believe in ghosts, I do believe in ghosts, I do-I do-I DO believe in ghosts, I do believe in ghosts...

2011-09-16T19:29:00.002+07:00

Awhile back, I remember asking our pembantu (household helper) how many Indonesians, on average--if she had to guess, believed in ghosts. She didn't hesitate and said with absolute certainty, 100%! She said it with such conviction, as though she intimately knew everyone single one.

I had to chuckle at her ability to assert this, with such certainty. And to be so deadpan about it.

And then later on, to assert with an equal amount of confidence, that us bules (albinos or foreigners) don't believe in ghosts.

I'm pretty against generalizations of that sort, but I will hand it to her:

More often than not, the Indonesians I've met do believe in ghosts. And more often than not, the westerners are more skeptical. At least for the conversations I've had, she's been pretty dead-on.

I've listened to many Indonesian friends tell me ghost stories...either from personal experience or those "through the grapevine" or from "so and so." (I've even had students write journals or essays on them!) And many of these folks seem to revel in the creepiness of it all. Even if they say they are afraid that seem to either be entertained by the story, or think that I will be, or both.

It does amuse me at points...to realize even from my own--albeit limited experience-that my Indonesian friends' claim that "people here are very superstitious" and "believe in ghosts" rings true.

The flip side of this though is that some are downright terrified of ghosts. To the point that grown people are truly petrified of the dark (like can't be home alone with their own children level of fear)...people buy into superstitious ideas and become obsessed with them...reading malevolent signs into so many (what could otherwise be seen as) happenings with alternative logical explanations...and others subscribe to the idea of black magic and curses, and again become so fixated on its validity that...I think it can become a self-imprisonment.

I feel very sad for these people. Because it really does affect them. Whether true or not, it's real to them, and sometimes that poses a greater threat.

On the one hand, it's interesting for me to see how despite one's religion (the idea that God can & will protect me..."He'll kick those ghosts' butts!"), it seems to not carry through--for many--where ghosts are concerned. Rather, God kind of gets lost from the whole "ghost equation."

It's an interesting clashing, at least I think so, of religion with culture (the very cultural beliefs in ghosts & superstitions). Especially here, where people's faith tends to be so strong, whether Muslim or Christian, whatever.

And at least in this scenario, it seems that the culture trumps & prevails.

I marvel at this...

And yet, I do recognize that it is perhaps only because this isn't my culture that I can note this. Because I am sure similar clashings and compromises happen in my own culture...in a myriad of ways. It's probably such limiting sights, overlooks, on my part. As I'm not objective or cognizance enough to take notice.

Consider how much our culture influences us (imprisons us?) and consequently how we approach religion: Arguably, how would you avoid it?

But, I think about a conversation I had today with a friend. She told of a time she attended a church and the pastor preached about how murder was (the big W) wrong, including the cases of: suicide, abortion, killing others. However, the above dictate does not apply to: war, capital punishment.

(Where in the Bible does it make such specifications with those words? (Especially of the latter ones, deemed permissible.) Or are you using your own cultural and/or political ideas of what is acceptable? Please note, I am sure that more liberal churches are not immune to this as well...the viewpoints may be different, but my underlying point is still the same. I use this one was an example because it is fresh in my mind from today's conversation.)

We all allow our culture to infiltrate our state of being and existence and ways of comprehending the world. We can't even separate faith from our culture.

Not that I think we could ever-realistically-hope to be otherwise, but perhaps a little self-reflection may help us to stop and think...as we make sense of ourselves, and our faiths, and our world, and those of others that are "different" (read as "wrong" by some) from ourselves...when we are so certain that we have it right...That we are oh-so divinely right...perhaps we need to take a breath, a step back, and re-evaluate. Because while I am convinced that we will all fall prey to this, I am also thoroughly convinced that self-reflection of our limitations of just how we are influenced and how we are molded by our culture and our circumstances can help us see others with new eyes.

If nothing else, it can provide with a healthy dose of humility.

And so...while I chortled, maybe there is greater a lesson at the end of this ghost story.

"Don't let anyone tell you any differently. What we're going through stinks, it just plain stinks."

2011-09-11T11:54:00.002+07:00

I still remember, even after all of these years, reading this quote in a book I read in the fourth grade. It was Patricia Hermes' book, 'You Shouldn't Have to Say Good-bye.' The main character's mother was dying of cancer. And Her mother said the above quote to her in a letter.

I loved that book. (Up until a few years ago I still listed it as one of my favorites, even though it is clearly meant for youngsters.) I thought it was beautifully written and it really touched me...even though I could not relate to what the young girl was going through...but the very thought of losing my mother at that age downright terrified me. And my 9 year old self thought that Hermes had captured the situation and the young girl's sentiments perfectly.

It stuck with me then...and obviously has made a lastly impression since I still can repeat a quote from the book verbatim, after almost 20 years.

(Although maybe it's because I wholeheartedly subscribe to the idea, as presented by Meg Ryan's character in the movie, "You've Got Mail," that: "When you read a book as a child it becomes part of your identity in a way that no other book ever will..." I know I certainly can't quote lines from the books I read now, even when they are some of my favorites.)

At that point in my life I had no personal experience with the awfulness that is cancer. I yet hadn't lost anyone to the disease. I had only heard of people ill with cancer. I knew it was a bad thing; A disease that made people very sick.

Sadly, I think nowadays most kids are probably not shielded from the reality of cancer for very long.

For me, it would be 2 years until my uncle would die of liver cancer, marking the first one. And then 3 years later, my great uncle would die from metastasized lung cancer, and then, a family friend would be diagnosed with breast cancer, and then, and then...the list, ironically enough, grows as fast as metastasized cancer.

The list has grown exponentially. And only continues to balloon out. (Although it feels to me that more and more people are being diagnosed with cancer...maybe that's not correct. Maybe I just know more people now. But it is rather sobering...all of the people affected & dealing with this horrendous disease--even my in own small corner of the world, my little meek life.)

This has especially weighed on me lately after the recent death of my grandmother who died from melanoma. And just this week a former MCC team member, friend, and inspiring brother in Christ, who had stomach cancer this week passed...and then--

I considering all the people who are on my prayer list now. How so many of them are on the list because of cancer:

-a not yet 30-year old young man who has a very aggressive form of brain cancer that is un-treatable and inoperable. He is under Hospice care.

-a college classmate, who 2 years ago, lost her 32 year old sister to breast cancer (the sister had 2 small children: one 2 years old and the other maybe 5?)

-a 40 year old employee at the school I attended growing up, who died of cancer. She still has a kid in high school. She won't get to see her daughter graduate, go to Prom, get married, have her own children...

-a 45 year old man & father of 2 young children, fighting rectal cancer.

And then those who are in remission, that I pray remain so:

-4 people I went to high school with who are cancer survivors.

-a pastor friend who is a breast cancer survivor

-a close family friend who is a breast cancer survivor, tongue cancer survivor, and skin cancer survivor.

-a former professor who is a uterine cancer survivor

And...the list goes on and on.

*And I KNOW there are many I'm forgetting. There are, devastatingly enough, too many to keep track of.

I struggle to write this because I am so saddened and emotion-filled and heavy...and in situations like this, I feel like there really aren't words. At least, I'm not a talented enough of a writer to produce them.

A fellow MCC Indonesia team member told me that when she served in Africa (the Congo, I think) she learned a word, in the language they spoke, called "Sannu." And it doesn't have much of a meaning...other than like a sad sigh/sad verbal utterance of desperation. When there is nothing else to say or the situation is just so sad and bleak, but you want the other person to know that you're there with him/her and that you're listening, people say this.

I wish English had a word like that.

(What we use: "I'm sorry," both for when people die to the survivors and when people are seriously ill, just seems so terribly inadequate. Arguably any words would be inadequate in situations like these, but considering what other situations we use the same words of "I'm sorry" for, just makes it seem so unfitting.)

To end, I can think of nothing other to say, other than:

*Sannu*

And requests for prayers for all of the cancer survivors and victims. And their families and friends.

May God have mercy.

The start of a new semester...

2011-09-06T18:24:00.003+07:00

Whenever I begin a new semester I am reminded of a quote from "You've Got Mail," where Tom Hanks' character says, "Don't you just love New York in the fall? It makes me want to buy school supplies."

Of course here in Indonesia we don't get that crisp, fall feeling in the air, which I do miss.

But there is still that excited, anxious energy that comes along with "going back to school."

And I just love it. I do. I eat it up. And I cannot wait to begin a fresh semester.

Of course each semester I make myself promises of how this semester will surely be different. No, REALLY. This time it will be.

And these I make these resolutions in Danielle-fashion/list form, complete with promises like:

-I will be more organized.

-I will get work back to students faster.

-I will do more scholarship/publishing/presenting.

-I will read more for teaching/professional development.

-I will get more rest.

-I will make the effort to meet with students to practice my Indonesian & so the students can practice their English.

And the list goes on and on. In short, I expect myself to become extraordinary.

While I'd like to fancy myself like that sometimes, it's so just...NOT.

On the contrary, as a result of this self-improvement list (and consequent self-failure list), I realize my faults and limitations...time and time again.

Part of me gets irritated by myself with this...for failing to meet my goals and for constantly making the same ones time and failing to meet them when I don't make the necessary lifestyle changes.

On the other hand though, to put a more positive spin on the whole thing, at least I set goals. I see the value in setting goals, in wanting to make changes and to improve myself, and I guess I never really give up on myself because I never stop making those goals, these lists of resolutions.

So, it's a good thing, right?

....

um...right?

At any rate, I am excited by the new semester. My schedule this semester is a lot more manageable than last and I'm excited by the mixture of the courses I'm teaching: literature ones, writing ones, and a public speaking course thrown in there too...

I love starting afresh. And perhaps it's the best I can do until I find my way back to grad school for my doctorate. But until that happens, in the meantime I will thrive off that intoxicating, exciting, nervous energy of my students and enjoy teaching. Because at least I get to still be in school.

Because while I know I am supposed to be the teacher...my students do teach me so, so much.

I'd like to pat myself on the back and claim it's all because of my Freirean teaching philosophy. But I need to humble myself and admit that it is also because teaching in a culture that is not your own places you in the permanent role of a student. (To deny that is to deny yourself the unique experience you're having). And I learn so much from my students all the time about: the language: Bahasa Indonesia, their culture: Javanese or otherwise, and their country: Indonesia, etc.

And isn't that the best kind of learning, not to get all Sesame Street, Barney-esque on you...but seriously? Isn't it? The wonderful opportunity to learn together?

Amen.

Lebaran/Idul Fitri di Jawa Tengah (Lebaran/Idul Fitri in Central Java)

2011-08-31T19:39:00.000+07:00

As I write this I hear the “gembang api” (fireworks) going off in the near & far distance. This has been ongoing since we returned to Indonesia on August 21. They go off in varying decimal levels. Some make me jump as they sound right on top of us, as though they’re down on our roof, and others are barely audible. Some explode with pretty, vibrant colors; others make a mere whizzing sound before ending their short-lived life.

So is one of the things that defines the Ramadhan month here in Indonesia. Since the start of Idul Fitri (which is the celebration marking the end of the holy of month of Ramadhan, according to the Islam religion) or “Lebaran” as it is called here in Indonesia, the fireworks have gotten even more noisy and abundant. And the calls to prayer much more frequent and appearing from more directions. The start of Idul Fitri is also when the Muslims break their fasting during the day hours. (Although they say they “open the fast,” which I must admit, has a much more positive sound to it.) So up until the point when Idul Fitri happens, Muslims have been fasting during the day hours, except for the elderly, the ill, and the menstruating women, and younger children (although sometimes they begin with ½ day fasting).

Idul Fitri is a neat time to be here in Indonesia. A very festive time of the year. There is an energy, an enthusiasm and even though, being Christian, I don’t participate through fasting or praying, there is a tangible spiritual-ness to the whole thing.

It is customary to “mampir” (drop by) people’s houses during Idul Fitri and visit, whether you are Muslim or not. When we enter the home we receive warm greetings (such is the amazing warmth and hospitality of people here), and are told to “sit, sit.” And then “eat, eat.”  We are urged to do a lot of eating and drinking while visiting people. This happens anytime really, but it is especially pronounced during Lebaran.

Upon entering, laid out in each sitting/receiving room are jars and jars of jajanan (snacks) There are various kinds: some are salty, others are savory and some are sweet. There are snacks resembling cookies with fruit jam in the middle—usually strawberry or pineapple, snacks made from flour and garlic, kerupok (various kinds of cracker/chip-like things: last night we were served shrimp ones and today we were served ones made from the fruit of the melinjo tree, my personal favorite), salty or shelled peanuts, wafer cookies, flavored jelly candies, and (a real treat) cashews. Cashews are always expensive, from what I’ve heard it is because of the extensive process to make them safe for consumption, because the outer part is poisonous. But when the cost is adjusted, I think it’s safe to say that they are quite astronomical here in Indonesia. (Part of what makes them so special and exciting to have!)

And sometimes you may be served hot, sweet, Jasmine tea. It’s the default here in Java. And, from what I’ve heard, in other places here in Indonesia as well. The level of sweetness may vary, because I’ve heard time and time again that the Central Javanese people really like their food & drinks SWEET. It reminds me of southern tea in the U.S. In other homes you might be served water, or perhaps soda, which is also a treat for Javanese people from the kampung. It is a bit pricey to drink “pop” here the way many people do in the U.S. Syrup is also often available, in various kinds. Perhaps “sirup” is best described as Indonesian Kool-Aid. It’s like an Italian soda but the water used to dilute it is flat, not bubbly. And it tends to be quite sweet. I think that is because 1-it is the preferred taste and 2-it helps get people’s sugar levels up quickly after a day of fasting. (Dates are also eaten for this reason, I’m told.) And tape (pronounced: ta-pay) is often served. Tape is a drink or snack made from fermented rice. So the taste is a bit like alcohol. We’ve tried two kinds: one is purple-colored (made from black rice) and the other is green-colored (made from sticky rice). I don’t like it, but Brandon enjoys it. The taste is very strong (we’ve heard people here describe it as “hot”).

It’s polite to wait until your host starts eating or drinking to begin yourself, here in Java, even if/when he/she offers you to “silakan makan” (it’s the Indonesian equivalent of bon apetit. And it’s also best to not finish your drink; otherwise it’s a sign to the host that you want more and your glass or cup will be refilled. We learned/were taught very early on to leave a little bit in the cup or glass.

And then after you have visited and snacked enough, you are fed either opor ayam or tahu campur. Opor ayam is like a curry chicken dish. It’s made from many spices with a coconut milk base. I’ve tried it because sometimes it is made with egg. And the tahu campur is a salad-like dish with tahu (tofu) and vegetables with peanut sauce over top. The vegetables may be sprouts, celery, cabbage. And then both dishes are served with ketupat. Ketupat is a rice cake (so the individual grains of rice meld together and become like a cake). They take a long time to make. The rice is wrapped in woven coconut leaves and so the taste is distinctive from other kinds of rice (so they say; I don’t quite taste the difference, but rice is rice to me here. I have to laugh—Indonesian people may claim the same thing about various kinds of American bread.) The shape of the ketupat is distinctive too and has a meaning. (…which, sadly, I forget: any friends want to jog my memory?)

Last night we visited Pak P who works in the MCC office here in Salatiga as a pembantu (helper). And today we visited our helper, Bu H. Both are Muslim and so it is always a neat cross-cultural experience to have.

Sometimes when we enter we sit on chairs, but it is the traditional way to sit on the floor on mats, or tikar. This is also a popular, more traditional way to eat here, in homes and in eateries, which is called “lesehan.”

While we were visiting Bu H today, many people entered her home to wish Bu H, and her elderly mother, a happy Idul Fitri. They also say:” maaf lahir dan batin.” The literal meaning, if you look it up in the dictionary, is a bit entertaining, as it means “I’m sorry I was born and exist.” But what it means is that the person is sorry if they have done anything to offend during the previous year. Visiting and apologizing to the elders in the kampung (traditional neighborhood) is important and part of the tradition. It is also the tradition for the youngsters to take your hand (while you greet & shake hands) and to hold your hand up to their forehead as a gesture of respect. (Not just during Idul Fitri time.) It is taught and encouraged. (And truly adorable to see toddlers automatically do this…because they have been coached to do this.)

Money is also given to children and sometimes to elderly widows. Muslims also usually give money to poor people during this season; it is expected. While we were visiting Bu H relatives would come and hand over money in envelopes for the youngsters. (Interestingly Chinese-Indonesian children are also given money during the Chinese New Year, but the money envelope in this case is red.)

The other interesting bit of our experience last night was we were left to dine by ourselves, us—a group of foreigners. I have heard this happens/can be common, for the hosts not to eat with you. While culturally, I admit that that is odd for me, I guess the reasoning is that they want you to feel comfortable/at home/like this is your own house. So you can feel comfortable to just eat by yourselves. (I like the idea a lot, but I must confess that, in practice, I struggle with it.)

Last night, as we left to return home, we saw many fireworks going off and the parades of people (some walking, some crammed into the backs of trucks) with megaphones. This apparently is called a “tabir” (spelling?) and, from what I’ve been told, each mosque (“masjid”) has this. We saw many people walking along (I have even heard of some Christian children participating in this ceremony; it’s a join-in, festive, neighborhood occasion). We saw models of mosques being carried, some brightly colored and others lit-up. Men, women, and children walked along together in this parade, taking up roads; the whole event adding to that excited, festive energy.
So was our experience with Idul Fitri this year. Each year we learn and experience new things about this festive, holy time, which is fun. That learning & new lessons are what make this cross-cultural experience exciting and challenging—that we have to be educated by Indonesian people in order to understand religious events, traditions, customs, etc.
*Disclaimer: These are things I have either observed or have been told is “how it is” during Idul Fitri here in Indonesia. I don’t claim these to be the “universal experience,” just tidbits from our time here.

So to close:

Selamet hari raya Idul Fidri yang merayakan. Maaf lahir dan batin.
(Happy Idul Fidri for those who celebrated it. I’m deeply sorry for my mistakes.)

p.d.

2011-08-26T19:02:00.002+07:00

In Bahasa Indonesia p.d. stands for percaya diri, which literally means to believe in oneself, or self-confidence.

I don't hear an awful lot about p.d. here. More often what I hear is sombong, which is arrogant, clearly indicating too much p.d.!

Similarly, I also don't hear a lot about bangga, which means rightfully proud, as opposed to the prideful kind. The only time I've heard the word "bangga" is during like graduation ceremonies or drama productions, where people have honestly worked very hard towards something and therefore have really really earned their right to be proud.

I was thinking about this because today I was joking with out pembantu (household helper) about whether she had missed me or not, and she said she missed my humor, that I was like a kid and that I had a lot of p.d.

And I honestly didn't know how to regard that. Is that a good thing? Or is that code for being "sombong" but she is too Javanese (read as: polite) to come right out and say so.

Remember too--for American friends--in a culture that doesn't esteem or value individualism and self-ness as much as western cultures often do, 'self stuff' isn't always a good thing. Whereas I think that westerners tend to think of self-esteem, self confidence, self worth--all of it--as positive.

Hmm.

After she said that I worried that I may have come across as too confident and so I said, "oh, but deep down inside I'm really not."

Should I have said that?

No clue.

But it's the truth. And I wanted her to know that. I wanted her to know that I am not super confident in myself (I'd rather be revealed than have the risk be me seemingly overly so). And I wanted her to know that in case she really thinks I'm super confident so she knows I still struggle with p.d.

I would venture to say that it's the truth that most people usually lack p.d.. I think that even when people are overall self-confident we all share many times/moments/occasions when we are not. In certain events, around certain groups of people, doing certain things that cause us to lose our p.d.

I know, what a total bunch of posers we all are!

I know I am.

"'Need' is an awfully strong word..."

2011-08-24T23:34:00.001+07:00

My mother used to say this to me when I was a little girl. And while I would stop and think when she;d say it; I don't think it carried the weight it has since living in Indonesia.

Since coming home (I am blessed to have two "homes), I've realized something (something I already knew, but forgot as I relished my home leave):

Americans are consumer-crazy...it's such a consumerist-driven culture. Arguably, many cultures are, in their own ways. One could even say that whenever people have the money they will spend it. And perhaps if the wealth were greater in Indonesia, Indonesians would be spending like mad, just like Americans. And perhaps some Indonesians are like that over different things when they can afford to be.

But still, I just can't help but shake my head, realizing how much Americans spend, and what they spend (read as: waste) money on.

Myself (oh so embarrassingly) included.

I also have to realize how easily suckered-in I am to this. Even though I think it's ridiculous. Even though I think so much of it is meaningless. Even though I think it's a waste of money and further drives the desire for more, more, more. Sadly, still---I am prone to wanna buy buy buy, when I am in that environment.

I might occasionally pat myself on the back for saving money by doing it this way or that, but secretly I may want to spend (ie-waste) that money to buy that fresh herb or the organic kind or the higher quality of this or that. And even when I don't buy it, if I still want it so much, or dwell on it excessively, I'm still falling prey to the American consumerist culture.

And while I feel guilty at times when I'm there, the worst part is, I gotta admit that: it also feels really great:

To shop at home. To splurge on some clothes I like or feel good about myself in. To get a higher quality lotion that makes my skin feel really soft. To walk into a huuuge grocery store with a large all-natural section and buy organic products that make me feel really healthy and good while I eat them and afterwards.

Ah. I had many moments at home when I felt like that and the thoughts:

Total bliss.
Awesome.
So happy to be home.
Drool.
Look at this.
Want.
Buy.

Perhaps because I like choices and variety. Perhaps because it's my familiar culture and what is considered home and familiar and comfortable. Some of my feelings may even be because quality is not always as high in Indonesia for certain products, even though the cost may be cheaper, that range definitely more limited.

Sometimes I want the better quality one of that thing that won't break or the opportunity to buy the one that will taste better because it's organic or without preservatives. Because those above involve being more economical in the long-run, or with the organic or all-natural foods, it involves my health.

At least that's what I tell myself.

And some of it may be true, to a degree.

But then, I come back here.

And I talk to our household helper about her friend whose husband is laid off work and can't buy rice. Rice that is 8000 rupiah (=1 dollarish) for a kilo to feed her family for a day or two.

Suddenly a food processor, the organic variety of the vegetable, my expensive, all-natural face cream, it all seems so embarrassingly meaningless, so extravagant.

And I start to think about all the gadgets and gismos and stuff I have in the US, and I compare it to what we have here, and geeez--how little we really can get along without...

I think about how it's all just...

STUFF. Just stuff. As much as I sometimes miss that "stuff" like food processors or dishwashers or a/c, and it's nice...I think, eh. After being here awhile I can't help but think: eh. Shrug.

(I also think it's significant that I start to forget what we have in America. Missing it? No. Certainly not. Forgetting we have it? Probably. Really needing? Ugh. Think again.)

Is it really that important? Can we really say that that is a "necessity?"

Not so much.

Need, after all, is an awful strong word.

thanks be to God!

2011-08-22T17:11:00.001+07:00

For any faithful readers, I apologize for my absence. I have been relishing our time in America, being with friends and family. Also, truthfully, my ponderings did not seem as interesting or as insightful. Also aside from a few times, I didn't feel the urge to write/process like I do here. I realized that while it is comfortable and easy to be home in my familiar culture, I know that living abroad challenges me more and it puts me into situations that force me to think. Hence: the more writing that takes place in Indonesia.

But as of Saturday we are now living the ex-pat life again. I thank God and thank friends for the prayers for safe and smooth travels. Because all 5 (whew!) of our flights went completely smoothly. Our luggage arrived and (perhaps best and more surprising of all!) we both were able to sleep on the plane a lot more than we usually do/ever have! For a 36 hour travel session, I think that amounts to success: can we get an Amen?

It is really nice to be home. I am so thankful to MCC for the opportunity to have a home leave and it was wonderful to be home, with friends and family, especially as my grandmother was ill. But after while, it grows weary living out of a suitcase. You start to long for your own place, your own home, as we have come to think of Indonesia as. I also truly missed my cats and teaching and a regular work schedule (part of my borderline-workaholic ways, or so Brandon tells me!). It is also wonderful to be back into the wonderfully supportive MCC family we have here.

I feel especially grateful right now...and I hesitate to write this because the last thing I want to do is to make relatives worry but I got into an accident today.

I was biking along on a busy street (made even busier by the traffic of Ramadhan--nearing the start of Idul Fitri) and I pulled out to turn to make a right-hand turn and a motorcyclist hit my bike and I fell off. I hit the pavement quite hard, but I was extremely fortunate (what I really believe/know was God watching out for me) and the only damage was the back of my right calf got bruised and a little cut (all in the muscle) and I got a little scrape on my elbow, and a sore palm where I broke my fall.

The eerie/providential part of it was that I had just prayed to God (no exaggeration) a minute beforehand to please get me to my destination safely. And then I turned and was hit. The other really amazing part of it is that this is the first time since coming to Indonesia that I have not worn a helmet while riding a bike. I usually do; but I had forgotten it and didn't realize it until partway there. I think I was out of the habit of riding it, or perhaps I'm still in that mental fog that comes with jet lag.

But, wow...that timing was just amazing. Truly amazing. And (I have no doubt) God's hand in answering my prayer and protecting me.

It is amazing how minimal the damage was when it could have been so so much worse (especially sans helmet!). I shudder to think about the "what-if" scenarios.

It also astounds me how fast it all happened, how in a split second I was hit and falling to the ground. It reminds me to "hati hati" (be careful) and it reminds me that God watches over me and answers prayers.

I am very thankful for my health, my life, my safety...especially in light of what could have been such a bad situation.

I'll write more later, but for now, let me reiterate once more:

Praise be to God, for everything!

(And friends and family, yes, I will EXTRA CAREFUL and stop riding should I realize a missing helmet again. Or better yet, I won't forget it!)

honoring & remembering my Grandma Elaine

2011-07-29T23:30:00.001+07:00

My Grandma Elaine passed away last Saturday. I was there, at her house, in the room, when she stopped breathing. That was an intense experience. But, as sad as it was, it also was a blessing. She had no quality of life anymore, and was on heavy doses of painkillers to deal with the pain the cancer caused her. Thank God for painkillers, but they did also make her comatose/not lucid. Her faith was strong; she was ready to go home and be with God.

Since my older brother couldn't make it home for the funeral, I read his tribute to her. And I also wrote one of my own. I never did that when my Grandma Donelson died. And I am glad I wrote something for my Grandma Elaine, because in addition to trying to honor her, I know writing is therapeutic for me.

What I wrote is as follows:

"I would like to echo Jeremie's statement, thank God for putting such a wonderful Grandma in my life. Although not related by blood, I was never made to feel that way. On the contrary, all she ever showed us was love:

I will always remember walking into her houses for Christmas eve dinner and her warm, jovial greeting. Her bright blue eyes would twinkle and shine in her joyous, loving way (that I'll miss so much) and she would wrap me in a warm embrace, with her voice echoing Grandpa's booming out, “Hello! Merry Christmas!” And her beautiful home, festively decored for the holidays would smell of her cookies on the table and whatever delicious dish she had made made. It was always the perfect place to be: she made Christmas so special. You entered and were happy & you felt at home, which is what she did—she made you feel at home. Even with whatever ecletic crew who happened to gather for dinner (I frequently had to ask who so-and-so was); but everyone was included and everyone was welcome. In that way, she embodied the Christian value of inviting people in & loving and caring for them like family (whether they were or not), and feeding people.

She also showed her grandmother love by her support, and her presence: for concerts or recitals or plays. As a high school friend of hers said yesterday, I don't remember very many occasions where Grandma Elaine wasn't there, cheering you on.
And I thought: “no, there weren't. You're right.” She was always there, smiling, and showing her support, her love.

Even as I child, I knew my grandmother was special. One who was kind and loving and baked the most amazing goodies, always remembered your birthday (with a dollar for each year old you were), always found the neatest little thing to include in your Christmas package. But mostly, a grandma who just made you feel good whenever you were around her. She had such warmth and love that she just radiated.

But since growing up, I can also see what a wonderful friend she was too: always willing to lend a recipe, never hoarding them, but happy to hand 'em over. One of the last visits I had with her she made it a point to teach me how she braided her cardamom loaves before putting them in the oven, so hopefully Jeremie won't be cardamom bread-less.

She was always so good about dropping a card in the mail to you, just to let you know that she was thinking about you. She'd ask questions, to show her interest in what was going on in your life, what you were doing, how things were going for you. She'd remind you that you were in her prayers--a wonderful friend too.

Lastly, I think how fortunate we all were to have such a sister in Christ: a woman so strong in her faith. She taught me, from such a young age and without me even realizing it, lessons about how to follow God in your life. To trust in the Lord, to pray, that He loves you, that He has a'hold of you, and even in the process of dying, others above self. (Even in the weeks before her death, while preparing for her funeral and this world without Elaine Shreve, she was more concerned with others & their well-being than she was herself, which I think speaks significantly of the kind of person she was.)

I also think back to a few years ago and a conversation we had: we were sitting in her beautiful flower garden. We were talking about my career ambitions, as we pulled weeds together. And I remember her telling me how she had never really had a career, or had found what she was “supposed to do” with her life. She said she just usually found her place in the kitchen, doing that, working in that way. She said this matter-of-factly, shrugged it off, in her very “that's that” Grandma-esque way.

It never really struck me at the time, but it does now: with all the emphasis our culture puts on individual success and personal achievements, she just shrugged 'it off, those societal viewpoints of what makes one defined or important or worthy. And instead, she just said, “For me, I don't know.”

But I think the underlying point (that she was, of course, too humble to come right out and say) was that defining oneself, making oneself, it didn't matter for her. Rather, she was other-focused; she loved and served others with humility. But most of all, she was Christ-focused: her person and her self-worth was entirely wrapped up in Him, was validated by Him. I can only aspire to be like that.

In short, and to quote Uncle Todd-y, “What a woman!”
What a woman indeed."

*My Grandma Elaine was not my grandmother biologically. She was my mother's foster mother. But growing up we only ever knew her and regarded her as "grandma." And she always treated us like that. It was an honor to know her.

Americans' Obsession with Time

2011-07-06T01:38:00.001+07:00

One of our first "homecomings" to America was standing in line for 25 minutes or so to go through passport control. Even though we are Americans (unquestionably making the entrance process unconceivably easier), the line for Americans and legal aliens (such a problematic term; I hate it. To me it speaks multitudes of the 'other'ing that occurs), it still took a while to make our way through. The line went pretty slow and, of course, after a flight that 12+ hours long, the last thing you want to do is be held up any more. (Though it did feel good to stand up)

So, we waited.

I didn't think much of it. I have never been a terribly patient person but I have also never been an overly impatient sort either. (Okay, okay: unless I am in a big hurry for a specific reason.)

But as I stood there, and as we (ever so) slowly made our way through the line, one thing became striking apparent:

Americans do not do great with loss of time...with having to wait.

It wasn't that anyone was throwing a hissy fit or a tantrum (that I saw, thankfully).

But it was a incessant topic of conversation. All throughout that entire wait.

I caught it from different people's conversations too: they talked about how long the line(s) were, how long the process was taking. They grumbled and bemoaned about having to wait after such a long flight. They had extensive conversations with their travel companions and neighbors in line about the benefit of getting a "frequent traveler scanner" passport that promised to get you through this line in 15 minutes. When our one path diverged into two, they suspiciously eyed the two options: trying to size them both up and mentally calculate (or derive some sort of paranormal 'feeling') as to which one would go faster. And then upon making their decision, the obsession still did not end. Their choice needed to be evaluated as they pondered aloud: "well, I guess we'll see who gets there (to the ultimate destination) first." (Only to be met with yet another line and point of destination, I'm sure.) Clearly, they just couldn't "let go."

And there was more. But I'll stop there. I think you get the point.

(All the while:--in my sleep deprived loopyness and altered mental state, observing this obsession. In all frankness, I felt almost drugged with exhaustion while oddly also in a hyper-aware state, experiencing reverse culture shock in full force. And all while standing in this line, some over-dramatized, welcome to America: "yay us" video was playing. Half the time it was praising America and bragging of its wonderfulness. But the other thing this video did, as did signs on the wall, was thanking people for their time. And in a very diplomatic way--apologizing for the wait.)

I have never seen that Indonesia. If this does happen, I venture to say it's extremely rare. It all seemed to loudly proclaim to the masses: time means a lot here.

Now--arguably, people are cranky when they first get off an international flight. And rightfully so. It's a long process and even when all goes smoothly and perfectly, trans-continental travel is a heck of a long time to be on an airplane. You may start to think any place with a bed or any place that isn't an airplane sounds perfect, ideal. In fact, any place starts to seem better than airplanes and airports, even if you are one of the sort who like to fly.

So I get it. This may not be the best place nor the best time to be scrutinizing Americans' actions.

Except that this obsession with time has continued throughout the past 2 weeks to be a hot spot of conversation, of focus, of obsession. At many different times. And with many different people. They seem to share this one good ol' American value: time is crucial.

Of course I've heard the old adage: "Time is money."

But you know, I think, in response to that: blah blah blah.

I'm sorry but my response to that is: yeah, so what? A lot of other things are "money" (read as: worth something). And we fritter away those things too, just as easily in a multitude of ways.

And moreso, I think that, like money, fixating on time can and does make us crazy. It becomes a very unhealthy.

Yes, it's stressful to be busy and to lose time. But, stressing out about it usually doesn't help. Often times we just find ourselves in these situations that will be time-consuming. We will have to wait in lines. We'll have to deal with crowds. We'll have to wait our turn. We'll end up at the wrong part of the intersection with no traffic light and have to wait twice as long as the guy on the other street. We'll have to deal with forms and processes and paperwork and regulations and all sorts of suck-tastic things.

But that's life.

And, I truly believe (and if I were a gambler I'd bet you) that our fretting about it really doesn't or can't do much good. Perhaps I'm wrong: and occasionally you can come up with a solution or innovative idea to save time. But usually: that's just life. It's out of our control. We don't have the power or the capability to change (on such a large scale) "how things work" to save much time.

So we might as well just wait our turn.

And obsessing over time takes us out of the present moment.

We rob ourselves of the present. We're so obsessed with getting where we need to go and/or saving a bit of time, suddenly, that's it. We're tunnel-visioned and on this die-hard quest to save a teensy bit of time. Maybe 5-10 minutes. (When in reality the time expelled griping about how long something is taking and de-briefing about it/recounting it later to others can take 20-25 minutes, or more.)

And to me--that's sad. Really sad. What a discrepancy!

I know that this life is really difficult (okay, it sucks) at points. But there is also a lot of beauty and wonder and loveliness in it too.

So: see it. Realize it. Remember that and be aware of all of it.

Just be. Breathe. Take in what's around.

You have to be here at that exact point in time anyway, even if in future you are able to revise the whole practice of waiting in lines.

But for now, for this little moment, relax.

The use of "we" here is intentional, and not just because--although an ex-pat--I am also an American. But I'm time-mad too.

I am thankful for my experiences in Indonesia because I believe that that has helped me to "take a chill pill" about it a bit.

But, I've still got a long way to go. 'Cause even though I know all of the above, old habits die hard. And when this mentality permeates your culture and your rhythm of life (in the fast line) and when you are a very busy individual (both by choice and by profession) and you've always got a mile-long to do list, it's hard to let the subject of time go.

I need to (continuously) learn & to remember the lesson of just BEING as much as any other person. Namely, any other American.

[Lesson of BEING, my definition: not worrying about what you did 5 years ago, 5 months ago, 5 weeks ago, 5 days ago, 5 hours ago, 5 minutes ago, 5 seconds ago, but you are enjoying the moment of the here and now, right now. This also means not fixating on what you'll be doing: 5 years from now, 5 weeks from now, and so forth. Or fixating on the present for the entire purpose for future motives. Just now. Just the present. Just you and what is around you. Just BEING.]

If we could only do that. Not even all the time but just a fraction of the time, we--Americans and many other people all throughout the world--would be a heck-uva lot happier. The point of obsession for Americans is time, but perhaps for another culture or another individual person, the point of obsession is different. But the end result is just the same: removal from the present and fixation on something beyond the here and now.

I am ashamed to admit it, but I know I don't spend a lot of time in the here and now. I spend a lot of time on the past and the future.

Even when I fool myself into thinking it is the present, it's often still not. (For example: the present means now. So I think that means today. "What am I going to do today?" But that quickly gets translated into: what am I going to do to 2 hours, or this evening, or right now: what am I ABOUT to do? And I have to admit to myself: that's also living in the future, not the present. Yes, the future is more immediate, but it's still the future.

Ah, the obsession in time in variant forms.

And in my opinion the practice of BEING could be considered the direct antithesis of time obsession.

Note to self (though wholeheartedly believe many others can be fellow students in this): extremely valuable lesson in life.

But perhaps it's more than that: According to many, Eckhart Tolle & Geneen Roth, to name a few, this the key to true happiness.

Reverse Culture Shock...

2011-06-24T22:38:00.001+07:00

I knew it would happen; and it has...

In some ways it's pretty much for the reasons I expected; others have quite surprised me.

What has shocked us:

--drinking fountains--wow, really? Safe water to drink for free? I've developed a new appreciation for them.

--safe water from any faucet, in general. Both Brandon and I talk about how we need to "psych" ourselves up like to brush our teeth. Convince ourselves that this is *really* okay.

--cleanliness and orderliness and well-maintained-ness of airports, streets, stuff...

--traffic: people here really adhere to traffic laws. *wow* Some ex-pats I know consider this boring in America, but I find it refreshing. It's a lot less stressful. I am not worried someone is going to pull out in front of me.

--I love the rolling hillsides of the country. I love the wide-open spaces, long & empty highways, the greenness. (Of course Indonesia has its own lush verdure but the landscape is definitely different. Oh, you lovely, lovely Maple trees.)

--I'm (quite literally) brought down to size. I got used to being more average/not quite so short living in Indonesia. Being in Singapore, Tokyo, America, around more westerners and other tall folks, I realize that comparatively--I am very, very short.

--bathrooms: dry (no wet floored) bathrooms. And automatic toilet flushers, soap dispensers, water faucets, and paper towel dispensers--whoa! Felt so futuristic. Also, there were signs for "cold water and hot water"--really? A choice? Such luxuries!

--our airplane food impressed us! Does that say something? ha! I was thrilled to have olives, asparagus, olive oil, grapes, real orange juice, yummy bread, hummus, served to us on our marathon-trip home. (It does seem pretty sad when airplane food impresses you! Although I did have to chuckle--all of these months of living in Indonesia and having to get used to eating rice every day/for practically every meal there. And looking so forward to limited rice here in America. But guess what we had served to us on the airplane? You guessed it--rice! oh dear!)

--slipping into Indonesian. This one surprised me. Because as much as I'd like to fancy myself, I am not fluent. And also we don't communicate in Indonesian regularly while in Indonesia. We teach English, after all. And so it has surprised me at points when Indonesian comes out. (ayo, permisi, etc) I also slipped into Indonesian in Singapore when some people working at the airport couldn't understand my English. This was totally unconscious. (thankfully it wasn't entirely out of place. Singapore has Chinese, English and Malay speakers and Malay and Indonesian are similar. And I definitely could not do the Chinese!)

--the flight attendants on our trip home: in the airplanes we've been on in Asia (Indonesia, Malaysia, Singapore, Thai) they have almost always been females and those females are always makeup and adorned and attractive--wearing tight outfits/usually batik-looking uniforms. And they are tall. That used to bug me until I realized it's probably a reasonable request as they are supposed to help get luggage out from the overhead containers and being short (like me, or shorter) would not go over real well.

--contrast the above with the much more "Real" looking flight attendants on the American airlines. More men. More average, heavier-set, matronly looking women. Older. No or limited makeup.

--grocery store & the choices. I was forewarned that this would happen. I guess it happens to a lot of MCCers or other missionary workers when they come home and go into a grocery store or a Walmart that they marvel or freak out a bit. So that I was shocked didn't surprise me. But what did surprise me was that this wasn't a completely positive feeling. And that was sad for me. After all, I had been looking forward to shopping or just browsing and taking it all in for months. And so when I got in and really couldn't handle it...when it got too big, too much, I was shocked, but saddened too.

--the prices of groceries (& other "stuff") is mouth-gaping as well. Again, and of course, comparatively. (I think one trip costs about 1/4 of what it would in Indonesia)

--The diversity was shocking. But refreshing too. So was not getting stared at and singled out and called "bule."

--Understanding everything that is spoken to you--woohoo! It's a relief and a helluva a lot less stressful when language isn't a concern/a stressor.

--I was also quite shocked listening to Americans speak, the way that they converse. On our long flight from Tokyo to Detroit, I ended up across the aisle from a younger guy and an older couple. The older man was a retired military man and the younger guy was currently serving. And the conversation was so startling. Both the manner in which they spoke and what they spoke about.

Mannerisms: they took up a lot of space physically...with arms and legs spread out. Lots of big hand wavings and elaborate gestures. They were clearly not worried about drawing attention to themselves. (In my opinion, quite the contrary. But it's also entirely possible--I realize--that they were just being themselves. And I was not used to seeing this, so my problem--not theirs.)

Conversation topics: what made them distinct. They bragged about defying authority and standing up to people. And I thought about how that does not happen often (at least in my experience) in Indonesia. There is more of a respect for elders and authority and "the system." But also, the group-focused culture does not vale or encourage making oneself distinctive. And contrast that with American culture, which I think is so much about it/what drives it is so much on valuing individuality and making oneself special or unique.

The two guys also talked about money and pay increases. And that struck me. I don't remember money topics coming up in Indonesia so much. (Well they do but much more in a "that's more expensive" or "it's cheaper there." It's not so individualistic. But more of a "we're all in this together of trying to find the cheapest" ideology.) It seemed a bit tacky to me, or braggy or show-offy to talk about salary. (Again, I'm sure cased a lot from where I was coming from.)

Another thing---and perhaps it was just the two of them as military folks "shooting the breeze" and maybe it's because I'm Mennonite/pacifist, but they were talking about disciplining and getting people "in line" and talked about wanting to "beat the crap out of people" to train them or break them. The older one commented on this and then said "I bet they don't do that anymore though, do they?" The younger one responded, "Well, they don't let us but we try anyway."

It was a bit hard to deal with it--comments like this.

And I've just been struck by the very "informative" and "knowing" way that Americans talk. This has always been a pet peeve of mine but I probably have become even more sensitized. And I do have to wonder how much it stems back to the cultural value: making oneself distinctive, what you know, how you're special or important or set apart from others, how much money you have, how you can question authority or defy something, etc, etc.

Then I compare that (because running that comparison seems to be all I've been able to do in ways of processing culture shock and in re-acclimating) to Javanese culture and the emphasis on not being "sombong" (arrogant) and it just (seems so) totally opposite.

That constant comparison is something we've been forewarned about, but it's still hard.

In theory I think playing the excessive comparison game is dumb...why compare two cultures? Because I really don't believe that cultures can be compared or evaluated as solely similar or different...they're too complex and too rich and varied and it just seems either fruitless/futile or like you are cheapening them to contrast them like that.

On the other hand, I don't seem able to avoid doing so. Which--I guess makes sense. I mean of course, since culture is such a distinctive part of life and and an all-encompassing part of where/how you live, how could you not compare? Especially when there are two to compare--where you're from and what has shaped you vs. where you have lived for the past 2 years and grown accustomed to? I also recognize that this constant comparing game is a way to mentally process/cope with all of the changes I feel...how I deal with all the reverse culture shock I am experiencing.

So this is what this blog is...mental debriefing...

And some highlights since we've arrived home:

--organic fat free milk and dried raspberry & almond muesli (I don't care for the milk enough in Indonesia to eat it with cereal, so I really looked forward to this. It was thrilling, as perhaps silly as it sounds!)

--asparagus...holy yum!

--orange juice, not from concentrate. Wow, the taste takes me back to my childhood.

--raspberries...divine, truly heavenly bliss!

--tofurkey and veganaise sandwiches on rye bread (I have been craving this type of sandwich for the longest time in Indonesia!)

--cashews for a snack--woohoo!

***The biggest highlight though is the hugs...I have really missed my mom and it was a beautiful moment to rush toward her open arms (especially since, very unlike me, she is not a hugger). And hugs from other relatives and dear friends.

As hard and as shocking as it is, (Especially when you realize that if you don't belong here anymore than...so then it begs the question: where *do* you belong? Nowhere anymore), it's also wonderful.

I find myself so happy and relaxed--without even realizing it. I find the outdoors even more beautiful than I remember. I marvel at the nature, at God's lovely creation. (Like the double-full arch rainbow we saw yesterday driving in the car after it rained yesterday!) I relish the fresh air.

Although hard and shocking and surreal and disorienting at times, it is *truly* so nice to be home.

going home...

2011-06-20T09:40:00.002+07:00

We're leaving today to head home.

I ask for your prayers for safe and smooth travels.

Bless you all--

Cancer & God's timing...

2011-06-16T10:31:00.001+07:00

In the late spring of 2006, my paternal grandmother fell and broke her shoulder. She was 91 years old & her health was on the decline; she had fallen several years before and had broken her hip. While bits of her short term memory was fading, her long term memory and overall mindset was still quite sharp.

Her health continued to deteriorate. She developed pneumonia and then congestive heart failure.

She ended up passing away on July 9, 2006--exactly a year to the date--on Brandon & my first wedding anniversary. Which was, of course, bittersweet. And our anniversaries have remained bittersweet, even now--almost 5 years later. I am sure they will remain as such. I can't think about our anniversary without thinking about my Grandma Donelson.

She was an amazing person. A wonderful grandmother. A selfless, servant-minded person who valued and loved and cherished her family above all else. And she made divine homemade pies.

The summer of 2006 was a hard time for my family because of her illness & death. Not that it wasn't expected. And we could certainly rejoice at her long, well-lived life. But she was a constant stronghold, a pillar in our family. And for my (and my brother's) rationale--while we know that no one is in fact immortal, I guess we held her as such. Unfairly granted her that title, perhaps for our own solace. Which was why even though she was 91 years old and declining in health, her death came as a surprise--however nonsensical and downright illogical that may seem to you readers.

But I digress--the important thing is: I was extremely blessed & am deeply grateful for the time I could spend with her, at home in NY, for those few months.

At that point in time Brandon & I had just graduated from Marietta College with our BAs. We already had plans to move to Toledo so I could attend the graduate program in English literature. And Brandon could continue his masters online.

But at this point in time--I had been living in Marietta for 5 years. I had plans to move to Toledo for 2 years. My life was all laid out--But, there was this odd, brief interlude of time, this period of transition where we had moved from Marietta but not quite arranged our move to Toledo.

And that little window of time is when my dear, beloved grandmother grew gravely ill and passed away.

I won't pretend to know the reasons why it all happened like this or that I fathom God's master plan (even a part so minuscule as this) but I will say this--I am extremely, extremely grateful that is worked out like this. That this was how God's plan happened to fall together.

I don't want to be so narcissistic or self-absorbed that I say that this was done "because of me." Because I really don't believe the world revolves so intently around me--so that matters of life and death are designed for what is "better" for me.

But I do consider that time a gift, a blessing from God...that I was able to spend quality time --with one of the most amazing women I've ever met, who also happened to be my dear, beloved grandmother--as she was dying. That I lived close enough just for that summer to regularly visit and chat with her, rather than just for a brief period right before she passed.

I reflect on that memory now, as we prepare to go home for our 2 month home leave. Circumstances strike me as strangely, albeit providentially similar.

We have lived in Indonesia just shy of 2 years. We will live here for 2 more years. (Our contract is up in 2013.) We have not been home since we moved here in 2009.

But when you extend your contract to 4 years (add another year from the original 3 year contract), MCC allows you a 2 month home leave. They will pay for you to go home and to be with your family for 2 months.

Just yesterday I received news that my Grandma (my foster grandmother--from my mother's side) about a cat scan done last week. She has been taking chemo for stage 4 melanoma that had spread to her chest, liver, lymph nodes...The recent test results showed that her cancer has spread to her spleen and that the tumor in her liver is now 2 times as large as it had been.

The doctors estimate her remaining time at 1-3 months. And she has opted to stop taking the chemo. It made her feel too sick and clearly, devastatingly, it isn't working.

This news of her worsening condition reached me 5 days before I will get on an airplane to head back to the US.

Once again, I am blown over by the timing. And so so thankful.

Especially as I reflect on other MCCers' realities: having to say final good-byes to parents and get back on an airplane to return to work--knowing full well that their parent is dying and they will never see them again on this earth.

Or, another friend, whose parent died just a few months before the end of their MCC term. The MCCer boarded a plane (less than 18 hours after receiving the news) to head home, to say good-bye. But devastatingly, her parent had already passed away before she could reach her--as she sat in an airport on a layover. She didn't get her final good-bye, her last moment with her mother.

I know too that on August 18 I will have to come back to Indonesia...Perhaps I'll also have to say good-bye to my grandmother knowing it'll be the last time. But the timing has happened just so that I can spend some time with her, as I could with Grandma Donelson. I can be there for my family. I can support my mother. I can't change anything. But I can just BE there. And sometimes as helpless as you know you ultimately are, that "just being there" counts for A LOT.

I don't understand God's timing. I haven't the slightest inclination about His master plans.

I don't know why it all worked out this way. But I do know this--I am grateful. Very, very grateful, that it did.

Entrance denied: for you, not you

2011-06-07T23:18:00.001+07:00

I've wrote time and time again about my increased awareness of my privileges since moving to Indonesia in a multitude of different areas: my skin color, my nationality, my education level, my sexual orientation, etc.

But I haven't yet written about the power Americans possess to come and go as we please—through the boundaries into other countries while forbidding entrance to enter ours.

At least it seems that way—I think about how easy it was for me to do the traveling that I have done outside of my home country: to seven countries in Europe while I studied abroad and to three countries in Asia: two for VISA issues and the other—the destination, the country I was relocating to.

And then I reflect on the experiences of my friends here—how they have been denied entrance into my country. And I feel deeply, deeply ashamed.

And then I compare that to another image: one of me residing in this country. Kicking my feet up, making myself at home. Already have lived here for two years with plans to live here for two more--With no to limited VISA problems.

On the contrary, we so easily obtained our KITAS (what they call VISAS here in Indonesia). Granted, we did have the necessary paperwork and helpful materials from the University where we would work: letters of support and acknowledging our reason for wanting to enter in/live in this country.

But even when we came through & stayed (ever so briefly) in Malaysia and Singapore, it was so so easy. We had to follow some regulations (answer some questions, have departure tickets, etc) but still—I can't help but think—how would this have gone over if I was wanting to pass “ever so briefly” through America and “I” was an Indonesian citizen.

Now, I am not an expert on how this all works by law—in terms of Indonesia or America. Rather, I am quite ashamed by how bodoh (stupid) I am about these matters. (I do hope this experience will help encourage me to learn more.)

However, I would venture to guess (and if I were a betting person—I'd venture to bet quite a bundle on the fact) that I am a lot more entitled to come and go as I please with more freedom and less hassle than what many others experience.

I am so deeply frustrated with America's rules & regulations & limitations of who is “deigned” worthy or acceptable to enter into “the great” US of A.

And I am very embarrassed as my friends here—fellow MCCers from Indonesia or from India wistfully tell their stories of being denied entrance into my country—while I can easily enter and make myself at home in theirs.

The sickly, terribly ironic part of it to me is the “conveniently disregarded truth” that my country was formed as a country of immigrants (after we decided to usurp power from “those Indians” who dared to reside on our land hundreds upon hundreds of years before we arrived).

And then, take a look at my own story. Granted, I don't know as much as I'd like to about my family tree/genealogy, but I do know that I am of Swedish, English, and German descent mostly—with some Irish and Scottish thrown in there for spice. (And judging from my fair skin, blue eyes, and lighter hair—my blood line has strong roots in the Western part of Europe.) But even with how little I know of each side of my family—I do know that they all were immigrants coming to America to start a new life there.

Lucky for them (and me): immigration folks were a lot more gracious then than they are now.

It just all seems so wrong. It is wrong. It fills me with a deep rage and sentiment of unjust whenever I think about it—the situation at large as well as these individuals' stories.

When someone has a clear entry date and exit date, is clearly connected with and has support from a organization (a religious, nonprofit, human-service organization), and the immigration officers who are “screening” them acknowledge the “good work” that they are doing and thank them for it—and yet, then audaciously deny them their two week VISA...@#I$UO@I#$U!

Hearing it makes my blood boil.

Then--I think about how defiant Americans get about letting “them” into “our” country—especially those who we try to (read as: can & do) marginalize or pinpoint as “other” or “different.” Ones that we'd like to portray as poor or as able offer nothing, or dangerous—even though really how often are they? I am sure some may fall under these titles but really, how many don't? I can't help but believe the latter are the greater number: falsely labeled.

And then let us think about how aghast & deeply offended some Americans get when they are denied entrance into “that country.” As though possessing and flashing your American passport should be an automatic VIP pass into any place we darn well please to go.

swallow. breathe.

Think nice, loving, Christ-like thoughts about said people, Danielle.

The feelings of rage are compounded and sealed by feelings of deep shame and humiliation—especially when hearing about their experiences are held within the same visit (the same conversation) as us daydreaming about our future trip to India (our friend's country)--I just cower.

Seriously?!?

Now granted, perhaps we will be denied entrance into their country (which I admit would be rather serendipitous) but still—it all just seems a helluva a lot less likely. And I can't help but believe it's because it is.

As I reflect on experiences of a friend of mine, following a significant other to India, living their for a year and not carrying through with the initial plan of a teaching job. I don't recall any this person had any significant problems with the legality of her residence.

Humbling.

I always feel the need to deeply apologize to my friends. Perhaps I don't have to/shouldn't have to—after all, I don't call the shots with the rules of immigration/entrance/etc.

However, I think it's all my way of saying “I don't agree with this AT ALL.” And that “I am so so sorry.” And I acknowledge that I have a great privilege that you don't have. Sometimes I try to deflect/be humorous/defuse the tense moment by saying that “But they didn't ask me” or “I'm not important enough for them to listen to me.”

Why? Perhaps it just makes me feel better.

Maybe it's just another way of saying I'm sorry. I can't change this situation. But truly and from the deepest part of my heart, if I could, I would.

Maybe some people are thinking/would think: But you don't have to apologize to them.

But, I think I do. I feel that I do—sama saja. (=it's just the same)

Perhaps it's part of genuine sympathy. Trying to really have a heart and imagine other's plights. Because I have not yet experienced their situation & I have to wonder if I ever will.

Or maybe it's seeing them as brothers and sisters in Christ—a more global idea of my church family. And likening it to how it'd feel when a sibling is denied entrance and you aren't—as you both are doing similar types of work.

Or maybe it's because the more expansive my experiences and friendships with people from other countries and in traveling abroad and now in living abroad—the more these differences seem to be so so trivial. Extreme in some regards of course, of course, but really minimal in others, especially when they are your family.

I recognize that some of this logic is perhaps flawed, but I can't help it. My opinions on this topic are a weird mixture of both what I believe and what I feel. And on this issue it's hard to separate out the two.

All I know is that I always end up where I began—a little more emotional but a little more grateful and a little more aware of my privilege-full American existence.

Home Leave Countdown: 2 weeks from tomorrow...and mixed emotions

2011-06-05T21:31:00.001+07:00

Judging from how fast time has gone leading up to home leave, I can only imagine how fast our time at home will go.

But, wish as I might sometimes, time does not stop, or even slow down.

So, on June 20 we will fly to Jakarta, then to Singapore, then to Tokyo, then to Detroit, then to Buffalo.

And yes--I am totally exhausted just thinking about it. I hope & pray all goes smoothly. (Please do the same.)

My emotions surrounding our home leave are a mixed bag.

I am looking forward to going home. Of course I miss family and friends and our church and seeing everyone will be such a huge blessing. I really believe it will help sustain me and give me a deep emotional, mental, spiritual nourishment to keep on-going-on for the remainder of our two years here, especially when situations are hard.

And there are other silly little things I am excited about:

I am ashamed at how excited I am to eat, cook, and shop in American grocery stores and at Farmer's Markets. Especially for foods/spices we don't get here or are rare here: asparagus, raspberries, peaches, mixed salad greens, beets, a various array of cheeses, tofurkey, yogurt, ice cream, cilantro, mint, homegrown tomatoes, rhubarb, hummus, almond butter and cashew butter, salt and vinegar potato chips.

(I know. Quite the refined palate I have there!)

I am excited to go into a public library and to a large bookstore. And relish the copious amounts of books and nearly all of them are ones I could (entirely) comprehend--woohoo!

I am also excited to drive. To just get in a car and drive and enjoy the wide open spaces of America, the long stretches of farmland and corn fields of both NY and OH, and to enjoy being alone in nature--with no evidence of trash, other people, or other cars in sight. (This is a rarity in the densely overpopulated island of Java.) To walk and to hike and to jog in the woods. And take in the natural beauty--the landscapes of what is/may always feel like "home" to me.

And the culture--Although there are many parts of Indonesian & Javanese culture I much prefer to American culture, it is still my home culture. It's familiar to me. I know and understand about "stuff" there. And so, I am excited not to be a foreigner/the outsider for a short window of time. To not be stared at incessantly and called "bule" will be refreshing too.

(Although I am quite sure I will experience reverse-culture shock and will miss parts of our lives here in Indonesia that I cannot fathom/grasp right now.)

But--I am also quite surprised by how a large part of me is not looking forward to our home leave--at least as much I thought I would.

Don't get me wrong, most of me is thrilled to be going back home. But--there's still that part of me that hesitates.

Why?

Our cats.

Just kidding. (Well, partly. I am a bit embarrassed to admit how much I'll miss them. But, they are only one of the reasons.)

Home leave has always been a big dream, a wonderful respite, a breath of fresh air, something to look forward to, something reassuring me that "it is going to be okay" because only ____ months left before we're leave for our home leave.

Perhaps cuz it was something to look forward to, and knowing how fast it will go & it'll be over & I won't have it to look forward to anymore stinks. Or perhaps it's been a crutch that gets me through the more difficult times here--and with it gone, maybe I'll feel more acutely this long period of time just extending our in front of me--and I won't be able to see the end. (This sounds really dismal and dark. But contrary to how it sounds, I am happy here. Of course there are difficult moments but I am not miserable. I think it's more of an irrational fear and, as I said, a crutch that I feel I need even though 96% of the time, I don't.)

Perhaps part of it is facing some of the harsher facts: two of my elderly great aunts have passed away since I have been gone. I lost a dear friend/mentor, tragically and unexpectedly. Going home means confronting that grief that I have simultaneously tried to deal with and tried to put on hold here--knowing that I may not be able to fully process it until I am home among friends who are also grieving. And--Since being gone, my grandmother has also been diagnosed with stage 4 cancer and is undergoing chemo, but she's not feeling well and we're unsure at this point how the chemo's working. That'll be a big confrontation upon our arrival home--I'll see how the disease has affected her--body and spirit, my grandfather, her children, including my mother, and that'll be hard. As much of a blessing as it is to be able to go home now because of this, it is still going to be a very difficult time.

I think too, along the same lines, some of the hesitancy is just having to acknowledge how much change has taken place since we've been away. (And as my mother has pointed out--ever since I was a very little girl--"Danielle, you don't do well with change.")

True, true story.

I will have to address what has changed, who has changed, and (ultimately and perhaps most fearful for me) how much we have changed. No, scratch that--I think what will likely scare me the most is not knowing which "side" has changed more. And when things don't seem to "fit" for us....relationships with people or conversations with loved ones, or things we used to do or buy or enjoy--when or if it all seems so foreign, so unfamiliar, so "wrong" (for reasons of cost, or extravagance, or not appropriate for Javanese culture), I worry it'll send me for a downward spin. Experiencing an intense identity crisis.

Perhaps an identity crisis is part of the reverse cultural shock experience. Perhaps reverse cultural shock is a misnomer or at least deceptive. Because it makes the whole experience sound more distanced--oh, the issue is cultural differences--not me.

But really, how influenced are we by culture? Can we really ever separate ourselves from how culture impacts us/envelops us/binds us to it?

Often times we portray culture as this beautiful, beautiful thing--a rich part of our identity, lush with arts and language and festivals and food and all sorts of wonderful things about life.

But we are so entrapped by our culture--both the one we're living in and our mother culture. I feel like this is the deceptive part--that we can't separate out how much & in what ways culture influences us. And that downright terrifies me.

Perhaps that seems silly or irrational. Of course we can't know the impact larger things like that have on are persons & our lives.

Maybe what scares me most about that reality is the slap-in-face of how much it indicates we are not solely in control of ourselves. If culture has such a way to shape our realities and change our persons (either temporarily or forever), to me that's a huge loss of personal autonomy, of the decisions we make about what we do/who we are.

Not that I think this lack of control wasn't always there. But being confronted with that truth is more stark, more shocking, and a heck-u-va lot more destabilizing to my confidence & my overall being.

I have to chuckle at how contradictory it seems. After all, I am a follower of Christ. I believe in God's hand in my life--leading me and influencing me. But--I don't believe that humans are puppets of God, because I do believe we have free will. And maybe that's important--that we humans need to feel like we have free-will and autonomy--even when there are many other factors influencing who we are, where we are, what we're doing--at this exact point in time and all throughout our pasts and all into our futures--for the rest of our lives & until the day we die.

We all like to feel in control--even if or when we're not. And even if deep-down we all know that we're not.

But alas, it's coming--like the hide & seek game: "Ready or not."

And the other side is--I really believe that some of the most difficult or trying or destabilizing moments in our lives are some of the most character building ones, too. At least for me--from my experience(s) in my (almost) 28 years on this earth.

It's a difficult concession for a change-phobic person. But, I am thankful that although it sucks and is really hard for me at times:

I do see the beauty in change. Some of the best things in my life have happened as a result of changes: college, grad school, marriage, moving to Indonesia, becoming Christian & getting baptized, signing a contract with MCC for 3 years. Most of these changes scared me and I struggled with them. But had I not kept marching with them, had I just become instead paralyzed and too scared to do anything, I would not have moved forward. I wouldn't have grown. I wouldn't have developed. While life & others & opportunities continued to pass me by.

And change is an inevitable part of life. And it is what makes us keep moving on--it's a coping mechanism we adapt and it's a gift from God, because everything changes and will continue to change and we'll ceaselessly change. I think it's necessary & we all keep changing & keep moving forward, because if it didn't where would we be?

Stagnant. And that's not what life is. Or, at least in my opinion, what life should be. Bare minimum--it's not what I want MY life to be. And that's not the kind of person I want to be.

So, chin up-face forward Danielle.

Embrace change. It's going to happen anyway. Embrace challenges and culture shock and identity crises and de-stabilization and home leave and looonnggggg plane rides. It's going to happen anyway. And I'll get through it.

*note to self, note to self.

Amen: let it be so.

notion of compulsory procreation....

2011-05-27T13:18:00.003+07:00

I remember reading Adrienne Rich's piece on "Compulsive Heterosexuality" back when I was in college and thinking--that's brilliant! Go Rich!

Since I identify as a heterosexual, it's clearly not a personal struggle I was able to identify with. But for me, a heterosexual American woman who has been married for 6 years this July, living in Java, what I struggle with is the projected-on/at-me-notion of compulsory procreation. And even though I believe I hear it more because I live in Java, it surprises me at points that I still hear the same lines from friends, family and acquaintances back home too:

"Just wait 'til you have kids!"

"Do that now while you don't have kids"

"Get your travel and adventures out of the way now while you don't have kids."

etc, etc.

Perhaps this is my little taste of what it's like to be in the minority. After all, I'm heterosexual. I'm Christian. And where I come from all of the above classifies/entitles me as one with the power, privilege, arguably in many sectors as--the "norm." (Please note: I do not agree with these notions, but I do think that because of my religious, marital, and racial positions, I am advantaged as an American in ways my peers may not be. Because contrary to what some of my students here believe, discrimination still exists--big time--in America.)

However, one way I differ from the "norm" is in not desiring kids or ever (consciously) planning to have them.

It's true. I don't want kids. (Luckily for me I have a spouse who is on the same page as me.)

I sugar-coat it (read as: "lie a little bit") with many people here. Because I don't want to portray myself as the freak of nature/the abnormal. I usually say I want to wait and finish my doctorate before having kids. That's the culture of America, blah blah blah.

And I am fully aware that I may change my mind. I have changed enough over the last 8-10 years to know that great changes of heart are possible even when it seems totally impossible at the time.

However, I also think that I know myself pretty well. And I worry that if I were to have kids, now or anytime in the near future, I would have them for the total wrong reasons: because I should/it was expected of me/I accidentally got pregnant.

Another thing--I also know that having kids is a helluva lot of work. "All-consuming" and "they change everything" and "they take everything." (I've certainly heard my mother say this enough times.) And I will fully admit that I don't want that. I like my life as it is now.

And I have too much I want to do/experience. I don't see my opinions or desires changing anytime.

And perhaps that makes me selfish but I can't help but believe that it make me even more selfish to have children when they aren't wanted. Perhaps it's my culture but I believe all children should be deeply wanted even before conception and to end up with parents who don't want them is not fair to children. Life is hard enough as it is. Children are going to have a hell of a time in life: they should at least always have parents who wanted them/still want them.

I also find it highly problematic when I tell people I am not maternal and feel bored with children. And people respond with: But with your own you feel different.

I don't doubt that that is true for many people. But, here's the problematic, nagging question in mind--

What if I don't feel different after having my own? Is that really a gamble a person should take? Shouldn't all children be wanted/really desired initially?

I believe so.

Even greater than that is--what if I didn't feel differently? What about those women who are living that reality now?

Kasihan (poor/pity) them.

Because I think that in many ways our culture is not warm/receptive to women who find themselves in that situation.

I mean--yes, there are options of adoption and fostering. But if you are an educated, financially stable, married, person--it seems like you "should" want to keep your baby. You should want them and love them and desire them in your lives.

And with all of those perpetuated ideas out there, how awful it must be to be those women whose feelings do not fall under the umbrella of "normalcy." Especially women who are not monsters or cold people. They can love and feel. But they are just women who became mothers but are just not maternal. Who may--however much they don't want to--resent their babies and the burden they brought to their lives.

And then on top of all of that internal struggle, there is the guilt to top it off, with these presumptive statements or notions that this life (however much they be miserable) is normal. It's perfect now. It's complete. This is what you should want, what is expected in life.

I can't even imagine. My heart goes out to these kinds of women all over the globe. Because I think I may be one of them.

I am, admittedly, addicted to bad American primetime shows. And in one of them--Greys Anatomy--the season finale featured one of the characters getting pregnant on accident. And explaining to her husband over and over again that she "didn't want it!" & "I don't want a baby!" I worry, oh so very deeply, that I would be like that.

Does that make me selfish? Abnormal? Unmaternal? Especially that my heart melts more with pictures of kittens on the internet than of babies? Perhaps for some people and in some cultures, mainly this one. But--I can deal with that.

At least it's all on me than on a vulnerable, innocent child added to that.

But then, on the other hand, I feel a bit defiant about this situation/reality.

I wholeheartedly believe that we all have different gifts, as it is written in the Bible. Some have the gift of teaching, of preaching, of healing, etc. We are not all meant to live the same life. We do not all have the same gifts.

I do not believe I am meant to be a parent.

Plus, and I'm sorry, but I really think there are enough people in this world. We are over-crowded as it is. I think about that a lot while living in Java: this tiny, gorgeous, but densely over-populated island. Why bring more children into this world? Why can't we all take a Christian or humanitarian perspective of just taking care of the ones that are already here? Or are we that insistent to produce ones that are products of love/intimacy and/or sexual chemistry/passion that share our DNA and look like us?

Let me stop right there. I am not advocating that people cease wanting children. Or cease procreating.

I think though that like the idea of compulsory heterosexuality, or the notions of the only true Americans being WASPs, notions of what is normal/expected need to be questioned and re-evaluated---and that includes the notion of compulsory procreation.

And I do think that there needs to be a greater respect for those adults and couples who make conscious decisions to remain child-less. They should not be regarded as abnormal, as merely just being lower on the stepping-ladder of a "normative life" and are just "not yet ready" to have their own. That it's "not time YET," with the obvious implication being that it will be there one day. And like we are all on the same path and the more mature, selfless or adult you become, then one day you will want to have a child/be ready for children.

Again, perhaps it is true for some people, but I don't think it necessarily can be said for everyone.

We are not all on the same path. Choosing not to have children does not make me less mature. Or less selfish. Or less normal.

I think the same sort of thing applies for those who consciously choose to remain single.

Compulsory expectations of what one's life should be/should entail are highly problematic. And while I think that most people would agree with that concept in theory, I think we all need to be (myself including) more careful about how our conversation tidbits reinforce the idea--however misguided and unintentional--of a normative life path.

The purported rapture...

2011-05-21T16:03:00.004+07:00

‎"This age continues until all these things take place...But the exact day and hour? No one knows that, not even heaven's angels, not even the Son. Only the Father knows. The Arrival of the Son of Man will take place in times like Noah's. Before the great flood everyone was carrying on as usual...They knew nothing—until the flood hit and swept everything away."
--Matthew 24:35-37

What I find interesting about recent claims of the rapture is not that people make them, but the people who are making them: Christians/those who supposedly believe the Bible as the word of God, are the ones making these declarations.

But then, perhaps I'm just being silly. After all, how many times (presently and all throughout history) have we Christians selectively chosen which parts of the Bible we'd believe and which parts could be reappropriated for our own purposes/whims?

I don't feign immunity.

sigh...

the world o'stuff/technology/entertainment

2011-05-20T21:09:00.002+07:00

I often reflect on how lucky I am to be a "missionary" (a term I find highly problematic and frequently use "international Christian service worker" instead). I know that I enjoy many advantages as an MCC worker in the 21st century that many of my predecessors were not able to enjoy.

Mainly: the benefits technology.

I often marvel at the experiences of MCCers even from only 20 years ago (say nothing about those 60+ years ago) with only telephoning their families once a year and exchanging letters perhaps once every 1 1/2-2 months, if all went smoothly.

Compare that with daily emails, daily facebook communication, weekly (or more frequent) skype and/or telephone calls, post mail that usually arrives within 2 weeks time.

The difference: mind-bogging.

I also marvel sometimes at just how much stuff/news/updates I can know because of technology. Just because of facebook.

My mother's frequently in awe that I inform her of news happening in the little four-cornered village where I grew up/she still lives before she hears it. And I (literally) reside on the other side of the world. All because I am an avid (read as: obsessed) facebooker.

It is pretty incredible.

And in many ways I am so, so thankful for this technology. I think about all the ways it has kept me from being "left out." I can still have meaningful and immediate conversations with friends and family from back home. Also, at times when death, illness or catastrophe strikes and I can know what happened right away, as if I were just down the street.

And thus, I usually don't feel like I live on the other side of the world--all because friends and family are so easily accessible through this little tv-like apparatus that hangs out on my desk.

However. (the big poetic but, if you will):

Lately I've been dwelling on the implications of this, mainly the (potential) negative ones. And here's the skinny of it:

I worry that I will "feel" prepared to go back to the US (either for our upcoming 2 month home leave and/or when we move home in 2013) and I will feel like either:
A-nothing has changed
or
B-I know everything already that has changed.

Perhaps I will know much of what has changed. But is that really the same thing as having been there? Of having first-hand experienced it?

Of course not. Of course there are crucial differences. And much has to be experienced. In person.

Although (says the incessant, annoying voice in my head): I worry that if I don't mentally prepare myself for all the changes then they will hit me even harder when we go home. (On the other hand, should I delude myself into thinking that mental prep--however well intended--can really compensate?)

The other big limiting part of technology is how much time it takes me away from people & life here, from making friends and building relationships and having conversations, from enjoying nature and having quiet meditation time, from praying and resting, walking and exercising--other ways I could be a healthier, more well-rounded individual.

Because for all of technology's benefits, it has the potential to gobble up oodles and oodles of time, often without me being aware of it.

And also--admittedly--because I don't exercise enough self-control. I am very easily distracted by reading facebook statuses and looking at friends' photo albums and reading their profile pages, browsing people's blogs, reading the terrible yahoo news' headlines, etc, etc.

Often when I realize how much time has passed I am shocked, saddened, irritated at myself.

What else/more productive things could I have done with that time? (I used to feel that way when the Wii would keep track of how many hours per day we had played games. As cool as that feature is, I so did not want to know that number. Embarrassing.)

This time wasted especially bothers me as I consider all that I want to do, but never really end up doing. How come I can never seem to make time for it all?

Why?

Here's the answer:

Internet. Facebook. Video games. Reruns of favorite television shows.
Groan.

And you know, it's all just so horribly ironic. Because one of the things that has struck me about many of the Indonesian houses we've visited is the limited stuff they have, especially related to entertainment. (television, movies, music, books, dvds, internet, etc)

I confess I have often felt very sad for children who don't have stuff: bookshelves of books or games or movies or music. I often mourn over how limited people are if they can't (or aren't comfortable) use the internet. Just because of all the information and education and resources and networking it has available.

I still feel that way a bit, and likely always will. It is too ingrained in me, from my cultural point of view. To who I am. To what I value. (While realizing this is incredibly ethno-and-self-centric.)

And-again--technology. Stuff.

And where there comes stuff and technology, there will be distractions.

Do people here really need more stuff distracting them from other people? other matters of humanity? in essence, more important things?

I don't know the answer.

But I frequently feel quite confident I don't need any more of these technological distractions.

Because the truth of the matter is--I don't relax very well as it is. Sure, I like to think I do because I compare myself with other Americans who can't just disengage and do non-work-related stuff during their vacations. I can.

But the missing piece of that is--I still need to keep busy, even during breaks. I just do it in different ways.

I (have to) read. Or write letters. Or swim. Or eat. Or if I am allowing myself to just think and daydream--I am usually daydreaming about something (usually something to be done).

I very rarely can just BE. (Though believe me, I have tried to take that lesson from Eckhart Tolle.)

Occasionally--I can. It's usually when I am totally relaxed and rested and in a lovely location (like on vacation in Bali or Gili Air). Or this happens on those rare occasions when I reach inner-calm and peace. Perhaps I am praying and feeling God's presence and relishing the moment (while also fretting about how it is fleeting). Sigh.

My point: I have often felt sorry for the lack of stuff/entertainment/technology/information many people here in Indonesia have due to lack of finances, resources, education, or any combination of the above.

But, today as I was trying to just BE, while sitting on the ground on our front porch watching one of those torrential tropical downpours, thinking about how rarely I do this/just sit outside and take it all in-God's beautiful, splendid creation--it suddenly hit me--

Who am I kidding? I bet lots of Indonesian people have it figured out, and are probably a lot better than I am with just BEing.

For as much as I value relationships and the idea of a close-knit community, like here in Java, where people in kampungs (little neighborhoods) go out jalan-jalaning (walking) every evening and just visiting their neighbors, I don't do that very well either. I realize just how much I'm exhausted by intense social interactions too--since moving to Indonesia. And I think what I consider to be intense socialization is often regarded as normal, everyday conversing here.

Perhaps I am too Western. I love people. I'm extro-verted. I love to talk. But I am also a product of my culture: I also love privacy and down time.

If that's not telling of just how much I don't fit in with this culture. I like to be alone. I want to spend a lot of time with Brandon. Just the two of us. And I like to do my own thing a lot--reading, writing letters, writing in my blog, browsing the internet, watching tv, playing games with Brandon, playing with our kitties, etc.

And I prefer to do these things rather than many other things, with people--not because I don't like people or because I am introverted/a loner (because most say the opposite about me), but because incessantly being around others (like so many Indonesians are here), frankly it just makes me feel tired, which---

Makes me feel like a huge hypocrite.

I could stand to practice a lot more of (what I'd like to think I) value: people.

Because in theory I love this part of Javanese (Indonesian?) culture: This group-focused, socializing, neighborly culture.

But it's very challenging for me too.

Today Brandon & I were talking about this and he asked me---

"Do you think if we lived here long enough we'd change/become accustomed to it? Or are just too Western or American--is too culturally ingrained into us/our being/who we are?"

Okay, the above are obviously in my words. Brandon was a heck-uva a lot more concise. :)

My answer: no idea.

I think we are both quite adaptable. I think we could get accustomed if we had to. I think, to a limited extent, we have.

But I am not entirely sure if that means that we've entirely changed. Or if--like so many other aspects of life here--we'd just acclimate ourselves to it. Grow to like it. Or grow not to be aware of what we'd prefer because it's just "the way it is here."

Can you ever really escape your culture? Or is it like one's mother tongue-will always hold some influence over you--in that you will always think/process/be the person you are from that cultural perspective? And you will just simply pick and choose whichever parts of new cultures you want to implement? Can you revise your "culture" so autonomously? Or are you victims, products of your culture, with your authority over it so, so limited?

Again: no answers. (Surely why I was meant to be a university professor & academic. I'm a heck-uva lot better at asking questions than at providing answers.)

It's just what struck me today: while I mostly rejoice that I live and serve in 2011 and have the internet for communicative purposes, I also marvel at the implications of it...and I question--am I really closer to people as a result? Or is it all a delusion? Is what I am really closer to: pictures of people's faces and words written in an electronic box?

And that-is a depressing, depressing thought.

A lovely vacation in Bali...and a happy, thankful homecoming to Java...

2011-05-16T10:25:00.001+07:00

We really did have a lovely vacation in Bali. Of the places in Bali & Lombok we have vacationed, I am most impressed with Sanur in Bali and Gili Air in Lombok. Truly lovely vacation destinations.

Sanur has a lovely beach. It is not very crowded and not very dirty, especially compared to Kuta. While people will ask you to buy things or if you want transport it is a lot less of a hassle as my experience in Senggigi or in Kuta. Relaxing and nice.

I guess if you're into surfing Sanur may not be as much of the place to go because the waves aren't really high like they are in Kuta. I heard it's because of the protection of the reef. The water is actually quite calm and in the morning it's nice for swimming in the ocean but by the afternoon the tide has gone out and it is not too deep. (I heard this makes it a popular spot for families with kids.)

We had a great time sitting on the beach and reading (a lot). I got quite freckled (my tan). We swam in the ocean. We watched the boats and the sun rise one morning (Sanur is supposed to have lovely sunrises over the ocean. Unfortunately the day was a bit cloudy but it was still beautiful.)

And we had a lovely time eating a lot of food we don't get the chance to here in Java. Bali--catering to tourists-has a lot of different varieties of restaurants. Brandon and I really enjoy variety of foods, so we had a total field day with this. We ate: Moroccan, Indian, Italian, Middle Eastern, Mexican, Thai, hippie-esque organic food, Japanese, classic-American-esque food like burgers and fries.

Holy yum.

Thankfully we walk a lot when we go to Sanur, otherwise I think I'd have gained about 15 pounds. Totally worth it though. (Which is also my attitude for our upcoming home leave to America. Normally this bothers me, but in this case---bring it on! I'm going to live it up! :) ) I have confidence if I do put on weight it'll come back off when we come back to Java. The real challenge will be keeping it off when we move back to the US permanently.

I am always so rejuvenated after our vacations. There are the points where I don't want to leave this little corner of paradise/escape from reality to go back to our normal life (read mostly as: limited food options! :) ) here on Java. But, there is also the part of me that knows this period of renewal & relaxation has made me a lot more excited and healthy and ready to go back.

Case in point: this time we even cut our vacation short to go back to Java. Part of it, admittedly, is that Bali is expensive and we have a home leave coming up that we'll also want to spend money during. But another part of it was that we were fortunate enough to have our retreat before our vacation in Sanur. We had planned to stay in Bali for three weeks total, but after 2 weeks, we decided that we were ready to go home.

I also missed my cats. More than I am comfortable expressing here. :)

I also am becoming increasingly more aware of how much like home Salatiga/Java/Indonesia feels to me. This is a bit strange considering how much we stick out like sore thumbs here...how much people stare at us...and how we are so quickly pegged as outsiders, as "bule," either with the stares, or the direct calling of us "bule." Or speaking to us in English, as little kids do: "hello mister!" (this is addressed to me too)

But, it's true. We do feel: betah. (word in Indonesian that means feels at home).

I thank God for this. There have been so many points in the acclimation process where I did not feel at home, where I felt completely lost...like the foreigner, the stranger, the one who would never fit in. And so it's a really nice feeling to be here and walk or bike or shop at the store down the street and to feel---ahh, I'm home.

I have spoken to other ex-pats living here who have not been able to feel this way, who constantly feel like outsiders. And I give thanks.

While it would be easy to toot by own horn and to claim this "betah" as an entirely personal achievement, I cannot.

I do realize it's probably a mixture of a bunch of things, but I am deeply grateful, because I know that I am blessed to be here in Indonesia. I know that it is providential we chose Indonesia:

We have a wonderful home, cats, a God-send of a pembantu/friend, friends and support from UKSW in the English department, rewarding & meaningful jobs, a wonderful MCC family & we are blessed to have the office right here in town so in case we need anything we have people who are willing, able, happy to help us. And the MCC office has a lovely library of fiction & non-fiction that always sends little thrills through me whenever I get to browse there.

In the past I have marveled at how much and in the perfect ways God has taken care of Brandon and I...during times in our lives where our paths were less clear, when we were younger and had less money and stability (read as: medical and dental insurance) and we were scared...I praise God He knew what we needed and answered our prayers...even with answers/in ways we did not think entirely appropriate, then it all came out in the end just how appropriate it all was, His plan, His perfect timing.

I often times have to chuckle at myself & at the ways I planned my life, the declarations that I made in the past about what I would for sure do/not do. And how opposite some of them have turned out. (I think that if I am chuckling at these now, I can only imagine what my Heavenly Father was/is doing...)

So you all can partake in the chuckling too, below are some of the most laughable ones:

I was never going to marry young. (married at 21)

I never was going to marry a bearded guy with long hair--ewww. (see below the pictures of my Jesus-y/John Lennon-looking husband)

I was never going to claim a denomination. (--proudly proclaimed this Mennonite)

I was never going to be able to serve with MCC like Brandon was suggesting for us, because I could never make a three year commitment. (says the person who just extended her contract for four years)

I was never going to be a teacher. Not for me! (says the lecturer--who just finished up her 9th semester of teaching.)

I was never going to travel in Asia. (Much less live in Asia. And yes, this included Indonesia.)

Who's laughing now?

I am glad God has a plan. I am glad that He is understanding that His children like to feel in control...even when they are so clearly misguided, misdirected, not seeing the whole big picture.

In short, I am glad that even though I (think I) have a good plan, that God doesn't listen to me. He doesn't go along with what I think I need...But that He still figures out a way to get through to me, to guide me in the right direction.

Go, God.

Amen.

ashamed to be a tourist in Bali...

2011-05-15T13:53:00.000+07:00

One of the most disturbing things that happened to us on our recent vacation in Sanur:

We were eating at an Indian restaurant in Sanur. The food, while not the most outstanding Indian cooking I've ever tasted, is still really yummy. Granted, they do do some rather interesting things with their curries (like put grapes in them, in lieu of raisins...which I think is an attempt to be fancy-schmancy since grapes do not usually grow here in Indonesia & consequently are imported & very expensive. But still--it is a bit strange to taste a red grape in your vegetable korma). However, the food is still yummy. We've gone there a total of four times over our two vacations in Sanur. So clearly, despite the surprising grapes, we're quite pleased with it.

On our second time there this time, we had just ordered when a fellow diner--sitting and eating alone--starting to mumble to himself, making disgruntled noises and comments under his breath. His exaggerated, begging-for-attention gestures were meant to display his unhappiness with the food.

When this "show" was over, he stood up to leave. (Thank God, I thought, finally some peace!) But then he proceeded to bellow from halfway across the restaurant to the cashier (to where the waiters stood):

"That was THE WORST meal I've had in Bali! Only FIVE pieces of lousy chicken in that dish!"

He proceeded his rant with other commentary such as:

"I asked to make it really hot. I didn't even break a sweat!"

"Hands down, the worst meal I've ever had in Bali." (and repeat. and repeat. and repeat).

(Yes, he did sound like a malfunctioning record.)

This charade and diatribe continued for perhaps 10 minutes. All the while I heard very little from the waiters. Granted, Indonesians often speak very softly, sometimes because of limited confidence in their English language abilities, sometimes--like in Java--it is considered to be more polite, and in the face of such a conflict situation, and in this group-focused/save-face-for-others society, it seems less likely/acceptable to stick up for yourself even in the face of such verbal abuse.

So even though these poor folks were not responsible for the spiciness or the chicken-to-sauce ratio of this man's dinner, they stood and patiently listened while he spouted off, all the while resembling a spoiled toddler who did not get his way.

He did apologize once--turning to us, the only other diners in the restaurant, apparently for interrupting our dinner. (I couldn't help but think--why are we worthy of apology but they are not? Is it because of our wealth? status as fellow tourists? white privilege? all of the above?)

(Hopefully) Needless to say, Brandon and I were quite horrified at this man's attitude and behavior. I was doing my best to remain calm. I tried to avert eye contact and literally had to clench my muscles and jaw together to keep from exploding my own verbal diarrhea.

And so, when he sought us out via his voice/eye-contact, we disengaged. I didn't want to confirm his behavior/actions. I also worried I would not act very Christ-like if I were to have direct interaction with this man.

(Please note: I am not necessarily proud of the way I handled this. I am merely relaying what happened & why I did what I did--in the heat o'the moment. But know, I wish that I was quicker with my tongue, less likely to cower in the face of social awkwardness and tension, that I had a better idea of how to lovingly respond to people who are acting so horrifically. At these points I am so emotional myself, I end up frozen, or paralyzed, unable to think or act rationally.)

I frequently replay these situations in my head and insert the bitter, biting remarks I've since thought of & could make. Complete with snarky comments: "You somehow managed to finish your food, so it must not have been so terrible; You don't look like your starving to me, I think you'll be just fine; Have you ever had Indian food? It is mostly sauce and limited chicken not like our crazy western meat portions;"

God, grant me the kindness and love of Jesus, for I do not always think/respond/act in ways worthy of a follower of Christ.

After he commenced with his ranting, he finally acknowledged his bill (which he had all-the-while been holding in his hand). He made another exaggerated show of evaluating the price of his dinner and then informing the wait-staff that he'd only give him "so much" (while the bill was in fact so-much higher.)

Alas, after what felt like an eternity, he finally vacated the restaurant (still mumbling to himself in just-an-audible-enough tone about his terrible dinner).

Once he exited, it felt like the whole restaurant breathed a sigh of relief, the waiters and us. The air was calmer, at peace.

For me though, this big "whew" of serenity lasted only a minute. I just couldn't stop thinking about how awful I felt for these waiters. How embarrassed I was to be clumped in the same group--of "tourists" with this man & others like him. How I felt the waiters deserved an apology. I needed them to know I was sorry, that I didn't think it was right how he had acted or what they had to endure--at least in a manner like that.

I got up and went to apologize to these nervous-looking Balinese waitresses. I spoke in English. (In hindsight, I think I should have spoken in Indonesian. I could have but I meant so heartfelt and genuine about what I was saying that what came out was English.) They didn't seem to understand me. So I repeated it in English--slower and trying to use more simple vocabulary.

I still don't know if they understood what I was saying. But I hope that they understood that, on behalf of that man and other tourists like him, I was sorry. That I didn't agree or think it right how he acted...I just had to show some kindness to them, to regard them as people with feelings because I felt like their previous interaction with a tourist was so de-humanizing.

I love Bali. I love to go their on vacation. It is a beautiful place. I enjoy participating & helping their economy. But, at points like this, I hate to be a tourist. I hate that title and all that it represents...who it associates me with...

After my apology to the staff, I tried to enjoy my dinner. It was hard. I couldn't stop thinking about the man and every time the staff came to assist us in some way, I tried to convey my appreciation and display kindness toward them--in the form of smiles or thank yous, or assuring them the food was good, etc.

Of course it didn't feel like enough. It wasn't. I don't know how it could be.

I have visions of myself when I am older, wiser, more faithful, that I will have more maturity and love and kindness and wisdom and quickness to respond to these situations in Christ-like ways.

Now though, in the heat of these moments, I worry that I would respond bitterly and angrily. That I would only serve to fuel the tension with my biting words. Or, I feel incapable of uttering words. Emotions take over so strongly and I am incapable or articulating, in my head, or aloud, the words needed to convey such strong emotions. (Humbling moments for an English-major!)

I have had interactions with these kinds of diners in America too. And I have sat alongside people who've acted this way. And in the past, it has only infuriated me.

I was enraged this time too. I haven't reached the proper Zen-like-state not to be.

But, I am thankful that in the midst of this man's charade, there was a realization there never used to be in these kinds of moments...there was a sadness, pity, sorriness, love, that I felt.

Someone who throws such a fit over one meal seems unstable or unwell to me:

-What has happened to him/is happening in his life so that a meal means so much?
--Or that it could elicit such anger and such a coldness to treat other people as so inferior or so unworthy of kindness or consideration?
--Is it a lack of being able to sympathize with others' lives?
--Is it a lack of education? A lack of heart or faith?
--Does it speak of someone's unwell mental state? Do they feel such a limited control/power over their own lives, actions, what happens or will happen, that acting out badly makes them feel in control and in power?
--Do these waiters serve as scapegoats or whipping boys, if you will, of greater frustrations that are occurring in this man's life that he feels powerless to address. But verbally attacking Balinese waiters over one meal in a tourist-area in a developing country (where many local people could not afford to eat such a meal) makes him feel more empowered, stronger, more important, braver?
--Is food really that important to him (and others so not) that this is deemed acceptable in his opinion?
--Or is he that emotion-driven that he acts before considering his actions and implications of them?

I don't know the answers, which one(s) it is. I won't pretend/profess to.

Although I would venture to guess that his anger is not only tied to food, and that it does not solely originate from inadequate meals.

And as such, in addition to being an aggravating man, he also struck me as a very sad man. Someone who could afford to be vacationing in this beautiful, relaxing, paradise, eating these (comparatively) expensive lovely meals, and yet, chose to be so miserable over one meal.

God help him.

God help the waiters who must endure this treatment, over which they are not at fault and over which they have no power to change the condition of the food, and likely their choice to work there.

God help us, the fellow diners, to know better, more loving ways of addressing these kinds of situations.

Amen.

yummm

2011-05-10T21:41:00.000+07:00

God's gifts: therapuetic strategies for life

2011-05-10T21:19:00.003+07:00

"Tears don't hurt like the ache does."

That quote is from one of my favorite movies, ever since I was a little girl, "Anne of Green Gables."

Anne says it to Marilla after Matthew dies--I always cried at that part.
Ok--ok, I still do.

Today has been a difficult day. I remembered this quote and it couldn't have seemed more true...or more relevant.

Grief is hard because it is as unpredictable as inclement weather--or a choppy sea, before the storm--the waves that come along so suddenly and completely knock you off your feet--until your whole foundation gives way and yes-you come a'crashing down--but even more than being floored is the lack of reasonable/fair warning.

A little prep time before it happens...please.

At least for me lately in my experience, it feels like--

Whew! And I'm down. Floored. Even more than that--below the floor:

Basement-ed. Six-feet-undered...that is such a terrible pun. But I assure you I wasn't planning it.

And to quote another favorite childhood book ("You Shouldn't Have to Say Good-bye" by Patricia Hermes):

"What we're going through stinks. It just plain stinks."

A-freakin-men, sister.

She was talking about losing a loved one because of cancer, but I think the loss of any loved one...saying such a permanent-good-bye (even if you are a believer in the afterlife--permanent for the duration of this lifetime-at least), regardless of the condition, stinks.

A Lot.

But, the tears do help. I have heard them described many times before as a sweet release. So true. I couldn't agree more.

I believe real crying--like the deep, uncontrollable, whole-body, mind and soul kinda weeping--is a beautiful gift from God.

Likewise with deep-belly-laughter...the kind of simple, abounding-joy kind of laughter that causes you to hold your stomach--as it cramps from the extensive ab-work-out, with the tears dripping from your face, while your cheeks feel strained and stretched from beaming for so long.

Truly signs that God exists and that S/He loves us.

The therapies S/he has given us--coping mechanisms for dealing with this sucky, horrific, breathtakingly, amazing life--overwhelm me as much as all the intense emotions of life...

Because as challenging as the last couple of days have been, they have also been filled with signs of God's present: robust feelings of love, His presence, Christ-like peace...it has been not-worldly--when I am alone and hurting and feeling like He has wrapped His loving Fatherly arms around me in a permanent embrace deep within me--that He is holding on and refusing to let go, while also carrying me--not just my physical body but whole self--heart, soul, spirit--entire being...the sustain me--these God-hugs I've been blessed with lately.

Maybe it sounds silly, but it's actually been extremely beautiful.

I have always been an affectionate person. And I have always loved hugs.

My mom, on the other hand, has told me ever since I was a little girl, she is not a hugger.

Now to her credit, she did hug me. I do not think I was starved for affection, but I was always the opposite kind of person---I could never get enough of hugs. I never want to be the first one to pull away from hugs. I want to be permanently wrapped in a warm, safe, embrace of someone who loves me and I love them.

I have spent my whole life feeling this way--for as long as I can remember.

(Thankfully I married "a hugger.")

But, I have recently been reminded of my God--who loves me more than anyone else does or can...the One who can offer me all I lack and am missing--even hugs.

There's still that gnawing ache, but hugs, tears, laughter, and prayers and love and support from my amazing friends and family both here and far--they all help. They serve to fill in the crater-like hole.

While they'll never fill it up completely, or in the exact right way that that person did, it all still helps.

Grief. Coping. Therapeutic strategies/Heavenly gifts. Continuing to breathe. Waking up in the morning and moving, still getting up out of bed, rather than resuming the fetal position and remaining in bed--hiding under the covers. Overwhelmed by the pain. Overwhelmed by love:

Life.

Thank you, God.

besides the ocean, the reason why we go to Bali...

2011-05-10T21:19:00.002+07:00

2011-05-10T20:52:00.000+07:00

2011-05-10T20:42:00.000+07:00

2011-05-10T20:32:00.000+07:00

2011-05-10T20:26:00.000+07:00

2011-05-10T20:20:00.000+07:00

more from Bedugul...

2011-05-10T20:15:00.000+07:00

Bedugul, Bali

2011-05-10T20:11:00.000+07:00

2011-05-10T20:09:00.000+07:00

my absense from blogging....

2011-05-10T20:06:00.000+07:00

Excuses for the extended period of absence:
--craziness of the end of the semester
--rush to finish our grades early to be done before our annual MCC retreat
--annual retreat
--vacation in Bali

It has been quite the whirlwind, and--at least since finishing the first two--a lot of fun.

And now it's back to the pedantic--meetings with students and faculty members, reading theses, and planning for our upcoming home leave to America. (June 20-August 20).

It will take awhile to catch up on the blog--but I have many anecdotes I'm looking forward to sharing. But for the time being I will just post some pictures and ponder all I have to share.

Because now, I am mentally and emotionally exhausted. It's been quite the overwhelming time lately--but I'm getting ahead of myself. I'll explain more later.

In the meantime, blessings to you all--friends, family, readers...

2011-05-10T20:01:00.001+07:00

2011-05-10T19:56:00.000+07:00

2011-05-10T19:50:00.000+07:00

I fell in love with the Sanur sky

2011-05-10T14:58:00.000+07:00

more from Sanur...

2011-05-10T14:48:00.000+07:00

sneak peeks: our vacation & from the beach in Sanur

2011-05-10T14:38:00.002+07:00

blogging: what the heck's the purpose?

2011-04-14T10:49:00.001+07:00

The desire to be published? Iya.
But yet the fear of rejection? Indubitably.
Narcissism? Undoubtedly.

One of my favorite movies as of late is Julie & Julia. I don't think it's speculator, but it has food, blogging, Amy Adams, and Meryl Streep---all of of which I like. And while I don't think it should add to AFI's list of top 100 movies of all time, I enjoy watching it. It makes me happy. And more relevantly, there is a quote Amy Adam's character, Julie Powell makes that I think is true:

"What do you think a blog is? It's me, me, me!"

I think it's true. Perhaps some aren't. But I think the vast majority of them are. Even if they don't want to be. Even if they try not to be. And even if they pretend not to be.

I feel it only fair to add that disclaimer here: I don't claim that my blog is any different.

I am not able to give a very holistic or unbiased representation of what is happening in Indonesia, or even in Salatiga, and I won't try to pretend to. Even if that were my mission with this, I know I wouldn't be able to. Not with who I am, what I know about Indonesia, nor with what my work position here allows.

Writing for me is therapeutic. I write as a way to process and this blog also functions as an online journal for me so when Brandon & I move back to the US, I will have some record of my experiences here.

I opened this blog up to the public in case friends and family wanted to read it from back home. I am happy if they do, happy if they want to, but I don't expect them to. As my grandmother pointed out, I write a lot (read as: a polite way of saying too much). Another friend pointed out, I don't post enough pictures.

Perhaps both are true. But this blog is my therapy. It's how I cope with cross-cultural differences and culture shock and my experiences.

If public readers are hoping to find a blog focused on issues in Salatiga & about Indonesia & entirely focused on Javanese culture and the Indonesian residents and their stories, kindly move along. That isn't this kind of blog.

Selfish? Perhaps. But frankly, this blog is part of my worker renewal my therapy. It helps really helps me. I write for my own purposes, not to please others. And if people happen to enjoy reading it and want to, so be it. If they hate it? Well, that's the wonderful thing: you can move along. This isn't assigned reading. You have the choice to skim, to choose something else to read.

But I don't think my choice to write therapeutically is entirely selfish. Because if it really does help me, which it does, then in the long run it will help other people--through our relationships. Think: my marriage, my friendships, my work relationships, my productivity---all of which involve other people. So while superficially I can understand if it seems self-centered, it is not merely self-serving.

So, to come full-circle, what exactly is the point of blogging? Many, many different reasons. This one has a good dose of narcissism and while that would normally bother me if present in (other aspects of) my life, not here. Not now.

Some things you do for yourself. For your health. For your own sanity. For your own happiness.

Hence: this blog's purpose.

rainy comfort....

2011-04-13T13:18:00.000+07:00

When I was in college I had a friend/acquaintance, she was from Seattle. And she loved the rain. Anytime it rained she would smile and look genuinely happy. She said she loved when it rained and wished it would do so more often in Ohio.

I was puzzled by this. Okay, that's the polite, discreet way of putting it. Really, I was amazed and thought her quite bizarre. Really? Someone enjoys the rain that much? And wants a lot of it? It makes them THAT happy? What is she---nuts?!?!

I just couldn't understand how one could really enjoy the rain. Frankly, rainy weather was usually a pain in the arse for me: you had to worry about umbrellas, it was harder to enjoy being outside, it was harder to keep dry, etc. And with the rain comes mud. Ugh. The rain was just not appealing to me. To me, it was always the yucky precursor to the lovely spring with flowers and color and bloom. I simply could not understand her affinity for the rain.

So, yesterday--it was much to my surprise when another ex-pat asked me what I thought of the rain here in Indonesia. And I found myself answering:

"I don't mind it. I kinda like it. It's comforting."

I recognized the look I got in return. I expect it was something akin to how I used to look at my college friend. But, most surprising was that what I said was the truth.

I really have come to enjoy the rain here in Salatiga.

That doesn't mean that I don't get irritated by it sometimes. I do sometimes think--"why won't it just stop raining?!?! I want to go home!"

And it's true I get sick of getting wet, usually because I have forgotten my rain suit (yes: I have not only a poncho or a rain jacket, but when you live in the tropics during the rainy season and you bike everywhere, rain pants are also necessary!). I get tired of things being damp and moist with the humidity usually around 100%. I get tired of our spices and books molding. I am not a fan when the mold grows on the walls. When it takes forever for our clothes to dry on the clothes line, I am less than thrilled. And when I feel trapped indoors when I've finally found a free minute to go for a walk, I am unamused.

But---and this but counts for a lot--I like the feeling of the rain. Perhaps I recognize that there are few seasons here--rainy and dry are it. And so some variation from the hot, dryness is nice. Perhaps it makes it feel a bit like spring and the coldness from the rain is the closest thing we get to winter.

At those rainy points I like to curl up in my sweats with a nice cup of green tea or put a pot of coffee on. I like to take out the book I'm reading or turn on an episode of a favorite tv show and just relish being indoors. I love to glance over to a chair and see our kitties curled up in one big blob--where you can't tell where one furball ends and another begins. They look so comfortable and warm and relaxed and happy. And then when you walk over and pet them, they start to purr and yawn, then they open their heavy-looking eyes, only to once again droop and shut, as they drift back to sleep.

Perhaps some of why I like the rain is because this semester we've just been so busy. And those moments of respite are few and so divine that I really do cherish them. Perhaps it's a false sense but sometimes I feel like when it is raining it is an excuse to rest, not go out, and enjoy being dry and cozy and warm inside.

Maybe it's because as crappy as it is to get wet, it is also so nice to come home and get out of the soaked clothes, to dry off and either take a hot shower or jump right into nice warm sweats. The feeling of comfort of dry clothing next on your cold, freshly dried legs is so refreshing. It reminds me of when I was a little kid and I'd get out of my swimming lessons and take out the huge, warm, beach towel and once I dried off--that feeling when I got into dried clothes after having just been so wet---ahh, a sensation just so comforting, I really don't know how to describe it. There's nothing else like it.

And the rainy season brings me that comfort.

I also sometimes think you know in the US the rain always seemed to be so temporary, so unfitting, but here it seems more natural. More normal...it seems to cocok (=go with the situation/be appropriate/is suitable). And there is a comfort, a naturalness, an ease, in that.

I surprise myself, but I do really, really enjoy the rain of Indonesia.

chilled...

2011-04-01T08:46:00.001+07:00

Well, it has happened. We have clearly adjusted to tropical weather.

Because lately Brandon & I have been cold.

I am aware of how ridiculous this sounds--as my family and friends from back home still have snow and snow days.

But there are plenty of points lately where we have felt freezing!

Which is pretty ironic.

I remember when we first moved here. We had some friends who were so genuinely concerned for us riding in the cool night air that they offered to let us borrow their "winter" jackets in order to "keep warm." (The weather was still summer-like by my Western NY standards).

I chuckled to myself and afterwards, assuring them that we were fine. But thanking them for their concern.

Who's chuckling now?

I guarantee you it's not me as I curl up in my thick hooded sweatshit and cozy sweatpants, craving ronde and other warm beverages.

The weather in Indonesia, I keep hearing is "aneh" (strange) or "ekstrim" (extreme). This is partly due to "tidak ada musim kemarau tahun ini" (there wasn't a dry season this year). This means that it rained so much and so often that it did not feel like there was really a dry season. (Indonesia supposedly has 6 months of dry season and 6 months of rainy season.)

I believe this difference can be attributed to climate change.

I feel badly for the farmers. Combined with the odd weather and the destruction from Mount Merapi (the volcano), Central Java's produce supply has suffered...costs of nearly all vegetables (really most day-to-day kitchen supplies) have gone up. So both consumers pay higher prices...and the weather (clearly being beyond the farmer's control), undoubtedly makes life very difficult for them too.

It's especially sad to me that there are fruits that have significantly decreased or not appeared at all this year.

The season for rambutan, durian, avocadoes, Jeruk bali (a huge sweet grapefruit-citrus fruit) seems significantly shorter. And there were not as many of these fruits available, compared to normally.

And I have yet to see mangosteens (my favorite fruit here; this devastates me) and duku and langsap.

Anyway, I digress. (Always comes back to food though, with me!:)

Clearly, tropical weather (even at its most normal) is strange for me. I keep wondering when all four seasons will start their rotation. As nonsensical as I know that sounds, it is odd not to have the seasons when it's all you've known your entire life.

But even I know that there are differences in the weather this year. I know that in the morning the cicadas sound and the sun is hot and it feels like the dry season has arrived. And yet, in the evening, it may just start pouring down rain. And not stop for hours. And the rain is quite cold. And this drops the temperature and gives a chilled, damp feeling to the air.

As I said, this is all still very new to me. But even to me this weather seems strange and unpredictable--kind of like mother nature can't make up her mind what she wants to do.

So, in the meantime, I'll curl up in my thick, wool socks (one of the many pairs I brought from the US--clearly I had no idea how to pack when moving to a tropical nation), thick sweatshirts and relish my cup of hot tea.

And while I know others will roll their eyes at this, given that we are--ya know--living in tropical Indonesia, the truth is:

I AM cold.

Though I take solace in knowing I'm not alone:

Last night, Brandon, while searching for his thick, hooded sweatshit, said-- "It's so cold out! I think it's going to snow!"

:)

Well, Maybe not.

Although I wonder if people would take the climate change/cuaca ekstrim more seriously if it did.

In the meantime, I will mourn the absence of mangosteens, hide under warmth of blankets, and (inevitably) suffer through the teasing that I'm sure will ensue from this blog.

:)

Dehumanizing colonialist attitudes still prevail in Indonesia...and the confession of this bule...

2011-03-26T11:33:00.001+07:00

I hesitated over whether or not to include this in my public blog. I already wrote about it in my private one, but wasn't sure if it would be appropriate (or if I could be pleasant enough). In manner of full disclosure, I was also embarrassed too. At my lack of reaction and protest.

But I'm getting ahead of myself.

Last weekend Brandon and I went on a mini-getaway. It is getting to be that crazy time of the semester and so we decided to do a quick 24 hour getaway. We went to a hotel we really enjoy in Solo that has a very nice pool and is relaxing and beautiful. And we went out to eat at our favorite Italian restaurant, O Solo Mio, twice. It was lovely and relaxing.

This restaurant also has a stellar breakfast buffet. Always something to look forward to--even me, who is not usually a huge breakfast person. But we always make it a point to get up for the breakfast.

This time the hotel was particularly crowded. The day before there was a wedding so there were likely wedding guests still there.

We managed to find a free table on our own but it wasn't long before another bule found us. He asked if he could sit down. Not wanting to be rude, but really wanting to be left alone, Brandon invited him to sit.

We tried to make polite conversation.

We found out that he was a business man, a factory owner. The factory made furniture, using raw materials from Indonesia. He was from Australia (or New Zealand?) and made trips to Indonesia every few months to check up on his business.

Pretty much I did what I normally do in those situations: I ask questions about the person as a way of keeping up conversation and avoiding awkward silences.

And he was happy to pretty much just talk about himself.

I did a lot of head-nodding & listening about the story of his work.

And among telling me about employing Indonesia people (because the wages weren't--read as I don't have to pay them that--high) and using the resources available here (because they had good raw materials--screaming of exploitation), he also threw in this little gem:

"Well, you know the Indonesians are like children mentally. So you have to get them working together in a group in order to get something done."

Or something to that affect. I may have paraphrased the last part of that quotation, because after the first sentence I was mouth-gaping and seeing red.

Seriously?!!?!?!?

But yes, sadly and enraging enough, he was dead serious.

I could not believe what I hearing.

But then on the other hand, I could. From the moment this guy sat down he cast off this air about him. I commented on this vibe to Brandon--how he carried himself and the haughty way he spoke. I am often too quick to judge in these situations, labeling someone as pompous or arrogant before they have even uttered something. Merely because they have a different way of carrying and expressing themselves. That's not right of me.

I must admit though I was a bit happy and relieved that my first impressions of this man were not so dead wrong.

Now comes the most shameful part of this whole thing.

I did not say a word. (Neither did Brandon--but he had an excuse. He did not hear this. He had gone to get some more bread pudding.)

My jaw dropped, I know that. My eyes bugged out. At first, I just could not comprehend what I had just heard. My mind did not compute. I could not believe he would make such an ignorant statement.

And then my eyes narrowed, and my emotions built up and I fumed. I had no words that I could formulate. I was just raging inside.

I think my eyes belied my emotions. Since he quickly changed the subject.

And after he did, I still felt in a state of just complete bafflement and utter dismay. I was in a kind of dumb stupor. I was shocked. Frozen. And so angry. I wonder if I had uttered something if it would have been aggressive and mean and un-Christian.

I say the last sentence in retrospect. I know I wasn't capable of such thoughts at the time. And to be fully honest, perhaps I say this now to stroke my own ego, to try and make myself feel better.

Because I am deeply, deeply ashamed and angry at myself beyond belief that I said nothing. Nothing, to stand up for my Indonesian friends. To fight against such a horribly, stereotypical, colonialist mindset.

And in the year 2011. Really??!!?!?! I still can't believe it.

I suppose one could also argue, really in the year 2011? Aren't other white people going to stand up against these colonialist attitudes and verbally fight them?

Touche.

So what happened? I don't say these as excuses, because really I feel like there is no excuse for what I did. Or, perhaps a better way of putting it is what I did not do. But as a way of trying to explain to you all, and to process what happened:

I have never been good on my feet in those situations. I tend to freeze and just have a hard time articulating words. My emotions take control of me and I do a lot of feeling and a lot of thinking: "WHAT THE *@!&!!!" in my head. But I don't formulate sentences or coherence very well. I feel like it is one of those rare times where the words and quick reflex does not come for me.

I also think, selfishly, I just wanted to get the hell out of dodge. I did not want to engage in conversation with this man any longer than possible. (We were already wolfing down our breakfast as fast as possible to be able to leave!) This was our break and I just did not want to have to deal with this any longer than possible. Perhaps I have become too accustomed to this culture of "keep the harmony."

Perhaps at the time I didn't think I could possibly sway him or change his mind.

Perhaps I was just selfish enough to just want to go swimming and reading.

I don't know. It may be a combination of it all.

Please know, readers, I am not proud of this. On the contrary, I am deeply ashamed.

And sadly, this kind of thing happens often for me...When others make horrible, stereotypical, mean, perhaps dehumanizing, comments about someone because of their race, gender (even when it involves "my group"), sexuality, I don't always have a response. More often, I probably do not. I too often bite my tongue and swallow my rage. (And later vent to Brandon or whoever will listen.) At times like this, I feel incapable of talking, only feeling. And feeling infuriated.

I wish I was better about this. I wish I was better at being able to articulate my thoughts and rebuts in a direct, but fair way. I wish that I could respond (through my thoughts and my words) with Christian love of calling someone out but not tearing them down, (which is how I feel like they just did to a whole group of people different.)

It's easy enough to think that what I would have said to this man would not have made a darn bit of difference. And perhaps it would not have.

But what if it did? What if I was able to articulate something that made a difference? And I don't mean winning points for me because I was able to change and convert someone to a more humane way of thinking. No, I mean made a difference in the lives of his workers because he regarded them just as people with a different culture and way of doing things. Not as as "children mentally" with a "funny culture."

I think this is why this still bothers me.

And the most deeply disturbing is this: while I try to learn from these situations, I feel like they just happen again and again. With the same results.

I try to learn something that can be usefully applied to the next time. But when the next time comes, the same darn thing happens.

I need to learn how to pick my jaw up faster and to articulate my strong emotions into constructive thoughts and clear responses.

But I have no idea how. After the fact of course I have thought of dozens of replies. Some of them schnarky and just plain mean, like: "some of them may undoubtedly have a lack of funds to get an education to develop themselves and their ways of thinking, what is your excuse?". Some of them showing my sadness and anger and desperation for how he is regarding a whole country of people, and how he is undoubtedly treating them.

So, yeah. I do what I always do. I play the situation over again and again in my mind. Somehow hoping to rectify my inaction.

But it doesn't. I only pray that he will run into someone who will have the ability and the courage to say something to challenge his opinion about "all Indonesian people."

I pray that he may one day understand how deeply wrong, cruel, and problematic his beliefs are.

Perhaps it's a cop out. I know that. But really, what can I do now? All I can do is pray. And ask for forgiveness, on behalf of all Indonesians, especially those I've come to call friends.

kami memperpanjang kontrak kami (=we extended our contract!)

2011-03-26T10:31:00.000+07:00

So, I think that most people know this by now, but we have extended our contract with MCC by 1 year. So our contract is now a total of four years, which means we'll work here in Indonesia until the year 2013 and also that we get to go home for a two month home leave this summer.

We're pretty excited--about both the extension and the home leave.

I have felt pangs of homesickness in ways lately that I haven't since we first arrived. I think what the other MCCers said about "this being about the time where you really start to miss home & people from back home a lot." I totally concur, at least for my experience.

A few months ago before the new semester started, we were driving down the road in a higher elevation, on a newer road, and there were no other cars or people around (this is rare in our experience--living in a small city on Java where it is so densely populated, given the land mass.) And because we were at a higher elevation, looking around it just looked like PA or OH or NY with the kinds of trees and the lushness of the trees, and of course the air was a bit cooler, and we were riding in a car...all of it reminded me of being home.

And yes, it felt a bit twilight-zoney but the sudden realization of what it reminded me, of remembering what it felt like to be home, came with this flood of sadness and longing.

It was pretty intense. And I was pretty blown away by it. (Brandon experienced the same thing too.)

After all, I'm not someone who has always felt really strong attachment to where I come from. I am happy and excited to live outside of my home culture, much more than I was scared or nervous. So this really struck me.

I miss my home. In many ways. And for many different reasons: people, familiar culture, supermarkets, natural scenery, the familiar look and feel, the English spoken ubiquitously, food, etc.

I know I'll experience culture shock. I know there are lots of parts that I don't miss. Ways that I'll wish America was more like Indonesia in culture or what not.

But for now, I must say that I am really looking forward to our two month home leave.

I also hope and pray that after these two months I will feel refreshed and revitalized, not dreading coming back here, but excited to return to my other home, to serve and to work in the capacity God has planned for me.

impoliteness cross-cultures? who decides what is/is not polite? Problemizing continues....

2011-03-20T17:26:00.006+07:00

So, still thinking about how subjective, so culturally-dependent ideas of politeness are...so I thought I'd throw this in the mix.

Let's talk about what I've experienced here that would be considered "kurang sopan" (less polite) in America:

--It is considered EXTREMELY impolite to cut in line. I believe I've already mentioned this. Once. Or twice. Or a lot more.

--It is impolite to ask someone what something cost: clothes, meals, etc.

--It is impolite to ask someone how much money they make.

--It is impolite to ask someone how much money they pay someone or how much they have given someone.

(It is pretty much impolite to invade about money matters with people, with whom you don't know very well or are very close to. Even then, approach with caution.)

--It is impolite to ask couples what kind of birth control they use. (This would seem really bizarre to many Americans.)

--It is impolite to ask personal questions like "when will you have children." This is an invasion of privacy. And many American would likely consider it rude, too brave or straightforward, and frankly, "none of 'your' business. It is therefore, extremely impolite to pressure one about "hurry up and have kids." The only time this is done is among close friends and family. And even then, it does not always go over well.

--It is also extremely impolite to hound or bother people who are either not choosing to have children or can't have children. This is considered a very private matter and not opened for discussion among just any acquaintance, friend, person you meet on the street, etc. (Again, from what I've both heard and experienced in Indonesia, this is commonplace here.)

--It is impolite to call someone fat. Even if it is true. It is (or has become) taboo in America. It is extremely rude. Even if you don't call them "fat" to their face, it is rude. Even chunky or chubby. People will opt for "obese" which is a more polite term. Or "heavier set" which is more neutral. But I think it fair to say that many people, especially with people you don't know very well, do not go there about someone's weight.

--It may be considered rude to invade people's personal space. Especially among strangers or people you don't know very well. Even then, Americans tend to not be so comfortable with this. (I've had students--who I did not know--at the campus cafeteria sit down next to me when there were other tables open. This perhaps is not considered rude but it is less than polite. If you can give more space to someone, you usually do. Respect space and privacy.)

--It may be considered rude to visit someone who is sick. This is very different from Indonesian culture where it is a "thing" to visit someone who is sick. To show that you care, is what I've heard. But in America, unless you are seriously ill or seriously close to the patient (either a family member or a very close friend, and you have permission & know that it is okay) do you dare go to the hospital to visit a sick patient. Also, if a person is sick and resting at home, I know very few Americans (Read as: I've heard of this happening maybe three times.) who would go to visit a sick someone in their homes. Again: cultural value prevails: respect the privacy. Don't bother them.

-(This also pertains to when someone has a baby or someone dies in American culture. Unless you are a family member or a special friend in a special circumstance, you usually don't just go and drop in and visit people. For the birth of babies, you wait for your invitation or before you okay it with the parents. And for when someone passes away, you don't just go immediately to visit. You wait for the visiting hours or the funeral. (At most people usually will bake a casserole and just leave it or give it to the family of the deceased person and leave. You don't usually stick around. Also, you may call and express condolences and if there is anything you can do, but again that is if you are close to these people affected by the death.)

--It is considered impolite to honk the horn of a car without just reason. This is done a lot more selectively/rarely in America (than my experience tends to suggest it is done here in Indonesia). (Excluding huge traffic jams, perhaps ultra-congested cities, or special circumstances.) But everyday driving down the road, yeah. An American may think: "Hey, what's his/her problem?!!? How rude!"

I am sure that there are others I've forgotten. But these are the big ones that come to mind now.

Why do I write this? Who cares? You're in Indonesia, Danielle. Shouldn't you just adapt to the culture there?

Of course. I totally agree.

I am not deeply offended by these things when they happen. I have lived in Indonesia for over 1 1/2 years, and while I'm not yet fluent and I am still learning many new things everyday about the culture and life here, I am okay with these differences.

My point is that evaluating other cultures based on some universal idea of what is right or wrong is inappropriate.

Each culture may have "correct" or "more polite" ways of doing something. And similarly, they have ways of not doing things. Undoubtedly both are based from cultural values and other beliefs.

Therefore, let us all remember (I do not exclude myself, mind you) that when playing the role of the judge or the evaluator, someone is applying their own culture or mindset of what is considered "polite." They are using a standard used & appreciated in their own culture.

And this "others" the other culture. Since they are not allowed to be seen as neutral or interesting or unique as a culture in their own right, but are just compared to another culture, defined by what they are not.

And I just think that judgment is largely problematic, often accompanying it is marginalizing, "othering" and potentially mistreatment and pain.

An appeal to all of us, myself included, to always remember:

"The world in which you were born is just one model of reality. Other cultures are not failed attempts at being you; they are unique manifestations of the human spirit."
Wade Davis.

Amen.

unnaturally unmaternal...

2011-03-19T12:01:00.001+07:00

So, that's how I feel lately. I am not saying it is right to feel that way. Or that my self-identification is true. But that is how I feel.

Especially here, living in Indonesia, where the oh-so-common question is: when will you have children, especially after you have been married for 1 year. (And for us---to be celebrating our 6 year anniversary this July--yeah, completely unnatural here.)

We have to answer with, "belum." (Which I have talked about before means "not yet" in Indonesian, which is the polite way to respond to this question.) But in my head, I'm going--NO! NOT YET? THAT'S JUST SOMETHING WE'RE COACHED TO SAY. IF I COULD ANSWER HONESTLY WITHOUT FEELING CULTURALLY INAPPROPRIATE I'D SAY, GOD NO!

I just...don't have a desire to have children of my own.

Granted, of course that may change. Me/Myself/I has changed a lot in the past 5-10 years. But on the other hand, maybe it won't.

I have visions of myself as the fun, slightly kooky, childless aunt. (Which seems especially pertinent now, because I am about to become an aunt for the first time!) Sort like how Elizabeth Gilbert described it in her recent book, Committed. (I'd pull it out and insert the quote but alas, I've lent my copy to a friend.)

But as much I know this in my heart and in my mind, that it is okay not to have children...it still makes me feel a bit unnatural. A bit like a freak of nature sometimes.

Part of it may be living in this culture where the pressure to have kids is unbelievably strong. People don't just suggest or insinuate, but usually downright ask. Borderline demand.

(And I think: yikes, if I feel like this, kasihan--poor/pity--Indonesian women. Because I know that there are exceptions made for me because I am a foreigner, a westerner, a "career woman." And if I still feel pressure, I think: Geez. Wow. Yikes. No wonder many Indonesian women given in to the societal and/or family pressure to procreate.)

But, I can't blame it all on Indonesia. I have this wonderfully technological era to thank for it as well.

Allllllllllllll over facebook, my peers are procreating like it's a contagious disease. Popping out the babies left and right.

Sooooo many friends and acquaintances are having babies: People from high school, from college, from university, from other paths we've crossed in our lives. People a bit older than us, people our age, people younger than us, and even people muccccccccchhhh younger than us.

And, if I can be real, it freaks my sh*# out.

Maybe because it seems unreal. When did I become an adult? When did this start to be okay? I mean there were always the people who got pregnant before an opportune time. But since I have well moved into the stage of life where my peers are having planned babies (actually if I move out of denial completely, I think we've surpassed that by a few years, considering some of my friends are having baby #3 now.)

Perhaps this is my, what, quarter life crisis? 1/3 life crisis?

I feel confronted transition into adulthood. I feel like I was hesitating to take that jump by myself and so I feel...a little like that oh-so-popular-for-a-high-school-senior-song, Green Day "Time of Your Life." Where "Time Took you by the wrists, directed you where to go."

I feel like that. I resisted. But I was either led by the wrists, gently so that I didn't even know it was happening to me.

Or, at other points I feel like I have been pushed. Like that mean technique of getting children to learn how to swim: just push 'em in. To hell with coaxing and dealing with their fear.

Submerge! Splash!

But all of that aside, I just...don't feel that maternal pang. That urge, that need, to create my own child. To give birth. Or to have my own child (through adopting or fostering). To take care of someone and watch them grow and develop and love them and provide for them.

And I think...while I haven't experienced it, child-rearing I know is a helluva lotta work. And children should be wanted. Really wanted. They deserve that. And I, I don't really really want a kid. Like at all.

(Which is part of why I feel badly for mothers pressured into having babies. And, perhaps more importantly, what about their children? Poor things. Babies should be--initially--wanted and not just created because it is what "we are supposed to do" or "we were pressured into doing so." Or that we "later came around to them." Just my opinion.)

Like I said, I may change my mind. But maybe not. I have to wonder if I will...especially now as I have friends who were always adamantly on "my side" with the whole "nay/no thanks" to having kiddos. And they are making future plans to have one.

What?!!?

Maybe I'm not genetically pre-disposed for this.

I also think about that Bible verse:

"3 For by the grace given me I say to every one of you: Do not think of yourself more highly than you ought, but rather think of yourself with sober judgment, in accordance with the faith God has distributed to each of you. 4 For just as each of us has one body with many members, and these members do not all have the same function, 5 so in Christ we, though many, form one body, and each member belongs to all the others. 6 We have different gifts, according to the grace given to each of us. If your gift is prophesying, then prophesy in accordance with your[a] faith; 7 if it is serving, then serve; if it is teaching, then teach; 8 if it is to encourage, then give encouragement; if it is giving, then give generously; if it is to lead,[b] do it diligently; if it is to show mercy, do it cheerfully." ~Romans 3-8

Doesn't that seem to validate different gifts and therefore, different directions in life and choices about how we'll live? We are not all meant to be teachers. We are not all meant to be married. We are all not meant to be parents. We are not all meant to be preachers. We are not all meant to be moms.

I will pray about this, I'm sure for many years. I will allow God to mold me and change me. To change my heart. But now and anytime in the foreseeable future, I don't feel God's push to procreate.

And of course, at points I lack faith or understanding to know what God wants of me. And I fail to follow through at points.

But I do the best I can.

And I also compare this to our decision to move to Indonesia and to serve with MCC. I did feel God's push. And I responded. And it felt right.

I think sometimes intuition and what "feels right" does not only come from our selfish ambitions. But that it can also be the holy spirit at work within us.

Bottom line: I was created...my strange, kooky, dramatic self...by God. S/he knows me, and S/he has a plan for me. And the word of God recognizes differences in people's gifts and the choices they will make and the lives they will lead.

And so, if child-rearing is not in the cards for me, it's okay. And while I may feel contrary to this at times, I don't think it makes me unnatural either.

Because all jokes about my eccentricity aside, I am a child of God. I was made in God's image. And while sometimes that is humbling because I know I fall up terribly short of how someone should act in one who is created in God's image, it is also comforting.

God made me: so how can I be the unnatural freak I worry myself to be?

nggak bisa.

= I cannot.

Amen.

Revised dreams...and other ponderings...

2011-03-19T11:12:00.001+07:00

Sometimes when I stop and think to myself, how in the heck did I end up in Indonesia? And for FOUR years?

I have to chuckle to myself.

It was certainly not what my original plan/goal/dream was.

What was my original plan?

Well, depending on when you asked me, the answer would have been different. I've certainly changed a lot in the past 5-10 years. And more specifically, my goals and values have changed. (After all, if they had not, and if I had pursued my dreams and succeeded at them, I would be living the life of an actress, working as a drama therapist, being a famous author, etc. Depending on which dream of the past 5-10 years I went with.)

Do I care that this is not what my daily life looks like now? That these are not my daily activities? That I didn't follow those dreams?

Honestly? Sometimes.

And sometimes (because I am just oh-so-talented at it), I beat myself up because of that--that I'm not there (wherever "there" may be), doing those wonderful, amazing things (whatever "those things" may be).

But, I recognize several important things.

The first: I am still young. My life is not over. (Hopefully & God-willing--not even close) I can still pursue these things I may have foregone, or put on hold.

Second: I think it's all about your perspective. I think we sometimes negatively approach the way we think about unfulfilled dreams. Even the rhetoric we use tends to use negative, dismal words like we "failed" to meet our dreams. They were "unfulfilled" or "deferred." (No Hughes allusion, intended)

And in some cases, that negativity and dismal outlook may be warranted. But what about for other dreams, the ones that just changed or modified? How do we regard them? And how do we talk about them? Do we talk about them as unfulfilled way? As fallen short?

(Confession: I know I do sometimes!)

And if we do, (read as: "I do"), isn't that kind of depressing? And limiting?

I think it is. This is my revelation.

Dreams and goals and plans change. But it doesn't mean that they are ALL unfulfilled.

I think about how desperately I longed to be an actress because I loved performing and acting. And then, once I realize that that profession in itself would not fulfill me, I decided I'd become a drama therapist. (Which I still think is a pretty awesome profession, that and all the other artsy therapists: music and art included.) But then I realized I'd have to start from square 1 with psych courses, as I'd only taken Psych 101 and 102 in college. And also that from what I'd learned in those two courses (although I hear psych changes when you get to upper level courses), I didn't entirely dig the psychology aspect. Plus, it would be expensive to start from the beginning of a psych degree. And the whole thing was just a hunch. Is this really what I wanted to do?

In the process there somewhere too, I became a Christian. Made a vow to do some international service work. Was pretty anti-denominational (this is a topic for another blog post, for sure). Then I became a Mennonite. Heard and learned about MCC. Listened to Brandon & how he wanted to do MCC. Was scared. Didn't agree. Three years? Wayyy too long. Too scary. Kept attending church and praying and meeting people who had participated in MCC, met MCC people who served in Indonesia. The urge to do MCC, and to know to come to Indonesia, grew. In fact, it seemed providential and we felt urged by God to do this. I am comforted in thinking of it like that. Why? Because if I didn't, truthfully, it would just seem a little freaky, a little creepy, how that all happened. But again, another topic for another blog. :)

Okayyyy....the point Danielle, for God sakes, the point!!!!

(Hey readers, in my defense you were forewarned, the title, after all, is ponderings.)

The point is: After becoming Christian, and then Mennonite, and then learning about MCC and dedicating several years of my life to this work, my values have changed.

Perhaps my dreams are simply on the back burner now. Simmering like a good sauce until they become boiled down and rich and thick and delicious.

Maybe, to take that metaphor a bit further, the dreams started off as something separate, as different, separate ingredients. They were just tomatoes and herbs and garlic and onions. And now they have merged and melded. And they have become what they were really always meant to become: a delicious sauce. And it can be shared.

Perhaps that sounds too pre-destined for some of you.

Maybe it is, but it works for me.

And I think it is a lot more warm and fuzzy and happy of a thought than just thinking of my dreams as just unfulfilled. Or worse, as failed. Or even as belum (not yet) fulfilled. Becomes that terminology puts them in categories of black and white. They either ARE or they ARE NOT. No allowance for revision or changes.

And my dreams have changed. But I feel fulfilled now.

Yes, there are points were I think about how lovely it would be to work as a travel writer or to attend a world-famous culinary school & become a masterchef or to be a world-acclaimed, famous book writer or a celebrated London stage actress, but I also wonder sometimes if I would even be happy doing those things, as I am now, with who I am now.

I think there are parts I would enjoy, of course, as they involve doing things that I love. But would they fulfill me the same way that teaching does? Also is the imagined way they fulfill me in daydreams even realistic? Would it even happen like that--make me fulfilled me? Make me truly happy? (At least that's what the inner, devilish voice--or the angelic one, depending on your interpretation--taunts me with!)

Part of the problem I've always struggled with throughout my life is just picking one direction. I have many different interests and things I'd love to pursue. (I sometimes wish I had the cat's option of the nine lives.)

But since I am not a feline, can't I just revise them? And why can't I combine them? Heck, yeah, I think I should be able to! These are my dreams. Aren't I allowed to be the author?

In lieu of cooking for a world-famous restaurant, I cook for friends and make sweets for students as a way of bringing them pleasure and allowing for relationship-building over food (I consider this to be Jesus-y. He fed people.)

In lieu of traveling, I decided to move to, to live in, to try and immerse in Indonesia. Although I have been blessed to be able to do quite a bit of traveling. (Thank you MCC for recognizing the need for vacations and worker renewal.) In the past year and a half I've been able to travel to Lombok, the Gili islands, Bali, all over east & West & Central Java, Singapore and Malaysia. Not too shabby.

In lieu of my famous authorship, I blog. I like it. I'm okay with that. :) It makes me think of a quote from the movie, "Julie & Julia," when Julie's husband Eric says, "That's what's so great about blogs. You don't have to get published." True story.

Acting? Well, it's true I don't do conventional acting anymore. But everyday I teach, I believe I act. (Ever heard it's 90% presentation and 10% preparation to teach? I buy it.) I hope I've got the presentation part better because sometimes I am not as prepared as I'd like to be, especially this crazy semester. Sometimes before class it really does feel a bit like gearing up for a performance like I used to.

so, My Dreams? Revised.

Revised Dreams: Fulfilled. :)

Happiness and Purpose: There. They happened. When I didn't know they would. Or could. Not doing what I had originally planned to do.

I am blessed. And I am happy.

And because I like quotes, some thoughts on happiness and its meaning:

"Unhappiness is not knowing what we want and killing ourselves to get it."
~Don Herold

"The search for happiness is one of the chief sources of unhappiness."
~Eric Hoffer, The Passionate State of Mind, 1954

"Ask yourself whether you are happy and you cease to be so."
~John Stuart Mill, Autobiography, 1873

"My advice to you is not to inquire why or whither, but just enjoy your ice cream while it's on your plate."
~Thornton Wilder

If you ever find happiness by hunting for it, you will find it, as the old woman did her lost spectacles, safe on her own nose all the time.
~Josh Billings

Most of us believe in trying to make other people happy only if they can be happy in ways which we approve. ~Robert S. Lynd

The pursuit of happiness is a most ridiculous phrase: if you pursue happiness you'll never find it. ~C.P. Snow

My lesson: You will find happiness when you are not looking for it. You will revise your dreams when you do not know it or realize it. And sometimes that will be a good decision.

Sometimes unfulfilled dreams become new paths, that lead to fulfillment.

the perpetuated idea that central javanese are the politest indonesians...

2011-03-18T13:13:00.003+07:00

Since moving to Indonesia and settling here in Central Java, I have heard again and again from residents how central Javanese are the most polite--from both younger and older people alike.

Sometimes reasons or support is given. Sometimes they are not.

When reasons are given they tend to be like these, in my experience:

"People are very polite and friendly here because they smile at each other."

"We speak to people we meet on the road rather than just pass them by."

"If you don't greet people, you will be considered arrogant. People here aren't like that."

"Javanese people here are smooth. They are more fluent and more eloquent than in other places in Java or Indonesia."

"People here nod their heads at each other and say, "monggo."

I posted this idea on my facebook wall, hoping to get some responses because I wondered what other Indonesians, those outside of Central Java, and perhaps even moreso--those outside of Java.

How does it feel being told that you are less polite? Another constant reminder that you are always and forever compared to Java and Javanese standards?

Note: I have heard from other Indonesians that this is a significant issue in Indonesia: the idea that Java is "where it's happening." And It is true that Java is the most developed, most modern island in all of Indonesia. It was the first island to be developed. (It is also the most over-populated, most polluted one too.) But because of this: both in present day and throughout history, I have heard that there is a tendency of some Indonesians to experience and perpetuate the idea of "Javacentric-ness." Ie--it's really all about Java.

Now, most Indonesian people I know (both Javanese, Balinese, Biak, etc) are caring, wonderful people. And so I think that this potentially harmful, hurtful stereotype is not intentional. But I think that both from what I've experienced as well as what I've heard--this is just something that has been taught & perpetuated--the idea of seeing everything that is anything and everybody who is anybody as being right here, in Java. From Java. All about Java.

And from my experience, I would concur that many Central Javanese people are very polite. But, to say it so universally and without exception is problematic. Because, while I am not Indonesian, I have lived here for 1 1/2 years, and I can say that while I am often refreshed by the politeness of people from Central Java, I have also experienced some very "kurang sopan" treatment (or less polite) things from Central Javanese people too. (Qualification: by my standards of what is considered impolite.)

I also want to be careful with this post because I do think--as a general rule--that people here ARE very friendly. And I love it.

And I do recognize differences between here & American culture. And I am very grateful for this culture. I love walking down the street and having people respond to you and smile to you and nod their heads at you whenever you do first the same to them. (Or sometimes it happens simultaneously.) It really is a nice change from living in America where I think I had some neighbors I never made eye contact, although we passed each other on a regular basis.

But--of course some of the above statements and the overall, perpetuated idea that central Javanese are the politest is a problematic statement.

I also posted this on my facebook because I wanted to open up the topic for discussion. And I did get some responses. Mostly people qualifying that not all people are like this and confirming that it is indeed just a stereotype.

But I think that even more than seeing this as a stereotype, it should be considered: is this also ethnocentric?

And I think so.

After all, this kind of begs the questions: what does it mean to be polite? How do people show politeness and courtesy?

Clearly the standards of politeness are different between different cultures. (ie-what is polite in one culture is not polite in another and vice versa.)

So I think another issue to be raised from this is: is it allowable to apply one universal standard of politeness for all cultures?

Doesn't that seem to run counter to what we know about cross cultural awareness and sensitivities? That "they" (whoever "they" may be: be they from Papua, Sumatra, Zambia or Honduras) are not wrong, just different from us?

And different cultures may demonstrate their courtesy or politeness in different ways. Some through words, some through deeds, some through smiles and nods, some through recognizing privacy as important for people (ahemAMERICANS!: very much influenced by cultural values), while others recognize that sick people need visitors and support (AHEMINDONESIANS!-very much influenced by different--though not less polite--cultural values).

So who's the "wrong one?" And who's the impolite one?

Tidak ada (=there is none.)

Politeness is largely dependent on culture. And there is no right or wrong culture. And there are not right or wrong standards.

I mean, granted, it's never nice to kick or punch someone, spit in their face, or kill another person. But I think that exceeds what can be labeled as merely "impolite." Don't you?

Well, so what? One may ask. Who cares? Clearly stereotypes and ethnocentric attitudes & comments like these exist everywhere. Not just in Indonesia. (And believe me, I do NOT exclude America. We undoubtedly have our fair share of problematic statements and beliefs like these.)

But why do I care? Because I teach.

No cheesy play on teacher merchandise crap intended, but I really worry sometimes about my students who come from outside of Java. It must be a lonely existence sometimes...facing culture shock even though you're still in your own country, not speaking Javanese, being perhaps considered less polite when perhaps your culture demonstrates politeness in slightly different ways, always compared to Javanese and Java standards.

I worry especially more when especially when I hear words like "primitive" to describe Eastern Indonesians. (with no qualifications for how faulty that statement may be or however much of an over-generalization. ALL Eastern Indonesians? The ones who attend classes here do wear clothes, after all.)

Or I hear how excluded some students feel when their friends all slip into Javanese (the native language here) and do not speak Indonesian, not allowing all of their friends or everyone within the group to understand.

My heart feels for these students.

And then it starts to make sense why and how they can feel so much like outsiders even in their own country.

Granted, that's the beauty of Indonesia--the multi-cultured country that it is. But as educators I believe we have to be sensitive to our students who may not be from (Central) Java.

God: male? female? both?

2011-03-14T19:37:00.002+07:00

"So God created mankind in his own image, in the image of God he created them; male and female he created them." -Genesis

I had an interesting discussion in my poetry class the other day. We were discussing a friend & colleague, Bu Purwanti's poems, namely one entitled "God is Not Always Smiling." In this poem the speaker uses the pronoun "she" to liken the image of God to a woman, mostly as a maternal figure.

I had heard God referred to as a woman before, so this idea was not quite so earth-shattering and scandalous for me as it seemed to be for some of my students.

Many of them were blown away by this idea and some adamantly disagreed, or so they wrote in papers and journals; but at the same time some appreciated the different way to conceive of God.

What intrigued me the most was a comment made by a student during our class discussion. She told the class that she had a lecturer who basically said that the usage of this pronoun was okay, but only because it was used for literature. But if it was used in a scholarly paper, the lecturer would mark it as wrong, because it was just that--totally wrong.

And so, to give the students something to think about (something I had read before, just as food for thought, and not necessarily because I believe that God is--only--female), I brought up the above Bible verse from Genesis.

So, if we try to understand this, that man AND woman was made in God's image? How can that be? After all, whoever pegged God for a hermaphrodite?

Really, how can you totally ignore that passage? How can both man and women be made in God's image? Yes, so we're all human-like, but there are some crucial differences, eh?

You can try and swing it how you want to read it (ahem-patriarchy!) but there is no denying that that passage leaves some room for ambiguity.

Personally, I believe that God transcends gender. I think God is so beyond our comprehension as humans that we need to categorize s/him into one of the two or our "allowable" gender groups so that we can try and make sense of this all-powerful God. (Not that I think we ever really can, but heck we try! And in the process we really wedge 'er in that box good!)

I also really enjoyed the book the Shack's portrayal of God...as being able to be who we need s/him to be, so that we can relate to s/him (My personal favorite persona of God was the African-American mama). I certainly believe that these transformations and varying persona is definitely something God is capable of. I think the limitations we put on God is not really representative of how God "is" or "is not," but rather, it reveals our faulty humanity: our imperfect, limited abilities of knowing God.

Maybe I just took too many DHS classes in my undergrad and I want to (try and) stir up the pot the way she always did. Maybe I'm too much of a rhetorical analyst, and am (over)focusing on diction, but I don't think so.

I firmly believe that part of the beauty and the danger of the Bible is how at points it is wonderfully, poetically figurative, at others starkly, harshly literal. Sometimes it is so specific and at others lessons are given in parables and there is large intentional ambiguity, allowing for vast interpretations. We can pretty much make what we want to out of it.

And we have, oh we have, for centuries upon centuries. We justify killing in the name of religion, citing the Bible as support. We make God fit our agendas in hundreds of ways.

Why would we think it wouldn't extend to gender?

Video game Vice

2011-03-13T12:16:00.003+07:00

I didn't grow up in a church home and I didn't grow up really understanding what Lent was. I only knew Ash Wednesday as a strange day when people wore ashes on their foreheads. And for me, Easter was the day the bunny came and I searched for my much-anticipated Easter basket, adorned with chocolate eggs & treats, jelly beans, and other little goodies, surrounded in a bed of fake grass. I knew people went to church on Easter but I was pretty sure it was only because it was a national holiday that happened to fall on a Sunday.

Since growing up and becoming a Christian, the holiday holds a deeper, more significant meaning to me, of course, in commemorating the crucifixion, death and resurrection of Jesus.

And like many other Christians, I have committed to giving something up this Lent season, to allow more time for prayer and reading and reflection.

I've decided to give up video games.

It is a bit funny to me since I've never really been a video games person. But the old school ones (ie-ones I remember from my childhood, playing with my older brother on the original Nintendo system) we can play on our computers here. It is quite the contrast, comparing the graphics and dimensions and capabilities to our Nintendo Wii back home, but it is still relaxing and allows me to "zone" out after a busy day of teaching and meetings and consultations with students and reading and grading papers and lesson planning and other socializing.

Which, of course, is necessary. I think it is important to give yourself time to decompress. My problem is I seem to have a developed a slight addiction to these mind-numbing games.

And when you don't have a heck of a lot of free time as it is, it really has eaten into mine. And really, when all is said and done at the end of the day, and I realize how much time I've wasted on games, I really regret it. Part of this is because I'm not good at stopping once I start. ("Just one more game," Just until we even it up" or "Just let me catch up and get ahead, Brandon!")

And, I've decided there are other better ways I could be spending my time. I can choose to zone out in more productive, more renewing ways. And so far, what I've found is that I am reading more: for pleasure, for professional development and for developing my faith, writing more letters, socializing more (talking more with friends, students and neighbors, even conversing more with Brandon about our days rather than just using him as my video game buddy), etc.

I wish I could truthfully say that I'm just using this time to engage in deep meditation and having meaningful conversations with God. That I have foregone video games to become a pious Christian, devotedly using every spare minute to read His word and pray to Him.

Yeah, that would a nice confession. But I'm not (anywhere near) there.

But you know, I don't think I have to only use this time for that. Granted, I don't think it would be a BAD way to spend my time. But I think that breaks in routine and reconsidering how we spend (or waste) our time, are important first steps. Period. I think God can nudge us to reconsider what we do and what we don't do. And that just that very first step of questioning what we do & don't do and making slight changes to that routine can make a huge difference.

And really, I could beat myself up, like I am so fond of doing, for not using every spare minute as productively as I possibly could, or that I think I should, but you know, I don't think that's the point.

And if I were to do that, I think I'd be focusing on the wrong thing.

So now, even if the computer screen now displays facebook pages, instead video games...

Oops. :) It can constitute relationship-building too, right? I hope?

So, clearly, I am not trying to be sanctimonious here. On the contrary, my fear is that I am just replacing one vice with another, as the previous line indicates, written only partly in jest.

But my point is, I wonder if God can and does use changes in routine as important lessons...even when the changes we make are not always perfectly nun-like.

It still gives us a time to stop. To breathe. To listen. To hear. To remember.

If we just take a time-out for a minute or two every day from what we fill our days with, and remember what this season is all about, or even just to remember what is important to us & in life, to consider what it is we (should) value,...

I think it's time well spent. Changes well made. Even if that time of quiet reflection and relationship building still happens via the internet, while on the computer.

As I prepare for this Easter, I am not awaiting Peterson's chocolate peanut butter eggs and marshmallow peeps and jelliebellie jellybeans. But I am trying to have faith and patience and trust that God has a plan and is at work within me.

what else should my Indonesian friends do...

2011-02-23T12:51:00.002+07:00

on their hypothetical visit to the US...

Go into a super-Walmart. I think this is part of the American experience, even though I am not one of the "yeahhh, Walmart!" folks. I think it's unforgivably unjust how they treat their employees and then boast of their millions donated to charities and so many thousands given to their communities. That's all well & good, but how about paying insurance for your employees and giving them a shot at a stable life? A semblance of security? Ridiculous. And how about at least giving employees enough working hours during the week to get a full time stats so they can earn enough for insurance? Arg.

Nevertheless, you should go to Walmart. Why? Well, first off it's an amazingly huge store, especially the superstores--they are grocery stores as well as department stores--wrapped into one. One section of the store is the grocery store with rows upon rows of junk food: whole aisles of chips, sodas, candy, etc. It's terrifying and amazing to see how one whole aisle can be dedicated to just one type of junk.

Oh, America. Land o'the Walmarts.

Then when you're done grocery shopping people go to another section of the huge super-store and can buy their toiletries and soap and cosmetics, etc, their electronics: dvds, computers, cameras, batteries, video games, toys or games for the kids, cards and stuff to wrap presents, an arts and crafts section, furniture section, home-decorating section, tools and hardware section, stuff for your car section--a place where you can get your oil changed, a pet section where you can food for pets, toys, fish to become your pets, etc.

In Indonesia I don't think there's an equivalent. The closest thing is Carre Four (the French walmart-esque store) but even that is not the same. Walmart is bigger and it has more stuff.

Usually in the front of Walmart/as part of the store, there is a cafe, a Subway or McDonalds, an eye doctor and eyeglasses store, a pharmacy, a bank, a place to get your hair cut and your nails done, etc.

And before you enter the door there are vending machines. Ah, the vending machines of America: so many different choices of games or little toys you can buy, candies, little mechanical horse rides to entice little kids, and places to buy sodas and snacks.

It makes sense while so many people shop there and love Walmart. It's cheap and you can get nearly everything you need there for your daily needs. Plus, it's a huge time saver. It saves an incredible amount of time on shopping as you don't have to run to different stores to get all you need or want.

Where I come from too it was kind of a socializing experience to go to Walmart. There was only like one grubby little diner opened late at night. And then there was Walmart. And as high school students late at night on weekends, if nothing was opened, and we were out and about, we went to Walmart. (Which shows you how exciting the area around Panama, New York was!)

Like I said, I'm not a huge fan of Walmart or the super-stores. After having lived here, I appreciate even-more-so the traditional markets and how individual sellers or little family-owned businesses & like how here they have a shot of making it.

On the other hand, while it is easy to complain about Walmart and stores like it, my experience as the bule living in Indonesia, is--it is challenging when there isn't one around when you want one. (Or a store like it, at least.) In the middle of the night when you want a tub of ice cream. Or produce to make a late night meal.

I must eat my words. I miss stores like Walmart a heck-uva a lot more than I ever thought I would/could.

For better or for worse, the Walmart phenomena is a defining part of American culture. And I think Indonesians who visit America should make sure to make a trip to one.

food & drink to try in America...

2011-02-21T20:16:00.001+07:00

So, let's do the reverse of this too, shall we? How about if Indonesians venture to America? What should they try there?

Well, in my humble opinion:

Food/drink:

Asparagus: I have only seen the canned available here. And really there is just nothing like fresh asparagus. I would roast it though if it were steamed or boiled it would be good too.

Raspberries: They're still one of my favorite fruits. And I think fresh in-season raspberries are one of the few fruits that actually holds a candle to Indonesian fruits.

Peaches: The other fruit to try are peaches: seasonal ones, of course.

These are the only two fruits I really miss from the US.

Although since grapes are so much cheaper in America, I would recommend if Indonesians went to the US for a visit that they should try the grapes. (Most importantly: concord grapes.)

And a banana. And a mango and papaya. Not because they're good. Because they're not. But so that you will have a new level appreciation of what you have in Indonesia. :)

A thick juicy steak and a thick juicy hamburger (yes, I am an awful vegetarian). Also BBQ pulled pork and BBQ spare ribs. Indonesian steak is different and pork is hard to come by because of the large percentage of Moslems living in Indonesia. Plus bbq pork is just out of this world. I still dream of it.

One (very important) word: CHEESE! The default cheese (and the only one readily available) is kraft. It is not refrigerated, apparently it does not have to be, and it is just...not the same. In my opinion, it is not "real" cheese (like I wouldn't consider velveeta or Cheez Whiz real cheese either). Occasionally you will find mozzarella because it is quite expensive and even more expensive is cheddar. I really miss and crave extra sharp cheddar cheese sometimes.

Brandon and I both really miss cheese: the variety and the quality. Gouda, blue cheese, gorgonzola, parmesan, sharp cheddar, goat's milk and sheep's milk, feta, soft and hard cheeses, local and imported cheeses. I miss cheese plate's from fancy Italian restaurants and I miss sharp cheddar that I would use to make grilled cheese sandwiches or sprinkle on top of tacos. I dream of macaroni and cheese.

So, yeah. I would really recommend Indonesians should try the cheese.

Ice cream: all of the ice cream I have tried here, both from cartons sold in grocery markets and ice cream shops where it is handmade, lacks the creaminess and undoubtedly the richness and fat that American ice cream has. While it may seem too intense, I still think it would be important to try it for the experience. I would also recommend a thick, chocolate milkshake--preferrably made from a mom and pop diner place and gelato if you can get it.

A blizzard from Dairy Queen. Because they are wonderful. I have been craving them and nothing says yum (or summer) to me like a DQ oreo blizzard.

Guacamole: I think this one would be challenging for many Indonesians to try. The friends I have talked to here either don't like Guacamole or are repulsed by the idea even to try. I understand why: to them Avocados are fruits. And so the idea of putting it in a dip with cumin, garlic, lime, etc, doesn't sound great. But I really think that avocado is delicious--as a fruit OR as a vegetable. It should it at least be tried--even if you don't like it--as both.

Pizza. Spaghetti and meatballs (The meatballs because I worry my Indonesian friends would be missing their beloved bakso: a meatball soup--a favorite of Obama when he was a child. It is sold all over Salatiga in warungs and by the pedagang kaki lima: street sellers who wander around and ring their bell to people know they are coming). French fries. Baked potatoes. Mashed potatoes. They are such classic American dishes. And I think all are better in America. (Like I think Indonesian dishes aren't done as well in America: gado gado, fried rice, etc)

Cake and Pudding. Both are different in America. Cake--because it is is sweeter and fluffier: I think because of the butter and sugar opposed to the margarine used here. The consistency is different. And as for the pudding--it is just completely different what Americans think of as pudding versus what Indonesians would think of as pudding. For those curious, American pudding is thick like a porridge almost (without the rice ingredient) but it is incredibly thick: made from lots of milk, corn starch or some thickener, lots of sugar, egg yolks also to make it thicker, and flavoring. Whereas pudding in Indonesia is more like jello in its consistency. It isn't rich in the same heavy way that pudding is in America. It is more like jello-ish cake in that you can cut it.

Fresh apple cider and good quality, high-pulp, no-sugar added orange juice. They aren't in Indonesia. They're amazing. I miss them. The end.

Egg nog: it's disgusting. But Indonesians should try it since it is so much a part of the Christmas holidays.

Pumpkin pie and apple pie and cranberry sauce and turkey and gravy and stuffing: I think it would be important for Indonesians to experience the Thanksgiving tradition. But also because these foods are not available or very, very rarely available here. Cranberries don't grow here and so they'd have to be imported and while there is a lot of chicken and duck available, turkeys for meat are rare. And turkey is good.

A hearty multi-grain or whole wheat loaf of bread. Preferably freshly-made from a baker or an assured good source. Why? Well some people say to me: how can you feel filled up from just bread? My first response is: the bread in America is different.

As a child, my family would buy the scary white wonder bread, and I would never get filled up on it either. On the contrary, it would just make me more and more hungry. And that's how thick the bread is here. You must try some thicker bread to understand truly how one may feel filled up from bread.

Subs: they're yummy and popular and part of the American experience.

Hot dogs too: even though I am not a fan, thinking of & to honor my mother, you should try a hot dog.

Cold, fresh milk from Jersey cows. Most Indonesians know milks as ultra-pasteurized milk or milk powder. I confess to craving ice cold, fresh milk. yum.

TOMATOES! I miss tomatoes from the US. The tomatoes here are only the Roma variety and they are often sold greenish. If you're lucky orangish and if you've struck gold, red. I miss the in-season tomatoes from America that I could buy at the Farmer's Market. The ones here don't compare.

A good dish of roasted vegetables: I am a vegetarian and I love vegetables. And now I like them cooked a variety of different ways. But I wonder sometimes if more of my students and friends would like veggies more if they could have them roasted. Anyways, it's my favorite way to eat vegetables and since ovens are not so common here (it is not a staple item all kitchens have) I am confident there are many Indonesians who have not ever tasted roasted vegetables.

Grape juice: it's expensive in Indonesia, not in America. And it's tasty. I like Welches. For a treat you could try the sparkling (carbonated) kind.

Pancakes, Waffles or French toast: the American breakfast foods are so different from the breakfasts in Indonesian (which can be the same or very similar to lunches or dinners). A visitor should try some breakfasts: omelets if you prefer eggs and don't want something sweet.

And lastly, McDonald's, KFC, and Pizza Hut. Because in Indonesia they are extravagant and expensive. In America, they are cheap and I think that many of my Indonesian friends don't believe me on this. Also it may be fun for them to compare.

Also maybe just good tip in case you're running low on funds during this hypothetical trip to America, just to eat. :)

Request Answered...entry #1 what to try in Indonesia: food/drink

2011-02-20T22:46:00.002+07:00

This blog is in answer to a friend's comment: what should you try if/when you come to Indonesia?

Well, in this bule's opinion, and from my (albeit limited) experience from living in Java.

I think it will take me awhile to get through this all, so--

Let's start with food. Always a good place to start. In my opinion anyway.

Fruit: The tropical fruit is amazing. So many different varieties and the quality of it is so amazing.

try: Rambutans (the hairy-like lychee things), Durian (even if you don't like it you should at least try it), Thai Papaya, (I consume so much of it. I don't think it deserves the stuff by the same name in America) Duku (little grape-looking fruit with white flesh that you have to peal the yellow skin off first), Sawo (called sapodilla sometimes. It looks like a potato and again you must peal off the skin but inside it looks like and tastes like caramel), Jeruk Bali (this means citrus of Bali--it's bigger than a grapefruit but it is very sweet),

Also, important: try bananas! It may seem tempting to bypass them in favor of the more exotic fruit. A word of advice though: Don't!!!
All bananas are not created equal. And since they grow fresh here the taste comparison is like the difference between a red-ripe tomato fresh from the garden in July versus one that is slightly orange-ish and clearly picked before ripened, sold in the Walmart produce section, on sale.

Avocado juice: it sounds disgusting for those westerners who know it as a vegetable or that stuff that's in guacamole or goes on salads. But it is amazing. You need to get past the idea that it is avocado but if you can, the juice is delightful. It is made with lots of avocado so it is thick and creamy and rich and then they add sugar so it is sweet and then they put in chocolate-sweetened-condensed milk. yum!

Young Coconut: it's a treat. I chuckle when I think back to the first time I tried it in a juice box and it was so awful. The fresh stuff bears no resemblance. It is sweet and natural and refreshing and filling and simple in itself. Oh yum. The folks here have it with syrup (rose-flavored) but I like it just as nature intended for it to be.

Ronde: It is a sweet, spicy, ginger drink that it is served hot. Inside there are lots of little gelatinous floaties, dumplings--some small ones and big ones made from sugar, and orange peal, yum yum yum. The amount of ginger is intense for some people but it is so warming and comforting on an evening when it is raining a cool rain. Lovely.

Gado-Gado: I think there's definitely a reason why it is eaten all throughout Indonesia and has become popular in western countries. Delicately spiced peanut sauce (and lots of it!) over veggies. mmm. (If you like this, I would also recommend trying the Lotek and the Pecel--both are popular dishes featuring peanut sauces.)

Krupok/Kripik: Many Indonesian dishes are served with these chip-crispy like things. There are so many different kinds. Some are made from animal skins, shrimp, cow lungs, chicken livers. But for the vegetarians--there are ones made from tempeh and tofu. And there are ones made with garlic/onion flavor, ones made from melinjo which are tasty though apparently high in cholesterol, ones made from rice, etc.

Es Buah or Sup buah: There are lots of dessert-like drinks served here. Some are richer because they are made with coconut milk and coconut and lots of sugar and ice. But some are lighter--made just from mixed fruit and tapioca-esque balls with some syrup. And ice. It's a bit strange to eat it with a spoon but it is very refreshing--especially on a hot day.

Any freshly made Juice: What Indonesians call "juice" here I think of more as smoothies. They add the fresh fruit and it is quite thick. It's delightful. (Though if you decide to order carrot or tomato juice it will not be what westerners would conceive of. They add lots o'sugar to them!)

Oleh-oleh: a cool thing that is popular here is to get "oleh-oleh" for people. Oleh-oleh are like food souvenirs. Towns or cities have their own "special" oleh-oleh and many times when people go somewhere they will bring back these treats for friends or family.

My personal favorite ones from Salatiga are (NOT the cow's lungs chips, though honestly I have never tried them. Have at it, those who eat meat & more brave for me--silakan/go for it or help yourself!): the ones made from peanuts, ginger and palm sugar. And also ones made from crushed up peanuts and sugar and then are made into these little triangle-shapes.

My absolute favorite ole-oleh would have to be from Solo: serabi. It's like a crepe but the filling is made from coconut milk and sugar and it becomes a little like a pudding on top of a crepe. So delicious and sweet.

Sate: they are little meat-skewers cooked with a sauce on top of coals (a fire lit from minyak tanah--or ground or soil oil). I have tried the chicken sate--I clearly am the bad vegetarian of this vegetarian couple--and it is really yummy. Also served with a peanut sauce.

Tempeh: the tempeh in general here just rocks my socks off. It is sooo much better than any tempeh I've ever had before. (Even the expensive "organic" stuff in the natural section of grocery stores in America) My favorite is the kind that is wrapped in cardamom leaves while it ferments. Fried tempeh is amazing. The penyet kind has spicy sambal on top for those of you with a taste for the heat. And mendoan is cooked with flour and spring onions with spices and fried.

Bakpao: is one of my favorite snacks to buy from street sellers here. I always buy from a man who comes around our neighborhood in the mid-afternoon. He bicycles around and toots his horn (literally) to let people know he's out and about & selling. Bakpao is a Chinese treat. It is a bread dumpling (the only bread, truthfully, from Indonesia I'm crazy about) and filled with either: sweetened green bean--a different kind then westerners would think of when you hear green bean, sweetened black beans, chicken, chocolate and peanuts, or strawberry.

Gudeg: is a specialty dish of Jogjakarta. It is a curry made from young jackfruit. When jackfruit is young it is considered a veggie and is cooked until tender (it is actually even more meat-like veggie than eggplant!). The curry-esque sauce is made from coconut milk, kemiri nut, and other spices. It is usually a bit sweet as it is from Central Java & the preferred taste here is hot and sweet.

Fried bananas: I couldn't believe at first that this was so popular or would be so good. But-wow. I stand corrected. The fried bananas were a really good idea. Kudos to whoever came up with them! They have certain bananas for eating, for frying, and for steaming or boiling. (The latter of which I'm not so much a fan of, but many people like it-Brandon included!)

Are you hungry yet? I sure am. Must end for now and snack. :-P

what is here, what is not....

2011-02-18T11:54:00.002+07:00

You know it has already become so ordinary for me,what is available here and what is not. But for those curious-sort, I wanted to let you know what is available here with a few slight modifications:

--KFC (with rice, not potatoes or cole slaw served with the chicken)
--McDonalds (burgers with rice, anyone?)
--Dunkin Donuts (with flavors like lychee-jelly filled and durian ones!)
--Pizza Hut (with available toppings you would not find as often in the US: corn, beef, chicken, mayo, etc)

*These places are considered the expensive, extravagant places. You eat there if you are rich or if it's a special occasion.

Snacks and Drinks you find here:

--Coke & Coke zero
--Sprite & Sprite zero
--Fanta (in: strawberry, orange, lemon, blue flavors--and yes, apparently blue is a flavor)
--(rarely) Pepsi--but more common is the pepsi blue option!
**Overall though, soda is not quite as popular here. It seems that is becoming more and more so, but mostly people here drinks a lot of tea. Hot, very sweet jasmine tea and iced, very sweet jasmine tea. Sometimes sweet green tea. Or water. Or sugary, milky, coffee-esque drinks. Juice sometimes but not usually pre-made but made-to-order that are blended up, like smoothies. Again, very sweet.)
--Capri-sun drinks (rare also)
--Nescafe coffee drinks in little ten-ounce cans

--Toblerone
--Oreos (they have ice cream and blueberry flavors)
(oh and a candy that I swear is just like Creme savours and Werther's original :) But the brand is different.)
--Kit-Kats
--Wrigley's gum
--Riccola

--Pringles (with the flavor options of seaweed, shrimp, teriyaki chicken, spicy chili). Other brands of potato chips though feature a beef flavor.

Cereals:
We can buy oatmeal from Australia and I've seen corn flakes & cocoa-crispy like things.

And the ever-popular among the college students, world-wide--instant noodles. They are called Indo-mie here, at least the popular kind. (Mie means noodles)

-It makes me chuckle that they are also popular with college students here too. The flavors are equally as salty though they tend to be more spicy.

Other products you will find here:
--Dove
--Pantene
--Sensodyne
--Old Spice deodrant
--Secret deodrant
--Lifebuoy soap (isn't that found in the US or Britain? Or it used to be?)
--Listerine mouthwash
--Oil of Olay (though it's quite expensive)
--Starbucks coffee (in specialized places, usually sold in coffee shops and it is comparable price-wise to the prices in the US. Read as: extraordinarily expensive for standards here)

Just in case you were curious. :)

differences in gift-giving and present-opening...

2011-02-17T12:19:00.007+07:00

Apparently it is also common when you receive a birthday gift here not to open it right when you receive it, in front of the giver.

(In the rare cases where a present is not wrapped, I have also heard and read that it is not the Javanese way to make a big deal about the present. The reactions are rather subdued...culturally I guess they are supposed to be. And yet, how different from American culture where it is considered rude or less polite not to act really happy and psyched about your gift. Or, it is thought that you probably did not really like it. Even when you don't--whoever didn't have to pretend when they were little and had opened up their presents from snooping around Christmas time? Or when so and so gave you something you didn't like or want but you knew to be polite you needed to act thrilled? Or perhaps mom or dad gave you a heads-up to act excited about the dull gift great aunt Susan was going to give you, or whatever...)

Instead, culturally here--you wait to open your kado (=present). You put the gift in your bag and take it home and then open it later.

How different from American culture, where you WANT the receiver to open the present up right now. You EXPECT them to. Whether you think it is because you want to see their happiness and joy in getting what they got...or you just think that it is because Americans are sombong (=arrogant) and just want the credit and recognition for being a "nice guy" or a "good friend" or a "great gift-giver" (perhaps it's not really altruism).

Whichever, it just seems....wrong for me not to see someone open their present I have given them.

The only possible exception I can come up with is gifts for a wedding. And I think they are not opened during the reception because there are too many presents, too many people, too much other stuff to do at a wedding, not enough time.

But think about other situations: birthdays, wedding showers, bridal showers, they are all about the gifts! And opening the gifts! It just wouldn't seem right to not have the gift-giving part be this big public affair. It's the festive, exciting part! To leave it out would just seem wrong. Incomplete. And how disappointing not to be able to share (or show off?) your marveling over your presents with your friends or family.

However, apparently this,--opposite from American culture--is what happens here. A student of mine said that after everyone went home at the end of the day was when the birthday girl or boy left alone with their presents. And they were so happy to be alone...surrounded by their big pile or presents to open them alone.

Which, frankly, just makes me chuckle. Because this culture, by all intents and purposes, is so much more social and group-focused than American culture. So often people accompany with you, you go places together, you do things with other people...to the point where I am at points (in manner of true confession) overwhelmed by the socialization expectations. I love it and find it refreshing frmo the coldness and distance of American culture but it is intense and so often and so expected, such a huge part of culture and life here. And when you're already busy it just feels a little overwhelming and stressful and mindblowing to me just how much socialization is done and is expected (And I'm even an extrovert!).

And so it just seems to really kurang cocok (="not go" or "not match") with the culture here...this culture where people often menemani (there is even a word for it: to accompany/have a friend go with you to be with you at any point and for any occasion and many times throughout the day for so many different activities)...and yet, you do not have that be the case with opening your presents.

It seems like quite the idiosyncrasy to me.

The friend told me that it was a big, exciting moment for people here to be able to be alone with their presents.

That just made me smile, chuckle and wonder.

I believe this is the first time I have learned of an activity or event that Indonesians prefer to do alone...compared to Americans doing them with others.

So why the presents?

hmm. Dunno. Interesting.

(Another interesting tidbit: it is also considered rude here to leave the price tag on a gift (as it is in America) but I also wonder about this. Because people so often immediately inquire: "How much was that?" / "Berapa itu?"

Perhaps it doesn't apply for presents. Curious as to why. Must find that out.)

durian: the thorny, stinky, pungent, rare, amazing fruit of Asia

2011-02-11T20:30:00.003+07:00

Ah, durian.

We had heard about this intriguing fruit before coming here. We had even tried durian juice once when we ate at an Indonesian restaurant in Columbus OH. And one time (only once) did we see the fruit sold in an Asian supermarket in Columbus.

But, I think it is fair to say that we were durian virgins.

Durian is an incredibly unique fruit. "Duri" is "thorns," "buahan" means fruit and so the name combines both to mean thorny fruit. (Although any noun usually adds ke-root word-an at the end. For example: sedih = sad. kesedihan = sadness)

So people hack it open with a huge knife/machete-like thing. And you have to be careful because the points are quite sharp.

And then, the smell. Oh, the smell.

It is very pungent. (understatement of the century) I have never smelled anything like it before. I wouldn't even begin to know how to describe it.

(I sure would like to meet the first person who ventured to try this fruit with how it smells, tastes, and how its flesh is buried underneath those prickly thorns!)

It tickles me that in certain cities/places in Asia it is banned: certain subways, hotels, or other public places. I was much amused when we went to Singapore to renew our visas to find the no durian sign on the elevator.

The first time we ever tried it was in Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia. We had heard about it and wanted to give it a whirl. We were...not impressed. We have pictures of our atrocious faces after trying it and pictures of the package of it on the ground sitting next to our feet. (To adequately illustrate Brandon's claim that it tasted like feet.) I thought it tasted like pungent garlic and onions, on the verge of spoiling. I have heard others liken it to onion cheesecake: that about cuts it, how the consistency is.

So, we were not fans of the taste. Strangely though, we loved the smell. While yes it is strong and perhaps overpowering at times, it also was distinct. And because of the strong association between smells and memories, that unusual smell always made us think of our first memories in Asia...coming here for the first time when everything was so new and exciting and exhilarating.

We had some MCC friends who live in China visit us and one was a huge durian fan and wanted to try some here. (At that time it was the season for it here, so there were inexpensive local ones available.) We bought some in Solo and my friends encouraged me to try some. So I did.

Wow. It tasted amazing: so much better than what I had remembered it tasting! It was creamy and distinct, still strong but not so, ugh, what's the word? Disgusting comes to mind.

And so this past week I asked our helper to buy some. But when she went to the traditional market to shop for produce this week, she said they didn't have any.

Apparently the season for durian has been really brief this year. (Like other fruits too: mango, and it seems the rambutan season will not be so long either.) People say it is because of "cuaca ekstrim" which literally means extreme weather. We know it better as global warming or climate change. Which is unfortunate that is affecting so many of the crops. (Especially for the farmers) Also though for the buyers because it drives the price of fruits and vegetables up.

So later in the week, our helper's relative was here cutting the grass and taking care of the lawn (I know: we are totally spoiled here.) But I mentioned again my desire to get some durian. And them--being the wonderful-kind hearted Javanese people they are, took off on his motorcycle to try and find us some durian. They were gone for a while. When they came back they said that they had to go all around in search of it.

They had found one durian (satu utuh - one whole durian) that was 80,000 rupiah. This is about $8.70. That was too expensive. They tried to bargain but the seller wouldn't allow it--likely because of the rarity of the durians since & now that so few are available. They continued searching and eventually found one for 50,000 = $5.50. And so they got it.

Wow. So amazing. The smell wafted throughout our house for a few days afterward. And when we tried it--it was creamy and rich: almost caramelly and a lingering flavor. Still pungent but sweeter and milder.

(We wonder if clearly our tastes have changed. But our helper also said that there are three kinds of durian: one sweet, one bitter, and one sweet and bitter. The one we had the other day was sweet and bitter. But she said the bitter ones have a more yellow-ish flesh, which is like the durian we bought in Kuala Lumpur.)

So, we are durian converts. I am glad too. It is such a unique food...so special to being here and living here. (Many Indonesians just love it. Others hate it, and even more westerners loathe it.) But some bule (westerners) love it too. And for us, being such "foodie-esque" people, it just seemed wrong for us not to relish its sweet, slightly oniony-feety-aroma and taste. (Now doesn't that just make your mouth water?) Previously we had commented on how we "wanted to like it but just didn't." I am glad that that has now changed.

Truly though, eating durian is just one of those things that cannot be described. It simply must be experienced.

birthday traditions...reversed...

2011-02-11T19:50:00.001+07:00

Just wanted to share some of the things I've learned about how birthdays are done here in Java.

First of all, in general I have heard that birthdays are not quite such a big deal here. Moreso for children but once you get to be an adult, it doesn't seem/from what I've heard, people don't really celebrate, exchange presents, have cake, etc.

As for children and how they celebrate:

The food traditionally served for a birthday celebration is nasi tumpeng (which is a mound/cone shape of yellow rice: rice cooked with turmeric and coconut milk. Surrounding it are various foods: tempe kering--tempeh that is cooked with garlic, shallots and chili with sweet sauce (kecap manis), palm sugar, and peanuts. Also there is abon (which is dried, shredded beef, also cooked with this palm sugar and sometimes chilies). And egg that has been cut into strips so it looks like pasta. There are some other vegetable dishes, but those are what I remember from the times when I have had nasi tumpeng.

(The nasi tumpeng is served in other special occasions too. We have had it for: openings of new buildings, ceremonies, etc)

Sometimes, and more and more so, children have birthday cakes for their parties. But it is still considered a "western" practice and I gather that it is mostly done just in cities or larger towns, not really in villages.

Another interesting note: The big birthday here is not Sweet 16, but Sweet 17. Sometimes celebrated by both guys and girls, but more commonly a big deal for girls. And if you are rich it is the birthday to go all out on.

The most striking thing to me though is that once you've reached adult-hood, you are not really treated anymore for your birthday. On the contrary, you are expected to treat others: friends and guests.

It is so incredibly the opposite from my culture.

I have heard all of this before but recently reflected on it because a friend just had a birthday. In my American-way of thinking, I was considering what nice gesture I could do or what I could buy.

After talking about it with her though, she explained how if she were to hang out with people on her birthday she would be the one expected to treat.

I understand the culture is just different...but I confess that it made me unbelievably sad. Especially because if adults' birthdays aren't such a huge deal here, and people don't give you presents anymore, then it's not really "your" day at all.

(How wonderfully indicative of the different cultures this is. Indonesia : group-focused. The Java idea of wanting to be hospitable and have the guest be the guest of honor and have a perfect time. Whereas in America : individualistic. It's all about me. I am special. I am the birthday boy/girl!)

It also is a different situation in that sometimes presents are not expected to be brought for children's birthday parties. But if you invite everyone in your child's class (which is encouraged/the "right" thing to do if you can afford it) and then you treat all the kids and all the parents to: a full meal, perhaps cake, favors, etc.

Wow. Expensive. Lots of work. Though almost the same in America. Not being a parent yet myself, perhaps I am not realistically considering how much work it is to throw a kiddo's party.

You know, it's just funny how, after living in a new culture with very different traditions, there are some things I can easily adapt to...even when they are different. And yet there are other things that seem so ingrained into me...these ideas of what is right or wrong, polite or impolite, as well as what is personally important to me that I have a hard time embracing how it is done in this culture.

Accepting treats and dinners out and whatnot from the birthday people is one of them. Especially when not necessarily being expected to give something in return.

I don't even think that I could do it really. And leave it just at that. I would have to return the favor at some point down the line. With a gift or a dinner out of my own, etc.

Guess as much as I'd often like to pat myself on the back, my culture really is just too ingrained in me.

Hence the reason why I am planning on making dinner and a birthday chocolate cake for my friend this weekend.

Old (cultural) habits and values die hard.