Mr. Good’s fried rice

Directly across the street from Jogja’s most popular expat bar is a Circle K that sells cheaper beer. The tourists drink inside the bar while the locals sit on the ground in front of Circle K, still hearing Friday’s house reggae band but saving their money for tomorrow. I was in that crowd and adjusting my knees on the concrete when I noticed a little boy sitting alone behind me, silent but clearly interested, playing with a lighter. It was 1am so people started asking him where his mother was, but he said he didn’t know and kept playing with the fire. He went inside and bought a small bag of Cheetos, then returned to his spot, eating half before folding the rest up carefully for later.

Over an hour he warmed up and revealed in shy Indonesian that he’s ten years old, doesn’t have any brothers or sisters, can’t read and doesn’t go to school, lives far away but walks a lot, and loves fried rice with chicken. I said okay, let’s go find some, so he and I went hunting for some street food. It wasn’t far, you can’t go ten feet in Jogja without finding nasi goreng or bakso. We ordered a heaping plate of fried rice and some lemon tea from the bapak, and sat together on a wooden bench while he ate.

The bapak asked the boy about his family in Javanese and translated for me; the boy answered that his parents don’t have food in the house, only cigarettes, and he didn’t want to go home because he didn’t want to see his mother. He wouldn’t talk more, only grinned shyly and ate, and tried to run away once he’d finished. We caught him and wrapped up the leftovers for him to eat tomorrow. I told him I was going home soon (2am!) and offered to take him to Circle K for some snacks for later; he smiled and picked out some cookies and orange juice, then left when I left. As he ran away, hands full and still so shy, I shouted after him for his name: Mas Bagus, Mr. Good!

Still in Java, still happy

A Sunday afternoon Starbucks at Amplaz is still my favorite treat. I can’t believe I live in Java and still love carrying this ridiculously overpriced green-accented plastic cup around the mall so much, but there it is.

Surprise, surprise, I stopped writing in this a few months ago. I wonder what the average death rate is for overeager expat blogs. I’d tell you I’ll get back to it, that I’m sorry and hope to be better, but I might not, unless I change the types of things I talk about in here, which is still possible.

There’s probably a turning point living abroad, maybe 3-4 months in, where the everyday delights start being just that — everyday. You lose track of what’s interesting and what’s mundane, since everyday facts like food tents and motorbikes seem as interesting to talk about as any other meal or practice in any other city. I also don’t want to exotify the place I live now, cheapen it in any way, since Jogja feels as much like home as anywhere else I’ve lived and deserves more than being caricatured.

I can’t fully describe my life out here to you, but I can tell you that it’s wonderful. I can tell you, knocking on wood, that the year wrapping up right now will have been one of the best of my life. I’m lucky I landed in Java, especially Jogja. Every hour here is still a delight, displays of indirectness as occasions for wriggle room which leave both parties comfortable, deep breaths and leisure and smiles preferred above hurry and discomfort. It’s incredible to keep realizing how empty I had felt before coming to Indonesia, that shell of myself who lived in DC.

Heads up – I might move to Bali for work in October. They first mentioned this to me in January and at the time, I lost my mind. I was at the start of a fascinating relationship, picking up Indonesian as I went along, developing close friendships with several people, starting to feel part of a team at the office, falling in love with all things Java. I would ride my motorbike across the bridges at night and refuse to sleep since sleep meant fewer hours awake in Jogja. Now the relationship has run its natural course, my language is on its way to fluency, many friends I love are themselves leaving Indonesia, and I’ve had an incredibly productive few months at my NGO. I’d be starting over in Jogja anyway, so the transition process might as well move to Bali. Why not? Maybe I’ve always been destined to pull a Julia Roberts yoga’ing my way to self-discovery in Ubud.

I’ll be in the United States August 16 till Sept 13, then back to Indonesia. See you soon?

I’m in a movie trailer!

Back in November, I was an extra in a movie being filmed by Indonesia’s most famous and internationally acclaimed director, Garin Nugroho. They needed foreigners to play Dutch journalists in Soegija, a movie about Indonesia’s first Catholic bishop and the country’s war for independence. I spent two days on the movie set near Jogja, met a bunch of great people, was filmed in 4-5 scenes, and got paid almost as much as my monthly salary for just two days of work. Bagus!

As we were filming one of the bishop’s key political speeches, given in English, I noticed that the script needed some drastic editing. Realizing I was the only native English speaker in a room full of actors and production staff, I grabbed a pen and started marking up the board, but ended up having to rewrite the entire thing and rehearse it with the leading actor, a prominent Indonesian author in his own right. Quite the moment that was, holding up a complicated, 20+ actor scene and Garin Nugroho himself so I could piece together a speech good enough for such a filming! Anyway, they were two really long days but it was a blast seeing how a film is made, not to mention getting to watch such an accomplished director at work. Only wish I could’ve gotten a writing credit too 😉

The movie doesn’t come out until June, but in the meantime, the trailer has been released. I’m excited to report that if you’re not too dazzled by the handsome Dutch soldiers, you can see my face in the blurred-out foreground at exactly :53 of this YouTube video, and again at 1:11, wearing a fancy feathered hat. Check it out!

And here’s some more pictures I took at the set! No one told me I couldn’t take them, and I never signed any confidentiality statements, so if there’s any reason I shouldn’t publish these, the production companies are free to let me know and I’ll take them down. Terima kasih!

A Spaniard and an American: do we look Dutch?

How about now?

Makeup for the actual Dutch actors; naptime for the rest.

Set of what’s slated to be the movie’s opening scene.

The bishop himself, waiting.

More actors? No wait… those are actual Indonesian soldiers on our ride home.

Under the stars at Sundak Beach, Indonesia [in pictures]

Last Friday was Nyepi, a Balinese Hindu-oriented national holiday which Jogja doesn’t really celebrate, so I headed to Sundak beach on the south Java coast with Rachel, Hector, and twelve of Rachel’s students, all Indonesian boys around 19-24 years old.

The road conditions were four hours of this:

…for views like this:

…white sand made of buffed-up coral, like this:

…plus a sunset like this:

…all meticulously captured by twelve Indonesian smartphones:

The boys made a sandpit fire and cooked a full chicken, plus sambal and rice:

…and rooms at the beach’s inn were too expensive, so we rented large mats and planned to sleep on the sand. Once it began raining, we dragged everything under a bamboo shelter, the boys yelling “Abort! Abort!”. Everyone fell asleep playing with their own smartphones, a far cry from ghost stories by the campfire, though people believe very strongly in ghosts here so maybe that’s for the best.

I woke up at 4am and noticed the clouds had finally cleared enough for incredible stars — the Milky Way, first sighting in Indonesia. Two of the boys weren’t sleeping either, so we sat together and watched the sun rise over the Indian Ocean.

As if this wasn’t all enough fun, here’s what happened around 7am:

Happy Nyepi!

Now THIS is a chicken finger.

Midnight snack!

I’m not sure what purpose the spoon serves; this is definitely finger food. (Get it?!)

Vietnam 3 : A review in pictures

Vietnam was very good to us, and we’re soon headed back to Indo with an overnight stay in Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia. We’re sad to leave the incredible food and friends, so goodbye and many thanks, Vietnam! Here’s a quick review:

Ho Chi Minh City (Saigon):

• French style urban planning and those culinary staples of French colonialism which make me wish the Dutch had better sweet colonial legacies than the Danish, or Indonesia’s bread-with-sprinkles.
• Christmas everywhere in a Socialist country that is 85% Buddhist. Same in Hanoi and Malaysia, so I’m wondering if the Christmas spirit will overtake Indonesia as well..

Ho Chi Minh vs. Christmas tree

• Motorbike city! These traffic jams make me grateful for the aforementioned urban planning (sidewalks and greenery):

• Visited the Cu Chi tunnels, where the Viet Cong would hide guerilla-style during the war, and then the war remnants museum downtown. A must for historical perspective, but very sobering.

Tiny entrance to the Cu Chi tunnels.

Hue (former imperial capital of the Nguyen dynasty):

• We came to Hue to visit two VIA volunteers who directed us to the good places to eat. Real Vietnamese food is the best cuisine I’ve ever tasted, and I’m so sorry if I become a snob about it when I repatriate.

Tomato-based “winter pho.” It’s cold in Hue!!

• Chrissy and I rented motorbikes and went hunting some emperor’s tombs in the countryside. Here’s some scenes from the Minh Mang tomb, a spectacularly restored UNESCO site. Note the heavy Chinese influence and layouts providing harmonious scenery from every angle; the chi was balanced here, my friends. This afternoon was possibly my favorite part of the week, despite our equatorial selves being unprepared for cold and rainy weather.

• Then we boarded a 15-hour overnight sleeper bus, contracted an eye infection and some chest coughs, and woke up in…..

Sleeper bus!

Hanoi!:

• Pastries, wine and DIY spring rolls.
• Visited the preserved corpse of Mr. Ho Chi Minh himself, embalmed in a simple marble room inside a massive concrete tomb. His wish had been to be cremated and spread in South, Central, and North Vietnam, and we’re not quite sure how he ended up on display, so we have some reading to do.

• Wandered on foot (Indonesian: jalan-jalan) around Hoan Kiem Lake at the city center to see old Vietnamese men in their spectacles and berets and dodge ladies walking aggressively arm-in-arm. Same in the city’s Old Quarter and French Quarter.

• We also booked a one-night tour through our hotel to visit Halong Bay, a recently appointed Wonder of the World, to eat, sleep, kayak, and enjoy the views from a large sleeper boat anchored in the Bay. Misty weather made us wonder if the bay’s namesake dragons were really out there, till I found a real one on our boat trying to chomp down on part of Vietnam’s national heritage:

Dec. 4 – Dec. 9: Phu Quoc Island
Dec. 9 – Dec. 11: Ho Chi Minh City/Saigon
Dec. 11- Dec. 13: Hue
Dec. 14 – Dec. 17: Hanoi & Ha Long Bay
Dec. 2 – Dec. 4 & Dec. 17: Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia

Things Vietnam has which Indonesia doesn’t really [in pictures]

Pho.

Pastries (Hanoi), and this is killing me a little bit. Not pictured on the shelf beneath: real baguettes, thanks to France.

Wide, tree-lined boulevards and sidewalks (Ho Chi Minh City) (again, thank you France).

Public parks (Ho Chi Minh City), and/or places to sit quietly in public in general, and/or a climate conducive to spending the afternoon outside.

Jameson Irish whiskey.

Ridiculous Christmas decorations.

Offerings quietly stuffed next to an electrical pole…

….or a bridge.

Guys who try to glue your friend’s shoes back together when you’re not looking.

Kids who sit on chairs propped on their parents’ motorbike.

Stylish but ridiculously unprotective motorbike helmets.

Chinese-style emperor tombs (Hue – this was worth a blog post all to itself…).

Trees that look like this (emperor’s tombs, Hue).

Winter coats (it’s so cold here! Or have I been living on the equator too long?)

Salted coffee (Hue): A layer of thick syrupy coffee, condensed milk, and salt, which you mix together once the coffee drips and serve on ice.

Mi opla (Hue): Eggs cooked on a hot plate beneath a thin layer of a tomato cream, onions, cilantro, stuffed into a baguette and eaten like a sandwich.

Pork!!

Shark meat (Phu Quoc Island). (Yes, i tried it, but i still hate seafood.) (Those who love it still couldn’t swallow the shark liver.)

Egg coffee (Hanoi): Thick, syrupy coffee served beneath a super-whipped layer of eggs. And for that matter, backdrops to enjoying egg coffee which look like this:

I don’t remember what this is called (Hanoi): Crispy egg omelette with pork inside, which you roll up with greens in rice paper and eat like a spring roll.

Public parks, certainly with pagodas in the middle (Hanoi).

Old men who wear berets and sit in the park to contemplate (I love them!).

Toddlers playing tug-of-war in said public parks. Well OK, Indo has toddlers, but still — tug at my heartstrings a little more, Vietnam.

And till December 17…. me!

Jazz in the ancient city

You might know how much I love live music, and it’s one thing I really miss. Bands in the bars here play the same 10 reggae and classic rock songs, and we have discotheques in Jogja, but they seem to be for for underage kids existing outside a culture of alcohol who drink way too much and fistpump to uber-masculine brostep. When my friend invited me to go to the Jogja Jazz festival (http://www.ngayogjazz.com/) this weekend, I was also skeptical. How many other ways can I be reminded that I won’t have a satisfying live music experience for a year or two?

Again: wrong! Welcome to nine hours and seven stages of improvisational jazz in Kotagede, the ancient capital of the pre-colonial Sultanate of Mataram. The stages were nestled throughout Kotagede’s ancient market and mosque, with my favorite under the hundreds-years-old banyan tree at the city center (which I don’t have a picture of – sorry!). We grabbed a table with a view at a nearby warung (small restaurant) and watched music from there while friends came and went, sipping coffee and hot orange juice till after sunset when we walked around to the other stages. Only one thing felt off: no one danced. During one set in particular with as much energy as any ‘jamband’ concert I’ve been to, I barely saw a head bob.

Listening to this music played out loud in Indonesia made me feel like I was hearing it for the first time in the 1950s — good old transgressive American-style music where maybe it’s never been played before, in the conservative context of Java’s ancient capital. That’s not to say that such cultural displays are “disapproved” of here, or that it feels counter-cultural, threatening, revolutionary to be present, not at all: people from all over the region came with their families to enjoy the music and festival in Saturday’s nice weather. It’s only that sometimes, the great cultural mix of Indonesia makes you do a double take.

Idul Adha, a vegetarian’s nightmare

This weekend was Idul Adha (Arabic: Eid al-Adha), the Islamic holiday commemorating Abraham’s willingness to sacrifice his son to God. Each Muslim family traditionally slaughters one livestock and gives the meat away to neighbors and those in poverty. To illustrate the holiday’s scale, per the Jakarta Post: “around 62,801 sacrificial animals had been brought to Jakarta, comprising 10,796 cows, 964 buffaloes, 47,618 goats and 3,450 sheep” — and that’s just one city. It’s a deeply meaningful exercise which encourages reflection on alms and death, and Jogja once again shut down as everyone went home to be with their families.

For me in Jogja, this meant there were a LOT of sheep hanging out in the roads last week, the five mosques near my house each chanted Allahu Akbar from sunset Saturday until Sunday morning, and I spent an hour Sunday night trying to find an open restaurant for dinner before settling on a peanut butter and jelly sandwich at home. Luckily now, Indonesian friends are still giving away stacks of extra meat their neighbors left for them as the whole country overdoses on fresh lamb (yum!).

Sorry to say that I didn’t take any photos of the holiday; I wasn’t feeling well on Sunday and a day at the mosque watching ritual animal slaughter wouldn’t have helped. I’m feeling better now though, so here’s a picture of my lunch at work today: chicken spine with heart!

Afternoon at the mall

Before I came to Indonesia, I thought I was going to have to live without chocolate, butter, pancakes, ice cream, root beer, mochas, milkshakes, peanut butter, reliable electricity, English. I’m an idiot: for better or worse, these things all exist in Jogia in spades.

I went to the big mall in town, Amplaz, for the first time on Saturday. It’s huge.

The Carrefour in particular was system shocking. It’s Target basically – you can buy anything you could ever need and the prices are decent. It looks and feels like an American superstore except looking closer reveals all the foreign brands (though many familiar too) and knick-knacks that come with living in another country. It’s like walking into your childhood home and finding a different family living there. Disorienting/paralysing/awesome.

I wasn’t going to get a Starbucks. I wasn’t! It’s too expensive and I’m not homesick yet. One drink there costs at least 40,000 Rp., or~ $4, my whole food budget for two days, whereas coffee on the street costs 3,000-5,000 Rp and it’s delicious. But after wandering around for an hour or two, I was looking at the electronic touchscreen mall directory to see what stores I might have missed (Guess, Baskin Robbins, Polo/Ralph Lauren, Croc…) when a nice guy approached asking to practice his English, and won’t I take a drink with him at Starbucks, anything I wanted. I get a little weary sometimes of English-practicing requests from strangers but oh man, a free frappaccino?! Definitely worth an hour’s tutorial on the past tense.

Guilty as charged. Yep, tastes the same.

Rice cookers, clean water dispensers, buckets for showers, high-tech stereos, and Ralph Lauren.