Since I'm all about making lists, I thought I'd focus this one on things I've done that scream "Hey!!! You're going to fail at readjusting to America!!!!" Which means I'm going to be constantly on the phone with other Fulbrighters, lamenting my embarrassing moments (I highly anticipate that there will be many). Included in the list are:
- Walking with Mary Martin in Singapore and not thinking it was weird when she stood by the road and tried to hail a bus. Also not understanding that people wait at bus stops for buses.
- Jaywalking in Singapore when no one else was doing so. It may be illegal...oops...
- Saying "Apa?" every time I don't clearly hear what someone said.
- Saying "Apayah" when I can't think of a word.
- Eating rice with my right hand at a Western restaurant.
- Not being full when I don't eat rice.
- Adding "Insyallah" and "Alhamdulilah" to all of my sentences.
- Saying "Alhamdulilah" to the Hindu Balinese woman running the toko across from my homestay.
- Not remembering the English words for "toko," "
- Talking with other foreigners in incomprehensible English because I can no longer form a grammatically correct sentence.
- Talking my way out of a traffic ticket because I flirtingly asked the police officer if he had a girlfriend and said I was looking for an Indonesian boyfriend (dear Lord, I have no shame). Imagine doing that in the States.
- Judging foreigners for stupid, culturally ignorant comments (something I need to stop).
- Not understanding why stores aren't closed at magrib (hour for Islamic evening prayer).
- Feeling like Bali and Lombok have cold climates.
- Shivering and feeling cold after heavy rainfalls.
- Negotiating for everything. I can't walk into a farmers market back home and tell the seller his vegetables are too expensive and will he accept half the price?
It's gonna be an interesting 2 months at home...
Friday, June 3, 2011
Jalan-jalan
I'm in Gili Trawangan right now for the fourth (and probably last) time. I love the crystal clear blue water, white sand, and relaxing atmosphere, but after the fourth time, everything seems a bit too...familiar. Maybe it's time to pick a new relaxation spot when the doorman at the remote 5 star resort calls you by name (even though you've never stayed there) and asks you in Indonesian, "Ibu Guru! Apa kabar? Mau kembali ke Gili T, ya bu? Senang di Kalimantan? Kenapa tidak kerja di sini?"
Miss Teacher, how are you? You want to come back again to Gili T, ya? Are you happy in Kalimantan? Why don't you work here?
Or maybe it's time to leave when trying to negotiate lower prices so as not to pay harga bule (foreigner price) fails to work. Take for example, when I attempted to rent a mask and fins for snorkeling and the adolescent boy at the counter snidely remarked that if I didn't want to pay 50,000 rupiah for the best snorkeling gear (i.e. worn fins and a mask that probably leaks), I could go elsewhere. "Yes, miss, I realize that you speak Indonesian, but this is the local price." Like hell it is.
Again...maybe I need to find a new spot to nongkrong.
As I sit on the beach and watch the sun set over Mount Agung, Bali's towering volcano that faces Lombok, I realize how much of a whirlwind nine months I've experienced. I've had my remote teaching experience in Bontang and my bule luxury trips in Ubud and the Gilis. I've eaten street food off carts no American (save ETAs and Peace Corps kids) would ever touch and sampled delicious wines in exquisite restaurants. I've seen cobras in my backyard and white families with matching Bintang (Indonesian beer) shirts in Kuta. It's been nine months of extremes...and nine months that have been the best months of my life. I'm ready to see family back home and yet part of me is sad to leave my Indonesian family here. Insyallah, I will come back some day to my home in Bontang to hug my friends and see my beautiful students. Maybe I can visit next year.
Back to my little world on Gili T...
Is it weird to admit that after being in Bali several days, I feel more at home when I can hear the mosque calling people to prayer? That I take conscious effort in not looking like a trashy foreigner by throwing a shirt over my bikini when I see men nearby? That I'd rather eat Padang food than Western food? I didn't realize how accustomed I've become to kampung (village) Indonesia until I returned to resort Indonesia. When I was handed a fork in a restaurant for my Indonesian food (paket nasi - with rice), I think I glared at the waiter like he was crazy. How am I supposed to eat rice with a fork? You need a SPOON, genius. Everyone knows that.
So, I'm torn. I love Indonesia and I'm nervous to return home to the frigid States (both emotionally and thermally). At the same time, I'm a bit tired of "Taxi? You need taxi? I have room...cheap price? You want? Have a look, please!" Imagine walking into Nordstroms and being solicited like that. Not happening.
I think I'll go home for a bit...and then come back to my renewed grant, nine more months of island hopping, learning about cultures, and improving my Bahasa Indonesia. In fact, I think I'll go home...Tuesday. That's right, four days left and then I'll be lugging my suitcases across four airports.
On a final note, another reason it's time to leave the Gilis and go home? When people start making jokes about how my nine month stint in Indonesia was a cover-up for an oopsie pregnancy. Not true and not funny. Even a local Sasak ibu on the beach jokingly asked where my baby was when I told her I'd been teaching for nine months. Harus pulang.
Dear AMINEF...please make next year's grant 10 months. Love, Ibu Guru.
Miss Teacher, how are you? You want to come back again to Gili T, ya? Are you happy in Kalimantan? Why don't you work here?
Or maybe it's time to leave when trying to negotiate lower prices so as not to pay harga bule (foreigner price) fails to work. Take for example, when I attempted to rent a mask and fins for snorkeling and the adolescent boy at the counter snidely remarked that if I didn't want to pay 50,000 rupiah for the best snorkeling gear (i.e. worn fins and a mask that probably leaks), I could go elsewhere. "Yes, miss, I realize that you speak Indonesian, but this is the local price." Like hell it is.
Again...maybe I need to find a new spot to nongkrong.
As I sit on the beach and watch the sun set over Mount Agung, Bali's towering volcano that faces Lombok, I realize how much of a whirlwind nine months I've experienced. I've had my remote teaching experience in Bontang and my bule luxury trips in Ubud and the Gilis. I've eaten street food off carts no American (save ETAs and Peace Corps kids) would ever touch and sampled delicious wines in exquisite restaurants. I've seen cobras in my backyard and white families with matching Bintang (Indonesian beer) shirts in Kuta. It's been nine months of extremes...and nine months that have been the best months of my life. I'm ready to see family back home and yet part of me is sad to leave my Indonesian family here. Insyallah, I will come back some day to my home in Bontang to hug my friends and see my beautiful students. Maybe I can visit next year.
Back to my little world on Gili T...
Is it weird to admit that after being in Bali several days, I feel more at home when I can hear the mosque calling people to prayer? That I take conscious effort in not looking like a trashy foreigner by throwing a shirt over my bikini when I see men nearby? That I'd rather eat Padang food than Western food? I didn't realize how accustomed I've become to kampung (village) Indonesia until I returned to resort Indonesia. When I was handed a fork in a restaurant for my Indonesian food (paket nasi - with rice), I think I glared at the waiter like he was crazy. How am I supposed to eat rice with a fork? You need a SPOON, genius. Everyone knows that.
So, I'm torn. I love Indonesia and I'm nervous to return home to the frigid States (both emotionally and thermally). At the same time, I'm a bit tired of "Taxi? You need taxi? I have room...cheap price? You want? Have a look, please!" Imagine walking into Nordstroms and being solicited like that. Not happening.
I think I'll go home for a bit...and then come back to my renewed grant, nine more months of island hopping, learning about cultures, and improving my Bahasa Indonesia. In fact, I think I'll go home...Tuesday. That's right, four days left and then I'll be lugging my suitcases across four airports.
On a final note, another reason it's time to leave the Gilis and go home? When people start making jokes about how my nine month stint in Indonesia was a cover-up for an oopsie pregnancy. Not true and not funny. Even a local Sasak ibu on the beach jokingly asked where my baby was when I told her I'd been teaching for nine months. Harus pulang.
Dear AMINEF...please make next year's grant 10 months. Love, Ibu Guru.
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