I thought the germis (drizzle, one of my favorite Indonesian words) last night would put a damper on the new year celebrations but the roads were still packed all evening with an unreasonable number of honking motorbikes in our small city. According to friends it is popular to just drive around on New Years Eve, not actually go anywhere, just jalan jalan. I also learned that since young women do not usually go out at night usually- something I have been suspicious of and not quite following myself- new years is one special night when they can, making it “a night for lovers” where “all the hotels are booked.” Ahem.
So in the evening a friend picked me up and we went to another friend’s house to partake in the tradition of grilling corn and fish over a makeshift aluminum contraption that used burning coconut shells as fuel. I was surprised to see how in Indonesia, like in America, work does not stay at the office and with a collection of staff form different HIV/AIDS organizations I got to listen in on the gossip about current programs, challenges and staff. Well, it turned out to be quite a feast with plenty of fried tempeh, pempek, martabak, and people coming and stopping by all night.
Soon midnight was close approaching and the rain was not showing any signs of stopping, so my friend and I braved it and joined the crowds of young Indonesians driving to the Governor’s office, one of the two sights for launching fireworks. By the time we got there the fireworks had started and people were cheering, honking, and blowing the 40 cent horns that had been sold on the side of the road during the week leading up. In order to make my early curfew (yes I had a curfew), we made just quick stop by Carolyn’s office where their own private party consisted of soda pop, PG 13 American movies and dance lessons. Soaked and cold from the long drive home through wind and rain left me for the first time feeling that my mandi (bath by ladling water over oneself) was warmer than me!
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