On seeing beautiful Sumatra

While millions of Americans celebrated Thanksgiving last Thursday and enjoyed their four day weekend, here in Indonesia people celebrated Friday’s Idul Adha by killing lots of cows and goats during their slightly shorter three day holiday.  On a last minute spur, Carolyn and I decided to use those days to get out of Jambi for a change.  Judging that a night bus would give us the most waking hours to enjoy our “liburan,” we jumped on a night bus to Bukittinggi in West Sumatra.  Unfortunately that bus was booked full so we resorted to taking a bus headed for Padang and then suffered the 3am rough wake up shake by our bus driver telling us to get out and join the other bus that was also pulled over on the side of the road, that one going to Bukittingi.  We complied and tried to catch a few more hours of sleep in this thankfully less air-conditioned bus.  After the 5am stop to let our fellow travelers pray at a roadside mosque I managed to get an hour’s sleep before we arrived in the hill town of Bukittingi.

Our plan to tour around the quaint city led us to an old hilltop fort used by the former Dutch colonial rulers and then to the saddest zoo I have ever seen on the adjacent hill.  The animals were kept in such poor environments that I don’t wish to describe them, but it still didn’t seem to put off the many families there enjoying their day off.  In the evening we found a café with a nice view of the town, had some good Western fare, and realized we were finally in a town that had more than the four foreigners of Jambi; we saw seven buleh and were so shocked by the sight we just had to stare at them like the Indonesians do to us.

One of the animals kept at the zoo: a seagull

The next morning Carolyn and I caught a bus to Danau Maninjau, a small sleepy town on the edge of lake surrounded on all sides by steep hills.  The scenery was absolutely breathtaking and as our cramped bus descended the 44 switchback turns to the bottom, I realized that this was what I would spend the rest of my year in Indonesia seeking: beautiful, peaceful and remote landscapes.

Our bus headed north along the lake and eventually stopped at a small road sign indicating that we had reached “Arlen’s Beach Paradise.”  The short trek through rice paddies soon opened up to our little piece of lakefront paradise. 

Even though all the cabins were occupied by a noisy group of foreigners on vacation from Pekanbaru, we managed to have a relaxing stay full of swimming, napping in the warm sun on the grassy lawn, eating good food while the rain pattered on the tin roof above us, and laughing at the three local boys swimming that demanded our attention.  To top it all off there was privacy- something almost unheard of for foreigners here and I enjoyed it immensely by reading an entire book.

Well it was a short trip and we headed back to Bukittingi the next day for our return bus that ended up leaving two hours after the time we were told.  This bus ride turned out to be even more miserable as I had an extra friendly male passenger sitting a little too close to me that kept me from sleeping most of the night.  But oh well, you have to be tough here and I am back in Jambi now holding back a desire to swear off night buses and am just looking forward to my next escape to a remote piece of nature.

Journey into the land of palm oil plantations

Since life in Jambi can feel a bit isolated at times with the nearest city being hours away and even farther to a fellow volunteer, I have been taking any opportunity to go on a road trip and see Jambi province outside of the main city.  To be clear, I call basically any kind of trip a road trip here because I am never fully informed as to what the plan is, how long we will be gone or what will be required of me during the trip.  Yesterday posed this kind of opportunity when Sumi and another coworker Dewi had to travel to a different district, Tanjung Jabung Timur, with the ostensible mission of delivering SIKOK’s completed report on their narcotic survey of that district.  We set off on the two-hour drive and I thoroughly enjoyed playing with Dewi’s two-year-old daughter who was also tagging along and watching the rural village scenery pass by.  When most people think of Sumatra, images of jungles, orangutans, and misty volcanoes usually come to mind.  Well the part of Sumatra I live in is quite the opposite.  It is so endlessly flat here on the east side of the mountains that I was abnormally thrilled when we drove through some low hills, and the few forests we came across quickly gave out to palm oil plantations.  I still think the area holds some beauty, if just for its ruggedness, though at times I was reminded of previous trips spent driving through endless cornfields in the Midwest. 

When we arrived at our destination city, the man we were supposed to meet with was not available (sometimes I really doubt that meetings are scheduled even in government offices), so we got an early lunch at a Padang restaurant and stopped at the city’s new mosque for afternoon prayers.  Dewi, who was one of my students in the office English class, used the time to review some of her new vocabulary with me; this included future, past, and present, mosque pronounced as mosk and not mos-ke, and the difference between nurse and breastfeed.

Finally at 2pm we finished the meeting that turned out to be only our first stop and we headed to the local police office.  Sumi wanted to get data on narcotic-related crime in the area but due to the pervasive bureaucratic atmosphere, this took conversations with multiple self-important men in various departments.  I took a break at one point to go find ice cream with Dewi and her daughter.  Meeting up with Sumi post-ice cream, there was one conversation I found particularly amusing because while Sumi was there to discuss a serious issue with the man in charge of narcotics, he kept breaking off their conversation to engage me on unrelated topics.  The first time was the normal, what would you like to drink, tea or coffee?  I expressed that I wanted coffee without sugar, a shocking request for Indonesians who consider “bitter coffee” unpalatable.  He allowed my request after double-checking and then resumed their conversation until he suddenly turned to me and asked what my name and my age were.  This information satisfied him for another five minutes until he decided to grill me about why I don’t like sugar in my coffee, how could I enjoy it?  I just told him my go-to response “This is normal in America” and we made it another five minutes until the next interrogation started over my relationship status, do you have a boyfriend? Do you want an Indonesian boyfriend?  The funny thing is both of these questions always require a careful answer because Indonesians listen intently to my response and it can quickly turn the conversation in an awkward direction.  It is first off strange to them that I am here single, so saying that I don’t want a boyfriend/husband is not acceptable, and refusing the possibility of an Indonesian boyfriend/husband would be rude to them but telling an Indonesian man that I want an Indonesian boyfriend would be too inviting.  So in my basic Bahasa Indonesian I explain that I am still young and only just got here, so maybe later (but when I am feeling lazy and just want a guy to leave me alone I say I am already married to an American man).  Somewhat satisfied with my response, this man thought it would be a good idea though for me to go on the popular Indonesian dating show “Take Her Out!” to find an Indonesian man and got quite excited describing how that experience would go for me.

We finally escaped the police office and I managed to evade all requests for my phone number.  The drive home though wasn’t quite as enjoyable when I started feeling car sick from our driver’s insane driving.  I don’t think that any Indonesians are taught the value of maintaining a steady speed and avoiding swerving into oncoming traffic to get one car ahead.  No one else seemed as concerned about me for our safety and we eventually returned home.

Health situation in Padang

I recently mailed off a few letters of inquiry to request funding for the community based health management program we plan to do in Padang.  Hopefully we can start soon because this article I found shows that they are still really needing a lot of aid.

Alert- fish out of water

I thought I had grown fairly accustomed and accepting of the ubiquitous small animals that appear in odd places, at odd times in my house.  The cockroaches that collect in our mandi (bathroom) at night, the geckos that scurry across the walls and ceiling in abnormally large numbers, the consistent trails of ants, and rats scurrying around outside, not to mention the chickens...  Well the other day I was a little more surprised, however, when a tiny black kitten found its way into my room and hid in the corner while I was sitting reading a book.  I coaxed it outside and had it been a little cleaner would have given it more attention.  But last night I was dumbfounded as I opened the mandi door to go back to my bedroom and there was a fish on the floor in front of me.  I mean a live fish flopping around like it was looking for the river a mile away.  I yelled to Sumi to alert her of the fact that there was a fish on the ground but she did not seem to think it was a big deal, eventually voicing back from her bathroom that it must have jumped out of the bucket.  What bucket? I thought, since when did we have a holding pond in between the kitchen and the bathroom?  There are always a number of buckets there but I was pretty certain we used them to hold extra water for washing dishes when the faucet is turned off.  Apparently not.  Again I was shouted at to just put the fish back into the bucket, but easier said than done.  All the while this fish is still flopping around in circles and disturbing me in my desire to just go to bed.  So I bent over and tried to grab the fish, but of course its slippery skin and surprisingly sharp spines prevented from getting any grip on it.  Last resort, I had no choice but to use the ladle I usually use for bathing to scoop up the fish and put it into the bucket.  I hope it was the right bucket but I think it was since we had fish for dinner tonight.

Durian Party

Thursday morning I set of to work with a somewhat sure plan of what I was going to be involved in that day but it did not take long until any sense of order or control was shaken once again.  One of my coworkers, Dedi, had invited me to visit a friend of his in a nearby district of Jambi called Batanghari.  His friend being the Deputy Bupati (like a deputy mayor) made the trip somewhat of a big deal and kept getting postponed and rescheduled, all with eagerness towards the promise that we would be going to a “durian park.”  So when the day came and I arrived at the office planning to promptly head out, the fact that an unscheduled meeting was beginning to materialize in the conference room made me unsurprised when Sumi said we would be leaving a little later

When the meeting finally came towards a close, the eight of us, including Katie, Carolyn and a few coworkers, packed up into the van and started the hour journey just two hours later than planned.  Even though the plan had been to go directly to our host’s house, with our stomachs grumbling it was decided we would get lunch first before heading to his house.  So after our delicious (and free) lunch we traveled on, visiting our host’s house long enough to make small talk, have a cup of generously sweetened tea and a few awkward silences.  Next, the plan was to go to a durian park, but of course that did not mean that it was nearby so it took us another hour drive, a boat ride across a river, and a modest walk through a traditional, i.e. poor, village and into a forest until we arrived at the anticipated durian park, all the while our group swelling in size as unfamiliar men tagged along also excited about the prospect of eating durian.

The durian park itself turned out to be a small forest with an elevated hut that we were told was used by people to watch out for falling durian to collect.  A picnic table was set up by this hut, and like guests of honor we were seated next to the Deputy Bupati at the head of the table.  When they opened the first durian I made a remark about “durian number one” in Indonesian that received plenty of laughter.  While I made that comment knowing we would be eating a few at this durian party, I was not prepared for the 20 or so durian that were splayed open and laid on the table in front of us with expectant looks and gestures.  Nor was I prepared for the disheveled and loud Indonesian man sitting across from me who every time I looked at him was sucking on yet another durian pit with the white flech of the fruit left marking a ring around his mouth.  I was surprised at myself and a little impressed that I had five whole pieces of this pungent fruit that I am gradually growing to love even though some people may be incredulous at the possibility of that.

Katie, Carolyn and I with the Deputy Bupati gorging ourselves at the Durian Party. 

 

I was instructed to put a chunk of durian fruit into my cup of coffee.  Never thought that the flavor of dark Sumatran coffee could be overpowered so quickly.

The entire village was mesmerized by our visit with half of them following us to the durian party and then back to our boat to see us off home.

Our visit to the durian park ended with a requested speech on what we Americans were doing in Indonesia, a promise by me that I would come back and stay a night with them in their village sometime (?!), and dozens of group photos.  Since Katie, Carolyn and I expected this to be the end of our trip and we were looking forward to taking our weary bodies back to Jambi, we were surprised when our van pulled up at an unfamiliar house and we were informed that we had been invited to dinner at someone’s house.  On the bright side it was one of the best sate meals I have had in Indonesia so far, meaning I only counted two chunks of fat on my skewers compared to the normal half meat half fat ratio.

After dinner was finished and the men had satisfied themselves with smoking enough cloves it was time to head home.  It didn’t take long for all five of us women to fall asleep and we were grateful, but groggy when we arrived home to Jambi late in the night. 

An Obama supporter in Jambi

I spotted this woman wearing a cheap Obama t-shirt the other day.  It is a frequent occurrence that when I meet people and tell them I am from the US they immediately start praising Obama and claiming family relations to him.  Since he did live in Jakarta as a child this is kind of cute but when it is an ojek driver in North Sulawesi saying they are cousins I have to laugh.  Despite this popularity, this woman was the first person I have seen actually wearing Obama gear.  The line on the back of the shirt though actually read “Yes we can change.”  

Not your average morning walk

This morning I went on a city wide “Relaxed Walk.”  Not a 5K walk/run, or one that was in support of any cause, just a Jalan Santai.  A friend was on the organizing committee of this event and it drew a surprising number of people to its kick off at the governor’s office.  The walk itself was no more than three kilometers though and having anticipated the short distance I had worn just my Tevas; Indonesians' general distaste for walking would not let it last too long and any exercise in this climate is unpleasant after 6:30am (the walk started at 7am).  I was surprised though when I realized a number of people were going barefoot and carrying their sandals!  I think they are just more comfortable like that since people go barefoot in my office all the time...  Also, the route of the walk just followed along the road like a normal run/walk in the US, except they let cars and motorbikes share the road too!  Exercise is much less enjoyable when you are breathing in exhaust from the cars driving by just a foot away from you!  Well, the event attracted more than just walkers and many people just hung around the start area eating snacks and waiting for the big event, the post-walk raffle where TWO motorbikes were being given away.  After we finished the walk and enjoyed some fresh soymilk, we waited around hoping that Sumi’s surprisingly large stack of raffle tickets would win.  No luck there and it was getting uncomfortably hot by 9am so we headed back home for a little istirahat (rest).

Organizers holding back a group of little kids from storming through the starting point too soon.