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| Boats near Marina Ancol in Jakarta |
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| Outdoor shower |
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| Mark in Restaurant |
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| Pier on Pulau Kotok |
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| View from Pulau Kotok |
Monday, October 17, 2011
Pulau Kotok
October 15-16, 2011. Mark and I went to Pulau Kotok in Pulau Seribu off the coast of Jakarta. The snorkeling was excellent and it was nice to relax.
Wednesday, October 12, 2011
Multiple Requests
October 12, 2011. On Sunday, October 9, Mark and I went to Bogor Botanical Gardens. Sunday is a popular day for the gardens and it was pretty crowded. There were a lot of groups having meetings with loudspeakers on the grass, lots of souvenir and ice cream sellers, and a lot of people who like to take pictures of the occasional white person.
We were requested to do many things I feel the average visitor to the park is not requested to do. For example, within the first minutes of being in the park, I was approached by a college student, surrounded by at least five of her classmates, who asked me to do an interview to help her complete her assignment. We continued to be asked throughout our visit. I guess there was a group of college students who descended on the park with an assignment to do an interview with a foreigner. It got to the point where my response to any college age student approaching us with the question, "Excuse me, can you please help me?" was, "Yes, but I don't have time to do an interview." At times they seemed a bit surprised by this response because although they had not yet asked for an interview, I had already replied that it was the one thing with which I would be unable to help them. This response was usually followed by a few moments of silence, comprehension, and a look of slight disappointment. I don't take joy in disappointing people and I am happy to help someone complete their assignment and do an interview, but I can't do interviews with every person from the class and still have time to look at the gardens. I did, however, like surprising them with my answer. I guess they hadn't thought about the possibility that some of their other classmates might have gotten to us first.
The zoological museum attached to the botanical gardens is filled with many types of preserved animals. When we went in we were immediately approached by some adults with a group of small children. I'm not good at guessing ages, but they were about waist high. At first we tried to avoid and outrun the children with pieces of paper coming right for us, but eventually they caught up. The children were encouraged by the adults to approach us and ask if we had seven minutes so they could ask us questions to practice their English. The children were a bit hesitant, so the adults took over, and after we were asked several times, instead of running away (one effective possibility if you are not interested in looking at the rest the the museum) I decided to stop and told them that I had one minute instead of seven. They seemed cool with one minute. What happened next was actually pretty cute, despite the fact we were in the middle of experiencing a pretty bizarre situation. The adults had the children line up in a line in front of us. Maybe there were about five little girls. They then got out their several sheets of scripted questions and read them to us in unison. I think I was just supposed to let them ask me the questions and then give them a short answer so they could move onto the next question, but they didn't tell me this. After each question, they waited for my answer, and although I deviated from the script on more than one occasion by adding a question of my own in return, they did not let this affect them in any way, ignored my question, and continued right along with their script.
The previous two situations were experienced by us for the first time in Bogor Botanical Gardens. The request for pictures has happened on several previous occasions since we've been in Indonesia, it was just a bit out of control during our Sunday visit to the Botanical Gardens.
After we had escaped the first request for an interview, we walked a bit. I find it to be quite obvious when someone is taking a picture of you with a cell phone. I noticed this to be happening while we were walking. It continued all day. While I was trying to find a bird in some trees with a really interesting call (I was unsuccessful), our first official request for a picture occurred. We also found this to be a bit odd and funny since we are both really sweaty and Mark's shirt already had the sweat blotches on it, but they didn't seem to mind. I hope that's not why they wanted to take our picture. After we consented, first the woman took a picture of us with the man and then they switched and the man took a picture of us with the woman.
As I wrote earlier, strangers have requested to have their picture taken with us before, and we have also watched it happen to other white people. At times I was getting a little annoyed at the not so discrete discreet photographs. At one point we sat down on a bench to take a break and have a drink. There was a group of school girls sitting on a bench across the path. I noticed a few pictures being taken of us, so to make myself feel better I decided to get out my camera and take pictures of them. They definitely did not seem to mind. As soon as I took their picture, they all got up and approached us. It seems I had opened the door for them to come and ask us for a posed photograph. We consented to one picture, but I think they took that to mean one pose, because obviously the picture taker must also have her turn to be in the picture. (At least we didn't have to pose in every possible permutation like the tourists who had their picture taken with some school girls in what turned out to be at least a ten minute photo shoot. We observed this one afternoon from the safety of the second floor windows of Cafe Batavia.) Before we consented though, they had to agree to have their picture taken as well, and they had to answer the question I have decided to ask to all future picture requesters, which is, "Why do you want to take our picture?" The reply I got from the school girl, once she figured out what I was asking with the help of her friend, was, "Because we like you." You can't say no to that. Once my Bahasa Indonesia improves and the language barrier isn't so high, maybe I will be able to get some more interesting responses to my picture question. Maybe one of the responses will be, "Because I have never seen anyone sweat as much as you!" That would be pretty sweet.
The gardens are actually quite nice and I think a return visit is definitely in the future, provided it is not on a Sunday. We took the train from Jakarta to Bogor. It cost 7000 rupiah (Rp), which is about 80 US cents depending on the current exchange rate, and took about an hour to get there. We also learned that the first car of some trains is for women only. On the way there I followed Mark when he was shooed out of the women only car so we could sit together.
Bird highlight: I saw a blue kingfisher grab something out of the river that runs through the Botanical Gardens. I saw it fly in and sit on a tree branch above the river. It was hard to miss because it was so blue. Unfortunately, the branch it picked to sit on was blocked from our view by leaves. After it grabbed something from the river it flew off into the trees and we lost sight of it. It was definitely blue and white, possibly a Colllared Kingfisher, but I can't be sure.
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| Bogor Botanical Gardens |
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| Souvenirs |
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| Mark in the Orchid House |
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| Would you like to take your picture with someone this sweaty? |
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| They were taking our picture, so... |
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| The resulting picture exchange |
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| Mark on the swinging bridge |
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| Candice by tree roots |
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| Roots |
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| Becak - Bicycle taxi |
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| Houses in Bogor |
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| View from cafe - Can you see the gunung (mountain)? |
Monday, October 10, 2011
Climate Change and Perspective
October 11, 2011. Interesting photographs showing the extent to which Himalayan glaciers have shrunk in the past 80 years. These mountains are so enormous, it is difficult to get a sense of scale. The climber in the picture gives you some perspective.
From BBC News: Rivers of ice: Vanishing glaciers
http://www.bbc.co.uk/news/world-south-asia-15216875
Below are some pictures taken in Bogor Botanical Gardens about a one hour train ride from Jakarta.
From BBC News: Rivers of ice: Vanishing glaciers
http://www.bbc.co.uk/news/world-south-asia-15216875
Below are some pictures taken in Bogor Botanical Gardens about a one hour train ride from Jakarta.
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| Cool roots |
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| Mark with roots |
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| Big roots |
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| Very big roots |
The Rainbow Troops
October 10, 2011. The first Indonesian Literature in Translation Book Club meeting is tomorrow. That meant that today was dedicated to reading the entire book. Although I would have preferred to read this book at my leisure, I'm very happy that when I attend the first meeting I can say with confidence that I have read the book. I enjoyed it and recommend it. I feel it does provide some insight into some of the poverty that exists in this country. This is still happening today.
Tangent: On the train to Bogor this weekend I saw a woman bathing in water in a dirty open sewer. I feel a lot of Americans don't comprehend the conditions some people are forced to live in because of their poverty. I've heard some Americans in Indonesia talk about how they can't believe that people here do this or that, for example, bathe in filthy water. I would never choose to bathe in dirty sewer water. Who would if given the choice? I'm sure that the people here who do bathe in dirty sewer water do not choose to do so over bathing in clean water. If the choice was between not bathing at all or bathing in dirty water, then what would you choose?
One of the main messages of the book is the importance of access to education for all people. It is entertaining to read about the daily lives of the children. It is also heartbreaking to read about passionate, brilliant, and capable students give up their dreams and aspirations because of the necessity of supporting a family that has been living in poverty for generations.
I would be interested to hear what some of my students at Kennedy High School would have to say about this book, especially Chapter 31 which touches on the village children's attitude toward school. Although the circumstances are much different, I would be interested to see if they would draw any parallels to their own experiences and what they thought about the final chapters of the book.
This is a very popular book in Indonesia and was made into a very popular movie.
Tangent: On the train to Bogor this weekend I saw a woman bathing in water in a dirty open sewer. I feel a lot of Americans don't comprehend the conditions some people are forced to live in because of their poverty. I've heard some Americans in Indonesia talk about how they can't believe that people here do this or that, for example, bathe in filthy water. I would never choose to bathe in dirty sewer water. Who would if given the choice? I'm sure that the people here who do bathe in dirty sewer water do not choose to do so over bathing in clean water. If the choice was between not bathing at all or bathing in dirty water, then what would you choose?
One of the main messages of the book is the importance of access to education for all people. It is entertaining to read about the daily lives of the children. It is also heartbreaking to read about passionate, brilliant, and capable students give up their dreams and aspirations because of the necessity of supporting a family that has been living in poverty for generations.
I would be interested to hear what some of my students at Kennedy High School would have to say about this book, especially Chapter 31 which touches on the village children's attitude toward school. Although the circumstances are much different, I would be interested to see if they would draw any parallels to their own experiences and what they thought about the final chapters of the book.
This is a very popular book in Indonesia and was made into a very popular movie.
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| Laskar Pelangi |
Motorcycles for Bicycles
October 10, 2011. I'm making some very crude sketches in my journal about the motorcycles I see on the streets. Not so much the motorcycles per se, I'm more interested in the cargo and the amazing amount and variety of cargo transported on motorcycles.
The other day traffic was stopped because some beautiful green eggs had fallen out of a huge crate of green eggs on the back of a motorcycle and the owner was salvaging the ones that had not broken. Amazingly, given the traffic issues here, everyone seemed really patient while the two women picked up the eggs. I liked the patience.
I've seen a motorcycle with a stack of t-shirts individually wrapped in the ubiquitous, protective, self-sealing plastic bags stacked up high on the back seat of the motorcycle. The column of t-shirts was taller than the driver.
I've seen a motorcycle with at least 20 mannequin top-halves (i.e. the head and torso) strapped on the back and to the sides of the motorcycle.
If you've been following this blog, you know I am fascinated by motorcycle transport. One of my recent favorites involves a family. On the motorcycle, the son was sitting in front of his dad who was driving and the mom was sitting on back of the motorcycle holding what I assumed to be a brand new bicycle for the son cross-ways on the motorcycle. Nice!
I really want to take pictures and document all of this fabulous motorcycle cargo, but I either don't have my camera or I am not quick enough... Once my Bahasa improves, maybe I will be able to explain to the taxi driver why he must speed up and/or slow down next to a particular motorcycle so I can get the perfect shot. Because of my experience here as a very obvious white person, I feel justified in taking pictures of random strangers. To learn more about my justification of imposing on the privacy of motorcycle drivers, see the Bogor Botanical Gardens post.
I often attempt to practice my Bahasa Indonesia with my taxi drivers. The other evening we were in a taxi and I steered the conversation to motorcycles. When I told the taxi driver I was interested in buying a motorcycle, he proceeded to get quite pushy with Mark to tell him our address. This made our neighbor, who was traveling with us, very uncomfortable. I believe the taxi driver was hoping to bring over some motorcycles for us to buy or something like that. The pressure of this situation was relieved when I made it clear that I did not want to 'buy' a motorcycle, I just 'wanted' a motorcycle. The sole purpose of my statement was to relieve the pressure on Mark to hand out our address, although the entire incident was a bit odd considering the taxi driver did pick us up at our apartment, so he already knew where we lived... Anyway, I accept the possibility that my dream of owning a motorcycle in Jakarta may never be realized, but I do seriously think about buying a motorcycle. However, I am sure of one thing. If I do buy a motorcycle, it will not be from a random taxi driver.
The funny part of the story is that when we were talking about which motorcycles are the best motorcycles, the driver was talking about bigger bikes, but when he found out that I was the one interested in getting a motorcycle, he made it clear that I should definitely have a smaller bike. I agree, but I don't think our reasoning is the same as to why I should have a smaller bike. My reasoning is based on issues related to inexperience. His reasoning was most certainly gender-based. I would love to show this taxi driver some big American women on their pimped out Harleys... I do appreciate cultural exchange, especially when it goes both ways.
The other day traffic was stopped because some beautiful green eggs had fallen out of a huge crate of green eggs on the back of a motorcycle and the owner was salvaging the ones that had not broken. Amazingly, given the traffic issues here, everyone seemed really patient while the two women picked up the eggs. I liked the patience.
I've seen a motorcycle with a stack of t-shirts individually wrapped in the ubiquitous, protective, self-sealing plastic bags stacked up high on the back seat of the motorcycle. The column of t-shirts was taller than the driver.
I've seen a motorcycle with at least 20 mannequin top-halves (i.e. the head and torso) strapped on the back and to the sides of the motorcycle.
If you've been following this blog, you know I am fascinated by motorcycle transport. One of my recent favorites involves a family. On the motorcycle, the son was sitting in front of his dad who was driving and the mom was sitting on back of the motorcycle holding what I assumed to be a brand new bicycle for the son cross-ways on the motorcycle. Nice!
I really want to take pictures and document all of this fabulous motorcycle cargo, but I either don't have my camera or I am not quick enough... Once my Bahasa improves, maybe I will be able to explain to the taxi driver why he must speed up and/or slow down next to a particular motorcycle so I can get the perfect shot. Because of my experience here as a very obvious white person, I feel justified in taking pictures of random strangers. To learn more about my justification of imposing on the privacy of motorcycle drivers, see the Bogor Botanical Gardens post.
I often attempt to practice my Bahasa Indonesia with my taxi drivers. The other evening we were in a taxi and I steered the conversation to motorcycles. When I told the taxi driver I was interested in buying a motorcycle, he proceeded to get quite pushy with Mark to tell him our address. This made our neighbor, who was traveling with us, very uncomfortable. I believe the taxi driver was hoping to bring over some motorcycles for us to buy or something like that. The pressure of this situation was relieved when I made it clear that I did not want to 'buy' a motorcycle, I just 'wanted' a motorcycle. The sole purpose of my statement was to relieve the pressure on Mark to hand out our address, although the entire incident was a bit odd considering the taxi driver did pick us up at our apartment, so he already knew where we lived... Anyway, I accept the possibility that my dream of owning a motorcycle in Jakarta may never be realized, but I do seriously think about buying a motorcycle. However, I am sure of one thing. If I do buy a motorcycle, it will not be from a random taxi driver.
The funny part of the story is that when we were talking about which motorcycles are the best motorcycles, the driver was talking about bigger bikes, but when he found out that I was the one interested in getting a motorcycle, he made it clear that I should definitely have a smaller bike. I agree, but I don't think our reasoning is the same as to why I should have a smaller bike. My reasoning is based on issues related to inexperience. His reasoning was most certainly gender-based. I would love to show this taxi driver some big American women on their pimped out Harleys... I do appreciate cultural exchange, especially when it goes both ways.
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| Motorcycle sketches |
Wednesday, October 5, 2011
Wayang, Ojeks, and Batik
October 5. 2011. I've had a full day. I started off by going to a Wayang Golek performance, a puppet show. It was accompanied by gamelan and pretty spectacular. There is one puppet master, the Dalang, and he had the puppets sword fighting, flying, chopping heads off, etc. Wayang Golek is with 3D wooden puppets. The cutest old guy (which made me think of my sister, RP) was there selling his hand carved wooden puppets. They were gorgeous and I would have bought one, but they were mostly sold out by the time I got there at the end of the show. I did get his name though, so maybe I'll be able to track him down. Puppets are a big deal in Jakarta and there is a puppet museum here, which I plan to check out soon. The other type of puppets are Wayang Kulit, which are 2D shadow puppets.
After the puppet show, my first in Jakarta, I had another first. There was a long line of cars with drivers waiting to pick up the women who were at the performance with a few taxis in this long line. I felt pretty savvy, because I decided to walk out to the street to get a taxi. There were many taxis available, but there was also an ojek driver waiting right outside the gate. An ojek is a motorcycle and driver who transports passengers for money - a motorcycle taxi, if you will. I have not yet ridden on an ojek and to be perfectly honest have been a bit afraid since I have seen how the motorcycles swarm through the traffic.
He asked me if I needed an ojek. I asked him how much to take me home and he said Rp. 40,000. The taxi to get there cost Rp. 30,000, so I told him Rp. 20,000. He told me it was far and offered Rp. 25,000. I told him that I would just get a taxi and then he said ok, come on. I asked if he meant Rp. 20,000. and he said yes. (Don't be impressed by my bargaining skills, I probably still grossly overpaid, but it is only an issue if I am aware that I overpaid, and I am not sure how much ojek drivers "should" charge so it is all good). I still wasn't sure if today was the day I would take an ojek, but with the bargaining process completed, I felt obligated to hop on. He handed me a helmet and I reminded him for the third time "pulan-pulan" (slowly). He understood. I never felt afraid because of his driving, however, I did feel a bit afraid the entire time. But I told myself that since I was now on the ojek, I might as well relax and enjoy it because everything else was really out of my control. While I was white-knuckling the handle behind my seat and "relaxing," I was contemplating my mortality and my plan that if I was ever about to fall off, I would grab onto the driver, because I did not intend to fall off by myself. He turned out to be an excellent ojek driver. He avoided all the grates and potholes even when it was an inconvenience, perhaps because of my initial insistence on pulan-pulan. It is quite nice to ride on an ojek. When you are moving it is very cool and it is faster than a taxi because you can weave in and out of traffic. I will do it again. I did have to wipe off some smut which accumulated on my face by the time I got home.
The best part of that adventure was the look on the guards' faces when I pulled up in front of the apartment compound. Their mouths sort of dropped. There was some sort of exchange between the guards and the ojek driver and he had a huge smile on his face when he told the guards "pulan-pulan." As I was walking through the gates, the guards asked me, "Ojek?" I told them it was fast. I felt very cool (literally and figuratively) riding on the back of an ojek. I also feel I have taken the first step toward owing a motorcycle...
When I got home, I went batik shopping with my new friend, Kristin. Several people told me that I should meet her and that I would really like her, but of course, when people say something like that I am very skeptical, by nature and by training. Turns out the people were right. I really like her. I bought a few pieces of batik and am hoping that Yana can work her magic on them.
It was a very lovely day.
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| Ode to RP: Aming Sutisna - Wayang Golek Craftsman |
After the puppet show, my first in Jakarta, I had another first. There was a long line of cars with drivers waiting to pick up the women who were at the performance with a few taxis in this long line. I felt pretty savvy, because I decided to walk out to the street to get a taxi. There were many taxis available, but there was also an ojek driver waiting right outside the gate. An ojek is a motorcycle and driver who transports passengers for money - a motorcycle taxi, if you will. I have not yet ridden on an ojek and to be perfectly honest have been a bit afraid since I have seen how the motorcycles swarm through the traffic.
He asked me if I needed an ojek. I asked him how much to take me home and he said Rp. 40,000. The taxi to get there cost Rp. 30,000, so I told him Rp. 20,000. He told me it was far and offered Rp. 25,000. I told him that I would just get a taxi and then he said ok, come on. I asked if he meant Rp. 20,000. and he said yes. (Don't be impressed by my bargaining skills, I probably still grossly overpaid, but it is only an issue if I am aware that I overpaid, and I am not sure how much ojek drivers "should" charge so it is all good). I still wasn't sure if today was the day I would take an ojek, but with the bargaining process completed, I felt obligated to hop on. He handed me a helmet and I reminded him for the third time "pulan-pulan" (slowly). He understood. I never felt afraid because of his driving, however, I did feel a bit afraid the entire time. But I told myself that since I was now on the ojek, I might as well relax and enjoy it because everything else was really out of my control. While I was white-knuckling the handle behind my seat and "relaxing," I was contemplating my mortality and my plan that if I was ever about to fall off, I would grab onto the driver, because I did not intend to fall off by myself. He turned out to be an excellent ojek driver. He avoided all the grates and potholes even when it was an inconvenience, perhaps because of my initial insistence on pulan-pulan. It is quite nice to ride on an ojek. When you are moving it is very cool and it is faster than a taxi because you can weave in and out of traffic. I will do it again. I did have to wipe off some smut which accumulated on my face by the time I got home.
The best part of that adventure was the look on the guards' faces when I pulled up in front of the apartment compound. Their mouths sort of dropped. There was some sort of exchange between the guards and the ojek driver and he had a huge smile on his face when he told the guards "pulan-pulan." As I was walking through the gates, the guards asked me, "Ojek?" I told them it was fast. I felt very cool (literally and figuratively) riding on the back of an ojek. I also feel I have taken the first step toward owing a motorcycle...
When I got home, I went batik shopping with my new friend, Kristin. Several people told me that I should meet her and that I would really like her, but of course, when people say something like that I am very skeptical, by nature and by training. Turns out the people were right. I really like her. I bought a few pieces of batik and am hoping that Yana can work her magic on them.
It was a very lovely day.