Rookie in Training
Indonesia
As Donovan and I disembarked from the sardine can filled to the rim with Indonesians. It didn’t take us long to realize we were nowhere near our destination. We had just travelled for 10 hours in a bus that we were pushed, pulled and persuaded onto. Our voice being the least of their concerns – our money and the fact that we looked like we had just stepped off the plane gave the appearance we could be easily persuaded. Which was obviously the next case.
We had arrived in this wild and crazy country about a week before we decided to take the next step and go exploring. Our naivete definitely got the best of us. When we got to the bus station we were surrounded by beggars, hagglers, con-artists and a thousand different people frantically trying to get us on the proper bus to take us to their destination. It was Ramadan, and everyone was trying to get to their loved ones or to a temple to pray. Due to the holiday I couldn’t cash any of my travellers cheques, so I was on a tight budget.
The bus ride Donovan and I had taken definitely coincided with my daily budget. It didn’t even occur to us that we might not make it to where we wanted to be. But a part of me didn’t care, as I was in it for the adventure. Donovan, on the other hand, isn’t as adventurous as I. He was more prone to stress over the little things. Although, he was relaxed when it came to money – he would hand it out like water. Me on the other hand was the penny pincher – opposites, to say the least.
We stood on the side of the road pooling our money together, trying to figure out our next step, which no Lonely Planet could assist in. I decided we should walk and see where it took us.
Everywhere our curious eyes looked we saw the same thing cars: badji’s, bikes, people selling birds, postcards, flowers. As we stood on the corner trying to take it all in – and loving the fact that we didn’t have to walk to the store to obtain articles, as all the things we needed came to us (shop on wheels). If I wanted a watch, a pair of pants or even a bird, I could get it while standing in one place. Sure beats the mad rush of having to go to a department store.
As we continued on our way to find whatever it was we were looking for, we came across a side alley with only enough room to walk single file. Donovan, a little unsure of the idea, trailed behind while I walked with ease. We passed the most broken-down shacks, people all sleeping on the floor on single mats. Goats and chickens passed by us. Kids ran by us, shouting. People stopped to stare at us, not too sure about what they saw. Garbage was everywhere, as was the surreal feel of what we had just got ourselves into.
Just as we rounded a corner a teenage boy spotted us from afar. He ran out and took an immediate liking to Donovan, hugging him and touching every inch of his skin. He was stroking Donovan’s beard and pulling at the hair on his arms. Not understanding the culture I automatically assumed he was gay, as he had a very feminine demeanour about him. Not to mention I had just came from my Canadian “real world”, where all that touching was not accepted nor tolerated. Now I understand that all Indonesians, not to mention Asians, are very touchy-feely with the same sex. Men hold other men’s hands. They hug each other and kiss each other more than they do to the opposite sex. They are just very secure with their sexuality and don’t really have a comfort zone when it comes to talking to people. Donovan on the other hand, is all man and had a hard time dealing with this guy touching him all over. We immediately had a crowd huddled around us, and people offering us bananas, drinks and whatever else they could get their hands onto.
I decided it was time to get my camera out and catch some of these amazing moments on film. It was a good thing I had a few extra rolls to catch the same picture roll after roll. After 2 rolls of film it was time to meet the family of this very feminine but friendly boy.
The whole meeting so far had been a charade game. No one in the village could speak English, except a few words here and there. The only one that could semi- communicate was the boy. Upon meeting the mom and dad we were immediately showered with more food, drinks and a few more clicks from the camera. We were then shown the family album, and that took a while, seeing as they love their photos. About one hour after our meeting we were being escorted to the aunt’s house. Upon our arrival we had an entourage of 500 people, and about another 200 awaiting our arrival. People came running from every direction. They just seemed to appear from nowhere. Babies being carried by their mothers were taken aback by us; they didn’t know what to make of these two outsiders. To get close to them at first was a mission in itself.
Donovan and I were overwhelmed by the attention, but soon came to realize we were the first Westerners they had ever seen. I was worried we would be the last, after meeting the two craziest Canadians around! They would surely put a ban on us.
We stood in the middle of the village, surrounded by amazing and intriguing Indonesians. I decided it was only right to take some more pictures of my new friends. I think the most amazing part was that they didn’t speak a lick of English, the pure beauty of being surrounded by people where interaction didn’t revolve around words. That was an experience in itself.
Just as I was about to snap my next picture, a man carrying a bamboo stick with two pots on the end came running out. He had his monthly earnings on his shoulder. He was on a mission to be in my picture. He made the 50-metre dash just to get his smiling face amongst the rest.
As the end of the day was fast approaching the family invited us to stay the night. After all, what’s two more in a house of 50? They cram 5 kids on a small bamboo mat, a family which consists of a mom, dad, the youngest in one bed. The grandfather was on the couch while Donovan was on one bed, and I was on the couch. While more people occupied the floor.
We decided it was a good idea to, since we had no idea where we were. How could we beat this type of lodging? Just as we were about to relax and finally breathe, the teenage boy decided he wanted to take us to the mall. We agreed, but basically we had no choice.
I was so full from all the food that they were force-feeding us, I definitely needed the walk. The whole village decided to chaperone us to the street corner to catch the bus. They wanted to make sure no one haggled us or caused any problems. As all 3 of us hopped on to the small bus (that drives with the door open), we realized what an experience this was for two rookies to Asia.
We finally got to the mall, and I was immediately spotted. I guess a white girl with long blonde hair can’t be too inconspicuous. After spotting me they brought me to a photo booth, where I had to have my picture taken with 3 people. They then put it on the wall and sent me on my way. They wanted no money, just my smiling face. Small pleasures in life.
As I passed the VCD stands I decide to buy one to thank my host family. I decide to buy them “Britney Spears” and ” Mariah Carey,” two artists popular amongst kids. I wanted to introduce them to a bit of the outside world. But not enough to corrupt their innocent minds. Seeing as this day has been about new experiences, I felt this added to the whole experience. I was excited to get back to show them what I had purchased. I was still amazed that for such a poor family they would have a VCD player. That is the last thing I thought they would have the money to buy, but TV is their one source of escape. I was then snapped out of my thoughts by our friend introducing us to all his friends. After an hour of smiling and pretending to know what they were saying, it was time to go back. Britney Spears here we come! I never thought I could be so excited over her before. That was definitely a first for me.
We made it back to the house and I showed them my present. They were ecstatic, dancing around and showing us their happiness. I put the disc in and the house came alive. It was an instant transition. All the rest of the kids got up and started dancing, the adults let loose and joined the kids. Clapping, dancing and laughing out of control was all it took to know that I had made the right choice. Indonesia was where I wanted to be. Communication was at a bare minimum, but everyone was happy. They were happy being surrounded by their family and friends but most of all each other. The littlest things amuse them. They don’t need the most up to date clothes or Nintendo’s, as long as they have each other and food on the table. Isn’t happiness the key to success? In the Western world you would never see the kids of today singing Karaoke or playing badminton or throwing rocks into the ocean. They need more than that to keep them stimulated. The Western thinking is so much more complex than the Asian mentality. Which is better? I ask myself. I have come to the conclusion that neither is better, they are just different.
As we finished our two-hour dancing marathon, many tears were shed. I have never had such a warming feeling in all my life. That moment will never leave me. That was the best two dollars I had ever spent.
I looked around the room after everybody had turned in for the night. This room, which they call a house, was filled with peace. What a great life-altering experience.
I learned one very valuable lesson that day. In life you don’t have to speak or understand a language to be accepted or entertained. Sometimes it’s better to go along for the ride and accept everything that comes your way. No expectations and an open mind will give you the best experience, like the one I just spoke of.
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