Culture Shock from the Land of the Bad Donut

Shortly before we left Bozeman, my friend Cathy started emailing me in French so that I could get used to the feeling of not knowing what people were saying to me. In retrospect, I probably should have taken the exercise a little more seriously. The excitement of the journey faded pretty quickly upon our arrival in Salatiga and the transition to life here has been, well, bumpy. As the house we have rented will not be ready for another week, we are currently living in very cramped quarters, on a busy street, smack dab in the middle of town. It is the life in the developing world at its frenetic best -- busses, cars and motorbikes whizz by at all hours, honking up a storm and belching out huge amounts of toxic fumes, the call to prayer from the mosque across the street seems to be going 24/7, birds screech and gekkos chirp, lots of gastro-intestinal distress. My limited Bahasa skills make doing even the most basic things seem like a monumental task. And, as we have no kitchen facilities, we have eaten out pretty much every meal for two weeks and the kids, who clamor like mad to eat out in Bozeman, are done with the whole enterprise.

Seamus and Graham have been, for the most part, incredibly game throughout. Seamus, in particular, has really jumped in. He has no hesitation bargaining with the becap drivers, getting lost in the alleys, or eating goofy food. He’s often followed by a herd of little kids yelling HELLOOO MEEESTER! and he shakes everyone of their hands. Graham is a litte more hesitant but still a good sport. I think he is a bit sick of the old ladies wanting to touch him all the time. Boules (the Indonesian equivalent of the gringo) are few and far between here. But they are homesick, that is for certain. Both are jonesing for American food, open space, and other familiarities of home. We are living in a very different place here. A colleague of Kirk’s mentioned the problem with air quality to which my little Montanan asked, “What is smog?” Fortunately, when we are very much in need of a familiar voice, there is an English language channel on the television although admittedly, it broadcasts only Japanese programming, and the oddest of programs at that. Last night G. & I watched a half-hour special on the development of commercial food slicers. I am not making this up.

School has started with equally mixed results. Graham’s class has 12 girls and 3 boys, making him a very welcome addition to the group. He has a male teacher for the first time and seems to enjoy Mr. Bryan. He joined the climbing club and is looking forward to soccer starting, although it is less organized than he had hoped. Seamus is a little more reserved. His class of 18 is somewhat subdued, not the gregarious, outgoing Equinox bunch he is used to and, with kids from many different ethnic and religious backgrounds, he‘s still figuring out the social rules. It is really tough to see him so unhappy and I have had plenty of ‘why are we doing this to our kids? moments. Kirk is rock solid on this front and I too am confident that he will win over his peers but Seamus is less certain. Oh, by the way, today was their third day of school.

(update: School went better today. S. had an acting class in which they were introduced to the concept of Improv. Need I say more?)

Moving into the house I think will make an enormous difference. It is adjacent to the school grounds where there are soccer fields, playgrounds, and considerably less traffic. Lots of the kids from Graham’s school live nearby so there is the potential for playdates and bike riding, etc. Plus it is half a block up from the only coffee shop in town -- a Starbucks-y knockoff run by an American ex-pat and her Indonesian husband. The only problem is, it is only open from 1 - 5 on Fridays although no once here thinks this is odd. The house was scouted out by Kirk’s colleagues before we arrived and it is awesome (if anyone needs a set for the climactic shoot out scene of their own Hong Kong mafia movie, this is it! vintage John Woo). Once we’re in we can cook our own food, and set our own schedule. The guesthouse we are staying in provides breakfast every morning but it is pretty basic, and sometimes completely unrecognizable. For a couple of kids with upset tummies, its not always
exactly what they need. We are closing in on a full month as gypsies and, no offence to Michael, my mom, or Yuyen and his cohorts at the guest house, all of us are ready to call a place home.

While it is true, we are still getting used to things, I must say that every single person we have met thus far has been warm and generous and welcoming. The city, while poor, is tidy and people take enormous pride in the tiny bit of greenspace they have on patios and windowsills. The surrounding countryside, which we have seen very little of, is gorgeous and we can see the smoking volcanoes from town. We have found our neighborhood quite safe, its not too hot, the food is great, and there is a little toy stall/workshop around the corner where sits a cute old guy who makes the most beautiful hula hoops out of bamboo and sells them for 29000 R or about $3 each. The kids are coming around and I think they will continue to do so but it’s the little things that get to them. Graham had a really difficult morning so we walked by the Wonder Bakery Roti & More for a treat on our way to school, just to put him in a good mood. He picked out a sugar donut. It was filled with tuna. The adventure continues...