Jakarta: Wrapping It Up

We got an early start for our request to see the original harbor, home to the shipping area of the spice trade.  At first our request was met with hesitation; Yuna didn’t want to take us to ‘the dark side of Jakarta’, but we were eager to see come cultural history outside the schools and mosques.  Driving to Jakarta on a Sunday proved much faster than ever before, and we found ourselves in the port area after 45 minutes.  It took a while to navigate the maze-like streets near the port, but eventually we arrived at the Port Museum and Syanbandar Lookout Tower.

The tower, built in 1839, was used for weighing goods and measuring the distance to other places from Batavia City.  Surveys done in the late 1900s found it was built at a distinct angle, sort of like the Leaning Tower of Pisa.

The tower overlooks Priok Port and is ringed with cannons to help in watching for incoming enemy ships.  It was also used as a custom’s house, as the port was home to the spice, gold and slave trade starting in the 5^th century.

We found the adjacent museum fascinating.  Following the history of the port provided insight into the many cultures that had traveled through modern-day Jakarta, including traders from India, China, Portugal and the Malacca Strait.  Outrigger boats appeared there 4,500 year ago and then spread to Madagascar and the Pacific Islands.

The port survived Dutch battles and occupation as an international transit point for silk, tea, coffee, tobacco and spices.  It also brought missionaries to spread the Buddhist, Hindu and Islamic faiths to Indonesia.

The port was crowded but felt safe.  We were surprised to see other white tourists wandering around the stalls lining the harbor.  Driving onto the shipping area allowed us a real treat – we bravely walked a gangplank high above the water to board a working ship.  The crew allowed us to go all over the ship, which was hauling cement to Kalimantan.  We felt like we had stepped back in history as we climbed around and eventually came across the Sulawesi captain, dressed only in a sarong, who wasn’t overly excited to see us on his ship.  We were particularly pleased that our host summoned us the courage to board the ship as well – she was terribly frightened because she cannot swim.

Our host drove us back to our Jakarta hotel to meet up with the rest of the TGC cohort.  We were sad to say goodbye, but eager to meet up with our colleagues and swap adventure stories.

Today’s trip to the ‘dark side of Jakarta’ illuminated my suspicion that there were areas and parts of the Indonesian culture our hosts really didn’t want us to see.  To me, seeing how the ‘common’ people live and work is crucial to understanding where Indonesia is as a developing country, and clarifies areas that need improvement.  Again, this push and pull between traditional and modern aspects highlighted the struggle Indonesians face as the move into the 21^st century.

Cendekia Serpong School: A Lesson in Gift Giving

Each time I walk into the lobby I pause and take a touch of aromatic oil for my hands. It’s a little lift to my senses, a special gift I give myself. It helps me get ready for this amazing experience.

Prepared with ‘Gift of the Magi’ lesson plans, we arrived late for our 7 am class because our driver overslept…thinking our teacher would have started without us, we were surprised to be ‘on’ the moment we walked into the classroom.  The 12^th grade students were very polite and shy, and as Amy and I began our lesson, we were pleased that our teaching styles meshed so nicely and things moved along seamlessly.  The teachers are fascinated with our collaboration, and share their desire to learn how to work with each other as well as their frustration with unsuccessful attempts.

Indonesian kids are similar to Americans in many ways, except these kids spend many more hours at school – class begins at seven, and ends after three.  During Ramadan students wake at three, pray, eat and arrive at school by 6:30 am.  We ignored the yawns and listlessness of some students, and empathized with what they dealt with on a daily basis.  We learned that 3,000 students apply for admission, and only 120 are accepted.  It is a great honor to attend this school, and many students use government scholarship for tuition.  Teachers refer to the program as ‘career studying’.  Students who don’t pass are expelled – there are no second chances.

After two classes, each videotaped by the teacher, we switched to 11^th grade English and our presentation on the US and our state, schools and families.  The students asked more interesting questions about American culture, boy/girl relationships, the CIA/FBI, what ‘Sin City’ was, and the American Dream. Several classes have told us they know America is a ‘superpower’, and that they can earn scholarships to study in our colleges.  They have such hope for their futures.

Later that evening we were invited back to school to literally ‘break-fast’ with some teachers and the dorm counselors.  As we arrived, we were excited to see the male students out of uniform and participating in an ‘Iron Chef-style’ cooking competition using bananas, chocolate and cheese.  Girls could only gather around and express their frustration with their techniques.

Just like American students, Indonesian kids don’t love their cafeteria food.  Big blue coolers filled with endless amounts of rice supplements the canteen offerings.  A quick tour of their dormitories revealed the stark reality that they live far from home.

We ended our visit with a traditional ‘break-fast’ meal.  Interestingly, we start with sweets (dates, coconut drink, steamed buns with rice paste), and end with savory (chicken, rice, and fresh vegetables).  Sitting on the floor, eating new foods and watching our hosts so adept without utensils, we reveled in the gifts they were sharing with us.

Each day in Indonesia concludes with a mixture of exhaustion and admiration; navigating this extraordinary culture takes a great deal of energy, a humbleness and willingness to learn from our mistakes, and an openness to receiving the gifts of knowledge and awareness.  We process our similarities and differences, laugh at ourselves, and ask a multitude of questions in our quest to bring our disparate worlds together.  I am so grateful for the honesty and candor of the people here; they are giving me a priceless gift that I hope will help me enrich my global classroom in America.

Tangerang: Obama, Shopping Malls, and Breaking Laws in Supermarkets

After two days of briefings on education and culture of Indonesia, we were ready to leave Jakarta and head to our respective host schools.  The 11 TGC fellows are split among six different locations all over Indonesia, none of us really knowing exactly what we would encounter once we left the comfort of our large group and the Jakarta hotel.

As the host teachers began arriving to pick us up, it felt a bit like the end of camp as we packed our bags and headed in different directions, each promising to keep in touch.  There was some comfort in being together, and I found myself nervous about heading off with unknown people in a car in the middle of Indonesia!  Fortunately, my teaching partner Amy and I share a love of adventure and daring, and we took a deep breath, said goodbye, and headed for our first stop, Barack Obama’s elementary school.

The statue that welcomes visitors was once in a nearby park, but the Indonesians, fiercely loyal to their culture, felt it didn’t represent their entire country and moved it to his elementary school.

 Because it was Sunday, we had arranged special entrance to the school grounds.  What delighted us as we walked the campus’ brightly colored, Dutch inspired buildings were the many inspirational signs hanging from each hallway.  Two of my personal favorites were hanging above the English rooms.  It continues to impress me just how eager Indonesians are to learn English, and although many signs, menus, and directions use our language, if we look just beneath the surface there isn’t a collective use of or understanding of English among the general population.

After a 45-minute car trip at impressive speeds, the host teacher graciously unloaded at Hotel Sandika and escorted us directly into the adjacent shopping mall.  I’m sure we garnered many stares as we giggled with excitement and wonder at the bounty before us!

We spent nearly an hour enraptured by the bookstore – sort of a cross between Borders, Office Max and Target; we happily searched for useful items for our upcoming teaching assignment, as well as a few children’s bilingual Indonesian/English books. I love the interesting translations of titles and the different types of fashion magazines!

 I always find it fascinating to visit grocery stores when I travel – even when I cannot read the product names, I’m so curious about what people buy on a daily basis.  Is this what I would eat for breakfast if I lived here? 

I've never seen such a variety of mangoes!

 We immediately began snapping photos of the unusual fruits, vegetables and….eels?  Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a bucket of squirming creatures; a squeal erupted, and was immediately confronted by the uniformed security guard and told to stop taking photos.  Who knew I would break the law in a grocery store?

We left a bit disappointed that beer is unavailable in the grocery store here, but satisfied with our snacks and exhausted from the over stimuli.  Although Tangerang appears to be more Chinese Buddhist than Muslim, the fact that it is Ramadan hasn’t escaped us – the broadcast prayers in the background above the continually piped in Kenny G tunes are a constant reminder.

Today I had to muster up a different kind of courage – it wasn’t the in-the-pen-with-a-Komodo-dragon type, but that inner courage that comes from having to do that which is outside my comfort zone.  As we whizzed down the Jakarta freeway with complete strangers, I had to pause and remind myself of where I was in the universe, and that we would be ok.  It wasn’t a trembling kind of fear of imminent danger, but that spinning kind of unstable, feet lifting off the ground, I’m-not-in-Kansas-anymore feeling I only get when I'm far, far away from what I know best. 

At times, I felt much more at ease here than I should; surrounded by Wendy’s, Starbucks, Baskin Robbins and Celebrity Fitness makes me feel like I’m back in California.  But when my innocence gets me reprimanded, and I cannot speak the language, I’m reminded that my culture needs to take the backseat for a while.

Thank goodness for my teaching buddy.  I'm so glad I'm not alone.  Now, where did I leave those ruby slippers?