Home Cooking and Hospitals- Week 4 in Jogja

This week has been interesting to say the least. The first two days of the week were pretty straight forward. Monday we decided to go get a snack of Gorengan (fried tofu, tempe etc) before dinner and ended up driving all over town trying to find a stall that was open eventually finding one just down the road from our house. After that we went to the angkringan for dinner (you pick different meat, rice, tempe etc and they heat it for you) and ate chicken heads then provided entertainment to the other patrons by re-enacting a chicken noodles commercial off the TV with said heads. Good filling meal for only 6000 Rp (9600 Rp = $1 AUD)

Tuesday after work Nick and I decided some vegetables were in order so we drove down to Milas (I’ve written about here before- delicious vegetarian restaurant) It was closed. So we head to another tourist favourite Via Via where I ended up eating a lamb pita pocket with salad (so so so delicious) before we sampled some of the dessert menu.

So a normal start to the week. We had made plans to cook for the dinner on Thursday night and had made a shopping list when at about 5:30pm on Wednesday we thought hey maybe we could just cook tonight. A mad rush around town to buy ingredients followed and we headed to a specialist butcher/western food store which was AMAZING! Can we make meatballs out of hamburger patties? Turned out we could and I also found Tim Tams (the Australian ones not the Indonesian version) and BBQ Shapes. Then we set to cooking. The menu for the night was spaghetti and meatballs followed by apple pie. Despite the lack of recipe/measuring utensils both turned out really well and we gave the pie an Indonesian flavour by decorating the top with a Garuda (the Indonesian coat of arms) Unfortunately we misjudged the timing of the cooking and ended up eating the pie after 11pm. It was delicious the next day as well!

Thursday was another interesting day. I had woken up a few days before with half of my hand numb and pain in my elbow. Assuming it was a pinched nerve I thought it will go away. It didn’t. So I spoke to the doctor at our office who recommended I see the nerve specialist at the local hospital. So off to the Neurology department we went to see a lovely doctor who spoke wonderful English who checked out my arm and told me he wanted to run some tests so come back the next day. We also had a hilarious time with one of the admin officers who constantly joked around with us. He knew I could speak Indonesian so teased me (playfully) in Javanese so I replied in English using obscure Australian slang. Very funny and we had a cool handshake at the end. This morning I went in for the EMG (electromyography). After reading horror stories about how this test involved electric shocks through needles into the muscles I was pleasantly surprised to see it just was a few light (kind of ticklish) electric shocks through sensors on your skin. All the tests came back normal so probably just a pinched/inflamed nerve now it’s a case of waiting and hoping it goes away with the medicine he gave me.

As this is not my first time visiting an Indonesian hospital (I’m building a collection of membership cards) I was once again really impressed by the service on facilities. Sure it’s not as fancy or streamlined as a top hospital back home but you get to see a doctor quickly, most (in my experience) are very well trained and it’s super cheap- two visits to the doctor, drugs and tests only $50 give or take. Plus I got to keep the cool squiggly lines which are my nerve reactions.

So that’s my week! Tonight I should be meeting up with one of the girls from my tour in Cambodia and off to see Borobudur and Prambanan. Preparing for the swarms of people wanting photos!

Courts xx

A Spirit Raging

This article (by yours truly) was first published in Monsoon- The publication of the ANU Asia-Pacific Studies Society in the Autumn edition 2011. As part of the Island Southeast Asia special feature some of these stories may be a bit familiar.

Incredible India. Malaysia- Truly Asia. It’s slogans like this which invoke emotions and passion in a traveller when making their way through the mazes which are the major airline hubs of Asia. Compare this to the tourism campaign of our closest Southeast Asian neighbour and a country I truly love- Wonderful Indonesia. Sure it is pleasant but it’s not the kind of awe-inspiring, drop everything and buy a plane ticket slogan that I’m sure the Indonesian Ministry of Tourism was aiming for.

Unfortunately Indonesia is a country that for many Australians presents all sorts of negative connotations thanks to DFAT and Today Tonight, and the word wonderful is quickly replaced by words such as terrorist or fundamentalism. While there is no doubt Indonesia faces its problems, such comments are unfounded and in no way reflect the significant progress made by Indonesia in the past decade.

Now let me introduce you to the Indonesia I love, an Indonesia far removed from the drunken, hedonistic paradise of Bali. Indonesia is a country which screams diversity, with hundreds of ethnic groups coexisting in a single country. This still creates social and cultural problems however the positives derived from this diversity speak far more loudly than the negatives. It is this diversity that I experienced while studying at an Indonesian university in a small town in Central Java. Within 100 kilometres of this town there were ancient Hindu and Buddhist temples (Borobudur and Prambanan), modern cities and tiny villages which still followed traditional farming practices. All of these places hold memories that will stay with me forever from sitting in an unusually empty Prambanan and contemplating life at sunset, trekking through tiny villages and seeing farmers who had most likely been working the same plot for half a century with betel stained teeth and shy smiles to having a tropical infection pulled out of my arm with very little anaesthetic in a surprisingly modern hospital in Semarang. (Capital of Central Java Province)

Indonesia is a nation which is strongly patriotic as is evident through its history and fierce battle for independence. My first visit to the country was just after the passing of former President Abdurrahman Wahid (or Gus Dur to the population) and witnessed a country awash with respect for a man who was largely ineffective as a President yet highly revered as a figure of post-New Order reformasi (reformation). The sight of a nation adorned with the merah putih (national flag) was repeated on my most recent visit following the tragic loss of the Indonesian National Soccer Team to their arch-rivals Malaysia in the final of the 2010 ASEAN Football Championships. This patriotism reaches from the state ideology of Pancasila taught from an early age at school to the national emblem, the Garuda seen everywhere from government buildings to the bumper stickers of the scooters which clog Indonesia’s roads.

This is a country of resilience, where hardship is a part of daily life for millions across the archipelago. Following the devastating eruption of Mount Merapi in October-November last year there is still an immense hope for the future. I was slightly worried however by an Indonesian friend who told me, “If the house starts shaking in the middle of the night don’t worry it’s just a cold lava avalanche from the eruption going past.” Driving through the areas which were hardest hit by the eruption leaving many dead, some of the only reminders are the blackened scars on houses and the newly erected signs which warn of the danger from hot gas eruptions. Another case of this was buying petrol from a roadside stall for my scooter in an isolated village and being served by a man with most of his skin covered by horrific burns yet battling on to keep earning a living, a fitting symbol of an Indonesia which doesn’t give up.

Indonesia is a country which cannot be encompassed in a single word. From the repetitive, hypnotic pattern of the gamelan, the enchanting, mysterious Javanese dance or the aroma of a rich Beef Rendang to the wild traffic, rich youth culture and the blaring dangdut, a truly unique music style which one must learn to love. This is Indonesia- colourful, beautiful, diverse and rich in culture, history and suffering and a nation which should be allowed to liberate itself from the negativity heaped on it by Western governments and media.

Note- I never explained the title in the original article. It’s a quote from Sukarno in 1945 “Independence can only be obtained and secured by a nation that has its spirit raging with determination: "independence or death" I think it’s a powerful quote

“Masih Sakit?” The Indonesian Hospital Experience

I had always said that there was one place I didn’t want to end up- in an Indonesian hospital. Contingency plans meant going to Singapore or Jakarta if any emergencies happened however on my last trip I got to experience the Indonesian hospital system first hand and it turns out I was pleasantly surprised.

There are a few photos of me on my last trip with a white band around my arm. No this wasn’t a fashion statement but in fact the remnants of my trip to the wonderful Rumah Sakit Elisabeth in Semarang.

The story- It was my host dad’s birthday so the Jeep Club came around for a surprise party and what a party it was! There were tequila shots and local wine and bintang flowing, the dangdut music was blaring and there was more than enough food to be had. With uni the next morning I called it a night after a few (too many) drinks and woke up the following day with a headache and fever. I couldn’t believe I was so hungover but then tried to get up to have a shower and go to class and realised I was dizzy and my arm was in severe pain whenever I moved it the slightest. Then I saw it.. What had been a seemingly harmless looking bite a few days earlier now resembled a volcano ready to erupt and my arm was swollen and red. Oh **** I thought and hobbled off to uni where my first reaction was to show it to one of my friends and say “do you reckon there’s something wrong here?” She freaked out and demanded I show our director who swiftly decided the best thing for me to do was to head down in a car to the emergency room of a private hospital in the capital of the province.

So here I was stuck in a car for an hour and a half slowly feeling sicker and dizzier, every bump shooting pain up my arm and dreading what lay ahead of me. With family working for the health department in Australia I could only imagine what awful things lay ahead of me. Finally we arrived at the hospital and walked into the ER where filling out the forms presented the first problem of the day. What do you mean I HAVE to nominate a religion? While I have no problem with those who choose to follow a religion it’s not for me but I was told to just put Christian down because I’m white and it’s expected. Then we took a seat only to be called up 5 minutes later (as opposed to the typical 3+ hour wait in an Australian hospital)

Walking into the treatment area I was shocked. This looked quite nice, sure not as modern as some of our hospitals but it was sterile and all the nurses had cool old fashioned style uniforms so I jumped up on the bed and started to realise how bad my Indonesian was. They started questioning my medical history which I couldn’t understand but luckily I had a friend to translate… Who left the room swiftly as soon as blood or needles were mentioned. So it was me and a doctor and a nurse, which soon became four doctors and about ten nurses all to see the bule (foreigner) and this strange thing on her arm which no one could determine what it was.

This is where you should probably stop reading if you are squeamish

The doctor spoke quickly to the nurse who brought in a trolley with all sorts of surgical implements on it. Oh **** I thought again as they pulled out a needle which I had no idea what was in it but none the less they stuck it into my arm and then started tapping the wound saying “Masih sakit?” (still hurting?) Aaah anaesthetic! But it was still hurting… a lot. Aaaah MASIH SAKIT! They waited… tap tap tap masih sakit? YA YA masih sakit! They looked at each other shrugged and then started cutting my arm open anyway. There was a lot of blood and I tried to ignore the next 15 minutes but to cut a long story short it turned out the infection was growing threads down to my veins which they had to remove (and which apparently could have caused a blood infection which may have resulted in a trip to Singapore or death) and then bandaged me up and gave me a bag full of various ridiculously strong painkillers and antibiotics to take to kill the rest of the bug.

The bag of drugs resulted in me being rather chilled out for the next week (read: off my head) and now I have a tiny scar to remember the experience. All up it cost me about $50 including a car to take me there, minor surgery as they put it and medication so not even worth a travel insurance claim. I’m sure there are massive differences between the public and private systems and had I gone to the local public hospital it may have been a different story but generally speaking I had a pretty positive experience. I actually ended up in hospital in Australia this year (for more major surgery) and despite our hospitals being more modern there really isn’t that much of a difference. I’ve always been one for cultural experiences and this is just another one to add to the list. So now I will always be able to look down at my arm and remember when I was “masih sakit” and how my worst nightmare was not that scary after all.

The Road Not Taken

I had an English teacher in my final year of high school who introduced me to The Road Not Taken by Robert Frost and it appealed to me. I figured that this could possibly be the best way to live my life, taking this road not taken however I had no idea how to find it.

This is an old post from another one of my blogs from the first time I visited Indonesia. Don't use the other blog anymore but I really like this post so thought I'd post it here.

Going to Indonesia to study was a first step towards this road. I was nervous because I had no idea if I would actually like the country having spent thousands of dollars and dedicating a three year university degree to a place I knew very little about. I didn't know that I would have experiences in this country which I will treasure forever.

This blog is dedicated to one night in January 2010 where a group of ANU students tried to conquer Merbabu a 3200m volcano in Central Java.

View to Merbabu from my house in Salatiga

We set off in a rather gung ho fashion with packs and decked out in the finest camouflage gear provided to us by my host dad. We were prepared.. Well at least we thought we were..

At 9pm we began our drive to Tekelan, the village where the track up Merbabu begins, with our angkot (local bus) driving through the dark and the scent of kretek wafting through the bus, we discussed the night ahead and a number of popular TV shows. We then realised that we were completely lost. The boys decided it was easiest for us to just start from Kopeng which is a couple of kilometres from the start of the track and uphill all the way. So there we were a bunch of bules trekking through farmland (and at one stage past a cemetery) at 11pm at night, past villages which seemed deserted and onto the mountain.

I thought it would be an easy hike but it turns out that Merbabu is much steeper and rugged than I expected. For two hours we climbed past Hut 1 (There are 5 on the way to the summit) followed by Hut 2 where we found a small clearing to have a snack before pushing on to Hut 3. We realised at this stage that it was much colder than we were expecting it to be and that we might as well keep moving. The path from here got worse up to the stage when we were dragging ourselves through vines, being cut to threads by thorns and negotiating muddy slopes however we kept believing that Hut 3 was just around the corner but time after time it wasn't.

After hours of climbing, the scenery that we could see from the beams of light from our head torches changed. Suddenly there was nowhere further to climb and we were obviously above the tree line. We realised that we had most likely reached the summit and it was time to wait for the sun to come up. However by this stage we were all soaked and freezing as the wind had picked up, it was the closest I have ever felt to getting hypothermia in my entire life so we found a trench to try and get out of the wind at least and warm up a bit.

Waiting for sunrise at the summit

Following a couple of hours huddled on the side of the mountain (where I even managed to get about an hour of sleep) we woke up to cloud covered mountain with visibility levels low. It was time to conquer the summit, one group started up the last few hundred metres of the track while the rest of us packed up the gear. As we moved up the track suddenly my friend said what was possibly the most soul crushing thing I have ever heard.. We climbed the wrong peak.. Sure enough as the cloud cleared a little, we saw the old phone tower and the maintenance building on top of the mountain on the opposite peak (still at a respectable 3000m) and then to add to the situation it started to sleet.

There was nothing we could do but climb through the barbed wire fence into the building to try and take some shelter from the weather and decide what we were to do next. Eventually we decided to make our way back down and head home. So we started off down the mountain slightly annoyed and slipping on patches of mud everywhere.

Not exactly 5 star luxury for shelter

We reached a small clearing still above the tree line and stopped for a break and then it happened, the cloud cleared and I saw what is the most spectacular thing I have ever seen. In every direction the majestic peaks of Java started to poke their heads above the clouds revealing the famed islands in the sky. Next we saw down into the valley, to the villages, the rice paddies and to Salatiga the town where we were studying. It was this moment I realised that the horrible climb up was completely worth it for this one moment, the one moment that made me love Indonesia and told me that studying Indonesian was the right choice. It lifted our spirits and the hike down was much easier (We realised that the "path" from the night before wasn't actually a track and we had just been climbing through forest for 6 hours).

The cloud clearing

The view from the top- Spectacular

We got to Tekelan having passed a number of villagers, farmers with their teeth stained from chewing Betel Leaf who we greeted with a Selamat Pagi (good morning) and who responded with the same or a shy smile. In the village we collapsed on the side of the road to try and figure out how we were going to get back to Kopeng where we could get a bus to Salatiga. Suddenly some of our group spotted a ute loaded with cauliflower for the market and rushed over to arrange a lift into town. So off we went in an old truck full of produce and onto a crowded bus full of locals until eventually we made it home to Salatiga at 12pm to collapse into our beds.

Checking out the local agriculture

For many days after it was easy to remember the negatives; the cold, the wind, the physical exhaustion but in retrospect it was the experience of a lifetime.

In terms of studying Indonesian In-Country I would recommend it because the experience you gain you will not find anywhere else. Unfortunately bad press and government travel warnings do turn a lot of people off studying over there which is a real shame.

So to conclude it turns out on the mountain I finally did take the road not taken, likewise in my decision to study in Indonesia, it turns out you don't find it, it finds you.

And that has made all the difference

The Mountain of Fire and Powerful Dynasties

With four weeks of university over it was time to head down to Yogyakarta to catch up with a friend and have a little bit of time away from Salatiga.

The journey to Yogyakarta was interesting to say the least. Besides the fact I was travelling “sendiri” (alone) a concept which is considered unusual in Indonesia, after an extremely late night and forgetting to set an alarm I finally arrived at the bus stop at 12pm. In my tired state I forgot to read the front of the bus and didn’t notice until I was on the bus that it said BIASA. For those not accustomed to the Solo-Semarang bus line, there are two kinds of buses Parawisata (tourist) or Biasa (normal). Parawisata are quite nice with air conditioning and comfortable seats, Biasa is a case of let’s fit as many people in as possible on a hot, smelly bus and have people get on and try and sell things every five minutes. This was followed by the typical argument with a becak driver and attempting to argue that I knew how much the becak should cost so stop trying to overcharge me. This argument failed as usual and caused me to miss the train leaving me to wait for an hour in the humidity at Solo station which was neither an enjoyable or enriching experience so needless to say I was happy to arrive in Yogya.

My friend Amalia met me at the station and we drove to her house on her scooter (stopping on the way for some ayam bakar) It was a long drive until we reached her house in the rice fields and for the first time in four weeks it was actually quiet at night without the sound of roaring motorbikes or Pedagang Kaki Lima (street vendors). The next morning I was greeted by an unobstructed view of Gunung Merapi, the volcano which shot to infamy two months ago following the devastating eruptions which claimed over three hundred lives. The shape of the peak has changed since I last saw it and the mountain has been scarred by the avalanches of hot ash and debris.

We decided to do something a bit different and ventured up Merapi on the motorbike to a museum celebrating Javanese culture and the sultanates of Yogyakarta and Solo. The warning signs that we were entering the danger zone where pyroclastic (hot gas) flows can occur and clearly marked evacuation routes served as a reminder of the recent tragedy as merely kilometres away from Merapi we rode through villages where people had lost their lives. On the way there we also saw a lahar (cold debris avalanche) caused by heavy rains sending debris from the eruption down the river only a few kilometres from Amalia’s house.

The museum was interesting with paintings and artefacts of the lives of the royal family including to my amusement a painting of the royals with some other familiar royalty, Prince Charles (donning a safari suit) and the lovely Princess Diana. We also enjoyed some secret recipe jamu (traditional medicine) which was supposed to help us retain our young looks. Afterwards we set off down the mountain as the clouds rolled in, hiding Merapi from sight.

Next stop was Tamansari, the playground of the King where he would sit in his tower and watch the women bathe in a pool. Should he like one of these women, he would request that they join him in his private pool. The grounds were amazing with intricate stone work dating hundreds of years. Following this we went for a walk in a kampung and saw batik and wayang kulit artists. The graffiti throughout the kampung was, like it is in most of Indonesia, amazing with batik designs and characters from Javanese epics covering the walls. Then we went to a mosque Amalia wanted to show me due to it’s unique nature. Upon arrival the mosque was actually an old fort with a great deal of it underground formed around a central pond.

After a stroll through the mall to cool off it was time to bid my farewells as I made my way to the train station. Much to my dismay I had missed my train by two minutes leaving me with a ninety minute wait for the next train resulting in another four hours of travelling to go just 100 km.

People say Solo is the Spirit of Java however I would be inclined to disagree. Yogya has perfected an intricate fusion of modern and traditional culture offering something for everyone. From street art to ancient techniques such as batik and the palaces of dynasties spanning centuries, Yogya is a city which never fails to impress and is somewhere I will never hesitate to return to.

Get some culture into you

Malam Budaya or Culture Night is the traditional end to the four week PIBBI program. It is something to be feared as a girl or anticipated if participating in just the for week program. It’s also the time where it is best to keep your mouth shut and not tell the Course Director that you know a traditional Javanese welcoming dance.

The night started early for a number of the other girls and I with hair and make up appointments to attend followed by being dressed in some incredibly uncomfortable traditional Indonesian clothes. We had people dressed in outfits from Papua to Aceh and everywhere in between which was a nice change from the usual heavy turnout of Javanese outfits. For me it meant going through the process of being dressed for gambyong which features several metres of fabric, a corset, a hair piece adorned with gold accessories, sampur (scarves), a lot more bling and then topped off with a two metre chain of jasmine flowers which left me smelling lovely but unable to sit down. Faced with the idea of not being able to walk properly or sit down let alone go to the toilet or breathe, it was time for culture night.

It’s always fun to see your newfound friends descend on the LTC (Language Training Centre) and laughing at how ridiculous you all look. The host families find it entertaining and everyone gets a chance to mingle before the ceremony begins. This was the part I feared the most as I would be the first performance of the night’s proceedings and as the gamelan started playing and I waited for the D’lang of the drum, the sign to make my entrance, Malam Budaya began.

Gambyong, a traditional Javanese court dance is a dance I have a great deal of respect for but not one I particularly enjoy performing. It requires complete control over your movements in order to dance slowly and gracefully. Also if you get Gambyong wrong it looks awful. I have never been an expert at controlling my movements with any degree of grace so the pressure was well and truly on. I was extremely focused during the dance so can’t really comment on it however many of the Indonesian audience members loved it so it must have been ok.

After my dance we presented our cultural class activities including pencak silat, batik (which I had to present), cooking and gamelan. This meant everybody had to play some role in the night before we got our certificates and transcripts. Group photos were followed by dinner and a chance to try a different aspect of Indonesian culture- karaoke where I attempted to entertain  the crowd with a Rod Stewart classic. There was more photos and a chance to have a chat to different people and then we were entertained by a Papuan dance which bore strong resemblance to a traditional aboriginal dance. We were then invited to join in this dance with mixed results. As the night drew to a close and it was becoming later it was time to get out of our uncomfortable traditional clothes and head off to the local bar for a few drinks and a debrief of the night.

Malam Budaya was a really fun night despite its meaning being slightly affected by the fact we still have another three weeks of the program left to go. We did have a fair few people leave after four weeks who will all be missed and Malam Budaya marked the end of what has been an enjoyable four weeks.

We come from a land down under

Once again I found myself in Salatiga when Australia Day came around. General consensus was to turn last year’s party into a tradition and once again celebrate our National Day in style. This in itself raised a number of questions as to why we, as Australians seem to place so much more emphasis on the 26th of January when we find ourselves in packs in places far from home.

There is no doubt the events behind Australia Day are something that not all Australians would like to celebrate or remember at that, because of this meaning it was agreed that Australia Day is little more than a chance for a day off and a bbq. For us in Salatiga, Australia Day presents an opportunity to play host to our Indonesian friends, families and teachers as a show of gratitude for the hospitality they have shown us. 

Little needs to be said about the party itself as it was typically what you expect from a party hosted by university students with too much beer and an assortment of unhealthy snacks. Music left a bit to be desired with our carefully planned, Australian themed iPod playlists thwarted by the lack of iPod connectivity for the sound system. Instead we were educated in some classic Prog Rock thanks to one of the host families. Another interesting event was where a number of us experienced a rice paddy up close and personal when the railing of the balcony we were standing on gave way, sending us flying into the muddy field.

Thanks have to go out to everyone who helped organise the party and everyone who attended. While it may be a tradition which is hated by some for it’s dubious origins or viewed as bogan, all meanings of the day aside. When you have thirty odd Australians and a number of people from other nations coming together in a small town in Central Java, you can’t help but be a little bit proud to be and Australian.

Organic Central Java

As a disclaimer I am not a food critic nor do I normally use my blog as a vehicle for promotion however it is very rare that I find a place that is deserving of such praise.

When my friend suggested we travel 100km each way from Salatiga to Yogyakarta for dinner at a restaurant she likes I was keen for a bit of an adventure however when she mentioned it was a vegetarian restaurant I was somewhat wary being a lover of all things which are considered meat products. However after a day of batik shopping in Solo and sampling Kopi Luwak the most expensive coffee in the world taken from the faeces of a Civet, I made the journey to Yogya and to the restaurant.

Milas or Mimpi Lama Sekali is not just a restaurant. It encompasses a community project, youth training centre and organic garden. In a country where food tends to be high in flavour and low in nutritional value offering fresh, organic produce is a feat in itself.

Arriving we took up position in a small bamboo hut surro unded by lush, tropical gardens and we decided to sample the menu of fresh juices while awaiting our other friend’s arrival from Jakarta. It made me wonder why in such an agriculturally focused nation, there is not more of a focus on fresh, unflavoured vegetables. For example when I ordered a mango juice, something I have been drinking a few times a week at cafes in Salatiga, I was informed that mangos aren’t currently in season and left me curious as to where all this mango juice was coming from.

The time came to order food and we started with what would be one of the best bruchettas I have ever eaten. It may have been the fact that I have only had sugar rich bread or have been craving cheese for three weeks but the idea of a baguette, fresh tomato and organic basil and cheese was a godsend. For the main I decided to try the guacamole taco and while it more resembled a curry puff than your stereotypical Mexican snack, it featured fresh tomato and avocado. The fact that it had avocado in it’s natural form as opposed to in juice mixed with chocolate restored my faith in Indonesian cuisine a little bit. Other items included pasta with pesto and brown rice forming just a glimpse of the extensive menu which is offered at Milas. All items are free of preservatives as the focus truly is on organic produce.

After eating we browsed the giftshop which offered a selection of handicrafts and organic products made by students at the youth program. We ended up spending more money here than on food investing in items such as fisherman’s pants and organic soaps. Very content with the experience that was Milas we all had a nap in the long taxi ride back to Salatiga.

Milas represents a concept which would be of great benefit to not just Indonesia but many Western nations. With obesity and poor nutrition plaguing a great deal of the world, the idea of providing good, healthy food at a reasonable price while at the same time putting back into the community is genius. I believe that Milas is taking a bold step to break into an untapped market in the Indonesian culinary world and hope they are able to turn this into a truly successful venture.

What do you think they mean by jeep race?

Was the question on our lips when our host dad asked us if we wanted to come to a race with him a few weekends ago. Unfortunately my other friend from the home stay couldn’t make it as she had other plans so I decided to give it a shot and see what a jeep race actually entailed.

We left Salatiga at 3pm to drop my friend in Semarang where conveniently the race also started. After some ayam goreng (fried chicken) and a long drive we arrived at a field with maybe 150 other jeeps. Upon finding the Salatiga Jeep Club among the crowd and meeting everyone we went over to the registration where I was to find out I was actually the navigator for this Off Road Touring race. The 14th Annual Diponegoro Jeep Club Event was serious business so I was hoping that there wasn’t actually any form of map reading or navigating actually expected of me… There was. After an hour at the field it was time to jump in the jeep (It’s now 8pm). Oh maybe a little race at night for a bit of fun. I was wrong. On being handed the map I saw that it was at least 80km and little did I know a majority of that would actually be off road. Having to navigate through the city was easy enough as I just had to read directions off the map however as soon as we entered the rubber plantation the fun began.

Because of the sheer amount of jeeps and the poor condition of the track the off road part took a very long time. We got bogged a number of times, being winched was very frequent and if I recall correctly we hit 4 trees. At midnight we were still deep in the forest with a long way to go. The track was actually pretty extreme compared to some of the off road tracks I have been on in Australia with us coming very close to ending up on our side a number of times. I knew we were in for a big obstacle when I was told to hold on (there aren’t any seatbelts in jeeps here) and very frequently this would mean a big drop into a creek bed. After a while we were able to hit the gas and tear along some dirt tracks (2am now) and occasionally would stop and wait for the other Salatiga jeeps to catch up. When we finally got back onto the sealed road (3am) I crawled into the back of the jeep and went to sleep. I woke up as we got back into the field and could in the distance hear the sound of the mosque having morning prayers (at 4am).

It was surprisingly comfortable sleeping in the jeep that night despite only getting three hours sleep and waking up at 7am just in time to head off to my host dad’s friends house for a mandi and some breakfast at a Makanan Padang restaurant. After this we headed back to the field for the Off Road event where jeeps tried to see how quickly they could get through a course. Luckily we didn’t compete in this one and watched a number of jeeps smash into trees and end up on their roof.

We headed home mid afternoon and stopped for some durian and young coconut juice on the side of the road on the way. It really was nothing like what I expected and was an experience unlike any other that I have had in Indonesia. To see that this kind of activity actually occurs in Indonesia was interesting and it was made so much more fun knowing the dangers of liability did not affect the race. Needless to say on arrival in Salatiga there wasn’t much else to do than lie on the couch, watch some TV and sleep after what was a very big 24 hours.

Back to School and Overcoming Western Stereotypes

As part of the program here I was required to complete a field study about an aspect of Indonesian life. I decided that I would study Sekolah Dasar that is the Indonesian equivalent of our primary education. For the study my friend Ikka took me to her old primary school here in Salatiga for a morning. After recovering from my excitement at seeing that the school had a pet monkey, Ikka took me to see the principal and I received many curious glances as I walked past classrooms. The principal was happy for me to have a look around and asked that I go have a talk to each of the classes.

The kids were unbelievably cute and wanted to know all kinds of things about Australia such as what fruit was currently in season and if it is hot there (I was a bit thrown by the fruit question so had to guess) I did PE with some of the younger kids and got a good work out as each of the kids wanted to be my partner. There was a chance to help them out with their English with pronunciation of words like mouse, house, mosque and church. Finally we were left to our own devices in a Grade 5 classroom spent some time talking about Australia and being absolutely shocked when one of the boys could name the capital of Australia.

Overall school was quite similar to what we have here in Australia and the kids were great. The only thing that I found strange was the separation of classes for religion class into different religions with students not receiving any instruction about other religions. This school was a state school and I expected something more comprehensive in a country which has seen so much religious tension.

This was a far cry from the school I visited on Friday. The night before one of my friends told me to dress modestly so I could participate in an excursion for the level 6 students to a pesantaran (Islamic Boarding School). I was confused as to what to expect from this place as from a security studies background and from reports of mainstream media in Australia, these places have a reputation of being extremist with connotations of mujahadeen and fierce hatred of all things Western being common themes on news and television back home. We went to the school and met the Kyai (the head priest) who sat with us for tea and a chance to talk about what the school was all about.

Surprisingly this school was very liberal allowing people to visit and also operated as a trade school with students able to learn many useful skills. Another unusual aspect was the fact it was for university students who had six hours of study at the boarding school on top of university studies. I was impressed and felt this was a good introduction to something that realistically very few people know anything about. There is no doubt that other such schools operate with slightly more dubious goals however this was an example of people truly working to increase religious tolerance and understanding in Indonesia. After our talk with the Kyai we had a walk around the school meeting some of the students, following this we were asked if we wanted to go have a look inside the new mosque set in spectacular scenery with the mountains forming a magnificent backdrop. We all jumped at the chance and on the whole the visit was an incredible experience.

I realised I knew very little about Indonesian education before last week and after the two visits it was evident how important knowledge about these cultural aspects are no matter how mundane they may sound.

It’s a nice day for an Indonesian wedding

After experiencing the adventurous side of Indonesia at Sidomukti we returned home to Salatiga ready for a night on the couch watching movies, eating chocolate and recovering from the sunburn and bruises from our very physical day. However this plan was very quickly changed when while sitting on the couch watching some trashy Nat Geo documentaries, our host dad came in and told us he was taking us to the wedding of a friend of his son in 2 hours.

First we were confronted by what are we supposed to wear to this wedding? With the clothes I had packed more suitable for the dance floor of a night club than a Muslim wedding and no time to go and attempt to find something which actually fit me in the local mall, I was soon told that jeans and a long sleeve shirt was more than suitable and that we had to leave now as the wedding was in Boyolalyi. Now we really had no idea what we were getting ourselves into as we got into our jeep and drove for a long time on the road to Solo making small talk and wondering how far away we were as the start time for the wedding drew near. Then we saw a worrying sight. POLRI (Indonesian National Police) were up ahead on the road and the traffic was macet, stuck, until our host dad took the jeep up onto the side of the road and the friendly POLRI officer directed us into a parking spot. This alone blew my mind, the fact that the National Police had basically closed the road and were directing traffic for a wedding?

The second we walked through the door into the reception hall we saw the most amazing sight. The hall was full with room for about 800 people and at the front of the hall on the stage was a 2 metre high cake and massive couches for the bride and groom and their parents. Still unsure what would happen at this wedding and how the bride or groom really related to us, the room began to fill with Indonesian people wearing beautiful batik and traditional costumes and some of the most amazing Muslim dress I have ever seen.

Then the lights dimmed and the music started with the bride appearing surrounded by traditional dancers. The groom rode up and met her on a bicycle before they walked hand in hand to the stage together. What followed can only be described as a spectacle. There was dancers, a live band, the incredible cake, prayers in Arabic, speeches by people who we perceived to be important, Enya music, bubbles, a live band, a movie about how the couple met, I Will Survive performed in Indonesian and the release of doves. We enjoyed a 5 course meal served to us with absolute efficiency. The cake was then cut which was highlighted by the sword used to cut it and the fireworks which covered the stage at the same time and then it was over but not before the bride and groom performed a beautiful duet together. We heard basically every Western love song ever written and a great number of Indonesian ones.

As we walked out we shook hands with probably about 50 people all of whom were probably wondering who this tall white girl trying to speak Indonesian was (due to the other person living with me having Malaysian ancestry and blending in quite well as opposed to me the only Westerner) Then it was time to give the bride and groom my best wishes when I was warmly welcomed by the bride (in English) and sincerely thanked for coming to their wedding. That was good enough for me. I went outside saw the fireworks display they had arranged and had POLRI direct us back onto the busy road.

It was without a doubt the most amazing wedding I have been to and words can’t really do it any justice. There was a lot of excited conversation about the event we had just seen on the long drive back to Salatiga before we crashed after a ridiculously long day.

Adventure Sports- Indonesia Style

I have a general rule of thumb when going to places which offer adventure sports in foreign countries- they will either be a) talked up a lot but be incredibly sedate or b) be awesome and bordering on dangerous. When I found out that we were going to Sidomukti, an adventure park, for our excursion for university I wondered what category it would fall into. After an hours drive up windy roads and onto spectacular terraced landscapes we arrived at this park and were handed a booklet of tickets. It had 3 tickets- flying fox, marine bridge and rappelling, the last one made me particularly excited as it has been a few years since I did some abseiling.

First I went to the Flying Fox with a group of people from uni. Pak Sur one of the staff suggested I be the test and go first. I went up and looked for my harness while staring at the canyon I was about to cross which would have involved about a 50 metre drop. Then an Indonesian guy came over with what was basically just a strip of material which he wrapped around my waist in a harness like fashion. He then handed me a helmet to which I joked what use is it going to do me if I fall that far. Then I sat down and he pushed me off the ledge and I was suddenly flying at speed across the zip line so I spun around and gave a wave before seeing the cargo net awaiting me until another staff member pulled a rope which jerked me to a stop and I smacked my head into the wooden block there to catch me. Suddenly the helmet made sense and it was a real adrenalin rush.

Next came rappelling, the start to it didn’t really allow you to see how high the cliff was. So I got strapped into a proper (while still quite old) harness which I adjusted to make it actually fit after the guy put it on me, donned a helmet and a pair of massive gloves before being asked if I had done this before. I replied I had to which they replied off you go then. At this point I decided to ask that maybe they give me a basic refresher before backing slowly over the ledge keeping my legs straight and slowly making my way down. Then I looked around and saw that I was actually going down a massive cliff and got a bit nervous. Then I got into my groove and it started to come back to me and I started doing a few jumps before making it to the bottom and waiting for some of the others to join us. On our way up we did some calculations and worked out it was a 30 metre drop which was confirmed when we asked up the top and we laughed at how you would never be allowed to do that in Australia without training first.

We decided that next we would do the Marine Bridge although it would in no way be a challenge after our epic rappelling skills. We clipped ourselves onto the wire to walk across the cargo ne t about 60 metres long over the 35 metre drop to the valley floor. It started off fine with me making good pace until I got held up at the highest point by some people in front. Suddenly my fear of heights came to me and I started to freak out a bit while still having a fair way to travel. I eventually made it across and basically collapsed as soon as I got to the other side. Then I downed a bottle of energy water before being told by an American kid we had befriended that he had scored us some tickets to go ride the ATVs.

A big group of us went up to the ATV track with some of the people who had grown up on farms on quad bikes saying it would be easy. We jumped on these bikes which bounced around and were incredibly impossible to steer. It was in the end good fun despite the bruises, cuts, burns from the exhaust and the epic crashes into fences and trees. I also got stuck when a rock fell onto my back wheel and bogged in a patch of mud. After the 3 laps of the track we sat down and watched the hilarity as other members of our group took on the track. As much as people had talked themselves up, on these crappy little bikes they were no different to those of us who had barely ridden before (apart from one of the girls who was an absolute pro). After laughing, yelling and a lot of banter between everyone, covered in mud and dried blood we headed back to a restaurant for lunch before a drive through farms and villages and a good sleep on the way home.

At the end of the day Sidomukti probably falls into category b with a lot of fun to be had but the idea that you could possibly die or be horrifically injured at any second in your mind making for a fun day. It definitely made me keen for some more abseiling and ATV riding but perhaps back home or at least somewhere where I can use a proper harness and some more modern gear.

Semarang- Colonial Buildings and Mega Malls

After a long week of studying, this weekend was an opportunity to finally get out of Salatiga to discover some of the nearby cities. As most of us have done the Prambanan-Borobudur double in the past it was decided that we would go down to Semarang, the capital of our province Jawa Tengah, and see what it had to offer. Previously having spent a few hours in Semarang and seeing some of the major attractions, we started with a plan to get lost within the Kota Tua (old city) and explore the new mega mall.

The bus to Semarang from Salatiga is pretty straight forward and not an overly exciting trip. What we weren’t prepared for however was the impending madness of the Semarang bus terminal where we had to argue with several taxi drivers before finally agreeing on a price and hoping that we had explained the area of town we needed to go to so someone would actually understand. After being dropped off in what appeared to be the old city we realised that we were in fact no more than 100 metres from a church and restaurant where we had lunch last time we were in Semarang. The morning was spent wandering through the old city before heading over for lunch and to meet up with another one of our friends and experience Paragon Mall. The city proved suprising with people everywhere wanting to say hello or find out why these 5 Australians were exploring their kampung and pasar (small villages and markets) and where the sight of my digital SLR lead to becak drivers and stall owners to stop pushing their wares and instead become models with many requests for their photos to be taken directed in my direction.

Paragon is your typical Asian mega mall. Huge, full of expensive shops and in no way a reflection of the lives of the ordinary people outside. We spent a few hours cruising around the shops, having a bite to eat (Indonesian food despite our plans to only eat Western food) and a few of us went and bought ridiculously cheap polos from the ralph boutique. After this we went to Gramedia where I spent far too much on books I will struggle to be able to read before seeing more of the old city, getting caught in the rain and having some delicious ayam bakar (grilled chicken) from Ikan Bakar Cianjur where the food and atmosphere is incredible.

The plan had been to see a movie so we went to see The Tourist with Johnny Depp and Angelina Jolie which despite completely lacking a plot was welcome mindless entertainment. We decided afterwards to walk to Semawis the Chinese night markets for dinner which turned out to be a longer walk than most Indonesians would bother with and left us fending off the offers of becak drivers. While Semawis was somewhat disappointing due to the seasonal rain compared to my previous experience there, the satay from the warung (food stall) was exactly what we needed after hours of walking.

All there was left to do then was to go to our hotel Candi Baru, a great find in the good old Lonely Planet which had massive rooms for about $20 a night and was just a few flights of stairs away from the best expat bar in town (apparently) named On On Pub where we spent the night talking and laughing until the early hours of the next morning.

Semarang is still not viewed as a major tourist destination like many more popular places in Java however when you wander through the masses of old Dutch colonial buildings and see everyday life continue among the remnants of Indonesia’s past, you gain a better understanding of the rich history of this island and this country. Semarang truly is a city which is not just a business city but a place where there is so much to discover.

Leaving Home and the long journey to Salatiga

Hour 1- Sydney Airport just off the train from Central

As I sit here at Sydney Airport waiting to meet up with some fellow PIBBI participants, drinking a $9 beer and trying to pretend that I have had more than 3 hours sleep since 9am yesterday I am looking back on the last day and the journey ahead.

Going back to Indonesia seems natural, although the journey this time will be a long one as I don’t have any substantial stopovers like I did last time around. I will leave Sydney late tonight, endure a 6 hours stopover in KL in the early hours of the morning before flying to Jogja, waiting for another 2 hours and catching a bus up to Salatiga. I will keep updating at different stages of the journey.

New Years Eve was incredible. I stayed with my friend at Tamarama, saw David Guetta live on Bondi and discovered a lovely little bar which offered very cheap jugs of sangria and various cocktails (many of which were sampled) The night was unlike any similar gigs I have experienced in Canberra with the crowd being very friendly and lots of people wanting to have a chat. After the mindblowing experience of David Guetta and Armand Van Helden and some late night 7/11 Slushies and a trek back to “Glamarama” (eventually getting home just shy of 4am), the day today consisted of lunch in Chinatown, buying unnecessary items at Paddys and Starbucks in Darling Harbour. After being attacked by pigeons while trying to read the paper at Central Station and enduring the joy which is CityRail here I am in the International Terminal. That’s about it for now, will probably buy some duty free stuff but should probably get back to my beer as it is quickly becoming warm.

Salatiga- 6:05pm WIB (10:05pm AEST)

So here I am at my host family having had only about 2 hours sleep since I last wrote giving me a grand total of about 5 hours sleep for 2011 so far. The flight to KL was uneventful- the plane was noisy and crowded and I was exhausted so couldn’t get into any of the movies yet was not tired enough to get any sleep. Then after arriving in KL at 3am forward thinking Mel had booked a lounge for herself leaving Danny and myself to our own devices resulting in 6 hours of walking around in circles in an empty airport and a few breaks for coffee- again no sleep. We met up with Mel again and boarded our flight to Jogja thinking that it was all down hill from there. No sooner had we got onto the runway came a message from the pilot that due to a technical issue we would have to go back to the gate. Then after sitting in the plane drinking juice for 20 minutes everyone was made to get off and sit in the airport for almost two hours without any updates on the process. Coincidently we ran into some of the girls from Melbourne Uni studying in Salatiga so spent our time getting to know them. Then it was back onto a new plane for a smooth take off and even a small nap!

Arriving in Jogja was a shock as Indonesian Immigration has really stepped their game up since last year. Not only was my passport stamped but my finger prints were recorded and photos were taken. They even had an xray machine to scan everyone’s luggage. After this we managed to catch our friends to get the bus with them to Salatiga (despite being 2 hours later than expected) and endured the long 2 hour bumpy car ride to Salatiga. Since arriving I have caught up with my host family (fantastic to see them all again) and walked into town to buy a SIM Card and in what my friend Hannah would call a classic Courtney move; managed to get caught in the afternoon downpour without an umbrella.

So after that long winded explanation of what was a very long 28 hours it is time for me to go and eat some delicious Indonesian food and attempt to get a decent nights sleep before the opening of PIBBI tomorrow.