tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-59396753258427510982024-03-05T21:37:18.553+07:00A Year in IndonesiaAndrea Willgohshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15350376515309619075noreply@blogger.comBlogger24125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5939675325842751098.post-74880257186683339762012-06-21T04:25:00.001+07:002013-09-15T02:21:14.038+07:00"Menarilah dan Terus Tertawa"<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: white;"> Things I Will Miss About Indonesia:</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: white;">1. <b>Javanese dance and the traditional arts.</b> I used to be so excited by the thought of being able to come back and show everyone what I've learned, but now I've realized that no one back home will understand it like I do. Things are never as fun when you're the only one. I remember back to the time that I first arrived at school and saw a few routines- they looked so foreign and odd, certainly interesting, but a little overwhelming, too. Now that I know the correct forms, names, and a few meanings I can't help but really enjoy watching Javanese dance- something that I won't be able to share with most people back home. I went to see the Ramayana play at Prambanan Temple last week (this is a long, confusing mythological Indonesian story that is told completely through traditional dance) and I absolutely loved it because I could pick out different ragams ("That's ulap-ulap, that's kengser..") and I got to see a lot of stuff that I learned myself at SMKI. (There were several ragams at the end of my kelas I gagah routine that looked sort of funny and I didn't particularly enjoy because the body positions and head moevements were way different from typical gagah style- but it turns out that's how the monkeys in Ramayana are performed :) ) There also isn't strong traditional culture in the States like in Indonesia. That I'll miss, too: the special holidays and celebrations, languages, finding out the reasons behind certain customs or habits; I am always learning new things here. </span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: white;">2.<b> Hearing the call to prayer.</b> I will miss waking up in the middle of the night and hearing Arabic lyrics floating through my window, and knowing it's around 4:30 am and I still have 45 minutes before I should shower. Each masjid here has loudspeakers mounted next to the building or on the roof, and five times a day they blast, quite literally, a call to prayer. It's all in Arabic, but the lyrics are close to 'There is no God other than Allah', 'Allah is the most powerful/the most great', 'Come everyone and praise Allah', and other short phrases. During prayer times most radio channels play the call, and local TV channels stop their programs to broadcast the call along with translations in Indonesian. Some masjids have live 'callers', but recordings are used also. I can't tell if all the calls say the same thing, or if each masjid uses the same call five times a day because I don't know Arabic and it's difficult to sort out the different sounds and words. I do think that the calls are different on Fridays- at least it sounds that way to me.</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: white;">3. <b>Spicy food.</b> Yeah, there's spicy food back home but not spicy by Indonesian standards, and not as easy to find. Here, at nearly every restaurant there's a cup of sambal (real chilli sauce- not the bottled kind) at each table. And I feel like I've finally come into my prime of spice tolerance- I can add two big spoonfulls of sambal to my meal and not bat an eyelash. Nowadays I regularly use more sambal than members of my host family. Sigh. I'll miss that burn on my lips. </span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: white;">4.<b> Eating with my hands. </b>The best feeling is being able to pick up rice without making a mess, and also without everyone staring. At first everyone at school would stop and watch me eat- because I was obviously having difficulties and feeling awkward (also because I would sometimes use my left hand- dumb), tapi sekarang sudah terbiasa. It feels normal, and makes meal times more entertaining, enjoyable. Also, there are less dishes to do afterward. </span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: white;">5. <b>Cheap prices.</b> Generally I am very good at keeping my wallet glued shut, but lately I've been on a small shopping spree since I soon won't be able to find clothes for ten dollars at regular price. It'll probably be hardest to go out to eat back in the States- here a normal meal is 6.000 to 12.000 rupiah, including a drink, and that's about $0.66 to $1.33 US. I can't imagine paying $20 US for a plate of food. I've also gotten much better, and more comfortable, with haggling. On my last trip to Malioboro I wanted to buy sate telur puyuh (quail egg sate) from a street vendor. She told me a price double of what it typically is, and when I told her this ("Biasanya cuma seribu, mbak...") she looked a bit put off, but gave me my price anyways. Trying to gain an extra 11 cents off the foreign girl? Not today! I also helped another inbound haggle for a bag that I paid about 2/3 more for several months ago. That's a bit disappointing, because I didn't know the right price back then. But you live and you learn. Why are there not traditional markets in Minnesota? I'll miss that kind of shopping. </span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: white;">6. <b>Drinking out of plastic bags.</b> Almost every day for the last three weeks after school I would buy jus buah segar (fresh fruit juice) from a small stand across the street. Usually either manggo, sirsak, or tape (fermented cassava) and I'd drink it out of a plastic bag with a straw. It's cheaper, makes less garbage, and gives you something to have in your hands while you're bored waiting to be picked up. I think I especially like this because it seemed So Weird when I first got here. I had heard about people in Asia eating with their hands, but not drinking out of plastic bags.</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: white;">7. <b>Tropical fruits.</b> Sirsak, manggo, sawo, kesemek, pisang, buah naga, belimbing, manggis, markisa, kelapa, duku, duren, pepino, melon, nanas, papaya, jambu, salak, pir singa, jeruk, tape, apulkat, asam, sirikaya... *Sniff* *Tear* </span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: white;"> Things I am Looking Forward to in Minnesota:</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: white;">1. <b>Knowing all the rules.</b> This has been the biggest challenge for me this year- learning the different customs within the Indonesian family, and the differences with Chinese and Javanese family customs. It seems like there are an endless amount of rules: who it is appropriate to ask for things or talk to about problems, and when; where you should sit in the car or at the dinner table (this changes with different situations, too); what is expected when guests arrive, what is the appropriate way to sit at home (this applies to girls only) and in public, and so on. So many. I'm looking forward to not having to feel nervous if I'm doing something incorrectly. </span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: white;">2. <b>Toilet paper.</b> </span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: white;">3. <b>Family and Friends that I Haven't Seen in Awhile (A Long While).</b></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: white;"> I'm sure there are many more things that I'll be adding to both of these lists after I switch back to my home culture and start relearning the 'normal' things- it's difficult to think of everything at one time. Small miss/don't miss-es will reveal themselves throughout the next few months of reverse culture shock. It's odd to think about how far away I've been for the last year- geographically and culturally. After remembering how difficult it's been to adjust here, it makes me a little nervous to come home. If this already feels normal, then will Minnesota feel more foreign than like home? I don't think so, I hope not, but this is a lingering thought..</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: white;">I. Am. So. Sorry. But I promise this will be quick- I just need to type up one last food update. I've managed to meet a few good meals and snacks in my last few days here in Indonesia.</span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Cobra burger! And only 8.000 rp- around 86 cents.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A chicken head. It doesn't look like there are eyes, but don't worry, they're just sunken back into the head. I ate those, too, along with the brain, tongue, and a little meat on the neck. I prefer the eyes, overall. They taste (and crunch) somewhat like sandy oysters. And this being the third try now- I have concluded that brain is not my thing. Even a little bitty chicken brain makes my stomach churn. </td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Jangkrik (Cricket). Surpirsingly soft and sweetish? Compared to belalang, anyways.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Belalang (Grasshopper). They don't taste like much; a little crunchy and salty. Just intimidating to look at.</td></tr>
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... And one last update on what I've been doing and seeing lately.</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Ramayana<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 13px; padding-top: 4px; text-align: center;">The monkey army<br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">And I suppose this is my one last chance to mention SMKI, too. It's been seven days since I've last gone to school, and it already feels like forever. I am <i>incredibly thankful</i> that I was enrolled at a traditional arts school- especially one with such a friendly, helpful student body. It was a dream, truly. Learning traditional Yogya style dance, gamelan, ngembang, rias busana- this is something I'd never thought I'd be able to do, and something I will never forget. Incredible. Traditional Javanese culture is overwhelming in it's complexity, and yet all the different parts seem to fit together in art (mythology, religion, dance, music, costume)- I could spend several more exchange years here and still have much yet to learn.</span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 13px; padding-top: 4px; text-align: center;">In the middle is Sinta, the main princess in Ramayana. The story is basically about a prince who wants to marry Sinta, but she is kidnapped by another prince and so the first courter goes on a search for her. There are several other side stories; it gets a bit complex. I loved watching the dancer who played Sinta. </td></tr>
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So this is it. The end. I can't say I'm not excited to be in Minnesota again- meet my family at the airport, eat oatmeal for breakfast again, not to mention wear summer dresses when it's hot- but there is certainly a little bit of Indonesia that will stay with me. The depth of culture and customs, focus on preservation of tradition, passion in religion, and respect for elders that I've found here have captured a piece of my heart. Ada bagian diriku yang tetap orang jawa. A part of me will always be Javanese. </div>
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I've packed my bags and said my goodbyes: I guess that means I'm ready to go home. I won't leave anything behind except host family gifts and some old clothes; the skills, experiences, and good memories I think I'll take with me. The hardships and challenges from the past ten months I'll stuff in my back pocket, use them on bad days to help me keep things in perspective. I don't think I'll encounter anything in my near future that's as hard as leaving family and friends and flying across the world, or the frustrations of trying to adjust and assimilate to an unfamiliar culture. I also don't think I'll find anything as rewarding as knowing I survived through it all, and even made some other accomplishments of my own. </div>
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In true Indonesian fashion, I'd like to thank everyone that has supported and followed me through these past ten months. I apologize for shortcomings in my blog, long gaps between posts, and the limited amount of information I've offered. There's so much in Indonesia- I couldn't hope to give a satisfying snapshot of the Spice Islands with just ten months. And so, no longer a Javanese dancer but just a college kid from Minnesota, I'll sign off for the last time and take my flight home. Come on over to Northfield sometime and I'll cook rendang and fix you a glass of jahe wangi. </div>
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Terima Kasih dan Berkah Dalem. Thank you and Bless you all. </div>
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-Andrea</div>
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Andrea Willgohshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15350376515309619075noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5939675325842751098.post-68466308698879646922012-06-12T13:06:00.000+07:002013-09-15T02:32:06.655+07:00Makanan Khas Yogya dan Lain-Lain As if you haven't read enough about food in this blog- there's more talk of Indonesian cuisine coming your way.<br />
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Apologies in advance.<br />
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But I realize that I haven't yet told you about Gudeg: makananya khas Yogya, my city's specialty dish. Here in Indonesia every city has at least one dish (usually a few) that are unique to that city. In Yogya, it's gudeg and bakpia. In Bali there's batter fried peanuts, dodol, and brem Bali. The lapis legit cake that I posted about a long time ago is khas Jawa Timur, only made in East Java, and if you remember nasi pecel, the best is from Madiun, near the the northern coast of the island.<br />
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So if you ever come to Yogyakarta, you have to try gudeg, because anywhere else it won't taste as good. Then again, I think I'm the only Yogya inbound that likes gudeg so I perhaps I should say it won't taste as bad in Yogya? Gudeg has several components that are always served together, but the main event is young jackfruit (called gori) that is boiled in gula Jawa for several hours until it becomes dark red-brown and soft. It's served with krecek, which is like a chip made of animal fat then fried in a spicy sauce. Generally this is accompanied by a duck egg boiled in kecap manis, and you can add chicken as well. The egg and the gudeg are sweet, which can be a nice break from all the spicy food in Indonesia. Do I need to say it's served with rice?<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKojT_8KDVaOQFvy6YDbLCk-8sLQGkKiarWqGVKPmak4UkGR1YIq7qo4sqdmZaB1tYPSkrJ9oBHxbhWePpLHZMcd-rDPSDmU7W3ndBs9UsZafrtIAbVXJRriRZt2RhfkzrOu1Tc5jv9X4/s1600/P5190006.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKojT_8KDVaOQFvy6YDbLCk-8sLQGkKiarWqGVKPmak4UkGR1YIq7qo4sqdmZaB1tYPSkrJ9oBHxbhWePpLHZMcd-rDPSDmU7W3ndBs9UsZafrtIAbVXJRriRZt2RhfkzrOu1Tc5jv9X4/s400/P5190006.JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The krecek is the big orange piece on top, in front is tempe slices and chillies fried with the krecek. The gudeg is underneath the krecek- you can only see a small bit next to the egg (looks like a piece of beef). I'll admit it took me a few tries to like gudeg- and I'm glad I got used to the flavors because I get invited to eat it a lot, and a common question upon meeting someone here is "Pernah makan gudeg? Suka?" Have you tried gudeg? Do you like it? (And the answer they're looking for is yes.)</td></tr>
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My host mother swears that the best in Yogya is gudeg Yu Djum. I went to the main kitchen off of Jalan Kaliurang (there are three Yu Djum restaurants in the city) and got to meet <i>the</i> Yu Djum: an old, thin Javanese woman wearing the traditional kebaya and jarik. She didn't say much; she was busy sitting on the floor ripping banana leaves for the order-out baskets. Yu Djum was the original gudeg cook, but now her grandaughters run the business, which has become famous throughout Yogya because they only use wood-burning kompors to cook.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Back in the kitchen at Gudeg Yu Djum</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKURhmSlRbVR8fdt2NSvC7cNYfKmJi5L9StiKLJeI211npUlZs1jclHigKlV1GY7_xttrEpRw8G3MF3JEYGczHcOBLc4uPYALdVxBRL0t3D-N79RVRUJXNEE5S09bOBnOuljd6g4dxXVg/s1600/P6100095.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKURhmSlRbVR8fdt2NSvC7cNYfKmJi5L9StiKLJeI211npUlZs1jclHigKlV1GY7_xttrEpRw8G3MF3JEYGczHcOBLc4uPYALdVxBRL0t3D-N79RVRUJXNEE5S09bOBnOuljd6g4dxXVg/s400/P6100095.JPG" height="400" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Just the other day my host family and I were out eating soto for breakfast, and Yu Djum shows up with two of her granddaughters. So I asked for a picture. One of the granddaughters said she is 80 years old. Yu, by the way, is a Javanese word used to address an older sister. </td></tr>
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During my year here I've eaten sate ayam, kambing, babi, and keong (chicken, goat, pork (a hard one to find- we had to go to a dark alley off of Malioboro), and snail) and now I can add one more- sate kelinci. Rabbit. It tastes like you would imagine bunny to taste: tender and mild. The sauce is like a mixture of sate kambing and sate ayam sauce; it has both peanuts, chillies, and sweet kecap manis. Rather delicious. The best part was that it was all fairly good cuts of meat. Usually if you buy sate ayam off a cart vendor the first and last pieces on the kebab are meat, the middle ones are skin or fat.<br />
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And I am officially in a fruit frazzle. I only have a little over a week left and I will be leaving all the tropical fruits I have grown to adore. I'm quite certain I will never enjoy a banana in the States ever again. There are about twenty different types of bananas here and even the ones meant for bird food are sweeter than American bananas. The best kind is pisang raja, which can only be found in a produce market (not in grocery stores or fruit stands, generally); it's somewhat short and a bright yellow-orange color on the inside. And So Sweet. My second host family had two pisang raja trees on the side of their house and when the bunches ripened I think I averaged about three a day. What I would love more than anything is to bring back some pisang raja for my Dad's banana bread, but I don't think my bag would make it through customs. I've heard from an Indonesian living near L.A. that she has found pisang raja in an international market there, so maybe there's still hope.<br />
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Though I do enjoy Indonesian bananas, my new favorite fruit is sawo, or sapodilla in English. Have you ever heard of a sapodilla before? I hadn't, before I looked it up on Google a while ago. They have a very odd flavor- my first thought was apricot jam. Very sweet, and a hint almost like caramel. Yum. I bought jus sawo the other day and shared a sip with Pauline, the inbound from Belgium. She paused, gave me a perplexed look and said "How can you drink that? It's not bad, it's just.... weird". I guess it's a weird delicious.<br />
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A fruit that just came into season here is kesemek. It is like a cross between an apple and a mango: crunchy but orange and tropical flavored. What I like is there are no seeds on the inside, so you have no worries while eating :)<br />
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What takes the cake as the oddest fruit I've eaten so far is nutmeg fruit. Baru dicoba tadi malam, I just tried it last night, in dried form, actually. In Indonesian dried fruit is called manisan, and when I saw manisan pala I was confused- is that really nutmeg fruit? (This I learned from looking at recipes: pala halus is ground nutmeg). It looked like clementine-sized slices of dried mango. The flavor was surprisingly similar to the actual nut, and spicy like ginger.<br />
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Last piece of talk about food, I promise- but this one has special significance for my Norwegian heritage. I've been collecting some traditional Indonesian recipes, and there are several common spices/herbs in Indonesian cooking that I had never heard of, and no idea what they looked like. (How am I supposed to cook these if I don't know what the ingredients are?) One of these ingredients was keluak. With a little more research I found it's referred to as the Indonesian Black Nut (a fitting name since in the grocery store it turned out to be a big black nut). Now the bark, leaves, fruit, and seeds of a keluak tree are all poisonous; if crushed or bruised they excrete a chemical like cyanide. It is said that some Indonesian tribes crush the bark and then throw it into rivers/ponds to stun fish and make them easy to catch. The keluak nut has also been known to be placed inside fresh caught fish to preserve them. It's like an Indonesian lutefisk :)<br />
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For me, I plan to use the keluak to make rawon and brongkos, saucy dishes that look like mud but taste much better. Luckily, all keluak products sold in stores have already gone through processes of boiling, drying, etc, to make them edible, so I won't have to worry about that part. I guess I really should try Norwegian lutefisk once I get back to Minnesota, too- since I've made it a habit to eat out of the ordinary dishes (according to me) in Indonesia, I should probably start on the local oddities once I get back home.<br />
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I can't believe I've already come to this point, but I only have around a week left here in Yogya so I'm not sure if I'll be able to fire off another post before I get on my plane home. Hopefully I'll find some time to round out my blog with a post about something other than food... Tapi belum tentu, it's not for sure, though, because I'm already in the process of cramming everything I haven't seen/done into my last days here, not to mention packing and saying goodbye. And rumors are there's a restaurant that serves cobra in Yogya, so you can bet I'll be roaming the city looking for that one last mealtime thrill.<br />
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Kita segera ketemu kembali! We will soon meet again!<br />
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<br />Andrea Willgohshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15350376515309619075noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5939675325842751098.post-75258922384463484152012-05-30T11:15:00.000+07:002013-09-15T02:48:02.507+07:00Batik<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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This is a blog post a few months in the making: caranya membatik. How to batik. </div>
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I can't remember exactly how this all got started, but one day I went to a batik shop in Yogya with my second host father and came home to Karangjati with a bunch of supplies. After that I spent a good number of hours after school drawing patterns on cloth with melted wax (called malan) using a batiking tool called a canting.<br />
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There are many different sizes of canting, meaning the spout of the tool is larger or smaller depending on how detailed you need to be. I was told by an SMKI teacher that the canting should never be out of the malan for more than 15 seconds (which is longer than it sounds). I've found this is a good rule to follow because it makes sure the wax you're using is always hot, and it lessens the chance that you'll drip. A canting isn't an advanced tool; it's made from a piece of wood and thin metal cup/spout attached with wire, so if you let it sit over the cloth long enough, it's bound to drip. (And I am much too familiar with this, as you can see in the picture above). In order to batik, you dip the canting cup into the malan, fill it about half way or less, then directly draw it on the fabric. If the malan is too hot, it'll run out of the canting in a continuous stream; if it's too cold it won't come out at all. So you have to watch the consistency of the wax and adjust accordingly.</div>
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The other necessity for batiking is the kompor, or burner. This is also not very advanced; the one I used was made of tin (and cost around four dollars). There are six strings dipped in oil that you light by hand, and a small lever to raise or lower the string tips to control the temperature (in theory). The kompor is sometimes frustrating- not heating evenly, or becoming too hot even at the lowest setting. Electric burners work much better, these are what they used at the professional batik shop where I once took a batik lesson. What would be better yet is an electric canting- looks like a hot glue gun- but these are expensive by Indonesian standards (over 30 US). And I figure if I'm going to learn to batik the traditional way (called 'tulis' or 'written' as opposed to 'cap' (stamped) batik, or the printed kind) I should use traditional tools. (I suppose the most traditional would have been using a ceramic, wood-burning kompor, like we used at the SMKI cook-out... That would have been a bit complicated though). </div>
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There are two different kinds of malan that they sold at the batik store- brown and a lighter, clearish kind. Now, the picture above looks like I used both kinds, but that's just because the malan gets increasingly darker as it cooks in the kompor (I always bought the brown malan). Also, I admit, I liked to bake the heck out of my wax when I was first starting because the hotter the wax, the faster it spreads on the fabric, speeding up the whole process. This resulted in some messy lines and dark malan. I don't know if it will make a difference in the dying process, using well-done malan to batik, but hopefully my laziness didn't cost me too much. When I was first starting to batik everyone told me batiking was an art of patience- you have to work slowly. I thought I was all over the 'patience' thing, but as I got more practice and started caring more about the results, I stopped to change the malan in the canting more often (actually following the 15 second rule) and used cooler wax. You can see the difference between my first cloth and my last, too. Neater, less drips. </div>
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Now for the dying process. </div>
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Like I mentioned before, I took a short class at a batik shop (this was after I had started batiking at home, though another inbound signed up to take a class so I tagged along), and that was the first time I saw the batik dying process. It was intimidating, to say the least, particularly mixing the dye. There was a table full of little bags of white powder and a scale, and one of the workers would take spoonfuls of one powder, weigh it, then add another powder, weigh it again, take some away... As an Indonesian would say: pusing. Gives you a headache. After that I started thinking that I may not want to dye my fabric at home by myself- after all the hours I spent drawing on the wax, it'd be a pity to ruin the results because I'm a novice dyer. At this particular batik shop, they dipped the fabric in water first, then dipped it in another clear liquid, then dipped it in dye. For the first two steps, the fabric soaked just in plastic buckets but the color dye was poured into a hip-height cement trough and the fabric was pulled through the dye about six inches at a time until the whole pieces was colored. Then the fabric was hung on a line to dry for a few minutes, and if the color wasn't dark enough, they'd pull it through the dye again.</div>
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Since I finished all of my wax work right before I changed houses, I enlisted the help of my third host mom to find a batik place that would dye my fabric for me (she took me to the place in Tamansari she regularly buys batik 'paintings' from). Here, they did a slightly different dyeing process. </div>
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First, the fabric was stretched and pinned onto a bamboo frame, then soaked with water. Pak Widoto (the person doing the dyeing) used a towel to wipe off the excess water, then started applying the dye. </div>
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He used a sponge to apply the dye, then used his fingers to blend the colors together (I chose to do two different types of blue). I'm not sure if this was the same type of dye as at the first shop, but it's machine washable, which is a plus. There are certain batik fabrics that are hand-wash only (which wouldn't be too big of a deal since I'm already experienced in that particular area :) ). </div>
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After finishing putting on the dye, Pak Widoto said we have to wait until the fabric completely dries, soak it again with water, wait for it to dry, then finally boil off the wax. This part I didn't see, but I did get a glimpse of it at the first batik shop. The fabric is put into a big metal pot of boiling water, stirred around with a stick for awhile, then taken out to dry. Fingers crossed my batik turns out well! I really like how the pattern looked with the gold wax and blue dye, but hopefully it looks just as good when the motif is white (after the wax is gone, leaving the plain white fabric). We should be picking up the final product in the next few days. Pak Widoto said it'd be ready by Monday or Tuesday, but my host mother Bu Dwi said, for the Javanese, that means Wednesday or Thursday. </div>
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To round out my post, as always, I have to add a piece about food. Last Friday I finally met a chance to redeem myself, though it wasn't fish brain this time but goat brain (either goat or sheep, Indonesians call them both by the same name). I went to a street-side food stand that sold sop kaki kambing- goat foot soup- and just about every other odd piece of meat/tissue you can find on a goat, including the brain. My host father and I bought a good mix of everything and brought it home, where I carefully fished out a piece of brain from broth. It was a modest chunk, white and squiggly, and it turned right to mush in my mouth, like a cracker that's been left in soup for too long. I managed to eat the one piece, but I definitely didn't ask for a second taste. Now, I've eaten intestine with rancid smelling I-don't-want-to-know-what on the inside (and that tasted awful, really) but brain is still something that I'm less than enthusiastic about putting on my spoon. It doesn't even taste bad, but still makes my insides squirm, and that's frustrating. I suppose that's something I just have to accept. Brain isn't my thing. </div>
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For my little time remaining in Indonesia I have several more events on my culinary agenda, so stay tuned. I'm experiencing a last minute burst of blogging energy- I still have so much more to tell about my experiences here in Yogya before I'm a plain old American again. </div>
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Until next time! Sampai jumpa!</div>
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Andrea Willgohshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15350376515309619075noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5939675325842751098.post-29422949503849102882012-05-19T11:08:00.000+07:002013-09-20T08:01:20.027+07:00Borobudur, Prambanan, dan Rendang Last weekend I visited Borobudur for the third time, but I still have yet to post a blog about it. Pemalas. Lazy. However it works out well now that I just got back from Prambanan, the other major temple in Yogya, so I can blog about them both in one post. According to everyone I've talked to, foreigners and Indonesians alike, Borobudur is big but Prambanan is more beautiful. In my opinion they're both stunning, but I happen to like Borobudur better (the park is better kept and the temple and surroundings are more photogenic).<br />
Borobudur is a Buddhist temple about an hour north of Yogya, and Prambanan is a Hindu temple located on the east side of the city. Every month at Prambanan there is an outdoor performance of Ramayana, a long Indonesian mythical story (depicted through traditional dance) which I hope to see in the next few weeks. Here are a few pictures of each temple:<br />
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In order to read the carvings of Borobudur, you walk around the temple clockwise, starting from the bottom.</div>
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There are nine levels to Borobudur, and the progression from the bottom level to the top of the temple represents ascension to Nirvana. </div>
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The view from the very top.</div>
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Candi Prambanan</div>
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This is the biggest temple at Prambanan, dedicated to Shiva.</div>
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Surrounding the primary eight temples of Prambanan are ruins from other smaller, uncovered temples. The legend of the Prambanan temple complex, briefly, is that a princess was ordered to marry the person who had killed her father, so she said that she would marry him only if he could build her one thousand temples in one night. Her courter then called upon his own dead father and enlisted the help of ghosts and demons to build all the temples. My host father told me that if I ever get proposed to, I should ask the guy to build me a thousand temples, and see how it works out. </div>
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Now for a quick change of subject: last Thursday I got the chance to take another Indonesian cooking class. This time I cooked for real, not just make snacks. I went back to AKS and learned to make nasi kuning, nasi kebuli, arem-arem, tempe kering, sambal kelapa, and rendang. Nasi kuning (yellow rice) is served at celebrations (it's shaped into a tall cone and someone important is chosen to take out the first scoop. If you remember the SMKI 50th birthday celebration at the very beginning of my year, I served the first cut of nasi kuning to the sultan of Yogya but didn't understand what was going on. <i>What? A mountain of rice? And where am I supposed to take it?</i>) and generally it's paired with tempe kering and sambal kelapa, along with other dishes of choice. So now I can cook myself a traditional Indonesian welcome home party when I get back (though I'll have to guess at how to shape the rice into a cone...) Nasi kebuli is rice cooked with several different spices, an Arab dish. I've been wanting to make arem-arem all year (rice filled with spicy shredded chicken, wrapped in a banana leaf and steamed) and turns out it's really easy to make, but really difficult to wrap. My hopes of making arem-arem for my extended family have been extinguished- though perhaps it'll be easier to fold and skewer a corn husk than a banana leaf (I figure this would be the closest substitution). </div>
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The highlight of my lesson was rendang- said to be the most delicious food in the world. Rendang is a combination of spices and coconut milk that you can cook with meat or eggs (the most well-known is with beef) and you boil it down until it makes a thick pasty coating around whatever you're cooking. The first time I tried it I was certainly taken aback- the flavor is Intense and almost hurt, like when you eat too many Sour Patch Kids- it wasn't spicy in the chili sense, but had so many other spices that it was like a flavor bombardment. The rendang I made at AKS was the same way; my host mother said I should make the spices a little less strong if I cook it in the States, so people can enjoy it :) I think I prefer the spice explosion on my palate, though. </div>
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And you're due for an update: I changed host families a week ago, so I'm now living in Yogya again (actually, only a few streets away from my first house). I'll admit I'm sad to leave village life behind. I miss boiling water in the morning for my tea, and washing my own dishes and clothes. I guess that means I'm a creature of routine. But I am very happy in my new home with Bu Dwi, Pak Benny, and my two host brothers Mas Aldi and Ardi; I just have to wait to build a new routine back in the city. And I have to say- air conditioning is <i>so</i> nice. </div>
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That's the news for now. I hope everyone is enjoying the summer back in Minnesota! I have to wait a few more weeks until my vacation starts, the last day of finals at SMKI is June 12th. I'm looking forward to testing time, just because I think I'm going to do fairly well (and there's no pressure because I don't actually get graded. How do you think traditional dance scores would transfer anyways?). I'll certainly let you know how things go :)</div>
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Sampai jumpa semuanya! </div>
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Andrea Willgohshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15350376515309619075noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5939675325842751098.post-37206392326824746232012-05-09T11:31:00.000+07:002015-01-06T04:13:45.590+07:00Belajar Bikin Kue Tradisional<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
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Now that I only have a few weeks left here in Indonesia (a
few weeks, is that right??) I’ve been thinking about everything I’ve done so
far, and what I have yet to do in the little time that remains! Ah stressful.
But in the best way possible.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Before leaving
Minnesota, I had made a “To Do List” for my exchange year here in Indonesia-
and I don’t think I even brought it with me. I don’t know if I’ll be able to
recall all ten goals, but this is a good time to go through it and see how I’ve
done so far. <o:p></o:p></div>
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<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Firstly,
‘Learn bahasa Indonesia’ was surely on my list, and I think it’s safe to say I
can check that one off (thankfully- I remember when I first arrived here and I
was so frustrated with not being able to communicate. I had also thought that
Indonesian would ‘just come to me’ after awhile, since I had heard it was such
an easy language to learn, but that turned out to be wishful thinking). Also on my list was ‘learn traditional
dance’. Double check that one, and write SMKI afterwards circled with a big
heart. Now I’m not sure, but fairly certain, that ‘learn to cook Indonesian
food’ was on there- which leads me to my main point for this post…<o:p></o:p></div>
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<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Around the
middle of my exchange I had mentioned to a Rotarian that I’d like to learn to
make Indonesian kue (translates to ‘cake’, but this can mean anything from a
popover to jelly snack) particularly because one of the Yogya Tugu Rotarians
owns a bakpia bakery. One of my very first posts about food here mentioned how I
liked bakpia, and I really wanted to get the recipe. The trip to the bakery
never worked out, but I did get quite a good replacement: lessons at AKS, a
vocational academy for cooking, sewing, and hairdressing/cosmetics, and visits
to three different kitchens to learn to make an assortment of snacks, kue
lapis, and moci. Good thing I had five days off of school so I could fit this
all in!<o:p></o:p></div>
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<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>First I
went to the snack shop owned by a friend of the Yogya Tugu Youth Exchange Program coordinator. She runs
a small shop, but also distributes to markets around the city, and caters
and fills private orders. Here I helped make risoles, martabak telur, kroket,
and lumpia. These are all fried snacks- the martabak and lumpia use a stir fry
filling and are wrapped in a thin pancake, and the krokets and risoles are
potato dough mixed with veggies or minced meat and then rolled in bread crumbs.
I also watched the making of roll cake and ‘brownies’, which aren’t like
American brownies at all, but just chocolate cake. One quick note here: Indonesians
love to mix chocolate with cheese. I thought this was so odd when I first
arrived, but it’s become a normal sight. And if you ever make it over to this
side of the world and order cheesecake, just know you won’t get a heavy cream
cheese pie, but a frosted vanilla cake with shredded white cheddar cheese on
top. They also make many other snacks and pastries which I hope I can
learn how to make, too, at some point. <o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiA6TQ3HqdLKR1mM89Am3G2mNfke8M6b-gdIpGIIosFQ_7e4fgTaomNzWT13ykykXY12LrZOpRDWrKtu84a_EdnligbNa5t5Se2UJUK6NMm0qOZpJUPNbFhk4hSXvvT_UfXnydbj0u91A/s1600/P4150076.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiA6TQ3HqdLKR1mM89Am3G2mNfke8M6b-gdIpGIIosFQ_7e4fgTaomNzWT13ykykXY12LrZOpRDWrKtu84a_EdnligbNa5t5Se2UJUK6NMm0qOZpJUPNbFhk4hSXvvT_UfXnydbj0u91A/s320/P4150076.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Here's the Indonesian brownies and cheesecake, as well as a danish, risoles, lumpia, kroket, fruit pie, pisang goreng (fried banana), macaroni, and what I think is called suis (like a bite size chicken salad sandwich).</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Next, on to
AKS. Here I worked with Suster Maria Angela, a nun who teaches cooking classes
at the academy, and together we made mento, dadar gulung, talam ubi, kelepon,
and onde-onde. One thing that I’ve learned about Indonesian cooking is that
there are usually a ton of spices, and none of them are in powder form. This is
good because it means all the spices are fresh, but it also means you have to
prepare most of them using a mortar and pestle. Turns out crushing spices is hard work; I’m not very good at it. A lot of recipes use garlic and you have to
smash the cloves into a paste before adding the other ingredients- for me
that’s the hardest. Pepper is pretty difficult, too, because the kernels
like to fly off the mortar when I’m attempting to crack them into powder.</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiMw6DfEw31lVlzV6xkCwo_NKRRFCrIertY1qbtpJhC13nBBRgz9ZQsIrjDDIoS3KEwKYt5HxkFgazU9weqtme4zV1YX-BosgJH0ELWIm0fQqkl16nc3Sy3YwzYA0ytst4vHJj0_wy7eU/s1600/P4150078.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiMw6DfEw31lVlzV6xkCwo_NKRRFCrIertY1qbtpJhC13nBBRgz9ZQsIrjDDIoS3KEwKYt5HxkFgazU9weqtme4zV1YX-BosgJH0ELWIm0fQqkl16nc3Sy3YwzYA0ytst4vHJj0_wy7eU/s320/P4150078.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Suster Maria crushing the mento spices (because I was taking forever) at AKS. If you can see on the table there's fresh daun sirih, daun jeruk, jahe, merica, and other spices.</td></tr>
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<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>So
technically these were lessons to just make snacks, but the recipes sure took a
long time to complete. Now, dadar gulung and mento are basically the same
thing, filling wrapped in a thin pancake, except the first is filled with
coconut and the mento is filled with chicken stir fry, then covered in coconut
sauce and wrapped in a banana leaf and steamed.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Talam ubi is a funny Jello-like snack half flavored with coconut milk
and half with ubi (like a sweet potato, but bright purple). Kelepon looks the
weirdest- small green balls of rice dough filled with melted gula jawa (palm sugar) and rolled in coconut flakes. Lastly, onde-onde is simply fried dough
filled with mashed soybeans. Notice all the coconut? It tastes delicious, but
also explains why I gained about five pounds during just five days, trying all
these traditional snacks. This was also the second time that I’ve been told I
should become a nun since coming to Indonesia- and Suster Maria said they have
a convent in the U.S., too. We have plans to move there together and open up an
Indonesian restaurant ;) If I ever do get around to becoming a nun, anyways.</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivGtNnePg-W3gm-cBa2CiPyiKEQKvYK7yH11NMocIH9aAbaZoFkyz19wzn2om-_bQ6nwnjDEAUKzPhzkZWyZfaCngexTj9oTP1Z9fPNzcelns7EWhUYTuei1Hn69VB5eKUYsh1gXY43aw/s1600/P4150081.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivGtNnePg-W3gm-cBa2CiPyiKEQKvYK7yH11NMocIH9aAbaZoFkyz19wzn2om-_bQ6nwnjDEAUKzPhzkZWyZfaCngexTj9oTP1Z9fPNzcelns7EWhUYTuei1Hn69VB5eKUYsh1gXY43aw/s320/P4150081.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mento </td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRZ1NMEfKhdBW_T6ySCaFKY9WEq3KmOXDFId8UXDKA2GQRs5BkZh32UizxeeN0sxjuRrMGVf2VYfUpF0cR4LgNghkJfsHEveN0_i0mrC8X0NMClhF2P2tdvvyJjnYQ9G97IUa30ac2GSs/s1600/P4150083.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRZ1NMEfKhdBW_T6ySCaFKY9WEq3KmOXDFId8UXDKA2GQRs5BkZh32UizxeeN0sxjuRrMGVf2VYfUpF0cR4LgNghkJfsHEveN0_i0mrC8X0NMClhF2P2tdvvyJjnYQ9G97IUa30ac2GSs/s320/P4150083.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mento after being wrapped in the banana leaf</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZkRDfn2NkzQE2d20jID2u_k-TrZljzPQEeMobef2Q6h3HHy0ypFo7y_b_aLkxJLZftljddusjZlR-Vkv3suPzX8C-0yZ-02G1vg0pgsIfv6FaX44NTy35NR4GmNiCGm4xy8OUHanHwNg/s1600/P4160087.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZkRDfn2NkzQE2d20jID2u_k-TrZljzPQEeMobef2Q6h3HHy0ypFo7y_b_aLkxJLZftljddusjZlR-Vkv3suPzX8C-0yZ-02G1vg0pgsIfv6FaX44NTy35NR4GmNiCGm4xy8OUHanHwNg/s320/P4160087.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Talam Ubi<br />
<br />
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Onde-Onde</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDwxDpIeiLaLQFQs2Beltco81q7d_R8lE_4C_Cr1TqtztcuCqwth1mGNj1zKqQrS_lDbEBKYJqbqJZI9V3eBeFRZ1-rhUKNb9Vfdrk1J7k5akcM8rjnsReADl551Tv5rQFi9wtFePKQAM/s1600/P4180095.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDwxDpIeiLaLQFQs2Beltco81q7d_R8lE_4C_Cr1TqtztcuCqwth1mGNj1zKqQrS_lDbEBKYJqbqJZI9V3eBeFRZ1-rhUKNb9Vfdrk1J7k5akcM8rjnsReADl551Tv5rQFi9wtFePKQAM/s320/P4180095.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">All of my snacks for the weekend- the dadar gulung are the green wraps on the plate, moci is the white balls in the middle, then kelepon are on the far right. </td></tr>
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<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>The kue
lapis and moci visits were just to watch, but I hope to get back to the moci
place sometime to actually learn the process start to finish. Moci (pronounced
mo-chee) has a very odd texture, though I like it. It’s made from tepung ketan
(glutinous rice flour), sugar, and water all mixed together, and becomes
stretchy and sticky like raw dough. Traditionally the moci is rolled into
sheets, covered with chopped peanuts and then rolled and cut into bite size
pieces. This particular seller uses jelly, too, as filling (my favorite is
lemon). <o:p></o:p><br />
<br /></div>
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<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>So I’m glad
I put Indonesian cooking on my to-do list. It turned out to keep me quite busy,
as I hope to continue the visits/lessons in the coming month. For now, I think
I can check this one off the list. I hope the next item to be checked off will
be ‘learning to batik’, but I still have a bit to go before finishing that one.
Once I have a finished product, I’ll post about the whole process and such.
Going further on down the list, I know there are two items I’ll have to scratch
out, because I won’t be able to do them this year. The first is surfing- I’ve
mentioned before that the beaches around Yogya aren’t suitable for swimming,
let alone taking beginner’s surfing lessons, and I don’t think a trip to the
good surfing beaches is in the cards for me. The next is hiking up a
mountain/volcano. Ahhhh I wanted to do this so bad, and I’ve asked about it
multiple times but it seems like there’s no way to make it possible. The road
and trails up Merapi are still closed from the last eruption, which would have
been my go-to volcano, and it doesn’t seem like the Rotarians are crazy about
me going out trekking in the jungle outside of Yogya. Sigh. We’ll save this for
the return trip in a few years I suppose. <o:p></o:p></div>
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<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>There are
other items that will have to be scratched out as well; I think I had one about
visiting Aceh or some far away part of Indonesia that’s a long shot, and I’m
still holding out for a chance to go snorkeling or diving but who knows. I’ll
have to ask my parents to dig around at home for my list (it’s odd to think I
still have a bunch of stuff sitting on the other side of the world…), though
more likely I brought it with me here and lost it. Dia agak pelupa, my host
sister often says about me. I’m a little forgetful.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>I certainly
had some big dreams while writing my list. At the time I really had hoped to do all of those
things, but I feel like my exchange has still been more productive, rewarding,
and out of the ordinary than I ever expected, regardless of whether my To Do boxes
are all checked off or not. There’s so much more to a student exchange than the sum of individual activities or trips. I’d have to say I’m more proud of
becoming accustomed to using the bathroom here than getting to lay on the beach
in Bali- give me a bucket of water and a pail and I can shower in under ten minutes<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">.</i> Now that’s remarkable.</div>
<br />
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So I’ll keep on moving down my list of goals and quietly pass over the ones I now know to be unfeasible, impractical, or simply superficial, and I won’t feel any less fulfilled. I’ve
learned to thrive in a foreign country and that’s all I ever wanted. Tetap
sukses. Next June I’ll come home laden with incredible pictures, clothes, and an assortment of other new items that I've harvested throughout my year, yet it’ll
be the journey of learning that is the true treasure. (Because nothing builds character
like learning how to use a no-flush, in-ground toilet.) <o:p></o:p></div>
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Sampai jumpa!</div>
<!--EndFragment-->Andrea Willgohshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15350376515309619075noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5939675325842751098.post-44181418858208541022012-04-28T12:27:00.000+07:002013-11-29T10:30:17.868+07:00Bali<br />
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Just got back from Bali yesterday morning, and I figured if
I don’t get a blog up this weekend I never will, so here is the news!<o:p></o:p></div>
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The trip to
Bali was with the freshman class at SMKI (which happens every year). Bali is also called Pulau Mimpian or “Island
of Dreams”, and it was indeed very beautiful.<br />
I thought
the best part was all the Hindu temples- they are <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">everywhere.</i> The most common
temples are small and consist mainly of a shelf to place offerings; there are
many along the side of the road to give safe travels. Offerings are placed in small wicker baskets, and can
contain flowers, sweet bread, and other things. Offerings are supposed to be
given every day, and I only saw Balinese people doing this in the morning
(always in traditional dress) but I’m not sure if that’s a rule or just
routine.</div>
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<o:p></o:p></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1yUUo7rXnQtNtcGFQJRsE6Pgj_2MLRhPRdGRZHJ6ysL1empl7kDpxaxCjF6HS0ywqy03r58LLoSCG0ADG7j3JqNeSiUcNGQUzXb5gLh0QXY3kIH6ORCLqDXkYvEVF6xjEUO-L8Kx8v2s/s1600/P4230168.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1yUUo7rXnQtNtcGFQJRsE6Pgj_2MLRhPRdGRZHJ6ysL1empl7kDpxaxCjF6HS0ywqy03r58LLoSCG0ADG7j3JqNeSiUcNGQUzXb5gLh0QXY3kIH6ORCLqDXkYvEVF6xjEUO-L8Kx8v2s/s320/P4230168.JPG" height="320" width="240" /></a></div>
The temples in Balinese homes are even more remarkable. There are usually four or more temples built in the
yard or on the roof, and they have statues of various Hindu gods above the
offering shelves. The most stunning ones are topped with gold and sparkle wonderfully in the hot Balinese sun. Temples are generally wrapped
in a sacred cloth, either plain yellow or black and white checked. I was told that the black
and white symbolizes the daily presence of good and bad, but I'm not sure the meaning of the yellow.
Occasionally there will be tree trunks wrapped in black and white checks, and this is
where a new temple is going to be built. If there are regular unusual occurrences
(for example frequent recurring deaths) in a certain area, Hindus believe this
is because not enough offerings are being given to the gods, so they wrap the
cloth around the trees to make the place sacred and then build a temple there. <o:p></o:p></div>
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SMKI visited a notable temple during
the trip called Tanah Lot. Tourists weren’t allowed to walk up and enter the
actual temple, but could make flower offerings (for the price of few thousand
rupiah) either in a cave on the beach or in a cave on the temple island, though the
last one requires a short wade through the ocean. After tourists make an
offering, the temple-keepers (there is surely a special name for this, I don’t
know it though) stick some grains of white rice on the tourists’ foreheads and
put a flower behind their left ear. Perhaps this is just to entice people to
make offerings, but it still looks lovely. <o:p></o:p></div>
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Temple surrounded by ocean.</div>
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This is the entrance to the cave where tourists could make offerings for Tanah Lot.</div>
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Despite the thrills of touring, the main event of our trip was to
visit SMKI Bali and share performances there. Their school campus is gorgeous
and <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">clean,</i> even the outsides of
buildings, which is a rare occurrence in Indonesia. There is also an SMM (music
school), and SMSR (‘seni rupa’ it’s called; “looking arts”. Maybe there’s a
word for this in English but I don’t know what it is, or don’t remember.
Anyways, it’s a school for painting, graphic design, woodwork… Macam-macam,
many kinds).<br />
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The SMKI Bali karawitan performances were mesmerizing- you can see the drummer and first row of players on the left side of this picture- I simply love the dynamic quality of Balinese gamelan. Here is a two-man costume that was incredibly intricate and surprisingly life-like; the dancers inside were great at expressing the different moods of the character.</div>
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<br />
We also stopped at a traditional Balinese house that belonged to one of the SMKI Yogya teachers. There were around eighty students on the trip and we were <i>all</i> fed lunch here- a delicious (and fiery!) rice dish with salak for dessert.<br />
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And of course you can’t visit Bali
without going to the beach! We visited two: Tanjung Benua and Pantai Kuta. The
first was filled with mostly Asian tourists, and most everyone was there to go
parasailing or boating. I went out on a glass bottom boat ride with a few
friends where we fed bread to some small fish above a reef and then boated to a petting zoo on a small island offshore. <o:p></o:p></div>
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Tanjung Benua</div>
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The glass bottom boat with Bu Yati and some of my XT1 classmates.</div>
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On the way to the petting zoo, we passed a temple with its entry opening to the ocean.</div>
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A large bird and I at the island petting zoo...</div>
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Pantai Kuta was so different-
packed with tourists from around the world and almost everyone was surfing.
Don’t get me wrong, I enjoyed my time at the beach (even got a pretty good
farmers tan) but it made me want to be an American again so badly (figuratively
speaking). Good thing I didn’t bring a swimsuit with me or I may have been
overcome by temptation- I was incredibly jealous of everyone wearing bikinis,
swimming, and tanning… Sigh. But there will be time for that later. I sat in
the sand with my Indonesian buddies- they were wearing sweatshirts, sweaters,
long jeans, and hats to protect their skin from the sun- and we people- watched
for awhile. A few girls paid 10.000 rp to have their nails painted by an old
Indonesian lady working the beach, and a group of students played in the waves
(the teachers weren’t very happy about this, later the buses were full of sand
and smelly with all the damp clothing).
Overall, a nice visit. I’m excited to show off my not-as-snowy-white
skin when I go to school again <span style="font-family: Wingdings;">J</span><o:p></o:p></div>
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A quick note about bahasa Bali,
before I move on. Bali is a 45 minute ferry ride at most from Java, but
Javanese and Balinese sound nothing alike. If you take the Javanese alphabet HA
NA CA RA KA (pronounced ho no cho ro ko) and say it with a Balinese accent it
becomes huh nuh chuh ruh kuh but with an odd nasally sound, like when you say <i>u<span style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: white; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial;">ne</span></i> in French. Odd, no?
So for example when our tour guide would say Pantai Kuta it sounded like Kutuh.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Near the end of the trip, we visited a beautiful lake in central Bali. I have painstakingly racked my brain for the name of the lake, and even requested an itinerary sheet from the trip, but to no avail. We all stopped to eat lunch at a lakeside restaurant and then visited a nearby fruit and traditional Balinese snack market. I bought a
kilo of salak Bali (Balinese snakefruit- just found out it was called
‘snakefruit’ in English; I had never heard of it before) and a small carton of
teeny strawberries, grown just down the road.
All the students say salak Yogya is better because it’s sweeter, but I
like salak Bali because the first time I tried it, the taste reminded me of the
very tip of strawberries in Minnesota, a bit sour. Surprisingly enough, the
Balinese strawberries had no taste at all. So I’ll stick to salak from now on.</div>
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After mentioning the fruit market,
this also brings up another recent undertaking of mine in my Indonesian
exchange: haggling. Eeeeveryone haggles here, and I’m just starting to get the
hang of it, though more often than not I still pay more than the average
Indonesian. I find that, in general, people don’t want me around when they’re
haggling a price. If I do happen to tag along, they manage to make a deal so
quietly I always miss the selling price, and when I ask what price they settled
on I usually don’t get a response. At first this was frustrating- a big problem
for me is that prices are usually so cheap anyways (compared to the States) I don’t
haggle as low as I should, but I can never figure out what a good deal is
because everyone is so secretive when I’m around. And then after my purchase is done people ask me what I payed : <i>“Andrea! Tidak usah sampai harga itu!”</i>
everyone says, "You don’t have to pay such a high price! I got the same for… (always lower than what I paid)…" I did have a few successes while on the Bali
trip, thankfully. There was a theatre student who paid 8.000 rp for a carton of
strawberries which I got for 5.000 rp, and I managed to get the same price for
a souvenir at a large arts market as another student as well. Ha! So it is
possible, though surely difficult. The key is to not look rich and not look
foreign. Everyone started telling me I need to dye my hair black in order to blend
in, but somehow I don’t think that would help much…<o:p></o:p></div>
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We also visited Patung Garuda Wisnu Kencana- an unfinished park of statues that also holds Balinese dance performances for tourists. <o:p></o:p><br />
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This is an incomplete Balinese gamelan (or perhaps a different type of traditional music ensemble) that performed at the tourist shows in the park. We watched a phenomenal theater performance by a group of students from a school for the deaf. They were perfectly coordinated and very expressive; it was a treat to watch. At the end, there was a female Balinese dancer in traditional garb that would dance and invite different spectators to come on stage and dance with her. She was pleasantly surprised when an SMKI Yogya student walked onstage and began dancing tari Bali with her! I suspect that they rarely get audience members that are able to dance traditional Balinese-style. </div>
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Looking back to when the Bali Rotary
Inbounds visited Yogya, I remember they said that the Balinese like three types of
food: really spicy, really sweet, and peanuts. I have yet to try the spicy and
the sweet, but peanuts are definitely a big hit there. Every souvenir shop sold
several different kinds but the most famous is kacang asin, which is said to
help women conceive and produce milk. I didn’t try any,
but asin means salty, so I’m
guessing it’s not far from, well, the average salted peanut. Things on my list
to try when I go back to Bali (and this is indeed going to happen, someday):
ayam betutu (Bu Yati said it is like opor, which means the chicken is boiled
in coconut milk but it’s very spicy) and babi guling (pork). It was odd to see signs advertising pig meat
at first- I’ve never seen a sign for pork in Java and whenever my host family
talks about it, they always bring it up in a whisper (because of the Muslim
majority). Anyways, I don’t know what <span style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: white; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial;">guling</span> means, but I hope it means ribs. Yum. <o:p></o:p></div>
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While on the subject of food, I’m
going to back track a ways and throw in the latest adventure: eels. Maybe baby
eels, since they were so small. This culinary opportunity came about when I
went to the restaurant Pecel Solo with a few Rotarians about a week ago. At first sight I knew
I wanted to try it. I thought it was snakes, but when I asked what it was “belut<span style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: white; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial;">” was the response</span> and Bu Clara clarified ‘a type of fish’ in English. I figured it meant eels.
Sadly, there was no taste, like the cow lung. I think this was the result of
the eels being so small to start with and then deep fried. <o:p></o:p><br />
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Pecel Solo</div>
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To wrap up, my lovely Balinese
experience is over, and now I’m back to my regular school schedule. We’ll see
what the next few weeks bring- final exams are coming up at the end of May so
my days at SMKI will most likely be business-only for the rest of my time here.
But can I really say that traditional Yogya dance classes are strictly
business? Every day here feels average, but when I take the time to stop and
think I’m always reminded of how luar biasa this experience is. Certainly out
of the ordinary <span style="font-family: Wingdings;">J</span><o:p></o:p></div>
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Hope to write again s<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">oon</i>, there’s still more I have to catch
you up on.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Sampai jumpa!<o:p></o:p></div>
Andrea Willgohshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15350376515309619075noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5939675325842751098.post-29661003000643968952012-02-11T12:25:00.006+07:002013-11-29T10:49:20.715+07:00Sudah Lama...<div style="text-align: center;">
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<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>It’s annoying how easily time slips by- it has already been over a month since I’ve last posted. We have a lot to catch up on, so let’s get right to business, starting with February.<br />
About a month ago, there was a large ceremony for the closing of Sekaten at Kraton. I think I mentioned before that there has been a carnival set up outside of Kraton called Pasar Malam. This fair has been going on for about the last month, and the final week is called Sekaten. The whole celebration is to commemorate the spread of Islam to Indonesia. There is a gamelan set that is kept in Kraton and brought out only during Sekaten- so it's only played during one week each year. Last Saturday afternoon I watched the last performance using the special gamelan set, then on Sunday watched the closing ceremony. This consisted of five large 'mountains' of fruit (like the the one at Bekakak, but much bigger) that were carried through the street that circles Pasar Malam then taken into the palace at Kraton. I was waiting outside the gates of Kraton, so by the time the mountains of fruit passed by, one was already completely finished (the pieces all given out to spectators). The majority of people that come to watch the closing of Sekaten are Javanese villagers who come with hope that they'll catch a piece fruit- not to eat, but to plant in their fields at home, to make the soil rich and fruitful.<br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre;"> As for the Chinese New Year, m</span>y performance for Imlek fell through but I did get to see a little bit of the celebration. There were several big paper dragons waved around by a crew of men in Chinese costumes, as well as furry dragon suits filled by two men each (these were more lifelike- flapping ears, eyes that blink, a working mouth) that you 'fed' a small envelope of money to give you good fortune for the coming year.<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span></div>
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Also at the end of February, the Rotary Club Yogyakarta Malioboro (I am hosted by Yogya Tugu) held an arisan with Tahun Naga as the theme, and all the Yogya inbounds performed a dance together. An arisan is like a small lottery where a group of people gets together and everyone contributes a set amount of money to make the ‘pot’. Then one of the group member’s names is randomly selected (pulled out of a hat or whatnot) and that person wins all the money. Arisans are quite common here, usually held once a month and attended by mostly old ladies as I’ve been told, but I have seen classes at SMKI hold arisans as well. The Yogya Malioboro club’s arisan is a bit out of the ordinary because it’s held once a year, has over 400 participants, and there is a raffle for gifts as well as the grand money prize. The raffle was preceded by an assortment of dancing and singing performances (including the inbounds) and a seven course dinner (definitely not your average arisan).</div>
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<o:p></o:p></div>
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For a recap of ordinary events here, in school we have finished the super slow tempo dances and moved onto ragam routines. Ragam means "style" and in dance is used to describe a combination of moves that are always done in the same order (same as a time step in tap or a do-si-do in square dancing). Usually one ragam consists of eight or sixteen counts. For example, one of the most basic combinations in Yogya style dance is called sabetan, or ngabet in Javanese, and it’s used in male dances (so tari gagah and tari alus) but there are different versions for each style of dance. The first count you bend your knees then shift your weight to your right leg. (This is why it is so much harder to learn Indonesian dance while counting in your head in English, because each count is often split into two parts: sa-tu, du-a, ti-ga, em-pat, etc and you can’t split up one, two, three…) The second count you shift weight to your left leg then lift your right foot (always lifting the leg straight out, then bending the knee once your foot is in the air), for the third count put your right foot down and lift the left leg (straight, then bend the knee) and this goes on for eight total counts, with specific hand and arm movements, too.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Most of the time a ragam will end with<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>both feet back on the ground, but not always. <o:p></o:p></div>
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Now that was the first part of sabetan described in English, but in all my dance classes at school the combinations are explained using Javanese. Mendet= bend at the knees/squat; gedruk= tap the ball of your foot on the ground directly behind your other foot; ngoyok kiri/kanan= shift weight to left/right; tekuk= bend your elbow; njimpit= pick up sampur; seblak= flick sampur; catok=wrap sampur around your hand; kipat= unwrap sampur (comes after catok); cul= let go of sampur… So there’s an expansive vocabulary for dance moves that I’ve been trying to learn. Generally the teachers yell out these terms as we’re dancing to remind the students of what to do. It’s taken awhile for me to connect the words with the right movements (since you’ve got hands and feet going at the same time) and I still have lots more to learn.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The hardest by far, though, is memorizing the ragam names. If you write down the first part of the tari srimpi pandelori routine, it looks like this:<o:p></o:p></div>
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Sembahan sila<o:p></o:p></div>
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Ndodok<o:p></o:p></div>
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Panggel ngregemudet<o:p></o:p></div>
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Janokung miling<o:p></o:p></div>
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Nduduh wuluh<o:p></o:p></div>
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Lampah sekar tawing<o:p></o:p></div>
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Pendapan cangkel<o:p></o:p></div>
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…<o:p></o:p></div>
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<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>So each of these names represents a set of eight or more counts (one ragam), but I admittedly don’t know where each ragam starts or ends in the dance. I’ve just memorized the series of individual movements. For tari putri, this method works well for me, but in my freshman tari alus class Pak Toro likes to yell out a progression of ragams (“sembahan sila jengkeng, impur jugag dua kali, gidrag, sabetan, kambeng dewa, tayungan tiga langkah, ombak banyu…) then put on the music and the class dances according to what he just said. This, I have trouble with. A week or two ago we had a tayungan test (which means you do a lot of ‘walking’ around, but the style of walking changes depending on what ragam the routine is based on) and each student drew the ragam they’d be tested on out of a hat. This was before I had started memorizing ragams- the piece of paper I drew had ‘kambeng’ written on it, but it might as well have been written in Arabic for how much meaning it had to me. I had absolutely no clue. So I used the first ragam I could think of (which was impur, not kambeng) and failed miserably (though I had a get out of jail free card since I’m the foreign kid). After that I decided I should start paying attention to the ragam names, at least for Pak Toro’s class. <o:p></o:p></div>
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Now that we’ve moved on to a routine designed specifically for teaching a bunch of different ragams (there’s got to be over a million, I swear) we’re learning about two or three new ragams a day. I have about three quarters of each freshman routine memorized so far (complete with the ragam names <span style="font-family: Wingdings; mso-ascii-font-family: Cambria; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-char-type: symbol; mso-hansi-font-family: Cambria; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-symbol-font-family: Wingdings;"><span style="mso-char-type: symbol; mso-symbol-font-family: Wingdings;">J</span></span>) but it gets tough for me towards the end when certain ragams combine the foot movements of one ragam with the arm/hand movements of another. I think my muscle memory works with all my limbs paired together because the mix-and-match ragams are hard for me to master. Hopefully I’ll have a mental breakthrough by the time we have our mid test.<o:p></o:p></div>
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As for sophomore dance classes, I think I’ll be having a final test in tari srimpi pandelori in the next week or two (all 35 minutes finished!) and I just had a sophomore tari alus test where we used fake bow and arrows as props. In gagah we’ve started learning a 25 minute routine (which is a total killer for tari gagah) where we use a shield and club, and there are four dancers depicting a fight, just like the previous tari putri and alus routines. Needless to say, I’m tired at the end of each day, but I’m really enjoying my lessons. <o:p></o:p></div>
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As is routine, my most recent interesting food find is sate keyong or snail kabobs. Delicious. Sate keyong can only be found in angkringans (tent-like food stalls set up at night on the side of the road, they usually have a wide variety of dishes, gorengan, and snacks to choose from) meaning you can’t order it in an actual restaurant. It’s made with a spicy sauce, and the texture reminds me of cooked oysters. I’d like to see what color it is (I imagine a swampy green), but there’s never good lighting at an angkringan so I have yet to find out. Quite the opposite of my odd food ventures, I had my first bowl of milk and cereal last week since coming to Indonesia. I may be trying my very best to become Javanese, but there’s still some American left in me- a nice bowl of corn flakes and milk sure does hit the spot. <o:p></o:p></div>
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Since I’ve last blogged, I’ve gotten the chance to see Borobodur temple and a closer look at Merapi. (If you remember, I visited Kaliurang, the Merapi area, with Rotex one of my first weeks in Yogya, but that was at night and we didn’t get to see the volcano). This Kaliurang visit was especially memorable because we got to go with the Bali inbounds, who came to tour Yogya for a few days. <o:p></o:p></div>
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<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Speaking of guests from Bali- one of the last weeks in February students from SMKI Bali came to visit their sister school in Yogya (there are eight SMKI’s throughout Indonesia I believe). There was a performance at pendopo with dance and karawitan in both Yogya and Bali style, and everyone got out of class to watch. It’s incredible how different the styles are. In general, I find that the gamelan music we dance to in class is muted and repetitive, the different sounds and instruments easily melt together (I actually nod off sometimes in class when I’m watching other kids testing- biar ngantuk, it makes me sleepy) but Balinese gamelan has just the opposite effect. There’s lots of <i>Clang-Clang</i> and C<i>heng-Cheng</i> sounds of metal mallets pounding on sarongs and the drum beat is so fast I don’t know how on Earth the dancers can make sense of it (assuming they follow the drum like Yogya style, but perhaps not). And it is Loud.</div>
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<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>When I first got here I was told Javanese dance is the most difficult of all Indonesian traditional dances, and once you learn this style everything else is easy. This came from an SMKI Yogya teacher so it could very well be biased, and after watching the Balinese dancers I’m not so sure I’d agree with that opinion. Balinese dance is much faster and uses eye movements as well as facial expressions which generally aren’t choreographed in Javanese dance. If I think adding head movements is hard, I’m sure eye movements and facial expressions would be a challenge to memorize as well. I’ve also never gotten the chance to study Balinese dance, so I suppose I’m not an accurate judge of which style is harder anyways. <o:p></o:p></div>
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Either way, I am Pumped to go to Bali and see more of the traditional arts there. I’ve heard it’s like another world in Bali- the culture and atmosphere is completely different than the rest of Indonesia, mostly due to the prevalence of Hinduism and large population of foreigners. But until then, I’ll try to keep you better updated on the happenings here in Yogya. I sure do wish time would slow down; I hope to savor these next few months like I’ll savor my first bowl of milk and cereal back in the States. <o:p></o:p></div>
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Sampai jumpa! </div>
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Andrea Willgohshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15350376515309619075noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5939675325842751098.post-18139027600353137722012-01-29T15:20:00.008+07:002012-01-29T17:39:39.465+07:00Terapi Ikan, Pantai, Tari Srimpi<div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbIkmcqwFhRQtcICK9xeO206XTPCX3BBD6PI3wErA66sl2BJNEk7HiBtSQqP7NYWiIWoPgux0eIccHj50jK3ZULziqp5m9ldsizDeqJn7gztiFF_ArxcasqtLhF0v5aRRx7o9gKb0ReZk/s1600/P1250705.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"></a><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>It feels like it's been forever since I've last blogged, though three weeks doesn't sound that long. Nothing extremely new or exciting has happened since my last post, but I'll fill you in on how life has been in the desa :) <div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>A few weekends ago I visited my host mother's family in Kulonprogo, which is a village about an hour west of Tamantirto. This was my first 'road trip' on a motorcycle, and was quite enjoyable even though it started to rain about half way there. Once in Kulonprogo we sat on the porch and chatted while eating fresh durian, then in the afternoon went out for some terapi ikan (fish therapy). At the terapi ikan place there were three small pools of minnow-sized fish where you could dip your legs, or hand/arms too if you wanted, and the fish would come and bite your skin. It hurt a bit more than I expected, so it was hard to resist the urge to jerk and twitch (which you weren't supposed to do- I think it stresses out the fish). After awhile I got used to the sensation and it felt more like a bad case of pins and needles for the next hour or so. I resorted to laying my feet flat on the bottom of the pool so that the fish couldn't get underneath and bite between my toes, which tickled a lot. Everyone said that terapi ikan is very healthy for you, but the following night no one in my host family could sleep well, so I'm not convinced yet. I suppose it was a pleasant experience- mostly because it's out of the ordinary for me- though I did start bleeding at one point because a group of fish kept going at a mosquito bite. I'd certainly do it again if I got the chance. No pain, no gain. </div><div><br /></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEju4hApwXPyzPzntqEAJYk4F64TvrjKwREFZEVhVzs4OqMkZDYNy-8-rIndjCW4zdVndxTrEvUZTokpDfEwGjdLQm9e1OzXLoPu-j7G3DbI5HNGv81qwpmhXt1J82qH-l3ZnWCW1pKrHsA/s400/P1070648.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5702969123751037682" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px; " /></span><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>Terapi ikan</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>There was also a Javanese holiday in January called Bekakak.<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#ff6666;"> </span>I went with my host father to Batu Gamping, where the main event was held, and the streets on the way there were packed with spectators and vendors. This holiday occurs once every year, and the date always changes because it is based on the Javanese calendar. The main event consists of a mock wedding; there are two dolls made of rice that represent the bride and groom, and each one has it's throat cut (the dolls are filled with a red sugar syrup to look like blood). The 'blood' is then collected in a bowl and someone drinks it<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#ff6666;"> </span>I think, though I didn't see that part. After the mock sacrifice the dolls were taken apart, along with a mountain of fruit that lead the procession, and the pieces thrown out to the crowd surrounding Batu Gamping. For the first time in awhile I was glad to be six inches taller than most everyone around me- I caught a banana, some green beans, chillies, and even a piece of the dolls (which was a big deal). Right after the ceremony ended it started to poor rain, so I returned home soaked and shivering but content with my winnings. </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjdn010rC6cxVNINXdnXE7jklEotx6u5g3a_I7_zaqU61T5Ogm0W8mRxmDuMDJ9JdtO4wQ9p3600UkQREMdvPMOe8oSYcZCdQerd71QXdb3uSBtWXOOdQbpBEQe7sMS_fHyvFOnzNoG4Q/s400/P1130656.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5702969139142405138" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px; " /></span><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>The 'wedding procession' on it's way to the sacrifice (where all the flags are in the very back of the picture). There was a marching band, soldiers on horseback, and of course a lot of spectators. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOiwD4awAXtnsz9Hp9pMb_I9SQpGzAhfiUQ0rhULIbbooBzbyLt7dswqMrlZVyystZEcwvdi_dnP1qX5IHiVjSbJat5zUZTexr9X1HGh2jyrK3z_l87NCSO6qpNUKxYOLNJFbWBG3lCPQ/s400/P1130654.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5702969127694285634" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px; " /></span><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>The fruit tower being carried up Batu Gamping.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>This past week at school we had Monday off because of the Chinese New Year, or Imlek as it's called here. My host family isn't Chinese so we didn't celebrate, but did take advantage of the holiday to take a trip to the beach. We went to Pantai Baru, and it was so windy that day that we technically weren't allowed to get close to the water because the waves were too high, but I did go get my feet wet before we left.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_Z-DQVlhwO2IsvOOONmCKwlVPnj-wjbVv7saG3oo6LyLP5Eab_e_-ogWQTU2St_TR4lNU2H_gG70ZNeAohraEZBErkC0ytTAoQ8iXEv1H_GgiknJVAgYgwZkgS6t7OrnFBbY8UsGTcCQ/s400/P1220692.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5702969146509100018" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px; " /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>The beaches around Yogya are generally dangerous, so swimming isn't allowed. You can't really tell from this picture, but all the beaches I've been to near Yogya are very steep, and so the water gets deep fast and it creates a nasty undertow. I don't mind not swimming at the beach- Indonesians don't use swimsuits and getting soaked and sandy with regular clothes on isn't that fun (especially if you have to hand wash them afterward)- so I'm content with just dipping my feet in and enjoying the view. </div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>Last Wednesday I left for my first real Rotary trip to Pangandaran, a beach area outside of Bandung. We went body rafting in Green Canyon (which was fun and so beautiful, though we weren't allowed to bring cameras), and visited Pantai Pangandaran and Pantai Batu Hiu. The trip went by fast; we all arrived late on Wednesday night and had to leave after lunch on Friday, but I still managed to get a little bit of a tan. </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbIkmcqwFhRQtcICK9xeO206XTPCX3BBD6PI3wErA66sl2BJNEk7HiBtSQqP7NYWiIWoPgux0eIccHj50jK3ZULziqp5m9ldsizDeqJn7gztiFF_ArxcasqtLhF0v5aRRx7o9gKb0ReZk/s400/P1250705.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5702969154770790818" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px; " /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; ">Thursday morning all the exchange students went to the beach to watch the sunrise (we technically missed it since no one wanted to wake up at 5 am). Still beautiful, though.</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#0000ee;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGLiHE8pEKrX8FVFx5HVV4vjmjtgabQgGpremqjgFgV_PfdIFGQloRVKun_T9HsfO0Y_6sAz8pcvDBEpId-jKXsLJucg7kY6kYZUFOOY_ki70-q7ofhd2pxp0IgQO5Wv6IrgCWwvTQiAI/s400/P1250703.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5702980789572512594" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px; " /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#0000ee;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); white-space: pre; "> </span>What I'm most proud of from the last three weeks is my progress at school. All of my classes now (except for sophomore tari gagah) are working on dances that use a painfully slow tempo. This is nice for tari alus and putri, which have smooth, graceful styles (it looks sophisticated and serious with the slow tempo, I like it) but makes a tough workout out of my freshman tari gagah lesson. You have to keep one leg and both your arms held out at a 90 degree angle (for correct tari gagah form), and if dancing to a normal tempo this isn't so bad because you often switch legs/switch positions, but when it's slowed way down and you have to hold each position for a long time, the six minute routine takes forever. All my muscles burn by the end. My favorite lesson is still tari putri. In my sophomore class we're learning tari srimpi, which uses four dancers. I've been able to memorize the routine so far, and we're about ten minutes in, but the complete dance is a half hour long. I'm excited to finish it all and see how I do</span>. We have our first mid-way test on this dance next Wednesday (everyone will wear a jarik and kebaya of the same color); I hope it goes well.<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); "> </span></div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); white-space: pre; "> </span>As for other upcoming events, there is an Imlek celebration led by one of the Rotarians from Yogya Tugu the first week of February. He asked me to perform, so I've been perfecting tari persembahan as well as practicing traditional Javanese singing for the event. I feel pretty good about the dance, but I'm nervous about the song. In America, the only singing I ever did was either in the shower or alone in my car, and so performing in front of a large crowd in Javanese is quite the step up for me. Needless to say, I'm intimidated. Ideally, traditional songs are supposed to sung in sort of a nasally, slippery way (similar to what Indian music sounds like to an American), and I have a long way to go before I can make my voice sound like that (if it's even possible). I've memorized all the words so far, so at least I have that going for me. I will certainly let you know how it goes- wish me luck. </div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>Now for my latest food update. This one was the most shocking so far in my time in Indonesia I think, mostly because I wasn't aware (similar to the fish brain before). I stopped at a small warung makan (small food shop) with my host father on the way home from school one day and we ordered tongseng, which is chopped up meat served in soy sauce with spices and cabbage (and rice; this should go without saying). It was okay, not my favorite, mostly because the cuts of meat aren't up to my picky American standard. Later that night I was sitting in the living room with my host family and Ibu Haryo asks me if I knew what type of tongseng I ate that afternoon. "Kambing?" I reply (goat?). Nope, she said: dog meat. I couldn't help it- I clapped a hand over my mouth and let out a squeal in English (Oh my gosh!). Just the other evening I was talking with my host father Pak Haryo about when he visited Japan, and I had asked "Don't they eat dog there? Did you try it?" and so this was a little twisted joke of his- no one told me that they eat dog in Indonesia, too. I decided I would eat it again if I had to; it's just meat. Everyone in my host family has eaten it before, and my host brother is pursuing a veterinary degree to take care of pets, so I figure it's okay. Whew, quite the surprise.</div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>That's about all that's been going on lately. I have a small confession to make before I sign off (it doesn't sound as bad as eating man's best friend though)- I took my first sack of clothes to the laundry shop next to my house last week. Over three kilos of laundry (washed and ironed) was 6900 rupiah- exactly 75 cents. Tempting, yes? I still wash all my underclothes myself, so I'm not losing the wholesome experience of domestic labor. Just gaining a longer afternoon nap :)</div><div><br /></div><div>That's all for now! Happy Chinese New Year! (And sometime in the next few weeks give your dog an extra treat for me, to help my conscience...) </div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); "><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span></span></div>Andrea Willgohshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15350376515309619075noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5939675325842751098.post-6488178550577249202012-01-06T16:31:00.004+07:002012-01-06T18:06:00.257+07:00Menari dan Cuci Baju!<div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>It certainly has been a while since I last posted (I apologize), and now I have a lot to catch you up on! On the 18th of December I changed host families- and what a big change it was. I now live in Tamantirto, a village that is actually not part of Yogyakarta but much closer to my school. I am living with Pak Haryo, the SMKI vice principle, and his family. <div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>To start off- the performance at Prambanan temple went really well, though the president of Indonesia didn't show. Bummer, but it was still a lot of fun. All the dancers met at school at 4 am that morning to get dressed and do make up for the show. The event at Prambanan started in the morning, but we didn't dance until around noon- and it was easy waiting in a closed tent for 4+ hours before performing. There were a few fans going, but it didn't help much when the afternoon sun came out.</div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"><br /></span></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilLgpapQ0XcrLQ3BxB4oeORk7ELW_ZwA_vU37PBhhrtoXB3BQYEf3rDEHqcNPx4vxVSyV3iwoybY17k8I1QXxSaQjNeQs0wrQZ5Stman-KcwvfWfg5cGOVnHGYGhymb74BqWOTAha0-3Y/s400/PC160358.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5694452399965980354" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px; " /></span><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre">Prambanan temple, from outside of the dancers tents. Hopefully I'll visit the temple for</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> real one day and get better pictures. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>After the performance at Prambanan, Christmas break started. Two whole weeks! I was pleasantly surprised- I had heard before that we would only get three days off for Christmas, which I thought was reasonable since most of the students at my school are Muslim. Even though there weren't any classes I still went to school every day to practice the persembahan dance with Bu Ratri. On the actual wedding day I had my hair sprayed black again (though there wasn't any teasing this time, so it was easier to wash out, thankfully) and danced to live gamelan music. I was very excited to use live music, but I ended up losing the drum rhythm half way through, which was a fairly big issue. I ended up facing the wrong direction for the rest of the dance, though I did get back on track with the gamelan after a bit (I think the drummer pulled a few tricks for me so I could catch up). It was quite obvious that I screwed up, but everyone was still happy I tried. I'm glad I didn't see the bride and groom sitting right behind me until after I danced or the mix up would have been much more distressing. I'm continuing my lessons with Bu Ratri as well, so I still have time to perfect my dance.</div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0FLiaAlVEVqfaLvuA3JaFu0Scd9uZhbc6F9NL57XXHF-EShlMo_BlYpRpBOAkiIJh_T__ZnfJxu2zps29PdQ2svT2TCMcg8N-sIkNnw6Z6V-tPrt6ccBYzzBfoPXpQTGQvhi6oqXlLnw/s400/PC280606.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5694452393462243890" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px; " /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; ">Me dancing at the wedding. I could tell you several things that are wrong with my form in this picture, but I'll refrain :)</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNRd7-ANaM-vr7lRnik2VEVLDpY3x5OTad1WssJJvtg1MqMqhp6N8-P-AHzdtj5qfCdcOnKfFMZD9BStu6woHgcWzCgPFf_o3FMhSoePAWWPttw5QXIEeBnQew0XftIYCzyxglHFkp9SA/s400/PC280610.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5694463249840151522" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px; " /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;">Ibu Ratri and I</div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>Spending the holidays in Indonesia wasn't as difficult as I expected- my host family and I stayed busy with church events (in addition to the dance lessons). My host mother and sister help lead the church choir so there were several evening practices, and then three days of Christmas celebration. We didn't have a Christmas tree, special foods, or presents, but I still felt holiday spirit singing Silent Night and Come All Ye Faithful in Indonesian.</div><div><br /></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEji2m4CfQsIkJXpZtJWa-aiS5e4EvB6MjDtBTIhGCz8xweCApng8tiTXCd3V4g161Y7Q1awaNXPvpM3d4FI-m3MMEum8lebQMhlP6Evw5MU938QDyS_s-K2foVnf-64unBaBSZSWKfAiG0/s400/PC240367.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5694452428092815346" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px; " /></span><div style="text-align: center;">Christmas Day morning mass at the 'big' church in Madukismo. The teenagers in the white chairs were all baptized that day, which is why they were in traditional Javanese clothes. Christmas Eve mass was at the smaller church close to home. About fifty people attended, and the church room was filled as well as the front porch area outside. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1uSUbtf6pgHngogNxkSVZNaV6Jytod3j6B6k8inUYsLnyQj5kHhJwtgi7p6hLq2bAbOHqMXt7deadckd6ooHXeuQDqBNfZPQ5nDt8vDA11_zHZ2zKmrwLOsc4UHQX1wPxrOcohebwnFc/s400/PC240424.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5694452417036001410" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px; " /></span><div style="text-align: center;">My new host family and I on Christmas Day</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>Not including the holidays, regular life in a village has been much different than with my first host family. There is no shower here, just one wash room (which consists of a non flush toilet and a big basin of water), and no hot water as well. This sounds awful, but isn't a big deal- I almost always wake up sweaty since it's so warm here, so a cold "shower" is quite refreshing. The real kicker is no air conditioning.. But I'm happy here, so I'm not going to complain :) My host family doesn't have a washing machine either (or a maid), so I've learned to hand wash all my clothes (and do so almost every day). The three days of Christmas celebration I didn't do any washing though, which ended up being an awful gift to give myself for the holidays- I had a mountain of dirty clothes to attend to. My arms and hamstrings were sore for awhile after that one..</div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5s3tV1Y3wXO6qnXO04-hcSFmxb2QFGXyePYjY8tBCH4Lt9Sr-7s9CrH_wFtN5o1M9um88om3lWKDmMSr9H3iO4XRSpNzign8NRJdVux0MeXcWqZno6bbZuk-s-6MZ4KeCPeztCAM-EiY/s400/PC220362.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5694452406522520882" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px; " /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; ">My first time hand washing! I remember thinking of the song "Whistle While You Work" from the Snow White, and thinking there's no way the forest animals were that happy washing someone else's clothes. I employ a new definition for the word 'dirty' now. </span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>There also isn't a car at home, so I ride a motorcycle everywhere. This is a bummer when it rains, but for the most part awesome :) The biggest difference with living in a desa (village) is that everyone uses bahasa Jawa. This is good, because I'll get to learn the language faster, but also a little frustrating because I'm back to not knowing what people are saying. The toughest part for me is having to learn two different levels, ngoko (for people your own age) and krama (for speaking to people older than you). Its hard for me to remember to use a different level than is being spoken to me. For example- if my host mother asks me "Uwis maem durung?" (Sudah makan belum? in Indonesian, Have you eaten already? in English) I should reply using bahasa Jawa krama "Sampun" (yes, already) or "Dereng" (not yet), but it's still hard for me to remember to switch to using krama rather than replying "uwis" or "durung" (already and not yet, in ngoko). It's also frustrating that the two levels can be so different. Even numbers are different; in ngoko: 1 siji 2 loro 3 telu 4 papat 5 lima, but in krama: 1 setunggal 2 kalih 3 tiga 4 sekawan 5 gangsal. I have a lot to learn- bahasa Jawa, dance, karawitan... It's time to call up my Rotary club and ask for an extension.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>Despite the new challenges I am very content in my new life in desa Tamantirto. I stay busy at home (with washing dishes, clothes, and helping cook meals) and now that I have almost completed my first week of semester two at SMKI, there are more dance classes in my schedule, too. I find that it's increasingly hard to remember to blog now that I'm really enjoying my new life here. Perhaps it's because I don't think of home so much. No offense. So I hope to keep you updated as best as I can. There's so much more to learn and share! Sampai jumpa!</div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><br /></span></div>Andrea Willgohshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15350376515309619075noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5939675325842751098.post-72348720535413329002011-12-11T14:36:00.011+07:002011-12-14T15:37:37.840+07:00Sable!<div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>Oh man, how time is slipping by.. I can't believe my last post was three weeks ago! </span></div></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre;">The good </span>news is that I've been busy again. The last two weeks at SMKI were semester exams, most of which I didn't have to take, so I had quite a bit of free time. I did participate in three dancing exams with my basic dance class, though- tari gagah, alus, and putri. I didn't know that I was supposed to take part in ulangan umum until the second week of exams, so my American high school cramming skills came in handy- I didn't get to practice until the morning of each test. I'd go through the routine with my classmates before the period started, and since I was always the last on the list I could sit and watch the others dance and memorize the progression then, too. This worked out pretty well- I'm surprised that I was able to finish each routine.<div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>So as far as semester exams go, I've had two relaxing weeks at school. On the days that I wasn't scheduled for a test, I hung around and watched the other class's exams. I mostly watched dancing tests, but there were also exams in choreography, karawitan, pantomiming and face painting (part of the traditional dress and make up class) which were fun to see. At first I was wishing my semester exams at Northfield had been like this- but after seeing how detailed a student painted the fish scales on his face, I'm pretty sure I would have a lot harder time passing these tests than the theory ones at NHS.</div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>The busy part of the last two weeks have been the extra practices for all the dance students at SMKI. There is a performance at Prambanan Temple on December 19th that everyone is preparing for (including me!), and I've heard that the president of Indonesia will be there watching. So practices are very important- the school has even been giving out free lunches as extra incentive for students to attend- and they last for about two hours or more after exams are finished. This is the tiring part, but of course fun as well. The other Yogya inbounds who are going to public schools get the whole month of December off (because they don't have to attend semester exams, and then there two weeks of Christmas break), but I rather enjoy hanging out and dancing with my friends. Really, going to school at SMKI doesn't compare to any other school. </div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> Plus, I have an extra dance lesson every day to attend! This is</span> a classic example of the general confusion that comes from not knowing the native language very well. In one of my very first weeks of school at SMKI, a teacher (Pak Totok) came up and talked to me and I really had no clue what he was saying- something about his son. I thought he was inviting me over to his house to meet his son sometime, so I employed the usual 'smile and say yes'. A few weeks later he came and talked to me again- this time I heard that his son was getting married in December and would I like to come? Why, yes of course! Now that December has finally arrived I've figured out that Pak Totok has actually been asking me <i>to dance</i> at his son's wedding, which will be held at the pendopo at SMKI at the end of the month- so now I'm taking lessons every day with a tari putri teacher Bu Ratri in order to prepare. Wow, what a surprise. There are other SMKI students performing at the wedding as well (but I'll be dancing alone) and I am very excited. My dance is pretty easy as far as traditional Javanese dances go- it's only a few minutes long (I think some parts have been simplified for me, too)- and it's a welcoming dance, so I have a plate full of flowers that I get to throw in the air throughout the dance.</div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>The best part about this is that I made a goal of learning at least one full traditional dance routine during my exchange year (one that I can remember and perform by myself), and I can already check tari putri off my list! Yes, it's a short, simple dance, but it feels like I'm making some progress. One thing I've learned from my lessons with Bu Ratri so far- if my body position ever feels comfortable, then I'm doing the dance wrong. Even after almost three months of school, I'm still not flexible in the right places... Hopefully I can't get the techniques down within the next two weeks.</div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>In addition to my new dance, I've been trying to tackle a little bit of bahasa Jawa lately, though with a much lower success rate. Yesterday one of my theatre friends, Vian, was quizzing me on my Javanese vocabulary: bibir (lips) = lambe, mata (eye) = moto, hidung (nose).. I started out saying "ang-" and everyone around me cracked up. Through their pantomiming (they were too busy laughing to explain in Indonesian) I figured out that the word for "booger" starts with ang- and the word for nose is something completely different. Sigh. </div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> As a follow-up to the plans</span> I mentioned in my last post- Pauline (IB from Belgium) and I finally made cookies! They're called sable, which is French, and Pauline says she makes them all the time in Belgium. It turns out that it wasn't too hard to find real butter, but it was more of a challenge to find white sugar- the sugar used here is unrefined, so it's coarse, brown, and not good for baking sable. After awhile of searching, we were able to find a fairly close match- and the cookies turned out pretty well, too. Pauline recently changed host families, so we took advantage of their functional oven within the first few days of her moving there. </div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiORnX9TYcZ8fRCUa9K0S-IOLDZW2GNW1QYCz6eCqMDiGjrwjH0dgp2Qt7Vz3voeoGOLGP6P6zWmEDkUC87HHgMdOhOb4PK82KDFEIvwOE99pNkTtPmeMYlvFABgWq9sKEARJJVJxIIdf8/s400/PC040336.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5685554214012818082" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px; " /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;">Sable!</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdpI4wRoSbv1HzO4HzBfYAg9TOY9lTEKjYUTQAZNgxyfU0P8d1tl59ZHe4HnnqYlQvp_uQa31lYf2tHP2eUaRDYcg6vMnBP3Ef5dIw3qRcKN1ktRXTnqhFgMRqBglO2qCcYtQwYGYJoss/s400/PC040339.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5685554229936535650" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px; " /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; ">The long-awaited oven</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNQYHlRBM67D7PA7XauiapavtXjTn9nz4Ofmc2p0IFOo8VIGhI5m5ltVqFCiXCkPe_rOkG79gBxfYI1BdJveMOEvFFdGBshsdEhQM57M5rTUMHW_lTib_KL-rd3wWL4bxiTqqeXWlS7Pc/s400/PC070349.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5685554210829062178" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px; " /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; ">This is my newest fruit find- rambutan. The word 'rambut' in Indonesian means 'hair', so the name is very fitting. In order to eat, you split open the skin and inside is like a big peeled grape with a pit in the middle. It's very sweet, and there are rambutan trees all over the place here.</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); white-space: pre; "> </span>I spent this past weekend at the home of a Yogya Tugu Rotaractor, Mas Ronny. We had a busy weekend, but my first highlight was getting my palm read at Malioboro. The palm-reader was an elderly man who only spoke Javanese, so Ronny translated what he said first to Indonesian, then to English for everyone. To start, the palm-reader explained that he must first look at seven points on my body (he pointed to my neck, my forearms, and my knees, but I don't know what the other ones were) but that he can only interpret a few of them, and that the prediction isn't from him, but straight from God. Then he asked what I wanted to know about my future- I was stuck for a little bit. Of all the things that are ahead of me, what should I ask? I decided to ask about my future husband, cliche yes, but the most entertaining I think. The palm-reader said that my husband would be rich, that he likes to travel, and that his career will have something to do with the Air Force. </span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRTfkX7IP7Hdvfjcv7Rg1uFXbFulTaerLA4ZEqV7i74DyzpPO4qwq6BLK37XHF1AdG4ThjqtD8Q_IiAWpT8OA7hXE2irqiwy9q4fDyRmdMQRu8Vb1KEfmsPwIyhEdH7ckL5cQurEzTNUE/s400/329263_2874400666292_1448200436_33277851_1375440252_o.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5685561428280432738" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 266px; " /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; ">Me getting my palm read, and Mas Ronny explaining.</span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><br /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; ">A quick side note, because I don't think I've explained this yet- in Indonesia it is common to use words equivalent to Mr., Mrs., Ms., in English in front of people's names, even if you are close friends. So when talking about adults you use the identifiers Bapak for men or Ibu for women (shortened to Pak and Bu), and for people who are younger (or less than 10 years older than you, if you're a kid/teenager) you use Mas or Mba. I'm still trying to get the pronunciation of Mba right- it's important that there's a clear "m" sound, but you can't hold on to the "m" to long or it's wrong. Sulit. Difficult.</span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> After getting my palm read, </span>Mas Ronny, the other Rotaractors and I walked to Pasar Malam ("Night Market" in English), which was a carnival in the park near Kraton. I used to think that the Zipper at Jesse James Days was the scariest ride in the world because it looked like it would bust apart at any given moment- but perhaps that opinion has changed now that I've been to Pasar Malam. I went on a ride similar to a kid's ride in the U.S. where you sit in a big 'boat' and swing back and forth, fairly high into the air, but this time there were no seat belts. It looks simple, but it sure is odd to feel your stomach drop at the top of the swing and there's nothing holding you to your seat but your own hands. </div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzJtma5QmRcA4736BNojI9rID9z1DPFjHCx74wXIaI5MFP2st3w1sOsxEJY12nT4oJMRSooopOMyNs4X8qbO51yaHH11_8tv1LX2bpQW3v2WznGp-nkP9t0YX1NeBSX2fdqpJmh-CsF9g/s400/PC100355.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5685554242349062418" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px; " /></span><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#0000ee;"> </span>Then o</span>n Sunday, after church, the Rotaractors and I went fishing. They took me to a restaurant where you can fish in man-made ponds and then directly grill or fry whatever you catch for lunch. It seems like a great idea, but more difficult than it sounds. The poles for rent didn't have reels on them- just a section of PVC pipe to wrap the fishing line around- and my fishing wire was kinked and knotted in several places, so I would cast out about two feet of line until something would catch, and that's about how far my bobber ever got from shore. There were other people at the restaurant who brought their own fishing equiptment and a kind of bread-dough bait (we were using worms), and so the Rotaractors and I watched as they would each haul a bag of four or five big fish to the kitchen for lunch. After about two hours our pack of worms was finished, and we had caught three fish that were well suited for Ronny's aquarium at home. Needless to say, we bought normal entrees for lunch. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#0000ee;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8Z0twUNy5yn-RIHDqbyovXujx50pB9PZI6uuqJ80SB88RbOFl9lgu3ZQKJhgXW6EUWZ0NmrFgdyJqprbYKSWi-HSOK3o7s5LF-wtNO3vydQZPCTAynsoQo21-JPRKm8Cb2h140SYJ4aY/s400/PC100353.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5685569870927914402" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px; " /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;">My one and only catch of the day.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre; "> </span>We just finished learning the routine for the performance at Prambanan today at school, so we're going to start practicing at the temple on Friday. It's hard to believe the performance will be on Monday- it feels like we've only just started practicing. Then about a week after that is the wedding! How time flies when you're an exchange student. And as for the upcoming holidays, I think I'll have enough on my mind that I can blow past my usual white Christmas without too much difficulty. Fingers crossed. It will be interesting to see how people celebrate here with Christianity being a minority- I've already seen a few stores at the mall with decorations, but I'll keep you posted on how things are at home. Until then- I hope everyone back home is enjoying the snow (and the shoveling, and scraping the ice off your windshield every morning).. It was about 100 degrees and sunny all day today. I'm working on getting my holiday tan :)</div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#0000ee;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><br /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#0000ee;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><br /></span></span></div>Andrea Willgohshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15350376515309619075noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5939675325842751098.post-90149801554240816972011-11-17T15:24:00.007+07:002015-01-06T03:50:11.658+07:00Ulangan Umum, Karawitan, dan Bakti Sosial<div style="text-align: center;">
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<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>My first two weeks back in my normal schedule (after all the excitement of Karnaval) have been good ones. However, there wasn't much time to relax- semester exams are starting, which means all the students at SMKI are practicing and studying extra hard. The semester dance tests are done one by one (so far this year they've all been group tests), which is what I'm most worried about. All the other students are very serious about semester exams, but I am still not able to perform an entire routine. It's more apparent than ever how much I have to catch up on. <br />
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<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>After school on Monday I had a karawitan lesson with Pak Haryo, the SMKI vice principle. It was very interesting, but like my dance classes, also left me feeling intimidated by everything I still have to learn about gamelan. I found out there are two different scales in gamelan- slendro and pelog. So, there are actually two kinds of each instrument in the gamelan set, one for playing slendro, and the other for peloq. So far I have been practicing on the bonang, which is the low coffee table instrument with the acorn pots all in a row, suspended by strings. The slendro bonang is easier to play, because it only has two rows of 6 pots, while the pelog bonang has two rows of 7 pots.</div>
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An example of the sheet music we use in school looks like this:</div>
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Ketawang Madumurti Laras Pelog Pathet Barang </div>
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Umpak</div>
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7 5 6 7 3 5 3 2 </div>
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5 3 2 7 3 2 7 6 </div>
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Ngelik </div>
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7 7 . 7 6 6 7 2 </div>
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6 7 2 3 6 5 3 2 </div>
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6 7 3 2 6 3 2 7 </div>
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5 5 6 5 7 6 5 3 </div>
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6 7 3 2 6 3 2 7 </div>
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3 5 3 2 3 7 5 6 </div>
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<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Each number is a different note (pelog uses 7, or 'pi' in Javanese, while slendro only goes until 6 'nem') and with the bonang you play each set of two notes twice (like above would go- 7575 6767, etc). There are different variations for the bonang, too, where you play different notes whenever there are certain pairs grouped together. I also newly learned that there are two tempos for the bonang. Irama I (tempo I) is played like I just described above, but in Irama II the pattern is syncopated and you play each pair of notes four times, instead of two. Irama II is used during the singing sections of the song, so it is much slower than the first tempo and the sarongs play quietly (otherwise the sarongs are usually the dominant sound). What I find most interesting is the role of the drum in gamelan. In order to switch the whole gamelan from playing Irama I to Irama II, there is a certain drum sequence (that everyone is supposed to recognize- I still can't think about the drum sounds and my own sounds at the same time, though) which signals everyone to switch. </div>
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<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>As I have learned so far in class, there are four different sounds when playing the drums. These are pronounced tak, ket, thung, and dhang. I haven't tackled playing this instrument yet, but I hope to learn sometime during my exchange because it seems like useful knowledge. Whenever there are dance sequences which are difficult to time with the music (like head and arm movements) the teachers and students at SMKI always recite the drum sounds- ket tak ket tak ket thung dhang (this is the only sequence I can remember, from my tari gagah routine)- to help the dancers get it right. And the drum leads the gamelan ensemble, too, so it would be a good skill for me to learn. </div>
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<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>My poor attempts at explaining gamelan certainly don't do it justice- you have to hear it in order to appreciate the complexity, I think. However impossible it seems that I'll ever understand it all, I'm still enjoying my gamelan lessons immensely. There's always something new to learn! Another addition to my to-do list here: bahasa Jawa. I've come to realize that no one uses straight Indonesian except when they are talking with me- otherwise it's a mix of Javanese and Indonesian. Frustrating. I feel like I'm almost getting the hang of the language here, but now there's a whole other language to learn, and I don't even have a head start. <span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Javanese is much more difficult than Indonesian. There are three different levels (each has a different vocabulary), and the level you speak depends on the age of the person you're talking to (if you are speaking with your parents or another elder, you use a higher level than if you were speaking to your friends or someone younger than you). Lately in my bahasa Jawa class we've been singing songs in Jawa kromo (the highest level in Javanese). I asked a few times what the translation to Indonesian was, but everyone said that it was "odd language" and they didn't know. Apparently, only the first level of Javanese is used on a daily basis (according to my bahasa Indonesia teacher) and many don't know the upper levels. It seems odd that students are required to memorize lyrics/words that they don't know the meaning of- but I guess it's a means of keeping Jawa kromo alive. I was speaking with the husband of a Yogya Tugu Rotarian earlier today, and he said that one year is not enough to learn Javanese (crap...), and that if a foreigner wants to really learn it they should live in a rural village where Javanese is used almost exclusively, as opposed to in the city. </div>
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<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Today I spent a little bit of time in a village outside of Yogya (and indeed, after I introduced myself I was almost always asked "Sudah bisa bahasa Jawa?" Can you speak Javanese? "Belum." Not yet...) There was a social service event put on by the Yogya Tugu Rotaractors, where they donated goods to a village in need, and I was allowed to tag along. </div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline;">We started off the day by packing plastic bags with rice, noodles, cooking oil, towels, and undergarments. There were over 150 bags when we finished (and the towels all had the Gucci monogram on them. Fake brand name products are popular here). Then we packed everything in two vans and took an hour and a half drive outside of Yogya.</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="color: #0000ee; white-space: pre;"> </span> At the village we set up a clinic in one of the buildings where three volunteer doctors performed basic check-ups for anyone who wanted one (it ended up being over 200 people), and there was also a huge assortment of medications (supplied by Yogya Tugu Rotary club) which were distributed accordingly to villagers in need. </div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre;"> There was also a used clothing sale going on at the same time as the clinic- each article </span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline;">This is an unrelated picture- but I just figured out (after three months of living here) that I can see the Merapi volcano from the front of my house. About a year ago, Merapi erupted and the maid told me it 'rained gray' all over the neighborhood from the ashes.</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>There hasn't been much going on the past two weeks, but time is still flying by (the reason why I haven't posted a blog entry in awhile). It's almost December already! Hard to believe. The other Yogya inbounds and I have plans to make Christmas cookies near the end of next month, but we have yet to find an oven (all of our host families have them, but none are in working condition) and real butter to bake with. Until then, I plan on buckling down in school and trying to make some progress on everything that I have to learn here- dance, karawitan, bahasa Jawa, dan lain-lain. Semoga sukses. Lastly, a belated tribute to the recent American holdiay: I am very thankful to be here, in Indonesia, and thankful that I get to attend SMKI. Cultural exchanges aren't always a walk in the park, but I feel incredibly lucky that I'm able to take part in this challenge. </span>I never thought I'd be learning so much! <span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline;">I am anxious to see what the next 8 months will bring, and hopefully I won't forget to blog :) </span> Selamat hari berterima kasih! Happy Thanksgiving everyone!</div>
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Andrea Willgohshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15350376515309619075noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5939675325842751098.post-63937980310081676822011-11-07T16:28:00.013+07:002011-11-11T12:25:21.166+07:00Idul Adha, Masakan, lalu Karnaval!<div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>This past weekend many Indonesians celebrated Idul Adha, a Muslim holiday where an animal is sacrificed (usually a cow, sheep, or goat). After I got out of church, my host father Pak Handono took me to his office where some of his coworkers prepared a goat for sacrifice. We arrived a little late- I didn't get to see them cut off the head, which I was bummed about- but I did see the beginning of the skinning process. </span><span class="Apple-style-span">Idul Adha, as I was told, is based on the Muslim tradition that more fortunate families sacrifice an animal once a year and share the meat with the poor. The animal has to be male and also cannot be deformed or sick. Pak Handono also said that before the animal's throat is cut, everyone says the equivalent of "Allah mahabesar", which means "glory of God". My host family is Catholic, obviously, so I didn't get to learn much else about Idul Adha, but I'm glad I was able to see a bit of the sacrificial process. We had to leave the office fairly quickly to go make rice for lunch, but the goat meat was all made into sate (a traditional Indonesian food, like small meat kabobs). The sate part isn't important to Idul Adha; just a personal preference for how to prepare the meat.</span></div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4SbmKh10HGdYMbm0ciwzAe9i-l4v4DIK81sQUv5CKwHjU-plH36NTnsdi5bJkqDOFM0tPhn2zcEVnW4yGvxFcb1GEUPXGKpfHAwez2gLatQ5NbpA7MiTgwBNQShi1QALGe0ukLPhs8ZM/s400/PB050147.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5673561490346683314" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px; " /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSs7gYIavmUoN84FiYYmyoDCPE5Whd5-AeVJ4mpvRNn_EinLjuY6AN-Mvs97LutHB6HMEhYfmPa689WBxzJs2vSbYf6ZorrpC8GsA3MAexZnBWVl18zYDC_LQXJ2-hzENTSAGjnNGtF0g/s400/PB050151.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5673589602462549266" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px; " /></span></div><div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#0000ee;"><br /></span></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimUoLXDoPGzykQw8y1V2Kb2maMDvHn3znZRRG6l9J1GB3wBsfIC3NJOM_ZkfLA5sutrk92LT11Qt8YAtcctPjANvs9xWl9w-ztUeE6pd-wxo02VxikiaMezgZTYLkeGVgSAuQnsCwfnUg/s400/PB070188.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5673561474891102706" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px; " /></span><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre">The leftover goat sate- we grilled it in the backyard Sunday night for dinner. Delicious.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>While on the subject of meat, I should share my latest culinary adventure- cow lung. Is that considered meat? I finally got to eat at a masakan padang restaurant Sunday evening. I've seen these types of restaurants all over (they always have dishes stacked in the front window for display), and I was told that the food is very spicy (which is why I was anxious to try it). Now that I've been to a padang restaurant I think the title refers to the style of dining rather than the extra-spiciness of the food, though. Instead of getting a menu, the waiters just place a bunch of dishes on the table, each with a different type of food, and you can choose what you want to eat. I suppose it's like a buffet where you don't have to leave your seat. The plates were small- only about two servings to each one- and you only pay for the ones that you try. And of course there are big bowls of white rice to accompany your meal. I spotted the cow lung because it had a lot of chili peppers on top of it, and once I knew what it was I couldn't pass up the opportunity to try it. It looked like a mushroom- black and somewhat shriveled. I picked up my spoon to try and cut off a piece, but turns out the whole thing was stiff. Like a piece of bark. Relief came when I saw my host bother using his hands to eat, so I followed suit and picked up the lung to take a bite. It was like a Triscuit cracker- very hard and fibrous- and didn't taste like much except greasy from being fried. I was surprised that there was a grain to it- like beef jerky- so that when you bit down it would only come off in strips. Overall, a bit of a letdown for as odd as it sounded.<span class="Apple-style-span"><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span> There was fish brain there, too, which I wanted to try so bad, but I was too full. I have accidentally eaten fish brain before (this was before I knew "kepala" meant "head"- I ordered snapper head soup at a restaurant) and it doesn't taste bad at all, but I stopped eating once I figured out what it was. I guess it was the whole experience of thinking casually <i>I wonder what I'm eating right now, this looks a little odd...</i> and then figuring out that's a fish skull in my bowl and I'm eating its brain, that freaked me out and I couldn't take another bite. I'm still waiting for a chance to redeem myself and eat brain like an adult.</div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>On Tuesday, I came home from school smelling like a barbeque. All lessons were cancelled at SMKI and there was a cooking competition between the classes instead. I cooked with students from XT3, my basic dancing class, and we made bakso (Indonesian meatballs), sate, meat that was breaded and fried, green beans, carrots, and french fries. We lucked out with perfect cooking weather, too. The sun was out all morning, which is a rare occurrence since the rainy season has started, and there was a slight breeze to keep cool. It was a nice, relaxing day. </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjU3PEIEbpLlbdOn0c3-wWDTKHxIWQobBduVz6ERllxJTUVVjzHlCZHvmvtKTWg-dAaXV8D_ILJIIRtZhgv-Wp2CKKb5PBtF5XuBKcFxbp6G9tIqCEZlRUaT7fWZlsM3VY7dyDUX6WTPj0/s400/PB070226.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5672571886698991394" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px; " /></span><div><div style="text-align: center;">The clay cooking pots everyone used. Here, we're boiling water for the vegetables.</div><span class="Apple-style-span"><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span></div></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4iZaag89siUnBmccyDBSSmuSW5uw93UyTuEwihGgtQ6Jbm9T4YDNAbhmujA-GgOJpfDcfsTD7lHbx3lSiowinBuPs9a9VXxSrBPl85CWFa79LaZq7PparbWnJM2qA1pR_HoHemUEhU4c/s400/PB070237.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5672571888969285538" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px; " /></span><span class="Apple-style-span"><div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"><br /></span></div></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre">French fries- made from real potato chunks.</span></div></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre; "> </span><span class="Apple-style-span"></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjttCZarxBzRIN9t16UZIYbJJ7gXB9cx7tJe1kVEORcU1gsiFmgH7ChxdonKCDGEgJvkXfDkHJFMycV22T2ByShPOboHjxw93iqA6azcsKo__KdvhdBtSP_pZVl3YrYUvGy7XevLdIwcZo/s400/PB070232.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5672571922566476338" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px; " /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; ">Class XT3, who I take most of my dance classes with.</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjm5Ep8DSjKWKTskAP7OWQDa_akhNySL4TNGb_tKSyz7-NF6GcA4rT9CaKI8ICUMyEJlV3pFHqiRhmLvyyYzazpobT6aszS4B3h8m0or2dkS5LKRV4lLPfTN90D3A9YekWLm7xsF7N_KSs/s400/PB070238.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5672571894380123090" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px; " /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><br /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;">Cooking sate (pronounced sah-tay)</div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#0000ee;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#0000ee;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#0000ee;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7l0zuwfAhz8EYnee5YjK5nSp59zDzWNUb1qB1Q8E5qsC21wbSwm0R6Gpe6X_62hM9l7BuKp-xtv1tGEZ3oamNzj0klzOUQGdUWL6UtHAcGhETjtGYFfE_rfzbf0WOvRdEuYuoebNE9Z8/s400/PB070216.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5672571905759758162" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px; " /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#0000ee;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); white-space: pre; "> </span>There were a lot of festivities this week at school because this year is SMKI's 50th birthday. Every night from Sunday to Thursday there was a different event at Pendopo- a karawitan performance on Sunday, a dance performance the next day, then wayang (traditional puppet show), and then theater. On Thursday there was a fancy reception where the sultan of Yogya came to speak. I got to see the karawitan and dance performances, which were great. Groups from all over Java came to perform, and I don't think there was an event that ended before midnight. (The wayang performances went until 2 am I heard.) Needless to say, I was tired from staying up so late two nights in a row. I'm used to going to bed really early since I get up at 5:30 every day. However, it wasn't a problem because most of my classes were canceled this week at school so that everyone could prepare for Karnaval- a parade put on by SMKI and other dance companies (maybe alumni of SMKI? Not sure) Thursday afternoon to celebrate 50 years of teaching the traditional arts. Each class choreographed a short dance routine, but I don't know if anyone got to perform their whole number; the parade setup was a bit disorganized so many classes weren't accompanied by a truck of gamelan players for music. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#0000ee;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#0000ee;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHAjoqmWevzeLok3eXwm032FQLWtBYfHJAYC9nGxXKKIWhP0kE28cOVMZGvQQibGrk_ZL3i7coXh8DKeEqRZoT22VcnUJjWLwNJGhEmaxh0fvVLMzmOYCJwwmoVgdnorOtf_Ihns6JjsA/s400/PB060160.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5673556095961618642" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px; " /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;">A children's group that performed gamelan on Sunday night. They were so talented! I was in awe watching them play. The performers were in elementary school (not sure what grade), and it seemed incredible that kids that young could play so fast and memorize a whole set list of songs. Fun to watch. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#0000ee;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); "><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"><br /></span></span></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFkFpPGhIf-gJ5K5EhBh0NkpQBA785_AgiOLiidF1ydjqEPPN5YDS1FxKtT5561728p8WiDknr4bjAxSLCxnBVcM84L8v0bD4smZOInUvFNclTTuLlnFXQfYrnI_BqB4_mo788P6Jhhrw/s400/PB060162.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5673556105973796050" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px; " /></span><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre; "><span><span style="color:#330000;"><br /></span></span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre; "><span><span style="color:#330000;">This is another elementary group that performed, but they were a bit older. This group had kids</span></span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#330000;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"><span><span> singing </span></span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre; "><span><span>Javanese, too, to accompany the karawitan (sitting in the front). They were very good </span></span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre; "><span><span style="color:#330000;">as well.</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#0000ee;"> </span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); "><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"><br /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#0000ee;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre;"><br /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmenPtQwAVGYZNeMmAWw3CK-Abwl-ZOL1OhCbMxyuhvgvd07lXq-xRz42IM9pyKNRPR2LzDLx5FUWoYVAQFZY5JTkKQgpB6F5ozl5-1hecUHfY4e47Y5l9rVC94QojVbtOIa36Dcempcg/s400/PB060155.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5673556089446861138" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px; " /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; ">This is the SMKI student karawitan performance, the group on the left sang and there are students playing gamelan to the right.</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#0000ee;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><div style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0); text-align: center; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#0000ee;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPCm7CUlJcfUno6RJyo6zBoKxyvEVW1geecTAZfHCkLRAixqS8gC4WgS0CaqmF6OdRyfnUcetP8K8ber8KhhDvHx8PQSk4RLayApNvGazTCk1WY0XEOBTk0BfJ5RoDe5BrnoxgLPguEy0/s400/PB060175.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5673556116340761106" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px; " /></span></span></div><div style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0); "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#0000ee;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><br /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: center; "><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; ">A traditional dance performance with live gamelan music (this was during the karawitan event Sunday night). This style of dance, if I remember right, was from Surakarta, a city in central Java sort of close to Yogya. (Notice the different way the dancers pin their sampur: up over the shoulder instead of tying it around the waist like the style I learn at school.)</span></span></div><div style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0); text-align: center; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#0000ee;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><br /></span></span></div></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEho5QvBMWENquAI8Lps754nSu8qYKo3BU6E-Nb8cCqRnrtcOuBxPrA8HlnAdZnd0X-jxT6QdrESf1uuj5CFm5CVlXo2uriJQOmrovtGvBXm7-ck3ujUnq96vbXtrseX5hdEXSyUdGN1tmM/s400/PB070193.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5673561446217677746" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px; " /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); white-space: pre; "> </span>This was one of the first dance performances on Monday night- a dance/theatrical performance put on by cross gender dancers. I was a little surprised at first, considering the generally conservative culture here, but they were great entertainers and the crowd loved it. At the end of their performance they walked off the front of the stage into the audience singing in Javanese about gender/sexual equality (as I was informed by Bu Ami, the Rotarian I went with), and everyone gave them a huge round of applause.</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#0000ee;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#0000ee;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_Gqt8lKF7vta-PIAN2NiUckUuH2fzXQUzjKIwV1thMj0NUg0JD0827vwaaw0TNzH2qqlUrK579lFnMU56d2sE28DYLSQ6lMTU_pi3PN4V7qiaxXGwH0hYa26-N7-PwRl5zWVY1AoeSbk/s400/PB070203.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5673561451757030402" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px; " /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#0000ee;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><br /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"></div><div style="text-align: center;"></div><div style="text-align: center;">I quickly got over my initial reaction at the brazen performances- this was a modern dance/theatrical number done by three men wearing only briefs and body paint. I don't have the slightest clue what the performance was supposed to convey- there was a lot of rolling around on the floor and fire crackers exploding.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#0000ee;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#0000ee;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAltT33bGvJp16bPQ0PUdygVX3hSV7GMJLRhJSFKqUGOpHqpH9Vy9BE5ja49xPtPyrY91kVmT6uSNr5ksHERDB2trVr64qo-c7duPqFWm6S7E7nMlkCB_P6L9Q5PtYPEw0eeTIafI-Olo/s400/PB070208.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5673561457708693794" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px; " /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#0000ee;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><br /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; ">Another traditional dance performance, with live gamelan. </span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "> </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre; "> </span>I woke up Thursday morning at 4:30 in order to shower and make it to school by 6:30 for upacara (and I was also really excited for Karnaval, so I couldn't sleep any later). After the flag raising, everyone went into the dance studios to get ready for the parade. I was dressed up as Sarpokenoko- raksasa perempuan (female giant- very fitting of my stature here). My face was red and I had fangs painted on my chin, but I ended up not looking that scary. The costume was <i>so</i> hot (but so worth it)! I wore leggings, pants, a kain, jacket, sampur, belt, headdress, jewelry, and keris. Thankfully it was cool with grey skies on Thursday, or the parade would have been a struggle.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVuGR8NA6GD1IFjjyVthlY75spGmVoMo3Sj-RsglLongJY-AvwleyDPLzYtFZmeWwMYUP2TOxA_DwHSh8iKoxabAKwJKjpieqJfdE5UsNortP3vV_sUvM2CxuT9r8cemnU7XC0dmMRe8U/s400/PB090242.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5673595457437140226" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px; " /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; ">Students getting ready in one of the large dance studios</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#0000ee;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZ_kO3c9spPj8Y_Bn9BJS2pxM4u6sFiflyEGQMJMsM-cWiwHPVb0zLMgtlh8icSQ8OwiESlqtAgEZSEExWPilvnP2H5ppHLGPHr-CDk7WrQcxemHZm_VNtOnDzMUXkF2uHlbLsmmih8uc/s400/PB090243.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5673595470966322882" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px; " /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#0000ee;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#0000ee;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#0000ee;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkZJesHKfKx9N_jHHWnfpOM9_PuAEB1o8tcMdpR-MdWnk8BCb8-t-qiHgE2ZWS2KFY7c9IIOjehKareF-auG7YANo4COhe5q7ade5JNdWH1QwlDynJHKifL3rk9JzyCnM0-rVIyq3kkZI/s400/PB090256.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5673595453142700530" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px; " /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#0000ee;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#0000ee;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><br /></span></span></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWNaPFovuvMdJnechqo1_xy2r42_vxD2nSQC8StSvow6jsaOMWpCVg5dBy4Xlswvt2GynYs1inuJaYFYJlbQxyS5-8-4A9ApaOq4dD7Co1_4s0-UozGPj43pvoqgEawaIwenY0-3bGfsA/s400/PB090251.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5673589584931564226" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px; " /></span><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; white-space: normal; "><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLR-eaeMFjdNTejnPuMNgrPIKyDBhQ14WGOZhWsxMntH2TvHbqId1gjc7G01IXhRxz8i5gsXCDE7CAvYInDTOvzkd8oYrOckpqPBZvcjuMUqxt6e2VOQroMAjROfLmr_T-z2_yHujKuIU/s400/PB090259.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5673589564962115314" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px; " /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#0000ee;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>Everyone packed onto six buses and a handful of trucks (for the gamelan players, mainly) and headed over to Malioboro. Buses here don't have doors- riders just hop on and off when the bus comes to a stop- so all the monkeys on my bus, with their teased hair and painted faces, were hanging out the doors and windows hooting and hollering at everyone we passed. Other buses had soldiers painted gold who were brandishing their swords at pedestrians. We were quite the sight- everyone stopped to stare. For Karnaval, the performers walked the whole length of Malioboro street and ended in the plaza at Kraton. It was a long couple of hours. Some of the groups danced their way down the street, I just walked with my male giant counterpart. There were several other karawitan and dance groups in the parade, not from SMKI, that I wish I could have seen, but it was great to walk down the street all done up like a giant. I would definitely do it again.</div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>After Karnaval we took the buses back to SMKI- it felt great to take off all the heavy makeup and clothes. Everyone was pretty tired, and most students went home shortly thereafter, but I stayed at SMKI with some teachers to get ready for the reception later that night. I didn't really understand why I was invited to the reception (none of the other students were going)- it was something about carrying a mountain of rice somewhere- and I had to get all dressed up. My hair was dyed black with colored hairspray and put into the traditional updo, and I wore traditional Javanese dress: a kebaya (lacy shirt), corset, stogen, and kain. The reception ended up being much shorter than the other events. There was a tari putri performance by professional dancers with live gamelan, then the sultan of Yogya made a speech. Yogya is special because the city is under government regulation, but also has a sultan that rules over the city, separate from government control. I'm not sure how it all works out, but the royal family certainly is a big deal here. After the sultan spoke, there was a long prayer and then I heard my name mentioned and was ushered onto the stage. A school official took a spoonful from a cone shaped "mountain" of rice and dished some other food from a platter onto a plate and gave it to me. I thought I was supposed to present the plate to the sultan, so I started heading toward his table, but then the headmaster Pak Sunardi redirected me towards me own seat. So I received a plate of food at the fancy reception, but I still don't know why. It was delicious, though, and I was hungry from my long day. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"><br /></span></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_xaLBG9_qL2H5YJYjSvmGt2uZdAl-f3oIyKYe98Lg8zifV-rFhtIaAJ-B3rIqT6FxYRdQz3O-8RUY_N-18wE49_M3Tw8l3Swu2w7BliJwdidmOLzSZGbcRn4RydYN6_48STapC-vZGBE/s400/PB100263.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5673589592906876658" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px; " /></span><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre">Pak Sunardi (in white- headmaster at SMKI), Pak Handono, and the Rotaractors who came</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> to see me! I was required to wear short heels, so I was ridiculously tall. The kain (skirt) is </span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre">wrapped</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre; "> tightly, too, so I would walk like the mom from the Adams family. I hope I didn't look </span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre; ">as </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre; ">awkward on stage as I felt. I didn't trip though, syukur Allah, thank God.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; white-space: normal; "><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhklz38nd-muvXUrSC0zwke8p-TQ6NDeX6nT_v8V_NNnqD5IWHv5ovg0Su01IN_KtSmSljchdiO6Czq5PCuVTcbILpT5pQ6gDua868C45WC-4TmG_vP2rW9oZV6Zt9jW1dIMSlQM_VE4xk/s400/PB100260.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5673589560021169986" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px; " /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; white-space: normal; "><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>Today there is no school for SMKI students because of all the events earlier this week, so I'm using my extra time to blog and then catch up on some much needed sleep. I think I need to start writing more often- these long entries take a lot of energy. Overall, it's been a great two weeks. I've been busy and tired, but I'm sad to see SMKI's birthday celebration come to an end. Now, back to normal life. Sigh. I'll have to start studying hard on my Indonesian- I'm still waiting on my first dream in another language!</div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span">Selamat Ulang Tahun SMKI!</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); "><br /></span></div></div>Andrea Willgohshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15350376515309619075noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5939675325842751098.post-11572968545473864552011-10-28T05:55:00.012+07:002011-10-28T19:47:13.079+07:00Puncak dan Main di Pendopo<div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>This past weekend I flew to Jakarta for the District 3400 Inbound Orientation! There are 25 other exchange students spread out across 4 different islands (Java, Sumatra, Sulawesi, and Bali) and we all met in Jakarta for a little sightseeing, then stayed at an inn in Puncak for next two and a half days. It was interesting to hear the different experiences people are having based on where they are staying and who their host families are. Jakarta sounds like an intimidating place to exchange- a very large city with horrible traffic all the time. One girl told me it takes her two hours to get home from school every day- she said she'll fall asleep on the bus, wake back up and see that traffic hasn't moved an inch. How frustrating! Another inbound living in Medan (northern Sumatra) has a host family that owns the high school he attends, so he actually lives in the school. The school mosque is right outside his bedroom window, too, so he can never sleep through the call to prayer at night. The students staying in Bali seem to really like it- though they say learning Balinese is very hard. It's a challenge for me to learn words in Indonesian and Javanese at the same time, but at least there are some similarities between the languages. I asked one of the exchange students to speak in Balinese, and he said a simple greeting, but it sounded entirely different from bahasa Indonesia. Again, I'm glad I'm staying in Yogya :)</div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>Hearing about some of the public schools made me even more grateful that I go to SMKI (I think I really lucked out on that one) especially since I'm taking a gap year. I'm glad I have the motivation to participate and learn new things in school, or the weekdays would definitely get monotonous. Most of the students I talked to said that everyone generally sleeps through classes or goes on Facebook or Twitter, and that teachers often don't show up to class. (Very different from high school in the US) One other exchange student, Brenda from Canada, is really enjoying her school, though (like me). She is staying in Lampung (in southern Sumatra- she's the only Rotary inbound in her city) and attends a small private school where there are only 13 kids in her class, but they go on all these amazing trips like to Bali, camping, and staying in a traditional village. So all of our Indonesian exchange years are already different in many ways, but perhaps that's what it's like in every country. </div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>As for the orientation part, after everyone introduced themselves in Jakarta we went on a short tour of the city to see a few museums and Monas, a monument. It was so hot! Everyone was dripping sweat and we started to loathe big group pictures because it would take so long to get through everyone's cameras. That afternoon we all packed into two coach buses and started the trek to Puncak, which is a few hours outside of Jakarta. I had been told that Puncak was cold, so I made sure to bring a jacket. Surprisingly enough, I barely took my jacket off once I got there, and even layered leggings underneath my jeans the last two days of Orientation. It was freezing. Probably not by Minnesota standards (I should say definitely), but it felt very uncomfortable to be cold after two sticky, sweaty months in Yogya. </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhET6EXrs37g2y_bjDqwrcwuuiO2pEoyzntwVckUfRybU9RGHUDrUMTPqHs_PMZFcwfU_6vcF2QwEBEbRMoI-7060tl3Bhj_6kBzmVH5vjAWbiBTPShBWKkqD2nGHS7zlkVRLImpMEsL2Y/s1600/PA200438.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhET6EXrs37g2y_bjDqwrcwuuiO2pEoyzntwVckUfRybU9RGHUDrUMTPqHs_PMZFcwfU_6vcF2QwEBEbRMoI-7060tl3Bhj_6kBzmVH5vjAWbiBTPShBWKkqD2nGHS7zlkVRLImpMEsL2Y/s400/PA200438.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5668316932834539922" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px; " /></a><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre; "></span><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre; "></span><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> Group picture! I'm pretending to be from Belgium, with Pauline.</span></div><div><br /></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzmLU6Yvb8Gyq5U2db_m-5YzV1loQbkXCibmbLWFxuVK1jMd3hOVITGLS6BpNUIRrn5M_Y5kN1Ierpr57RuUrZYJpu2SxCJlXBK4EkMYttAcbeSFwrChD6Jg0u-OEm_83gFwlrWhWueRU/s400/PA200459.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5668316949857407266" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px; " /></span><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>Monas, in Jakarta</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBo2q7m0rZfHR36ZUY5kQudUkYCDl6S9qIbmIHdykRb_P91amHMLrMUgDlX8WJmafhK9zFN5pgpgGRu1WJH4l-0H6N1BjBBon3UeJbCTMYRhpFLK8bUOX-L5GOIzp2u-gSivAo5-H3iNw/s1600/PA200457.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBo2q7m0rZfHR36ZUY5kQudUkYCDl6S9qIbmIHdykRb_P91amHMLrMUgDlX8WJmafhK9zFN5pgpgGRu1WJH4l-0H6N1BjBBon3UeJbCTMYRhpFLK8bUOX-L5GOIzp2u-gSivAo5-H3iNw/s400/PA200457.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5668316934965962338" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px; " /></a></div><div><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>At one of the museums we visited there were a bunch of kids on a field trip that were very excited to see a big group of foreigners- so just as we were about to leave they started asking us for autographs. This is Julia (Brazil), who is a Yogya inbound, too.</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhukdaZJYgSB1UYJJy8GnhPszwvoWN2j14u2sfvCU-RVk7nyr6Mm0Calvm9gZ3s4uzOgUHboywQY3EnYEntm8Xdv68aC7r2AfpARWpapC4RXK10CAb4Aq_7L8vn7a86aIlrjflkEFBPK9w/s1600/PA210467.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhukdaZJYgSB1UYJJy8GnhPszwvoWN2j14u2sfvCU-RVk7nyr6Mm0Calvm9gZ3s4uzOgUHboywQY3EnYEntm8Xdv68aC7r2AfpARWpapC4RXK10CAb4Aq_7L8vn7a86aIlrjflkEFBPK9w/s400/PA210467.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5668316952176172050" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px; " /></a></div><div><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">We also stopped at a park outside of Jakarta where there were traditional houses from Makassar on display. </div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>Once in Puncak, we spent the next two days hanging around the hotel, meeting the 2010-2011 D3400 Rotex as well as several members of the District Youth Exchange Committee, going over rules and emergency procedures, team building activities, and an inbound talent show. There were two parts to the talent show, which took place on the last night of orientation. The first part was a regional performance, where the inbounds from each city dressed in the traditional costume of their region and usually sung a song, except for the two girls from Makassar who did a traditional dance. The Yogya kids and I sang a Javanese children's song, and the lyrics go like this: </div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>Yo prokonco dolanan ning njobo</div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>Padang mbulan, padange koyo reno</div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>Rembulanene sing awe-awe</div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>Ngelingake ojo podo turu sore</div><div><br /></div><div>The song is about children who play at night by the light of the moon. Mbulan is moon- in Indonesian it's bulan (the same word for month), so that's easy to remember. I think the title is Padang Mbulan, but I'm not sure. </div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>For the other talent- the one from your country of origin- the other Americans and I (there are five of us) recited the Pledge of Allegiance, for lack of any better ideas. Each one of us had to go through it and make sure we remembered all the words because no one had recited it since gradeschool. So it was a good refresher for us, despite being a boring performance. The talent from Canada took the grand prize, in my opinion- they had no idea what to do for their talent either but they ended up showcasing some Canadian wildlife charades-style and it was quite hilarious. I should go to Canada more often- the people from there are a lot of fun :)</div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>Speaking of wildlife- right as I opened the door to the room I was sharing with Yessi, from Mexico, we found a praying mantis waiting in front of the bathroom. Those things are big. Much bigger than I thought, and much more frightening. From all the pictures I've seen, and maybe just from the name, I thought praying mantises were peaceful insects, but I could barely take a step into the room. Whenever I moved closer to it, it would circle its front legs (arms?) like a boxer getting ready to strike. I was worried that it would jump on me (just thinking of those long poky legs gives me the shivers) but it flies, too! I was surprised by my own scream. The centipedes in my basement in Minnesota won't seem half as bad now. Eventually we got another inbound to take it outside. She just walked up to it and covered it with a trash bin- no fight necessary. I felt a little childish after that. </div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>Overall, Orientation was a nice, relaxing weekend. Despite the cold, it was great to escape city life for awhile. Everyone was reluctant to leave, of course. On the drive back to the Jakarta airport on the third day we stopped at a zoo for one last group activity. There were almost no fences for the animals, only large areas partitioned off which you drove through in your car (or in our case, a big bus). The animals could walk up to your window, and families in cars could buy carrots and things to feed them with. </div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>Here are a few photos:</div><div><br /></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxgBI_55kwQTp4YHf-SuR7Vul7lt6U54LYqfTyy1UR23g7PIBFH0eox4ATOHwiWvAQ6RU9IACflCxoejpG_JB6bT4B-GIZ55OUw5t4VwDSliXXydnvrBV9M0iJ-LhDkS8V0z3Uwa2C4uM/s1600/PA220480.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxgBI_55kwQTp4YHf-SuR7Vul7lt6U54LYqfTyy1UR23g7PIBFH0eox4ATOHwiWvAQ6RU9IACflCxoejpG_JB6bT4B-GIZ55OUw5t4VwDSliXXydnvrBV9M0iJ-LhDkS8V0z3Uwa2C4uM/s400/PA220480.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5668316962837543746" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px; " /></a><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre; "> </span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; white-space: normal; "><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipCCMEwyc4awyBst3SiR4iqMj4PjQbyEk4amcOg-twsASn3I470dMnBKMyzPYTvIjErb7_J41UtNAQbi1Fs7o-bRmQIkrCbqwCEBJqwQnaIJ4xYvwB_M3uG_V_YZk_ImkFSZnOnyBKUVI/s400/PA220597.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5668516226598045666" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px; " /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; white-space: normal; ">Sunbears- unique to Indonesia, and almost extinct.</span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; white-space: normal; "><br /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"><br /></span></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibBQnpGv5sgy98fsMBdgz7Z1WNalSsxxWL3TO_6EYqMVMzgi9KsCGTmMel8OJ42obXQ7D2JG7dqrUkoXqfaQHe5SxU0lHeknZKB9D0t8pezCkoLJQqYLXEsQheFxcVRO3VUKJljUoSjRM/s400/PA220543.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5668516198186876914" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px; " /></span><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre">There were all these signs outside of the wild cats area saying that you shouldn't</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> get out of your car, complete with a picture of a lion attacking the back of a car.</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> None of the cats seemed interested at all in approaching the cars, though. I bet they make</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> sure to feed them really well.</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre;"><br /></span></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUQD7AMq03LjhxT1L3TxvFxzhtYuO_XBzaFdO2_V3v78S2Y8e8ReZkJPZb0Ra9KPIs7Z_BD2c3NzZPdwqiCIfdtuZdc5JuYM56DgPNIYsI5fEG-hcV4VAL0zQdUi0Z0RkkiShrJevuzO4/s400/PA220557.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5668516217490554146" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px; " /></span><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPWEijUANHNBgI3y8Wt71XK25m8W8MNIA5AOfppU0O0Lz9SEidGOr7WRQLySMaCmrmPC8uS3hsUVcutYtuUsPqyv_AHVVyGODkdHTMtp80jNySnY5bwZyBSrpmqUN3gVMCH0u_w4FymjQ/s400/PA220550.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5668516214633964706" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px; " /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqTRK_MCb2VEaekuuRjW-GCijI8wUQmzGvQi469PEXbaMem3Lqnug52ySOYeNP9pC87gMaOU9FVJX8oA9JccB5MjACjAwIZ9hyeYPp_qxM0oaVhyphenhyphengAqcaenLHWI5RDfD_PTMhC8OgqfNo/s400/PA220502.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5668513335849408466" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px; " /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBqAI-gmfMPv8_1piObXtz6EgXE8YTG3WlN1AgA1VCK-dVKLXad2iF4GeshSw-Ytk6gnR6IWIUt2C8UaaaOjIpmf5OM_B9sR2-69xG3-ixFblWpL1jLGyrHpYNiqCcwtwDKR18r2w9XnE/s400/PA220605.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5668513313364744338" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px; " /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><br /></span></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGggP8nHrIQno1j1wuHr94XTlISmo_qiP0s0qPI2PpwxUyv1GtyCQ2BfUIgp0ID8bm8geSWjWuF0ua28tomrWs67gTIjjl6dmhtZX3tcKEO7OXj76P67jiQFnvj-F19euUNisSCkF7Hi0/s400/PA220566.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5668513331982074466" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px; " /></span><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPcwAyT9gLrU47Nq5MxhEnH3GaoiCyk0mfmlVgIZwQP70qjWahMLTmFs4vjkkmaig-9fkeqYWAMhYXIyZupOfi-EHbte9odMDOJLJkM-6r_-ZQxi_6HkOEkI9SiTvxoCHeKCC_eypDKa8/s400/PA220509.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5668513324140223730" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px; " /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; ">An example of my photography skills- there was a man riding an elephant past our bus window.</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyhEQUyFwMju_xMvx5uVHFyWQpJbgn6R4u9QAenpi_BPEHUJfK68eI6PjH-MDzWpdU48XCUfMXI76Hry4JLuDU03N2z15AQ4qQXpNqr30Asw-1C6LTqHBwUe1Tn8Wx5nHrN8Ukw2pco-Q/s400/PA220530.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5668516191365845202" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px; " /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; ">Just like home :) It made me hungry for a bison burger.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>Following my long weekend in Puncak, I saw my first student dance performance at Pendopo, the pavillion at SMKI. It was great. And did I mention that I got to perform three karawitan songs? I played with 1T3, the lower class that I have lessons with, so we actually performed before the real show started (which meant there were only about three parents in the audience). But I was still nervous and excited! I played the sarong (the xylophone one- I've learned one name so far), and I messed up a few times but hopefully it wasn't too noticeable. Mistakes or not, it felt good to show off what I've learned so far. After, I stayed to watch about an hour and a half of the dance and theatre performances. I so wish I could have stayed for the whole thing- the theatre performance was unlike anything I've seen before. It was performed by the highest class at SMKI and it was like a combination of everything that is taught here. All the movements were dance numbers, but the characters would sing their lines in Javanese while dancing and illustrating the story. There was a prince and princess, maidens, a few different warriors, and goblins, from what I saw. I couldn't tell what exactly was going on, except for the fight scenes. I enjoyed seeing the extravagant costumes and makeup; it must be so hot to perform with all those layers and accessories.</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjW5wKxVAhGTIOJxkzbBBgSrmSMr5VMajDi_afA94-2FksCBJMJsnymfSldmcnZG3Cmh0NkIrK-NPv7HzPlOaLkIbBTbiWQj0iN29Sd9OrTsq2B4s1P6Xbqy2OMWaThibjer6VHS-Yn1jE/s400/PA270004.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5668493619799714082" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px; " /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; ">This is where I played karawitan! I was sitting right behind the big wooden pole on the right. From the front of the stage, I was just about in the center of the gamelan set up. </span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgGFMs5SC7SXJweHqvngp6mma4NqKX2hpZqARhtkTLJ_ZY_yeRYsidmaEOEgVmK4yki_6y0N0m8ktGrM2fiY-yQKoS3abWiQ8lgR6CXFjvmHRKcPImDHgByt7x8VVSNRoLScwjdmQ-VDM/s400/PA270015.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5668493624252642930" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px; " /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; ">The first dance of the night- tari putri.</span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><br /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><br /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-Xt5qIwEfT8Ip3u5DR7v64a_h_jr_CrlCQdapru-3q1Q2wHE6MR2BDCzIHga3UK2gvKasf_kw3B3BTBa0g_u9gc2mNMijLgoenKvn30FnvlskM4wDJuHYx2Ec_8VGdPaUcQDSD41jmMY/s400/PA270047.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5668493632362209106" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px; " /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; ">Second dance performance- tari gagah (correct spelling this time).</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVQZ1xheJOTo_vFpkweeMdwKyr7_xRXXhBEadSfuwzuKMtVBlbI0RAV-ZkrjTilxHu1zRC6mKrdxEmg7d2RkTh36qgzrMP3uD8mVei0KY-KFuepTvh5KrDWFEg-NRtllP_Lh4q8lJMq_Y/s400/PA270056.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5668493649382338130" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px; " /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; ">The beginning of the theatre performance. This is the prince I believe, in the middle of dancing and reciting Javanese. I wish I knew who he was in real life- he had a great, jolly voice. Fun to watch.</span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><br /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAyBKersd0oiRT1fc_3m8RxkHGMbuH1CslN2skip2qGHRVVKj0Y83G26n6B7sq8b-IMduV0rP2HWw951MSV3ZDOBrUSpKgzVsnNVPRO8HyY3SDGtUdHm71GHk7OpAiqGISyEaqT6U8f2s/s400/PA270072.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5668493653569341762" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px; " /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; ">Here the goblins, or some sort of scary-looking creatures, are attacking the prince. The princess is the one sitting to the side.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "> </span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); white-space: pre; "><br /></span></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilCoB7hWvtD75zxbdpxupZTMX5dVZqamW90U1Gl25WWZ9-4dYG7EFyNiIRbGB5FcU7UOGTYvcjlzMv-hQMURi2IROIP8B-rOuMsWSDBpDV8ZYpKsQM_EI0OwKPS06zf2HSzhvxS20HWmw/s400/PA270082.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5668502295191242402" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px; " /></span><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre; "><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre; "><span><span>A close up. My favorite part was the dreadlock wigs, I think. It had a nice scary effect when they</span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre; "><span> would shake their heads and act menacing.</span> </span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMhnKBTSTQmCVY9yQtGQGysNuHuhm9STa5GBukormjqXfdGxHCsXGjWCF-qtxIsBtsEZEXSswVpYexfTdMGvPMFj7FAp3VKiGvuEd-Ejt6yvMAjfRkBW9Hd6g8Rwx_4YL6gDyZkjjwYGg/s400/PA270091.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5668502298877862594" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px; " /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); white-space: pre; "> </span>The maidens, as I'm going to call them, getting ready to dance. I forgot to mention that there was live gamelan being played throughout the whole performance (as you can see in the back). There were a few teachers from SMKI playing, but mostly students from the upper class.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#0000ee;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#0000ee;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzONYYhtZI5w5IhUnkSBPFv9dc2UjLeHWUElhIIjQMz38h1s7fZV22VE0JsNLWU2rEGLgDj1U1ySg1bJBaDQmxzwfRQD38zfS12dL_Bw3qmuGWYAUXfNWzruqtifw2bhQ0bnHd-muhT-A/s400/PA270103.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5668502317495927138" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px; " /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; ">Tari putri number, with a masked character sneaking around in the background. He may have kidnapped one of the women? I'm not really sure- but one of the dancers did follow the masked guy offstage. Then later there was a fight scene between him and the prince, all within a dance of course. </span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg75Nntui4g5McLxlOwyzZ8Q3t_HHPQPkWK_iiYssFDsu-IrqcEPxdgDI6BRw7cnAQir2h7pDpbajSC4FUzT-3mefDYE2pfF6hswcUb0hGKPC8I_aUZF-6qBX0Q0bb8Zdz5Di3ZcD_BO9o/s400/PA270115.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5668513307809467314" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px; " /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; ">I'm supposed to know how to wrap the kain (the skirt part) like this, but I don't know the details of how everything goes yet. This is a good picture of how you leave extra fabric hanging down on one side though. I wear a kain like this for my tari putri tests in school (put on with the help of my friends).</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgn-h5gb-g__vbJy7481-H9WEXFtpN7-e_M12LY6qx0dBO7Vaw4EjAgEkPrGa7yFQvFyJyCdTRsFua6SH7k7MrVgpioeb9HWPE_UNzVZvMOrzyThQQMzu1quoXcj9Z23CWSwS72Qk0pX9U/s400/PA270121.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5668502321536501842" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px; " /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; ">The masked guy is back. This was probably before the fight scene with the prince, who entered on the other side of the stage.</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>Whew, that's the most pictures I've ever posted I think. Perhaps I'm just getting new-culture-happy, but I'm excited to share a little bit of the performance at Pendopo. It's much better in person, but at least you can get to see the different costumes. I'm so glad I go to SMKI :) (And I hope you're not sick of my saying that yet). I never thought I'd have a particularly unique exchange- yes, I am the first one from my Rotary district to exchange with Indonesia- but I never imagined I'd be able to attend a well known arts school. After talking with the other inbounds I know that I am very lucky to be able to learn and see so much of the traditional Javanese culture. And it's all because I mentioned learning traditional dance was a goal for my exchange year in my first email to my host family. (Perhaps a good tip for any prospective exchange students :) Good luck.) So, up until now in my exchange, I've performed my first gamelan song, survived my first illness away from home, and now all I have to do is have my first dream in bahasa Indonesia and I think the initiation process will be pretty much complete. I've been waiting on that last one for awhile now... Semoga datang seturusnya. I hope it comes soon. Until then, sweet dreams everyone! Mimpi indah!</div>Andrea Willgohshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15350376515309619075noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5939675325842751098.post-22046836767128266282011-10-16T14:11:00.007+07:002011-10-16T16:06:39.727+07:00Darah, Surabaya, dan Salak<div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>I am right around the corner from going to the Inbound Orientation in Jakarta, which I will be sure to write about ASAP, but I'd like to write a short post to catch up on everything that's happened in the past week or so. I've found it's much more simple to write less, but more often- easier to remember everything.</div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>So let's start about two weeks back, when some members of the Yogya Tugu Rotary club and I visited a rural elementary school north of the city. The Rotary District Governor was in town, so he came along as well. The school was small and simple, but the location was incredible! (To me, anyways. I bet the kids wouldn't think much of it since they live there.) Right across the road from the school yard were several rice fields surrounded by lush, green mountains. What a great view for daydreaming during class.</div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span> We peeked in a few classrooms, gave the principle some grocery bags of food (mostly noodles), and then went to meet some fifth grade students. This part was the main point of the trip- there were two nurses in the classroom taking blood samples from each student that would be used to test for anemia and malnutrition (the funding and medical supplies were provided by the Yogya Tugu club). Some of the kids were nervous to get their finger pricked, but they were all really good sports about it and didn't complain. I smiled and greeted the kids, but all of them were too shy to say anything (they just giggled and hid their faces). Once the nurses were finished, we went to take pictures outside. School must have just gotten out, because there were a few parents waiting and a sudden slew of small children running to join our picture. Afterwards some students came up and asked me my name (I was so surprised- everyone was very quiet before) and where I was from. Before I knew it there was a rush of little hands surrounding me, waiting to be greeted. Everyone was so polite- some even put my hand to their forehead, which surprised me, but was very sweet. They were all so adorable. I'd go back any day. </div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWD3vsYA5wF7jbmHORn7gmFMdSneUa8h0pHCEsv5j1EfbI8qdH7oR0o1Y8jJttoKwY8auJfXLWfIeWl1lpc817fv36GjSQhFGmmhFiNpQMjP4unZNb1g579TiT_xwHQOe-_b8gUiw9JZY/s400/PA070419.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5663990575308251698" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px; " /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; ">Yogya Tugu Rotarians and I</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8jhq1GnNh9o8RmnT5wvnFGbc2Ml3MLZoYaXEXlfJCMG4TRkIsmw_G_bAVIqxCp_y6AZcpzAlTTMsFBMfY6O9AP_tqPEqVHaK1DoCPn8-EfRvgg9IMDI5dFQCqJ2jef7za92-WstG5z-s/s400/PA070415.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5663997141097179938" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px; " /></span><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre;">Taking blood in the classroom</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"><br /></span></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPc594QK6gTp5m3ce33TSeCQCKm8uPzrFK_xPAnu_b22m8zCKz7zsgr_cj1xSb1jmrf-0d2IQ6MHyKxu843JJMUGrjSFnQD7ch3-CnLsCDEp3BZbiuajstlchG2TNvuGRF8IaamJd8R2s/s400/PA070412.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5663990567812166898" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px; " /></span><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>The following week, I went on a four day trip to a city in Java Timur (East Java) called Surabaya. It was a long ride, but certainly worth the four days we spent there. Mainly the trip was to get a visa for my host sister Vania, who will be going to school in Seattle starting in December, but we also visited some old college friends of Pak Handono. Surabaya is a beautiful city. From the signs I saw, the city seemed to pride itself on being modern and "green". This could have meant that the city wanted to be eco-friendly, or it could have been more of an aesthetic description, because there were trees everywhere (much different than in Yogya). There were trees lining all the streets and planted in the medians, which was beautiful but also nice to have all that shade. Surabaya doesn't get as hot as Semarang, but it isn't cool in the mornings and evenings like in Yogya. In addition to the higher temperatures, prices are also higher in Surabaya (though our hotel rooms were still only $24 per night). </div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>We didn't get to do much sightseeing in Surabaya, but we did get to stop by some cool fruit markets. The first one was famous for its apples, and located along one side of a busy road on the way out of town. Apples here are much smaller and more bitter than in the U.S., but I think they are considered somewhat special. We bought several bags as gifts for the families we visited. (I'm also drawing this conclusion from the wedding reception I went to- the fruit salad in our seven course dinner was made entirely from apples.) </div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifhHrSK43Vse9ab63EiturITmDi_HtplVnbMhK4ctlDR2cfIlfoTJMIp_ROrij7MQX314MeJP8KHgv-HBpscCdnElsRQVlyhiKLwBwIZfMhqRZc5LGrx-rnK4RMpCoWAyCIWcbtoBMIVk/s400/PA120423.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5663990608243201826" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px; " /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>The second fruit market was further out of town, and located in a large market complex, where there were several open buildings designated for meat, fish, fruit, and vegetables. I think we got there on a semi-closed day because there weren't many vendors, but I did get some good pictures of the types of fruit they have here. </span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); "><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibAltU13ghhDP815uFyg9u-aZUBvk7p6q39x406amYtrOOANPJje2cMWeONhi8yiMzkapIzYEZ7MWpbG6cMFrCAUvTNnUNM88CsTFXErgUaLgF7YuzpEwSEFZf4Fm1nqLPYzsiYbvSERE/s400/PA130427.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5664005566276517794" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px; " /></span></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><div style="text-align: center; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; ">The fruit building- very big and empty. I think we were the only customers there.</span></div><div style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><br /></span></div><div style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><br /></span></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#0000ee;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="margin-right: auto; margin-left: auto;"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUaWdhDVBib1tbzWYASiTzaYER0oBNVLLJHK_B_oGRe02CWpAWZyeOLqRINp6kH-0ujMOp8LqsSzjebIgA9s7oqZEiEIA3tRvIypnI4pufyX67HDENml77A1fDi00ZsvFiPF3FAnOv4JY/s400/PA130429.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5664005580302665778" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px; " /></span></span></span><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre">This is the pinecone fruit I mentioned in one of my very first posts. It's called salak.</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; white-space: normal; "><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgu2wc66jirApfL4huisDhlOEOWP-OCkqnRnxNwY_Fi-FxdJJoo4dwvjO8OLwuYznKzMSlqn08f8fH_UIQIIHq97O9S6UYIMzAG0SpYrX8Z-u1tPRdXglzOuoD6Y9oSU613kDF92o2Jh3g/s400/PA130428.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5664005570684531202" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px; " /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#0000ee;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; ">This is pepino, a type of melon. I've never eaten it and no one in my host family knew what it was before we visited this market, but we were told that it has a ton of health benefits (for diabetes, heart problems, and other certain sicknesses).</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOrBbO7tPcXwSrCrOROAnkvOif78ImnMn8-axaHIvJbWs94P9LA0r-BVX-7pfoX7jqe3yr4GvXTcV8ht1Iw68eEr2ZeUT5cpnhK1OqTfIhCZidn5VF26-Rqii4eRTr8FgPq9W-oX_2ms8/s400/PA130430.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5664011369689967154" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px; " /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; ">The spiky fruit on the left is soursap, which I haven't gotten the chance to try yet, and on the right are mangos. I must say, mangos here are way better than in Minnesota<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#0000ee;">. </span>They are bright orange on the inside and have more flavor. Delicious.</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMpiKks3IZ4tGleQsH3DJE7ONjTHzFvsBs9okXvKaDkfLiMcM_OuoWItBB3H6sh4c36lVEE_8_PgQkBQezm_dXOaV8nYP7-6nAQ-BLln9rTbsTj902htuH9PeHWrNE1-PIB-qru1fLEdM/s400/PA130431.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5664011358504937186" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px; " /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; ">Indonesian mangos do taste way better, but watermelons here are bland compared to ones from the U.S. I'm not sure what the yellow melons are.</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>Lastly, I have to mention my latest great food find- nasi pecel. I like to think of it as the Chipotle burrito of Java. You start with a banana leaf cup, folded like a snow cone and with a ball of white rice at the bottom. Then a mix of lettuce greens and bean sprouts are added, followed by a douse of bumbu kacang tanah (peanut sauce). You get to choose the main component of the meal, which can be almost anything. There were choices of fried tempe or tofu, shrimp, fish, several different kinds of meat, you name it. I chose a fried egg for mine. Lastly, the whole thing is topped off with some sort of sweet coconut shreds and deep fried peanut crackers. Oh, so good. The peanut sauce is mildly spicy, and also used for satai (small kabobs that are popular here). I hope I get a chance to eat it again. There are many different preparations of rice here, and this might be a type found mostly East Java. I also got a chance to eat nasi Bali (Balinese rice), which was white rice mixed with several different types of meat. It was good, but I don't think you can beat the perfect Chipotle mix of nasi pecel.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>The Inbound Orientation is in four days and it seems like time is moving much slower than normal. However, I fly out early Friday morning, which means I don't miss any of my heavy dancing days at school, so I'm happy about that. I need all the practice I can get. Sampai jumpa!</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span></span></div><div><br /></div>Andrea Willgohshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15350376515309619075noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5939675325842751098.post-7476322405176210162011-10-07T15:49:00.006+07:002011-10-10T17:41:48.678+07:00Beberapa Macam Makanan<div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYgH-HAJAeuO7t8jBCK5dogdbDB0muhiE9qHF4EA6pCEszaH8p0MFaZ4-Jm2nZui6xNWFuChK2bxtc2VX-blgqnizfaKd1YbLkJRzwWSk8EJ7nR_EnDcEnIMRRJGZJnfOnROKkOhyphenhyphen59dY/s1600/P9210360.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"></a><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>Here is a short post about some of the foods I've been eating here so far. I have already talked about some of my favorites- bubur, soto, tempe- but here are some pictures of what has been at my house lately. </div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMtNEk1qoCwrWo7UK1IQ4N1GrzMmn5NszriXT_pSCRUH14Fefd43lT22EsDRV_HhBukR9qOAveUAFZSE1xP387Bhy38YtTtZQvoi5pDsXorcXB41CT3TQ0uJFuVHuz0A_vjw6tNH8JbbQ/s1600/P9210359.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"></a><div><br /></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifSy8jc9BX2UKDJuNHZQzMyUJt7HvtYDH_w9VMt_wwZlzQYfEvb56UMYkf27tw2MRrOG3s8vUtK3nG4gtyERhJ2J742mu8PD-BEX5wEAono10axqVAhOTQ2zy0Y24KClXUiNvCWeiD46M/s1600/P9200350.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifSy8jc9BX2UKDJuNHZQzMyUJt7HvtYDH_w9VMt_wwZlzQYfEvb56UMYkf27tw2MRrOG3s8vUtK3nG4gtyERhJ2J742mu8PD-BEX5wEAono10axqVAhOTQ2zy0Y24KClXUiNvCWeiD46M/s400/P9200350.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5660680664966059282" /></a><div style="text-align: center;">To start off, this is a small pastry called bakpia, which I like very much. When I first tried it, I thought there would be chocolate on the inside (that's what it looks like, right?) but it was actually spiced kidney beans. Bakpia comes in many different varieties (cheese, durian, chocolate, etc) but this particular kind tasted like taco seasoning. My initial thought when I tried it was "Why does this remind me of Tacoasis?" </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8ZkM0Mv235W93r2LWYxwIb19mxCXrwtsYKfJ6Yw_DOwEuIaJzk5Ag0GpCYf8NgZTxzIUdCVOOz3N8bMqhuRRhnFGleflyWtiKlXTgu4_RrAUG5Xuq1_2BDVZrcbelY5etVUbwmLcMXTA/s1600/P9200347.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8ZkM0Mv235W93r2LWYxwIb19mxCXrwtsYKfJ6Yw_DOwEuIaJzk5Ag0GpCYf8NgZTxzIUdCVOOz3N8bMqhuRRhnFGleflyWtiKlXTgu4_RrAUG5Xuq1_2BDVZrcbelY5etVUbwmLcMXTA/s400/P9200347.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5660680656809948002" /></a><br /><div><div style="text-align: center;">This is a cake called lapis legit. I was so excited when I first saw it because my American mother and I tried to make it for a Youth Exchange Outbound potluck in Northfield this summer. Truthfully, it tastes better here. But I'm glad we picked a relevant Indonesian food to make! Lapis legit comes from East Java and is pretty popular. It is made of mostly eggs and butter, my host mother told me, which seems to be fairly common for cakes here. Instead of being fluffy like in the U.S., they are more similar to a breakfast popover. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOxZXEpBCponkHuBP8DYs8rpGoc71DSZkgkj3KeF_Ai5NyARuBBD5TPbIOGGeXM1L9nN0QPYMIrVRLX2yrnWfmZgYyaX9pdQ9grP9Z-xFJIwHIeu4gSFBvB697bBo80_pYqXUDIXwz2hM/s1600/PA010406.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOxZXEpBCponkHuBP8DYs8rpGoc71DSZkgkj3KeF_Ai5NyARuBBD5TPbIOGGeXM1L9nN0QPYMIrVRLX2yrnWfmZgYyaX9pdQ9grP9Z-xFJIwHIeu4gSFBvB697bBo80_pYqXUDIXwz2hM/s400/PA010406.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5660680653163709442" /></a><div style="text-align: center;">This is durian- the inside of a durian fruit, really. The rind is large and spiky, but the meat part, here, is about the size of a baseball. The texture is halfway between an avocado and bread dough, but when you take a glob to eat it sort of comes off in layers. Durian fruit smells a little bit like sulfur- not an overwhelming smell- but I could tell that my host sister was eating it from across the living room. As for taste, it reminded me of a sweet avocado. I would definitely eat it again, but I don't know if I'd go as far as to say I like it. It's certainly an odd combination of sensations. The worst part, for me, is the way your breath smells afterwards (like old eggs).</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; white-space: normal; "><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYgH-HAJAeuO7t8jBCK5dogdbDB0muhiE9qHF4EA6pCEszaH8p0MFaZ4-Jm2nZui6xNWFuChK2bxtc2VX-blgqnizfaKd1YbLkJRzwWSk8EJ7nR_EnDcEnIMRRJGZJnfOnROKkOhyphenhyphen59dY/s400/P9210360.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5660682664319914226" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px; " /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; white-space: normal; ">This is a type of lemper. The main part is made from cassava, and then there are many different types of filling. This one is filled with a sugary syrup (the brown part); I'm not sure what it's called. The cassava part is a bit like compressed coconut shavings<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#0000ee;">, </span>but bouncy, sticky, and not sweet. Lemper is bought wrapped in a banana leaf, and you boil the whole thing to prepare it for eating. </span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>I really enjoy the food here, despite the occasional surprises. Or maybe I love it simply because it is surprising and new. What I notice most is the difference in textures of food here- like how cakes are egg-y, meatballs are dense and bouncy, and the many types of jelly snacks (like jello, but stiffer). Though it all tastes pretty good, it's often the odd texture that throws me for a loop. I still have many more kinds of food to try, so I will keep you updated.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>Since this has turned out to be such a short post, I'd like to add a few other random differences that I've noticed since coming here. Starting with the price of gas- 4.500 rp per liter, which is around $2 US per gallon (and the price never changes). A custom that was particularly hard to adjust to at first was how Indonesians say "mmhm". It is the exact opposite than in America. Here, if you agree to something you say "oh-oh" but with the same inflection as"nuh-uh" in the States. Confusing. At first, I thought everyone was very argumentative- always disagreeing during a conversation- but I've caught on since then. Continuing with opposites, the gesture for "Come here!" in Indonesia is like what Americans do to shoo away a fly- you fan the back of your hand towards the person. This was easier to get used to, but I never expected that little things like tones and gestures could be so different. </div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>Another difference here is that every meal is eaten with a spoon in the right hand and a fork in the left (unless you're eating with sumpit (chopsticks) or your hands) and after you finish, you turn the utensils upside down and cross them over your plate. When you meet someone for the first time, it is common to ask them how many siblings they have, and if they are older or younger (the gender of the siblings is less important). Lastly, whenever you leave the house, you tell whoever is at home that you're leaving, even if you're leaving with other family members. There is a special word for it, but I forget what it is. Apparently it is very important. In America I often would leave on a whim and let my parents know later, much to my mother's chagrin, so I have a nasty habit to break.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>And that'll be all for today! I leave tomorrow for Surabaya (a city in east Java, and also the second biggest on the island), and then I have the Inbound Orientation in Jakarta next weekend, so I'm looking forward to a busy two weeks. Maybe I'll have some more types of food to share with you after all this travelling. Selamat makan! Bon apetit! </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div>Andrea Willgohshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15350376515309619075noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5939675325842751098.post-74295926183506312542011-10-02T08:34:00.000+07:002011-10-02T12:26:40.350+07:00Rumahku<div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>Now that I'm settling into a routine here, I think it would be good to post about my home and everyday life. I get out of bed every school morning around 5:30 am (6:00 am on Sundays) and get ready. Somehow I've gotten into the habit of waking up around 4:00 am, just before the call to prayer starts, and then I fall back asleep for another hour or so once it's over. Usually I'm the first of my host siblings to shower, except on Saturdays, when everyone gets up a half hour earlier. So I have to wait for bathroom time on Saturday mornings. Surprisingly, this is never a big issue even though there are five kids using one bathroom.</div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>For breakfast there is always a glass of warm powdered milk made for the kids, but this is the only time during the day that we drink milk. There aren't any specific breakfast foods here- often the maid prepares yellow or fried rice with sausage bits, but fried tempe or tahu (tofu), duck eggs, tofu "omelets", or bubur (rice porridge) is also common. On Saturdays I go out to breakfast with Vania (host sister) and my host parents Helena and Handono. So far I've had soto or bubur each time (always spicy) but Vania ordered fried chicken the other morning- so anything goes for breakfast. </div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>Every day except for Saturday I get a ride to and from school with the family driver. Everyone at SMKI either walks or takes a motorcycle to school, so I always feel odd (and spoiled) getting dropped off and picked up at the front office. Some students ask me how I get to school and with whom, and when I say the driver takes me in a car they sort of raise their eyebrows and say "Aku ikutlah?" Can I come? I hate to look like the pampered American girl, but I definitely can't complain about my method of transportation as long as it gets me to SMKI six days a week. </div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>I get home from school around 3:00 pm most days, but 11:30 on Fridays and 2:00 on Saturdays. It is typical for people to take two showers a day here- once in the morning and once in the afternoon/evening- so if I've had a lot of dance classes or it was just a really hot day, I'll take a shower after I get home from school. I'm still working on getting into an extracurricular program at my school, but I do have a few after-school activities so far. Thursdays are busy because my bahasa Indonesia tutor comes right after school, and once we get done I head out to the Rotary meeting. On Saturday night I went to a tai bo class that goes on weekly at a health club close to my house. It was fabulous. Tai bo is a mix of self defense and aerobics, so there is lots of punching and kicking, but fast techno music (and a very energetic, enthusiastic instructor). He would often go Woooo hooo! and Ayyyyyy! during the workout and I couldn't help but smile. He's a big reason why I loved the class so much. Besides being a great time it was also a hard workout, so I hope we can make this a regular activity. Pauline, the inbound from Belgium, is taking tai chi classes every Tuesday night, too, which I plan on joining. As for the extracurricular program at my school, there is a batik and metalworking class that I have my eye on. Hopefully I can add that to my list soon; we are meeting with the SMKI headmaster Pak Sunardi to talk about it on Monday. </div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>Dinner is usually around 7:00 or 7:30 pm at my house. There is a wide variety of food we eat for dinner, but it is always served with white rice, sambal, and kecap manis. Sambal is a chili paste that can be homeade by crushing small red chillies in a mortar and pestle, but we also use the bright red, bottled kind that you can find in Asian restaurants in the U.S. I have just recently discovered the wonders of sambal- I put it on everything. Kecap manis is an Indonesian staple, and looks like soy sauce but is thick and sweet like molasses. Kecap manis is always store bought; I've been looking for a recipe but my host mom says that it is very difficult to make. It would be an old, traditional recipe, and sounds like it would be hard to find. People usually add both sambal and kecap manis to everything, even soup. I have to say, the syrupy sweetness makes a really nice combo with the super hot chillies. I like a majority of meals here, but a few of my favorites are botok (finely shredded fish and coconut wrapped and cooked in a banana leaf, very spicy), pepes tahu (tofu and coconut wrapped, cooked in banana leaf), fried tempe, bubur, soto, and dim sum (Chinese dumplings). Fried tempe can easily be boring, but the maid has a way of cooking it so it tastes sort of caramelized, but it's still spicy. SO good. I asked Vania how she does it- you coat the tempe in some sort of spice mix and then fry it. I'll be getting that recipe for sure, once I can speak Indonesian. I do know the maid's name, by the way, I'm just afraid to write it down because I don't know how to spell it. </div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>A quick note about the maid- it was odd at first, but I've gotten used to it. I still have to tidy my room and help with dishes and some cleaning every Sunday here, so it's not too different from life in Minnesota. The maid comes at 5:30 am every weekday, mixes our milk and fixes us breakfast. She packs lunches sometimes too, and cooks for us on Fridays when we come home from school in the afternoon. Laundry is done every day, but I don't know where she does it- I don't think there's a washing machine in the house. She might take it to the laundry place down the street but I'm not sure. She leaves around 4 or 4:30 pm, ,and so dinner is always cooked by my host mom. </div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>Evenings are generally quiet at home. Everyone does homework in their rooms, or watches TV. I go to bed around 8 or 8:30 pm- and I get a lot of crap for it. </span>But I'm always so tired by then, it just feels like the time to go to sleep.<span class="Apple-style-span"> One of Vania's friends Felix stopped by my house on the 8th to wish me happy birthday, but he had to turn around and go back home because I was already asleep (it was 9 o' clock). In my defense, night life here is nothing compared to U.S. standards (and other places around the world, from what I've read in other outbounds' blogs). Since a majority of the population wakes up early (4:30 or 5:00 am for prayer), most of the city shuts down by 11 pm. This lifestyle fits me well; I've never been good at staying up late. While we're talking about going to bed, I'll mention that they don't use sheets here, just a fitted sheet over the mattress and a blanket. This is certainly appropriate for the climate- but it seemed odd at first, when my winter Minnesota bed has sheets, two/three blankets, and a quilt.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span></span></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7uOcFyti31s3aV1wiI12Kv8Q5DoQ65a7DvoNKzGsfUYqVA-llcRrDtBflRKBg8Pg-0i7UUbXGQYAO8_p8SvzXnBTlTB4cMdUk9mjdlg667XRgl5-B38uj-VueQpi3E_krAuYl9IBPNJI/s400/P9200352.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5658730342014659394" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px; " /></span><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"><span><span></span></span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;">This is the front of my house, from an odd angle. I couldn't get a good picture with the gate closed.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlWntFasyLGVFrVsi2XBSo82pzosS52ubxBJuO_e9iHoGT-uJ8f4ZG5xj0AHSCDM5Gv1WDThCZfSf9U0U7ZH3ewuxazK2f77TC-FzvzAWY5rZVx7EaFtWuOJSitpkhR-b6lHCym-r0KZE/s400/P9200353.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5658708012236151170" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px; " /></span><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span">Everyone's shoes outside the front door<span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre;">. </span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre;"><br /></span></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjv93lrXfWGgYys-hLlx65gF3nyto8avnUixQyW7UHMsXEfWdJp4mLCJpHTwep_NLuXbvPshfJjKuKUXEReHARPYwJ0Vw2KeOE_0r5de2mdzSL9kZhaRYHMHowicJQxE_GI7cJb_UUTtOM/s400/PA010409.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5658760692489648578" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px; " /></span><div style="text-align: center;">This is the living room and eating area. All the bedrooms are connected to this room- mine is on the left wall.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh51JGYI34OwaZKxd6Lro4L0C84b6zwtBSwVpRDyRrGYV36_WNw2_xujlkjiJl1xnB0pyFb8vZKw6OWeg2NWOXsKOhjm37msMODGl6iVVZ0xVU5RILIGwikPjOY3LnEFs1AjLVuGqIgK9o/s400/P9200355.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5658708008460890210" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px; " /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; ">This is my bedroom, and the typical way of making your bed here.</span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><br /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQkGDnKKIzqyU3M_dCk5ZZd9Nm36XXZSjV-Vhc-g-NlrhWSxXQvOJmWDhynFdtRPFKIONse64-O8dcu1DyjzWK1xKCYiEHscNJ86isNUue93Pm-NAvj_0ZFRxoxWQzCmWWZV0Ck2pdvAw/s400/PA010411.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5658760699213181906" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px; " /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; ">The kitchen. The dog kennels are just outside the door. </span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkGpeC07-Rh0J86Jyzq-XtoFRBgkcSMD883CPqX4CF7pED8-9nbhOtPhtfFo0mERZX-a1wFTC5kRMX-eQQhYejmUwh14GP6OGAeIOHXPp3HS2naRiMYkIVbxOhElV_c5y4rirKK-U6fgQ/s400/P9210364.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5658708002578674946" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px; " /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;">Here are two of my host family's dogs. I don't know their names- they always bark at me so I don't hang around them much. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1DXYlmPs378FAKPOmjlytfsQdSDzMPpp9zApvBC37C_7ee_eBlQ6_0oN27CFox32z93E_g-0MC40-PA-j4ZJEOKr8LnqoFCozGLfqJX1WjusDFHzsMgOVPiLM64WMeyxgMUA4sMMsOr8/s400/PA010408.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5658760682572299602" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px; " /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; ">This is Angel (a very fitting name- she's so sweet) and her seven puppies. My family is planning on selling the puppies, but I've heard rumors we might keep one... fingers crossed.</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicg3q5Zg2-vGDYLtHsze1yQteHkD3lZ1k7LNbk9ViYeCx3CeWmAJRvVcI2B9q0O09Clbnv2b6OMciZd0zBpKxonAfEjkZcuFBTbLZr_eRBhpJUTBUM8mMez4muWTC-dQng0S9wpq8vUa0/s400/P9210361.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5658707998340456978" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px; " /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;">This is the backyard. There's a pomegranate tree in the right corner (by trellis)- so far there are several pomegranates growing, but they're small and green. There isn't grass here- just short, round, leafy plants. Difficult to describe.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">More pictures of SMKI.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuZOg3bZX0_Hp0UjRcgzC4J3GQgy_3aMGqkMUyBC9kjpULX40FZhGezTGiVoumVh0ThyphenhyphenFJN-zw3npBQPAcf0wCIAgMWmRfaW9V9Kytx2uHTpbKWObTUnp2sYIIk8-a3LATsmtyGGUdDFw/s400/P9270397.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5658730344727654146" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px; " /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; ">The cement courtyard and mango tree. The karawitan rooms are in the building straight ahead.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8Ht7w7VQvCRpcXvjKmAIYgyv2brGJQTD9p67e-B7OvRPnNIpkEtYnDfcP3fBu-xD9xe3afpRKPGIh6UdzFF7kF0cUVKS-jTD71Qe8JZ8r9tn8WFWq_EmskUsJLIJ8EYKFCHAy6I89L-A/s400/P9270402.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5658730357366674338" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px; " /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;">These are pictures of the karawitan set in the vocal room- so there aren't any xylophones like I mentioned before. (They're not xylophones- I keep forgetting to ask the real name.) But this will give the general idea. </div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#0000ee;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#0000ee;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqEMKpauqHUsYqODwnT4Nrllfe_ProH2nwFtdItpL6hXwkC0tEDTejK6Sp5P5sGYJ36d1oMmIm5ffGvOtKrDdMnt780gTfLAGkRx1k8mhvz82Q1_gYWl4ZrDvgszQ83nzQB8Od4eo975M/s400/P9270401.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5658730354462886082" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px; " /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre; "> </span>There is another, larger karawitan set in the room next door that is used for actual karawitan lessons. There's always a class in there, so I haven't gotten a chance to take a picture of it yet. There is also another karawitan set in one of the large dance rooms. It's never been used during one of my lessons, but I got the chance to peak in on a theater lesson after school one day when there were students reciting lines and dancing to live gamelan music. Cool. There are also two gamelan sets (I think Javanese gamelan sets), and a Balinese gamelan set which I have never seen (the door is always closed) at SMKI. The Javanese gamelan rooms are used for puppet performances, from what I've seen, which are so fun to watch. A few students play different instruments while one student sits cross legged at the front of the room and does the puppet motions in front of a white screen. The puppet student holds a metal something between the first two toes of his right foot, and hits it on a bell (but it makes a very metallic sound, like a cow bell) at different tempos to help narrate the story. Very cool.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; ">I know this isn't supposed to be a post about school- but this seemed like the appropriate time to throw that out there. There is so much talent at SMKI.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><br /></span></div><div>And that's all for now! I tried durian fruit for the first time last night, so there will be a post about food coming your way soon. </div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><br /></span></div>Andrea Willgohshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15350376515309619075noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5939675325842751098.post-60976269446004969782011-09-27T06:54:00.000+07:002011-09-28T20:36:42.754+07:00Ulang Tahun dan Malioboro<div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>Last Sunday was my host father's, Pak Handono's, 46th birthday. We spent the day with his sister and her family to celebrate, starting by meeting at a church in Yogya for the Sunday service. I particularly like this church because it is big and has a large mural painted on the front wall. On Sunday, however, we arrived a little late so we had to sit on the overflow benches outside, and watch the service on a TV. This turned out not to be so bad, because it got to be a hot morning and there was a nice breeze outside to cool us off.</div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>After the service, we did a bit of driving. We went to the hotel where Pak Handono's relatives were staying so that they could check out, and then we went to see the women's boarding house that my host mom, Helena, just opened a few weeks ago. After that, we headed out north of Yogya for lunch. It was a long drive, and by the time we arrived at the restaurant everyone was hungry. The drive was worth it though! The restaurant was beautiful- everything was made of bamboo and the eating rooms were suspended over a pond (it was man-made, I believe). We took off our shoes outside the eating area, sat on the floor, and ordered drinks. I said I wanted an es teh panas. Hot iced tea. I felt really dumb, and eventually we got it sorted out. I am very much looking forward to being able to speak well in bahasa Indonesia. For food, we ordered two different kinds of shrimp, fried tofu and tempe, a vegetable salad, and grilled carp. I was surprised that the restaurant would serve carp- I've always thought that they weren't good to eat, but perhaps it was a different variety than there is in the Cannon River in Northfield. The fish was smaller than the average Minnesota carp, and very tasty. We also brought a chocolate cake for Pak Handono, which we actually ate before the meal started and only used our hands. Sticky, but delicious.</div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"><br /></span></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><br /></span></div><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiux9Au09eBMJ1XhXShhykkf_3TTEqANPC9qCN5NPcuARf2RbVKHh5yGKYlwMR77fL3dFaZH6cvN3IeU-v3zJZWxA12IY0LnOueauyc8Vcv_QH9AvVWrMmEFDBZAAHsJRDhFPCk63Duwa4/s400/P9240378.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5657390337296709570" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px; " /></span><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre;">Walk ways to the eating areas</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; white-space: normal; "><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilaCpRK5ZR1kwzbeFY4CdQvYhUS3FyEnVe32_3SVR2MdGfyqQXRU4tgbD8QexFjS1pge4O8abAHcizn6zWd_M1qVPjmaj6gVxr8Fk29DKWtpkgtPyKI8MGo-nVZac8H5JiHA6DwhK5SAE/s400/P9240379.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5657390339581538162" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px; " /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;">The view from our table</div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; white-space: normal; "><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>After lunch, we decided to go to St. Mary's Cave. The drive there was on a long, winding, mountain road. The scenery out the car window was beautiful, but I was getting a little carsick, so I couldn't gaze for too long. Once we were out of the car, we bought a box of candles from a little stand next to the road and then climbed up some stairs to the shrine. There was a washing station along the way, with many different water spigots, where everyone washed their hands, arms, and faces. The water there is said to keep you looking young. The "cave" was really just a large rock with a statue of Mary set into it and surrounded by roses and burning candles. Everyone lit a candle and stuck it to the rock with a little hot wax, then sat down on small stools and prayed. All you could hear was the rustling of the trees in the wind; it was the most quiet few minutes I've ever experienced since coming here, and for some reason it was hard not to cry. I lit a candle for all my family, friends, and supporters back home, and got the chance to sit and think about my purpose here as an exchange student and all the opportunities that lie ahead of me. After praying, we hung out and took some pictures before heading home. It was a nice, relaxing Sunday.</div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtx2AtAPBrsLvTI4PsqlFNOQgkiFYRJiO9w7s5CvuiwRmEPvxAm4Vrj2LsXdzoonx0HHTe011lWIRpKOWHNzJARarPZilphGSfYfrDqcdzl2oIVFzxpUyI0Dt5-hRcu8Jq7BtbHD5Emrw/s400/P9250383.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5657390343718718386" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px; " /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;">Street vendors selling candles, roses, rosaries, and other souveniers</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjeo6YHifJ1jy1Jg9zZrEMFBL_LLNenVnPqfJfU9uJ94KUq92zcFMyUVPhjfJXuY4FyeRUgqE4Vc-uICBEYqXX9RkRYlX2I9gfjv2_yqkEpVV11y6iJAI2JQjrCRGwW0GvcWdN8BabTOi4/s400/P9250392.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5657390348854812738" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px; " /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; ">Building right next to St. Mary's Cave. The washing station is to the right of this creek, on the lower level. The shrine is up the stairs from there, on the same level as the upper bridge.</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWTY7uhGDdWWnHO5sD2Wgnyy3yFWr5HrbKY_fzfhiRw6EOh3-4rY9SLoIHTMUZGi9z7WuVG1EcsV8nJNudLPzsg_SEmqDLZAxwRLX3aGdJruX4yDZ56Wzx9inKcsFwDLeUfTTX_eLbTmE/s400/P9250393.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5657390354284026770" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px; " /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#0000ee;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>If you'll allow me to backtrack to Saturday night, I also went on my first visit (of many, I hope) to Malioboro- a popular market place in Yogya. It consists of one main street, lined with shops, and then many restaurants and hotels nearby. I didn't get a chance to shop much, but we did take a short ride in a horse pulled carriage, which are everywhere in Malioboro. I learned that whenever you want to buy something here, always start bartering for half the given price (sometimes even less than that, if you're a foreigner). The whole street was mostly batik shops, but there were a few hotels and general stores, too. And packed with people, of course. </div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span></div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; white-space: normal; "><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijcS0gxqVrjrEBMEz2mjYis4YGph6hHEs00v3oc3wIDpjCMjzWrRE_9BVxZTVu8xK2galNyrhMHPE9ytVSABunOsVM_F6JMRXOdsc3qOLAfzuv8pHuvCgTu-mxYg4tXMDk-rHHYnw4J4o/s400/P9170343.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5657399058433519986" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px; " /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;">Malioboro, from the end of the main street.<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#0000ee;"> </span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#0000ee;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); white-space: pre; "> </span>And that's all I have for now. School is still going great, and I hope to post another entry about my home here in a few days. Until then- sampai jumpa!</div>Andrea Willgohshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15350376515309619075noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5939675325842751098.post-69759116372845020492011-09-21T17:49:00.000+07:002011-09-23T16:47:50.944+07:00Salam Belajar<div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>Having completed two full weeks of school, I think it is high time for a blog entry. I can't say it enough- I love it at SMKI. It seems like everyone at school knows my name; I don't think I've ever walked to a class without someone yelling "Halo Andrea!" across the yard. I've started to introduce myself with Indonesian pronunciation- Ah-ndreya- since no one can say the American version. In bahasa Indonesia, though, you are supposed to roll your "r's", which I haven't mastered yet, and so it's sort of odd when people I meet can pronounce my name better than I can. However everyone has been very welcoming and kind, so it is a rare occasion for me to feel embarrassed.</div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>I was worried about finding people to sit with at lunch on the first day of school, but it turns out there isn't a formal eating area at school. If you want to buy your lunch there is a food stand called kantin ("canteen") on the edge of campus where you can buy hot meals (nasi (rice), mie goreng (fried noodles), soto (soup with rice), among other things). I order an es teh (iced tea) most days, which is sweet and refreshing, and costs about 12 cents US. There are many people who just pack their own lunches every day, and eat outside during istirahat (recess). </div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>As for my schedule, I am learning three different types of dance- tari alus, tari gege, and tari putri. It's difficult to say which one I like the best; they are all very different. Tari alus is very slow and methodic, and the whole dance is done in a squat position, with your feet pointed straight out to the side. I enjoy my tari alus lesson because I can copy everyone better when they're moving slowly, but I am also dripping sweat by the time the lesson is over. At first, I thought tari gege would be the easiest (I'm still not sure if I'm spelling that right, by the way. I'm guessing based on its pronunciation "guh-guh"), because the movements looked simple. You take a lot of big steps, for lack of a better way to describe it (always with your toes flexed and knees pointing out to your side, like tari alus), but it is <i>fast</i>. Or it seems fast to me because I cannot keep up no matter how hard I try. There are simultaneous arm and leg movements and changes of finger positions... Too much for me to remember. Tari gege has more abrupt moves than the other dances; I think it is a traditional male dance, but classes are always co-ed. Lastly, tari putri is my favorite to watch (but challenging for me to execute). Putri means "princess" or "girl", and the movements look delicate, feminine, and beautiful. Out of all three types, I want to learn a tari putri routine the most. Performances, from what I've seen, are done alone, and the dancer wears a long traditional wrap with a fancy long-sleeved lace shirt. </div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>In general, dances are performed using either one or two long, batik cloths. One might be hung around the neck (tari gege), like a scarf, and the other (if you are advanced enough to use two) is looped in a special belt around the waist (tari gege/tari alus), or else just knotted around the waist (tari putri) with the ends hanging down in front. Dancers use the batiks throughout the routine- flicking the ends behind them, wrapping it around their hand(s), holding it out in front or to the side, etc. There are so many variations, but I am still working on actually finding the cloth piece when I have to flick it. The dancers here make everything look very fluid and easy, but I can't seem to ever have the right sense of what position my body is in. I have yet to tackle any head movements- they are a very important part of the dances, but I simply cannot make the rest of my limbs function right when I'm trying to swivel my head a certain way, too. I obviously have a lot of room to grow.</div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>So I am learning three different types of dance, but I attend lessons with different classes. (Here, the same group of students typically attend all the same lessons together.) I, however, get to switch around which is nice because I get to see more advanced dancing (exactly that- I mostly watch because I can't dance with them) but I also get the chance to participate at a more basic level of each type of dance. I have at least one dance class each day, Wednesday being the most tiring because I have three basic-level lessons in a row. Thursday all four of my lessons are dances, but two of them are advanced so I just watch. More like gape in amazement, I suppose. :)</div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>I also have two Javanese singing lessons each week, which I actually really enjoy. My very first lesson was a bit stressful, because I was asked to sing alone in front of the class and there are very high notes. As it turns out, I have yet to attend a vocal lesson where I am not asked to sing solo, so I have gotten used to it. A small part of me hopes that this is because the teacher likes my voice, but it's more probable that she just wants me to work on my Javanese pronunciation. I don't yet know the meaning of the words I sing, but I have learned to count to six in Javanese (warm-ups are done in numbers)- ji, ro, lu, ma, nem. Almost to six, I don't know what four is yet; for some reason, we never sing that note. And I think that is abbreviated Javanese (like how Indonesian is shortened to tu, a, ga, pat for satu, dua, tiga, empat).</div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>Javanese has become an intimidating obstacle for me because Javanese words are used very often here (mingled in with bahasa Indonesia) but the spelling and pronunciation are different. For example, in Javanese an "a" is pronounced "oh" (so the above "ma" is sung like "moh"). I have a bahasa Jawa class, but between the teacher speaking in Indonesian and Javanese I have no idea what is going on. I just write down what they tell me to. This past Tuesday I was introduced to aksara jawa- Javanese letters. When I first saw the teacher writing them on the board I was in disbelief. It is like nothing I have ever seen before; the symbols all look like a variation of a cursive "m". I thought Javanese was tough already, and now I am learning a completely new alphabet. I took a picture of my notes so that you can see what I mean. Each symbol is sort of like a consonant, but pronounced with an "a" at the end. HA (ho), NA (no), CA (cho), RA (ro), etc. If you want to change the "a" part (like end with an "ooh" sound instead of the original "oh") then you add extra stuff to the letter (a long vertical hook to the end of the symbol, for the "ooh" sound, for example). In spelling my last name, to change the WA symbol to be pronounced "wi" for Willgohs, you draw a little circle on top of it. For WA to "wuh" you draw a big circle on top... And that's all I've learned so far. I have bahasa Jawa only once a week, but I hope the next lessons stay this interesting.</div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; white-space: normal; "><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKNxqJ-qKNAv448XsK2IZ2lE9RlUVGGcwgyuq5TYZVfyqmnNTMFJ-5z3MZk_ZPc3v3vb_wcQ8G65vnbAkMcI4RQvVjJmZPNl_ZtxfimpXZ7FPWorsCeKFfhUTeAEstAgbZluQz57X2qxw/s400/P9210374.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5655477254050278402" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px; " /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); white-space: pre; "> </span>Aksara Jawa, then my name written twice</div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>I have a bahasa Indonesia lesson once a week as well, where I can follow along a little better. So far I've only been to one lesson (I missed my first scheduled lesson when we left town for Semarang), but it seems like a good fit for my level of understanding. I don't know a majority of the words that are said, but I can grasp what the main ideas are.</div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> My</span> karawitan lessons are twice a week. I just recently got to try all the different instruments, but I have the most experience on what looks like a short xylophone and carries the main melody of the song. The other instruments are sets of gongs, bells/metal pots (hard to describe- they remind me of acorns), something similar to a glockenspiel, and drums. I will have to include a picture in a future post; the whole set up is pretty impressive. These are the instruments for karawitan, but there are additional instruments for other types of gamelan. Karawitan is fun to play because there's an obvious pattern to the melody (so it's easy) and the teacher will speed up or slow down the tempo at different points in the song (universal throughout gamelan, I believe). It is great to feel like I'm catching on fast, compared to how I do in dance. I still have difficultly following other gamelan songs because the timing of the instruments and tempo seems so erratic (this is especially a hindrance in dance classes because I can't figure out when the eight-count starts), but I'm slowly getting more accustomed to the sounds. During my first karawitan class, I learned an important lesson. After we finish the song, everyone in the class rotates around to play a different instrument. I was in the process of stepping to the next set of xylaphone-things when I heard some students behind me go "No, no, no!" Too late. The teacher then explained to me that stepping over gamelan instruments is disr<span><span>espectful, but that this time was okay because I was foreign and I didn't know. Whew. I still apologized several times. I knew there would be moments like these during my exchange, but I still felt ignorant and rude. I am now extremely careful when changing stations.</span></span><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span></div><span><span><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>Lastly, I also have lessons in traditional dress and OTB, both once a week. In the traditional dress class, you use two pieces of fabric- a large, rectangular batik cloth and a long, skinny, stretchy wrap. The batik is first accordion-folded several times along one edge (the folds about two inches wide), these are pinned in place, and then the whole thing is wrapped tightly around your legs, with the accordion folds ending in a vertical line in front. The batik is wrapped from a different direction for males and females, too. The stretchy cloth is then wrapped multiple times around the stomach and the end tucked in in back. There are other important details to doing this right, but they are hard to explain and I'm sure I don't know all of them. I don't remember what OTB stands for, but it is like a short martial arts dance routine. My favorite part of this lesson is the stretching at the beginning, because everything afterwards is fast, difficult, and tiring. I much prefer my other dance classes.<br /></span></span><span><span><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span></span></span><span><span>To end with a few general details about my school day- everyone takes off their shoes and socks outside of the dance studios and karawitan rooms. For dancing, everyone wears black leggings and T-shirt, and additional traditional clothing items/accessories if needed. If you are walking between two dance lessons, you can stay in your dance outfit but you wrap your batik around your waist (for girls, anyways). For all other classes besides dancing you have to change back into your uniform. There are two istirahat periods every day, one for twenty minutes and one for thirty minutes, where students usually eat or do homework around campus. Most interesting, I think, is at both the beginning and end of a lesson everyone in the class goes up, takes the teacher's hand, and either touches it to their forehead or right cheek. (I always go for the right cheek, in case my forehead is sweaty). I've been told that this is a gesture of respect. I'm glad we do this at school, too, because I saw this type of greeting in the Jakarta airport and thought wow, that's cool. And now I do it every day :)</span></span><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYVUA_Y7sE9KwqNUT6rvqf9IXDi-dMTYkK_T6jPu2yP-t_RVR_TX51ncXsntcryw6OJTIySLi5qPQSkbgPVLLhQScdqs_ZttGfeccy85s3aOEd7eHcJus0qO7-o3nKERWjSIn2QfqAcTI/s400/P9070340.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5655477269753064194" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px; " /></span><div style="text-align: center;"><span><span><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"></span><span><span> </span></span></span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"> First day of school picture. This is my uniform hari senin ke hari kamis (Mon-Thurs). Hari jum'at dan hari sabtu (Fri and Sat) I wear a blue and black batik shirt with a black skirt. I prefer the batik uniform, because it looks sweet first of all, and you don't have to tuck your shirt in.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiR5JGbWL-Bwvlw5gHB31hSGO12EP4picdOAI4iincEwQ9w2iyxI5jyPXmBMXXUr0XmKhSiAiLMYcQ0CD4JQFcCoixhmvFJkffEA-i9Lsf-iY2zGLVIm9-0ek9sBvhvQnmQ-W5Zicl-374/s400/P9210358.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5655477265153424802" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px; " /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; ">This is the field where upacara ("ceremony") is held every other Monday at 7 am. I have only been to one so far. Everyone lines up in rows, looking towards the flagpole, and wears a school hat, which I don't have yet. There is singing of the national song, raising of the flag, a prayer, speeches and announcements. Each class at SMKI take turns running upacara, and the students in charge have to walk in military fashion, wear military hats and white gloves, and occasionally yell commands (for everyone to salute the flag, or stand with their feet together). I wasn't aware of the hat requirement before I came to school on Monday, so I had a half hour of wanting to shrink and hide when I had to stand a head taller than everyone (with my blonde hair), and not have a hat. Another moment where I felt unintentionally rude.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#0000ee;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#0000ee;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#0000ee;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjd_ey1-JwgfaZH3qR4-2MR85TnsgQITAamAxDaSdWz_AX5wT6whlhYtWoEiuotNch7vNZl1yrNJ1mtwuyvvc5ESHe3Kkg3IzbsHJgts8S9oGlbars8XAX-Ht6fOngKfhSA5lrq4E3rNXg/s400/P9210357.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5655477258394891634" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px; " /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#0000ee;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><br /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; ">This is one of the court yards at school, to the right is the office, but there are classrooms all around the other sides. Straight ahead, through the opening in the cement wall, is a concrete amphitheater. I've seen some of the theatre students practicing in there before, but mostly students just relax there during istirahat. There is a big mango tree in the corner (not visible from this picture), that the boys sometimes climb to get an afternoon snack. I have yet to eat a mango fresh from the tree, but I'm hoping someday I can ask someone to pick one for me.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#0000ee;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><br /></span></span></div><div><span><span><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>Clearly, my school here is completely different from high school in America, but that's probably why I love it so much. I am truly lucky, and so grateful, that I get to study at SMKI. The students are incredibly talented and always friendly, and I get the chance to learn a unique part of Indonesian culture. No doubt every day will be a challenge, but it's an experience I will never forget. I've decided that all the work is worth it for just those few minutes where I get to change classes in my leggings and batik wrap. Because man, does it feel cool to be a dancer.</span></span><div><div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"></span></div></div></div></div></div>Andrea Willgohshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15350376515309619075noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5939675325842751098.post-32064764967297741022011-09-12T17:05:00.000+07:002011-09-12T19:21:38.974+07:00Selamat Malam<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>This past weekend I went to Semarang with my family, which is a city about three hours north of Yogya on the opposite coast of Java. Semarang is much smaller than Yogya, but much more hot and humid. I often get cold at night in Yogya, so I chose to wear a long sleeve shirt for dinner Saturday night, but walking around Semarang after dark still feels like the middle of the afternoon, so my attempt at planning ahead didn't work out so well. <div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>The purpose of our trip to Semarang was to attend the wedding reception for Vania's cousin Ika. She got married to her husband Jeffrey in Perth, Australia in early August and chose to have the reception in Semarang, where most of her family lives. Much to my dismay, I only packed one dress for the weekend when there were actually two semi-formal events: a Catholic mass and dinner Saturday night, and the reception Sunday afternoon. There was a private mass performed in the restaurant for our party of about 50 people, followed by a seven course dinner. An elderly man invited me to join him and four nuns for the meal; we chatted in simple English and he translated some of what the nuns said for me. I was told that before I return to the U.S. I have to gain at least 5 kilos, and that I also should become a nun so that I can come back to their convent in Indonesia and maybe visit Peru (where they have two nuns stationed right now). So I may never get the chance to be married on the edge of a cliff, after all. Who knows. </div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>The next afternoon, everyone got dressed up for Ika and Jeff's wedding reception. I was glad to finally have an appropriate outfit- a pink cotton dress- but I soon found that getting ready for the event was similar to pre-prom preparation. Everyone had silk or satin dresses, complete with blingy jewelry and fancy up-do's. I am getting too familiar with feeling out of place. We arrived at the hotel around 9:30 am and went to the ballroom where everything was decked out in hot pink. The table cloths, chair covers, flowers, and even the stripes on the cake were bright magenta. I didn't count how many tables there were, but it was a fairly large room, and there was a big T-shaped stage set up in the middle. As we got there, there were groups of dancers and singers and a 12 piece orchestra who were rehearsing on stage. All I could do was stare. We waited for several more hours while the room was set up and then pictures were taken on stage with the bride and groom. My host sister Cynthia and I sat at our table eating peanuts with chopsticks (difficult to say the least). </div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>For me, the next few hours held a once in a lifetime experience. We certainly do not throw wedding receptions like this in the U.S. A seven course meal was served, accompanied by an ongoing show complete with dance numbers, singing (both professional and not), and other fun activities. Interestingly, there were two hired hosts that talked throughout the event (it was almost all in Indonesian, so I couldn't tell what they were saying) and a videography crew that filmed the whole thing. Some parts were similar to American wedding receptions: Ika and Jeff cut the cake together (with a sword; the cake was about six feet tall and set up on a table. It had hot pink stripes and sparkles.), and they fed each other, but each one also fed cake to their parents and parents-in-law. </span>Instead of throwing out a bouquet, each newlywed had four or five single pink roses that they threw behind them. Jeffrey threw to a group of single ladies, and Ika threw them to single guys. I caught one! I was glad to find that my rose had a pink ribbon on it when I sat back down, because the pair that caught the white-ribbon roses had to go on stage and sing a Javanese song (but they both received a gift as well).</div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>There was also a first dance for the newlyweds up on stage, which ended with a dramatic kiss and an explosion of real fireworks in the back ground. I accidentally let out a little squeal and clapped my hands to my mouth at this part- I wasn't expecting the fireworks. Everything went smoothly, though I was a little worried since there were sparks bouncing off of the ceiling. Another performance where I couldn't help but smile was the serving of the first course. The waiters and waitresses filed in and set the food down in a choreographed routine (complete with a gong) to the Disney song "Be Our Guest". </span>As for the food, the menu item that I found most memorable was fish lip soup. I'm not sure what the "lips" were made of, but they looked and felt like bubbly gelatin noodles. The broth was tan, thick, and stringy (I hate to say it, but mucous-like). I added a few spoonfuls of soy sauce, and this helped immensely. </div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>Impressively, what happened next was even more alarming than the fish lip soup. I excused myself during a singing performance to go to the bathroom, and right as I was leaving the ladies' room Cynthia runs up and says "Ika wants to give you a gift!" "She wants to give everyone a gift?" I say. "No, just you" was the reply, and I was both surprised and terrified at the same time. As soon as I entered the ballroom again I was whisked onstage by the two hosts. They asked me a few questions, like where I was from (America), and what country (Minnesota. This is what everyone asks.) and then they said we were going to sing a Javanese song together. Oh boy. It turned out that I only had to say a few words, which they taught me slowly, and the hosts sang the rest. I had fun being on stage (and on camera!), but I sure was relieved when I got to head back to my seat, away from the bright lights and strange words. I still felt rather conspicuous, though, with the large, heavy gift in my hands. </div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>The reception ended with a delicious white chocolate cake and a large dancing/singing number with all the performers. I really regret not bringing my camera inside; there were so many moments that I wish I could share with you. This was, without a doubt, the most extravagant wedding reception I will ever attend in my life. And I just opened my gift a few minutes ago- it's a blender. I asked my host family if they are in need of one, but they already have two. Hopefully it can make it back to Minnesota with me. It's the only evidence I have of Ika and Jeff's reception and I am very proud of it :) </div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>We got back to Yogya pretty late last night, and everyone was exhausted. What a busy couple of days! One thing I will need to get used to is the short weekends here, since there is always school on Saturday. However tired I was this morning, though, didn't affect my great day at school. I decided I will blog more in depth once I have at least a week of classes under my belt, but so far I love it at SMKI. At long last, here is where the blog entry must come to an end- I can hear the call to prayer outside, which means it's time to get ready for bed. Good morning Minnesota. Selamat malam Yogya. </div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span></div>Andrea Willgohshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15350376515309619075noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5939675325842751098.post-30971353918722771092011-09-07T10:07:00.000+07:002011-09-07T11:37:01.898+07:00Besok Pagi<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>I've always known that I would try many new things this year in Indonesia, but I didn't think that karaoke would be one of them. Last night some of the Rotex, Pauline, and I got together and sang for about two hours straight. First, I have to explain that karaoke here isn't the same as in the U.S.- it is much less embarrassing, thankfully. The place we went to has a bunch of smallish rooms with karaoke systems that you rent out with a group, so it's a more private (and preferable) environment for belting out tunes off-key. At first, Pauline and I were both adamant that no one would want to hear us sing, but we warmed up to it after awhile, and even did a few duets together. That doesn't mean that we sounded good, though. The Rotex sang a few songs in Indonesian, one in Javanese, and I think one in Japanese, but the majority were in English, so I had plenty of opportunities to join in. (Probably too many, my throat was sore by the end.) Someone threw in the Star Spangled Banner along the way just for me, which I butchered, but with pride. We concluded with Don't Want to Miss A Thing by Aerosmith. How cheesy. <div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>Another exciting occurrence yesterday was the arrival of my new school uniform! Who knew a white shirt and long gray skirt would be So Cool. I had to give the skirts back to the tailor so she could take them out a few inches, which I had anticipated. I have a bit more hip than the average Asian school girl. Nonetheless, I felt like a million bucks strutting around in my skirt and white button up. The first-day-of-school outfit used to be a huge deal to me growing up, and so it is surprising, but refreshing, that I am stoked to be dressed exactly the same as everyone else when I make my first entrance at SMK 1 Kasihan. My initial hope was to blend in, but I've realized that that's not really feasible, so now I just hope I will find someone to sit with at lunch. Baby steps. So tomorrow will be my first day of school but also the first time I will meet my host Rotary club, Yogya Tugu. I am excited and nervous for both, but I think I'm well enough prepared. </div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>Regrettably, I feel the need to share another, not so good, landmark event in my exchange year. Last Sunday was the first time this year that I could not finish an Indonesian dish. For a long time I have prided myself in not being a picky eater; I can't remember the last time that I didn't finish a food even if I didn't particularly like it (and I have relatives who like to eat blood sausage and smoked oyster and sauerkraut pizza). However, oddly enough, it was an iced drink that brought me down, called es sambal. Basically it is a drink served in a sunday bowl with chunks of shaved ice and other things mixed in. I ordered an es campur, which had a mix of everything- chunks of fruit, avocado, and grass jelly (anise-flavored jello, I'm pretty sure). When I ordered, Vania asked me whether I wanted it sweet or sour, which I think is a question of whether or not you want coconut milk in it. I ordered sweet, but I didn't think it tasted that way at all. The taste reminded me of when my neighbor came back from Finland a long time ago and gave me some Finnish "candy" that was actually salty black gumdrops. I fished out all the fruit/jelly chunks, those weren't so bad, but I felt just awful letting the rest sit there- one thing I have noticed about Indonesians is that everyone always cleans their plate. And not to my surprise, I was the only one not to finish my es sambal. Oh, I hope that never happens again. And I hope I never have to taste anything like an es campur again, either. </div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>At this point in time, my thoughts are directed entirely on my first day of school. I have almost everything I need, and Vania, my host mom and I are going out later this afternoon to get some school supplies. Tomorrow I will start school at 8:20 am with a Javanese Putri dance class, followed by a 30 minute istirahat (recess), two classes in a row of a dance called Alus, another 20 minute istirahat, and finally another dance class (I'm not sure what the third type is called, so I'll let you know in a few days) which ends at 2:30. I have to change classrooms for each class, so Di mana ini? Where is this? will be a useful phrase throughout the next week or two. I looked at a map of Yogya yesterday, and Vania pointed out where we lived and where my school was. It is, quite literally, on the complete opposite side of the city. I have a feeling that with my combination of nerves and excitement, it will seem like an especially long car ride tomorrow morning. Wish me luck. :)</div>Andrea Willgohshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15350376515309619075noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5939675325842751098.post-32184928479035786972011-09-02T07:56:00.000+07:002011-09-02T12:07:41.735+07:00Tinggi<div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>I think it is safe to say that I look very big compared to Indonesians. Most of the time I don't notice how much taller I am than everyone else, but in some situations I am painfully aware. For example, I went shopping with Vania several days ago at the mall. I was in a department store and I picked out a shirt to buy, and the sales lady looks at the shirt and goes, "This is a size 8, like a small. But we have bigger sizes in back". I politely declined and didn't think much of it, until I went to look at another, smaller store. Vania told the worker that I was looking for T-shirts, and she started pulling up Larges from a table nearby. Ugh. I took the shirt and held it up to me to show her that it was way too big, and then grabbed another small to buy. Only when I got home did I realize that she sold me a men's shirt.</div><div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>So I wore my new shirt to the beach on Tuesday; it was a little roomy but very comfortable. The trip was Vania, three of her friends, and I crammed into a little car and hurtling down winding mountain roads for over an hour. Thankfully I didn't get car sick, but I sure was relieved when we finally arrived. (I learned on the way there that a good portion of teenage drivers in Indonesia don't have their license yet). The beach was very steep, and the water was cold! I have been told many times that no one actually swims near Yogya because there are dangerous undercurrents, and I understood that perfectly when I got there because the water got deep very fast. Despite my best efforts to stay clean and dry, I ended up soaking wet with sand all over. As far as I have seen, the female swimsuit doesn't really exist here- the women just play in the ocean with all their clothes on, while men have the same type of swim trunks that we have in the states.</div><div>
<br /></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMlgXP8iQG09IwvHWq53hucSrxqAo7jPW2g9X45DRiy_ZbQ11EHsHIWoEiOP-CDbKTX_ZIYrguOYF2fumK-ZRHqEDMqGp44Em0kjQznxZMScTADhE6_SZClqeuNXKK3Lwpsg6X45rBoUI/s1600/P8290281.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMlgXP8iQG09IwvHWq53hucSrxqAo7jPW2g9X45DRiy_ZbQ11EHsHIWoEiOP-CDbKTX_ZIYrguOYF2fumK-ZRHqEDMqGp44Em0kjQznxZMScTADhE6_SZClqeuNXKK3Lwpsg6X45rBoUI/s320/P8290281.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5647592376785732178" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></a></div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>After wading and relaxing for awhile, we got in the car and drove a short way to another beach to eat. This beach was more like a cove, and was much more crowded. There were a bunch of boats parked on the sand and kites for sale. Some small restaurants were situated just past the sand (the beaches here are pretty short) where we sat down and ordered our lunch. Instead of waiting for our food, we decided to climb up the hill on the side of the beach to do some sight seeing.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#000000;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); "><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg45D8o04C5F1qgzSA7CZfJHHFL8EMGRWseOrb8EadPcSiqcHmv9jslu9LBsxuuPgP43713SQTLo3pQtIVyHmiNqDTLTXssUL-BcENE0ujcUEKmi4bIK1-i7-9Ud7NB5u3IPtmUhW0ku5Y/s320/P8290286.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5647608322752228258" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>Oh, I wish you had been there. The hike was tiring, but the view was breathtaking. We walked out to the very edge of the cliff, far past where the beach-goers were below. There was another outcropping next to us that went further out to see, and there was just a small red-roofed house right at the top of the cliff. Admittedly, I immediately thought "I want to get married there". We'll see. There was a rickety metal tower (some sort of signal tower?) that you could climb, but we only made it to the first landing. The tower was swaying in the wind, and the ladder was pretty rusty, but the view was great. I took some pictures, but I'm not a good enough photographer to capture what it was like to actually be up there. It was beautiful! In addition to the amazing view, there was a strong ocean breeze to cool you off, and the sound of waves crashing into the cliff below. It seemed perfect, but I couldn't stay up there forever because I was also very hungry. Back at the restaurant I drank out of my first coconut and ate fish and squid with rice. </div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); "><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgn2JE9PTRK1ZStI2otBY-GZrI6HIDtZl05S86deV-_82vRHAF9A9lUWjjizGkrPXcOwMPvDWoCXB0ebpHt0NCYq91ywLXXNDcmfE870nVX3Z69MsgorAglVqmmoK8sb3VtlXjmo04bD7k/s320/P8290311.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5647608316345982674" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px; " /></span></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCGnoMaw_aMyHwg2SlcxS95jPxjTt0AntK-zNdpwp9YuWyzu5_Gx_fUik-APsubzzTiIYmJGEzP3Xh-5LK-KS5GhKpyqSzq0gPHPXUNzK45TnX6uaKttYsd-_WAd6ClvNRRH7k9mKsyxg/s320/P8290305.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5647608319453349074" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></span><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>In order to get home that night, Vania and I rode on motorcycles with two of her friends. As part of the orientation projects, I had put "Ride on a motorcycle through busy traffic" on my to-do list for my exchange year. I'm not sure if that would have made the list after I saw how people drive in Yogya.. My stomach was in a knot the whole time, and I definitely closed my eyes for some of the ride- particularly when we were passing a bus or a truck- but I arrived safe and well. What a day.</div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>Later that night, most of the Yogya Rotex and Pauline and I went to the airport to greet the two inbounds from Brazil, Paulinho and Julia. They were two of the four inbounds from Brazil who all got to be on the same flight to Jakarta, where two were dropped off, and then they (Paulo and Julia) flew to Yogya together. I am glad Julia is close to my height :) After they arrived, we met Paulinho's greeting party at a Chinese restaurant in a hotel nearby. For Paulinho's first meal in Indonesia everyone was using chopsticks, and he was a little lost. Thankfully someone got him a fork somewhere along the way. Now we are just waiting for Megan from Florida (she comes in a few days I believe) and then all of the Yogya inbounds will be here. </div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: normal; color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMwthxo1KSUJVs2IkIEEmbYupd3FlbV78X13dGK6vpMcTQ_X1wynsbCKOkF66fkwhhYF51sIW-cTTBOv9JPNlSvbl_reMd7dHX-ymW0YLiMFFxT8FGE9hlPMLgncu5M3s6Nbn7g2Ni8gs/s320/P8300318.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5647608326336380786" style="text-align: left; display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></span></span><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> <span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>Pauline, Me, Paulinho, and Julia</span></div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre">
<br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"></span><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>On Wednesday, I went bowling with Pauline, Dika, Gabe, and Anton (Rotex). It was the hottest day since I have arrived, but I bowled a pretty average game (73) for me, anyways. After our game, we were going to get some ice cream in Malioboro, a traditional market here in town, but it was super packed because it was the end of Idul Fitri and Yogya is very crowded and busy during this time. Instead we went to pick up Qia and Wibi (Rotex) and went to the mall for some sushi. Wibi went on an exchange to Japan a few years ago and he put so much wasabi on his sushi, I was tearing up just looking at it. My favorite part of the day was when we went out for coffee afterward at a pretty basic coffee house. I had teh tarik, "pulled tea", which is tea and milk (I think?) mixed together by pouring it back and forth between two cups (but it looks more impressive than I can describe it). It was very good. We all played a card game similar to poker (I was not good at all) and chatted until about 10 pm. Gabe told Pauline and I about how Yogya is known for it's close group of Rotex., and that's why Indonesia's Rebound Orientation has been held in Yogya for the past 5 years. It has been really nice being able to see the city with the Rotex here- they all make time for us inbounds even with school and their jobs. I really enjoy the time I spend with them- they teach us bahasa Indonesia but also can explain things in English. I am glad I got placed in Yogya.</div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>Finally, yesterday I went to Gabe's house with Vania, Pauline, and Anton, where we played a card game called Citadel for a long time. Gabe's house was very traditional, and wonderful! I fell in love. Right in the center of the lot is a living room, I suppose, but it is more like a enormous gazebo made of wood with a thatched roof and a raised, tiled floor. There are no walls, of course. It was perfect for enjoying the good weather and hanging out with friends. Other than that, there are several smaller buildings surrounding the living area which are each single bedrooms (for the family members), and a kitchen. There is no air conditioning, but I would live there in a heartbeat. For dinner, we decided to drive to a Pantai Depok, a different beach from where I went before. When we got there we went straight to a fresh seafood market that was right on the sand, and we ordered dinner. Five cakalang fish (about the size of a perch), two cumi (squid), two ikan putih (white fish, rather small) and a bag of shrimp was 130.000 rp (twelve dollars). A man then took our fish to a restaurant to be cooked. To eat, we took off our shoes (like everywhere in Indonesia) and sat on the floor at low tables in an open restaurant. Two bats kept flying in and out while we were eating. The cakalang was absolutely delicious- it had been honey grilled and might just be my favorite meal so far in Indonesia. Everything is cooked or fried whole, which is still a bit weird to see, but I successfully peeled a shrimp using a fork and spoon which made me pretty proud. </div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); "><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgu3N9s5bXecJKe6SFUXiZVR5k6IlF6yVaxHDKaCwWWSz571ckZzLXaQ_poIBtGsye7PpEtXu9UlMwwcpi3YTbzayrNitBqqNHd_oqLSVJQ6xjKihho3wpmVhJEssbsQ1iIjW5Kda67nR0/s320/P9010319.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5647608334360736018" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; ">
<br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgs7D4WkWPRjYgGN117k_hxcEtZyTWyiEBfGmqBuev6H_vQZSho8q2v9FE3ugKOfQ_mq5QgHI2-FsRUpIJGjPEEb_vtfA5WBHxyIwivMH_SgTsVVXTLeta9VGVJjK5yqV-SkHhKgQSXFwA/s320/P9010320.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5647621611216215058" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></span><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; ">The bucket is full of pieces of sting ray</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre">
<br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEja274yE3deMfPzPqBsivCaMqA-LmeVIkUhi72BhQdZp-wiQ0TxWJHDZ8frDD5v96eLYBPOcbPrudPXl5q01XIxP0RjBoJq68wSIyiXCTeamo4mPlX-xgRyT-exuVMFowp7tLaNW70AQu4/s320/P9010327.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5647621611963661538" style="text-align: left;display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></span><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> <span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>The cakalang is in the middle, ikan puti on the right</span></div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre">
<br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"></span><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>After dinner, we went to check out the beach. The sun had set before we even arrived, so I could barely see where I was going between the black sand, black sky, and since most of the restaurant stands around us were already closed. The stars were amazing. It was odd that the market and the beach could be so busy and crowded during the day, but then at night all the lights turn off and it is so quiet and peaceful. This was my first "I could stay here forever" feeling in Indonesia. We stood for awhile looking at the sky while Gabe talked about how we all will have to come back sometime to eat hammerhead shark head (!) and sting ray, and maybe stay overnight at a restaurant (they will set up a bed and breakfast sort of thing if you ask). Again, I am so thankful to be in Yogya. Gabe was talking during dinner about how everyone who comes to Indonesia wants to stay in Bali, which is beautiful, but Yogya has beaches and mountains too, and is much cheaper. Not to mention we have the great Rotex program.</div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>So finally, I am feeling like Yogya could be my home for the next 11 months or so. I still have a lot to learn and adapt to, but I am so lucky to be where I am. School starts in six days! I am getting progressively more nervous, but excited as well for the change of pace and the learning experience. I am fully prepared to be the tallest kid in the class. The back row is suitable for my beginner's status, anyways. </div><div>
<br /></div><div>With love, from Indonesia! </div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span></div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span></div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span> </div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span></div></div>Andrea Willgohshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15350376515309619075noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5939675325842751098.post-49566357424161214832011-08-27T14:45:00.000+07:002011-08-27T16:20:20.838+07:00Kraton dan Teh Poci<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimA-pqOhXO98CVhnTWquPEv9eJ2VI2yd2ZnonFq5fZ3YK6ylDlhDSAKm-FCTuhEEEScws-bU6SVPtdUGDl69xv8nhpSCIjArvaBs6zTzKj6-dEj5uqTa0NAAr6QWfH-VdjkRwFvLzPg4I/s320/P8260279.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5645454847634081730" />
<br /><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>Kaliurang </div><div>
<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrpvSCQpmo-fuPdtLAF3fSavKYIQd8J-qhT-YfH8BL5AVw9_A6gBSo8vpf2-PfelC_c5isllBIt_aP-db2sP4r4DbqvQ5BSJXNxbZWFfLxFO-3NeWjQdW3LkZArttanwXeTLzd3hC9sWw/s1600/P8260277.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"></a><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrpvSCQpmo-fuPdtLAF3fSavKYIQd8J-qhT-YfH8BL5AVw9_A6gBSo8vpf2-PfelC_c5isllBIt_aP-db2sP4r4DbqvQ5BSJXNxbZWFfLxFO-3NeWjQdW3LkZArttanwXeTLzd3hC9sWw/s1600/P8260277.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="text-align: left;display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrpvSCQpmo-fuPdtLAF3fSavKYIQd8J-qhT-YfH8BL5AVw9_A6gBSo8vpf2-PfelC_c5isllBIt_aP-db2sP4r4DbqvQ5BSJXNxbZWFfLxFO-3NeWjQdW3LkZArttanwXeTLzd3hC9sWw/s320/P8260277.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5645450486138171266" /></a><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span> My family and I in Kraton</span></div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre;">
<br /></span><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQMpLLWG58PgOJGygEnSsaU4ipTBAPNQ2PFD8qRRRPPPu02qkTwf27pQvmfzNML9IZCIJC_I2d7rzlbVv6a4adXJAGQwYUByAPojyCp0DtF_X3U4FlWRabKXAcSnNL4yGAm4Y5KqYkn8c/s1600/P8250250.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQMpLLWG58PgOJGygEnSsaU4ipTBAPNQ2PFD8qRRRPPPu02qkTwf27pQvmfzNML9IZCIJC_I2d7rzlbVv6a4adXJAGQwYUByAPojyCp0DtF_X3U4FlWRabKXAcSnNL4yGAm4Y5KqYkn8c/s320/P8250250.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5645447667375215314" /></a><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span></div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span> Traditional</span> batik
<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZOFqX_UC78Q85jat_qDiYI_oGtXAhWs_67jML9PokSd1WiYcizsDHc8v_WD9R95EG4J-mqxJirS0G_9PQojm7qgfFEwin4Ytr4ozY0WUxJhClsl8YcHpGc3Y2O-04H-rwzULKLuDS7OQ/s1600/P8260273.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}">
<br /><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZOFqX_UC78Q85jat_qDiYI_oGtXAhWs_67jML9PokSd1WiYcizsDHc8v_WD9R95EG4J-mqxJirS0G_9PQojm7qgfFEwin4Ytr4ozY0WUxJhClsl8YcHpGc3Y2O-04H-rwzULKLuDS7OQ/s320/P8260273.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5645446352610958386" /></a><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span></div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"></span><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span> Wayang kulit puppet<div>
<br /><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"></span><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>Yesterday I got the chance to visit the part of Yogya where the king lives, called Kraton. We hired two pedicabs to drive my host mom, sisters, and I around the area. First, we visited a small shop where there were two women making traditional batik fabric. Batik is made by a process of dying fabric with wax patterns, and it is very complicated. Almost all of the batik in stores around town nowadays are actually stamped on, because it is much faster and easier. Also, the batik that is available in the U.S. is very different from the batik here, which has much more detailed and often geometric patters. In the shop, we could watch the two women draw the batik pattern with black, heated wax on plain white fabric (before being dyed), and we also got to look at finished pieces. I bought a batik of Rama and Sinta- the Indonesian versions of Romeo and Juliet (but their story has a happy ending, I was told)- which were drawn in the style of the wayang kulit puppets. <div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>Wayang kulit is a traditional "puppet show" where flat, leather figures are used to tell a mythological story. Usually they have shortened performances going on in Kraton, but they were closed the day we were there. Traditional shows start in the evening and go all night long, and I'm pretty sure they performed in some language other than Indonesian. Maybe Javanese. While in Kraton, however, we got to see how wayang kulit puppets were made. They start as pieces of buffalo leather, and then holes are punched with a hammer and nail to make the character. It takes five days to complete a puppet. </div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>We also took a spin through the royal carriage house where they displayed the old horse carriages for the royal family. There were pictures of old parades where the carriages were used and, what I thought was most interesting, a table of old rupiah notes. Way at the bottom, there was a bill for 2 and a half rupiah, which seems impossibly small compared to current prices (and odd that they wouldn't just round it up to 3?). I wish I would have asked when that bill was in use. </div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>In addition to these places, the pedicabs also dropped us off at several batik and souvenir shops. Unfortunately, the palace was closed the day that we went there, so we are planning on going back sometime to see that, and possibly take advantage of a basic traditional batik class that they offer in Kraton as well. </div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>Last night I was able to visit a park in the north of Yogya called Kaliurang. Vania and I met up with some Rotex and Pauline, from Belgium, and we all drove up in one car (very packed, since there were seven of us). Before we left, I have to add, we were all sitting at a street vendor table and eating spicy potato chips that one of the Rotex got from Bandung. To me, they were comparable to Flaming Hot Cheetos in the U.S., but more lemony, and very good. Tiga, the Rotex who brought them, said that they were only a 5 on a scale of 10 for spiciness, and that if you get the highest level the chips are all black. Ghost chilies, maybe? Vania and I decided that we have to get a bag of our own sometime, but a level 7 or something.</div><div> <span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>Anyways, once we were at the park, we went to a cafe where we all sat on pads on the floor and ordered drinks. I had teh poci, which is a bitter tea served in a small clay teapot and cup. I was glad to get a hot drink because I was actually pretty cold with a short sleeved shirt and jeans on. Kaliurang is on a plateau at a higher elevation than the rest of Yogya, which is why it has cooler weather, but I never thought I'd ever need a sweatshirt in Indonesia. Anyways, my tea was served with two big chunks of brown rock sugar which would dissolve slowly into the tea, so whenever I was nearing the end of my cup the tea would be all sweet, syrupy, and delicious. I think I could drink it every day. Apparently Kaliurang is very close to Merapi, that volcano that erupted last year, but we couldn't see it because it was too dark out when we got there. We sat there for a long time playing a crazy name game and ping pong pang (both of which I was pretty good at, I must add) before we left to get some bubur. We drove to a hotel restaurant where there is a 24 hour bubur buffet for only 20.000 rp (about two dollars and fifty cents). I think I could eat bubur every day, too. </div></div></div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>So Friday was my big day for the week. Every other day I usually spent at home studying Indonesian or running quick errands with Vania. We were having trouble getting a KITAS for me, which is an I.D. sort of thing for foreigners. At first, they were going to charge us 2.5 million rp, which was crazy expensive, but when we got to Immigrasi to pick up the forms, we found it was only 700.000. Then when we returned with all the papers filled out they wouldn't process them because the letter from the Yogya Tugu Rotary club wasn't stamped. This was a small problem, because the Tugu club didn't even have a stamp- it's only 22 people. Somehow, we got it figured out and I should be receiving my KITAS soon. For now, I am looking forward to the 30th when the Rotex, Pauline, Vania and I will go pick up Paulinho (Brazil) from the airport. </div></div></div></div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>My countdown to school is now 12 days. New phrases I have learned in bahasa Indonesia include: Saya tidak tahu apa artinya (I don't know what this means), Tolonglah saya (please help me), and Terima kasih telah menerima saya di sini (thank you for having me here - preparation for my first Rotary meeting). I'm still a little nervous, but I am ready to get busy dancing and studying Indonesian and Javanese. Oh, and one last thing- they have Glee here and my host siblings love to watch it, too. Life is good. </div>Andrea Willgohshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15350376515309619075noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5939675325842751098.post-24131838650669672832011-08-23T09:26:00.000+07:002011-08-23T10:10:14.286+07:00Sekolah Aku<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>Yesterday morning, I went with Vania to visit my school SMK Kasihan. We got a short tour from the teacher who knew the most English, and I was able to watch a few classes. The dancers were so good! I hope I will learn fast. There were about 12 people in each dance class; one was all girls and the other was co-ed. The movements were so exact, it was mesmerizing. There were different positions for the fingers, and moves where they only tilted their heads in a certain way. The first thing I think I'll have to work on is bending my fingers back- I tried to curve my fingers like they do but they don't go very far... I hope a lot of stretching will do the trick. I also saw a few gamelan classes. The type of gamelan that I will be learning is called karawitan, and it looked even more difficult to do than the dancing. Gamelan is different from any type of music I've ever heard, and I couldn't pick up any sort of rhythm to it. So that will certainly be a challenge to learn. After the tour, we went back to the office and I got my schedule. As of now, I am taking three different dance classes, Javanese, Javanese singing, Indonesian, and karawitan. The singing, Indonesian, and Javanese classes will only be once a week, and so three days a week I will be dancing all day. Wish me luck :) I am set to start on Sept. 8, when all the students get back from break. <div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>Before leaving, I got a bag of cloth to make my uniform with. I will have two long sleeve, collared white shirts, two grey skirts, a batik short sleeve collared shirt, and a black skirt to match. The batik uniform is for Friday and Saturday. I'm so glad I have to wear a uniform! Then maybe I can look more like everyone else- I feel really tall and American wherever I go these days. My host mother said she will call a tailor to the house to take measurements soon.</div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>This morning, I had my first Indonesian lesson from my host mother, with the occasional help from Vania. My pronunciation is awful. Bahasa Indonesia may use the same alphabet as English, but the sounds are not similar at all. Sometimes we will repeat words back and forth until I say it somewhat right, but most of the time they just laugh at my attempts. I'm sure I sound really odd. But we will continue lessons every morning, Ibu said, which is great. I only have two weeks to prepare before I have to go to school. Setiap pagi, saya mempelajari bahasa. Every morning I practice the language. Dan setiap hari, and every day, I will get better. </div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span></div>Andrea Willgohshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15350376515309619075noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5939675325842751098.post-74999366546081509252011-08-21T20:27:00.000+07:002013-11-29T10:53:09.245+07:00Selamat Datang!<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Somehow, it is 8:30 pm and I am ready to go to bed. After about 34 hours of traveling, though, it's no wonder I'm still jet lagged. When I finally landed in Yogya and saw my host family and other Rotarians waiting outside of the baggage claim to pick me up, I just about cried. I was so happy to see people who knew who I was! It was also comforting to know that I could relax and start enjoying my exchange. <br />
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<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>I am living in Yogyakarta, a city of about 3 million people. Bapak Hadono, my host father, told me yesterday that I will be attending a cultural arts school for the year. Apparently I will be able to take classes in traditional Indonesian dances, pottery, batik, and traditional musical instruments, which I am very excited for. Not so exciting, however, is that school starts at 6:30 every morning, and goes until 3. If only I can keep this routine of going to bed early, waking up shouldn't be a problem. I also know that I'll be keeping busy since school goes Monday through Saturday. My host sister, Vania, and I are going to visit my school tomorrow so that I can get the feel of what it's like, and I will officially start in the middle of September (when students get back from the after-Ramadhan break).</div>
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<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>When I think of interesting things to blog about, my mind always drifts towards the food I have had. Right after I was picked up from the airport, my welcoming committee and I went out to lunch at a place near the airport. Dishes were shared by the whole table, and I ate fried chicken, chicken liver, and tempeh with my hands! It was awesome. Ever since, though, I have had to work on eating with a fork in my left hand and a spoon in my right, which has been a small challenge. Today I ate a very strange looking fruit for dessert after lunch. Next time I see it I will take a picture because it doesn't look like a fruit at all- more like a cross between a strawberry and a pinecone. You have to take off the outer shell first, and on the inside it looks like a shiny peeled garlic clove, but tastes very sweet. Earlier in the day, after we got done shopping at the supermarket, we stopped for ice cream bars. I asked for the same thing as Vania, which was ice cream cone crust shaped like a fish and filled with vanilla ice cream and what looked like a layer of fruit jelly. I asked Vania "Is this strawberry?" and she said "No, it's kidney beans". Surprise. (I still thought it tasted good.) For dinner tonight, we went to an Italian restaurant. We shared two different pizzas and pasta dishes, all were delicious, but everything was very spicy (even the pasta sauce). Over dinner, my family started to teach me a little bahasa Indonesia, and so I learned makanan pedas (spicy food) and sangat enak (very good). I have heard that bahasa Indonesia is easy for English-speakers to learn, but so far I am lost.<br />
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Selamat malam, for now! Good night!</div>
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Andrea Willgohshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15350376515309619075noreply@blogger.com1