A few mishaps never hurt anyone...

It is Thursday morning, about 11:30 and I am sitting in my living room with the fan on full blast. I am trying to acclimate my body to the temperature rather than staying holed up in my air-conditioned bedroom. So far I've wiped at least 483 drips of sweat from my forehead so I'd say I'm well on my way. I decided not to go into work today, as there really isn't much there for me to do yet. The English Department is a frenzy of people running in and out, speaking such fast Indonesian that my head spins. I also had a visitor around 9. The RELO Assistant from the U.S. Embassy (Dian) came to check in on me and inspect my living conditions. She was far from pleased, to say the least. Apparently the house is not clean enough, according to her standards (Oh, thank God!) and she was on the phone immediately. Before I knew it the head of the English Department and another lecturer were at the front door, greeted by Dian, then led on a tour as she pointed out all of the areas that needed cleaning. Yikes!

Over the last few days I have successfully been to the grocery store, joined a gym and purchased a few necessary household items. But not without a few mishaps along the way. Security stopped me on my into the market and put a temporary lock on my backpack in order to keep me from shoplifting. Good thing. When I got to the cashier and went for my wallet, I realized that it was locked inside my backpack. Awesome. As the line behind me was staring, I tried to explain to the woman about the lock. If she could just remove the lock, I could pay for my groceries! My lack of Indonesian and her lack of English immediately prompted her to call over the manager. This peaked the curiosity of security. Here they came, too. All I could think of was Claire Danes in Brokedown Palace. I was drafting my letter to Bill Clinton, asking his help with being released from an Indonesian prison, when the manager asked what the problem was. Oh, thank God! He spoke a few words of English and I was able to explain my situation. Everyone started laughing as they removed the lock and I reached for my wallet. This story would be a lot funnier if I had opened my wallet to no money though, right? That didn't happen. I paid, then rushed out the door and into a taxi.

20 minutes prior...

I was reprimanded (at the same market) for not using a plastic bag to pick up eggs from the egg crate. Ummm... excuse me? Really? REALLY? It's not as though anyone eats the shells! And last I looked, the guy over there behind the hot counter dishing up fried rice just picked his nose! Thirty seconds later I am reprimanded again for trying to leave the produce section with my plastic bag of eggs. What now??? What have I done? The lady who is stacking the apples is speaking to me so quickly and pointing her finger in some sort of direction... I. Have. No. Clue. When she realizes that my blank stare is no joke she approaches me, takes my bag of eggs (Nooooo!!!), and leads me towards a scale. A scale? All of this for a scale? And who weighs eggs, anyway? Can't you just charge me by the egg? Unbelievable.

Lastly, I leave you with this. Who moves to Indonesia without packing 1) Calamine or Hydrocortizone cream for mosquito bites and 2) some sort of medicine that you can take in order to kill the bacteria or parasites that are fighting a vicious battle in your stomach (If you could see me, you'd know that my hand is raised.)? Clearly NOT ME. So now I look like I have the measles on my face and my stomach is running a muck, just as it did when I returned home from 6 weeks in Mexico (Kellen, are you reading this? Battery acid...).

I hope that you are well and happy. I fly to Bali next Tuesday and anticipate an amazing adventure. Until then...

Be well. Eat well. Love honestly.

Noreen