To Poop, or Not To Poop...

A few students playing some music on campus

Today marks October 24. It was a little over two months ago that I embarked on this journey. What a whirlwind it has been! I have just completed week 5 at the University and am up to my ears in student essays and scholarship recommendation letters. I adore these kids, though. There's something about their willingness and sincere appreciation that helps me realize why I chose the path I did. Over the past three weeks I have been the Keynote speaker at a National Seminar (I know right? Really?), been on television twice (I'm channeling my inner Jennifer Aniston) and hiked to the top of one of the most beautiful mountains in the world. Do I get homesick from time to time? Of course. Do I feel lonely every once in a while? Most definitely. But this time, more than any other, I feel good about what I'm doing. I feel like I'm making progress as a human, as an educator, and even as a leader. Alright, enough sappy stuff...

Friends on top of Gunung Merbabu

Have you ever been told specifically not to poop? I imagine not. I mean, it's not something that would normally be forbidden. For someone like me, this is similar to telling a child not to take a cookie from the cookie jar. Once you tell them no, they immediately grab! When you tell me not to poop, my stomach automatically does a reverse flip and sends me flying to the nearest facility. Keep reading. An explanation will follow. I was lucky enough to meet some amazing people over the last few weeks and two weekends ago was invited on a camping trip. I was over the moon with excitement for so many different reasons. I was getting out of the busy city and into nature with an incredible group of people who have taken me under their wings. On top of that, we were hiking! It's always nice to exercise outside of the gym (Although the Spin instructor had me at hello... What is it about them?). We left early Saturday morning and split up into three different cars. In my car on the way to the mountain it was my friend Ina who explained the four basic rules to the mountain, which were established over time in order to preserve its sacred value. 1) No Curse Words. Well, shit. 2) No Complaining. Okay. I've worked for Nike Tennis long enough to be able to follow this one well. 3) No Sex. Ha! Who in the world am I gonna break this rule with? One of the mountain goats? I'm not quite desperate enough for bestiality... at least not yet... 4) No Pooping. Oh, dear God. Turn around and take me home. I can't go! At the sound of this my morning coffee and corn flakes immediately lit up... and they already wanted out. I kept my sudden urge to myself and simply said a little prayer to the Poop God and asked that he hike with me that weekend... for the sake of the sacred mountain.

The view from the summit of Merbabu

We left base camp around 11 am Saturday morning and set out on a 5 hour climb up. We had an amazing group of porters with us who did a fantastic job of paving the way, finding the drinkable mountain water, acting as our security and transporting most of our equipment up the mountain, all the while smoking Marlboro Reds. Their stamina is unmatched. The climb was grueling, but very worth it. The views were breathtaking, the company great and the fresh air a relief. We reached our camp site around 4pm and set up shop. Ina had warned me that the weather would be cool. I figured that cool in Indonesia though, was maybe jeans and a sweatshirt. By 5 pm I was bundled up by the fire wearing two pairs of pants, four pairs of socks, a t-shirt, sweatshirt, jacket and a pair of gloves. We barbequed sausages that night and sat around the fire as Phil played the ukulele and everyone took their turn singing harmony. I could have sat there forever. My friend Vero and I shared a tent together and slept on and off for a few hours that night, struggling to keep warm and finding a comfortable position on the ground. By 5 am we were back up and drinking hot chocolate (I would have enjoyed some coffee but was fearful of rule 4. So far the Poop God had worked in my favor.). We left the campsite around 6 am in pursuit of the summit. An hour later we were enjoying the remarkable views from the top of Gunung Merbabu, something I'd never in a million years thought I'd be doing. It was the perfect way to spend a weekend. We returned to our campsite, enjoyed some breakfast, then began our descent.

Ina and I enjoying a little rest

Our incredible porters who carried this load all the way up

The view from our camp site

I also had the opportunity to (finally) take in some of the sites and sounds of Semarang. Although I live here, it's been hard to find the time and opportunities to really explore. Friends Wulan and Lestari, along with Pak Muntholib, the favorite of the university drivers, picked me up last Sunday morning for a day of sight-seeing. We traveled around the entire city, visiting a Chinese Temple (wait, aren't I in Indonesia???), Masjid Agung, the largest mosque in all of Central Java, an outdoor fish market, a coconut juice hut and a Hindu Temple above the city that overlooks all of Semarang. It was the perfect way to spend a Sunday and learn a little more about the city.

Masjid Agung

The inside of Masjid Agung

The view from the tower above Masjid Agung

Another view from the tower

The center of Semarang

A young coconut, being prepared for consumption

An outdoor fish market

These poor goats. They're about to be sold and turned into someone's dinner. I miss Fred.

Another somewhat exciting piece of this journey has been my participation on RELAX. I was asked by the RELO office in Jakarta to take part in a television program here in Central Java. Every Thursday the local television station airs an English Debate program designed for high school and university students to come and debate about an assigned topic. Topics have included sending Indonesians abroad to work, giving money to homeless people on the street, and giving condoms to "sex workers". I sit on stage and offer feedback and comments to each side, mostly praising them for their efforts. After commercial breaks, each school has a musical act who performs. Students come out and either sing a song or perform a choreographed dance. My first Thursday (in the picture above) I had the pleasure of listening to a young girl sing Right Here Waiting For You by Richard Marx. Okay, really? Do they not know my history with that song? Every time I hear it I get misty eyed and think back to my very first slow dance... at Nike Tennis Camp with a boy named Brian. My second Thursday there I was treated to a rendition of Bryan Adams' I'd Die for You from the movie Robin Hood. I could barely control the emotion. Angie, it took every muscle in my soul not to tear up and run off the stage for the nearest phone to call home to you. Jeezhus! After taping is over there is always a mad frenzy from each school to have their picture taken with me. It makes me giggle, really.

There I am, center stage on local television. So funny!

Other highlights include my amazing co-workers and friends, who keep the table in the office stocked with food and snacks. I've made some great friends from all over the world who I look forward to getting to know better. I take my vitamins everyday, get to the gym at least 5 times a week (partially because I'm in love with the Spin Instructor, but that's a different story) and have successfully tried all kinds of different Indonesian dishes.

Some great friends and co-workers, Pak Abu, Pak Arida, and Ibu Cristine
One of the many amazing dishes that Ibu Cristine brought for us all to enjoy
New friends, Janine from New Zealand and Beth from Ohio

On that note, I am off to dance around my little house, all alone, in celebration of the Giant's JUST clinching their spot in the World Series. I am so grateful that European ESPN is airing the games... Giant's, baby! GIANTS! Hummmmm baby!

Until next post...

Be well.

Noreen

October has arrived

Two weeks of teaching in Indonesia are officially down in the history books. I often wake up and wonder if I'm actually here or if this all just a dream. It's hard to believe that October is already upon us. There are a few things that have made me somewhat nostalgic while welcoming the new month. For one, I was unable to see our Beloved Britney make her comeback on Glee Tuesday night. It made my Wednesday morning a little rough. While attempting to listen diligently to my students speak about the most important person in their lives, I couldn't help but wonder whether or not Britney was singing one of her old classics like Baby One More Time or keeping it current with something like 3. I wondered whether or not you could see her hair extensions or if she sang a duet with Mr. Scheuster. My biggest concern really, was whether or not she did well and that the writers paid enough homage to her. These things are important, you know? And how about those San Francisco Giants? What a run! It's painful not having the option to even watch the highlights on ESPN. Come playoff time, I'll be putting myself up in an international hotel for a few nights where I can watch the games, no doubt.

Classes went well this week. My students are young and bright-eyed and eager for more. I can't help but giggle when they remind me their names. Seksi and Titis were partners the other day and I couldn't help but add Mala (bad, in Spanish) to their group, more for my own entertainment than anything else. For two days in a row, every student that walked through my classroom door had done their homework, which is unheard of, really. I mean, when was the last time a teacher collected completed assignments from every single student in the classroom, even if they were absent the week prior? Amazing, really. They blew my mind.

The University campus is an older one. There is a new one being built that will be ready for us to move into by January. Everyone is looking forward to the move, as it is located on a hill above the city among all kinds of greenery and on a lot of acreage. It's beautiful, really. Monday afternoon we celebrated the completion of the Humanities building and traveled to the new school together as a department for a what I thought would be a small gathering. When I walked in however, there were people everywhere, all wearing their finest Batik. Yikes. I looked down and realized that I was wearing a sweaty pair of navy blue pants on which I had spilled yogurt earlier. God. Of course. I spotted a familiar English teacher who waved and motioned for me to join them. Thank God. She introduced me to her peers and explained that this was a very typical celebration here in Indonesia. Once a new building is complete, you bless it before you use it. The blessing is a party consisting of prayers, food, music and then more food. Everyone was speaking Bahasa Indonesia so all I could really offer was a smile and lots of nodding. Once the ceremony began we all took our seats on the floor and sat and listened to each speaker. Twenty minutes later and not a single word understood, I hear my name spoken into the microphone. Crap! The woman next to me nudged my arm and whispered to stand up. Ummmm, okay. Next thing I know the gentleman with the microphone is asking me to sing Michael Jackson's You Are Not Alone. Pardon me? I politely declined, then was asked again. "No thank you", I said. "I'm really sorry ". Cricket... Cricket... I looked back at the gentleman and apologized again, then took my seat, ears on fire and heart pumping. The woman a few people down offered to sing and belted out a rousing rendition of the first few lines, then gave up because she didn't know the rest of the words. I felt bad. Really, really bad. Soon thereafter the food portion of the celebration began, something that I am much better at participating in than singing. Everyone was handing me something different to try. I happily accepted, and soon found myself unable to balance the plethora of delights in my two hands. In one word I can describe this part of the afternoon: Delicious. "Oh, Miss Noreen, have some more". Never one to turn down seconds I ate until the party was over. We had rice, vegetables, chicken soup, coconut juice, fresh papaya. The only minor consequence came the next morning, when everyone in the office was giggling, explaining that they had yet to see someone eat so much. Really? REALLY? How little they know me...

I'll end this post with an explanation of something that I mentioned earlier. I asked my Upper Intermediate Speaking students to come to class this week prepared to talk about the most important and influential person in their lives. They did a fantastic job. One student spoke about Raphael Nadal and explained what an inspiration he was to her and her aspiration to work in the world of fitness. Another student spoke about Johnny Depp and how he aspires to be an international actor solely because of Depp's work. However, as we went around the room the common theme was that of family. I heard student after student describe their mothers and fathers as the most important and influential people in their lives. They spoke so highly of the role of their parents and with such passion. One young girl was brought to tears as she described her father and the sacrifices he has made for his family. It was a moving morning. We all learned a little something new about one another in that classroom. For the first time I didn't care that there was sweat dripping down my back. I was exactly where I wanted to be. And when it was my turn? I followed suit and shared with my students my Mom and Dad, who are by far the most important and inspiring people that I know. Love you both.

I'll post some pictures when the Internet isn't so slow.

Les mando besitos.

Be well.

Noreen

Nicknames and Clothing Rules

Please know that I mean no harm in sharing these stories and that I do not intend to offend anyone. A person's name is their identity, and I respect that. Now...

Day 1 of teaching is officially over. After a few minor mishaps, I can leave campus today feeling like I made the students laugh... more so at me than with me, but what's the difference at this point?

I arrived this morning to a printer with less ink than a ball point pen. So after hand writing half of the handouts that I used today I hurried over the photocopy center with 20 minutes to spare. I watched as the man in charge made my bunches. My lack of language wouldn't allow me to ask that he make double-sided copies... a whole piece of paper for only 3 questions? Grumble. After completion he looks at me and says, "You pay". Whaaaaaaaaat? I have to pay for my photocopies? No one told me that! Off I went, in full sprint mode to find my wallet. One minute before class begins, I rush into the room, all smiles and exuding excitement. "Good morning! How is everyone? Are we ready"? And as I had just arranged my papers in the order that I wanted, in walks a co-worker to tell me that I was in the wrong classroom... with the wrong students. Errrrr... well... Have a good day everyone. See you around, I guess. God! Really? REALLY?

Once I made it to the right room, and made sure 138 times that it was the right class, I was on my way. Today was really a "getting to know you" type of day, and I had all of my students interview one another and then introduce their partners to the class while I sat in the back and took diligent notes. I had learned that most Indonesians have a nickname which would make it much easier for me to remember. Thank goodness, especially with the girls. Question 2 on the interview handout was in regards to nicknames. So as I took my seat on top of a desk towards the back and began to listen, I learned that these are students just like those back in California. They like Lady Gaga and Eminem, enjoy hanging out with friends in their spare time, and they love pizza. So far so good. Then a young woman was standing next to her partner and said, "This is my friend Titis (pronounced ti-tees)". I glanced around the room, hoping that someone would understand why my face was red. "I'm sorry, can you repeat that?" As clear as day she repeated, "Ti-teeeees". Oh no... OH NO! I swallowed back my giggles and went on as though nothing had happened. And then... another pair stands up and the young woman says, "Hello, this is my friend Chichi (pronounced Chee-chee)". Oh no. OH NO! Do...not...giggle, Noreen! Once I allowed myself to breath again I had only two more pairs to get through. The next was easy, and I even spelled their names correctly withe the first try. When the last pair stood to present one another I assumed smooth sailing from here on out. "I'd like to introduce my friend Seksi (pronounced sexy)". Oh, come on! You've got to be kidding me (insert a small and brief giggle)! I couldn't mask the smile much longer and went with it, which then led to a class discussion on adjectives used to describe very attractive people. What can you do?

The last question of my day came from an eager student sitting in the front of my writing class. "Miss, what are your clothing rules"? "Just wear some", I responded.

The Balinese BBC: Bamboo, Bananas and Coconuts

The small propeller plane that flew me to Bali. Scary...

It's hard to believe that it's been almost one month since I left California. The first few weeks in Semarang acted as the perfect "settling-in" period. September 7th came before I knew it and as my coworkers began preparing for the celebration of the end of Ramadan, I boarded a plane for one of the most beautiful places on Earth.

The first four days we spent relaxing on Nusa Lembongan, a small island about 45 minutes from mainland Bali. This small paradise is home to only about 7,000 inhabitants and caters largely to a crowd of skilled surfers and scuba divers. Directly outside our hotel is a surf break fittingly named Lacerations. I understood why after a number of surfers came back to shore with bloody limbs. Lembongan is known for the dangerous current and inevitable coral and reef that you'll hit upon wipe out. Needless to say this was not the place for a novice to take her first surf lesson. So there went that idea. There were three of us that neither surf or scuba, so we spent our days taking snorkeling trips with the kind locals whose job it is to boat us out to great spots for a minimal fee. We rented bicycles and rode up and down the two main streets of the island. We took long walks and ducked in and out of the same shops everyday to get a break from the blistering heat. We ate meals fit for kings that cost close to nothing while watching beautiful sunsets.

The beach outside the Mainski Lodge
Michaela and I, looking dashing, I'm sure

A typical Family Temple

Lembongan Village Beach

The streets of Nusa Lembongan

A typical way of transporting items
A seaweed farmer carrying his load

A happy boat owner

The inside of a temple
A typical Lembongan sunset

The highlight for me on this leg of the trip was our last full day on the island. The non surfers/scuba divers had the brilliant idea of renting motor bikes in order to get to the other side of the island to both Mushroom Beach and Dream Beach, two places not to be missed. The only dilema? We had never driven motor bikes. How hard could it be, though? There were 11 year olds driving them up and down the street carrying both a baby brother and balancing a basket on their heads. I mean, I know how to ride a bike... It was pretty touch-and-go for the first 30 minutes on that thing. The streets are narrow. The wall and I battled a few times when I forgot that the gas was on the handle bar. I thought I was slowing down, but instead was speeding up. It could have been ugly... real ugly. We made it to the first stop and after my sprint to the bathroom in order to make sure my fear hadn't left an accident in my pants, we were overlooking Mushroom Beach. Jackie and I swam, while Michaela read on shore. It was magical, really. Mid day came and it was time to brave the scooters/motor bikes/motorcycles again. Our drive to Dream Beach should have lasted maybe 5 minutes but because I stopped to take a picture (idiot!) I missed our turn and lost the other two. Confused and sweaty I stopped at a dead end and realized that there was no way I could turn this damn thing around on my own. I was on a road the size of my pinkie and the hill was too steep... Think, Noreen. THINK! Then behind me I hear, "Miss, where you go? You need help? I help you". My knight in shining armor, a native, had stopped on his bike and offered to get me turned around. He even offered to go find my friends before sending me off alone. This marks rescue number one... The three of us were on our way and having fresh juice and lumpia at a cafe overlooking Dream Beach in no time. From the photos of Dream Beach you'll know why Jackie and I couldn't resist a swim in the water here. It was just too inviting. Soon thereafter Jackie and I both realized two things: 1) There were lots of jellyfish in the water that were having their way with us and 2) the current was too strong. Enter rescue number 2. Before I knew it there was a lovely man on a paddle boat next to me saying, "Miss, there are too many jellyfish here today. Better you stay on sand". And then he pointed to the back of his little boat, told me to hold on, and paddled me to shore. We walked away unharmed, with only two jellyfish bites each.

Mushroom Beach

That's me, sitting at Dream Beach...

Toes in the sand at Dream Beach

Those were the little guys who got us a few times.My paddle boat hero...
Jacki and Michaela on their motor bike... Yes, without helmets...
A street atop a hill on Nusa Lembongan

Some young friends we met on the way back from Dream Beach

The next day we took a boat to mainland Bali and after a short taxi ride found ourselves in the heart of Ubud. It was love at first sight, really. The streets are lined with all sorts of art stores and colorful, silk batik patterns. I've never seen anything like it, really. The next morning was by far my favorite piece of this trip. We set our alarms for 1:45 am and at 2:30 departed our hotel for Genung Batur, an active and sacred volcano just north of Ubud. We arrived at the base of Batur aroud 3:30 and began our ascent with a lovely tour guide, who apparently is in the best shape ever, as he smoked Marlboro Reds the entire way up. I loved him nonetheless because he called us his "honeys". Giggle, giggle... At 5:30 we reached the top and were greeted with the most beautiful sunrise I've ever seen. The view was simply breathtaking. That was the perfect way to start a day (Alex Biale, I think I brought enough zen with me that morning for the whole group.).

The top at sunrise: Cary, myself, Michaela and Jackie, along with our guides

Genung Batur. Yes, we made it to the top.

If you look closely, you can see the smoke from the crater of Batur behind the monkey.

Hungry, little fella?

A view of the rice paddies on the way back from the volcano

The following day brought out the inner artist in me. After Jackie had such an amazing time at her batik class, I decided I'd give it a go. I've never been much of an artist, as most of my drawings consist of stick figures and squiggles. It turned out that I was the only student that day, so I had two art aprentices who walked me through each step of creating a batik. I have a new appreciation for the intricacy and detail that goes into making jut one. I was there for over 5 hours, drawing, waxing, painting, re-waxing, etc. The class was held at the artists home, which also serves as a studio and a bed and breakfast. They prepared lunch for me and the artists wife and I sat and talked about teaching, Bali, California, my lack of artistic creativity, and on and on. By the end of the class I walked out with my very own batik that will look great on someone's wall... Any takers? Mom? Dad? Perhaps some decor for your garage, Dad-ee-oh???

My instructor demanded a smiling photograph.

There he is, boiling the wax off my masterpiece.

It was an early start on Wednesday morning as we embarked on a bike tour of the "Real Bali". We were treated to breakfast overlooking the beautiful lake, then driven to a coffee plantation where we learned of the process. If anyone has seen the movie The Bucket List, you may recall the beginning of the movie when Jack Nicholson's character decides he wants to drink a cup of Lewak coffee before he dies. Great idea. It's a solid cup of Joe. Only thing is... the lewaks eat those coffee beans, then poop them out before they're used. Apparently there is less work for the harvesters if the lewaks go to town. And to town they go. The coffee bean stays in their system for only about 20 minutes before coming right back out. And allegedly, a cup of this poop coffee runs about 40 pounds in England. Jesus. So naturally I jumped at the opportunity to try some. How could I not?

We tasted 2 coffees, 1 hot chocolate and 2 teas. Then we tasted the pop coffee. Sorry there's not a picture of that.
There I am, overlooking the coffee plantation. Now you know I was really there.

After our coffee high we hopped on our bicycles and rode for about 3 hours through rural villages far outside Ubud. We were greeted on the streets by local kids, all wanting high fives and saying, "Good morning, hello"! We were offered a look at the inside of a family compound and were able to stop and take a walk through the rice fields. I've never seen such vivid green in all my life. A late afternoon buffet lunch consisting of roasted duck and satay chicken left me one happy panda bear!

Walking through the rice paddies, we met this man, hard at work.

The Grandmother of the home, crafting a rooftop of bamboo

Other high points were the dance performances we took in, walks through the city, phenomenal food, yoga in an open air studio. It's really hard to put into words the magic of Bali. It's a whole other world. I cannot wait to return, hopefully next time with my Mama!

A Legong Dance performerOne of the many ornately detailed walls I passed while walking

The view from our porch in UbudI came across this on a walk.

School starts on Monday, so off I go. I imagine I'll have plenty of funnies for you once the semester begins. Until then...

Be well.

Noreen

A New Type of Saturday

I never thought I'd be spending my Saturday nights with Jillian Michaels. Yet here I am. It's Saturday night in Semarang, Indonesia and I found myself engrossed in a non-intentional version of Bikram Yoga in my living room, led by none other than The Queen of The Biggest Loser. She promises fast results. At this point, how can I resist? So at 8:22 pm I sit, dripping in sweat, writing of my life.

The week has proved productive. I've mastered the art of calling for a taxi which has allowed me to explore a bit more. I've tried a number of Indonesian dishes that (as stated in my last entry) have left my stomach begging for nothing more than a saltine cracker topped with honey. The one dish though that has yet to disappoint is Gado Gado. A bowl full of vegetables, rice balls and a hard boiled egg are delivered with a side of peanut sauce to top (see right). Ummm, yes please! I'll have three. What does seem to disappoint however, is my table-top stove. After 2 attempts at making a cheese quesadilla, what ensued was a heap of black ash. I ate it nonetheless, then came to terms with the fact that my deep rooted relationship with quesadillas will have to be put on hold for ten months. Not only can I not find tortillas (I brought only two packages from home) but the cheese here is stupid expensive. A small wedge of good cheese goes for a cool $14. I just can't do it (Susan, are you reading this???). This is something only Jillian Michaels is smiling about, I'm sure.

Also productive this week is my budding friendship with the lovely man who picks me up in the morning and drives me to work. Pak Muntholib is simply lovely. He speaks virtually no English but has successfully taught me how to count to ten, the words for grilled chicken, the words for goat satay (I'll never do it, Dad. I love Fred too much), the names of a few streets, and also that in Indonesia we eat ... rats. I still have to check on this one, but he is certain that the English equivalent to the word he taught me is rat. Dear God. PLEASE don't let me accidentally taste a bite of that. I'm an open-minded human being but the line has to be drawn somewhere. I am drawing it at rodents. In the spirit of 9-02-10 day, how do you not recall the time when Brenda and Donna were in France and Donna accidentally ordered brains from the menu. Poor thing.

I've also made some serious progress on my course curriculum. On the agenda this semester is a discussion on American music, with an emphasis on rap. What better way to bring Eminem into the classroom? Other topics on the agenda are immigration, American cinema and Muslim-Americans. It should be remotely interesting, if not for the students it will be for me. The Department showed me my office (see above)... it's not so bright and super isolated and I can hear the rats in the ceiling playing chess, so I spend most of my time in the larger Department Office.

A last few things. I've learned that Indonesians take showers at least twice a day, and think it strange if you don't. Great. Did they not get the memo that I went to college in Santa Cruz? Showering bi-daily is not really our forte. I didn't bring enough clothes. The amount of sweat that one produces on a daily basis makes it impossible to re-wear. My laundry bills are about to be through the roof. There are Indonesian-English cognates (see above). Hallelujah! I've taken my vitamins everyday for a week (Mom, are you proud?). I also realized that I haven't taken my toe ring off for 4 years. Shouldn't I get some sort of prize or something?

Pictures of Semarang are on their way. I hope to have them up before I leave on Tuesday.

I hope all is well.

Be well. Be safe. Give someone a hug, please (because I don't get many over here).

Noreen

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