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On the Road with Fast Eddie
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On the Road with Fast Eddie |
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| October 16, 2002 It was Sunday night and I was sitting in Prima Warung Internet checking my emails when I looked up at the TV screen. Usually it’s MTV, but this time it was the local news channel and there I saw written on the screen, “Bom Bali”. This was my first clue as to what had happened, even though nearly a full day had elapsed since the horrific terrorist attack approximately 350km from where I live. My first reaction was natural: shock and disbelief. Then came the sadness at the immense suffering I knew had resulted. Then came the outrage: “Those cowardly bastards!” Then as I made my way home in the dark… it takes about 20 minutes… I wondered how safe I was here in Indonesia. Living in the largest Muslim country in the world (210 million and nearly 90% Islamic) has its risk in today’s world, a world that has become increasingly polarized. I knew when I decided to come here that maybe I could’ve picked a safer place to relocate to. But where? Where is safe? Can anyone out there tell me? A cruel irony of the bombing is that Bali has long been considered the “safe haven” within Indonesia, as it is overwhelmingly Hindu and has been free of the conflicts and violence that has occasionally rocked parts of this country from time to time. In fact, in 1998 when political instability and civil unrest came about after the Asian economic crisis reached this country, EF evacuated its teachers to Bali. And with George W. Bush apparently determined to bomb Iraq sometime soon, the 11 Westerners that have been teaching here in Malang (2 Americans, 2 Canadians, 3 Australians and 5 Brits) have all assumed we’ll be headed there until things cool off from the inevitable backlash that will result from an attack on another Muslim country. So what happens next? Those who’ve suffered the loss of friends and family will have to somehow find a way to go on with their lives. The investigators will try to sort out who did it. The government of Indonesia is being pressured to take firmer action against known terrorists living inside the country. So far the president has been pretty soft on them and has denied that it’s a problem here, since she's walking a political tightrope with the Islamic hierarchy on one side and various foreign governments and the powerful army on the other. Things could get pretty dicey! Our school is providing extra security for us, having the police patrol the school and our houses, offering rides home to the teachers at night after school finishes, and having an evacuation plan ready if needed (Singapore). For the most part we all realize that we’re an unlikely target here, but three of these teachers have bailed out already…panicked, jumped on a plane and split without saying a word to anyone here. For me, I’m not going anywhere… not yet, at least. The locals have been incredibly sweet and supportive, and after a class on Monday night a few of them approached me and asked me if I was afraid. “No, I’m not afraid… just careful.”, was my response. And that is how I feel. Since I arrived here I’ve made a point of keeping a low profile and paying attention. That’s still true…and now more so. A few weeks ago I made plane reservations for Bali at Christmas/New Years, and I have no intention of canceling them. Not yet. Moving on to other subjects…the rainy season is just around the corner. That’s what I’m told…plus you can feel it coming, as the air sometimes feels heavier. Being so close to the equator here, there’s no concept of winter, spring, summer and fall - there are but two seasons: dry and rainy. I haven’t bought my umbrella yet, which might not be so smart! But so far there’s been no rain in the six weeks I’ve been here. I am getting into the rhythm of living here now. I’ve figured out a few essentials, including: how to get around and the best way to do it; where to buy what I need at the best price and when stores and markets are open; how to set up my schedule to easily handle my teaching responsibilities; where I can find some other Westerners to socialize with; how to speak a few words of Indonesian to help me function day-to-day; how to keep the ants from driving my out of my living quarters and the mosquitoes from chewing me up while I’m sleeping; how to keep from getting killed while crossing the chaos-filled streets; how to make the switch from teaching business English to German adults to teaching general English to Indonesian adolescents, how to keep from getting tummy problems… etc. I previously described somewhat the house that I share with two other teachers – Dave and Dav. You remember those two rascals D & D? Allow me to elaborate a bit more. The main part of the house has three bedrooms, mine being quite large with a massive bed, two wardrobes, a desk with chair and a sink. I’ve livened up my room with some decorating, including the usual maps. There’s a living room with a TV that shows four local channels, none of which have anything worth watching, as far as I'm concerned. But in the wee hours of the morning European football matches are occasionally broadcast, so we tape them and watch them the next night, while sitting on what must be one of the two or three most uncomfortable couches in the world! In another room are two large refrigerators and our water dispenser, all drinking water complements of our employer. There's a wing off of the main section of the house which has our bathroom, a tiny kitchen, a laundry room and both the bedroom and simple bathroom of our "pembantu", a fifteen-year-old girl named Siami. A pembantu is a live-in housekeeper. "Mi", as we call her, speaks nary a word of English, so giving her instructions usually amounts to pointing, gesturing or pantomiming while saying "tolong" (please). She washes our clothes and dishes and cleans the house, also making our beds. We could ask her to shop and cook for us, but we prefer doing that ourselves. I enjoy creating my own meals (usually stir-fries with rice or noodles), cooking them on what looks like an overgrown Coleman camping stove. I also enjoy my visits to the local market to dicker over the prices of everything, and the vendors of fruits and vegetables are amiable and quite easy to negotiate with. After dealing with merchants from Turkey, Morocco, Kenya, etc., these people are a soft touch… once one learns what things should cost. Our bathroom is Western style, with a toilet, bathtub, sink and shower. But the sink is now plugged up and the tub and shower probably haven't been used since Indonesia achieved independence in 1949. But, no worries! We have the "mandi", a fixture in every Indonesian bathroom. What's a mandi? It’s an ingenious invention, environmentally friendly, easy to use, virtually impossible to break and highly practical. Basically it’s a rectangular, tile tank that’s filled with water via a faucet, or if you’re lucky like us, two faucets: both cold AND hot water. Just a few minutes of running some hot water (when that works!) and I’m splashing away like a little toddler in a kiddy pool. This is not to imply that you crawl into the tank. On the contrary… you throw water over yourself with a plastic saucepan, and it all runs into a drain in the floor. Even if the water is shut off (not unlikely here), you can still wash yourself, though it might be in cold water. But in this climate, that’s what most people do anyway. We had a three-day weekend recently, and Dave and I went to Solo in central Java. Originally known as Surakarta, Solo, along with Yogyakarta (65km away), have been the heart of Javanese culture and court cities in the center of a centuries-old civilization that blended Hindu, Buddhist and Muslim influences, playing a critical role in Indonesian history. To get there, we booked seats on a travel van which took about 6 ½ hours and set us back 46,000 Rupiah (about $5) each. This is for a one-way ticket. For some strange reason that no-one has yet been able to explain to me, booking return (round-trip) transportation in Indonesia is very difficult, if not seemingly impossible. Even though we used Surya Travel both ways, we had to wait until we arrived in Solo to make our return arrangements. The road to Solo has some lovely scenery, particularly in the somewhat mountainous area near Malang. The road twisted and turned through stunning vistas. At one point I looked out across terraced rice fields and saw a waterfall plummeting more than 100 meters down a rocky cliff. As we rode more westerly, we encountered flatter land and larger fields of crops, mostly rice and maize (corn). But quite frankly it was difficult to enjoy the scenery, or the ride in general, all that much. This was solely due to the way people drive in this country. To say that they have “crazy drivers” doesn’t quite seem to fully sum it up. It’s beyond anything I’ve ever encountered anywhere! Istanbul taxi hacks and L.A. freeway drivers are immensely timid and laid back in comparison. A good many of the Indonesians are absolutely stark raving mad behind the wheel… or on motorbikes. Our drivers were real scary dudes, and the one on the way home was a complete lunatic! Extremely dangerous! Let’s start with rule number one: drive as fast as you possibly can! Oh… the road is bumpy and full of potholes? Carry on… full speed ahead! Rule number two is to overtake every single vehicle you can, regardless of the circumstances. At one point he actually tried to pass a bus that was passing another bus (mind you, this is a two-lane road!)…. on a blind curve! At least he had the good sense to pull back when he saw the truck coming at us. Pass on the left or right side? Who cares! Motorbikes coming? They’ll move over! (And they do.) I don’t recall seeing a single speed limit sign. But then, that would only be a waste of tax payers money, wouldn’t it? Our second driver also had an aversion to shifting, third gear being his preferred gear of choice 99% of the time. I guess it is convenient to just leave it there, and then you won’t have to bother using the clutch, etc whenever you want to overtake another bus passing another bus! Plus, then it would be harder to maintain the constant staccato blaring of his horn, warning other vehicles, “Coming through… move over!”. But as you might imagine, listening to the engine screaming at around 5-6,000 RPMs constantly hour after hour will grate on your nerves, not to mention the repeated jerking forward and backward as he hammers his foot on the accelerator. At one point I did consider yelling at him, “Pelan, pelan!” (slow down), but I recalled what Dav once told me about doing that, and that the driver had only laughed at him and driven even faster. Finally Dave leaned back his head, and with a sigh of resignation muttered, “I’m just going to close my eyes.” What makes all this so strange is that when Indonesians are in any particular place, they don’t seem to be in a hurry to do much of anything. Urgency (or efficiency either, for that matter) is of little concern to them, for the most part. Then why, for God sakes, are they in such a rush to get to somewhere else, since when they get there they won’t do much of anything anyway? But obviously we survived, and I can now relate to you what Solo was like for me. Since it was a palace city, one highlight there is… you guessed it… palaces. They are called “kratons”, which means walled city palace, and there are two of them there, both still currently being used. First we headed for the smaller one, Kraton Mangkunegara where the prince lives with his two wives and four children. We paid 5,000 Rupiah ($.55) and headed off with Lali, our delightful guide. I have never seen a human being laugh as much as Lali did. No matter what any of us said, she laughed at everything! Everything! “Lali, your whole family was just killed in a gas explosion!” “Ha, ha, ha, ha, ha……” But she was great, and just chocked full of information about everything. This kraton has been there since 1757 and at its center is a large pavilion where events are still being held. In fact if you can find 49 other friends who are willing to join you in coughing up $25 each, you can have dinner with the prince. The ceiling has huge chandeliers and is elaborately decorated with color patches designed to ward off evil spirits. Here and there are statues and other gifts from European courts donated over time. Among the exhibits are clothing, jewelry and other various oddities, including gold genital covers. Having observed the penis cover used by one particular past king, I can safely say that size apparently didn’t matter in those days…at least in his case! Around this time, Lali felt obligated to inform us about the practice of circumcision (which was performed at around the age of 13… ouch!), “The reason they did it was that it made IT more sensitive afterwards… you know… IT…. ha, ha, ha, ha!” Later we stopped by the larger Kraton Surakarta, where the king now lives with his six concubines and thirty-six children. (It’s good to be the king, huh?) Behind the gatehouse is a nice courtyard with imported black sand and plenty of shady trees, and the museum has fine silver and bronze Hindu-Javanese figures, Javanese weapons, antiques and royal heirlooms. Once again we paid 5,000 Rupiah for admission and a guide, though this guy was boring in comparison to Lali. Like the other palace, this one also showed evidence of an empire far into decline. There was trash scattered in the courtyard and it all could use a face-lift. After seeing European palaces such as Schloss Schönbrunn of the Hapsburg dynasty, these certainly pale in comparison. But both are still worth visiting none-the-less. We stayed at Istana Griya, a “homestay” with 18 rooms that I definitely recommend. I paid 40,000 Rupiah (about $4.25) for a terrific room that had a sink, shower and toilet, plus a brass carving of a sitting Buddha on my door and a massive painting of Bob Marley hanging over my bed… both attentively watching over me, no doubt. As advertised, Istana Griya provides “Free coffe (sic), tea and boiled water” and has a cozy little courtyard out front to relax and drink afore mentioned beverages or to eat your breakfast (also included). Walking out from the alley, you encounter Warung Baru, the best restaurant I’ve discovered so far in Indonesia: fantastically delicious food at ridiculously low prices! Example: huge fresh fruit salad for about $.50. Solo is a shopper’s paradise! Near the Kraton Surakarta is Pesar Klewer, a two-storied textile market that is a claustrophobic-inducing maze of hundreds of vendors selling clothing and batiks, magnificent cloth tapestries that have a rich cultural tradition in Java. These batiks can be either handmade or commercially produced, and are beautifully colored and printed on cotton, linen or even silk. I own two of them. One hangs on the wall above my bed and the other is an all-purpose sarong I use as a towel, sheet, shawl or for whatever else I need it. Also a must is Solo’s flea market, Pesar Triwindu, where I started and finished my Christmas shopping in less than an hour. I don’t want to give away any Christmas surprises to my family, but one can expect to find great deals on Indonesian crafts such as carved masks and puppets, jewelry, metalwork and ceramics… plus more batiks. Dave and I did a lot of aimless wandering ("jalan-jalan"…walking-walking) through the city, down alleys and back streets in the kampungs (neighborhoods) where we were very warmly greeted. Here and there were Hindu and Buddhist statues or altars, plus the inevitable mosques. At one point we came across some people training birds on the street. When we asked one man for directions, he became so invested in the results of his advice we could hardly shake him off… he actually followed us! There are quite a few students who come to Solo to study the performing arts. At Warung Baru we met a young woman from the U.K. who is in her second year of learning “gamelan”, an ancient form of music that is still a vital part of Javanese culture. A gamelan orchestra consists of between 15 to 75 instruments, mostly percussion, ranging from large gongs and drums to a xylophone-type instrument called a “gambang” to tiny bamboo flutes. The sound is unique, to say the least…at times like rain on a corrugated tin roof… at times a delicate, trance-like melody. We had seen sets of instruments at the kratons, as they’re used for performances there, as they have been for hundreds of years. Most people visit Solo as a side-trip from the better known and more popular Yogya, which I plan on visiting at another time. When I returned from there, I read in Time Magazine about a man named Abubakar Ba’asyir, leader of Jemaah Islamiah, a so-called Islamic militant group in Indonesia that’s been linked to several terrorist attacks and attempted attacks in SE Asia over recent years. He lives openly in...you guessed it... Solo! Guess who the primary suspect is in the Bali bombing? |
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~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~~ ~ To read Fast Eddie's adventures from the beginning, go here ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~~ ~ CURRENT NEWS: ALL
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Salamat tinggal,
