First World Third World Vacations

                                 Due to my impending trip to a place that sort of looks like this

A Paige a Day will be suspended for about 12 or so days.

Happy Fridays!

First World Third World Fridays

Inspired by my new home...

First World Problem: I just don't know what to do about this hard water problem. It's causing such an unsightly film on the new tiles.

Third World Problem: The water I bathe in smells like sewage.


Selemat Fridays!

First World Third World Fridays

Do You Know Obama?

Congratulations!

You will be deprived of my presence no more because I now, Insha'Allah, have Internet in my home. Let me just say that Indonesia in not a Mac friendly country. And while I have thoroughly enjoyed my recent conversion to the dark side, days like yesterday finding me desperately wishing I still had my Dell.  But after four hours, three malls and one minor tear-filled meltdown, I can now waste time on the Internet just like in the old days.

           

So I’ve been in Makassar for almost a week now, and I have to say that I definitely lucked out in the teaching counterpart/ school/ housing location department.  I arrived on a rain-filled Friday afternoon after a moderately terrifying flight on the non-U. S or EU approved Lion Air airline.  When we reached my new home, I was dubious of the fact that is still under some minor construction. But after a weekend of battling bugs and scrubbing all of my floors by hand, I have to say it’s the type of starter home a girl could love.  While I definitely deserve some credit for not spiraling down into a germaphobic coma, my home’s domestic aura is mostly due to two ladies… Ibu Kartini and Ibu Ifa.  I never imagined that shopping for furnishings for my first home would consist of me silently fondling things I liked and then two shrewd Indonesian ladies swooping into to bargain and purchase.  Indonesia is truly a hustler’s country, and the greatest lesson I’ve learned in the past few days is to always ask “ fixed price?”

          Another important lesson is the fact that giving away boxes of panty liners to your fellow female teachers as gifts, is a perfectly respectable and encouraged, post-vacation, teacher’s lounge activity. Also feel free to joke with all of the male teachers about the appearance of said large box of free feminine wares.  Another important lesson is that explaining the concept of African-American is an all but futile enterprise.  So if anyone happens to have a spare DVD set of “Roots” please feel free to send it my way.  Everyone is very confused by the fact that I am American and not white.  As a result a typical conversation usually goes something like…

a.)   Where are you from?

b.)  I’m from America.

c.)   Yes but where are your parents from?

d.)  They are from America.

e.)   No, but where are they from.

f.)    They are from America.

g.)   So why do you look Indian/ Papuan?

And so on.  Seeing as Obama and Opera are really my only two well-known examples, I have somehow perpetuated the lie that I am related to both and that I’m Indian.  I’ve decided to implement Black History month in February to try and rectify the situation.

* Insha’Allah is an Arabic phrase that means something like “God willing”. It’s pretty all-purpose here.

First World Third World Fridays

Due to the fact that I have to leave the Sheraton Bandung at the crack of dawn tomorrow to catch a flight to my new home in Makassar, and I won't have internet ( or hot water apparently) in said new home... I've decided to post FWTWF a bit early.

First World Problem: While on vacation I tried this exotic new spa treatment called "Dr. Fish", but later I   read in the New York Times how it actually doesn't comply with U.S. health codes.

Third World Problem: I have no fish to eat because my river is being polluted by all of the blood diamond mines.

Happy Friday ( in about 3 hours depending on your time zone)!!!

    As my time in Bandung draws to a close, I'm beginning to get a bit nostalgic for the weeks I've spent exploring the city.  This creeping nostalgia has obviously infilitrated to the point where I'll even miss the sounds of screeching children frolicking in the Sheraton's pool. However only one little man has managed to capture my heart

This little bundle of asian baby goodness belongs to one of the awesome women running my program. If it wasn't going to put my stipend at risk. I would definitely get knocked up by an Indonesian man so I could maybe have a kid this cute.

Looking back on it, my time here has been overridden with incredibly cute children. Take this Angklung performance for example. Angklung is a musical instument made of out of two bamboo tubes attatched to a bamboo frame. It's basically the bamboo version of the Gamelan, and the Sundanese ( the main ethnic group of this part of Java) perfected it. There is  a school here in Bandung that specializes in Angklung, Wayang Golek and traditional dance, so when we were invited to a performance I was basically acting like a raver on a mix of E and speed. I was going to post  some footage of the children's Angklung orchestra, but my internet refuses to ever upload the videos. I was too giddy during the Wayang Golek performance , which is a type of wooden rod puppetry, to take any footage but it was pretty breathtaking. So here are some pictures instead.

In a few days I'll be settling into to my new and final home here in Indonesia. If my time in Makassar is a  tenth as good as this day was, I know the next 8 months are going to be alright.

First World Third World Fridays

First World Problem: My custom Vera Wang wedding gown is going to take two extra weeks because of the import tax.

Third World Problem: My mosquito net has to double as my wedding dress.

Selemat Idul Fitri Ya'll!

Learn to Squat

      Let me preface today's post by explaining the ways in which this blog's title are misleading. Some of you might have noticed that you are in fact not getting a paige a day. I'm actually averaging more like a paige every 3 to 4 days.  Frankly I feel that this is overkill, but I am currently gifted with the Sheraton Bandung's ridiculously fast and free internet, so i'm taking advantage while possible.  In about 11 days all of this might come to an end, because if I have to walk to an warnet ( internet cafe) during the rainy season, it might be more like a paige every week/week and a half.
     In other news, everyone around me is getting sick. Basically the ETAs are dropping like flies, we were down about 5 people today, lost to pooping or throwing up or both. I'm starting to feel like my days as a healthy person are numbered.
     Instead of my daily schedule of three hours of Bahasa Indonesia class and three hours of english teaching pedagogy, AMINEF shook things up by having us attend culture class. Needless to say no one was exciting at the prospect of being lectured to for 3 hours post-lunch. And then we met Ibu Irid, the most hysterical 64-year old Indonesian woman to grace this earth. Upon arriving she asked all of the ETAs to offer up what they like a dislike about Indonesia/Indonesians. Not surprisingly the list basically could have been titled " reasons Indonesia is not America" but I digress. Ibu Irid offered to bits of wisdom I would like to share today.
On how Indonesians  and Americans think about expressing their immediate impressions : Indonesians-" you're fat...it's cultural, not personal". Americans-" you look like a terrorist...it's cultural, not personal"
And most important of all:
" learn to squat. If there is any skill that is most important for your time in Indonesia it is to learn to squat".
Well said Ibu Irid, well said.

Coming soon, Idul Fitri, my ticking biological clock and fish pedicures.

* Ibu is Bahasa Indonesian for mother or Mrs.*

First World, Third World Fridays

In honor of the ever lovely Julie Appel, I have decided to initiate a little section entitled " First World Third World Fridays" based off the ever popular game " first world, third world problems". It is true that "third world" is no longer a PC term, but "first world, developing world problems" doesn't quite have the same ring. So without further adoo...

First World Problem: I really prefer the taste of Fiji but this restaurant only carries Dasani

Third World Problem:  My village doesn't have clean water and as a result I have cholera.

Happy Fridays!


* many thanks to Polly Furth for FWTW collaboration

Chikungunya Fever

I finally got to visit my first Indonesian school and it couldn’t have come at a better time. Living in a resort with 40 other people, no matter how gorgeous that resort is, can get tiresome quickly. Being confronted with a school full of excited kids was just the soul soothing reminder I needed as to why I’m here in the first place. The ETAs were split into 5 groups, and my group went to visit an SMAN (public upper-secondary school) here in Bandung. We were met at the door by a little spitfire of a woman in a violet power suit and matching jilbab (the bahasa Indonesia word for hijab, or head scarf), who serves as the headmaster. The pride in her school practically radiated off this woman and every smiling teacher we met.  My purpose here, however, is not to perpetuate the myth that all Asian schools are populated by perfectly angelic diligent students. The kids yelled, texted, avoided doing some of their work, squirmed and asked questions. But that’s sort of the point. They weren’t much different from any 15-17 year olds you encounter. Spotting an iPod on one girl’s desk I asked her what type of music she was in to. Smiling she responded “ American hip-hop”, I asked who her favorite artists was and the answer was….Flo Rida!. Although I couldn’t suppress my internal cringe at this response, the whole day gave me a renewed sense of hope in the fact that I can actually maybe handle the situation I’ve gotten myself into.

On another note, one has not experienced a country that touts one of the largest concentrations of Muslims in the world until one has experienced that country during Ramadan.   The energy is absolutely nuts right now and it’s all contained and just pulsing under the surface. All I can think of to compare it to is Mardi Gras, which in my part of the country is a legitimate holiday. Although Ramadan lacks the drunken revelry and boobs, I still have that feeling I used to get when I was little and knew all of the weeks were leading up to the biggest  emotional explosion of the year. The daily calls to prayer are even different, longer and more emotional.  What was once the distant background music of the country is now currently un-ignorable in its magnitude.

In a completely non-related note, I have now experienced my second scared straight medical session. I’ve pretty much come to the conclusion that I WILL get dengue, typhoid, parasites, rabies, chikungunya or/and malaria. At least the PowerPoint presentation explaining all of the reasons why I’m probably going to be on the toilet or have to receive medical evacuation to Singapore was accompanied by some pretty amazing clip art. Dr. V maintained a chipper sense of humor while effectively scaring me shitless (no pun intended). Apparently the island of Sulawesi is a high malaria region, yet there’s a possibility I’ll be fine since I’ll be living in a city on the coast. Needless to say, I’m foregoing the malaria meds; I’ll take 3 days of treatment over 9 months of pill-popping any day.

Wish me luck.