Tales from 2005

Art of Living

In early February I decided to join a class billed as a yoga course. As making yoga a part of my life has been an ongoing goal of mine this year, I thought I darn well better sign up. It turned out to be less physical yoga and more breathing. Midway through the four-day course, I felt like I was becoming a brainwashed member of a cult. This form of breathing was actually designed by a guru named Sri Sri Ravi Shankar who lives in India and has an international following in the hundreds of thousands. There are Art of Living centers all over the world (check your local directory!). Some of you readers may have heard of him. He is quite well known and supposedly a reincarnation of a wise soul who has been teaching for centuries!

I was calling friends and families and telling them they HAD to look up their nearest Art of Living center and get to the basic course. I still have the same advice, as what I got out of it was amazing and inspirational, but it is much like attending a religious retreat. You return with the fire of whatever message is in your heart and as the days go by and the intrusions of every day life keep knocking at your door, the effects begin to wear off.

During these four days I had to eschew alcohol, meat, sugar and caffeine. The headaches were so bad that I have since given up coffee, not wanting to ever have to go through the trouble of detoxifying off caffeine again. A healthy diet, mixed with the amazing breathing exercises they taught us, intermingled with a few yoga moves truly did transform my energy level and outlook on life. I did not feel stressed at all, I had tons of energy and felt great.

Interestingly, about a week after the course ended, I got terribly sick – lost everything in my tummy and then some for about three days. About three other people who took the course had the same reaction. The doctor we visited was familiar with Art of Living and said she sees this happen all the time. A reaction to detoxifying my entire system; it was ugly, but again, it made me realize how TOXIC I must have become.

Enter the Chinese New Year

In mid February we got five day weekend thanks to the timely arrival of the Chinese New Year. The cool thing about living in Indonesia is that, although the religion is predominantly Muslim, they accept all religions and we get just about every religious holiday you can imagine: Pentacost, Nyepi (the Hindu day of silence), Chinese New Year, Muslim New Year, Mohamed’s birthday, Buddha’s birthday, the list goes on and on.

We decided to use the time to take the 3 hour train trip to Bandung, a nice mountain getaway. The train station was not as bad as I would have thought. Lots of poor people hanging about, but the trains were basically on time. We had sprung for the 1st class train for about $7 per person round trip. It is about the distance between Baltimore and New York – for $7 round trip!!! The train had aircon, a small restaurant and nice seats. The scenery was spectacular as we wove in and through mountains. When we arrived the air was luscious! We did not even have to sleep with a fan, let alone a rumbling aircon unit.

Our friends teach at a school up there so we stayed at their lovely home, next to a babbling brook – and a clean one at that! No dead fish floating, old refrigerators lounging or local people washing, as is usual in city waterways. Activities in Bandung include visiting the outlet malls – we got some clothes on the cheap from all the big name brands back home (Esprit, Old Navy and the like), then one day we drove up to the top of the local volcano. It was not active, so we were allowed to hike into it. We got a guide (or three!) and off we went in drizzling weather which was actually kind of nice and cooling.

When we got to the crater, we could see areas where steam was emitting and sure enough, they will sell you some eggs, which you can boil in the open bubbling pools of water. We did, and the kids thought it was really neato keen! We ate the eggs later, which may have been a mistake as Sam was sick the next day. The jury is still out on the cause of that one, however, as Sophia and I got the same bug days later.

One night in Bandung we went to a restaurant which I had thought was called “The Pig” – that’s how it sounded when my Indonesian friend recommended it. And when I mentioned it to the people we were visiting, they said, oh yes, it was a great place and made a reservation. So off we went for the long trek to “The Pig”. Now I thought it was kind of a strange name, being a Muslim country, where eating pork is absolutely forbidden, but maybe someone had a sense of humor. We drove and drove up and down and over mountains and eventually began a final climb to our destination. I kept seeing signs for “The Peak” and sure enough, when we reached the top, there we were: The Peak Restaurant, one of the premier dining spots of the area. The chicken and fish were delicious!

Ahoy, Maties!

When we returned from Bandung things began to happen fast and furiously at school. I had signed on to help direct the school play. It was a frivolous affair, something called “Jolly Roger and the Pirate Queen” – nothing anyone has ever heard of, but full of wit, fighting and lots of shouts of “Ahoy maties!” and such. We basically had no budget and this being my first drama stint at a small school, it was interesting to see how it worked. We have TA’s who managed to build our entire set and supportive teachers who helped the kids collect their own costumes. Definitely a home-spun affair, but all in all quite a bit of fun. We turned a bunch of pathetic thespians in the making into believably scary pirates by the time opening night rolled around. We charged $5 dollars per ticket and managed to cover our costs and donate over $1,000 to Habitat for Humanity in Aceh!

Leavin’ on a Jet Plane

Then came the month of March and Jared and I dusted off our luggage. He was off to Manila to play in the Manila 10’s rugby tourney. Fun was had by all and injuries were kept to a minimum. Then two weeks later, he set off to Bali to play in an international Ultimate Frisbee Tourney. Again, fun was had by all.

Meanwhile the kids and I took off to a place called Pelabuhanratu – yes, I was quite proud the day I learned to say that one! It is a nice beach getaway about four hours drive from Jakarta. If you can manage not to lose your mind or your breakfast on the way, you arrive ready for a nice relaxing time. However, the normal trip there is fraught with traffic, nasty spewing pollution, twists and turns up and over mountains and sloshing stomachs to accompany the twisting and turning.

We had hired a school driver to take us there (Jared was in Manila). He was supposed to arrive at 5:00am so we could miss the traffic, but the guy thought I meant 5:00 pm (yeah, right. I made sure he understood I meant morning, but this is a typical example of saving face when someone makes a blunder). So he arrived by 7:30 am and we were all steaming mad, but could not show it, cause that’s just not what you do here. Of course we hit traffic and had a hellish ride there. A few gin and tonics later, sitting underneath a palm tree swaying in the breeze, watching the waves roll in, I had mellowed out, and blocked out the memory of the trip.

We had a houseboy who got us fresh food each day and would grill it for dinner. The kids spent the days in the pool screaming and leaping with glee. My favorite moment (or hour) was spent getting a massage on a little open hut on the beach, where I could watch the waves and our crowd having a laugh down by the water.

The only bummer about these short weekends is that just as you have sunk into true bliss, it is time to pack up and head home. The ride back pretty much sucked and we returned home ready for another G & T. As part of the anxiety building in the hours before we left the hotel, I totally FORGOT to pay my bill!!! We were halfway home when I remembered and I was horrified! How uncivilized!! Luckily, the owner of the place lives in Jakarta and a few e-mails and a bank transfer later all was right again. We have since decided a flight to Bali is a much better way to spend a weekend. More on that later.

So as the month continued to March along, I got my papers in order for a jaunt to Vietnam. The regional teacher’s conference was held in Ho Chi Min City where Jared and I had gone six years ago. Interestingly, not a lot has changed in the interim, which I was happy to see. When we explored the country for 5 weeks that summer, we loved the way things were –no fast food chains, the local food was fresh and delicious, the people were friendly, but pushy about doing business with us. By this visit, I found less beggars on the streets, and the people to be far less pushy about getting me to buy their wares. I got the impression that the economy is perking along well and that the people in general (how many did I see in the space of three days? Not enough to speak with any authority, but here goes) seemed prosperous.

I saw lots of colleagues from schools all over the region – mostly people from the Manila days who have moved on. I’ll save the gossip for private e-mails – heck, any web browsing fool can read this BLOG!

The day I returned from Vietnam, I discarded my dirty clothes and packed up clean ones to prepare for departure to Yogjakarta – yes, another strange sounding place in this beautiful land. I was about to embark on a five day class trip with 39 little 6th graders and 3 teachers. Valium in hand, we set off for the airport with all the little ones in tow. Almost all of them were going away from their parents for the first time. Cell phones in one hand and Gameboys in another, they bravely faced the dangers of leaving home for the first time. All in all, the trip was a success, so I cannot regale with tales of woe and torture.

The only moment which gave me pause came at 5:00 am one morning as a bevy of screaming girls told tales of ghosts in their rooms. Now ordinarily I would not give such fears the time of day, coming from a culture where we do not believe in such things. But in this country, ghosts are a reality of every day culture. Even the male guide we had along took down the scary picture of three women who stared at him in the hotel room and stuck it in his closet. Amused, I checked to see if I too had such a picture in my room. Sure enough, those three ladies were a wee bit daunting as they stared at me while I lay in bed, but to cover them with a towel or stick them in a closet – come on!!!

The other interesting tidbit was the arrival of hundreds of male members of the PAN political party – yeah, the group who wants all foreigners out of the country, etc. etc. They were the slimiest bunch of politicos I have ever seen: greasy hair, big paunches, chain smokers and smelly to boot. I shared a few packed elevator rides with these guys, so this is first hand observation! We shared a breakfast venue with them and could barely breathe through the cigarette smoke at 7:00 in the morning!

Bali-bound

Onto the month of April and the arrival of our school Spring Break. Finally a chance for the four Rodgers to get away together. We had a great week in Bali, met with friends, went to the water park (see December stories of our Bali visit for the stories – they were repeated in April!), and ate good food. For the last few days we splurged at a five star hotel on the quieter side of the island.

All was going swimmingly well, the kids were enjoying the kiddie club, giving Jared and me the chance to go running or read by the pool. On our last full day there, Jared had gone into town and I was playing with Sam and Sophia on the playground. A heated game of tag with Sam was underway and just as I turned around to taunt him into running faster, I turned back and WHAM – smacked my face into a protruding roofline whose height I had miscalculated. Suddenly the “fun” in the day came to a screeching halt.

Luckily, I kept my screeching silent so as not to alarm my kids. Blood began spurting out of my face from two deep cuts. I wandered about for a few minutes wondering where to get tissues to stop the bleeding. Gradually, a small crowd began to gather and finally the people from the clinic arrived with a first aid kit, with absolutely nothing helpful inside. I asked calmly for someone to get me a tissue and five minutes later I had a wad of paper towels thrust in my hand. They all sat there staring at me, seemingly clueless as to what to do.

I had a feeling the wounds were deep enough to need stitching, so I was put in the hotel ambulance and sent over to the local “hospital”. I took one look at the doctor in charge – his shirttails were untucked, he had sweat pouring down his face and he looked a bit daunted by the idea of stitching me up. I must have used every word of Indonesian I know to get across the idea that a cosmetic surgeon was in order. A few phone calls and about an hour later, I pulled up in taxi (Jared having been able to since join me) at the big hospital in Denpasar. Dr. Riasa entered the room and my fears melted away. What a hotty!

Within 30 minutes I was on the operating table and an hour after that he had stitched me up beautifully and we were on our way back to the hotel. I kept wondering what it would have been like if I had had such an accident in the U.S. Most likely I would have had to wait hours for the proper doctor, had to fill out a myriad of forms and met with some overworked doctor with little bedside manner. Did I mention it was a national holiday and that this man had been called into work to stitch me up?

Now it is almost a month later, the stitches are gone and I can barely see where the cuts were. Alls well that ends well. I had a baby in Manila, stitches put in my face in Bali and both events, I must say, were really quite professionally performed!

Stay tuned for a few more “end of year” tales before we head home for the summer!