We're ankle-deep into PST in Batu province. Today is our first day together as a big group in a week, and it already felt like a big family reunion. But let me back up.
A is for Adrenaline. Which is what fueled me for the 96 hour adventure that started Saturday, March 30th, the day before Staging in DC. It was sleepless, in part because I was seriously sweating the 80 lbs luggage limit. I packed, unpacked, re-packed, squeezed, kicked, discarded, discarded some more, and cursed in a seemingly endless 24 hour cycle. Thankfully, the airport counter lady in the U.S. has a daughter and a son-in-law in the Peace Corps currently, so I'm pretty sure she was being generous with the weight allowance.
It took three days and several flights before we arrived in Surabaya. The only sleep we all got was the occasional nodding off in the plane. We were looking seriously bedraggled when we got to Surabaya airport, delirious, not knowing which way was up, when among the thronging crowds outside we saw current Peace Corps Volunteers with hand-made welcome signs greeting us outside. They had traveled all the way from their posts to greet us. It was truly a lovely welcome.
The hotel in Surabaya was luxurious, which was completely unexpected but a nice surprise, and possibly made more insane by our delirium: Air-conditioned, beautiful foyer, live music (?!), and refreshing mocktails awaited us. Which was lovely, because we still had to attend a welcome meeting, dressed in business casual, after three days of flying. Needless to say, we were bushed by 9 p.m. However, when my roommate and I went upstairs, neither one of us could open the door. We called the concierge, who called over someone else, who called over someone else, who called over someone else, such that three hotel employees were trying to open our door with the master key. Slightly unsettling was the fact that it appeared to be dead-bolted from the INSIDE. Hm.
I was so tired by that point that I my entire body was literally in pain. But what could one do? Politely wait for the staff to figure out what’s going on. The staff felt terrible, and offered several times to let us stay in another room. But I did not want to leave my sensitive belongings unattended, so I decided to keep waiting. A locksmith was called, so then there were four men trying to open the door. After another 45 minutes passed, they finally figured out what had happened (dead bolt from inside; likely malfunction of door lock mechanism), so then they went into the room adjoining ours (where three Indonesians were staying), climbed through THEIR window to get to OUR window, cracked the class of our window to open the latch, climbed inside into our room, to then open the door from the inside.
Welcome to Indonesia!
:)
B is for Batu. After another four days of Staging in Surabaya, there was finally the big reveal of host families and PST language cluster sites. I am with five other PC Trainees in a cluster.
Our language clusters are in a higher altitude, so the climate is cool and really not that humid, not unlike San Francisco. We have our Bahasa Indonesia classes are in the Pendopo, an open-air pavilion of sorts that is used as a community meeting place.
I LOVE my host family: My Bapak (father), my Ibu (mother), one teenager and one six year-old. My Bapak is a village elder, called Kasun. He was elected to that position by the village. He resolves community disputes, like theft or fist fights. My Ibu is also a community leader; she leads the PKK (see below, last photo, lady with the long black hair). Both Bapak and Ibu were born and raised in my village. Both of their grandparents and parents are alive and still live there, too. My Ibu, her mother, and her mother’s mother are excellent pastry chefs. SCORE! They take orders, like, LARGE orders, so my Ibu wakes up in the middle of the night to go next door to help her mom and her grandmother (Nenek) bake. Two days ago I got to help Nenek finish a local, multi-colored treat called Bikang (photos below). She got a kick out of that. I LOVE Nenek. She also gave me a huge bouquet of beautiful roses when I arrived. She says she wants to go to America with me.
:) SO CUTE!!!!!
In the short time I’ve been here, I’ve already gotten to experience several cultural events, such as a Tahlil, which is a Muslim community event. My Ibu put me in a head scarf, and all the ladies got a kick out of the fact I was there and following along in the prayer book. I also attended a PKK meeting at the Pendopo. (Cultural note: Indonesians love acronyms.) PKK is a women’s group, and each village has its own PKK. It organizes community events, like women’s health events, cooking competitions. Each village has its own uniform color. Ours is a bright teal.
C is for Counting Cash. Counting Rupiah is no joke. Shimmy counting Rupiah in Bahasa Indonesia, however, is comedy.
