Em.'s In & Outs

After crossing over the North Pole in this Boing 777, I greatly fulfilled my never-ending thurst for big contrasts by going from a cosmopolitan and definitely urban experience into a week at the small organic vegetable farm where my sister Alex works.

It was a chance for me to be there, for I've been interested in gardening for a long time and now finally had the opportunity to ask all kinds of questions about food-growing and fertilizers and greenhouse and everything. It was also very nice to be again around people who value the environment and act upon their principles, as it feels like since I left CÉGEP I meet fewer and fewer of these people. I guess environmentalism is more preponderant theme in Québec than anywhere else I've been so far, probably because of the many people living in the countryside and wanting to preserve their quality of life. I think it was also very timely, as it feels like, how important the issues of food safety, GMOs and vegetarianism are, I am sometimes neglecting them in my mental wanderings around other things. So that was nice! But after taking a day to go to Montréal, visit CECI's headquarters to meet with a Burkinabè delegation and with future co-workers and supervisors, I realized that that was where I belonged, however frustrating the paperwork can sometimes be...

Alex and I were sleeping in our sleeping bags in a large tippies, which was not without reminding me of good memories the summer 2004, spent in my tent in the Rockies. We took some time off from working at the farm to go hand-picking berries, canoeing with the dog and hicking the region's biggest peak, Mont Pinnacle, and barefeet that is, as in my recent quality of ''city girl'' (as put by Alex), I was only carrying heels and flip flops in my suitcase... But good times, overall!

I spent a lot of the time readjusting to the time difference at first, and a bit of time socializing with the family owning the farm and especially with their 2 year old son, Forest. I realized it was not only time I needed to adjust to... The more it went, the more I can say I realized the impact of certain Hong Kong values upon my behavior and my way of seeing things and that, in a varieties of situations. It is always special to realize how one is changed by one's trips, for the better and for the worst! On the bad end, I must admit I'll have to redo some work on my patience and make conscious efforts to stop acting snobbily or in a superficial manner. I am told one is always the worst judge upon oneself though, hey...

On another note, I must say that the more it goes the more I buy into these psychological models of the ''steps'' of a cultural adaptation; after realizing that I really didn't do too well at the ''Leaving'' component of my journey in Asia (with not doing proper goodbyes to important people), I unfortunately saw myself in a situation of ''Debriefing'' which was not optimal either; in fact, it didn't happen yet. I sometimes feel like few people in my family or my town can relate to what I'm living in a way that is emphatetic enough to permit me to say all I have to say about the summer. It seems like my CÉGEP and IDS support networks are so far away now. But oh well, it will be allright... Courage Éma...

I feel like I am a tourist in my own province. For example, I was totally taken by surprise by the granola friend of the farm's owner when she was talking about eating her placenta after giving birth to get herself some nutrients! Oh la la... But I guess the period of feeling horrible or inadequate will soon be over so I can move onto the next challenge (Burkina that is), which is very exciting as well.

Going to Malaysia this summer is probably amongts the most irrational things - considering time and budget - that I've ever done, and, for those who know me, that's quite a big statement :) But I don't regret. Mark and I had fun (most of the time :P), actually for me it felt like 5 days that were totally out of space and time. This is where we totally reached the paroxysm of contradictions and contrasts with eating for 100$ worth of tapas and staying a whole afternoon on a tapas patio in Bangsar (the expats neighbourhood) reading novels AND after that looking avidly for the cheapeast, most basic accommodation possible (featured above!). Aiyaya... Then I had the best shisha of my life in a real Middle-Eastern place where I was the only white person, and they were heating up the coal by quickly spinning the metal container it was lit in over their shouldrs, yes, yes, yes! And Malacca is a cute city, and Kuala Lumpur is so unlike Jakarta, it has very nice Moorish architecture, I was impressed. I was so happy to speak Chinese again! (Yishin I can't wait to see you again by the way!) There seems to be so much happening in this society that's so split along racial lines, and looking at the papers and going to the musem was very instructive, I wish I knew more about this place. My first and only days surprised me with learning how discriminatory power is here, with the everybody stuck in their category, minding their own business and disliking each other... But I don't understand any of it and I'm quite disappointed about my own lack of awareness... But anyhow. I loved the kites! Kites and tops! Kites have this whole ceremonial aspect and it maintains gender balance and things like that, it's neat! And I clearly don't know what else to say :) Mark rocks!

When I heard about Bali before I thought about Kuta, which is a huge beach resort that is to Australians about what Varadero, Cuba, is to Canadians. Browsing through the Lonely Planet did not help; it was talking about the 2003 bombings (for which a Islamic priest is now on trial) that killed some 200 people, and how Bali might because some kind of lost paradise. Not very helpful. I still had 6 days in Indonesia and figured I would go there and continue on to other more remote islands if I didn’t like it. Flexible plan, like it, let’s go.

It ended up that I would have never left Bali. This is the prettiest place I have even seen in my entire life. For sure there are palm trees everywhere, a fact which could get on my nerves if it wasn’t of the surroundings of this luxurious vegetation. Walking around in Bali is a pleasure for the eyes; many of the houses and buildings are decorated and ornamented with stone statues, wood carvings, plants, etc. The Hindu religion has developed into a very lively strain here (with no Intouchables, a more flexible caste system and a different pantheon of gods), and many people visit the temple everyday to pray and make offerings in the form of fruits and flowers in the streets. There are countless festivals, and when ceremonies happen, people dress with very colourful garnments, and the music is just enchanting. Kids are thought about their culture in community centres, and most of them are introduced to traditional dance, music and arts and crafts at a very young age. It is beautiful to see this. It is beautiful to jalan jalan (wander around).

I was based in Ubud, a town in the middle of the island, who is famous for being a nice place to learn about Balinese culture. Since I had limited time and knew there were obvious limits to what I could do, learn and figure out in such time, I thought it was probably the best place to be, rather than going beach bumming or trekking around. I found a nice and cheap homestay with a very nice owner, who prepared an awesome breakfast (in contrast to most of the places I’ve been to in Indonesia where breakfast is usually just toast or fried noodles). My neighbour, Eric, was a 42 year old French homosexual man working in the show-biz industry, and he was really nice to talk to. We would converse over a cup of tea at night, exchanging on our days, we mostly relaxing and taking short courses in dancing, painting and cooking, him on waking up early to take stunning pictures and going around on the motorcycle. We shared a common idea of going to Tulambem (in the North-East of Bali) to dive in the wreck of the Liberty, a military ship sunk during World War II who has evolved in a coral forest populated by all kinds of tropical fish. So one afternoon we left on the motorbike and drove around for about 3 hours, on some really nice roads, some neighbouring the sea with their black beaches, some in the rain forest, with pretty rice paddies, lagoons, mountains, volcanoes, etc. Very nice! We arrived at the diving studio in Tulambem to be greated by a very hot man who also happened to be young and cool and who took lots of fun in making me blush. He also coincidently happened to be the one to be our diving instructor for the next day, aiya! Anyways, we had a good night sitting with our host while listening to Punjabi music, although I got a bit pissed when Eric went to bed and he started being a bit too insisting. But anyways. The next day we had a diving lesson in the swimming pool and learned how to operate the equipment, and then first thing we knew we were in the Bali Sea surrounded by wicked marine sceneries, touching blue, orange and yellow fish (Nemo) and anemones and seeing a fish that made 1m X 1m easy (with 5 cm long teeth!)!! It was such a magic moment. Lucky me, I got the whole package, including marriage proposal. But oh well.

So that was a highlight of the Bali trip. I had some other great times; I visited a meditation centre in Ubud and met a very nice man with whom I could have talked for hours about life and philosophy. My older sister Alexandra meditates 2h per day and often goes for meditation courses, and by talking to her and seeing how hectic my lifestyle gets sometimes, I was very happy to first try meditation in such a lovely setting. However, even though, more so after taking the course in Chinese philosophy, I have been hoping to take more time to sit back, reflect and, basically, make a place for spirituality in my life, I still can not seem to ban all these ‘unhealthy’ things from my life. For example, after meditation I was looking at the menu in one café, when two girls invited me in for a beer. We hung out there for a very long time. They both earn a living dancing in clubs in Australia (but clean clubs only, I am told), and make a lot of money to finance their trips around the world. So crazy! This time they were on a two-weeks vacation just out of Ubud, they had their private swimming pool and an assigned driver and they were doing lots of shopping and partying in Kuta. Ah, crazy! That night we had of ajax, the local spirit, and talked about some crazy stuff regarding to drugs and sexuality in South-East Asia, it was really cool! I guess I have to become at peace with living such contrasts in juxtaposition, and eventually after taking and leaving some I should reach some kind of healthy compromise between all the things I enjoy.

I also have to come to terms with the fact of being a ‘tourist’, which was not easy on my ego. In the past couple of years, Bali has now switched to appeal more and more to middle-aged European families, so that was very strange for me whose used to be either anonymous, either among the few foreigners, or either with other young backpackers. But it was interesting, I met some nice Swiss and French women in a cooking class (in which we were took to the market and were explained many things about Balinese spices and ingredients, and then we cooked some 6 very yummy dishes which I shall try to emulate once I get home – wish me luck!). This experience made me realize how fragile an economy based on tourism is; even if Bali attracts the bulk of the tourists to Indonesia (in my view, and unfortunately, because it’s not Muslim…), it has greatly suffered from market forces and it is a common view to see decrepit hotels or pushy shopkeepers in towns that are now neglected by tourists. It was also a good test to realize how I feel about being a lone female traveller. The only time I actually travelled alone was in the Canadian Rockies, the Yukon and Alaska, which really doesn’t compare… But I think it was a good time to do it, before spending a year in Burkina in which I’ll probably have to deal with similar issues again on a more frequent basis. I think the main issue here is that I really don’t know what I want so I’m not prepared to face, say, marriage proposals, in a decent satisfying honourable respectful way. I’ve got some work to do there. It may be childish and immature but even as time goes by and I meet people and experience a number of things, I still don't know how I feel about dating or having one night stands while travelling. I must admit sometimes I have to hold back to not judging people I know who do it each time they travel, although I don't have anything against it per se. I guess I'm pushing the whole race-class-gender analysis too far sometimes, but I must admit that really make me struggle. One last thing: this trip reconfirmed how important culture is to me. It seems like each time I get busy, sport and culture are the first things to be put aside, unfortunately. But by being completely spoiled in Ubud with watching dance performances (resembling those in Baraka!), chilling in museums and strolling around markets and arts boutiques, I was changed. It made me realize that, although this is probably a very selfish act of pure leisure, and even how hard I would try to be focused on one thing (i.e. development), I need arts in my life.

Indonesia is part of the Pacific ‘Ring of Fire’, whom for those who have been there mean much more than a strange coincidence with the Johnny Cash song. People in Yogyakarta would tell you. In fact, last May 27th, a strong earthquake shook the city, followed a month later by a tsunami.

Stian had been working on earthquake relief as the personal assistant of Aly-Khan Rajani, our senior IDSer (and superstar) who is now an expert in emergency response. He had a mandate to bring a printer’s piece to the CARE office locally in Jogia, and he had been offered a two-weeks intensive course in Bahasa Indonesia (the national language) in a reputed language school there), so on Sunday we went to Jakarta’s train station to embark on a very cold journey (pushing the air con to the limit of freezing seem to be a symbol of status here!) that we almost missed as two people told us the wrong platform for our train. During the eight hours ride, I kept on wondering what it would be like, considering the recent catastrophes that hit Java’s cultural capital. Would the city be destroyed? Would people have reengaged in their normal daily lives? Would we be the only foreigners to not be affiliated with NGOs?

We arrived in Jogia at night and then the next morning went to meet Stian’s professors. He was in class all day, and I was restless and could not wait to learn more about the city’s arts and craft and scene so I hoped on a local bus (30 cents for the ride). For me who was expecting some kind of Ground Zero, I was strucked to realize that, for an unaware observer, it could have seemed like nothing happened there at all (at least in most of the areas I visited in the 3 days I was there). I did some people watching, which was well reciprocated by the other women on the bus . I love how local transportation provide an insight into people’s daily lives; the baskets, the food, the clothing, the social life, the hierarchy, the male-female relationships, etc. To the moment I go to Malioboro St, which is the main street, I met some ‘instant friends’, people who engage into conversations easily and then advise you that the batik (Javanese craft in which fabric or canvas is covered in wax and is dyed several types to produce an avalanche of colors) on Molioboro St is of bad quality and then they get you a becak (small cart pulled by a bicycle, this means of transportation had been banned in Jakarta for reminding of colonial oppression) to a professional gallery, and if you buy something, they get a high commission. Typical scene. But the batik, traditional or modern, is stunning.

The kraton (palace) of Jogia is the thing to see, besides the amazing, inspiring Borobudur temple’s (like Cambodia’s Ankor Wat). The kraton is where Jogia’s sultan lives. Jogia, along with Jakarta and Banda Aceh, are Indonesia’s special administrative regions. In fact, Jogia, along with Solo (Surakarta), its neighbours, have been famous throughout history for anti-colonial strifes and political activism, and to this day still maintain a certain autonomy from the central government. So they still have their sultan, sultan number 10, who has only one wife (!) and who has five daughters, one in California who just got married, two in Australia and two who live with him in the palace (my instant friend told me!). You can see the carriages of the royal families in this enclave, and you can also visit the remnants of the Water Castle, which is comprised of many swimming pools, in which sultan number 4’s wives, concubines and children used to bathe under the supervision of his majesty. There’s some really neat area around the Katron, along with a couple places to climb around (although some parts have been destroyed by the earthquake) and a very lively bird market.

Later that day I met up with Stian and we went to deliver the printer’s part (which we had dropped and could not really put back into place!) to the CARE temporary office, which they had rented from a local organization. I felt very privileged to see from where the NGO operated their relief activities (which were mostly in the form of distribution of clean water, I believe); a small office with friendly, smiley, mostly Indonesian staff, all working on spreadsheets on their laptops. For sure it was now in the aftermath of the emergency, and the crazy busy intense intervention phase was over, but it was still surprising to see that the place did not look any different than any other office. But oh well. Then later I went to a museum downtown where there was a wayang kulit performance. Wayang kulit means ‘shadow puppet’, and it’s a traditional Javanese show that most often relates the tales of the Ramayana, an ancient Hindu story. (It must be said that Javanese religion is an active blend of Islam, Hinduism, Buddhism and indigenous animist beliefs). The performance I watched lasted two hours, but some of them can last a whole night! It was very very cool. On the one side of the stage, there’s a gamelan orchestra playing, which is a ensemble of percussions and strings playing beautiful music, and the puppet master, who is extremely impressive, as he makes the voices of all the puppets while manipulating them and giving the beat for the gamelan by hitting a bell with his feet! A genuine Jack-of-all-trades! The show was very impressive, although I didn’t get most of it (it was in Javanese; although I picked up maybe 20 words of Bahasa Indonesia, I don’t know any Javanese whatsoever…), I was explained the meaning behind, for example, the shape of the nose of the puppets (which determines if they’re bad or good characters), and things like that…And then the puppets where fighting, and there was the music and wow, it was great!

The next day, I felt a bit weary, for some unknown reasons (could be many things), and felt like I should move on to somewhere else promptly. I went to the bus terminal and then was reading my book and some guys standing there, I could have sworn they were talking about me and taking pictures with me on their mobile phones, so I got very annoyed and took a bus to Bali. I still enjoyed Java, although I wish I had more time to give it an extra chance…

The first sense of Jakarta I ever had was when I was about 10 and my aunt’s friend, who was very well-travelled, told me : ‘Jakarta is the city in which you get lost when you’re biking’. It’s strange how little details like that struck you, but it was only 11 years later that I could verify this stranger’s statement.

I flied to Jakarta the day after my last final exam at CUHK, without even having had time to put myself together and to say proper good-byes to my classmates. Everything indeed seemed to be going wrong as I had trouble with moneychangers, customs, immigration, everything, before leaving Hong Kong (a trend that I found out would continue each time I go to this airport), so in a sense my first trip to South-East Asia started on the wrong foot. I got to the Big Durian at night and was glad to meet up with Stian, a good friend from Toronto, who is currently undertaking his co-op placement with CARE Indonesia (whose office I visited with him, not without a thought of how different my own placement will be from his).

I did not immediately ‘feel ostracized as a white person’, as I’ve been warned (locals actually seemed to care that I didn’t get ran over by a bus!) but I rather had a quick sense that the rules of the game where quite different here than any other place I’ve been. Upon entering Indonesia, in contrast to Cuba’s ‘Welcome to the only free land in the Americas’, stand ‘Welcome to Indonesia. Death to drug traffickers’. Impressive. Jakarta was the most chaotic place my brain could conceive; lots of ink has been devoted to urban planning in the megapolis of the world’s fourth highest population. As a summary: the city has no clear centre but rather many points of convergence, the streets are too narrow to accommodate the flow of a) cabs and big SUVs in Kemang, the expat area, b) the tons of motorcycles and ojex (motorcycle taxis) that circulate around a) and c) all the other types of transportation. There is no such thing as a sidewalk or even street side, which makes going around quite hazardous, as it is usually wrecked, with numerous holes, unevenness and in close proximity to deep open air sewers. Vehicles often park where you would expect to be walking, and when by pure coincidence there seems to be a lane devoted to slower traffic, it gets crowded by impatient drivers. There is not really a system of mass transit adapted to the population density, but rather an abundance of mini-buses, which are often overpacked with people hanging off the door and provide live entertainment (musicians often hop on them to get some money), and which most outsiders would deem ‘extremely unsafe’, to the least.

So that was my first impression of the Big Durian, which was possibly influenced by everybody’s negative comments. In spite all of this, it was special to be in Batavia alias Betawi, especially while being impregnated by such anti- and post-colonial literature such as the Letters of a Javanese Princess and the Buru Quartet, a series by Toer, a most prominent Indonesian writer exposing the complexities and intersectionality of race, gender and language in the Dutch East Indies at the turn of the twentieth century. It was great to collect new sights (veiled young women with their helmet on the motorbike), smells and tastes. I must admit Indonesian food did not please my stomach as much as Chinese food, but we had some fun dining experiences in small warungs (restaurants), in which I always crossed my fingers so I wouldn’t get sick (a fear which was justified, considering Stian got typhoid right after I got there!). In the couple of days I was there, I had the chance to experience Jakarta’s contrasts, by visiting some very posh cafes and malls and by having a night out drinking Barung (the national ale) with other foreigners, while also strolling across parallel streets and discovering a whole new world at the proximity of the urban jungle. My best memories are those of a little kampung (village encroached in the city) in which it was easier to interact with locals and where it was good to just hang out, drink some fresh juice and play with kids. Stian will soon move out of his cozy apartment to possibly move into a house in one of these small streets. Good luck with that dude!