Tears in Jakarta

I'm lying here in the light of a streetlight in our complex shining through the window of our upstairs bedroom. I'm finding it hard to sleep because I'm having blogging withdrawals. I'm typing this on my iPhone, but won't be able to publish until I find a hotspot.

I have so much to tell you. We stayed in Bali for just a day. We rushed through the airport and almost missed our flight. They distributed Luke a lifejacket before take off. Nice one, AirAsia!

The new 'budget' terminal in Jakarta is cleaner than Tullamarine. I like.

We have done various things since our arrival. I bought a notebook from Indomaret to 'blog' in until i get a chance to go on a computer, which may not happen until I'm in Melbourne.

Last week was my birthday, and celebrations continued throughout the week. Luke is doing well, but doesn't like the heat. He really needs a hair cut to enable him to better cope with the humidity. We only had a handful of hot days before we left Melbourne, so he didn't really know about hot weather. Winter baby.

It's interesting watching the differences in child raising here compared with back home. I'm really lucky that my Indonesian husband is tolerant of our circumstances in Australia.

This evening we went to the local mall (cos, really, there's not much else to do in Jakarta). Luke has been teething for a while so he gets upset. He began to cry and couldn't be consoled. There are some mothers rooms in malls, but not as many as in australia. We were going to the mothers room so that I could feed him. Breastfeeding in public is not a legal right in Indonesia like it is in Australia.

While going there, Luke was strapped to his pram and crying as we dodged the crowds and made our way to the one and only parents room. Shoppers and shop keepers alike were giving me dirty looks. Why would I let a child cry like that? My objective was to get to the room so I could better console him quickly.

And now I come to think of it, babies don't seem to cry here. Someone is always holding the baby, whether it be a grandparent or maid. If you told the community here about the 'cry it out' methods we have in the west, they would be shocked.

Often when I'm in malls, people always remark on how adorable Luke is because he is 'mixed'. People pull out their blackberries and take photos like he is a celebrity, random old ladies grab him.

We went to a cafe to indulge in my current favourite drink: avocado coffee. Old ladies looked at us disapprovingly and my assumption is because Hendrik helped me out with Luke (so unasian for a bloke to help) and because we had no nanny accommodating our needs.

The hardest thing is, my inlaws house isn't set up for a baby who is now crawling and getting into things (but I don't expect it to be). Someone needs to be with Luke every second, unlike at home where I can leave him to his own devices in his play pen.

We have no option but to co sleep here, which I'm sure is ringing off alarm bells in Australia. As a matter of fact, this is the way in Indonesia, as a crib is a luxury few can afford here. He naps on our bed, which means someone needs to be upstairs with him all the time too, as the floors here are ceramic and I wouldn't like him to fall on them.

We don't have a car seat either. It's another luxury (along with a car) that few Indonesians can have, and as it isn't the law, many don't see the need. We were offered one but Hendrik's car doesn't even have seatbelts so it would be useless.

Luke enjoyed the novelty at first but has since hated not having his own seat and has been difficult to travel with. The other day I suggested we put him in the carrier to travel by car which he has come to love. It's a bit restricting, but so much easier than managing a wriggly worm!

Another interesting observation, children have no set bed time here. Well, it's not like in Australia where the nurse suggested Luke be in bed by 7. Here that would be considered konyol (ridiculous).

He has been here for a week and has gotten to know pohpoh (grandma), kungkung (grandpa) & kuku (auntie) Lina. He's also getting to know his cousins.

It's great to finally show my son the country I fell in love with exactly 10 years to the day he was born. And while Indonesia will never be the same for me again, when we were walking around the complex the other evening and children were playing on the street, I can't wait for us to come again when he's bigger so that he can fall in love too.

Bali time

So it's 5am and I've been up since 4. The lucky part means my body kind of still says its 8am Melbourne time so it's actually a sleep in. Seems the humidity helps Luke sleep so that's a bonus. Now we're standing outside watching the sunrise and making Ketut remarks.

Today we're off to Jakarta which means we have to travel to another time zone again. Less than 48 hours in Bali is simply not enough, and I would have loved to stay longer, but we are missing the folks in Jakarta so of we go.

Luke traveled well. We opted to come via Perth to break up the trip. Luke did so well on the flight we were actually annoyed that we had to transit. In true Luke style he charmed all the staff and passengers.

We had never been to Perth and upon arrival I felt very much like Adelaide. The airport is obviously at the dryer end of town, Because as we flew out on a flight full of Bali-bound bogans, the view of Perth was stunning. I really hope to go there for real some day.

I haven't landed as an international passenger in Denpasar for a while. The queue for the Visa on Arrival was huge but I managed to get in the queue quickly. Meanwhile the rest of my Lucky Indonesian family got to jump the queue and go Into the local queue.

I had been standing in line for about two minutes when I realised that Hendrik had my US visa money. Oh crap. So I ran towards the big long queue of foreigners getting their stickers but had no idea where Hendrik had gone. (Luke and Hendrik would have easily been the only Indonesians on the flight)

I panicked. It's funny how good your indonesian gets when you're desperate. I got the attention of one of the officials at the airport and asked him, "pak, pak... Mana antri Indonesia?" (where's the Indonesian line?)

Then the 20 questions started. Why? Oh has your husband got a KITAS? Oh really? Your husbands Indonesian? Why can you speak Indonesian? Why do you need to talk to him? Ok, ok... The lines over there.

Luckily I found them. The only people in the queue. Nice to be Indonesian. I sweet talked the guy stamping their passports and he said I could go back to him later rather than lining up with the other hundreds of my kind.

I went and joined the now massive queue to buy my visa. Granted, they are faster at processing them here than in Jakarta. I went back to the previous man but Hendrik had gone and the room was now full of Indonesians. The nice man called me over and stamped my passport - for free! Better than been offered the 'express' service. Win.

We're staying with my super cool sister in law. Yesterday we went to Kuta to beach walk, which, in my opinion, is the dodgiestly designed place for a place in a hot climate.

I need new shoes as mine have given me blisters already. Bloody heat. But I like it. Win some, loose some. Looking forward to the cooler climate!

Photos for the vulnerable

Sometimes it's hard having a ridiculously good looking baby.

I've recently taken up group personal training with my mothers group. The instructor told us that we needed to go for a walk in the evening following the training so that we wouldn't have sore legs the next day. Did I follow her advice? No. The next day I spent in bed.

The following week I didn't want it to be the same. But it was a glorious Melbourne day - hot and windy. So after post-fitness-pig out, I decided to walk around the shopping centre in the air conditioning.

People offered me house and land packages, donate to the save-something fund, and I told them I was under 21 and couldn't (lies). Then a lady in a pink shirt approached me. This isn't the first time. I usually ignore them. I'm not sure why on this day I got sucked in.

She offered to take some 'professional' photos for me for a lovely price of $6.50, which included a free print. I immediately thought what harm could it do and agreed. She put a pink towel on the counter and gave me some outfits to put Luke into. She snapped away as Luke, his cheery self, laughed and smiled for the camera. He was truly adorable and I knew that the photos would be gorgeous.

After putting Luke back in his original clothes, the lady offered me another deal. Six magnets for $30. $5 a magnet. That sounded alright, and great for christmas presents, so the total became $36.50. She also told me that the optional extra was 90 prints and a CD for $520. I immediately said no, and said that if I changed my mind I could later. She stamped a pink card for me, with the collection date the 25th of October and went through the pick up process with me.

I went home that afternoon and began researching modelling agencies.. I was truly under the impression that Luke could be in the next Target magazine. After realising that modelling agencies aren't like teaching agencies, I scrapped the idea.

This morning after a nap, Luke and I went to Fountain Gate to do some 'jobs' and collect the photos. I noticed the stall already with a long line of mothers and prams there to pick up the prints. There stood a stall with plastic buckets full of photos and three young blonde ladies with there to assist.

I joined the back of the queue of about 5 people. I thought that it wouldn't take long, as I assumed that the other mothers were there just to pick up their prints and go, right? Luke was getting restless so I gave him the pink card to play with.

Half an hour later I was sitting on a fold up seat at the table. I handed the blonde lady the pink, chewed and slobbery card and she proceeded to file though the hundreds of photos in the plastic box. Finally she pulled out a plastic pocket filled with photos. She laid them all in front of me like a machine gun. Bang, bang, bang, bang, bang, bang, bang, bang, bang. Nine different poses were laid in front of me with my sons adorable smiling face. Every different photo she placed down I would let out an 'awww'!

"Here's the deal," She said, "there are 90 prints here. It's $520 for these and a CD, but you'll have to wait for the CD as we'll need to burn them for you."

I stopped her. 

"I'm really sorry but I can't afford it," I said, "but could I buy some individually, perhaps?"

"well," she said, as I started to dream about putting the big photos in a lovely frame. "I can do a deal - $180 for all of these prints, just no CD."

Wow. But could I really justify spending all this money? I did the maths in my head - $2 a print wasn't bad, but I still couldn't justify it. I thought perhaps Hendrik would help me justify it.

"I can't afford it," I said, "but my husband has money!"

I got my iPhone out and pretended to text him. I opened up the camera and quickly took a shot of the photos before me on the table. I texted Hendrik telling him of the deal and waited for his reply.

"take your time!" Said the lady. No wonder I waited in line for half an hour. I looked at the long line of anxious mothers and felt sorry for them.

Minutes passed, and Hendrik didn't reply. I told her that perhaps it'd be best I just get what I had already paid for.

"Can I come back later after I've had a think about it?" I asked.

"No,"she replied, "I really can't let you because I can only do this within the next half an hour because I have to take the money to the bank" (or some incredibly strange reason. Don't worry I know this trick.)

She lowered her voice, "how about $150?"

I then called Hendrik. The annoying Virgin Mobile man told me what I already knew - my husband doesn't use voice mail.

I began to feel sick at making this decision on my own. If I had a job I could justify it. But currently living on one income and heading to Indonesia in the future made me think about all the things I could buy over there. Then I would look back at my sons smiling face before me and I wanted to cry. Suddenly I felt really dizzy like I was going to faint. I just wanted to get out of there. I closed my eyes and prayed that God would tell me what to do. No answer.

I dialled Hendrik again, and said in my heart that if he didn't answer, it's a sign that the answer is no.

"Don't say the price too loud," she whispered. Dodgy.

Hendrik didn't pick up. I looked at the pictures of my son as tears swelled up in my eyes. If they were to throw these pictures in the bin, it felt like they were throwing out a part of me.

"He didn't pick up," I said, "So I think I'll just get the print and magnets that I've already paid for. Sorry." (Why am I apologising?)

"Look," she said, "I'll give them to you for $120. I would just hate to see them go in the bin." 

My heart dropped and suddenly I felt like I was doing a deal with the devil. I was going to give money to this organisation that was about to go and pick on more vulnerable mothers like myself, all for the sake of the beautiful photos of my son. 

And then I made a promise to myself. I would go and give someone more deserving the money. Young talent is genuinely being robbed by shopping centre scammers like this.

I bit my lip. "No, I'll just take the magnets and the print."

She then proceeded to cut out six of the smaller prints and stick magnets on the back (very dodgy). I think she needed to go back to primary school and learn how to cut straight. She quickly cut the print off for me. She put them inside of the chewed up slobbery pink card which I then removed because I didn't want them wrecked, yet she insisted.

$120 can go towards my very own SLR camera, I thought.

From my experience this morning I would like to tell you that instead of being sucked in, you should check out my friend Hayley Mah ("Check her out"!). Her children are like Luke, putting the Asian in caucASIAN. She is a beginner photographer, but my she is good. Unfortunately she lives in Ballarat, but she has excellent deals. Instead of supporting some silly manipulative business that prys on innocent vulnerable mothers, I would much rather support someone like Hayley. Check out her website, Captured By Mah to find more information!

Just the two of us...

Tonight Hendrik had to work late. I've never had a night where it's solely Luke and I. The only nights I have been away from Hendrik were when I went home for a week - but I at least had my Mum.

After tonight I have developed full respect for single parents - and the ones with partners who just don't help out.

After a relatively busy day, mothers group and a 3 hour round trip to the airport, I thought that tonight would be fine. Despite Hendrik only telling me yesterday that he would have to stay back late to tonight, I had planned a night of solitary luxury. Watching a movie, reading a book or blogging.

How very wrong I was.

After getting lost on the way home from the airport (long story) I came home and we watched some TV. My Mum had stewed up some apple for Luke yesterday so I tried to feed him that. He wasn't interested. I tried everything. I put him in front of the fish but he knew that Daddy wasn't home. And he usually would be.

After trying to force feed him with two different choices, adding cinnamon to the apple. He almost choked and I began to get stressed. But it didn't end there.

I multitasked by trying to feed him while getting his bath ready. I NEVER bath him. Because Hendrik works such long hours it's dedicated for father-son bonding time. I'm not too good at bathing him and he may or may not have eaten some soap.

The whole time through the eating and bathing I could slowly feel myself stressing out. I constantly told myself to just be calm, and nurturing toward my baby, and cuddle him when he cries. I had to let him know that even though his favourite man in the world couldn't be there, I would do my best. I've come miles from the early colic days where I would lose it after being with him all day.

Just stay calm. Everything will be alright. And it is.

I struggled to get him dressed and then he finally calmed down with the help of my boobs, and watched Big Brother while eating my red polka dot scarf.

I needed a shower so I put the high chair in front of the shower. I put him in there, dummy in mouth and a container in his hand. I took of my short and he played with that too.

The floor wasn't even in the shower so he began to rock the chair back and forth and thought it was hilarious. He managed to get it right up against the shower door and began banging it.

So he had gone from screaming and crying to laughing with delight.I quickly got changed and sat him in front of the television as we watched the rest of Big Brother (why is there nothing on TV on a Wednesday night!) as I scoffed the casserole my mum was so kid to put in the slow cooker before I drove her to the airport - thanks Mum!

He began to get cranky so I fed him and now he is asleep on my lap as I type this on my iPhone.

This is only day one. I'm reminded tonight how blessed I am to have a husband like Hendrik, and how much he does that I take for granted and don't realise until he takes a night off.

Now I just need to get through tomorrow night.

One year on

A sunset in Bali
- as beautiful as the island and the people that live there

But then something happens. Something that doesn't come within ten solar planets of what I expect. A group of lunatics rip bombs through a nightclub district in Bali on Saturday.

- Does My Head Look Big in This? by Randa Abdel-Fattah

How funny it is that this is in the chapter of the book I'm reading at the moment there's this - on the 10 year anniversary of the Bali Bombings.

For those of you who have been living under a rock, I love Indonesia. I love it so much that it was only natural that I married a man from Jakarta. 

While Indonesia is so close to my heart, I can't deny the fact that I'm Australian.

2002 was the first time I ever went to Indonesia. I remember Mum booked the flight insisting that I go because "back in my day I never had these kinds of opportunities."

Just prior to going, at 16 years of age, the first of my immediate family to ever go overseas, I was scared. Not of terrorism, but just genuinely afraid of going overseas, getting sick, or anything - I was naturally an anxious person. I was trying so hard for something to 'happen' before I went so that I wouldn't have to.

I got on the plane, and I went. I arrived in Bali and went straight on a plane to Yogyakarta. We had a few days in Bali on the way home. And I fell in love.

My Mum went to Bali a few months later. I was certain I would return to Indonesia some day.

Then a few months later this happened. I was on a church camp and people told me that there had been an earthquake in Bali, knowing that I loved Indonesia. It then turned out that someone must have heard wrong. It was a terrorist attack!

I remember arriving at school the following Monday, feeling a bit devastated, and my wonderful Indonesian teacher debriefing us and explaining what happened.

I didn't get to see the memorial service today, but just watching clips on it now is really moving. A muslim lady is seen holding a flower before putting it in the water, praying for her loved one. While the bombers were Muslim, innocent Muslims also died. I don't think this is a war against Islam or any religion. Or country.

John Howard is adorable. And good on Julia and Mr. Abbot for attending also. But where is Mr. Rudd? And more importantly... WHERE IS MR. YUDUYONO???

While people say that our relationship between Australia and Indonesia has gotten stronger, I think there's definitely still work to be done. Australia could be more welcoming to Indonesians coming to Australia, and the Indonesian president could definitely make more of an effort.

We need to NOT cut Indonesian out of our curriculum. So many schools where I offer my services say, "oh, we're phasing Indonesian out."

Whenever I have taught Indonesian some smart arse has to say "Indonesians are all terrorists." Yeah, because Indonesians didn't die as well? Because my husband and his family and all my Indonesian friends really have alternate motives to plant a bomb in my car. It's just not like that. And we can't wipe out this narrow minded point of view if we just abolish Indonesian from schools - especially since in the past there has genuinely been big successes by having it as part of the learning program. Ok, I'm raving.

Don't worry, Julia. It's the story of my life. When I go to Indonesia nobody makes the effort to meet with me, either.

Why Jakarta has better roads than Melbourne

3 years ago with Sang Kotak

I remember the first time I ever drove in Jakarta. It was a great experience. I loved honking my horn in my husbands Suzuki Karimun, or as I like to call it 'sang kotak' ('the box'). The local school kids were amazed at the sight of a white girl driving in their neighbourhood and began to wave at me. Usually the closest they get to white people is seeing them on the television.

I never feel unsafe in Jakarta. I have more often than not felt unsafe right around my neighbourhood here in Melbourne. 

I believe Jakarta's roads are not only safer, but also, in some ways, much better all around. I'm not talking about the quality of roads - definitely not. We once hit a rock in the middle of a broken road and I had to direct traffic. The fact that I was white did not add to the novelty for all the angry Indonesian commuters.

Here are some reasons why I think Jakarta is not just safer than Melbourne for driving:

Source

1. Jakarta roads are safer because there are no high speed crashes
On a good day, it can take 1 hour to drive a kilometer. Basically, how can you have a high speed crash if you never get the chance to go high speed? The term for this is macet meaning congested. My favorite saying for this is macet total!

2. Trying to park your stretch limo? No worries!
There's an unwritten rule in Jakarta. You just flash your headlights and somebody will come and direct you to park your car. They shout a set of instructions from "terus" (keep going) "kiri" (left) "kanan" (right) "lurus" (straighten up). This service is about rp 15.000 (20 cents) and is available in most shopping centres - big or small.

3. Dehydrated? Not a problem!
On the side of many roads closer to the centre of Jakarta are people selling peanuts, bananas, newspapers and water. And on those days when the traffic just wont move, you can always jump out and there's bound to be a street seller not far away!

4. Roads are so safe, you barely need rules
You don't need a car seat or seatbelts in the back seat. A family of four can ride a motorbike with no helmets.

A banci in Bandung
Photo courtesy my Sister

5. The roads can be entertaining
Often there will be people playing their guitar or performing some kind of act. In Bandung we see lots of she-males. We call them banci.

A boy offering his services

6. The roads create jobs.
People give themselves work by getting in the middle of traffic and starting to direct it. Basically if they let you give way, it means you give them money. I also once saw kids offering to get into cars so that the businessmen could go down the express lane as they needed more than one person in the car. When they make or repair roads, they make them so they aren't good quality, so that when they are continuously unroadworthy (pardon the pun) they can go back and fix them all over again to get more work.

7. Fuel saving traffic lights
I used to wonder why they had traffic lights that counted down - it's so that you can turn off your engine while waiting. Not only does this save fuel, it also helps to cut down emissions. A win win all around!

So where would you rather be?

tomatoes are fruit and other stories

A few days ago I noticed a few days ago that Luke had two tiny teeth pushing through. While he is no more cranky than usual, he has definitely turned feral. He seems a bit more restless than usual. And he talks a lot more as his coping mechanism. So much for me last week boasting to toothful babies parents about me not getting teeth until 9 months and that meaning I had better teeth.

This morning I woke up and forgot to make my husband lunch. I quickly scrambled some ingredients together as he finished getting ready and offered to take him to the train station. I really wanted to take him to the train station as it meant I could go and get a coffee before a lady comes to my house at 10. Yep, I'm starting another mothers group. With the Department of Education. One minute I'm abandoning all chances of working with them again, the next minute I'm voluntarily involving myself!

A trip to get coffee also is a chance to go to Coles and get any ingredients I may have missed due to forgetting to take the shopping list with me to Knox yesterday.

While in Coles I was looking for chopped onion in a can - because like many Aussies I hate cutting onion. I became angry that the canned tomatoes were in the vegetable aisle - tomatoes are a fruit. No canned onions anyway - in hindsight maybe I should have checked the canned fruit aisle.

I approached the express aisle with an onion, two carrots and three litres of milk. There was one lady on the whole checkout and because it was 8am it was very quiet. The lady was actually a young girl. I'd say it wouldn't have been long since she had left school. She didn't want to engage with any conversation. As I handed her my FlyBuy's card I asked if the whole $5 would actually count at me.

"I dunno!" She moaned.

I tried to make a joke about "tapping" my card on the eftpos machine to which she basically just rolled her eyes. Hey, I don't care if you don't like my joke, but cheer up. I'm the customer and you should provide me with magic moments that make me want to spend every day in your silly supermarket. Lucky I didn't pull the tomatoes-are-fruit-why-are-they-in-the-canned-vegetable-aisle on her.

I went to collect my bags and noticed she had put milk in one and the two VEGETABLES in another. Coming from the bagless state my recycling tendencies kicked in.

"Oh, it's okay, I don't need two bags!" I said as I started taking the vegetables out and putting them in the other bag. She completely ignored me and started serving the other customer and plonking more bags next to mine. She then snatched the empty bag away and tossed it in the bin under her register. So much for my effort to save the planet.

I felt so annoyed by this lady. Something I really value is good customer service. There are so many people, and might I add decent people, who are not fortunate to have a job in times when they are so scarse. I was thinking to complain about her to management, along with the fact that the canned tomatoes are in the wrong aisle. Instead I just walked out of Coles and felt really robbed of my shopping experience.

I was barely metres from the exit when I could hear a little voice behind me.

"Excuse me!"

I turned around and there was a little girl chasing after me.

"You forgot your purse".

And sure enough there was my big red wallet in her hand. I'm so lucky I only ever taught once at the school next to Coles so that kids can't remember the clumsy teacher.

My philosophy on this morning's events:

- Just because I teethed at 9 months doesn't give me another 3 months grace with Luke.
- I'm smarter than whoever it is that decides where things go in Coles.
- Don't dwell on negative things such as moody check out chicks - you might forget your wallet.
- For every moody check out chick in this world there is a sweet child wanting to make a difference.