Flight mode

Next time, I'm flying Garuda.

Or finding a carrier that doesn't have this crazy midnight flight.

Today/tonight's blog comes from flight DJ 4105. It has been a long day. The sun is just coming up. My iPhone lock, still on Jakarta time says 1:27. That means its 5:27 in Melbourne.

Today, or should I say yesterday, started at 4am with a little boy who refused to sleep. I'm very grateful for my early-bird mother in law who kindly took Luke so we could get some rest.

We decided to do this the cheap way. We got return flights on Virgin (on the way via Perth) to Denpasar, and then AirAsia to Jakarta.

All seemed to go well on the way (apart from being slugged with a rp 60.000 late fee on AirAsia, and my wallowing 'ohhhhh kasihani aku pak... Saya bawa bayi' totally didn't work and made me look like a fool.) but I think when you go TO your destination you're full of excitement. Then when coming home, the realities of work and chores are faced... And then there's the midnight flight.

I'm unimpressed with AirAsia - I have to pay for Luke on a domestic flight, yet he isn't entitled to any extra carry on (every other airline he was). As Hendrik took shirts out of his luggage to make it less than 20kg, I opened up my little shpheel in frustration about how the heck I am supposed to accommodate for my babies needs. My indonesian seems to be better when I'm angry.

The flight was delayed for over an hour. A good 40 minutes of that sitting on the Tarmac. Coming down was painful, I haven't been well in the last few days - which meant my ears felt like they were going to drop off. This is probably because altitude changes pretty dramatically when you fly to Denpasar as the airport is on sea level. I had had my teeth cleaned in the morning at the dentist, and they ached like crazy! It's safe to say Luke and I were both in tears.

I was almost relieved to get on Virgin, which is strange. There's nothing wrong with them - other than they don't fly to Jakarta! It just felt like there was a sense of efficiency, unlike the queue upon queue at Denpasar airport. That said Im lucky I can jump the queue because my son is Indonesian, so we get to go in the Indonesian line, not with the hundreds of tourists (I Fred to know what the airport is like at peak season!)

It was also a relief to be around Australians, that don't ask why my baby cries!

Anyway, the sun is coming up. I'm going to catch some Zs while I can.

I know this blog makes me sound like i hate indonesia, i don't. I just miss the efficiency of things At home (hope im not speaking too soon). Particularly with a young baby in tow. God has taught me so much about patience since being here. Flying with Luke has definitely conquered my fear of flying.

I'm coming, Melbourne.

(flight mode, upload when I touch down)

The Balloon

Upon arrival in Jakarta, I handed Luke to Hendrik so that he could introduce him to his parents (Luke's Grandparents). Luke leaped straight into Popo's (Grandmas) arms as she gave him a big, red, Mickey Mouse balloon that she had bought especially for him. Knowing my devout Chinese mother in law, it had to be red.

Luke loves balloons. How did she know? I could only dream of having balloons like this when I was young.

Days passed. Luke played with the balloon every day. It as full of helium attached to a stone wrapped in plastic by fishing string (which I was admittedly a bit wary of).

Soon, the helium began to deflate. Luke sat outside in his pram overlooking my Mother in Laws collection of various plants including hibiscus and Aloe Vera under the veranda.

I threw the balloon up to the roof of the veranda and it would float back down to Luke slowly. It was the perfect toy. Luke laughed with glee as he caught the balloon. I could get rid of the dangerous string and stone given the little amount of helium inside.

Or so I thought.

I threw the balloon into the air, and it missed the roof. Seeing as it always went back down I didn't feel too concerned.

Up it went. Up, up, up. Luke watched in anticipation for it to come down. so did I.

The red balloon flying above out house

The balloon caught the breeze and began to fly above the car port. Surely it will run out of helium soon, right?

But up it continued. Up, up, up. Luke began to cry as he reached out for the balloon which flew further away from him.

I watched the balloon as it flew past the rooftops of the houses across the street. Maybe my mother in law would catch it on her way home from her morning exercise with her girlfriends? I don't think so. It just kept flying. Up, up, up.

I called Hendrik.

Can YOU see the red speck?

"Say..." (which is short for 'sayang' meaning 'darling') I said, as Luke sobbed beside me. "Can you see that red speck in the sky?"

"Ummm... No." He replied

I moved him to the left. "How about now?"

"No...?" he said, now confused what I was getting at.

"Well, that's Luke's balloon." I confessed.

"WHAT!?"

Maybe we will see it when we fly back to Australia. I felt so guilty letting the balloon go. Would Luke forgive me?

I was playing with Luke on the floor on Saturday morning when I heard a honking noise. I knew it was a seller of some sort as they often come past selling bread, vegetables, bakso, congee and the like. To my surprise, it was a man selling balloons! (A bit like what you see in American movies at the Zoo)

Image not mine

I ran outside and asked the man how much. 10,000 rupiah (one dollar). My father in law told the seller it was too expensive. I wasn't going to argue about what would probably be a 20 cent saving. 10,000 rupiah can buy so much more in Indonesia than it can in Australia. I'm happy to support people who are actively in search of an income in a good way by not stealing or corrupting.

I gave the man the 10,000 rupiah which will probably cover his lunch. I was confused which balloon to buy. The same one? A spongebob? How about Doraemon!

I gave Luke the big blue Doreamon balloon and he smiled. Such little price for a piece of joy and support for another.

Image not mine

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.