I Have Not Washed My Hair In Many Days - or - On the Road Again

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Dear Everyone,
First of all, unfortunately I don't have my camera connector cable so
I can't put pictures up, but to compensate I have made a faithful,
detailed recreation of the best graffiti I've seen in a while, in red
paint on the side of a white house bordering a canal next to a rice
field in Middle of Nowhere, East Java.

And so, my backpack and I find ourselves once again on the road, ever
in search of enlightenment among the trees. Unfortunately, as yet in
my travels there haven’t been quite as many trees as I would like, but
then in very few places are there as many trees as I would like! As
exhausting as it is, I rather enjoy this turtle-like existence (my
backpack is even an appealing shade of green). It's strangely
comforting to carry your whole life on your back and know that no
matter where you get stuck for however long, you have nearly
everything you could ever need right there. It's liberating to know
that you can pick up and go anywhere in ten minutes or less; the world
is my oyster, although sometimes I get sand in my eyes.

Anyway, at the moment (although that doesn’t say much – the last 7
days have seen me in 8 different cities) I’m in a town called Tarakan
on a small island at the mouth of a river in the northern part of the
province of East Kalimantan, the Indonesian part of Borneo, with the
intention of visiting a project site a ways up the river. I don’t
know if I’ll be able to make it, though – travel here is rather
restrictive and capricious, and I don’t have a lot of time. Not a
good combination! For example, there might be a plane that maybe goes
to one town I want to go to, but only Tuesday or Thursday, and that’s
if I can get a seat, which I probably can’t. The other town is only
reachable by boat, and there might be boats coming and going when I
want to go and come back – but maybe not. So I guess we’ll see where
the next week takes me! The last week has certainly been interesting.

Singapore was pretty great, even though I was only there for about a
day and a half and didn’t do much but conduct an interview, ride the
bus and read Pride and Prejudice in the Coffee Bean, haha. It was a
nice little taste of the developed world to start my travels, haha -
they have MILK in Singapore! Real milk! And cereal! My friend's dad
and their maids must have thought I was crazy, I drank like 5 glasses
of milk with every meal I ate there, haha. (On a slightly unrelated
note pertaining to food quantities, I haven't figured out whether I
eat a lot or a little by Indonesian standards. Men and people my age
say things like "Have more! Take more! Please, you're not eating
enough!" But middle aged women say things like "Wow, you eat a lot,"
and "Geez, are you pregnant?" Talk about mixed messages). My friend's
parents' house where I stayed was BEAUTIFUL. Although Singapore is
practically nothing but one blockish apartment building after another,
they actually have a house with a yard, and 3 servants. Their house
is very...Chinese, is the best way to describe it, but not in the
heavy dark wood, silk screens and fans European Chinoiserie kind of
way. It was Chinese in its simplicity, its sharp angles and muted
colors, its tasteful placement of the few ornaments that were there.
The kids' rooms upstairs all had simply a bed, a desk, and about a
million books in beautiful wooden bookshelves that also occupied the
walls of the common space joining the bedrooms. And they had a FISH
POND, INSIDE the house! I twas the coolest thing ever. In short, it
was a very striking house. But the best part was not experiencing the
aesthetic pleasures of a beautiful space, but rather being...home.
Maybe not MY home, but someone's. As a person obliged to spend so
much time away from home, I appreciate beyond measure staying in
places that are clearly home to someone, places that are loved by the
people who love each other within them. It's the next best thing to
being in the place that I miss so much.

After Singapore I made my way - by plane, then disorganized belated
plane, then train and taxi and motorbike - to a town in East Java
where one of my interviewees had suggested I talk to the local NGO - a
division of his own - and see if I could maybe visit the community
forestry project they were working on with villages nearby. Basically
I arrived at their office with no plan, no expectations and merely a
vague hope that they could tell me where to spend the night and maybe
how to get to their project site. But somehow, an hour later, I was
receiving an exhaustive lecture on the NGO's history and activities
while they arranged not only for my to get permission from the local
and district governments to be there, visit the site, stay with one
of the member's families and meet with the project organizers, but
also to meet just about everyone in town involved with the project. I
love serendipity. And eager Indonesian NGOs.

And thus, not two hours later I was on the back of a motorbike,
speeding through neat geometric rows of rubber trees on the way to a
small village on the border (in conservation lingo we call this the
"buffer zone") of a national park. I spent the next 3 days in the
almost constant company of 3 chain-smoking, innuendo filled (In
Indonesia, our bananas are small, but strong!) jolly Javanese men who
seemed to have nothing else to do but tell me anything and everything
having to do with this project from dawn until dusk, and then after
dinner too. I was paying them, but still, I was surprised that it
seemed like there were really no other pressing needs on their time
for these three whole days. Their wives, however, if the lady of the
house where I was staying is any indication, work basically nonstop.
I didn't talk with her much, but I saw that in addition to being a
housewife she was also a seamstress, making 3 meals a day over a wood
fire with water that had to be boiled before it could be used,
sometimes staying up late into the night at her foot-pedal sewing
machine. I would have liked to talk to her more, but she was pretty
reserved, and I was always so worn out with talking to the guys all
day and all night!

I don't know if I mentioned this before, but in Indonesia it is super
weird to be alone, ever. In the course of every introductory
conversation people ask "Where are your friends? Are you ALONE?!" And
when I reply that I am, they say things like "Oh, how sad!" and "Wow!
Aren't you scared?!" Even errands are done with company - one of my
teachers at Realia told me that she, like me, enjoys being alone
sometimes, much to the consternation of her Indonesian brethren. She
said that even when she'd just go shopping by herself, and people
would say "What? But where are your children? Where is your husband?!"
Families generally even sleep together, and in fact one taxi driver
asked me, upon establishing that I was by myself, "Wow, so you sleep
alone? All alone? You're not scared?" I explained to him that in
Amerika children usually sleep alone and families seldom sleep all
together, but he still felt sorry for me, haha. In any case, the
Indonesian custom of constant company has seldom affected me, because
I'm generally only socializing with people for set periods of time,
then going back to my room/apartment. But while living in the
village, people were always around! I had a room, obviously, but it
was right off of the main living room, so I couldn't exactly subtly
disappear from company (and when I did I could hear them still talking
about me through the door). In the end I think I ended up probably
being rather rude, by Indonesian standards, by simply excusing myself
sometimes and reading in my room for a while, much to general
confusion, haha. I can't talk all the time! I just CAN'T!
Especially in a room filled with cigarette smoke in a language that's
not my own! (I realized when I called my mom after I got back that
talking to her was the first time I'd spoken English in three or four
days). No, I definitely don't have an Indonesian disposition, haha.
At one point I apologized to one of my hosts, the man who had
originally arranged everything for me. I tried to explain tat I'm
used to being alone, that I don't want to offend (there's no word for
"rude" in Indonesian. Nor, incidentally, does the verb "to be" exist).
"It's okay, we know maybe your culture is different," he said. "We
are Indonesian culture, but we also human. No problem!" (These, by
the way, are two of my favorite words to hear here, especially in,
say, district government offices, where I don't really exactly have
the right kind of visa or paperwork to be doing what I'm doing, but
I'm cuteish and from Amerika and can explain why I'm here in such a
way as to make it seem like it's something else, and then look
innocent and pretend I don't understand if they ever look at me with
stern faces like there might be something wrong. I can do innocent
like a champion. But anyway. No problem!)

Every day I'm more grateful that I've studied Indonesian as much as I
have, and I wonder how my two Yale compatriots also doing research in
Indoensia are getting by having only studied it for one semester
without any intensive study here. I'm not fluent by any means, but
I'm pretty good, and I'm more or less comfortable with it, and I can
understand most of the words people say (although it helps that I'm
generally either talking about (a) forestry or (b) myself. I get a
little lost when trying to explain how to attach a file to an email to
the guy next to me in the internet cafe, or when nervous young airport
workers are trying to explain to me why they arbitrarily closed
check-in for my flight an hour early, and I might be able to get on a
flight later, but maybe not until tomorrow). Most people here can
speak at least a few words of English, especially younger people
because everyone learns it in school, but these farmer and NGO guys
definitely can't speak a word. They're very patient with me, haha.
They try to rephrase things when I don't understand, listen as I
slowly repeat back to them what I gathered from their explanations,
wait as I look up words in my little dictionary. But still, I'm in
this town in Nowhere, East Java interviewing people about agroforestry
and rehabilitation zones and making traditional medicines, and I just
have no idea how I could be doing it without my intensive study at
Realia, and I'm thankful, haha.

You know, it's crazy to realize that you can speak a language. I had
this epiphany during my first Indonesian-language interview in
Jakarta, when i realized that although I couldn't grasp everything he
said, I WAS SPEAKING INDONESIAN. Moreover, although sometimes his
complicated sentence structure rendered his meaning out of reach of my
limited syntax, thanks to the painstaking work of my teachers at
Realia, I knew the words he was using! (my Indonesian vocabulary is
weighted quite heavily away from phrases like "Do you have these shoes
in my size?" and more toward ones like "natural resource management"
and "threat of deforestation" and "policy development and
implementation." In fact, come to think of it, I know how to say
neither "shoes" nor "size." The only word for "size" I know is
actually literally "vastness" and is used to describe areas of land in
hectares). Anyway. Indonesian. I speak it. And it's pretty awesome.

Other than the value of being able to speak the local language,
another thing that struck me as we breezed past cacao and rubber trees
on our way to the district government office was the fact that I DID
THIS. Now, on one hand this is entirely false: all of the interviews
that I've done, all of the places I've visited and people I've talked
to were direct results of other people's connections, suggestions,
arrangements. But on the other hand, I came to Indonesia with two
contacts in the Ministry of Environment, one advertisement for a
conference relating to my topic, and one appointment for at least two
weeks of language study. I mean it - no hotel reservations, nowhere
to stay in any of the cities I planned on visiting, no friends, no
other contacts, no solid plans. Add to these slim preparations ZERO
"networking" experience or aptitude, grad student gaucherie, and a
deep-seated aversion to asking anyone for anything when my ability to
reciprocate is not immediately apparent. Frankly I'm blown away that
I've managed to meet and talk to a pretty good chunk of everyone who's
anyone in the field I'm researching, to visit one project and maybe
another, and to accumulate a string of Facebook friends trailing
through every part of Indonesia I've visited (everyone here has
Facebook. I mean everyone. It's unbelievable). Basically a good deal
of what I've had to do this summer has been either against my nature
or out of the realm of my experience or both, and when I look back at
what I've accomplished - or even as I'm accomplishing it - I'm a
little astonished. So that's kind of cool.

So I guess that brings us up to where I am now, here in this rather
cell-like hotel room in Tarakan, East Kalimantan, Indonesian Borneo.
There is one more thing I've been meaning to write abotu since I
stared my wanderings, and that is something I call "Indonesian Travel
Yoga." Since my glorious stint in Jogya of doing yoga almost every
day for a week and a half, I've been doing some of my favorite yoga
positions (read: the ones i can remember) as a routine with some
regularity. Sadly, as I've been traveling I've mostly lacked either
the sapace or anything mat-like to pad teh tile floors to continue
this practice. Luckily, though, simply traveling in this country
provides a number of specific muscular workouts in teh form of poses
one must assume on a regular basis. I will share some of my favorites
here. Yoga positions are usually named in Sanskrit according to what
they imitate or symbolize, but seeing as I don't know Sanskrit and I'm
in Indonesia, not India, I've taken the liberty of naming them as I
see fit.

1. Letak Nyamuk ("Mosquito Pose")
In this position one lays on one's side with one's head tucked in and
arms as close as possible to the body.

In this pose one could symbolically imagine oneself curled up in their
narrow silk sleeping bag from Vietnam, attempting with all of their
mental and physical powers to keep every part of their body away from
the crowd of menacingly hovering mosquitoes just beyond the silk.

Pose stretches and contorts arms, neck, back muscles.

2. Letak Kamar Kecil ("Bathroom Pose")
In this position one squats with one's feet flat on the ground,
dropping the rear all the way down until the bottom and torso
essentially form a pendulum supported by the legs bent at the knees.

Now, this is an actual yoga position, although I forget the name and
most of you probably wouldn't recognize it anyway. I can't do it. I"m
actually completely incapable of making my body do this. I don't know
why. But, as my one Indonesian yoga instructor mentioned, it's a pose
that most Westerners utterly can't achieve, and one that all
Indonesians can assume as naturally as breathing. Because the thing
is, outside of the few big cities, nowhere has Western bathrooms, not
even airports. An Indonesian bathroom is a ceramic hole in teh floor
- essentially a toilet bowl sunk into the ground - with places for
your feet on either side, next to a water-filled basin and a plastic
dipper. To my infinite unhappiness, I will never be able to do use
these facilities gracefully or comfortably as Indonesians are able.
Having previously torn ligaments in both knees makes things even less
fun.
One last thing: there is never any toilet paper, anywhere. This
remains a mystery that I'd honestly rather not plumb. I carry my own
and don't ask.

Pose strengthens leg, back, stomach muscles.

3. Letak Cuci Rambut ("Hair-Washing Pose")

**Aside: for those of you who have eaten or heard of the delightfully
delectable fruit "rambutan," this is indeed an Indonesian word:
"rambut" meaning "hair" and "-an" being the suffix making a noun
characterized by the root word. Thus "rambutan" means "hairy thing,"
which makes sense if you've seen one. Other Indonesian words you
might know: "durian" (from "duri" meaning "hard," so "hard thing,"
justified given that they're giant spiky lumps that usually fall about
50 ft from giant trees and remain intact) and "orangutan" ("orang"
meaning "people," and "hutan" meaning "forest," so "people of the
forest").**

This pose is assumed by standing straight up, tehn bending backwards
with one's arms over one's head.

This, too, is actually very similar to an official yoga pose, whose
name I don't know but which is the second pose in a sun salutation.
In this pose, one could imagine oneself reluctantly bathing in cold
water from aforementioned basin with aforementioned dipper. One is
obligated to occasionally wash one's hair because maybe the last time
this happened was at least four or five cities ago, but one
passionately hates cold water, and wishes to wash the hair with as
little water-body contact as possible. Thus one would bend backward,
holding the dipper above the head, in order that water should fall on
the floor rather than the back. Symbolically, of course.

Pose strengthens lower back, stomach muscles.

4. Letak Naik Motor ("Motorcycle Riding Pose")

This pose might require some auxiliary elements to practice at home
(folded blanket, exercise ball, etc). Nor is it actually explainable
without a reference to its inspiration. This pose is what you might
assume if you find yourself obligated to cling for your life to the
seat of a motorbike while the 40lb backpack on your back is
endeavoring with every second - and especially up hills - to pull you
off. Accordingly, your stomach and back muscles are painfully
engaged, your legs are straining as hard as possible, and one arm -
both won't fit - is white-knuckled on the handle at the back of the
seat, pushing forward and encouraging balance, that one might not be
dragged off said motorbike by said backpack and suffer unfortunate
injury between pavement and oncoming traffic.

Pose strengthens whole body, but results in soreness and occasional
frayed nerves. Not recommended for beginners. Or often.

This lesson in Indonesian Travel Yoga has been brought to you by a
number of cities in East Java and East Kalimantan. Also the number 8,
the letter B and the color orange.

I like Indonesia because even when I never shave my legs or wear
makeup and always wear gym shorts and flip flops and never wash my
hair people still think I'm pretty love,
Katie 😊

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