Today wasn't quite as eventful as the past two days, but it ended really well, so I'm still buzzing.
We had a sleep in today until 8:30 and even though I woke up at 7:30 (1:30pm New Zealand time, so my general wake up time anyway), I had a snooze (schmooze, vamoose - I just like words that end in ooze) until breakfast. This morning was Helena's challenge to try honey jam and I joined her with half a slice. It tastes...like jam, strangely enough, but super runny. There you go.
We were picked up by the head of the programme and walked to the Cafe au Lait. On the way, we passed a man sleeping (I hope) on a bench - he had a massive lump on his head that was bleeding, flecks of rice stuck to his face and blackened feet with bloody toenails. I assumed he was homeless, and I had no idea what to do. All twenty of us walked on by, as did every other passer by - what can you do? Should I have left him money? Should I have called a doctor? The grim reality is that I felt there wasn't something I could do, short of setting up a soup kitchen and half way house. Of course, I could have called a doctor for him, and I probably should have, but the awful thing is, I felt that I didn't have enough money to pay for a doctor's visit, when he would be back on the street as soon as I left him. I don't give money to beggars back home in New Zealand either - we don't have many, but I pass them every now and then. I think I've given money to one person, and yet what do I spend my money on? Food to make me fatter and alcohol. People say, why give beggars money, they'll use it for drugs and alcohol. One, who knows what they'll use it for, and two, I agree with Lazy Boy's song Underpants Go Inside the Pants when it says, what the heck else would you spend it on if you were homeless? I guess what I'm trying to say with this rant is that I'm appalled at my own apathy, and I really need to stop moralizing on blogs and get out to actually help people! Check back later, gang, but fingers crossed I've joined City Mission when I get back. Maybe there's something I can do here on the weekends?
We arrived at the cafe and I ordered a Double Chocolate Espresso and Kwetiaw Goreng (I think), which was like Phad Thai but slightly different spices - yummmm (on the programme, yusss). We were then introduced to our programme officer, who gave us a run down on the basics of our course and the state of Indonesia. It was very interesting and Reuters has a good summary page if anyone is interested. One of the scary things she told us was that defamation is a criminal offence in Indonesia and that truth is not a defence, which is pretty terrifying for journalists. We were told about dress codes (generally girls were trousers or below the knee skirts and three quarter sleeve tops with high necklines, boys were pants and shirts - all very difficult when it's so sweltering and muggy that you just want to run around in singlets, shorts and jandals! Oh yeah, shoes have to be closed toe. ARGH!) and general protocol - don't try ringing on a Friday because most people will be at prayers, etc.
After the run down, which was mostly boring journalist stuff (pitch ideas, source stories, do your research, talk talk talk to people for ideas) I sat and had a chat with the other programme attendees and argued NZ politics pretty passionately to Peter, who good naturedly put up with my soap box spouting, as Helena rightly calls it, for QUITE a while. During my rant, there was a MASSIVE downpour and cracks of lightening that set off car alarms in the street, and very briefly made me think it was an earthquake (Canterbury got to me, I guess).
When the rain had died down a bit, Helena and I and some of the Australian students went for a wander to find a department store. The Australians decided to head back soon afterwards when the drizzling didn't stop and we ran the risk of getting completely drenched in soiled water from the cars zooming by, but Helena and I struggled womanfully on, which I thought was worthwhile, as I needed the exercise (the fried food is NOT helping my post-Christmas figure) and saw some of the richer areas of Jakarta - check Facebook for photos but these houses were insane - huge mansions with golden scrolling on their balconies, entire streets blocked off to public (read, peasant) access by barrier arms and the first true footpaths and rubbish bins we'd seen in Jakarta so far. The streets were clean - even the leaves were being swept up. The roads were straight, lined with trees and EMPTY, which is unheard of here. It was a bit disgusting, but then I am no saint (see above) and I hoped that some of the people had given money to charities etc. More than likely, however, they were all government officials who had gotten those houses by stealing money that was meant to make Indonesia a better place to live for poorer people. Cheerful!
We successfully navigated our way back to the shopping centre right next to our hotels and decided to buy much-needed shirts as a reward. Mine is AWESOME, and only cost around$7 NZ. Woot! We then headed home, to wait on some of the Australians to email us their kos address so we could check it out (we check out of our hotel TOMORROW). Several texts and hours on Facebook later, we had had no word. BUT then several of our fellow Rota Hotel-stayers knocked on our door and invited us to come eat - we thought it was at a warung, but it turned out to be a restaurant-type eating place, where literally 15 or so small dishes of different foods were brought to our table and whatever you tried, you paid for, like yum cha. IT WAS AMAZING! The food in Indonesia is, I don't know if I've said this before, FANTASTIC. My favourite was dentang (I think), which was eight hour stewed duck and it was delicious - richhhhhh flavours and perfectttt meat. Yummm, I am drooling as I speak. There was also slimy eggplant with pesto type stuff, chilli squid, spicy jerky, beef tongue satay, dried spinach, spicy shrimp, things I swear were cockles, some wonton type things, and more. We also tried to order avocado and coffee smoothies, but unfortunately didn't get it right and ended up with condensed milk and coconut icies, which were far too sweet, but quite nice. We also ate with our hands, which was super sweet and I think a common practice? On the way back, I tried to negotiate another Indo sim card from a street stall, but luckily waited to have it installed, since it turned out it, and all the other sims there, were expired. This also turned out to be lucky, since I paid (and was given back) 15,000 rupiah, and sim cards cost about 2000 in the shops. So providence was smiling on me today! Then it was back home to catch up with one of the other Rotas, cold shower, upload some photos, and BED. Class starts at 8:30 am tomorrow and Helena and I have to taxi to Uni with our enormous packs, since we're out of this hotel tomorrow. Fingers crossed we find a kos tomorrow and I don't call my Bahasa teacher a rabid hippopotamus in class.
Selamat jalan!
LESSONS LEARNT 3:
- Don't do anything important with your left hand - it is associated with certain unhygienic parts of the body
- Everyone appreciates someone who tries the language!
- Get sim cards and top ups installed FOR you, in front of you, and be nice
- Ask general prices of a friendly local or handy helper, so you're not getting hugely gipped
- Save up when at home - spend it when you travel - I am SO BROKE right now, uwaaaah!
- Walking is good for you and you see and experience more that way anyway
- INDONESIAN FOOD IS AMAZING
- Eating with utensils is overrated
- Trying new foods is a great way to find new addictions - I have become a dentang zombie (dentangggggg)
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