Always Check the Adam's Apple

Term 1 is over and done with.  Already a quarter of the way through my first year…craziness.  A mere 70 days until I grace ‘Merica with my presence.  Be ready y’all.  But listen to me go on and on about what’s to be when we have yet another adventure to discuss:  Thailand.

There is really only one word to describe Thailand:  lady boys.  All nice enough people and like to have their fun, but others so painfully obvious that they haunt your dreams.  I’m sure this will happen to Dingle (my travel buddy) eventually, if it hasn’t already.  But alas, I’m getting ahead of myself.  Our first day in Patong (part of Phuket) consisted of taking in our surroundings and hitting the beach.  After catching the infamous shuttle back to our hotel, we traveled up the stretch of beach that was near our hotel and pretty secluded during low tide (try not to question our heterosexuality when you read that last sentence).  It was pretty beautiful…though not as beautiful as the ‘woman’ that Dingle went on a date with.  For those that can’t connect the dots:  We came to a tentative agreement later that she had man parts.  What an idiot!  (*kicking my leg* For those that actually get that joke)

Bangla Road was an experience within itself.  We had been coerced into buying tickets to an ‘all westerners’ type bar with unlimited drink from 11-1.  Uh….yes, please.  We found some others to party with (a couple of Aussies and Hosers) and carried around buckets (literally) of adult beverages until we hopped over to the next bar.  The walk to bar #2 was probably the most interesting part of the night (though Dingle doesn’t remember it).  Stripper poles at the front of an open air bar for all to see and guys every other step asking us if we want to attend a ping pong show.  This consisted of…uh….’veteran’ women and no ping pong paddles.  Your imagination can now run wild.  We didn’t attend and I don’t think we had to.  The night ended up me being accosted by a tuk-tuk (a kind of taxi) driver to buy weed and cocaine from him.  Most intelligently, pulling out the product for me (and all around) to see.  Needless to say, he was a winner.

The trip ended with us renting scooters and driving up the coast to different beaches and eating more authentic Thai food.  It was nice to have the freedom of driving again and the satisfaction that I stayed upright the whole trip (*cough* Dingle! *cough*).  Beaches were much cleaner and more beautiful than Patong Beach:  clear, green water with white sand.  Couldn’t ask for a better way to end the trip.  One $100 bag fine later, I made my way back to Jakarta for the grind of Term 2.  Though I can’t wait to get to the States, I’m already thinking of my next trip in March.  I’m thinking Vietnam/Cambodia or Perth, Australia.  Thoughts or opinions?  Well, ‘til next time everyone.  Enjoy ‘Merica and the inevitable cold that’s about to smack you square in the face.  If you need me, I’ll be out by the pool soaking up some cosmic rays.

That Shit Cra

I feel like I need to start off on a lighter note, so I've put in a picture of the North Americans atop Mount Batur.  Seems ages ago after the grind of the end of Term 1, but we're excited for our next adventure:  Thailand.  Myself and the other tall whitie in this picture (the tool tossing up the peace sign) are going to Phuket for 4-5 days to kick back and  relax:  lay-in, beach, lunch, beach, rage and repeat.


That's about the only good news I can give you as of right now.  School's going well and what not, but the turmoil around us is mounting and we've had to start altering our lifestyle due to safety issues. 

For those of you that have had your head in the sand the past couple weeks (like my students, who somehow know nothing about what's going on), the riots over the 'Innocence of Muslims' viral video have spread to Southeast Asia.  Indonesia, being 85-90% Muslim, has also seen its fair share of disdain as well.  Last Friday started with a peaceful demonstration to show their dislike over the video.  However, this past Monday's demonstration turned from march to riot very quickly.  Burning of US flags, burning of pictures of President Obama, etc. 

The view of Americans has never been good in predominantly Muslim countries.  We understood that going in, but every Indonesian thus far has made us feel welcome in their country.  Even if 120,000 people were part of this riot, that's only 1% of the entire population of Jakarta (yeah, I know. Crazy).  Every country and religion has extremists (as clearly evident with the ass clown that made that video), but the actions of the few should not reflect the attitudes of the many.  We can only hope, as we're in Indonesia, people understand that.  We're absolutely being smart about this.  I don't want anyone to worry. I'll just stop listening to "Livin
 in America" with the volume turned up all the way,  I'll buy a fake Canadian passport (that should make Talia and Ben happy at least) and, if anyone asks, french fries and gravy is my new favorite dish.

The Most Extreme State of Chill

'Uhh, sweet' is about the only thing I could think when we touched down in Bali last Wednesday.  From everything I've heard, Bali is a pretty cool place.  Being the type that doesn't expect much in case it isn't incredible, I was relatively blown away by how awesome this trip was.  The best way to describe Bali is that it's a poor man's Hawaii.  It has less of a touristy ambiance, it's dirt cheap and you can't drink the water.  A flight to Hawaii from the States, hotel for seven nights and the cost of activities/food would range anywhere from $2,000 to $3,000, respectively.  Our trip cost less than half that.  Love Southeast Asia.

After feeling the grind of everyday teaching in the Cambridge System (feel lucky American teachers) and being observed by the administration, I was ready to have a book burning and pee on the ashes.  I'm sure we were all at that point (others maybe a little more so).  When we found the beach our first day there, we all found our zen, didn't move a muscle and fried like the albinos we were.  Some of us failed to use sun tan lotion and paid the price (hope you're walking normally by now, Joe), but my state of chill could only be rivaled by Isaal's.  If anyone gets within 12-20 kilometers of Isaal's chill zone, they're doing pretty damn good.  

This is a sweet picture I saw in a magazine and attached it to this blog.  Psych! My fat ass scaled this somm bitch on Indonesia's Independence Day.  It was a happy coincidence that we did it on that day and we were rewarded by over a hundred proud nationals singing their national anthem.  It was about a 1770 meters up (roughly two miles) and we had to make the trek starting around 4:30 AM.  Why that early? Because the sunrise was beautiful and we would have died if we did that in 85 degree heat.  Our breakfast was made by our guides using the steam coming from the mountain.  Pretty neat stuff.

Kuta was just 20 minutes south of where we were staying and my wallet felt much lighter after going there.  Did I find jeans that fit me yet?  No.  Damn Indonesians and their abnormally small bodies!  But I'm fairly confident that if I was sharing a budget with my wife, I'd never take her to Kuta. Ever.  That shit cra.  Everything you could possibly want (minus jeans for normal sized individuals) could be find in Kuta.  I found some nice gifts for my friends and family (hint:  I can't post pictures on a public blog).  Pull your mind out the gutter (I'm talking to you, Dingle) and read on friends.

Ubud was the cultural hotbed of Bali.  Lines of stores with art, wood carvings and cultural products that you could haggle for.  And you all know how I like to haggle.  They want $40, you end up getting it for $25.  They want $10, you end of getting it for $5.  It's like going to the Denver Flea Market, but the merchants are nicer.  Any memory of Ubud (the zoo, the culture, etc) was masked that I finally received my first professional massage for, wait for it......$5. My roommate and I got into the van to go home and just looked at each other and smiled.  In a borderline coma because we were that relaxed. 

The thing I was looking to most was scuba diving.  I've never been a guy who's big into water sports.  I tend to just sink and I live in Iowa.  Enough said.  After a quick run through of what to do (which didn't exactly reassure me), we were off to a designated diving spot.  Though it took ten minutes to figure out how to squeeze in a wetsuit two sizes too small and even longer for them to get the damn tank on my back, we were all in the water and dropping 6 meters down near the reef.  My ears were protesting and it took me a while to rely solely on that little piece of plastic in my mouth to keep alive, but it was pretty beautiful down there.  The fish are crazy and it was amazing to see things yourself that you only see on the Discovery Channel. 

Of course, those that could handle the atmosphere (cough cough) raged hard the night before we left.  Taught all those Indonesians and Aussies how we do things in 'Merica.  Learned some things about my fellow teachers. Mostly, that they have a lot of pent up rage that they channel through dancing with themselves and others.  I could only imagine that those bars are like the bars in Panama City and Cancun:  a lot of bro's (Richter, if you haven't downed eight of the black death by now, I'm talking about your kind).

Well, another super long entry, but it was an eventful time in Bali.  The Bule Band is now back in Jakarta and getting back into the swing of work.  Joy.  Until next time, enjoy 'Merica and drink a diesel for me.  

Plug Your Nose...It Stanks!

It'd be like living in Muscatine or Cedar Rapids:  you would just get acclimated to the smell.  Nope, not here.  The view (right) out of my apartment window is great, but walk around the other side and you get knocked on your ass by the smell of the river.  No wonder, when you see people openly throwing trash into, what could be, nice waterways.  I'm not going to say its anywhere comparable to Amsterdam, but the former Dutch colony does have potential.  There's a lot to dislike, but a lot to enjoy about Jakarta.


Speaking of shit:  this is the first mention of the poor man's bidet in our bathroom.  Actually, there's an ass sprayer in every toilet stall.  Have I used or would I ever recount my experience with the ass sprayer? No, sorry readers.  With the lack of proper plumbing that Jakarta tends to have, flushing your toilet paper down is frowned upon.  So, the age old question:  do you just toss your tp in the bin next to the toilet or do you inject bacterial-infested water in your caboose?  Being red-blooded North Americans, we chose the former.  We're assimilating, but we have our limits. A man can only handle so much.

Back in the States, this aforementioned stank would flow right into my next topic:  the students.  However, it's the exact opposite here.  The kids are unlike anything I've ever seen.  Are they like every other teen?  In many ways, yes.  The discipline they show is incredible though.  First shock was when I walked into my first class and all the kids stood up and said in unison 'Good morning, Sir'.  I was planning on coming in there and being a hard ass.  The whole 'This is my ship:  get on or jump off' speech, but I'm sure the look on my face had to be comical.  Never had I been shown so much respect for being a teacher.  From students, administration or parents.  I'm used to taking the first five minutes of class to quell the mutiny and start managing.  Actual teaching is completely out of the question.  The students here though:  attentive, respectful and they WANT to learn.  AND  that isn't even the best part!  Are you kidding me?  These kids after thank me for teaching when I leave the room.  Is it sincere?  Maybe not. Probably not.  But it makes me feel special on the inside.  I'm only twelve hours away, but it's like I've landed on a different planet. 

Very tentative, but there's a possibility that the next post could be talking about our pending visit to Bandung.  Volcanoes?  Yes, please.  Still waiting on the trip to Singapore.  It was a bit unfortunate that I wasn't able to go with my other roommates, but they didn't even get any goodies from the duty free store! Haha....rookies.  I won't make such mistakes.  Until next time everyone, enjoy 'Merica and have a diesel for me.

Fat Guy In A Little Coat

I realized real quick that I'm going to have to drop another 20-30 lbs and shrink 5 inches to fit in anything in Indonesia.  I tossed on a XXL and still looked like someone from Jersey Shore.  I wanted to immediately go to my room and shower, as anyone would want when they think about (or watch) that show.  Instead, I was met with a couple giggles and jokes as we went through our teachers' retreat in Puncak.  After the first week of induction, all the teachers are required to attend the retreat in Puncak, an area high in the mountains that's home to numerous hotels and resorts for leisure and/or conferences.  Just like everything else in Indonesia, it was normal to see hours of poverty followed by a classy, westernized building.  The resort we went to was a nice place.  Standard hotel rooms coupled with independent houses that were used for meetings, lodging or full-time family housing.  Had tradition Indonesian food, bought some local crafts and enjoyed 9 hours of traffic on what should have been a two hour trip back.  Welcome to Indonesia.

It's incredible that I've only been here for a month.  I feel like, along with many of the other new teachers, that doing so much in an entirely new country in such a short amount of time makes it feel like we've been here for months already.  I've started to pick up certain phrases of the language that allow to me venture outside the 480 malls they have around Jakarta (exaggerated number, though they do have malls everywhere).  Learning the numbers was easy enough and helps tremendously when you're trying to haggle with the cab driver during rush hour on Saturday night:  the first night we were really able to go out as a group.

Over a dozen of the teachers went out to a late dinner and had an enjoyable time, but half the group didn't want the fun to stop I guess.  Being the guy I am, I chose to continue enjoying myself and  go to a local watering hole.  Per a local's suggestion, we ventured to an establishment that was 30 some minutes away.  Just to be clear, we did not know what this place was nor have we been there since.  It looked credible enough in our research (thank you, smartphones) though, so we went. The only way I can describe the first floor is a crappy prom photo shoot setup.  Why pictures would be taken in this place?  I don't know, so we continued up.  The next floor we all stopped to break the seal with me and the other guy (naturally) being finished before the women.  So we stepped through this curtain to see a pitch black room with rave lights and a group of (what looked like) younger folks dancing.  I made sure everyone was clothed and we weren't in a shady place before continuing and making a mental note to come back if the other floors were boring.  By the 3rd and top floor, we finally saw people our age walking through a curtain to what looked like a dance floor.  After seeing a fairly high cover charge, our group decided to go back downstairs.  We found the formerly pitch black room to be lit up and a cover band was playing.  I figured it wouldn't be too bad.

Now, I'm not one to judge.  When I looked to my right and saw two couches full of women against the far wall, I thought to myself 'hey, maybe Jakartan bars are like a middle school dance in America:  all the girls on one side and all the guys on the other'.  This is what I wanted to believe.  Of course, the only table available was right next to these women.  The five of us took a seat, ordered a pitcher and watched the band play American songs that were popular two years ago.  However, we just couldn't shake certain characteristics of these women that made us think we were in the wrong place.  Very professional in the way they approach men, if you catch my drift.  For those of you that are too thick to pick up on the not-so-subtle hints:  prostitutes.  The way we knew for sure:  a very butch local woman comes dressed in a suit and starts chatting up the girls.  Trying not to be disgusted, I turned my head and tried not the judge against the woman's personal preference.  Not completely unsurprisingly, she walks to the back of the bar to get a bird's eye view of the place.  When we sees potential prey, she signals with a laser pointer and points to three of the girls.  Those three get up, walk over with Butch and she then shows off her product.  By the time we pull the wipers off and know for sure that we need to get out of here before we're seen on an episode of Cops:  Indonesia, we'd just gotten our pitcher of beer.  I know we all have our war stories from back in the day, but I've never seen a pitcher downed that fast in my entire life.  Before Butch could blink, the bule and their assumingly deep pockets (laughable) were out of there and hailing a cab to go back home and bath in GermX.  The end of a night that will be talked about in infamy amongst us five, but the bar name never uttered allowed in case anyone heard.  Welcome to Indonesia.

Next post will talk about the quality of the school.  Spoiler alert:  It's awesome.  It's worlds different than anything I've seen in America, but it's not like the bar was set pretty high.  'A student didn't try to shank me today, so it was pretty good,' I responded when people asked how my first day was.  They laughed until they realized I wasn't joking.  Until next time (which could be this weekend), enjoy 'Merica and have a diesel for me

Josh

Diving In

First off, everyone should be thanking my mother for essentially making me do this.  If it wasn't for her nagging, I'd be sitting here watching one of the two American channels we get in our apartment.  Secondly, I think I have to apologize in advance for anyone who may find my brand of humor a bit....over the top.  I'm catering to a wide range of ages, so bear with me old folks (By old folks, I mean my dad.  Happy birthday, Papi). 

I suppose I have to start with the flight to Hong Kong.  I met with two other teachers in Chicago before the flight.  Had a beer and a chat.  Both seemed cool (they're at different campuses).   After nearly a 16 hour flight, we touched down in Hong Kong and ended up exploring Hong Kong a bit before settling down for the night.  When we finally touched down in Jakarta, the only thing going through my mind:  Is this really an airport?  For a city of twelve million, I figured they'd have a airport to handle the traffic.  Not the case.  It's an openly ventilated building with no A/C, so I was sweating bullets while waiting an hour for our bags.  By the time we stepped outside, we had met with two school representatives and a board director.  They were getting our driver and this is when I was first introduced to Jakarta's traffic.

Scooters.  That's the one thing I was woefully unprepared for.  I was told Jakarta's traffic was bad.  I was prepared for that, but the number of scooters is unbelievable.  Weaving in and out of traffic, cutting across intersections through oncoming traffic and fitting up to four people on one scooter.  Madness, I say.  Some people would get wedge their toddlers in between the front and back person to keep them safe.  Traffic lights, road marks and rules of the ride that everyone abides by in America (or else they have crazy road rage, Mom) are laughable here.  Cutting people off and turning into oncoming traffic is normal here and, if you don't do those things, you're a bad driver.  When there finally is room to roam, it's like being an a crappy Fast and Furious sequel.  Not with cool cars, but vans and rusted piles of shit.

The first impression of the school was good.  I'm at the biggest campus out of the five that the school has.  They have me teaching business, life skills, homeroom teacher, coaching the soccer team, assistant house master and part of the disciplinary committee.  A lot to keep me busy and keep my mind off the perks of America:  family, friends, food and, of course, diesel (old folk translation: diesel = budweiser). 

It's unfortunate that this country comes with so much poverty, because it really could be a beautiful country.  When my roommate brought this up, I think I wrapped it up in one simple phrase:  It's like a pretty girl with gonorrhea.  Pods of trash in the river, the city smells like shit and shacks set up everywhere.  But, when it's all said and done, I'm having a good time and I'm glad I came.  A lot to adjust to, but it's not too difficult with good roommates and a quality teaching staff.  I'm picking up some parts of the language and should be able to hold my own by the end of my tenure here.  Hopefully my other posts won't be as long, but I've been too busy to create anything before this.  I'll save our school retreat and the first week of school for later.  Hope everything's well where you're at.  Enjoy drinking water from the faucet and tossing your toilet paper in the toilet.  'Til next time everyone.

Josh