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