Well I've been here for a month now and I'm back from mudik (the trip you take to visit family around idul fitri). I visited the villages of Cianjur, and Tegal. While the drive was incredibly long, complete with infamous Javanese traffic, I did get to see iconic Indonesian rice paddies, mountains and Tropical plants. The iconic scenery didn't stop when I arrived in Cianjur: Chickens ran loose, ceilings were made out of woven bamboo, sheep stood in wooden sheds with stilts. Of course the Indonesian country side has a few not-so-nice icons: cloudy, grey bath water, and squat toilets. Later that night, I discovered another part of Indonesian Islamic culture, unfortunately, it was one that kept me up until I found my earplugs: the night before Idul Fitri, nearby mosques chant “allahu akbar” for hours until midnight. I wish I could give you an explanation as to why they do this, or why they don't just recite a big chunk of the Koran instead of saying the same thing over and over again, but I'm just as lost as you. The next day my family trekked around the village to shake hands, chat, and drink tea with everyone living there. We had quite a bit of free time after that, so we watched a show called “the adventures of suparman” (yes, spelled that way) and had my first conversation entirely in Bahasa Indonesia with a great aunt and tried a delicious Tamarind drink called “Asam Jawa”
hhmmm. So I guess I should talk more about life in Bandung. Bandung is starting to feel like home: I've made some good friends who have taken me out to watch movies, eat pizza and steak, they are really cool guys. I'm not sure when I start up school again, but when I do, I think I will join the badminton club (that is if I'm not too bad).
I bet you all want to hear about some crazy aspects of Indonesia, like one crazy scene that happened after eating my steak: My friends drove me to see the American family of an Indonesian returnee. Due to the heavy rains and excessive litter, the drains clogged up and the street flooded. Bandung turned into Venice, and a motorcyclist even started to fall over and had to be lifted out of the water by the people around him.
Then there are the naked people: Not too long ago I saw a naked man walking down the street very strange. Stranger still, no one around really seemed to react. This made me kind of mad, because a naked Indonesian doesn't even get a stare, but a fully-clothed bule can't walk down the street without someone staring, yelling bule (albino), or taking pictures.
Should I tell you about some more cultural differences? Or more aptly, cultural confusion. I can't seem to figure out who pays for what here. I've only paid for myself once when out with my friends so far: is that normal, or am I the jerk that doesn't pay? I think it's been ok that I haven't been paying so far, since it seems a lot of the time one person pays for all, but I'm not sure when I should be that person. Arg, isn't it easier just to go dutch?! Haha.
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