Day 25: PRESIDENT

Today President Obama is in Jakarta. And the big question is... WILL HE EAT THE BAKSO?

I heard from a friend in the US that everyone is wondering if he will eat the flour-and mystery meat testicle-sized balls that he claimed as his favorite food (Usually these balls are sold from street vendors who cart them around in the heat all day. Several years ago there was a scandal when it was discovered that many vendors were using formaldehyde to keep them looking 'fresh').

I'm betting that 'bakso' was the only Indonesian food that the president could remember, and then he immediately regretted not picking another food.  At this moment, he is on TV live testifying that the bakso and nasi goreng was semuanya enak (everything was delicious).

On a slightly more serious note, Obama's full schedule of speeches tomorrow has been shortened. According to Foreign Policy's morning brief, they want to get the president in the air as soon as possible since Merapi is so 'unpredictable'. Translation: the American vulcanologists know something and they are hiding the information. It gives me the shivers.

Honestly, Obama needs to get out of here not because Merapi is going to blow ash up his propellers but because he is practically fainting with exhaustion at Indonesian president SBY's banquet table. I'm afraid that the one glass of champagne is going to do him in. I'm glad that our president is here, but sad that he looks so gaunt and so gray. Get on your private plane, Mr. President, and get some rest.

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Day 24: EVACUATION

Ok, once again, I know that 'evacuation' is not a basic or useful English word. I also know that I haven't written for days. I felt a little strange keeping up this chipper and usually sardonic blog in this time of distress. Let me catch you up to date:

On Friday morning at around 1am, Merapi exploded again; in fact it has been exploding non-stop since it started almost 2 weeks ago, but the Friday explosion was teh most violent that Jogja area has seen in a century. Ash covered the city, more dramatically than the previous weekend, blanketing our bodies, bikes, books and unfortunately, lungs. And what I'd been expecting and waiting for finally happened: the Javanese people panicked.

It's hard to explain why Javanese people panicking is so scary. One reason is because Jogja culture is SO relaxed that there is rarely a reason for people to get worked up about anything. The status quo is to remain chill in the face of danger. Secondly, in Java people tend to shy away from 'seriousness'; in public, it's better to laugh off sad stories and remain stoic than put everyone in a bad mod. Emotions are private things, not to be aired like dirty laundry. In fact, unless among very close friends (and sometimes even then), a strong display of any emotion is bizarre. Basically it's like the 1950s.

But by far the most terrifying thing about the locals' state of unease is the history of Merapi itself: Never in the lives of any living residents of Jogja has the city been coated in ash. No one, even the top Indonesian and American vulcanologists, who are spending millions of dollars and have been studying this volcano for decades has any idea what is going to happen. "It's not done," is the official word. I know there's more information, but when are they going to tell us?

So I've been evacuated from Jogja. When I left, my kos was practically empty, with girls from as far away as Southern Sumatera jumping on 2-day buses to get out of town. The airports are closed, so any trips were made by land, ours by train. A lot of my friends, however, stayed. Jogja is their home, and so far there hasn't been any actual danger in the city. There's no way I could have stayed in my room, with the amount of ash there, but I hate being away from Jogja at this time.

Everything is uncertain, nothing is safe, and I feel perpetually on the edge of an emotional precipice. And I've been evacuated to a beautiful home of a friend in the nicest neighborhood in Jakarta, with hot showers and AC. Thousands of people are in all sorts of makeshift camps in the city (my university is serving as a refugee camp right now), many not knowing what is to become of their home. I don't know what to do. All I can think about is how helpless we are in the face of nature. All we can do is run.

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Day 23: PICTURES

You guys gave me a free one, you know.

The rooftops are usually bright red tile. Merapi is due ahead in this photo.

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Day 22: MEET

*pictures of crappy ash to come. but first...

@Anne

I like to start out my cross-cultural understanding classes with a little trick I learned from Emma (who may have learned from Maya from Guy from Nat from Kate...). "When you meet someone," I say to the wide-eyed and duly suspicious group of newbies, "how do you shake his/her hand?" The greeting is a terrific example of a cultural convention (I hear in Japan you bow and some Indians namaste with folded hands and South Americans kiss on both cheeks and Italian men just make out with you immediately), and the Javanese handshake is especially hilarious in comparison with the American handshake.

"How do you shake their hand?" I ask, and then proceed to the first willing student in the front row to mimic a Javanese handshake. We hunch our shoulders in a deferential half-bow; right hand extends and with a simultaneous (and also deferential) head-bob, we touch hands in the epitome of a limp fish handshake. At the exact moment of contact, both people say their names very softly and simultaneously: "Lu-ad-na-i" so that it is totally impossible to learn the other's name. After a handshake, you retract the right hand to touch your heart, if you are Muslim, or the other person is Muslim. (Since there is no way to tell if someone is Muslim unless they are wearing Muslim clothing, I usually touch my heart and then the other person doesn't, indicating they are Catholic/Christian/Buddhist/Taoist/a foreigner/confused).

In the classroom, this is the cue for the students to laugh. A foreigner impersonating a Javanese person is the funniest thing that can possibly happen. Then, for the real punch line, I find a less willing student to engage in an arm shaking mega-grip American howdy-do. The class erupts in more laughter. I'm a comedic genius.

**
The word "met" in Indonesian is used both for the first time you meet someone and... every subsequent time. This leads to some intense miscommunications between the foreigner and Indonesians.

Indo: I met Stefanie on the street!
Foreigner: You've never met Stefanie before? I thought I introduced the two of you!
Indo: No, I met her today.
Foreigner: I'm confused by this interaction.

Subsequently, once said foreigner adjusts, it leads to some intense miscommunications with people at home:

Friend at home: Yes, I'm planning to finally meet Andrew Arceci!
Foreigner: That's great that you guys are going to hang out. You guys are really good friends.
Friend at home: No we're not. I've never met him before.
Foreigner: I'm confused by this interaction.

Additional note: when you 'meet' someone, be it for the first time, or one of many subsequent times, the 'meeting' will usually last much longer than you expect/desire. More on this later.

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