I miss my family

My family is circulating an update email where each one of us checks in and talks about what is going on in our lives. I have 6 brothers and sisters and a zillion nieces and nephews and a whole new crop of children in the generation beyond that. I’m including some of my family conversation so that other people who follow this blog can grasp what it means when I say, “I miss my family.”

If I could capture the essence of "missing my family" and put it in my water bottle it would be overflowing with my tears. These 27 months are so much harder than I imagined. I just never thought I would be homesick. That's something kids do. I mean I've lived on my own so much and my kids have left home and I've left many homes. It's hard to even say where my "home" is. Is it the home in the forest in New Mexico where I lived 13 years ago and have been renting out ever since? Is it the little apartment in Salt Lake City that I rented for 2 years to be close to my daughter and grandchildren? I have 2 Rubbermaid bins with all my worldly belongs stored at her house, but the idea of “home” is hard to define. But “missing home” is perhaps the hardest part of living here. Yesterday was my youngest son, Peter's birthday and this week is the "due date" for David, my oldest son and his wife Anna to have their first child. I will have a new grandson living in Boston very soon.

When my first grandchild, Talon, was born I was at Hurricane Katrina and volunteered to drive a big truck to Cody Wyoming. When I stopped in Boulder to spend the night with my daughter, Katrina, she was in labor when I left. I dropped off the truck in Wyoming, flew to New Mexico and drove up to Boulder so that I was there within 24 hours of when he was born. When my second grandchild, Kira, was born I was living 2 blocks away and took care of Talon when she and her husband, Matt went to the hospital and then Talon and I got to see little Kira when she was just a few hours old. The thought that I will not be able to hold this grandbaby until he is over a year old is just painful!

This morning I got up at 4am, like I usually do and went for a 2 hour walk. I love the relative cool in the morning. Of course I'm sweating by the time the sun comes up at 5:15 or so but I love the quiet and the stillness of the early mornings. I live on the most densely populated island in the world! (At least that's what they say - I would think Manhattan would be more densely populated but maybe not.) My ibu-mama is already up when I leave the house, cooking rice and boiling water in a wood burning fireplace outside. The first person I usually say good morning to is an elderly lady leaving the little mosque where she has gone to say her morning prayers. Today I picked up several bunches of sprouts that had fallen off the motorcycle delivery cart that the vegetable seller, Dewi, drives. She was appreciative of me returning them to her.

Then I walk for about 1/2 hour to a place where the houses end and the rice and corn fields begin. For about 20 minutes I can sing my heart out because it's still dark so the farmers have not yet come to the fields. Then I'm in another little village. I follow a winding road down to a big river, cross a bridge and go past a graveyard build into a steep hillside. All the graves are the same direction so that the people can be placed in them lying on their sides with their faces west - toward Mecca. Then I walk past a slightly rural area to another village where there are a lot of dogs - I counted five! (Yes, 5 dogs in a village is a LOT of dogs.) Muslims are generally not allowed to have dogs so there must be some Christians living there. Then I walk past the place where they make bricks by hand out of concrete and past the little ditch where I always see villagers squatting and pooping.

Things I have seen in streams and ditches: People washing their goats, people giving their cows a drink of water, people herding their ducks to get a drink, people washing their clothes, people cleaning out the canisters of pesticide that they spray on the fields, people brushing their teeth, people washing their children, little boys peeing as far as they can, and of course people squatting and pooping. Before I came, I had read that most rural homes in Indonesia do not have toilets, that people use the streams.

There is no school this week because it is the National Exam for seniors. I went back to my Pre Service Training Village – where I lived for the first 3 months and visited with the family and spent a few hours with the new Peace Corps volunteer who is now living in my house. There are 30 new ones who are learning the language and culture and in 3 months will graduate and join the existing 17 of us from the first group. I’m still the oldest.

It’s been really hot lately, as opposed to just regularly hot. Two other volunteers have said that they will come on Friday and we will go swimming at the new pool just 2 blocks from my home. I’m looking forward to that.

At my new house, where I’ve been living for the past 6 weeks we eat a lot more tofu and tempe and a lot less fish heads and tails. The wonderful thing is that they have figured out that I like fruit – I brought some apples home from a trip I took – and so we have fruit almost all the time: bananas; pineapples; papaya; apples; Asian pears; selak which looks like snake skin on egg size balls and it sort of tastes like pears; hairy fruit which looks weird but tastes good; & oranges!

I miss you guys! Love and hugs from ½ way around the world, Colleen

And a response from my sister, who is a nurse-

Col,
We miss you too. It will be wonderful to have you back home - when will you be coming home? I think it is in May of next year is that right? You can almost start the count down. Just think off all the stories and adventures you will be able to tell for the rest of your life about your being a Peace Corps volunteer in Indonesia! Are you more glad than not glad you did it? I hope so. I'm sure there are days you wish you never did it though. I just hope the more glad over all out weighs the not glad.
All those things happening in the streams and ditches is enough to make me seriously cringe. I am bringing toilet paper with me no matter what and even though I hate to use the stuff normally I think I will bring a gallon of hand sanitizer with me! Actually, now that I'm thinking of bringing Calvie wipes (not sure of the spelling) but the kind they use in hospitals that kill all kinds of big bad bugs. How is your health? How do you wash your hands? Do you wash them often? My god the sanitation conditions sound bacterially awful! Okay, I'm not freaking out - well, maybe a little - I still want to come but I will definitely listen to every bit of advice Matt our doctor gives on how to stay healthy while there!
Stay healthy - stay away from those ditches and streams!
Love,
Your sis Pinky

(My daughter, Katrina and her husband Matt, the doctor, will visit me in June of this year and Pinky is planning to come in March of next year.)

My response to my sister-

It's not as bad as it sounds, Pinky. I have been wiping my butt with my hand for the past 13 months and I'm still alive! I used to get diarrhea pretty often, but now I sometimes go several months without it. Water is so cheap - you just keep washing your hands with soap when you are finished, over and over until you can't smell poop any more. Actually sometimes I can still smell poop - I'm careful not to floss my teeth after that because when you floss you really do wind up putting your hands in your mouth.

People are very careful about only using their right hand to give you things - the left hand is the butt washing hand. But sometimes I forget - oh well, the students still love me even if I pass out papers with the wrong hand and the shop keepers still keep the money even if I reach in my purse with the wrong hand.

Of all the things I deal with in life - the hardest is missing my family, the 2nd hardest is not understanding what is happening (language and cultural differences). Heat, mosquitoes, transportation difficulties, incredibly loud prayers, the smell of burning trash, sanitation issues and strange food are really just minor annoyances.

Easter Sunday is day 405 in Indonesia - exactly half way, only 405 more to go. I really am glad I came. I have so many grandma stories to tell, but I better tell them fast. I can already tell that my memory is going...

Love you guys, Colleen
(My due date for going back to America – close of service - is June 2, 2012.)

Things I wish I knew on DAY 1

This blog is for the new Peace Corps volunteers who will be leaving American and heading to Indonesia in one week. (Actually right now they are called "Invitees" and once they sign paperwork in San Francisco they are called "Trainees" and once they "swear-in" after 3 months of learning the language and culture they are called "Volunteers.")

PC Indonesia. Survival Tips – Things I wish I knew on DAY 1

Disclaimer: The contents of this page do not represent the positions, views or intents of the U.S. Government or the U. S. Peace Corps or any other volunteers serving in Indonesia! This is just 1 full page to share with the newbies.

First day with PST family:

With so much going on the first day, I forgot names within seconds. Ask them to write their names Find out what people call each other and write that down too. Also their age so you can figure out later who is your father, mother, brother, sister, aunt, neighbor, etc. My name is = Nama saya. Pangil saya = Call me. What is your name?= Siapa nama anda? How old? Berapa umur?

Essential Javanese: Hello =Mongo Mr or Mrs.= Mbak (for people older than you) Yes = Ngeh No = Ora.

My host family wanted the windows shut at night for security and so I wouldn’t get sick (masuk angina = wind comes in) and because it was cold = dingin. I thought it was hot = panas.

If you can’t get the mosquito net up, you can cover yourself with a double layer of it and still fall asleep.

If the noise from the mosque / weddings /circumcisions is too loud to sleep, don’t worry, you will soon be deaf.

When setting up the water filter: Rinse First, then Assemble. Pour some regular tap water through it first to clean out the dust, then assemble the parts – they need to be put together firmly. Only put a little water in the top the first time so you can swish it around in the clean lower compartment and empty it. Tap the handle to stop drips.

Always eat with your right hand, pass food/papers/money etc. with your right hand (see bathroom tips below)

Very delicious/nice = Enak sekali. Extermely delicious = Lezat sekali. Tambah lagi = add again / take more. I’m full = Saya kenyan. Thank you, enough -= Terimah kasih, cucup

Assalamu alaikum = standard Arabic greeting when coming into a house Response= Waalaikum salam. When leaving the house, say to the father/mother Pamit saya? = May I?

I am not allowed to ride a motor cycle= Saya tidak boleh naik sepeda motor. I am forbidden to ride a motorcycle = Saya dilarang untuk naik sepeda motor. Kenapa = why. Many volunteers dead= Banyak relawan mati (dead for animals, not people, but easier to remember.)

I must wear a helmet (for bicycle) = Saya harus pakai helm.

Things every 3 yr old knows: Cover your mouth if you yawn. Don’t cross your legs so that people see the soles of your feet. Take your shoes off every time you enter a house.

In the bathroom

Where is the bathroom = Di mana kamar kecil? Water is plentiful and very cheap in Indonesia. When you go in turn on the faucet to mask the noise. The squat toilet WILL flush if you pour enough scoops of water in it. Until you get the hang of it pooping is easiest if you are naked from the waist down. Stabilize yourself by putting one foot off the foot rests and one a little farther away so you can put your foot down flat rather than balancing on the balls of your feet. To wipe without toilet paper: while squatting, put your left hand behind you and extend it between your legs, pour water from the scoop with your right hand. Scoop, pour and wipe, scoop, pour and wipe. Do not stand up until your left hand is clean. Your natural tendency is to grab hold of something with it as you stand up. In all my families I kept my own soap on one side of the soap dish. To rinse both hands at the same time tip the dipper up while you are holding your hands together so the water runs from the dipper to your right hand and into your left hand below it. When I see people squatting in my host village in the stream, I avert my eyes and keep walking. Works for me. You will be expected to mandi = bathe by pouring water over you, washing and then rinsing, twice a day. My family always panics when I try to bathe after the sun has set.

I use the first splash of cold mandi water to repeat the mantra that was given to our group at staging: “Embrace the ambiguity.”

Used tampons should be put inside a plastic bag and put in the trash. The sewer water runs into the rivers and irrigates fields. I have a lot of plastic bags to give your group because I remember the panic when we asked the PC doctor where do we get plastic bags and she said “They are everywhere.” They are, but you need a stash to start.

Community / Walking around

Mau ke mana? = Where are you going. (Common greeting, much like we would say “Hello”) Jalan, Jalan = walking or Jalan saja = Just walking. Mampir = come in (to my house) (It’s polite for them to offer.) I always smiled and said Terima kasih, nanti = Thank you, later.

Dari mana? = where are you from. Saya dari Amerika = I am from America But now I live in ____.= Tapi, sekarang saya tingal di _____. People may be asking you where are you coming from= Dari mana? Saya dari sekola = I am coming from school.

It’s good to memorize and write down your full address: street name, number, desun, desa, RW, RT, village, kabupaten, everything people tell you.

Tomorrow = besok = sometime in the future, not necessarily “tomorrow”

For weddings/circumcisions the protocol in my village was to put 20.000 Rp. ($2) in an envelope and “palm it” to the appropriate person.

Cell phone

2010-2012 PCV’s all went with Simpati as a provider. It’s cheaper to contact each other if you are all on the same network. To call home 010171 (area code and number) is LOTS cheaper. I programmed all my USA numbers in that way. For texting you have to do 1 (area code + number) So people I text and call have two different listings.

If you can’t send a text = sms = small message system or make a call, you are probably out of pulsa=cell phone minutes. You can buy pulsa from shops or sometimes neighbors who are set up as dealers. *888# will show you how much pulsa you have left and when it expires. If it gets too low you can’t send or receive messages. The more pulsa you buy, the cheaper it is per minute.

Batu, the big town near PST villages has stores where you can buy cell phones. We got better deals buy going together and buying more than one phone at once.

I'll print some copies of this to give to the next group who haven't yet figured out the PC blog system. See you guys in Surabaya!

Oma Colleen Young (I'll include my phone number in the printed copy.)

Walk to my school

Come with me on a walk to my school. That's it in the distance beyond the rice fields and behind the mosque.





This public service announcement is at the entrance to my town. Please don't poop in black puddles. Throw your trash in trash containers and wash your hands often.







This is the loud speaker tower outside the mosque. You can hear the prayers about half a mile away.









Two of my students who are also walking to school.









My friends, the snack sellers at the front of the school. Today she told me that she is a salesperson and also said "I love you." in English.










And here I am in my teacher's uniform at the entrance to my school.

Fried Chicken Intestines

Here is my host father with a chicken leg and foot and my host mother with the intestine stick.

I really like living with my new family. I get to experience a lot of different things. They are teaching me the value of different foods. I want to make sure that they don’t spend too much money preparing my food. We had a discussion about “village chickens’ versus “cage chickens.” Chickens who are mass produced at a chicken yard and stacked in cages their whole lives cost 20.000 Rp a kilo, ($1 per pound) but “village chickens” who run free cost 35.000Rp. per kilo. ($2 per pound) A 1 foot long by 6 inches high delicious papaya costs 50 cents. A pineapple costs 50 cents.

There are about 20 chickens that live in our back yard. Yesterday my host parents killed 3 of them. When I arrived the chickens had their throats slit and almost all the feathers off. My host mother and father were in front of the outside faucet, cleaning the last of the pin feathers. I pulled up another little 5 inch high stool and watched. They cut off the legs and wings and spilt the chickens open and very carefully pulled out the innards. Then they cut off the chicken feet and hacked off their toe nails with a big knife and put that piece in the pot, then they took the chicken head and cut off the beak and put that piece in the cooking pot. They carefully pulled out the intestines, put a long thin stick inside of them and then slit them open. Then they washed them over and over again, changing the water and scrubbing the intestines together to get the poop from the digestive tract out off of them.

All the intestines and internal organs were cut into pieces and fried. My host mom kept telling me they were delicious.

The other chicken pieces including the head and feet were washed thoroughly and then fresh lime juice was squeezed over them and they were put in a pot to boil or maybe soak overnight. I’m not sure. This morning my mother took out some chicken pieces and deep fried them and we had them for breakfast with rice and boiled leaves, green beans and sprouts with a spicy peanut sauce.

It looked to me that everything in that chicken was cooked except for the toenails and beaks. My host mother told me – they aren’t meat! The fried livers and hearts taste like fried livers and hearts. But the fried intestines really are delicious!

Student Funeral

This morning I slept in late – till 6am. I wasn’t feeling well. I’ve had a sore throat for a week and my feet hurt and I have to pack today because I will be moving to a new house tomorrow or the next day. So I didn’t go to my regular 6am church service. I just got up and took a mandi bath and ate the food my ibu had ready for me under the fly cover and washed my clothes and hung them out to dry.

Then I looked at my cell phone and there was a text message from one of my co-teachers: ‘Oma, one of our student die, if you want to go her house, please come to school. At 6.30.” It was already 7:15. I immediately sent a text: “I am coming now.” One of the great things about “rubber time’ is that nothing happens when it’s supposed to happen. I put on my jilbab and the painful school (dress) shoes and walked / ran the 20 minutes to school. I was 5 minutes from school when a car pulled over. It was my vice principal and I hopped into his car. Inside was another teacher and a 4 foot by 3 foot funeral wreath made to look like flowers but made out of paper and sticks. It had a banner with the name of my Islamic High School.

I found out that the student was one of my 11th graders in the smartest science class. She had had been in a motorcycle accident the afternoon before. We drove about 20 minutes to a small village where the vice principal was looking for a field past the police station. We parked in the field and I recognized about 40 of our 56 teachers and several hundred students.

We followed the funeral wreath into an open courtyard where there was a large tent set up. All the women went one direction and I followed them. We each shook hands and brought them to our heart. Many of the students and teachers had tears in their eyes, but it is not okay to cry in this culture and each one of them was holding the tears in. We filed past the female family members and shook each of their hands and brought them to our hearts. The family also was not crying. The teachers gave the family large baskets with bags of rice inside.

It was raining lightly and all of the women went and sat in a covered courtyard with an indoor /outdoor carpet over the concrete, so we took off our shoes before we stepped inside. I looked around and tried to determine what this place was. It looked like it might be a small mosque and we were in the covered courtyard adjacent to the mosque. My school has 900 students and a quick count showed that maybe 500 of them were there. The men and boys sat in front, all the women and girls sat behind. There were only 2 children there under high school age. The chanting began as soon as we sat cross legged or legs to the side. I went to a wall and sat with my back against it. I have learned that I can not sit for nearly as long as most Indonesians without some kind of support.

During the hour long Arabic chanting service, women passed out plastic water cups with a sealed tops and what looked like a half a piece of bread sealed in a plastic bag. Some of the triangles were green which usually means they taste more like cake than bread. These were handed from woman to woman. About ½ hour into the chanting, the men filed out and the body was brought and put on a table in front of the women. It was wrapped in cloth and rolled into a rug. It was placed on an aluminum frame that was approximately the size of a coffin but open on all sides. Two women who looked like a mother and a grandmother came to the front and carefully arranged the coverings while they held back their tears. I saw several teachers with a covered bowl. Inside were many 50.000 Rp. bills. ($5.00 – a little more than a daily standard wage for most Indonesians and my subsistence allowance as well.) They gave this to the mother and grandmother.

A green cloth was draped over the whole structure and 6 men came and grabbed the handles on the aluminum frame and took the body out under the tent. A man with a microphone spoke for about 10 minutes, praying in Arabic and introducing our school principal. The principal prayed in Arabic for several minutes and then gave a speech about the student. In the speech he said she was in grade 11 Science Class 2 and you could hear about 40 student voices say “three.” He said, “Oh yes, Class 3.” During his 20 minute speech the 6 men holding the coffin structure on their shoulders would sometimes ask for a replacement and step back while another man took their place. The principal ended his speech with “May you have healthy travels.” This was the cue that people were waiting for and the men with the body stepped forward. In front of them was a man carrying a decorative golden umbrella with coins dangling from the spokes.

All 800 or so people followed the body up the street. The teachers I was with waited for the principal and vice principal to bring their cars. We piled in. Some teachers drove their motorcycles. The graveyard was less than ½ mile away. We were driven most of the way and then walked on the path to a beautiful hill looking out over rice fields. There were the traditional graveyard trees with lots of spreading branches and very few leaves. I don’t know their name, but they have been planted in every graveyard I’ve seen here in Indonesia. They make beautiful white flowers. The cemetery was steep and because it had been raining it was very muddy. I stood near the back as the wrapped body was lowered into the hole and shovelfuls of dirt were put inside. People stood until the grave was filled in then some of them put a little handful of dirt/mud on top. A man spoke for a few minutes and then everyone turned around and headed back down the street.

I saw a man with a live chicken in a plastic bag. When I asked my teachers what he was doing they said that it was not Islam culture, but Javanese culture. I asked if the chicken was going to be killed. One person said, no, it would be released. Another person said, yes, that it’s blood would be put on the grave. The three people I asked all made a point to tell me that it was not a part of the Islamic service.

On the way down the hill one of the teachers told me that the student had been killed very close to my house when she made a turn and another motorcycle hit her. She had not been wearing a helmet and was taken to a hospital but died a few hours later from head trauma.

Most of the teachers waited for the car, but another female teacher and I walked back to the original location. The students talked with us as we walked, laughing and joking about the mud and explaining to me that the correct word is not “death party” but something more like “grave ceremony” and that there would be another prayer service in 7 days and also 100 days.

I got another ride with the vice principal and on the way home he told me that he would pick me up tomorrow after school and drive me and all my belongings to my new home with my new family. He told me that the new family would be good and I should not be worried. He dropped me off on the main road and I walked the 10 minutes back to my house.

Yesterday the vice principal came to my home and together we did an official asking for forgiveness if we had offended the family in any way and explaining that it is not their fault that I am moving to another house.

I’m exhausted. My son’s dog died two days ago. I didn’t tell any Indonesians. In a culture where dogs feared and avoided, I couldn’t think of a way to explain the concept ‘beloved pet,.who brought so much joy to our lives.”

Is it more of a loss if the person is brilliant and talented and beautiful? What if they are a trouble maker, disruptive and challenging?

I said I would serve in Peace Corps for 27 months under conditions of hardship if necessary. I don’t think feeling sick, worried and sad qualifies as hardship. I think I’ll scrap the lessons I had planned for this week and instead talk about motorcycle safety and losing someone you love. I know I will feel healthy and happy and optimistic at some point; but I don’t feel like that today.

You’re a cheap smile, Oma.

I am teaching “compliments” this week. I have saved 10 Pringles like canisters – they are called Mr. Potato over here. I cut out squares of stiff cardboard and put reward stickers on each one: Awesome, Marvelous, Great Job, Fantastic, Wow, You are Great, etc. The students must first copy the list of compliments from their English books / paper magazines into their writing books. Then I meet with them in groups of 4 and have them speak the compliments. I give them feedback – That’s wonderful! You are so smart. I’m proud of you! Then they get the Mr. Potato and more colorful compliments that other students have made. Then they have to copy each of these into their writing books. When they are finished I check their work and when it is correct, I put a sticker from America into their writing books – Way to go! You are a star!..... Then they select from beautiful colored paper and must write their own compliments that they make up on their own - on the paper, in their books and on the board. When they are finished I correct the items on the board and collect up what they wrote so I can check for accuracy.

It’s exhausting. But at the end of each class the students are engaged and able to give each other compliments. So it’s worth it! My favorite compliment is; “You’re a cheap smile, Oma.” The teachers have assured me that this is a GOOD genuine compliment. Also: You’re Comfortable. And I like your force. I’ve been thinking about what kind of a difference I make over here in Indonesia. Maybe my legacy will just be that I was a cheap smile. Maybe it will be enough.

Valentine's Day

Thank you, Bart, for the photo. It’s from an Islamic magazine.

Last week I had an idea that I would give each of the 54 teachers in my school a little snack for Valentine’s Day. I began making little hearts with the saying “Happy Valentine’s Day” to attach to each one. Several teachers saw me doing this and there was an agitated discussion in Javanese. I can speak beginner Indonesian, but I only know basic greetings in the local language. When people want to include me in the conversation, they speak in Indonesian. When they are just chatting with each other or they want to exclude me, they speak Javanese.

Two days later, my co-teacher timidly said to me, “Actually, Oma, there is something I must tell you.” This was very unusual and I gave her my full attention. She said, “I am so sorry, Oma, but Muslims are forbidden to share Valentine’s Day.” I asked her if it would be wrong for me to give a snack with a little heart attached and she said, “Yes, actually, we are forbidden to accept it.”

I immediately sent out a text message to my fellow volunteers with a heads up that at my Islamic High School, Muslims aren’t allowed to accept a small snack with a heart attached for Valentine’s Day.

On Sunday, at Church, I saw the words written in English “Happy Valentine’s Day” so I figured I could leave my snacks at the church / pre-school.

I woke up early on Monday, February 14th and called my daughter in the States. It was perfect timing, Sunday afternoon at her home and she was just putting her children down for a nap. My heart filled to the brim as my grandchildren said, “I love you.” And gave me kisses into the phone. My daughter said that Peace Corps should warn us in advance about possible social blunders like Valentine’s Day. I explained that it’s just part of the process of being in the first group of volunteers in a new country.

I dropped off my Valentine’s Day snacks at the little pre-school / church on the corner and went to school. At school there was a flag ceremony and assembly and I listened to a half hour speech about why Valentine’s Day is not a part of Islam. I was told that at some schools there was a raid to confiscate any Valentine’s Day cards or hearts or candy that students might want to give to each other. At another volunteer’s site, they were having a co-ed sleep over at the school because the next day, Feb. 15th, is the Prophet Mohammad’s birthday!

I have been hunting for a new place to live. My current family told me that they are spending more than what I give them on food and they want more money. This may be true, I have no idea what food costs and they make me wonderful food. I offered to eat less meat and expensive fruits and vegetables but that was not the solution they wanted. Peace Corps said that I should not give them more money. The vice principal of my school went to visit my family and he decided that the school would not give them more money. He said the problem was cultural, that they just want to give me the best of everything. I eat alone and my food is set out under a plastic fly cover. Sometimes I can not eat everything and if I don’t eat it for breakfast, it’s there for me to eat for lunch or dinner or breakfast the next day. So I started eating just half my meal and saving the rest for the next meal. My vice principal told me that I should eat all my food.

There was another discussion with Peace Corps concerning the money that the local police station is taking every three months to “register” me. The Peace Corps person in charge of safety and security visted my local police and they all agreed that I no longer need to be “registered” but did not admit to taking any “administration fees” I asked Sukmawan, my hero, the Safety and Security Officer for Peace Corps to tell my host father that he doesn’t need to go to the police station any more.

My host father had a stoke several years ago and I don’t know what behavior is normal Javanese behavior, what behavior is just his personality and what behavior would be attributed to possible brain damage from the stroke.

After the discussion, Sukmawan told me that I absolutely need to find a new place to live. He then called my vice principal to tell him also.

My vice principal told me to look around and find a new place to live and that I should wait until I found the new place to tell my current family. So I have been asking people that I meet on the street if they know of a boarding house that has an available room and I made an announcement to the 70 students in my English Club that I was looking for a new home.

Anyway, on Monday, Valentine’s Day, my vice principal asked me to accompany him to look at a nearby house. Another teacher went with us because it is a few blocks from her home. It seems fine. This family was also concerned because they don’t always cook meals and they eat the food from previous meals and they don’t have a refrigerator. I explained that I am not a raja (a queen) and that if there was no food I would eat “outside” at the school canteen or the little shops set up along the street, that sell many different foods.

We agreed and hooray! On the 1st of the month, my vice principal will help me bring my things in his car to my new house.

On Valentine’s Day after school I went to my local school supply place and got some more colored paper for a lesson on giving compliments and they charged me half of what they did last time! Most places do not have prices on the things for sale and bargaining is one of my least favorite things about Indonesia but I love it when I feel like I get a good deal!

That evening I told my host family that I would move to a new house on the 1st of the month. They said they wanted to go to Kalimantan, the different island where one of their daughters and her family is living.

I will probably never know the reasoning behind all this. Did my family want me to move out so they could go to Kalimantan? Did they ask for more money because it is a part of the Indonesian bargaining system? Was I actually eating too much expensive food? Do Muslims at my school think that Valentine’s Day = Free Sex? Do they not like Valentine’s Day because it is Catholic? Is it wrong to say I love you?

I may be culturally inappropriate but I’ll say it anyway. Thank you to my family and friends and people who read my blog. I appreciate your love, support, interest and concern. I love you.

Oma Colleen