Time to play a bit of catch up. As I've said before I haven't had a regular internet connection here in Bogor which has made blogging difficult. I don't know. I'm way more comfortable blogging when I have as much free time as I need in the comfort of my own home. I have time to relax, reflect, choose the appropriate words. I get anxious in a coffee shop, and besides I'm at a place where I need to hammer through marathon sessions just to get up to date. This requires the sort of concentration that can only be found at home.
Well, that's just the thing. I finally have a place to call home now. It's big and relatively inexpensive, all things considered. I've still got to furnish the place but at least I have a comfortable mattress and, voila! a reliable connection. I'll get into more detail about home and neighborhood in another post. Meanwhile I just wanna crash through the events of last month.
So, my last post discussed a little tour of the gardens that are so famous here. I believe that was in February, perhaps just a few weeks after touching down in Bogor. I've sort of lost track as time here has a way of blending together. I just recently past my two month mark, but I hardly noticed. I've been working these shifts from 3-9 with hardly any break in between. I usually get to work around noon and plan out my lessons for the day. Around two I eat lunch and hope it will tied me over until we get the led out. There doesn't seem to be much to do on week days around here, and besides I've been trying to save my money so after grabbing some grub from the warungs (street food vendors) I call it a night. The cycle repeats itself five days a week, only breaking for interest on weekends. At work courses last for two months but students are promised a Boulé teacher for half the time, which means I'm with a group of students for just one month. I don't think it's enough time to get to know them and establish the rapport that I found so valuable from my experience in Mongolia. Around here it seems that courses begin and end in lock-step with each other so for a half week at the top of any month I'm doing introductions/get to know you games and the last half week I'm giving exams. Essentially I end up teaching three out of four weeks, which makes it all so much easier but I'm concerned that students are getting ripped off. Not really my jurisdiction so I'll just try to enjoy it.
Right, then. The weekends. I touched on the topic of Singapore in a previous post. The last weekend of February found me bound for that fabled city to acquire a work visa. I foolishly stayed up all night before my 6am flight outta Jakarta, which ultimately proved detrimental to my weekend. Completely frazzled there I had no desire to explore the city. Besides the place is way too polished and pristine to be of much interest. It looks like some kinda retro-future epiphany come to life, complete with a totally obedient public (fools won't cross a street until the light turns in their favor, regardless of the traffic. A nation of followers, so they are.) I ran into some British cat in the McDonalds where the shady dude was handling Indonesian work visas (such a bizarro scene.) This guy has been teaching at one of the branches in Jakarta for the last four years and has been to Singapore several times to renew his working status. I joined him for a pint at an Irish pub (every city's got one) and ended up missing my flight back. I had to catch the next one out which put me back about a hundred bucks, fuckin' lame! My driver was in poor condition by the time I arrived. Having gotten up at 4am that morning and now headed back to Bogor at 1030pm, he was in no shape to drive. Poor guy. We had to pull over so he could rest as he was literally sleeping at the wheel. Feeling guilty about the situation I gave the fella 100 grand (Rupiahs, silly, not dollars! What're you, daft?) upon our return to Bogor. The rest of that weekend was spent trying to recover from sleep deficit.
For the first weekend in March my colleague Marten invited some of us out for a white water rafting trip with his church group. We had to get up at the butt crack of dawn to get to the bus station. Most of us Boulés were dog tired and unprepared for the unusually chipper Indos that accompanied us. The bus was un-airconditioned, crowded and choked with the noise of these sub-adults yelling, laughing, and singing at the tops of their lungs. I felt like I was in Elementary school again, can't these crazies afford us some peace? It was impossible to sleep so we just grit our teeth through it. So many times I just wanted to yell at them to shut up but realizing I was their guest I swallowed my pride. After a couple of hours crawling through traffic jammed streets we turned off onto a country road that proved in remarkably good condition. We rolled along a tight ridge that afforded brilliant views of the banana plantations below. Though we were most certainly in the country now we never got too far away from civilization. That's something that struck me. This island is so crowded that in reality the truly wild areas are few and far between.
Eventually we started to descend. The bus' ancient engine roared in protest and we dipped into the river valley below, struggling against grades that would most certainly be illegal where I'm from. After four hours of hellish travel we arrived at Caldera Rafting. All things considered it was a classy outfit. The staff were charming and the grounds decked out with these vast grass thatched bamboo structures that served as a head quarters. We were fed a light meal before suiting up and hitching a ride to the river. Instructions were given in Indonesian and then everyone bowed their heads in prayer. Seriously though, I don't think we really put ourselves at much risk. The river ended up being something like class three rapids. I don't have much experience with the nomenclature but I felt it was kind of tame. My group consisted completely of Indos, people who I imagine don't get out much. They all thought it was great fun and it was difficult not to be taken by the enthusiasm. Half way through the trip we switched boats as our rafts had lost air and required refreshing. There was no grand finalé on this stretch of river. Basically we caught the worst of it from the get go and, though there were some tame spots, it never got more risky than what we started with. I took the risk of bringing my camera along (the old one, little guy, not the new, big guy.) This was poor judgment on my part as water splashing into the boat rendered the machine completely useless. I'm not even sure if I can save the memory card so y'all will have to imagine the scenery instead of viewing photographic depictions.
Ah, well, it was good fun anyhow. Afterwards we were fed under the grass canopy and then made for home. It was well after dark when we got back to Bogor and the Boulé crowd was ready for beer. After putting a few down the hatch I stumbled home, exhausted and marginally satisfied.
Saturday, March 31, 2012
Sunday, March 11, 2012
Get Yer Botany On!
Couple weeks ago (I don't when, what am I, a calendar?) I took a stroll down to the famous Bogor Botanical Gardens. This lush oasis of serenity lies in the middle of town and houses the Bogor palace, which is the Governor or President or some official's summer residence. The gardens were established several hundred years ago by the Dutch when they ruled the spice trade in these parts. At that time Bogor was a quiet mountain resort far removed from the hustle of Jakarta, not the bustling suburb it is today. The lush grounds support foliage from all over the world, including a section with conifers, something I thought I'd never see in this country.
I went on a weekend which happens to be the time when the Bourgies from Jakarta bring their families down to the relative quite of Bogor, choking the streets with their increased traffic. A herd of shorty deer roam freely on the palace lawn. They come up to the fence to feed on carrots offered by excited toddlers. Carrots purchased by parents from entrepreneurial Indo's who park themselves by the garden fence for that very purpose. Pretty chill life style them deer have. Eat grass. Eat carrots. Grapple horns with rivals from time to time. Fornicate. Sleep. A veritable deer paradise.
Inside the gardens school children wander about listlessly. A couple of families stop to take pictures with me. Apparently all it takes to be a celebrity around here is white skin. Though certainly exotic and well maintained the place has the air of all botanical gardens I've ever visited. By that I mean too manicured, not wild enough. I prefer a jungle proper, all vines and roots and foliage struggling for the slightest advantage. True nature.
Outside a man is handling snakes. He sees my bulky camera and beckons me over. "Do you want to hold the snake?" Hell's to the affirmative, Mr! The reptile coils languidly about my limbs, a constrictor I presume. The man snaps photos while I slow dance with the serpent. "Kiss! Kiss!" So I pucker and smooch. Poor thing. *Sssssssssssss What issssss thissss ssstrange creature that makessss to bite ussssss? Why musssst it touch usssss with it'ssssss mouth? Let usssssss back in our cage. We're frightened ssssssoo we are ssssssss*
I went on a weekend which happens to be the time when the Bourgies from Jakarta bring their families down to the relative quite of Bogor, choking the streets with their increased traffic. A herd of shorty deer roam freely on the palace lawn. They come up to the fence to feed on carrots offered by excited toddlers. Carrots purchased by parents from entrepreneurial Indo's who park themselves by the garden fence for that very purpose. Pretty chill life style them deer have. Eat grass. Eat carrots. Grapple horns with rivals from time to time. Fornicate. Sleep. A veritable deer paradise.
Inside the gardens school children wander about listlessly. A couple of families stop to take pictures with me. Apparently all it takes to be a celebrity around here is white skin. Though certainly exotic and well maintained the place has the air of all botanical gardens I've ever visited. By that I mean too manicured, not wild enough. I prefer a jungle proper, all vines and roots and foliage struggling for the slightest advantage. True nature.
Outside a man is handling snakes. He sees my bulky camera and beckons me over. "Do you want to hold the snake?" Hell's to the affirmative, Mr! The reptile coils languidly about my limbs, a constrictor I presume. The man snaps photos while I slow dance with the serpent. "Kiss! Kiss!" So I pucker and smooch. Poor thing. *Sssssssssssss What issssss thissss ssstrange creature that makessss to bite ussssss? Why musssst it touch usssss with it'ssssss mouth? Let usssssss back in our cage. We're frightened ssssssoo we are ssssssss*
Saturday, March 10, 2012
Around Bogor
The Worker's Village as Seen From Above
Massive Growth
Even the Foliage Sport Dreds in These Parts
Jungle Drapery
Brilliant Colors Abound
Stray Cats Roam Incessantly
In the Shadow of Volcanoes
My Immediate Neighborhood (For Now)
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| In Bogor the Jungle is at Your Door |
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| Lushness |
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| Jungle Garden |
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| Despite Evidence of Pervasive Poverty Some Homes are Nothing Short of Stately |
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| I Swear The Balcony on This House is Larger Than My Efficiency in Seattle |
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| Boyz in the Bogorhood |
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| Pet Crocodile. For Realz |
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| Funky Growth |
1/28/2012 Concerning My Second Night in Bogor
Stuffy boarding house room. A miniscule bathroom off to the side, proper western toilet, shower head onna hose. A foul mattress, with what appears to be the sweat of many stained deep into the fabric. A small, rough pillow. Tiny desk. That's all. No kitchen. We are not amused.
After sleeping for about 24hrs straight I moseyed over to work to see if anybody could show me around. Just about everybody was going to be busy with classes until 9pm. Sleep some more. Meet up with Elder Pete who's agreed to show me about but seems more interested in eating at home. I hop on the back of his motorbike and we're careening through the dark, wet streets of Bogor, dodging in and out of traffic with the bloke's long hair whipping my eyeballs. A fine introduction to new life if ever there was one. We stop briefly at a street vendor to stock up on Arak (a kind of syrupy rice wine. Oddly enough, sounds like Aragk, the Mongolian fermented horse milk.) The lady funnels the stuff into thick plastic bags and we roar off into the night.
Pete's crib is a bit away from the city center. Quiet and cleaner. He's got a large house, two floors, two bedrooms, two balconies. He draws up some BassDrive live streaming radio on the introwebs and we shoot the shit over diluted glasses of the rice liquor. It's sticky and still quite viscous despite the addition of water. Turn's out Pete's an interesting character. Spent a good chunk of time in Seattle during the early '90's/Grunge era before moving to India where he set up a foundation to aid at risk youth through music.
Before long I'm feeling exhausted again. Jet lag has a special way of clinging tenaciously. Fortunately Pete's got an extra bed so I can pass out on a proper mattress. Despite my torpid state I'm up before dawn. The mullahs at the mosque are calling devout muslims to come out and pray. I have no religious inclination but I find the song compelling. They carry a foreign chord progression that sounds exotic to my ear. Sometimes vocals sound better when the lyrics are not deciphered. Then the voice becomes an instrument rather than a communication device.
The next day we scout around town, gathering simple necessities to make my stay more comfortable. Back at the crib and I've now got clean sheets, bath soap, toilet paper, and power strip for electronics. I bid adieu to my benefactor and set about making my space livable. My employer is putting me up for the month, after which I must pay my own way. Hopefully I can find a spot of my own (This just in: I haven't. Moved out at least. However I've put a down payment on a place in the worker's village. It's actually quite large. I'm eager to move out, but that probably won't happen until April. Furnishing my new digs will surely lighten my wallet. Oh boy.) Around here they take a year's rent upfront and by the looks of it a decent place and furniture will require around two grand (USD.) Despite the large overhead it will be nice to have the place paid off in full from the begining. Afterwards only utility bills are of concern, though I'm told such costs are minimal. Perhaps I'll have enough to hire a maid. Yeah. Bourgeois living, Bogor style. We'll see.
After sleeping for about 24hrs straight I moseyed over to work to see if anybody could show me around. Just about everybody was going to be busy with classes until 9pm. Sleep some more. Meet up with Elder Pete who's agreed to show me about but seems more interested in eating at home. I hop on the back of his motorbike and we're careening through the dark, wet streets of Bogor, dodging in and out of traffic with the bloke's long hair whipping my eyeballs. A fine introduction to new life if ever there was one. We stop briefly at a street vendor to stock up on Arak (a kind of syrupy rice wine. Oddly enough, sounds like Aragk, the Mongolian fermented horse milk.) The lady funnels the stuff into thick plastic bags and we roar off into the night.
Pete's crib is a bit away from the city center. Quiet and cleaner. He's got a large house, two floors, two bedrooms, two balconies. He draws up some BassDrive live streaming radio on the introwebs and we shoot the shit over diluted glasses of the rice liquor. It's sticky and still quite viscous despite the addition of water. Turn's out Pete's an interesting character. Spent a good chunk of time in Seattle during the early '90's/Grunge era before moving to India where he set up a foundation to aid at risk youth through music.
Before long I'm feeling exhausted again. Jet lag has a special way of clinging tenaciously. Fortunately Pete's got an extra bed so I can pass out on a proper mattress. Despite my torpid state I'm up before dawn. The mullahs at the mosque are calling devout muslims to come out and pray. I have no religious inclination but I find the song compelling. They carry a foreign chord progression that sounds exotic to my ear. Sometimes vocals sound better when the lyrics are not deciphered. Then the voice becomes an instrument rather than a communication device.
The next day we scout around town, gathering simple necessities to make my stay more comfortable. Back at the crib and I've now got clean sheets, bath soap, toilet paper, and power strip for electronics. I bid adieu to my benefactor and set about making my space livable. My employer is putting me up for the month, after which I must pay my own way. Hopefully I can find a spot of my own (This just in: I haven't. Moved out at least. However I've put a down payment on a place in the worker's village. It's actually quite large. I'm eager to move out, but that probably won't happen until April. Furnishing my new digs will surely lighten my wallet. Oh boy.) Around here they take a year's rent upfront and by the looks of it a decent place and furniture will require around two grand (USD.) Despite the large overhead it will be nice to have the place paid off in full from the begining. Afterwards only utility bills are of concern, though I'm told such costs are minimal. Perhaps I'll have enough to hire a maid. Yeah. Bourgeois living, Bogor style. We'll see.
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