catch up

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.