I took the overnight train to Jogja to meet Kit and Claire who arrived on a flight from KL on Wednesday. Gajayana is usually a pleasant train to ride and has the special advantage of sockets to plug in laptops, so it is possible to work or watch a film while travelling. This time it was different; the train was late t start with and no sooner had we left than there was a loud metalic clunk and speed droped to a crawl. There was an announcement about a problem, which I assumed was the clunk, but later found out was in fact a bad accident that had blocked the line. We passed through strange towns I did not recognise as I stared out into the darkness. For some strange reason Indonesians seem to have an objection to signs that give useful information, but not to advertising, which is everywhere. So few of the tourist Offices,temples and museums have anything more than than a sign giving opening times. Station names are displayed but in small letters and cleverly placed where they cannot be read from the train. I began to worry I would fall asleep and miss Jogja. The intended hour of arrival passed and the train was still limping on somewhere in unknown territory. Eventually it began to get light and I was convinced that I would not reach the airport on time. Then we pulled into Solo a city near Jogja and somewhere I recognised as it is normlly just an hour's ride away. Two hours later I reached Jogja, raced out of the station to my hotel - they were wondering what had happened to me - put my bags in the room and took a taxi to the airport. To my surprise Kit and Claire were on the right flight and did not get stopped for having green and blue hair. I expect at least two hours grilling from the Immigration Police in a small dark room with a bright light. I has booked us into my favourite hotel in the centre of the tourist area. Hotel 1001 Malam, quiet, cool, clean, a leafy courtyard with fishpond and very near the station. That is were we have spent the last three nights. We have done both Borobudur and Prambanan and though it was my second visit to Borobudur and my third to Prambanan I still saw many new details I'd missed, especially in Prambana where some new areas of the Siva complex have been opened up. Last night we sat on Agus's roof with his friend Postman (Posman) and drank beer and whisky looking out over the lights of Jogja and lsistening to the excited yells from far below everytime there was a goal or near miss in the Holland against Brazil World Cup game. Suddenly a torrentual storm forced us all down into Agus's tiny room where we sat and talked until late in the night before returning to the hotel on the back of motorbikes. I had heard all about Agus's roof from Maddy and Lisa when we all lived in Jogja but had never been there, so I was keen to see the famous roof before I left. Roof, Borobudur and Prambanan are certainly the three most interesting places to visit while in Yogyakarta.
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Help! Claire and I are being held hostage by a lunatic blog-writer! Send the army, send the police, send the SAS!!
Lisa's Party.
After the show I expected things to slow down but instead there was the skripsi to get printed, flights to book, arranging to meet Kit in Jogja, trying to find some way to send packages home and Lisa's Birthday party. In the picture you can see Jack from Vietnam, white shirt, Firsty, Mumu's friend, fingers, 'The Lesbians', sitting against the wall talking to Madison, Lisa, Maksum, Reza and others. Traditional Indonesian party games were played; Pass the Parcel, full of used bank notes to the Government Official, Musical Chairs when the music stops the poorest give up their seats, Charades, 'All Indonesians get along together like one big happy family and Pin the Tail on the Kuda Lumping. And a couple of our old familiar Western games too, Make a Pile and Silly Jumps. A great time was had by all, except Brooke who was not there and probably making plans to take over the world up in her eerie on Puncat Tidar. The food was excellent. I should know I made it. Well most of it. The presentation and show are over, my skripsi (thesis) is at the printers, so unless something terrible has gone wrong it really is all over. I spent the whole of yesterday at the printers, usual problems, long wait then problems with formatting. At least the 11 year old girl whom I saw first thought so. An hour later when I returned and talked to a thirteen year old there was no problem at all, except she forgot to print out some of the pictures so when we were finalising details such as colour of cover (wine red) it turned out that pages were missing and an important customer had come in with an urgent order, so it was another hour's wait. I had also grabbed an example skripsi to make sure they knew what I wanted. I want one just like this with a red cover, I said. So when I collect my copies tonight I will not be surprised to see Benita Chudleigh written in large letters across the front.
You are probably all dying to know how the show went after the fiasco of my presentation. First I spent an interesting day hunting the red and white Indonesian flags, Sang Merah Putih, that we needed. I went from shop to shop in the centre of town – I had thought it would be simple as so many football fans wave them as they ride around on their motorbikes – try this, that and the other place I was told and finally, Arema City. AREMA is the local football team and Arema City is the big shop where you can buy lion hats, lion mugs, cuddly lions, lion stickers, lion masks, lion tee shirts, lion toilet paper – sorry not true.- and all kinds of other lion themed things as well as flags, for as you have guessed, the lion is the AREMA mascot. Neighbouring city Surabaya has the crocodile and lion/croc rivalry is intense. They did have Merah Putih but naturally it was the Indonesian flag with a rather surprised looking lion snarling in the centre, as though someone had just stepped on its tail. I had just about given up and was walking back past the station when I was accosted - in the usual Indonesian way -by some men sitting under a tree. Where are you going? Where are you from? Are you married? – the answer is always 'not yet'.- How many children do you have? How much do you earn? And so on. I told him my problem and he assured me it was no problem. He borrowed a pen from his friend and drew a map on my hand, put me in a becak, with strict instructions not to pay more that 5000 Rph and sent me off to the flag shop. By the way, my new best friend's name was Tommi. What are the chances of that? Extraordinary coincidence. He gave me his hp number and I was going to invite him to the show, but I lost it shortly afterwards. He should have written it on my hand. When I returned to No 1 Jalan Mandalawangi I found Maksum had already got us the flags, so one of the spares went up the flagpole and the other in the window. The day of the show Madison and Mumu gave what was probably their best performance during rehearsal. Not that they did not give a splendid performance that evening, but with the press cameras flashing and light hearted heckling from the audience – the show included asides to the audience- it was much harder work and they did not achieve the perfect synchronisation of languages they did in the afternoon. No matter, it all went extremely well and to an international audience, Poland, Gambia, Australia, UK and Viv representing the UN. I should also mention the excellence of the food I prepared. The stuff I brought ready prepared from the big supermarket was not bad either. The show ended to rapturous applause, Maddy and Mumu took their bow and we all had a party. I say no more about the party except that Brooke.... I say no more about the party except that at about 3am the neighbours complained about the noise. You may also like to know that I have been promoted to Lecturer in Indonesian at SOAS. At least according to the local newspaper. It’s all over now except for printing the penelitian (study) and the show. The girls presentations were all amazing and they displayed great fluency in Indonesian. Mine however was more like a slapstick comedy routine. We were in a large lecture hall with a square of table and chairs three deep, on three sides and a row of chairs, laptop and screen on the other where the presenters sat. Naturally, we all thought we would be sitting there and taking turns to stand up and present Our work. I laid out my laptop, notes and prompt cards along with the CD containing my PowerPoint show and then slipped outside for a cigarette. When I returned we had all been moved to various places around the room but I could see Benita’s white laptop where she had left it on the table and assumed my things were there too. I should know by now never to assume. The presentations started with Brooke on the problems of fishermen in Rote, Indonesia’s most southerly island, who stray into Australian waters, followed by Madison on SRI rice. She had a wonderful martial rice planting song but there was no volume and she continued in a serious and measured manner like someone giving a proper report. Both really good and packed with relevant facts. Brooke wore a silly hat (the costume of Rote) and Benita had picture of herself in jilbab. Both items which impressed the audience. Then I was up. I walked up and found my laptop notes, and all the rest, had vanished. After some frantic enquiries the were discovered on the other side of the room, as I walked over to get them I tripped over a microphone cable. Recovering with some panache I retrieved my things and returned almost tripping over another microphone. But… I made a good start by claiming I was feeling far to hot and slowly taking off my shirt. I know it would have made more of an impression if one of the girls had done it, but it impressed nevertheless as under my, batik, shirt I was wearing a Mangunwijaya as Colonel Sanders tee shirt. The likeness is remarkable. It was all downhill from there. All the others have hard facts about yields of rice per hectare, the number of pesantren teaching nuclear physics, the opinion of villagers in Ponorogo on dance theft (Look up ‘barong dance Malaysia’ on Google) and numbers of fish stolen from the mouths of Australian children. All I had was, ‘I thought this book would make a good show.’ But I have 10,000 words on the topic so I ploughed on while trying to put my notes back into some kind of order, they’d been totally mixed up. While describing some crucial points I inadvertently slipped into French. Well they spell point ‘poin’ too. Angleterre, Un Poin; La France, Dix Poins. I had pinned a lot of hope on my two recordings of Murty (Mumu) reading from Durga/Umayi, but when I reached those slides I inadvertently clicked in the wrong place and found myself back in Brooke’s presentation, which she had carelessly left lying around on the computer. Maddy helped me get back into my own show and I opened the sound files. There was no amplifier. Why had I assumed because there was one last time there would be one now? By holding the microphone right up against the laptop I was able to get as screech of feedback and some inaudible mutterings. From there I moved quickly to the close and the dreaded ‘questions from the audience’. They say India took the concept of bureaucracy and perfected it, well, the Indonesians have taken the simple question and turned it into something so horribly complex that you can only gasp at their ingenuity. A simple question like, ‘Do they eat a lot of fish in Rote?’ begins with a brief account of Javanese eating habits and how although they prefer rice they too like fish, usually grilled but sometimes fried and often with a nice sauce. .But other people have other people have other eating habits, the Americans like burgers, for example. You can have fish burgers but they are not as popular as beef burgers, which are halal in Indonesia and it’s a real treat to go to the local Macdonalds once in a while. I once read that Norway catches a lot of fish. Or was it Iceland. I don’t remember but Japan does too and they eat sushi and kill whales. By the way, do they eat a lot of fish in Rote? My grandfather did not like fish at all but the very honourable Chancellor of this university is a connoisseur of fine fish and has some in a tank in his office.’ That VERY BRIEFLY is how the Indonesians phrase their questions. A question that does not take at least ten minutes is hardly worth asking. Notice how the actual question is embedded somewhere in the mass of drivel. There were some masters of that kind of question in the room. And, instead of taking questions one at a time, the questions came one after another and then we went through and answered them all one by one. We all had trouble even Lisa who speaks Indonesian like an….. Indonesian. In retrospect I’m not bothered that my answers had nothing to do with questions. I had no idea what the question was and just answered the question that I wanted to be asked. ‘Yes, we do have a pet rabbit and my favourite colour is puce.’ And then it was over. ACICIS Director Phil very kindly said the presentation was not that bad but he was disappointed that no one had broken down into tears and fled the room this year. I didn’t tell him I came close. I have almost finished my work on Durga/Umayi but now find I cannot print it or convert it to pdf. So I will not be writing much on this blog until the problem is solved.
Kit and Clare will be coming out in July and I have to work out what we will be doing. Back to trying to sort out my computer problems. http://www.newscientist.com/article/mg20627631.500-samuel-fallours-and-his-fantasy-fish.htmlweeblylink_new_window
I read the article - follow the link above - about Fallour's Fantastic Fish in this week's New Scientist and was reminded of this blog. True I post no pictures of fantastic fish, at least not yet, but there is something about living here which drives one towards madness. Life often seems like being set upon by clowns; a constant battle against the absurd. For example my watch has 80 minute hours. I'm not making this up. Leaving Malang to come here to Jogja and work on my 10,000 word study I had to catch the 4.30 train, Gajayana, I looked at my watch and it was 4.85 so I rushed, only to arrive half an hour early. Having an extra 20 minutes in a hour should be reassuring but quite the opposite, it is extremely unsettling. I want to buy a new watch but somehow having one already on your wrist does not jog the memory when passing the cheap watch shops. I suspect Fallour's watch was something like mine. I blame it on the heat of the tropica NIGHTS. Only another two weeks before the presentation and completed study followed by the performance. So I will not be putting up much on the blog. The picture is of Mumu rehearsing, I will put up some others soon as I get the chance and the i This is your new blog post. Click here and start typing, or drag in elements from the top bar.
I've added a few new photos to the Photos Page. but it is an almost impossible task most of the time. It was a lot easier in Jogja where there were nearby internet cafes with good access. It is also quite difficult to send long emails and posting a letter means a trip into town and long queues at the Post Office for stamps. It is easier for me to write the blog than email.
Please keep sending cards and letters to the address on the Home Page. It is areal treat to find one in the post box. Yes, this picture is of Madison kissing a rabbit. This is the kind of degeneracy I live with. Once the plates are not washed immediately after use, the bins start being overfilled, then you start to take your clothes to the laundry once an month instead of once a week.... and finally you end up kissing rabbits. It's the long hot nights that do it. That and the dubious quality of the local 'licker' (as Madison calls it).Brooke appears to have gone mad while off on Rote island, she began to send texts from 'The Heart of Darkness' and her room was raided by the police. Presumably her reputation had spread throughout the island. How much she had to pay not to be deported I don't know. Back to the rabbit. The Malang Festival is on and we went to see it. The three girls, me and three of Maddy's entourage of young men. All in one car. Luckily my age commands the front seat. That and, I suspect, a little prurient enjoyment of being squashed up like a tinful of hamsters bythose on the back seat. The festival theme is Malang in Times Past - a theme beloved by festivals from Scott Base Antarctica to Wadi Jebel Kamelbone in the Sahara, by way of Clun.- 'Times Past' I mean, miss out the Malang.- It was interesting to seen that the Javanese idea of a festival is to seal off a few streets, line them with stalls, add a wayang stage and then cram in as many -or more- people as is physically possible. The crowd then ignores the wayang and shuffles slowly to one end of the street, (pausing only briefly to cheer and shout ribald comments at transvestites.) then turns and shuffles back,then turns and shuffles back (pausing etc.) then turns and ..... I don't know how long this goes on for as I only stayed a few hours. Apart from transvestite taunting, the next most popular activity was taking a break in one of the many food stalls that lined the street, or buying a silly hat, from a silly-hat seller, or a potato peeler, or an Arema (our football team) tee shirt..... I saw something I had been looking for all over Jogja, a device for changing the lamp bulbs on high ceilings. I didn't have the Indonesian and it is not the thing you can look up in the dictionary. I tried saying in bahasa Indonesia 'thing-for-changing-lightbulbs-on-high-ceilings' and I was shown a bizarre range of light fittings, patriotic flags and baroque plaster mouldings until I finally gave up. Now in Malang, where I don't need one, I see them with a large label telling me they are called stick lampu. Why didn't I think of that. .... or a rabbit. It was on my bed when I arrived back aafter the others. They though it would give me a surprise. In fact the sight of a small brown furry bunny gave me an overwhelming feeling of relief that there were no crocodiles on sale at the festival. |
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June 2011
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