Ridiculous, bizarre, amazing… these are the days of my life. I wake up to different faces, places, and countries so often that it has become so fabulously commonplace (that could sound very slutty of me, but come on now, my life’s not THAT exciting!) Things that terrified me are now daily normality, things that were on dreamy wish lists have happened without a second thought. And I keep moving and moving and moving. My “nine-to-five” is never predictable, my “boring” is strange and surreal, my answer to “what’s next?” remains a question mark. How do I stop after all this spinning? Will I ever really want to?
Despite the entertaining circus act and in constant motion nature of my questionable existence there is still the occasional cause to hesitate when I hear hints that I’m too old for this. Some days that hint shouts very, very loudly. I do know that some see me as ridiculous, a burnout, a silly old woman trying desperately to hang on to a prime that has passed me by many moons ago but then I meet people who take my breath away, I hear stories that I want to make mine, and I am part of places and spaces that leave their mark on my soul. I try to dismiss the snickering (whether real or imagined) and continue to barrel straight on. I am not travelling. I am living and learning and loving. Is it really possible to be too old for this?
Okay, enough with the melancholic mauling of what is meant to be a story-telling fiesta of my romps through this great big world. Let’s recap the last couple of months, shall we? We shall…
First and most importantly… I’m in love. A hot little redhead who isn’t afraid to move quickly and makes my heart beat a little faster every time we’re together. Our relationship is scary and exciting and something I have wanted for a very, very long time. Yes, my dear friends, I am in love with my motorbike. Don’t laugh. It’s true. It all started almost exactly 6 years ago, October 2005, when I first touched down on Thai soil and had my protected and perfect little world shaken and shattered wide open. The back of a motorbike as my TAXI ride to school?!? Are you kidding me? It didn’t take long. I was side-saddled in a skirt, bag in my lap, texting like I was born on the back of one of those babies. Seeing bits and pieces of SE Asia rocking and rolling via the back of the seat with a local hired show-you-around; always hitching rides on one whenever the need was there. Oh how I love those bikes.
Faced with having to drive one, through the nerve-shattering chaos at aggressive and impatient race-track speeds, I wasn’t sure the love affair would last, I wasn’t sure that we were meant to be after all. Why oh why I doubted you, sweet scooter motorbike, I will be forever sorry. I have only come to love you more and more and more. Despite all the near misses, my mirrors and handlebars being side-swiped on a regular basis (while in motion), having my toes stomped on by someone needing to get into those extra two inches of space I left between me and the bike in front of me, the frequent, heart-lurching sudden stops and the width of a hair cut-offs, and the regular questioning of whether is it safer for me to stop at that red light or actually continue on through it… oh wow, I do still love you. The city streets have tried to tear us apart; we do get on much better when there are wide open spaces for us to explore and oh how I look forward to many more speedy adventures with you. Good times and bad, as is the case in any relationship, but I think this is a forever thing. Lucky, lucky me.
So yes folks, I have learned to hold my own in these mean, mean, motorbike scenes. I’ll check back in with you once Red & I have had our first go with the rainy season. That will be the true test, but I think we’ll be fine, absolutely fine.
I have lucked out in the employment world, this is for sure. While I was challenged, humbled, and overwhelmed most days over the first term, I work with some incredibly talented and supremely supportive people. Kelt, the company I work for, is top-notch, truly, and if it wasn’t based smack in the middle of a very big city, I would consider settling in for a while. Alas, this isn’t the case so I will appreciate the utter ease of my current life and know I will look back on it very fondly one day. A week into second term and I am now comfortably back in my role of English teacher. While many of the older students know more about the grammatical ins and outs of why this is said that way and that is put there, I can still smile, make up some little line of bullshit and give them homework to make sure that they really understand what they’re talking about. Ah, life is good when you’re pretending to be in charge. My first term at yet another new job in yet another new country has been yet another insanity filled success in the grand scheme of things. Life is good, good, good.
That being said, second term will be a bit more challenging as we have 11 solid weeks without a holiday! Pssshaw! What the hell?! Got lucky first term as Idul Fitri was celebrated a few weeks after I arrived in but this time, nope, nothing but regular weekends until Christmas, when we get another two weeks off. Anyone feeling sorry for me yet? Yeah, don’t. If you’ve seen the photos on Facebook, even though I haven’t kept up the blog, I’ve obviously been having far too much fun here. Quick rundown of some of my local escapades…
Oh, before I move on, I must make mention of a significant loss in my Surabayan life, even though I have only been here three months. Fellow Canadian and English teacher in Indo for six years Ms. Xenia Wiens has returned to Winnipeg (ugh!) to explore her options. She was my motorbike instructor, Indonesian interpreter, school guidance counselor, tour guide, local support system, and fellow kindred spirit goofball. We spend many days and nights laughing at life and those in it. Oh how I miss my very funny, call-it-as-it-is friend. Xenia, we are all waiting for your return. Winter in Winnipeg… yeah, good luck with that.
Tracing back the tales of my Facebook photos, I’m not sure where to start. There are days that seem “normal”, as normal as things can be living here in another world, and then there are days that stop me in my tracks and that feeling of looking in on someone else’s life takes over. A couple of months back, Xenia took me on a motorbike training ride to Medura, a big island just over SE Asia’s biggest bridge, and that was one of those days. Surabaya is big and loud, dirty and crowded, all those things that sadly turn people off of Asian cities but the city does eventually end and the countryside begins and life seems to take on a whole new vibe. Across this massive and frighteningly exciting bridge is a very developed island with towns and conveniences and all that is real world but it was a rural real world. The roads were calmer, there were farming fields and wide open spaces and there were tiny, tiny villages. As Xenia and I were weaving our way through smaller and smaller roads that turned into dirt paths that soon cut through people’s front yards, we naturally were stared at and then stopped by the local welcome party. These are the days I live for.
We were joyously brought back to someone’s house where the majority of the village hangs out and through the broken (and often comical) proclamations of the spokesperson for the group, we were proudly put on display and warmly welcomed to share their hang out space. Photos were taken, of course, and more and more people were brought by to meet us. Again, not much conversation, just kind smiles and offers to sit next to this person or that. So very lovely.
Eventually the boys of the group tired of this village social setting and offered to take us to the waterfront, which we were originally looking for. Local yahoos turned tour guides put us on the back of our own bikes (!)and they drove us through some tricky rice paddy and mangrove paths to bring us to a waterfront – ish area where more photos were taken and love matches were attempted. All innocent and exceptionally funny, but yeah, we were kind of expecting that. To be honest, I did make a “Killing Fields” reference to Xenia as the two of us girls were walking through empty paddies and muddied mangroves with about 8 boy-sized men, realizing a little too late that should they decide to make trouble, we’d have a good fight on our hands. We both know the power of swinging a bike helmet full force at someone’s head though, just in case.
A long day of driving places where white faces don’t go, being invited into homes, being giggled at and waved at and generally feeling welcomed by genuine hospitality is what makes me want to continue poking along in these far off places. Pictures show nothing, it’s the feeling of “is this really my life?” that I can’t get enough of. A really, really good day.
Another random event… team building weekend for the Kelt employees at an incredibly beautiful mountain getaway, get this… free of charge. Yeah, bussed up there in screaming pumpkin orange t-shirts, subjected to horrifically cheesy moments of team building activities followed by either a “how did that make you feel” session or a full out bollocking for not taking the activity seriously enough and disrespecting ourselves and our teammates. Ummm… Indonesians should NOT do psychotherapy, under any circumstances. Ever.
Discovered that most Indonesians will find the smallest things endlessly funny and fall apart in fits of giggles for exceptionally long periods of time leaving the rest of us to wander off task or quite literally, wander off, again, warranting a bollocking for disrespecting ourselves and our teammates. Making a mistake in counting from 1 – 40 gets you a polite smile from me the first time you start laughing hysterically however it does nothing but make me want to tie my obscenely orange t-shirt tightly around my neck until my eyes pop out when it happens the 17th time and you’re still laughing about it like it’s Comedy Central. Ah, cultural difference, how I love thee.
Despite the MINOR frustrations, we were put up in the NICEST place, fed incredible food, treated so well, had a massive bonfire and wandered through stunning scenery. The grand finale… a team-building assault course of ziplines and monkey bars and general test your limits kind of stuff. Yep! THIS is what I was waiting for! Climbing harnesses on, who wants to try it first? Oops, sorry, push, shove, excuse me, excuse me, I elbowed my way to the front of the line… me! Me! ME! SO off I go. A little climb, a little balancing act, a little swinging, it looked pretty tame from the ground. Not so much once you started going through it but… LOVED it! Scary stuff for some, I want to do it AGAIN for me. Really, really good fun! And such a nice way to spend time with people I didn’t have a chance to spend much time with before. All care of Kelt. Thank you, Kelt!
Another random day… visiting this bizarre zoo/museum/amusement park area a few hours outside of the city with a busload of super duper terrific kids from a local Surabayan orphanage. Connections from someone to someone and our donation bought entrance tickets and rented buses for about 40 kids for the day. Wasn’t really sure what to expect, but yep, fell in love. Got my two little buddies who were fairly unsure of what to make of this far too excited white girl but they soon forgave me my giddiness and accepted the endless photo ops and attempts to interact with them. They were amazing. As we explored the cool creepy crawlies pinned and posed under glass in the museum, visited with the real life creepy crawlies in the zoo, and goofed around in the activity park, I was in love. From the belly laughing, these kids were so good to each other, so polite and easy to manage, so appreciative of small things… yeah, exhausting, incredible, so exactly perfect. Future outings? Count me in! How lucky am I?!
And yes, since I’ve been here, not one but TWO diving holidays. *sigh* Rough, I know.
First one, ultimate dive destination, Bunaken, Northern Sulawesi with three other teachers. I was pretty darn excited (shocking, I know) and wanted to plan and book things for the week (even MORE shocking, yes) but no, no, let’s just wing it. After arriving on the island and spending MANY hours walking around trying to sort out a place to stay and (damn you guys!) a place to dive, they conceded to my wrath and agreed that winging it on THE busiest holiday week in Indonesia maybe wasn’t the best plan. No worries however as in the end, we found places to lay our heads and people to take us under the sea.
A VERY chilled out week spending time with some fabulous new friends. The diving, yeah, I’ve been spoiled. The weather wasn’t super cooperative but the diving, stunning. And one of my most favourite things to do is to be part of new divers experiencing the world that has taken over my life. Absolutely love it. So much fun for me. On a completely selfish note… Winner for the week… one dive: 9 black tip reef sharks. Fist pumps, yeehaws, flipping out of my mind. You could hear my screams of excitement on the surface. Well done, Bunaken, well done. I hope to be back someday. Sadly because I’m writing from memory (which is full of holes and thoroughly pathetic), I’ve lost what I’m sure are some great stories. My latest diving holiday however is still fresh in my mind so I’m going to dedicate an entire entry all on its own to my week in & around The Gilis Islands. Keep reading folks….
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