On Language and Cultural Immersion

Here's another entry I wrote for the VIA blog, this time about what it's like being a Filipina-American living in Indonesia:

On Language and Cultural Immersion

“You’re more Indonesian than Filipino now!” joked Mr. Dan Lapid, a visitor from the Philippines, as I sang along to a street performer on guitar playing the famous Noah song “Separuh Aku” at a food stall near Borobudur Temple. Mr. Lapid, a sanitation expert from an NGO in the Philippines, had just administered a three-day training session on ecological sanitation, which YDD helped to organize. This was Mr. Lapid’s one day to sight-see, and he had invited me to join him, along with a few of my colleagues.

“Just wait ’til you hear me sing Filipino songs on karaoke!” I joked back. He laughed.

 with Mr. Lapid, co-workers, and friends at Borobudur Temple 

 
Mr. Lapid's comment, though spoken in jest, is actually something I’ve been thinking about lately. People here tell me that I look very Indonesian. And the manner in which I’ve been able to blend in Indonesian society, due to appearance-bias and my ability to speak basic Indonesian, has been an endless source of fascination to me. In many ways, it has worked to my advantage, especially when bargaining on Jalan Malioboro (the famous shopping street in Yogyakarta), and also when v siting famous tourist sites, where I am never asked to be taken in photos with strangers.

On the other hand, as is perhaps inevitable, it has gotten me thinking about identity issues. I recognize that shame I feel at my inability to speak the language of my motherland. Despite my heritage, how much do I really know about Filipino culture if I can’t speak Tagalog (Filipino)? Ever since I’ve been in Indonesia — living and working and trying to blend in — this question has become even more prominent in my life.

with Mr. Lapid, co-workers, and friends at Tamansari 

When I was in Singapore three months ago for a visa run, I visited Lucky Plaza, a mall with many Filipino restaurants and stores. Sometimes referred to as “LIttle Philippines”, Lucky Plaza is a famous shopping destination for many Filipinos living in Singapore. I stood in front of a counter with all sorts of amazing Filipino dishes laid out to choose: adobo, pinakbet, kare-kare, pansit, lumpia… I was startled out of my happy daze when the lady behind the counter suddenly asked me in Tagalog what I wanted to order.

I froze in response. It was a deer-in-headlights moment. Familiar with basic Tagalog, I understood what she was asking, but the only responses I could think of were all Indonesian: Boleh saya minta… Saya mau… These words fired about in my head, and I was confused about what to do. So instead of saying anything, I smiled and pointed, as I used to do when I first arrived in Indonesia. The lady smiled and asked me, in Tagalog, where I was from. I responded in English: “I’m from America… but I was born in the Philippines.”

If anything, learning Indonesian and immersing myself in this previously unfamiliar country, has given me a new sort of conviction. If I can learn Indonesian, if I can joke in Indonesian with my co-workers, and if I can ask questions in Indonesian to a farmer on Flores Island, who’s to say that I can’t one day immerse myself in my family’s culture?

Before leaving for Borobudur, Mr. Lapid said to me, “Maybe I can convince you to come to Manila!”

I laughed and responded, “There’s no need to convince me! I plan on going there someday.”

Behind the Scenes of Technology

Things are moving along, and work is being done. I've always been interested in technological development, not only in terms of how it impacts people, but also how people shape the direction that technology moves forward. Here's a short blog piece I wrote for the VIA blog about being behind the scenes of a new technological development:

Behind the Scenes of Technology

A few weeks ago I sat in a brand new Boeing 737-900ER and found myself excited about the past, present and future. When I looked up at the snazzy new interiors, I briefly relived my experience as an engineer working for one of the largest aviation companies in the world. The sentiment was almost bittersweet: I am able to fly in Indonesia because of work that my previous employer is responsible for — and I am in Indonesia because I chose to leave that very company.

When I looked to my left I saw my present: two of my superiors at Yayasan Dian Desa, the NGO to which I am now assigned and working with. We were on our way to Jakarta for a technical committee meeting in support of the Indonesia Cookstove Initiative, a program that promotes the research, development, and eventual market dissemination of clean cookstoves in Indonesia, in an effort to minimize cooking emissions that contribute to household air pollution. Household air pollution is a threat recognized internationally and is particularly relevant for many Indonesian households. Within Indonesia, YDD is leading the way to establish national standards for testing and certification of improved cookstoves, and the results from this program will undoubtedly have an impact on the international scene.

A man from Kulon Progo Regency trying out a lighting cone for the first time. The lighting cone is designed to speed up ignition time and reduce emissions. 

And my role in all this? It’s quite exciting, really. I am working closely with YDD and our World Bank technical consultant to develop a new testing methodology, and I am now assisting YDD with anything related to this effort. This new methodology is a rather innovative departure from the existing and widely accepted international “standard”, which has been challenged by several scientific and social science thinkers throughout the years — including our technical consultant — for its flaws and shortcomings. However, trying to promote a new method after many years of a “certain way of doing things” is not without its challenges. To be honest, the politics surrounding whether or not our consultant’s method will be accepted (and accepted by who?) has been one of the most fascinating parts of my work.

Close-up shot of a Keren traditional stove

At the technical committee meeting, I watched as our technical consultant earnestly presented his case, which was then discussed and debated by various players: academics, government officials, NGOs, and cookstove entrepreneurs. Watching the discussion unfold brought me back to the lessons I learned in a sociology course I once took in Singapore, titled Science, Technology, and Society. In that class I learned that the wide acceptance of a new technology or scientific discovery almost always depends on existing institutions and power structures. And sometimes the “truest” method or “truest” scientific discovery does not prevail — at least, not right away.

Considering all this, YDD is truly a pioneer, and I admire that they are able to take new ideas and adapt it to their practices and goals. Only time will tell whether or not these efforts will be accepted, duplicated, or challenged by others — especially after the rest of the international cookstove community really pays attention to what we’re doing. I, for one, am really glad that YDD is seeking the most appropriate solution, and I’m excited to be a part of it.

Five Weeks In

I'm finishing up my 5th week at my new position, and I'm exhausted. It's a challenging job, more challenging than I ever anticipated it would be. A few people have said this to me when they found out about my professional background: "You used to work on airplanes and jet engines? Then working on cookstoves should be easy, right?" 

Not really. It might even be more difficult! So I'm sitting here now, trying to digest the past month, trying to understand the stress I feel in this new position. What makes it challenging are the various social and technical factors that are being thrown at me all at once. The learning curve is one of the steepest I've had to face.

First, I am a foreigner with limited Indonesian-language skills. This is not a new struggle, and I believe that every fellow in my position has gone through this. But that does not make my current challenge any less real, any less impacting. It's making me think a lot about how much I take English for granted, how much I take communication for granted. My voice, my ability to make conversation, my ability to make people laugh and smile, especially in a work environment, has always been one of my strengths. And now I am forced to express my personality in a completely new way, using a language in which I am not yet fluent. 

It's not easy. Sometimes I don't even feel like myself.

Secondly, I've had to come to terms with my identity as an engineer. To put my role as a VIA fellow here simply: I am here to offer whatever skills I have, whether it's my fluency in English, my ability to write and think critically, or my background in engineering. But the truth is, the extremely high expectations that come with that title, Engineer -- especially one who is fluent in English -- has created (what I feel to be) enormous pressure, with perhaps unrealistic expectations, on me and my role with the organization. Without getting into the messy details, let's just say that cookstove-science is really quite political, with fragmented bits of information and expertise floating around the world. Trying to piece together these many bits is like trying to read the minds of many scientists AND social scientists, some who are OVERLY technical (thereby losing me in their scientific jargon on matters in which I have limited background), and others who are not technical enough. My technical co-workers are great and are helping me understand some things, but other matters are a puzzle. What I need is a mentor, but I don't have that. Without a proper technical mentor to ease me into this world, it's a lot to take on.

But I'm trying my best.

Amidst it all, I'm trying my best, and I'm learning a lot, even if the information is fragmented. I really think that I could be good at the job given time, especially once I've come to terms with these two things: language (for ease of communication with my co-workers), and my role (as an engineer and non-engineer).

Truth is, I don't want to just be the foreigner and the engineer. I want to be one of them, a colleague who can communicate and ask the right questions. I want to be the multi-skilled individual, and I want to be given a chance to prove myself in areas outside of the technical. I've done the uber-engineering thing, and I want to branch out. That's why I came out here. I want to know about NGO budgeting. I want to branch into the social sciences. I want to be able to talk to the citizens we are supposedly helping and working with. 

Perhaps you could think of these things as goals. This entry was not meant to be a long rant, and I hope it's not taken that way. It's just that today was a particularly interesting day, and since I haven't yet written about my new position, here it is… in all its candidness. 

I am uncomfortable. I am unsure of myself. But I am hopeful.

Life Here

A lot of things have happened, and I need to write soon.  In the meantime, here's something I wrote back on May 7, 2013, after a trip to Bali:

Here's the thing, we're getting addicted to traveling. We look at our calendar frequently and think of the next time we have a long weekend, then try to plan something. Even if it's just two days, I always want to go do something… the beach, camping, hiking, biking. I want to see people, see places, smell things. My days are getting so busy. I'm backlogged on grading. I have been accepting way more side jobs than I can chew. But I love it all.

I think in many ways I have a pretty ideal job. My housing is free. I am getting paid. It's not much by US standards ($150/month), and I can't really save a lot, but it's enough to get to by in Yogyakarta. I can eat tempe every day (this, by the way, will probably be the thing I miss the most when I eventually leave, that is, easy access to freshly incubated tempe, fried to perfection). I can drink guava juice whenever I want. I have a job where I can impact the lives of students. Today we had a lesson on interviews, but I used it as an opportunity to instill this idea that failure isn't the end of the world. That experiencing failure is a way we can succeed.

Sometimes I get these chills when I teach, when I feel like students are really understanding the lesson, when i feel like students really care. I've been feeling it a lot more this semester than the last, and it's a feeling that I've grown to love. I am going to miss it when I stop teaching and start working at YDD.

Last week (Wednesday night - Saturday morning) I was in Bali: two days in Ubud, one day in Kuta. I met up with an old college friend, Habi. She's Malaysian but had never been to Indonesia prior to last week, so we decided what better time than now? Two months ago we booked our flights and finally last week got in touch about it again. Made last-minute plans, and it was amazing. Ubud was filled with delicious fresh vegetables. The yoga scene there (think Eat, Pray, Love) seems to have inspired a craze for healthy foods, namely organic produce. The presence of foreigners has resulted in a multitude of organic cafes, complete with fusion recipes. I had a tempe taco with guacamole, beans, lettuce, and tomatoes. What heavenly simple ideas! But sooo amazing. We also saw a lot of Hindu temples and even watched a Hindu ceremony. It was a contrast from the culture I have been experiencing in Jogja.

Habi and me, standing in front of the Goa Gajah (Elephant Cave) 

An organic strawberry farm in Bali

What I might take most from the trip, however, was probably the way Habi and I finally got to bond. We gossiped about people from college, told stories about people we had forgotten, stories of broken hearts and happy hearts.

There's so much we can miss from each other's lives if we choose to keep it to ourselves. I'm always so happy to bond with other women, and it's been happening more and more lately in Indonesia.

So there's no goal to this particular post except to say that I've been pretty happy lately, although occasionally stressed. But it's a good kind of stress, I think. I'm in a good place.

Keeping in Touch

Later today (as it is now 5:30 in the morning), I will fly to Ho Chi Minh, otherwise known as Sai Gon.  I know when I get on that plane, I will be unsure of how to feel.

Thing is, I spent a last full day with my roommate, Rani, another VIA fellow who will be leaving her post in Jogja at the end of this month.  Since the beginning of the program, we've always bonded in some way. First, it was our mutual affinity towards chaotic markets, which we explored with curiosity in Phnom Penh. Then it was our mutual desire to eat food, and lots of it. In the last few months as roommates, we've further discovered that our taste buds are, in fact, quite similar, which made planning dinner easy for the both of us.  

Every now and then, we also submitted to our western cravings -- (come to think of it, this happened a lot when we were together). We ate plenty of brown bread, treated ourselves to cheese (one of our western vices), used pesto in various dishes, and experimented with tempe.  Together we've also conceptualized a business model for a restaurant that will for sure be a hit back in Seattle and DC!  With both of our appetites combined, we could totally do great things.

Rani (right) and I drinking bandrek (spiced ginger milk) in Berastagi during a week-long trip in north Sumatra (February)

One of the many fusion recipes we discovered together. This one has tempe and green beans.

Perhaps it's this: saying goodbye to Rani will be a tell-tale sign that life moves on.  We're done with our first year, and we'll be going in two different directions, mentally and physically.  And so it also goes for all my other friendships and relationships.  But if there's one thing that Rani personifies to me, it's the importance of keeping in touch with the people you meet along the way. These people, with all their experiences and kindness, will be there to walk with you on your journey. Some may even guide you -- whether it's through simple advice about the next city you want to visit, or simply by inspiring you with their stories.

I do hope to keep in touch with Rani, as well as the many other amazing people I've met during my first year in Indonesia.

A day in the life in Nyangkringan, a village in Bantul

Every now and then an invitation comes along, and choosing to say "yes" can mean that you're in for an experience you'll definitely want to write home about. The other day I chose to say "yes" to a previous student of mine when she invited me over to her house: "Miss, I want to invite you to my house. After hearing my stories about your class, my mother really wants to meet you!"  And oh, by the way, "my mother is a good cook."

How could I say no?

So we went to her house in a village called Nyangkringan, south of Jogja, where I was greeted by a very smiling mother, brother, and a beyond-amazing breakfast. There was pisang rebus (boiled bananas), tempe (tempeh), tahu (tofu), onde-onde (sesame balls), and sayur asem-asem (literally translated to "sour vegetables", it's a tamarind-based soup with some veggies, tofu, and some chili). Of course there was also hot tea and rice.

Breakfast at Shanti's house in Bantul

Shanti (right) with her brother, Yoyo

Although I wasn't hungry when I stepped foot into her house, the sight alone gave me an appetite.  (This happens a lot in Indonesia.) I ate so much food for breakfast, and that was only the beginning of the day.  

After breakfast, we goofed around for a few hours, listening to music and sharing stories. We must've listened to the song "Hello Seattle" by Owl City about twenty times.

Shanti's mother, Bu Wargini, later invited me to join her in going to the pasar (market) to get ingredients for lunch. So Bu Wargini, Shanti, and I walked to the pasar, where Bu Wargini bargained for various things. Back at the house, Bu Wargini then prepared us a wonderful lunch of kuah asem (a tamarind-based soup with fish, which strongly reminded me of sinigang from the Philippines) and pepes ikan pedas (fish wrapped in a banana leaf with sambal). I was still full when I started eating lunch, and was even more full when I finished. But oh I was so happy.

I'm a big fan of eating, but I'm also a big fan of watching the process. So while Bu Wargini was cooking, I sat down on a stool next to her, and we chatted and laughed about many things. It made me really miss my own mother, who is back in Minnesota. She, too, is an extremely talented cook and makes some of the best-tasting Filipino food I've ever had.

1.2. 

3.4.

5.6.

1) Buying ginger at a traditional market, 2) Sautéing garlic and shallot, 

3) Preparing the seasoning for kuah asem, 4) Kuah asem, boiling on top of a kerosene stove

5) Kuah Asem, 6) Pepes Ikan

I also learned a lot about Shanti's cultural heritage. Her mother's family comes from Java, but her father -- who passed away when Shanti was younger -- came from a village near Kupang, the capital of Nusa Tenggara Timur (NTT) province. As we were discussing the family history, Bu Wargini brought out traditional clothes from this village for me to see.

  

Traditional clothes (topi tilangga - hat, kain tenun - fabric, slendang - scarf) from Shanti's father's village in NTT

When evening finally came, I joined Shanti and Yoyo at their gamelan practice.  Having lived in Indonesia for almost a year now, it's impossible to escape the art known as gamelan. In short, gamelan is a musical ensemble that usually performs at rituals, ceremonies, dances, and other events. Shanti and her brother happen to play with a gamelan group that performs at their church once a month. To prepare for their monthly performance, they meet every Tuesday night.  I was lucky enough to be around that day.

The gamelan group (only a few members shown) that Shanti and Yooyoo play with at church in Bantul

And so we played music. I was given a saron (a type of xylophone) to play. The sheet music displays a series of numbers, representing the keys, and you have to hit the corresponding key with a tabuh (mallet), in time to a beat. The left hand is then used to dampen a key when a note needs to stop resonating. I have to admit it was sort of like playing a video game for me.

Sheet music for the saron

Since it was my first time playing this instrument, I had to quickly learn how to read the music, play accordingly (by imitating my neighbor), and watch for group cues whenever the tempo would speed up or slow down. Some songs were definitely harder than others, but I did start to get the hang of it... and it was really fun! 

Break time!  Me, posing with a saron

The group members were all very welcoming, and by the end of the night, I found myself joking and laughing along with them as well.  A group environment like this, admittedly, would have probably overwhelmed me during my first few months in Indonesia -- especially with the occasional use of Javanese, which I have not been studying here and still do not understand.  But these days, I'm much more comfortable interacting and using my Indonesian and English skills to bond with others.

When I said goodbye to Bu Wargini, she urged me to come visit again. I do hope to take her up on that offer, because it was one of the happiest and homiest experiences I've had while living in Jogja. Thank you so much, Shanti, for inviting me to your home! And thank you to your whole family for being such lovely hosts :)

PKBI, lesehan, and sex workers

I met a cool girl at the VIA summer alumni dinner last night. She works with Perkumpulan Keluarga Berencana Indonesia (PKBI), the Indonesian Planned Parenthood, and is part of the Youth Group committee that seeks to engage with disadvantaged youth in Yogyakarta. I learned a lot from her through conversation, particularly about where youth tend to hang out (alun-alun selatan and Magelang) and how youth groups have established their own communities. There are many who are homeless and make money by busking (ngamen). I should mention here that the Indonesian word ngamen, for busking, has a different connotation. While in the US busking usually means staying in one spot and playing instruments/singing, busking here means walking around to different groups of people.  Sometimes the musicians will wander from restaurant to restaurant.  At night, they will walk to different groups that are sitting outside lesehan-style, that is, on the ground, on mats.   Here is an example of lesehan, although this particular establishment in Bukit Bintang (Bintang Hill) is sheltered.

VIA fellows + friend (Zaky) at a warung in Bukit Bintang

We also talked about the sex worker trends in Jogja. Talking with PKBI in the past, I've learned a pretty significant contrast between how prostitution is viewed in Seattle (as well as many parts of the US) and prostitution in Jogja. In Seattle, a lot of the research suggests that many women are not in it by choice per se, but rather are targeted for their vulnerabilities.  Pimps are often involved.  Some women fall madly in love with their pimps, making it even harder to leave the industry.  Here, the research suggests that most sex workers are in it by choice. So rather than try to outlaw and prevent the means of prostitution, PKBI seeks to ensure that sex workers are sexually educated and safe. That's about all I know, though.  I've been meaning to learn more about sex workers in Jogja, and I'm hoping that my next year here will allow me to do that.

Nglanggeran, staying with a Javanese family

Language study has been one of my favorite aspects of living in Indonesia.  During our first two weeks in Jogja, we had some intensive Bahasa Indonesia (Indonesian) classes at one of our partner institutions, Universitas Negeri Yogyakarta (Yogyakarta State University), where I have been teaching English for the past year.  We studied from 9am-2pm, and it was there that I met our tutors for the first time, students who would later become some of my best friends in Jogja.  I continue to meet one of them on a regular basis to practice my conversational Bahasa skills.  

Part of our two weeks of training involved a weekend in Nglanggeran, an area southeast of Jogja in a mountainous region known as Gunung Kidul.  There, we continued our language study through simple cultural immersion.  I stayed with a lovely Javanese family, whose main sources of livelihood include farming, teaching, and a guesthouse in Batam (a small industrial island close to Singapore).   The family fed me plenty, and their little boy even taught me how to sing the Itsy Bitsy Spider in Indonesian.  Sometimes it's the little ones who are the best teachers.

Tempe& tofu at my host family's house in Nglanggeran

Lunch at my host family's house in Nglanggeran

Nglanggeran was a beautiful area.  Now that I've spent ten months in Yogyakarta and have traveled to more places, it can be easy to overlook some of the early experiences.  But this was one place that left a profound impact on me. We played, we laughed, and we looked at beautiful views from high cliffs.  We also danced around a fire and prepared batik masks.  It's the kind of experience that seems so far out of reach when you're working a 9-5 job in America.  And we were doing it within two weeks of living in Indonesia.

A view from Gunung Nglanggeran

Rani, VIA fellow, preparing the wax for a batik handkerchief 

Most of all, I will remember the family.  On my last day, the Ibu (mother of the house) left me a wonderful letter before she went to work, something that made me smile ear-to-ear.  

Letter from my host mother in Nglanggeran, Bu Tuti

In English, the letter says:  

To: Roena

Sorry, I left for school.  If later Roena returns to Jogja, have a good trip and take care!  If Roena has time for a holiday, please feel free to come and play here.  Please enjoy this humble breakfast... pecel.  The last... I'm sorry if, when was Rowena here, we were not able to serve properly.

Goodbye Roena... See you later.
Bu Tuti

Orientation in a Nutshell

I don't know how to summarize the last ten months.  It seems like an enormous feat, and any kind of summary will surely be lacking.  At the very least, I could start by showing some of my favorite photos.

Everything started at Stanford University in Palo Alto, where our pre-departure orientation was held.  There, all the fellows met for the first time, and it was lovely to be surrounded by so much talent and fresh ideas.  To this day I'm grateful to be part of such a multi-talented group of people.  Some are journalists, others are anthropologists, and there is at least one other engineer.  Traveling with them has been eye-opening, not just because of the things we see and do, but also because of the diversity in perspective and disciplines.

The whole trip to the bay area was wonderful for me, especially since I hadn't been there since I was a kid.  In fact, San Francisco was one of the first American cities I visited with my family when we were still living in Australia.  It's such an vibrant city, full of life, character, and some of the most delicious pastries I've ever had.  It's one of those cities you'll never get bored with and is absolutely perfect for people-watching.

Flash Mob in San Francisco

Graffiti in San Francisco

The most interesting part of San Francisco, for me, was witnessing the boom of the tech industry in person.  I stayed with a few friends, all of them involved in computer programming and digital media.  I had the opportunity to visit Twitter, and as I wandered through its colorful office, I couldn't help but compare the company's benefits to all the past jobs I've had.  Compared to Boeing, Twitter was like a breath of fresh, young air.  The food was delicious (although our friend informed us that Facebook recently snatched Twitter's best chef), and for some crazy reason, employees and guests could drink beer in the office!

After VIA training at Stanford, all the Southeast Asia VIA fellows then flew to Phnom Penh, Cambodia, where we spent two weeks with TEFL and NGO training.  Days were spent attending class and studying, while afternoons and evenings were spent exploring the city.  My favorite part of Phnom Penh would probably be the markets.  Smells of various kinds permeated the air, and you could also find some of the best food and coffee in the city.

A woman pouring soup at the Russian Market in Phnom Penh, Cambodia

Owner of a Coffee Stand at the Russian Market 

But a visit to Phnom Penh is also not complete without exposure to its contemporary history.  Between the years 1975-1979, the Khmer Rouge regime murdered over a million people, and although there are over 20,000 mass graves scattered around the country, Choeung Ek is one of the most well-known, allowing visitors to wander through the grounds and remember some of the atrocities that were committed.  One of stories I will never forget involves Khmer Rouge soldiers throwing babies at trees.

I will also never understand the propensity for dictatorial regimes to actively seek and murder some of the brightest minds its country has to offer.

Skulls of victims of the Khmer Rouge at the Choeung Ek Memorial, Killing Fields

And what is a visit to Cambodia without going to the Angkor Wat Archeological Park?  The place is truly beautiful, with some of the more breathtaking temples currently being swallowed whole by the trees.

Michael, fellow VIA vol, admiring tree trunks at Angkor Wat Archeological Park

Sunrise at Angkor Wat

For the Indonesia fellows, Angkor Wat and Siem Reap was our last trip before we finally headed to our new home.

Another Year

I'm going into my second year in Yogyakarta, and despite staying in the same place, another chapter in my life is beginning.  It's a new book I'm writing.  The handwriting is uncertain; there are question marks all over the place.  But while the setting is the same, the characters will be different.

I'm closing the book of Boeing.  I'm closing the book of UNY.  And now here I am opening the book of Yayasan Dian Desa, an appropriate technology NGO where I will work for my second year in Indonesia.

My manager at Boeing emailed today with a closing checklist, and I paced around my house for about fifteen minutes, trying to keep my thoughts into perspective.  What is it that made me get cold feet all of a sudden?  What made me suddenly contact my professional mentors, hoping for some kind of reassurance that I'm not making the biggest mistake of my life?

I suppose there was always something psychologically safe about just one year in Indonesia.  I would come, get my feet wet, learn how to teach at a university.  And I would explore, meet people, try new things, see some of the most wonderful attractions the world has to offer.  But just as I'd be getting comfortable, I'd get back on a plane and go home.  Go home to the same job and salary and familiar routine.

Now that's all changing.   Now a job in Seattle is no longer guaranteed when I finally go back, and I'm saying goodbye to one of the most coveted companies to work for as an engineer.

In its place I'll be working at an NGO that seeks to promote improved cookstove designs for rural Indonesia, in the hopes of alleviating various health problems associated with traditional cookstoves.  My job title and responsibilities are still a little fuzzy to me, but I'm excited to give it my best shot.

Not to mention, there are still so many islands I need to see.