Learning Those Crazy Languages

I started tutoring an aspiring PhD student on the IELTS exam. It's been going pretty well so far, and I think we'll be good friends. Last night we discovered a pronunciation difficulty with his "th" sound, as in "three", which sounds identical to the way he says "tree".  He also has this fascinating tendency to create a fricative "g" sound in the word "great", almost as if he's speaking Dutch.

After reflecting on last night, and in trying to develop the next lesson plan, I realized how excited I get about language and linguistics. Last year, under the instruction of a Chinese exchange student and friend, I learned basic pronunciation for vowels and consonants in Mandarin. No kidding, it was not easy. Can't believe how many times I had to repeat zi, ci, si and zhi, chi, shi before getting them right. And even after my tutor was satisfied, I still couldn't distinguish the subtle differences I'd made with my tongue and mouth! It was strange, and it made me empathize all the more with students who have such a difficult time with English.

As for Bahasa Indonesia, pronunciation is pretty straightforward and arguably easier than mainland SE Asian languages since it doesn't deal with tones. (I'm guessing it also has fewer phonemes, though I need a proper source to confirm this.) On a personal level, I can relate more to Indonesian because it sounds very similar to Tagalog, a language I grew up hearing. This makes sense since both stem from the Austronesian language family.

The main problem I have when trying to speak Indonesian at a confident pace is that I sometimes jumble up my words. When you're dealing with five or more syllables and a funny combination of vowels and consonants, it can get kind of tricky. Here are a few fun examples:

1. dikedepankan = emphasized (passive)
2. mengambinghitamkan = to make someone the scapegoat
3. dipindahtangankan = transferred (passive).
4. memasyarakatkan = to popularize, to promote
5. membudidayakan = to cultivate

In fact, these are all verbs in passive (di-) and active (me-) forms, so if you can break them down and understand the root words, they start making sense and are way easier to say.

In the first word, "ke depan" means "to the front".
In the second word, "kambing" means "goat" and "hitam" means "black". Interesting...
In the third word, "pindah" means "to move (somewhere else)" and "tangan" means "hand".
In the fourth word, "masyarakat" means "community."
In the fifth word,  "budidaya" means "cultivation".

Of course these are rather formal words, and there are informal ways to say the same thing. But it's pretty cool when it all starts to click.

Tofu and Social Entrepreneurs

I am the biggest n00b ever. Earlier tonight I cooked lemongrass chili tofu for my PIA friend, Julianne, and now my fingers are tingling in a very uncomfortable way. Not sure if it's from slicing and touching chili with my bare hands (silly), or if my hands actually got burned by convection above the sizzling tofu. In all honesty, it's probably a combination of both. 

But to the point of this entry... tonight I am inspired :) and I want to tell you why.

There are two people -- one I've met, one I haven't -- both women, both very young, striving for the empowerment of people and the improvement of lives. These two women work and think in a very humble and creative way, and they embody the kind of social and technical entrepreneurship I really admire.

Both stories are related to light.

First, there's Angela, a hard-working and ambitious social entrepreneur -- the co-founder and director of Nusantara Development Initiatives. She's probably the youngest person I've met to have started an NGO. Their biggest project right now, Project Light, is an initiative to train women entrepreneurs in rural Indonesia to sell solar lamps (these nifty things) within their communities. The effort seeks to empower women while also tackling health concerns related to indoor air pollution from kerosene lamps.

Back in August last year, after getting e-introduced through a mutual friend, we met over brunch in Singapore, where I was staying a couple weeks for a VISA run. Angela shared a lot of stories with me about her experiences with NDI, many of which are reflected in this published interview. I won't go through everything here, but I want to share one of her responses that demonstrates her dedication and wisdom, even when she was a freshman in college, to a cause that impacts lives in a positive way.

"It was very difficult [to juggle school and NDI], because it’s only when I finished with schoolwork, at maybe about 12 AM, that I can focus more on NDI. The good thing is that we do things by email, so I’d do that until about 3 to 4 AM in the morning. It was very intensive. We make sure that this is a serious project, and not a “fun” project where we just touch and go. When what you do impacts people’s lives, it’s something serious. We have to carefully think through our ideas, bounce them to experts.

At the same time there’s opportunity cost. When you spend more time doing something else and less on schoolwork, of course your GPA drops. But that’s something that I’m willing to take, because I feel I learned a lot more doing NDI. It’s a lot more meaningful for me."

The second inspiring story: Teen Invents Flashlight That Could Change the World. Spoiler: it works on body heat. Inspiration behind the project?

Two years ago, Ann, who is half-Filipino, was corresponding with a friend of hers in the Philippines who didn’t have electricity. According to Ann, her friend couldn’t complete her homework and was failing in school. 

“That was the inspiration for my project.” said Ann, “I just wanted to help my friend in the Philippines and my flashlight was a possible solution.” 

Ann got to work. She remembered hearing human beings described as walking 100-volt light bulbs: “I thought, why not body heat? We have so much heat radiating out of us and it’s being wasted.” 

Aku Rapopo

Aku rapopo.  My favorite Javanese expression.

This website describes it well. Translated: "Aku rapopo is an Indonesian meme derived from the Javanese language. It means, 'No worries' or 'I'm fine.'  Aku rapopo is used to express one's reaction when s/he tries to be strong despite experiencing disaster or the bitter reality of life."

In other words, it describes the reaction of being totally chill in situations that can be stressful or annoying. It also tends to bring out the humor in an unfortunate situation.

Here's one of my favorite examples:

As you can see, somebody has clearly sunk into a pile of quicksand, but so what? "Aku rapopo," he expresses, as he flashes the camera a double thumbs-up.

I love it. It's an attitude I'm encouraged to embrace here, and it never fails to make me laugh.

Just today I came into work, rather upset, having received a condescending email from one of our partners.  I ranted about this to my co-worker, Indar, who sympathized and then said, encouragingly, "Aku rapopo!" We laughed for a while, and I immediately felt better.

Religious Pluralism in Indonesia

Kak Lidya recently gave me a collection of articles written by Indonesian scholars on the topic of religious pluralism within Indonesia. It's something that I can't help but think about here, so I thought I would try to gain a broader perspective. Not including the Philippines, where I was born and have strong cultural ties, Indonesia might be the most religious country I've ever lived in, in that religious ideology is officially embedded into the state philosophy of Pancasila.

It's interesting, the role and impact that Pancasila has had, historically, in terms of shaping the Indonesian identity. On the surface, this notion of "belief in one God", grouped with other values like humanism, unity, democracy, and social justice, seems to brilliantly serve this population of diverse people. In my every-day life I see peaceful co-existence among people of different faiths, as well as a sense of national pride in the diversity of Indonesian people. I saw this in my students when I was teaching at UNY, and I see this among my friendships.

But I've also become aware of the shortcomings of the system, considering the moments in which the government has failed to act in a fair and just way, especially when dealing with outbreaks of violence and discrimination towards minority groups, such as the Ahmadiyya sect and non-religious people. These groups are not officially recognized by the government as valid religions/philosophies**, and I think there's still a long way to go before minorities truly feel protected. Not only that, but religious tension exists in certain parts of the country, highlighting the limits of Indonesia's pluralistic philosophy.

Even with all these challenges, I am amazed at the ways in which people at the grassroots level have bridged differences in an effort to promote interfaith dialogue. My house is just one small example. Kak Lidya is an ordained minister of a Protestant church and is quite devoted to her faith, but she does a great job maintaining friendships and exchanging dialogue with people from other religious groups. Our house has hosted friends from different religious traditions, including a Catholic priest and a Muslim scholar, and every time these visitors come, we share good food and conversation.

Just the other day I met a PhD candidate, Mas Steve, a Christian, who is planning to conduct research on his home island of Ambon, the site of violent conflict among Christian and Muslim communities between the years 1999-2002, and more recently in 2011. Using the anthropological approach of participant observation, Mas Steve plans to live among a Muslim community to study their lifestyle, rituals, and Islamic beliefs, which are contextualized to the local situation and thus different from other parts of Indonesia. He hopes his research will be useful for peace-building efforts, especially for increasing understanding among Christian communities.

I've really enjoyed speaking with these different leaders, and it's inspiring to witness them all interact in a positive way, working towards a common goal of religious tolerance and social justice. I hope to post more about this in the future.


(**The Ministry of Religious Affairs officially recognizes and provides funding to six religious groups in Indonesia: Islam, Christianity, Catholicism, Buddhism, Hinduism, and Confucianism.)

Lemongrass Chili Chicken (Gà kho sả ớt / Gà xào sả ớt)

"Every food lover has at least one true cookbook within -- a culinary diary from the heart. 

Food is about being in the present. It's also about remembering all that is worth remembering. For me, it's like walking down the street and catching a whiff of perfume that a past lover wore, or hearing an old song that encapsulated a whole period of life. It's that thing that makes me a little dizzy."  

(A Culinary Odyssey, Andrew X. Pham)

In the style of Mr. Pham, whose cookbook memoir has lately inspired me, I'd like to share a favorite Vietnamese dish I've encountered while living abroad. It's one that, when cooking in the future, I'm sure will take me straight back to this humble household in Yogyakarta, Indonesia. My roommate Ly cooks this about once a week, and I can't even tell you how happy it makes me each time.

This recipe was prepared by her, upon special request by yours truly.

Gà kho sả ớt / Gà xào sả ớt 

Some know this dish as gà kho sả ớt, while others call it gà xào sả ớt: lemongrass chili chicken. Savory and spicy, this dish bounces around in your mouth in a way that wakes up your palate. For those who like it hot, it's that flavorful kind of spicy that pleases every taste bud on your tongue. A type of spicy that's complemented by all the other ingredients.

Aside from being outrageously delicious, I like this dish because of how versatile it is. The first time Ly made it, she used chicken feet, but since then, she has also prepared it with chicken wings, eel (ếch), and fish (cá). Each type of meat changes the texture and flavor, but somehow the sauce goes well with each. I've enjoyed each version that she's made.

I should add a few disclaimers, though: The original recipe did not include quantities for each ingredient. I had to ask Ly to provide me with reasonable estimates for the sake of having someplace to start. Of course, she insisted (like many talented cooks will do) that quantity and proportions are largely based on feeling.

Also, take the photos with a grain of salt. They don't match the ingredients list, exactly. For example, the photo in Step 1 shows only a few speckles of diced chili. That's because for this photo shoot batch of gà kho sả ớt, we were cooking for friends who can't handle spicy food, and thus we went easy on the chili (... it's not as good, in my opinion -- don't hold back on the heat!) Also, I'm pretty sure our chicken exceeded 400g. 

Ingredients

- 400g chicken, or any kind of meat
- 1 tbsp cooking oil
- 3 small lemongrass stalks (white part only), finely diced
- 3 small chilis, finely diced
- 4 big cloves garlic, finely diced
- 3 tsp sugar
- 1/3 tsp MSG (can substitute with vegetable seasoning)
- 1 tsp vegetable seasoning
- 3 tbsp fish sauce
- Water

Instructions 

1. Chop lemongrass, garlic and chili into small pieces. Mix them together.

2. Heat cooking oil in a small wok, with a tsp of sugar.

3. When the sugar melts and has become a dark yellow/brown, pour meat in and stir well. Turn heat down to low. 

4. Add chili, garlic, lemongrass, remaining sugar, MSG, and seasoning. Stir well.

5. Add fish sauce, wait for the mixture to boil for a while. Then add water (just enough to cover the surface) 

6. Keep fire on low and simmer until water evaporates and sauce becomes thick. 

7. Stir well until it smells good. 

8. Turn off fire and serve. 

Enjoy!  For the super visual learners, here's another version of the same dish, with an accompanying video. Luke Nguyen uses young coconut juice, instead of water, which probably takes the dish to a whole new level.

Mount Kelud Eruption and Mother Nature

So here I am, in south central Java, nose and mouth covered by a makeshift mask I made from a damp, black cardigan. The bottom of my feet are dusty and gray from collecting volcanic ash around the house. No matter how many times we sweep, the ash keeps stacking up.

They call it hujan abu, or "ash rain". At moments you can feel the air around you get a little thicker, your mouth a little dryer, and when you reach for your phone that's been sitting on the table for the past fifteen minutes, your fingers slide over a fine layer of dust that has accumulated on the screen.

We're patiently waiting for Mother Nature to remember that it is, in fact, still rainy season. And we desperately need some rain. With dry ash floating around the city, and without a proper dust mask, I haven't been too eager go outside. Luckily, electricity and Internet haven't been affected too much (though I can't say the same about water supply), and I've been able to keep in touch with everyone.

Here's a good report of the current situation (my friend Ardi is featured!), and doing an image search of "yogyakarta ash kelud" (link for the lazy) will give you a good idea of what it looks like in the city. Here's a picture I took of the path outside my house, which you can compare to one taken about a week ago.

Path outside of my house before (left) and after (right) the Mount Kelud eruption.

Mount Kelud's eruption yesterday took place three weeks after another natural phenomenon shook Java: an earthquake.

I was laying in bed at the time, reading Divergent, when my bed started to shake. I glanced up and saw a motorbike pass by the living room window. Strange, I thought. That motorbike has a really strong engine. But of course, the motorbike passed a good distance, and my bed continued shaking. That's when I realized what was happening, and the horrible feeling sunk to the pit of my stomach.

I quickly rummaged around my room for clothes to cover myself up, and then I ran to the front door -- paused -- ran back to my room, and grabbed my phone before going outside. I stood on my patio for a while talking with neighbors. That's when I learned the word gempa (earthquake) for the first time.

It's funny, digital media and what it does to me. Although I clearly felt my bed shake, and my neighbors agreed that it was an earthquake, I still felt the need to have my experience validated by others online. Part of me was in denial.

I went to Facebook first for information, and within ten minutes, I was already tracking down reports about the earthquake's strength and scope since everybody was writing about it. People who were less enthused made eye-rolling comments, suggesting it was silly how everyone was posting about the same thing, at the same time.

But how can you not?! It was an earthquake! I teetered between feeling horrified and feeling that it was a "neat" experience. Of course the latter is silly and selfish, especially since people are still traumatized over the earthquakes of 2006. I'm just glad there were no casualties this time.

...Anyway. Not to make anyone worry. I really am doing fine. Just hoping for rain.

Someone's in the Kitchen with Dinah

Things I should mention because it's all part of the experience:

Every day I get into work between 9 and 10am. Because of this wonderful start time (contrast it to the 6am zombie-march to the Boeing factory), I somehow feel justified in staying up way past midnight, watching youtube videos or reading articles online, maybe try to learn something if I'm going to be up this late fighting off sleep. Sometimes I'll research farmers markets and NGOs in cities I don't even live in, while other times it's all about celebrity interviews and music. During moments of pure academic discipline, you might catch me watching a Coursera lecture. Earlier this evening I watched a couple of lectures on Scandinavian film industry.

And now, at 1:20am, I'm browsing r/cheese and thinking about Dinah's, a sexy camembert-ey wheel of goodness made by Kurtwood Farms on Vashon Island in the Puget Sound. The longer I stay out here, the more I miss and appreciate artisan cheese as an art form. And I really, really miss tasting the result of such delicious artistic expression. It's inspiring in the same way that craft beer is inspiring, and my western heart and taste buds melt completely at this kind of stuff. What I wouldn't give to turn these images into a reality in front of me:

Dinah's cheese - photo borrowed from Kurtwood Farms

Cheese Platter - photo borrowed from ilikethebest212

Why do I torment myself with this right before sleep?

Moments of Upset, Road Rage, and Traffic

As an American living in a foreign country, sometimes I get this enormous urge to rant. Perhaps something bad has happened to me, or I've witnessed something horrible -- a messy experience in traffic, an upsetting interaction at work, sexual violence or discrimination. It has to be something so frustrating that my blood will boil, and I'll want go straight to my fellow expats who might be able to empathize, and I'll want to tell them all about it.

For smaller problems, I try not to rant too often, mostly because I'm afraid to make it a habit. It's easy to fall into a certain trap of ethnocentrism (as if we don't have our own issues to deal with back in America). The truth is, I've heard of expats out there who will meet with other expats, and dinner gatherings will involve complaining about the people they interact with on a daily basis. What started out as a therapeutic exercise to get something off their chests has turned into a gathering of hatred... and weren't we, instead, supposed to become more open-minded when we decided to go abroad?

When trying to come up with explanations for any tough situation, the challenge comes in trying to think about what just happened from a more wide-angle lens. It's not easy, because it seems natural to cross-reference our current experiences with what we're familiar with back home. It takes a certain amount of education, wisdom, and compassion to realize that sometimes our "advice" might not be entirely relevant because of such vastly different social, economic, and cultural circumstances. That's not to say we need to accept the upsetting thing that happened, but the question is more so, how do you deal with it appropriately?

It's during these challenging moments that I then turn to some of my local friends -- people who are arguably more equipped to analyze the situation, since they are more familiar with the local context.

The discussion is usually fruitful. Sometimes I'll learn that although I'm frustrated, my frustration is not a unique and entitled expat frustration. In fact, there are locals who are also frustrated by the same thing, and certain NGOs and groups exist to try and combat those very problems.

Traffic laws and road customs, for example, are not some kind of static, never-changing ideas. When you hear people tell stories about traffic in Southeast Asia, you might hear them talk about how limited rules (or "no rules") is the way of the land, and that if you want to live there, you have to learn how to drive like everyone else. Usually that means buying a motorbike and quickly adapting to the flow of traffic. I was once riding with a group of expats and Indonesians, and as we approached a red light at a major intersection, they decided to stop their vehicles in the on-coming traffic lane, knowing that no vehicles would come. One of them joked that everyone was riding "Indonesian style."

But do you ever hear about local groups that are trying to change how things work? Local groups that are trying to fight for bike lanes, pedestrian rights, and tougher enforcement of traffic laws? Groups that are trying to expand and improve public transportation? They exist, and they're there, even though they seem invisible among the roar of traffic.

I'm writing about this now because I got in a really weird, upsetting, and awkward accident yesterday on Maliboro. A becak (pedicab) rammed into my back wheel of my bicycle, and I almost fell off. We weren't going very fast because there were pedestrians scattered around us, but it was a noticeable impact for sure. When I turned around, the passengers -- two Ibu (middle-aged women) -- were laughing! The tukang becak (pedicab driver) was smirking. None seemed apologetic. It was one of those blood-boiling moments that left me feeling very confused about how to respond. I shot them all a mean, dirty look before moving on.

This is going to take me a while to mull over and come to terms with. I'm going to be thinking about how crowded that street was; could I have been riding differently? I'm going to think about the pedestrians I was avoiding on the road; I'm glad none of them were hurt. I'm going to be thinking about the laugher, and how laughter and smiles can mean something different here.

And should I have just ignored them or laughed it off, instead of getting upset? My co-worker once told me, "If someone gets upset, it means they're not from Jogja." We had just witnessed a motorbike driver get super angry when his rear wheel got bumped by a car that had been creeping forward at a stop light. The motorbike driver slammed his hands into the hood of the car to express his discontent. Apparently this action was very un-Jogjanese, which my co-worker confirmed by his license plate. I couldn't help but empathize with the motorbike guy, but my co-worker seemed to think differently, as if the biker's actions were not justified.

What it boils down to it, I think, is this: cities like Jogja are the kind that attract people from all over the country, as well as internationally. With over one hundred institutions of higher education, that's not exactly something you're trying to avoid. And if that's the case, we need to learn how to bring different kinds of ideas together to challenge some of these very real problems. If a newcomer gets upset, maybe there's a good reason for it. In terms of traffic, there needs to be a strategy in dealing with the vehicles that have increased in number throughout the last decade, the increased pollution and congestion on the road. It's definitely not an easy feat. The traffic all over SE Asia is changing, so how do we plan for positive solutions? It's a challenge that locals and newcomers are going to have to work on together.

A Saturday Before Work

Mornings are always filled with the same sounds. At about 4am the rooster starts crowing. I've learned to tune him out while I continue sleeping, and he blends in with the morning prayer. In addition to the rooster, our neighbors have a hen and four chicks. Before a month ago, these birds barely existed. Now they're the first things I look for when I leave my house.

Then there's Molly, a fluffy brown dog that's growing up too fast in her cage. During moments of heavy rain, you hear her whining, and your heart breaks a little each time. Kak Lidya decided to voice concern to our neighbors, so they recently added a canvas to cover up the exposed side of the cage. Molly gets taken out from time to time, and when she does, she goes absolutely insane, sprinting in every direction, jumping all over me. In the morning, like now, she barks sporadically. I've been thinking about dogs lately, and how nice it would be to have one. I'm not sure when I would be ready for the commitment.

Somewhere in the main kampung street, there are birds chirping happily. I listen to them until they stop, abruptly, as if they've moved on to the next neighborhood. Occasionally a motorbike revs up its engine: someone going to work or out to run an errand. And even further out, past the kampung, there's a dull roar from the main road of Monjali. Jogja wakes up early. A baby cries.

Path outside my house

Rifka stands off to the side, shooting me a stern look, and I love her for it. I know, I know. I need to mandi and get ready for work. It's one of those rare Saturdays when YDD has an international visitor, and I've been asked to come in.  This time, we have a management expert visiting from GERES, an NGO partner of ours based in Cambodia. Today we're going to discuss quotations for equipment we need to purchase for the lab -- a task I've been asked to manage. My role is somewhat important...

Our Potential for Greatness

I stumbled across an article today titled "The Asian-American Quarter Life Crisis" that really resonated with me. It's a piece that I think every Asian-American parent & child should read, as well as anyone who may be struggling with their career due to societal pressure. Here are a few passages:

Working a job that you don’t like isn’t unique to Asian Americans, obviously — it’s a problem so common that complaining about it is cliche.  But I think this issue is especially pervasive in Asian American communities.  For one, Asian cultures tend to be risk-averse, to value knowing your place and not rocking the boat.  On top of that, our parents came to this country for the sake of financial security and stability, and they inculcated us with the same values.  Most of us have been raised to think about our futures for as long as we can remember.  It starts with math workbooks.  Gifted summer camps.  Endless SAT prep.  All for the sake of fabulous college applications, which lead us to the best universities.  The best internships.  The best (read: most lucrative, most prestigious, most stable) careers, which usually fall somewhere in the vicinity of medicine, law, engineering, and (corporate) business. 

In midst of all this striving for the best, there’s little to no attention paid to what we might actually enjoy.  That would be indulgent, if not completely unheard of.  There’s little concern in Asian cultures for personal strengths and weaknesses; there’s no such thing as someone who’s “not a math person” or “not an science person,” because excellence in any area can be attained through hard work.  There’s nothing that can’t be achieved through more repetitions or more discipline. 

...

The result of all of this: a generation of Asian Americans who are excellent at achieving but have no idea what they want to do.  (Or, if they do know, are reluctant to pursue it because it isn’t as stable or well-paid as their current jobs.)  A generation that is incredibly successful but, professionally speaking, not terribly happy.

...

I can’t help but wonder what kind of creative, innovative projects and careers Asian Americans would tackle if they weren’t confined — psychologically, financially, or culturally — to jobs they didn’t enjoy.  And how much happier and more fulfilled they might be as a result. 

I've been thinking about this issue lately. What kind of amazing things can we, as individuals, pursue if we didn't have anyone to answer to? If we decided to take more risks? If family members and friends supported one another to pursue aspirations, even if it means going against cultural norms and expectations?

I made a new friend the other day, a Chinese-American, who recently graduated with a degree in Environmental Science and Public Policy. This girl has a way of talking, of inviting you to listen. She's got a smile that makes you certain she has a million friends... yet you still want to be friend number 1,000,001.

We talked for a long time at a coffeeshop, and as we sat there on a saggy couch, sipping our too-sweet coffee shakes, she confessed what she really wants to do: I want to spend time on the island of Kalimantan, tackling deforestation problems with local NGOs. 

Please believe me when I say, these dreams are within her reach. Contrary to the notion that dreams are up in the clouds, hers are there in front of her, as many of our dreams actually are. She's come this far, and she's going to grab it. She knows what she wants to do, and she knows how to network. She already knows a few people who could help set her up.

She's also very humble.

In a fit of curiosity, and as I am wont to do among other Asian-Americans I find in SE Asia, I started interrogating her about how her family felt about her being in Indonesia. She answered almost immediately that her parents didn't support her decision, that her parents would rather have her working a more stable and lucrative job.  That she had to defy her family's desires so she could pursue her own.

I wasn't surprised, but it made me sad -- not just for her, but for her family too. We all want our parents to be happy, and it's unfortunate when choosing to take care of ourselves, emotionally and professionally, results in their disappointment.

So is she self-centered?  Is she ungrateful?  How can she be, when all she wants to do is preserve the environment we call Earth?  She's leaving her mark in a way that she does best, in a field that she feels passionately about. Maybe she'll help save some trees along the way, and if she does, I will applaud her efforts.  More rainforest in Kalimantan means more biodiversity, and not to mention, happy orangutans.

I made sure to tell her that I thought she was doing the right thing.

In my experience, it's always nice to hear that.

Blogging and Social Media

My good friend and part-time roommate Rifka recently linked me to this job description, which seems like an absolute perfect job when you look at it from a purely professional standpoint. Imagine - being able to turn your silly blogging habit into a five-figure salary, where you can work from anywhere, get a free Macbook Air, read as many Kindle books as you want, and have a very loose vacation policy.

It's totally the kind of white collar job we all dream about, and when I see a five-figure salary like that these days, after living two years without one, I can't help but goggle.

More importantly, though, it got me thinking about the power of social media in SE Asia, and how blogs, twitter, and fb groups are actually REALLY critical tools, especially for development organizations. It's a great way to keep the rest of the world knowledgeable about current projects, while adding some visual legitimacy and documentation that's there for the world to see. My contribution's to YDD's social media has mostly been through photography. A couple photos I've taken in the field (that I'm actually quite proud of) have even made it to our Alliance website. Here's one.

Two YDD employees meet with a Bapak from Kulon Progo to demonstrate how lighting cones work to increase ignition time while reducing start-up emissions.

It also got me thinking that while I'm here, I really want to find ways to improve my blogging habits. So I did some quick googling to find out how, exactly, I might go about that. Some typical pieces of advice boil down to the following: write shorter entries, write often, and establish a voice. Maybe I ought to practice these things, if not for readers, then at least for the sake of developing my social media skills, which I can hopefully put into positive practice as I continue on in my career.

Lunar New Year in Yogyakarta

The weekend wanted to slip by unnoticed. It snuck up on me on Thursday when my co-workers casually mentioned that Friday was a hari libur. I perked up at the mention of a day off, a bad habit that's been instilled since I was a kid. I thought of all the things I could do -- all the sleep and the reading and the coffees to be had. Maybe I can wake up at 6am and go on a bike ride... but do I really want to? 

Of course, ideas of a purely self-centered day flew out the window when I realized the case for the holiday: Lunar Near Year, celebrated by both Chinese and Vietnamese alike. How could I have forgotten? Living in Asia, forgetting Chinese New Year might be akin to living under a rock.

To be fair, the Chinese New Year celebrations in Jogja tend to be a little more downplayed compared to other countries in the region. The visual reminders aren't as obvious as, say, in Vietnam (where it's known as Tết) or Singapore. My Chinese boss even told me that she herself doesn't identify with the occasion, at least not to the same extent as Christmas. There were two years in a row when she had to work in Flores, an island east of Java, and didn't even notice when Chinese New Year slipped by.

My weekend started off with the delightful smells of lemongrass, garlic, and fish sauce. Ly, my roommate from Vietnam, started cooking early in the morning, preparing to host a lunch party with friends, to which I was happily invited. When I passed the kitchen in a half-sleepy daze, the room was already filled with a lovely fragrance. I promised not to eat anything until the party started.

The result was a delicious and colorful assortment of egg and crab soup, garlic fried chicken, and beef tomato stew, all prepared with a balance of flavors, while of course maintaining the staple of fish sauce. I've been quite fascinated lately (read: obsessed) with Andrew X Pham, a Vietnamese-American writer/food-enthusiast, and in a cookbook he wrote titled A Culinary Odyssey, he describes fish sauce as being "the soul of Vietnamese cooking."

Food for Tết

The food was luar biasa (extraordinary!), but honestly what also made this one of the coolest parties I've attended in Jogja was the spontaneous singing and dancing that followed the meal. My other roommate, Kak Lidya, has a talent for knowing how to play and sing traditional songs from many islands in Indonesia, so she played the tunes on guitar while everyone sang (or tried to sing) along. It was like having a musical tour of Indonesia, all in the comfort of our house.

I was especially happy when Kak Lidya taught us how to dance the poco-poco, dero', and manortor, three traditional dances from her home island of Sulawesi. I caught on very quickly to poco-poco, since it's identical to a dance I once learned in the Philippines when I was a kid. I'm not the only one who knows about this, either. It's neat to finally know the origin of this dance!

This dance, known as "Tortor", comes from north Sumatra. According to my friend Rifka, who comes from the region, giving and receiving money in this way symbolizes the respect and love among Bataknese people.

Honestly when I started this entry I wanted to write in detail about the entire weekend, but I'll stop here to keep it short. Suffice it to say it was a good one, involving live reggae music, massages, long walks, bike rides, good food and good company. It was a pretty good example of how in-tune I've become to my casual lifestyle here, and I really could be happy doing the same thing weekend after weekend. But with the calendar crossing off days until I return to the US, I may need to be more diligent about ticking off all the other items on my bucket list: all the eco-villages I need to visit, all the farms I need to volunteer at, all the educational programs I want to help with, all the mountains I need to climb, all the beaches I need to sleep on, all the neighboring cities I need to bike to. Gonna shoot for it all, I guess, and if I don't get them all ticked off the list -- hey, at least I've had the chance to live in Indonesia.

Photo on left: Me, with my roommates. Photo on right: With roommates and friends.