Indonesia is like nowhere I have ever been before. Ever since arriving, I have been experiencing a constant stream of new, sensory impressions. In Bali, which is mostly Hindu, there were fascinating ritualistic traditions to observe, vibrant colors of shiny, bright fabrics that flashed out from the shop windows, and delicate, lovely flower offerings that littered the streets. In the evenings, although I loved it, it was almost hard to sleep from the loud sounds of cicadas, crickets and frogs all humming their nighttime melodies. In West Java there was the constant buzz of hundreds of motorbikes, incessant crowing of roosters, mixed with mega-phoned Muslim prayer that began at 4:00 in the morning and continued 5 times throughout the day.
It’s funny. Back in Costa Rica I wrote about wanting to be someplace that didn’t bend over backwards to make you feel like you do when you are at home, but now that I am somewhere that feels so radically different from what I am used to, I am so grateful for those things. For one, God Bless Western toilets! Especially when your stomach is reeling from the super tasty, but potentially risky, food choices here. I admit, a bit ashamedly, that I even felt nostalgia when walking by a Starbucks. I didn’t go in, but I felt my heart do little jumps at the sight of it – just because of its familiarity.
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I really didn’t know anything about Indonesia before coming here. I didn’t realize, for example, that it is the 4th most populated country in the world, with nearly 240 million people living here, nor did I know that it is mostly Muslim. This is my first time in a Muslim country, and since I was naïve to this fact before coming here, I wasn’t really appropriately prepared.
It’s hard packing for a 6-month trip, especially when you are not entirely sure of where exactly you will find yourself. It’s hard to have the right clothes for all the climates and occasions that I find myself in. For example, I have a lot of clothes for hot and humid weather, but really only one outfit for cooler weather. That means that in almost all of New Zealand and half of Australia I was wearing the same, tired outfit daily. Now that I am in a hot and humid climate though, I still find that I have nothing to wear. I have clothes that are suitable for the weather, but I do not have clothes that are suitable for this kind of weather in a Muslim country.
I don’t think that I have ever felt quite so self-conscious about the clothes that I have on (or in this case perhaps, the clothes that I do not have on), as I do here, and my clothes are not extreme by any means. Thank goodness the shorts that I have are long. Even though they go past my knees, I still feel scandalous in comparison to the women who live here. I have on T-shirts that cover my shoulders, but I find myself worrying because they are form fitting, instead of loose, and as a result, I often put on my, way-too-hot-for-nearly-100-degree-weather, fleece zippie.
Many of the women here are virtually covered from head to toe. They wear long, loose pants, loose-fitting long shirts, as well as scarves that cover their head and neck. Even when Dennis and I went to the beach we didn’t see a single person in a swimsuit, not even those who were swimming in the ocean. I certainly understand and respect modesty, but I worry about the potential message of my own clothes in a place where “modesty” is defined so differently from what I am used to. It makes me wonder.... women who argue about why they like to wear a headscarf say that it protects them from unwanted attention, that they want to be seen for their minds, and not their bodies. In doing so though, I wonder if it then creates an assumption that women who do not wear a headscarf, want that kind of attention. And if so, does it then create an assumption that it is somehow the woman’s responsibility to protect herself in this way, and that if she doesn’t, she is somehow fair game?
This was something that I was contemplating over breakfast yesterday morning at the hotel that I am staying at. To my surprise, I was the only fair-skinned blonde in the room, and in fact, I was the only Westerner in the room. (To be fair, I later realized that this was because I was up at 6:00, and eating breakfast when all the business guests were up and getting ready to go out for work. Today, when I went to breakfast at around 8:00, there were more Western tourists.) I was the only woman eating alone in the room, and I was also the only woman not wearing a scarf around my head. From what I could tell, I was also the only woman approached by a fellow hotel guest, an Indonesian man, and asked, “Ah, so where are you from? Oh, USA? I’m in room 308, what hotel room are you staying in?” Hmmm… Shaking my head no, he politely left me alone. Maybe he was just trying to make some friendly conversation with someone who was obviously an outsider, or perhaps it was an invitation for something else, but in either case, it was definitely attention that I wasn’t that interested in.
I have reached the point on this trip where I am finally feeling homesick. It might be because I know that the trip is coming to an end soon, and that I will likely be back in California in less than a month’s time, but I can almost taste the things of home.
Oh San Francisco! How I look forward to being with you again. ☺
Today I fly to Ho Chi Minh City to meet up with Dennis. I was supposed to be there Sunday, but I screwed up on applying for the visa in time, so I got stuck waiting here in Jakarta for a few days.
p.s. I plan to post something about Australia soon too. I loved that country the most, and for some reason have struggled to write about it, but I do really want to share some things, so I hope to get something up about it in the next week.
