Padang

I returned from Padang a few days ago, to the shocking realization that Jakarta feels like (3^rd or 4^th) home to me at the moment. Padang is, well, different. It’s right on the beach and surrounded by mountains, but most of all, people just aren’t Javanese.

Javanese (and Sundanese, the people of West Java) are extremely polite, with intricate rules as to what people will say to each other. “No”, for example, is not acceptable, under any circumstances (including when you’re asking a taxi driver if he knows how to get somewhere, and he has no clue.) “Kurang tahu” (literally: “less then know”) is about as close as people will get, and even that’s a challenge.

Minangkabau – the people of West Sumatra, where Padang is – don’t share these kinds of norms. For example, when people stare at you while you’re eating in Java (the common state of things), or laugh at you as you walk by, they usually feel mildly embarrassed if you stare back for a moment. Minangkabau don’t have this problem. They’ll just keep on staring and laughing.

This must be the cure for all those 13 year olds who want to be… whichever celebrity 13 year olds want to be. A couple of months of being the center of attention, constantly, should do the trick. A friend in Padang – a linguist from Australia on fieldwork for a master’s thesis – was at a traditional wedding in the mountains a week ago. Two kids saw her and started crying. “Made me feel wonderful”, she said.

The truth is, though, Indonesians in general are just very social people and there's actually something refreshing about Minang directness. Part of the problem is just my weird notion of “privacy”. It just doesn’t belong in a place so densely populated. And so all the “leave me alone” cues from the West – e.g. pausing while your host hovers over you to inspect how your dining is progressing – don’t work.

But the people I actually got to know in Padang - especially the staff at the linguistic lab I'm working out of - were great. Minangkabau architecture is beautiful too, the famous Padang food deserves its reputation and having the ocean front in the middle of the city isn't too bad either.
Next time I'll be exploring the mountains as well.

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My first morning in Padang there was a 5.3 earthquake not too far away.
Slept through it, of course. I love my earplugs.

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Great minds think alike:
Shlomo Benizri blames gays for earthquakes, emulating Abu Bakar Bashir.

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This must be what my Indonesian sounds like:
“In regards of communities concern of flexiblity data communication technology, pushed us to create the new product with WiFi base; called HotSpot.”
- The English introduction, when connecting at a “HotSpot”

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From the mouth of a river at the edge of town:

Marcus

1. Yogya

“Ah… born in Jerusalem?”
This was, more or less, the first thing we heard upon arrival in Indonesia, when I was 11 and the Soeharto-era immigration officer looked through our passports.

A couple of weeks ago I heard it again, this time accompanied by a big smile from a dean at an Islamic university. I was touring a few departments soliciting permission and assistance in recruiting their students for my study. Recommended response: make a reference to the Arabic origin of a word, comment on a similar Arabic word, and in general give a vague, equivocal, deniable impression that you speak Arabic.

Not that there’s anything wrong with it… I actually have no problems here with my place of birth. I’m not the only one (a friend here grew up on Cremieux street) and besides, Americans like me are born in many places (Silver Spring, Vineyard Spring). “Islamic” can also mean many things. And yet, when my next stop turned out to be the Faculty of Islamic Religious Studies, on a Friday, there was that moment of: “Right….”

Turned out completely fine, of course.

Yogyakarta was a long string of these meetings, explanations, interviews with potential assistants, etc. It was also an opportunity to revisit places and people after two years. Some have unfortunately moved on, of course, but it was good to be back. Yogya (pronounced “Jogja”) is the university city of Indonesia, full of young students and academics and is also a center of Javanese tradition.

2. Borobudur

Yogya is also close to Borobudur, a beautiful giant stupa from the Buddhist period, around 800 CE, which I had shamefully not visited before:

3. Jakarta

The rainy season has really arrived. The Jakarta airport was shut a few times last week, and the road to the airport was shut for much longer. When we finally landed at night, I embarked on a two hour ride into the city through West Javanese countryside. I doesn’t help either that my neighborhood name, “Bendungan Hilir" (“Benhil”), literally means “Dam of the River-Mouth” (or something to that effect).

Tip: don’t watch the Lost pilot episode just before flying in Indonesia.

4. Washington

But only in Jakarta can you actually vote in the U.S. primary. The Democratic Party now has a “Democrats Abroad” section, with delegates and all…

5. Arkansas

Slightly out of context, but still scary:
"I didn't major in math," Huckabee told a cheering crowd at the Conservative Political Action Conference meeting in Washington, D.C. "I majored in miracles."

- Huckabee disputing the inevitability of a McCain candidacy

6. Beijing

As ironic as it is, Chinese New Year is a biggish deal in Jakarta (among all the other new years). A partly-Tionghua (ethnic Chinese) friend noted bitterly that until the democratic period, it was illegal to even celebrate it. Now everyone seems to join the party.

Happy Year of the Rat!

7. Padang.

That’s where I’m headed tomorrow.