In my last stay in Padang. I had just begun the experiments and was mostly just trying to keep procedures methodologically-legit amid what felt like minor logistical chaos. Luckily, a couple of friends from Jakarta showed up on a Saturday, rented a car, and suggested I take a night off and join them in going up to the mountains to see lake Maninjau.
Rationalizing the time off was easy: West Sumatra has played a very central role in Indonesian national history. Despite having only about 3% of the population, the Minangkabau produced the first vice president (Hatta,) the first women jailed by the Dutch for nationalist activity, the first prime minister, and the leader of the main Muslim party of the early republic. The region was also the center of a large Islamic revolt against the Jakarta government, the failure of which marked the downfall of that party. So really, touring the region was purely a research experience.
But back to my day off… I learned four important things on that trip:
First, don’t be polite to a phone stalker unless you want a new best friend. Most bules (“boo-leh”, gringo) will sooner or later have a stalker in Indonesia, though this is mostly due to our very different definitions of “stalking” or “privacy” (such as having such concepts in the first place.) Indonesians really are much nicer and friendlier than “Westerners” - it’s a fact – and so to most Indonesians it does not seem like an invasion of privacy at all. So, there will usually be some random person who decides they want to get to know the new bule in town, somehow manage to get hold of said bule’s phone number and find it friendly and welcoming to text message or call dozens of times with impassioned pleas for a meeting. When you think of it, in a way, they’re right.
Second, realize as quickly as possible that item one is in no way a compliment (yes, I realize women figure this one out in the West at a much younger age.) You had no more choice of being a bule than you did of the shape of your ears, so get over yourself.
Third, when in need of bus accessories, come to Padang. The little city buses there – more like small minivans with the back emptied out for some benches all facing each other – are very colorful, very loud and very ornate. If you want the “red line,” you simply take an “angkot” colored in very bright red, with Formula-1 style fins on the roof and its own distinct horn-blow. Also, don’t be confused by the extremely foul language of the American music blaring out of the loudspeaker in the back, this is family oriented transportation. Most importantly, what looks like a giant snorkel in the front of the bus is not for fumes, it’s just a snorkel. It’s a “bus accessory” and as the driver explained in a completely straight face, Padang has the best!
Fourth, there really is nothing like waking up, opening the door to a magnificent crater-lake and taking a morning swim.
(We stayed in a small guesthouse, right on the water, with a manicured entrance via a nicely ordered path. Thing is, to get to this path you first have to wade through muddy rice paddies in a nice drizzle, just to add to the romance.)
Finally, the Minangkabau are a very proud ethnicity, and they’re not always that fond of others – such as Javanese (a central point of the experiments, which measure generosity and expectations among subjects, most of whom were Javanese and Minang.) Another group of whom some Minang do not always speak kindly are the Batak, a family of ethnicities from North Sumatra. North Sumatra is home to lake Maninjau’s big(ger) rival, Lake Toba. After a while in Padang, I learned that it’s useful to speak slightly disparagingly of Toba, when compared to Maninjau (“Toba’s too big, really….”) Problem was, I unwittingly tried this on a Batak who had recently moved to Padang. He was appalled that I could even compare Toba to that puddle. This is a photo of Toba from a wonderful trip I took with a good friend a couple of years ago.
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