Radio Buku

In addition to my dissertation research here, I have become involved in an online Indonesian writers and translators group called Aspas, short for Apresiasi Sastra, or Literature Appreciation.  I am helping them edit a couple of short stories that have already been translated, and translating a few stories myself.  The leader, Sigit Susanto is a writer and translator (he translated Kafka into Indonesian) who currently lives in the Netherlands, but he’s shared his network of friends so I’ve gotten to meet some interesting literary types here in Yogya.

Via Aspas, a couple of weeks ago I was invited to be interviewed for an internet radio show called Radio Buku, or Book Radio.  Ardyan, the guy who interviewed me, is a Westerns fan currently writing his undergraduate thesis on representations of the American border in Cormac McCarthy.  We talked about how I came to be in Indonesia, my top five favorite books (which was a really hard question, and I had to pick kind of arbitrarily except for, of course, The English Patient and The Family of Man), my opinion about the role of public libraries in a democracy, and etc.  You can listen to the interview (in Indonesian!), see a picture of me in the studio, and browse their website here.  To hear my segment, wait for my picture to pop up and then click on it.

The radio show is connected to a wonderful lending library in the cultural heart of Yogya, right near the palace, which specializes in books on literature, language, and nation.  There was a huge woodblock print on the wall proclaiming that you can’t have a democracy without access to books.  Membership costs 100,000 Rupiah (about $10), is valid for 20 years, and means that you can both take out books and hang out there whenever you want.  (This also means, you can nap there whenever you want.  When I arrived a pretty young girl in a yellow jilbab greeted me, and by the time I was done with the interview she was cashed out face down on the rug in the middle of the room and stayed that way until I left.  Public and unabashed napping, just another reason to love this country).

I am totally going to become a member because while printing is much more vibrant than it used to be in Indonesia, it’s still really hard to find copies of literary books, even from just a handful of years ago.  They had a copy of a book I’ve been dying to read by a well-known novelest Eka Kurniawan called Cantik itu Luka (Beauty is a Wound), which starts with the description of an old prostitute rising from the dead twenty years after she has been buried.  

Aerobics

This week I was invited to do aerobics with a group of female teachers from the autism school.  I met them after school hours on campus, we all changed into our exercise clothes, rearranged some furniture in a classroom, an aerobics instructor arrived and we sweated it out for the afternoon.  While the actual aerobics were just okay (I'd take yoga or a walk over aerobics any day) but the whole experience was a total treat for me and I'll tell you why.

The women all wear jilbabs during the work day, as well as their school uniform which consists of very modest button down shirts, slacks, and sensible shoes.  Jilbabs, as controversial as they have been here and abroad, for the most part have struck me as sensible attire in Indonesia.  They prevent your hair from getting all messed up from constantly taking your motorcycle helmet on and off.  While they are hot in the day time, they provide a light layer of warmth in the evening.  And wearing a jilbab definitely signals: I am here as a responsible adult woman, I mean business and I want to be treated with respect.  Which perhaps is to say that it seems quite formal to me.  Formal, modest, and slightly self-effacing (on the whole, although there is this new trend here in fancy jilbabs complete with sparkles and and whole flowers attached to the side, etc.).

So I have only seen these women, who are so friendly and kind, in this formal way.  But seeing them in their aerobics clothes was a whole different story.  We  crowded into another one of the classrooms, giggling and changing, and while they all started in their formal blue school uniforms with hair and ears covered, they emerged into a rainbow of work out gear and hair styles.  I was surprised--Bu Erfie has short hair!  Bu Novie looks totally different in a ponytail!--and delighted by the outfits.  There were plunging necklines.  There were crop tops. There were skintight stretch pants decorated with little bows. Ibu Anis had a unitard with hot neon pink and black stripes and geometric shapes with a built in sports bra.

It felt like a privilege to be invited into this women's realm and see a more relaxed and intimate side to them.... Plus I hadn't done the grapevine in a while!

Bought!

Khadir bought a new car, a 1962 all black Holden (of course).  I love this car and secretly wish that it was mine.  I don't know if you can see in the photo, that it says "Special" on the side in silver script.  It drives like a dream and has awesome all-original interior apolstery.  Apholstery.  Apohlstery.  How the heck do you spell that.

While he is intending to resell it, it arrived just in time for the rainy season, so we have been driving it around a bunch rather than taking the motorcycle.  It's true that on one particular occasion it's gas pedal literally fell off while we were waiting at a stoplight meaning that we spent a lot more time at the stoplight than we intended to while Khadir figured out how to reattach it, but it's so smooth and stylish. Did I mention that I secretly wish it was mine?

Meanwhile, Tucker, the blue Holden station wagon, which is occasionally rented out, had a starring role in tonight's episode of a serial soap opera called Pergi untuk Kerja, Pulang Karena Cinta (Left Home For Work, Came Back Home For Love).

Karimun Jawa

Last weekend I felt like I needed a break, so Khadir and I decided to take a trip to Karimun Jawa, a scattering of small islands off the Northern coast of Central Java.  The trip had its ups and downs; the major down was that due to some miscommunication (and a heavy dose of an Indonesian cultural aversion to things like scheduling and planning and a cultural preference for things like last-minute improvisation and finagleing), a trip that was supposed to take 4.5 hours of comfortable travel each way ended up taking about 12 each way, 6 hours of which were spent on the deck of a ferry in the blazing hot sun and 8 of which were spent in middle-of-the-night travel (which I feel like I am really too old for but Indonesians of all ages seem to enjoy).

In this picture we are feeling really hot, aka, cranky and burned by the sun.

The major ups included the views from our hotel, which was built like a floating raft in the middle of the sea and required a boat to get to.

The water off the Western side of the hotel was so shallow that you could climb down a small ladder and wade all the way out to a small island with a beach rife with mangroves and white firs, one of which Khadir immediately climbed.

We took a day trip traveling around to different islands and beaches and snorkeling.  We shared the boat with some additional Indonesian guests which meant that the other ladies on the boat were wearing modest swimwear, ie, a head to toe unitard complete with socked feet, aquaman hood and/or jilbab head covering and flouncy skirt and life jacket.

The last beach of the day was the best, with aquamarine water approaching it, crystal clear warm shallows and pure white sand.  Khadir and I wandered away from the boat on a shell-hunting mission and met an adorable set of little boys who popped out from between some palm trees.  It turned out they were brothers and lived on the island.  They first helped us find shells to add to our collection and then joined us for a swim.  Khadir taught them how to do backflips, and we left them just as the younger brother had loosened a gigantic beach vine, about 20 feet long, and tied one end of it around his older brother's waist and was grasping the other end, making him pull him along in the water.

On our way home we took a break from endless boat and bus transfers to visit Khadir's friend Erci and her little five month old baby in Semarang.  We were actually rounding a corner on our way to the house when we ran into Erci's mom, who herself had just arrived from an overnight bus journey home from attending a wedding in Bali.  We were showered with friendliness and all kinds of food to eat and bring home with us.

So, I couldn't really call the trip relaxing, but it was worth it.  Indonesia always manages to provide moments of sparkling magic and beauty, as well as experiences of succor and levels of kindness and warmth that you generally only get from your closest friends and family in the States.... but it also sometimes really makes you work for these moments.