Food Culture

I have almost become a vegetarian here in Indonesia. Well ok not really, but a good portion of my meals are vegetarian. I still eat meat about once every two days or so, but that is in contrast to eating meat for at least two meals a day back in the US. Not to mention every meal here is like dinner in the US, so if the situation were the same in the US then I would be eating meat for every meal.

The culture of food here is quite a bit different. Almost everyone in the house wakes up around 4:30 to pray, but if you do happen to live in a house that doesn't wake up to pray, then the women still wake up just as early to cook. A majority of the food is cooked in the morning and then left on the table so that you can come in to get food whenever you feel hungry later in the day. Indonesians stick to three meals a day just as we do, but the food is almost always the same for the entire day.

Here at permanent site my meals are almost the same everyday. There is, of course, an abundance of . . . Rice! I am in Asia and a 3rd world country after all. Every morning (and afternoon and evening as well) I can also find a pot of boiled vegetables with its stock, a plate of fried tempe (a compact block of soy beans) and tofu, and a plate of fried fish. Sometimes there is also a plate of chicken, but its not a staple. Depending on how fast all this food is eaten side dishes also become supplemented throughout the day with other food that has been purchased or cooked later. Sometimes at night my bapak goes out and buys sate (a grilled chicken skewer covered with a peanut sauce).

An interesting question that comes up when Indonesians ask about food in the US is "what is your base food?" They assume that it is bread, but we all of course know that it is not. We don't eat bread three times a day. I have told them that you may find it as toast for breakfast (but not always) and you will usually find in in a sandwich for lunch, but you don't normally see it on your dinner plate. During the first week of both of my homestays my family has bought me bread with the assumption that it would make me feel more at home. To their surprise I told them that I would rather eat rice for breakfast. I told them that I usually do not eat bread for a meal on its own. In some ways they were relieved by this because they don't see how you can be full off of bread (I have explained that I usually eat it with meat), but in other ways this confused them just as much. If bread is not our "base food" then what is?

We all know that we don't eat the same thing everyday, let alone for every meal. This is clearly a cultural difference. Maybe it is simply because we can afford variety or maybe it is because here food is what you simply need to stay alive. Either way it is different. I don't dislike the way I eat here. I think it actually makes it easier to control my intake of food (something that I have been struggling with for my entire life). It is kind of like wearing a uniform. If all the options are taken away then you don't have to worry about what you are going to wear and getting ready for work is a bit easier. I no longer think about what food would please me most at this particular moment and go searching for it. It also makes the days when I can choose food more fun. Its like dressing up a bit and allowing your desire to get a choice every now and then. All in all I think that this way of eating is working for me because there is balance.

Another difference is that meals are usually not a communal affair here. I eat most meals alone or at most with one other person. I don't know for sure why this is the case though. Some possible reasons may be that there usually isn't enough room around the table of everyone or because food may be seen as more of a necessity rather than a daily pleasure. (They certainly do find food to be a source of pleasure, but that doesn't mean that you indulge your cravings at every meal.) Overall though, I feel that Indonesians do not need family time over meals. Unlike suburban Americans, Indonesian villagers get plenty of family time throughout the day because the school and work day usually ends around 2pm. Their schedules revolve much more around the home. It is therefore not a necessity for them to take something practical like eating and turn it into family time.

Food here (and its culture) is good. I both equally enjoy it and get what I need. Balance has never come easily to me in regards to food. Hopefully I will be able to stick with the habits I have developed in the last few weeks as my time here progresses and even once I return to America.

Baby Steps- written 6/23

Almost everyday since I have arrived I have left the house at least once a day in the company of a family member or community member. This is to keep us from being "bosen" (bored) since "libur" (holidays) started on Monday. The current vacation block is their equivalent of a summer break, but since it Indonesia's school system is year around it only lasts for 3 weeks. Usually when I accompany these various people I simply walk beside them waiting for them to ask questions or explain things. I tend to still be a silent observer and I let them go about their business. When the time presents itself I join in on conversations or partake in a meal with them, but usually I am not too involved.

This morning's trip is to the local "pasar" (traditional market) where my family shops for supplies for the upcoming wedding of my host brother which will take place next week. Before we leave I am entrusted with the coin purse that contains the money for what they will buy because I have my purse with me. I don't think anything of it as we get into the family "mobil" (I think you can figure that one out) and set off for the pasar (remember?).

Pasar-pesar (pretty much all nouns in the Indonesian language are made plural by repeating it a second time) are usually very dirty places with fresh produce and meat sitting out on bamboo tables or simply splayed out upon mats on the ground. They are a bit of a contradiction because usually the food that is being sold is all local and very fresh, but place of business itself seems rather unsanitary. To complete the picture of un-cleanliness there is also usually a stench in the air. My local pasar is no exception to these expectations. As we walk through the market to a destination that my family clearly has in mind, even they are very mindful of where they put their feet.

We end up at a household supply toko (a small store owned by a local). The place is very crowded with both people and product. This store looks like a room that you would see in "Hoarders Buried Alive,"* however there is organization to it because the shopkeepers know where to find what we are looking for even if wecan't. Many of the products their do not appear new, but when the dust is wiped off of the box and the cup, bowl, or whatever it may be is taken out of the box, it is clear that it has never been used before. Never judge a product by its box.

I try to stay out of the way as my family is handed the bags, plastic spoons, and plastic baggies they are looking for. Before agreeing to the transaction they examine each thing to make sure that it is what they are looking for. A lot of conversation takes place between the shopkeepers and my host sister and Bapak. I don't understand most of it for two reasons. One: my Indonesian isn't bad, but the in last week I have realized how much I really don't know. Two: they were probably speaking a mix of bahasa** Indonesia, bahasa Madura, and bahasa Jawa (Java). I assume that most of the conversation is about price and I can tell that they aren't sure if the plastic bags that they are buying are big enough. In the end though they decide to get everything.

During all of this I simply observe like I have been doing so much in the last week. There isn't a whole lot for me to do during these outings otherwise. I try to listen and learn new words, but I can only do that for so long before my concentration breaks and it becomes pointless. At this point I usually give myself a break and just observe or let my thoughts wonder. I am therefore a little caught off guard when my sister turns to me and gestures for me to participate in what was going on. It then occurs to me that I am in position of the money they need to pay the guy. I pull out the little coin purse from my bag and hand it to her with my right hand (it is very impolite to hand something to someone with your left hand because it is considered unclean). She pays the man and then hands it back to me.

This was the first time that I have had a sort of responsibility with the family. It is a very small one, but I am still being useful in some way. As we proceed to other toko-toko I continued to play my part as the keeper of the money. Once they pick out what they want I hand over the coin purse and each time I feel a little bit more useful.

The adjustment process is still only starting here, I recognize that. I have yet to make any real contribution to the family and most of the time I feel like I am just burdening them with my need to be fed and the fact that my clothes need to be washed (I tried to let them wash my clothes but they wouldn't hear of it). PC always stresses that you should notice and celebrate your small successes. Although it seems strange to have to be successful in being able to contribute to a household, I feel that at least some baby steps are being made.

*Related to "Hoarders Buried Alive"- During PST one of my fellow PCTs and I were waiting for an angkot (public trans of sorts) across the street from a crazy old woman's house. She liked to yell out to people from her porch and her house had an eerie feel to it. It was dark even in the bright sunlight and old blackened pieces of fabric and cardboard hung all around the exterior. I asked if he had seen the show "Hoarders Buried Alive." He confirmed that he had. "Could you imagine what an Indonesian hoarder's house would look like?" I asked. He replied that he had been thinking the same thing as he stared at the same house and we both just kind of shuddered at the thought.

**As a side note bahasa simply means language and they just stick a country or region to the end of it. Java and Madura are both Indonesian islands. I live in East Java and Madura is an island to the east of Java that is considered part of East Java. I do not live on Madura, but many of the people in my city are from their. Possibly the only exceptions to the physical location rule of "bahasa" are English and Spanish because so many countries speak both and they are not physically connected to one place. Oh and Mandarin is also an exception. I suppose this is because of the many dialects in China.

The Only Roller Coaster I Don't Enjoy - written 6/22

I have lived at permanent site now for full week and within this short time I have come to understand so much more about the blog entries that I read for six months prior to actually stepping foot on Indonesian soil. I wish I could say that leaving my training village and arriving at my permanent site has been a seamless transition, but alas it has not. It has actually been a million times harder than I anticipated.

I am not sure that I had ever thought too far past PST. Sure there were times during PST where I was excited about what I would do with my students and the ways in which I would approach things differently with my new host family, but as the days towards Swearing In approached I clung to my life in Malang as hard as I could. I made sure that I didn't leave until the last possible moment and I lapped up as much time as I could with other PCTs (now PCVs!!!!) and my host family as possible. In many ways it resembled the days before my departure for PC itself. In both situations I found that although I had been excited about my new home for quite some time, I was very reluctant to leave my old one when the time came.

As I hugged my Malang Ibu goodbye we both started sobbing. I told myself that I would control it once I got into the car with my principle and one of my counterparts. For the most part I was successful with this except when my thoughts drifted back to Giripurno and my Ibu. I had become so comfortable there and we knew what to expect from each other. I really didn't want to leave.

Throughout the day I rode the rollercoaster of emotions (probably the only rollercoaster that I don't enjoy). At some moments I had total control and could even see myself start to like the people I was around and at others there was absolutely nothing I could do to control the tears.

The lowest point was when my principal and his wife were about to leave me with my host family. At that moment all I wanted to do was go into my room and cry. Unfortunately for me, however, they couldn't leave fast enough. Within seconds of this thought popping into my head the tears start pouring. The principal's wife pulled me into my room and immediately started to mop up my tears, literally. She pushed away the tears with the palms of her hands, the way she would do with a 3 year old. I tried to tell them that I was happy to be hear and that I simply missed my Malang family. Although she understood this, I had exposed myself. I know that this sometimes has its values (as one of our staff likes to put it "it shows them you are human"), but this really wasn't the time for it. I needed to be showing that I am a capable adult and loosing control of my emotions within the first hour of being in my new home was not proving this point.

In the days following my first real emotional breakdown in Indonesia, I found myself crying every day. The smallest thoughts would trigger the emotional release. Within a day I was no longer only homesick for Malang, but I was completely questioning my reasons for being her. Everyday I walk out of my bedroom and into a family room filled with four adult siblings, two spouses, two young children and of course the parents that had fostered this close and loving family. Although I didn't admit it to myself right off the bat (or maybe I just couldn't recognize it initially) I was jealous of their proximity to family. They see one another everyday and the sudden realization that I would be missing out on two years of life with my parents, family and friends consumed me.

In this particular situation I was fortunate for two things: 1) that I have battled with my mind on enough occasions to recognize when I need to talk myself down; 2) that I am a bit too prideful. Usually my pride is troublesome and ironically its not something I am proud of. It was proven useful, however, when my instinct was to bolt. It made me think about what others will think about my decision (again not the most mature thought process) and then eventually it led me to wonder what I would eventually think of myself later in life (a tad bit more mature I think). When I realized that I would probably not forgive myself for skipping out on PC without a good reason my ability to talk myself down kicked in.

As much as I would love to be surrounded by family and friends for the next two years, the reality is that my best friends are spread out along the east coast and some are even on the other side of the country.

As much as I miss spending the evenings and weekends with my parents, the reality is that if I had not chosen to go into the PC I would now be living on my own and not in a household similar to the traditional, multigenerational Indo household that I am currently living in. And finally if I were back in the US I would not be missing my family or friends nearly as much (or even at all; sorry I really do love you all) as I do here in Indo. I would probably be continuing my tornado of a lifestyle and wouldn't even have time to think about the fact that I wasn't with the people I loved most in the world everyday. None of these thoughts would have even occurred to me in the US.

So every time I get upset (I just tried to spell that as "ubset" : this is a sign that I am becoming Indonesian because here Bs and Ps are almost indistinguishable) about missing home, I now I have a way of talking myself down. This is good. This whole emotional coaster did lead me to the conclusion, however, that I refuse miss out on my family and friends in a different way than I would have in the US (sorry I know that sentence doesn't make much sense but I couldn't figure out how to word it properly).

I have therefore decided that I will absolutely pay for a decent internet connection. This is something that I was hoping to avoid because it doesn't seem PC. I have been advised by people on staff not to think of purchasing things that would make life a bit easier as "non-PC." They give us this advice when we talk about the fact that we aren't living in mud huts or with limited electricity the way other volunteers around the world are and also when we talk about our reservations about the internet. Well I am choosing to take their advice. PC is not a single experience shared by all volunteers world wide. Everyone has similarities, but even within a single country or city, volunteers have completely different experiences. I am choosing to build new relationships with the people I meet here, but I want to make sure that I have a way to strengthen the relationships I have at home. You know "make new friends, but keep the old."