The Jakarta Shortlist: Bali

Today, in Jakarta, the nurse called me at work to say that my kindergartner needed to come home.  I was out of the office within 10 minutes and spent over an hour driving the 8 kilometers to school.  I raced in, picked up the sick little girl, and piled her into the car for the 7 kilometer ride home.  It was another hour before she could lay down on the couch.  Spending two hours in the car to take my sick baby less than 10 miles did not have me loving Jakarta.

But there are things that make me love life in Indonesia, and Bali is on the top of the list.  Oh, there are so many things to love in Bali.

Private pools in private villas;

Picturesque temples with gorgeous backdrops;

Driveways full of beauty and character, but too narrow for a car;

Sunsets complete with fishermen from a warung on the beach;

Watching surfers with a bowl of granola and a fresh squeezed juice;

Its a shortlist of things I will miss about Jakarta.  But Bali is absolutely on the list.

The Jakarta Shortlist: our school

I was recently chastised by my dad because I haven't posted anything on the blog since December.  My schedule has grown busier with work and the girls' schedules have gotten busier as they continue to grow older.  Add in that Dave had dengue and we are now preparing to move and I have precious little time for writing.  But as we enter the home stretch, I am becoming aware of the things I will miss in this city.  So, just to please my dad, my goal is to post my Jakarta Shortlist over my last few months in this city.

Top of the list - the school.

Even when we hated it here, we could always say that we loved the school.  Our girls left the house for a walk on our first day in town and they immediately hated Jakarta.  It took a long time for them to get over the garbage and the smells and the challenges of getting around this city.  But it took them a matter of minutes to get comfortable at their school.

The tree in the central courtyard of the school.

This elementary school has fostered a strong sense of community, where our girls support each other and stand up for their friends.  They have grown as performers and musicians, as authors and illustrators, as thinkers and athletes.  They raise money and they build businesses.  They spend recess running and climbing, or putting on impromptu puppet shows in the library.  They have been challenged in more amazing ways and their confidence has grown more than I could have imagined.  Moving this summer will be hard, but each girl is in such a strong place academically and socially that I know they will land well.

The wall in Lilly's classroom - a white board full of thoughts.

That my girls are happy and growing as students and as people makes me love this school. This week is Indonesia Week - and it is a week that the school shines.  They Day Two Assembly this morning had performances from rwo local dance troupes and the children loved them.  They heard from a student's godfather about the school's namesake. The 5th grade performed a traditional song on the angklung and the entire student body sang along.  We live behind gates in our neighborhood and their school sits behind high walls with armed guards at the gates.  It is too easy too forget what country we live in, unless we are annoyed by how it differs from what we expect.  But Indonesia Week makes my girls know and love the place they live, something I am so thankful for.

I watched the assembly this morning and then went to Lilly's music class, where she taught me how to play the angklung and with the gamelan.  She and her friends were enthused about the music and happy to engage with me and each other.  After the parent lesson, I hopped in the car and headed to work.  What should have been a 30 minute drive took nearly 100 minutes because taxi drivers and other public transportation deliverers protested online applications like Uber and Grab Taxi in various public places around town.  As we left the school, which is located near the epicenter of the protest, bajajs paraded down the street with protest signs and flags flying.  It felt almost festive and had a definite energy.

But those bajajs, taxis, and private buses blocked the major street between the school and my office forcing us to take another route.  The traffic stopped feeling festive pretty quickly, and led to a very rushed day, reminding me that although Indonesia has an amazing culture and we have a good life here, but Jakarta is still a difficult place to live. 

The protests ended midday and all of the drivers went on strike, leaving the roads empty when I returned to school after work.  What took 100 minutes in the morning only took 15 minutes in the afternoon.

Anne Shirley and Marilla Cuthbert

A few weeks ago, Lilly and I began reading "Anne of Green Gables" together.

This was entirely my idea.  She was required to read a classic for school, and "Anne of Green Gables" was on her bookshelf; but she had approached the book once before, and the language and miserable character in the first chapter sent her away.

I am reading it to her at bedtime - a rare joy, with our avid and independent young reader.  On this, my first reading as an adult, I love the book just as much as when I was 10 years old.  Yet many things surprise me.  Lilly struggles to understand some of the language; but I remember loving the book as a 5th grader, and she is a much stronger reader than I ever was.  Perhaps the book became antiquated in the past 30 years; perhaps Lilly hasn't spent enough time talking with my grandmother, or anyone of her generation. Lucy Maud Montgomery's wit was understated and sharp, and Lilly frequently misunderstands her criticisms as plain descriptors.  How much did I miss when I read this 30 years ago?

Lilly's opinion of Anne surprises me the most.  She has not fully developed her thesis, but it is clear that Lilly finds Anne silly and frivolous.  Anne's lavish word choices often annoy her and her constant eye to scope for the imagination seems excessive.  Lilly agrees with Marilla - Anne is vain and overly picky, and she talks too much.

She is right on all counts, of course.  But here is the difference:  when Lilly reads the book, she identifies with Marilla most of the time.  When I read the book as a girl, I identified fully with Anne.  I was quite convinced that had I been an orphan girl on Prince Edward Island, I would have been exactly like her; in love with the natural beauty and the unique sense of place, inspired by everything around me, and seeing sparkles in every new thing.  Reading the book, both then and now, filled me with joy and a magical sense of wonder, and a piercing longing to live in the midst of such simple beauty.

It is jarring to read one of my favorite characters to my daughter, and find that she is annoyed.

Friday the 13th

We threw a small party last night for Dave's coworkers.  They would be at a coworking space in our neighborhood all day, and come over afterward for chili and corn muffins.  This was a particularly good deal, because we otherwise live quite far from the embassy.  No one would come to a Friday night party at our house, if they were not already in the neighborhood.

The challenge: We would serve chili to about 20 people.

We have 20 pieces of every other dish - plates, silverware, etc.  But we only have 8 bowls.  That's because when we bought the bowls in Jakarta, the store only had 8 in stock.  No problem, we thought.  We'll just buy more when the time comes. The time came yesterday.  So, the plan was laid out.  We would prepare the house before work, I would quick run to Muji to grab the bowls, and then I would work somewhere near the school because Talent Show rehearsals were after school today.  That would have Lilly, Fia, and I arriving home just in time for the party to begin.  No problem, because Ibu Sri was prepped on all things party and could manage the set up.

The day began confidently, with fresh flowers from down the street.  I was in the car headed toward Pondok Indah Mall for Muji, the Japanese store that sells our bowls, right on time.  Traffic seemed a little crazy, but nothing that I hadn't budgeted for.  We arrived soon after the store opened.  Pak Adi parked next to the door and I raced inside, telling him, Only 10 minutes, and then we will go.  All set.

I skipped up the escalator and straight to my store.  On a chance meeting, I said hit to my friends who apparently share an appreciation for all things organized and Muji as well, and then headed back to the kitchen shelves for my bowls.

Problem.  No bowls.
Solution:  The friends in the store happen to be my neighbors, and have offered to lend their chili bowls for the evening.

I'm back in the car within the requisite 10 minutes and we were on our way to the American Club, a quiet spot close fairly close to the school where I should be able to work for the next four hours.

Macet.

Macet translates to "jammed" in Bahasa Indonesia, and is the Jakarta word for "crazy traffic."  We hit crazy, unexpected traffic on the way to the American Club and what I expected to be a 15 minute drive was double that.  Originally on track to arrive at the club only minutes after I should have started work, we were now passing that time on Jalan Fatmawati.

Problem: Macet.
Solution: Mobile wi-fi. Traffic moved so slowly that checking email and downloading documents from the back seat was a breeze.

Back on track, we arrive at the American Club, I pick up a few things from the commissary and catering and send them back home with Pak Adi.  I settle myself into a table in the cafe, just as my main documents arrive via email.  Order lunch and a coffee, and I settle in to work for the next 4 hours.  Smooth.  I finish and arrive at the school just in time for Talent Show rehearsals, where both Lilly and Sophia do markedly better than last week.  More success.

But during the rehearsals, things begin to decay.

Annika has gone home with a friend, who promised to drop her off at our house around 6.  Now that friend has no driver.  Can we come pick her up?
Dave has discovered the lack of bowls.  Dave is not so keen on the borrowing from the neighbors plan. Why didn't you just buy disposable bowls?  He's panicking and making new plans to serve the chili.  The neighbor needs to leave but Dave hasn't showed up to pick her up bowls.  I'm feeling a bit silly, coordinating between two people who are only a few hundred meters apart.
Technical difficulties arise in the Talent Show rehearsals, and it becomes clear that we will not be leaving on time.  Then the PA system began a lightning announcement that will not stop for a few minutes.  More technical difficulties - but now I'm stewing about the lightning.  Dave and Annie's playdate are both texting me about rain.  Rain is a blessing in Jakarta.  The country is in the midst of a horrible drought and the water table in the city is so low that in many homes, water no longer comes out of the tap. If we were home, rain would be a blessing.  But traffic on Friday nights is never good, and adding rain to the mix will easily double our drive.

The final act completes their rehearsal and we jet out of the school.  I've sent Pak Adi home because of the late night, and so I'm driving.  We climb into the car.  It has not yet started raining, and traffic has not yet increased.  I'm expedient as we head toward Angie's house - Lilly's performance partner, who lives on the way home.  About halfway there, rain is coming down in such torrents that I can only see the lights of the cars in front of me.  Stay in the middle of the road and follow the traffic. Somehow the little girl chatter in the backseat had a calming effect, and traffic in Jakarta moves so slowly that its hard to be scared.

We drive through water that reaches the bottom of the car, but otherwise make it through unscathed.  Drop off Angie and head for a quick cut-through at the mall.  They've just opened a back way, so that we can drive directly through the mall between our house and Angie's.  This should cut our drive in half!  Yahoo!  We are on our way to the party!

Problem: We sat completely still for 30 minutes at the mall cut through.  Apparently its not such a well kept secret.

Problem: The mall cut through wasn't moving because Kemang Raya wasn't moving.  That's the street we needed next.

Once we began moving, we made it through both roads rather smoothly.

Problem: Having reached the road to our home and to Annika's playdate, its another parking lot.  Apparently, the entrance to our neighborhood is flooded out. We could now walk home in under 10 minutes.  But it takes us another 30 to drive it.

We finally reach the playdate, where the mom has an extra box of bowls wrapped up for us to borrow.  We grab the kid and the bowl and turn around.  Luckily, traffic between Kaia's house and ours was smooth so we make it home in 5.

It took us 2 hours to arrive home.  Lilly's teacher says the same drive takes her about 8 minutes at 6:00 a.m. most mornings.  I usually expect 20-30 minutes during typical traffic.  Two hours.

The guests all faced the same traffic in our neighborhood, so we arrived no later than anyone else to our party. And the chili was delicious.

A Morning Escape from Jakarta

Dave's parents were in town this week.  We showed them around town, and we all took the day off on Monday to escape the city and walk through the rice terraces and villages that make up most of the island of Java.  We went hiking with idGuides, who were very well organized and kept us all safe and happy.

Dave and I fully prepared for a morning hike by packing our water bottles, granola bars, and rain jackets and charging the camera batteries.  Only when we got out of the car did I realize that I had brought my camera, but not my battery.  Luckily, my father-in-law is never without at least two cameras.  He handed me his smaller camera and here is what I saw.

The landscape is gorgeous, a green mix of wild jungle and agricultural terraces.  The sun did come out for part of our walk, but the ominous dark clouds made for dramatic photography. As I sit at my desk, I am amazed that this scenery is just an hour away from the heart of the urban jungle.

Although we could drive to the trail head in about 90 minutes, the village was not accessible by car.  We wandered a bit through the village and then out around the fields and hills, all guided by a team of local villagers.  There was garbage everywhere. It is difficult to explain the trash on the street in Jakarta, and the girls and I were even more disturbed by the trash on the side of the trail. I told them that garbage trucks certainly can not reach this village, which is true.  But that doesn't fully explain the problem.  The first and second pictures are taken from the same place, first looking out and then looking down.

Sophia was in awe of the pink pineapples.

Life had all of the romanticized benefits of rural living, but living in this village is clearly hard work.  These were the roughest and the nicest houses I noticed on our walk.

These men are digging a new water route through the rice field.  Farmers rotate their fields of rice   regularly, and divert irrigation to whichever field needs it.

This man is managing the scarecrow lines, a number of cables crossing the rice paddies with plastic bags or noisemakers attached.  He shakes the lines to scare the birds away.  This seems wildly labor intensive to me; also rather relaxing, possibly on par with going fishing - another activity that only keeps my interest for about 10 minutes.

The madness of an Asian megacity makes me forget what a beautiful country we live in.

Mumbai 2017

Dave has been officially offered and has accepted a position in Mumbai, India following the conclusion of our time here in Jakarta.  We will transfer next summer.  The whole family is feeling excited about this, for loads of reasons.

Dave is feeling excited in large part because the bidding process is over.  In the State Department, a person finds their next job through a mishmash process of lobbying and official assignment called bidding.  Jobs are centrally posted, individuals make contact to apply for the job.  This is followed by interviews and searching your contacts to see who you know that may know someone who knows someone who could make a decision about you.  In a field where people make new hiring decisions every year and the entire office turns over completely every 3 years, personal references are invaluable.  Dave was in the enviable position of being able to choose between two jobs.  In the current State Department climate, this was good luck and (I believe) a testament to Dave's good work.

I wrote about our decision a few weeks ago, the point where we decided not to return to Washington for the next four years.  But I thought you might enjoy the thought process from the day.

We chatted with the girls about the two cities over dinner that night.  They felt excited about DC, even though they seemed serious about me returning to work and living on a very tight budget.  They also felt excited about Mumbai - the food, the clothes, the friends, the new adventure.  That list has since grown to include the school and the opportunity to live in a high rise.  Over dinner, they could not decide which city they would prefer.  And then Sophia said, I think Mumbai would be great because there will be no garbage on the street. I'm sure people pick up their trash and the skies are blue.

Um, sorry kiddo, I said.  I think Mumbai will be even worse than Jakarta on that front.

All three looked at me with disbelief.  And then each of them echoed, Well then, we should go to Washington!

Prepared for the garbage and the smells and the abundance of poverty, I am not excited about moving into another massive Asian city with hyper pollution and nasty traffic.  I miss parks and relaxing outside.  But I am otherwise way excited about Mumbai, which looks to be a vibrant city in an ancient country rich with culture.

How I Agree with Paul Ryan

It wouldn't take very long to compile a list of the ways that Paul Ryan and I agree politically.  I'd have more fun building a list of the many areas where we disagree.  But I've enjoyed hearing him prioritize his family as he prepares for the speakership.  I am constantly flummoxed by work-life balance in today's world - where a man wanting to limit his work responsibilities on the weekends when he lives in a different city from his children five days out of seven is making news.  Obviously, he's making news for other reasons as well.  All the same, our collective standard for family time and work-life balance remains low.  Googling him this morning, I learned that Ryan and his wife are raising their children in the same small town where they grew up, surrounded by family and steeped in community and tradition.  He told Cokie Roberts that not only do they not wish to move to Washington, they also can't afford to.

And this is where I stand with Paul Ryan.  We can't afford to move to Washington on a government salary, either.

Dave is nearing the end of bidding season, where Foreign Service Officers "bid" on their next position within the department.  Assignments will be officially announced at the beginning of November, but neither job seekers nor job offer-ers want to reach that date without a promise that their match will be reciprocated.  It is an exciting and stressful season.

Dave was offered a job in Washington, D.C.  He was offered a job that he has sought before, a competitive job that excites him and would advance his career.  He had 24 hours to respond.  We were excited at the prospect, and weighed the pros and cons.  Financially, it would be difficult, we thought. But we could go home, to a neighborhood where people still know our names, a church where people still pray for us.  We asked the girls.  They knew they would face extra chores and that I would go back to work full-time, so they weighed their options carefully.  In Washington, they knew, we would see snow and parks and old friends, and spend holidays with family.  The pros were in - Washington would be a great move.

Then we looked at the cons.  Financially, it would be difficult.  But when we ran the numbers, we were floored.  We could not find a way to budget our next few years in Washington without hitting negative numbers every month.  We probably could afford to be Paul Ryan's neighbors in small town Wisconsin, but we can no more afford a move to Washington than he can.

This hit me hard, for a few reasons.

Reason #1 - We are not poor.  We can afford to travel and save money for our kids college tuitions. We will likely receive no financial aid.  We can choose for me to stay home with the girls; it is a choice that I work.  If we scraped and saved this year, we could afford a house in many Midwestern towns.  But the Washington area is no Midwestern town.  It is one of the most expensive cities in the United States.  Not only would I have to work full-time, but I could not afford to work in my field - I am a social worker with an interest in community development and a government salary added to a social service salary does not a Northern Virginia lifestyle make.  Earning triple digits would still leave us in debt most months.  We would be lucky to pay $2,500 in rent - likely we would pay over $3,500.  Adding after-care for the girls and we have far exceeded my likely salary.  I am not complaining - I know many of you face tougher monthly budgets than I'm describing.  But I was shocked.  We could return to our old neighborhood in DC, work a lot, live in 2-bedrooms, and pull the girls out of piano lessons and soccer.  Or we could stay abroad.  We voted to stay abroad.

Reason #2 - I can do anything.  I was chatting with an old friend this morning about our 20th high school reunions.  We discussed feeling old, and she shared the realization that she will never be an astronaut.  I laughed - I realized I would never be an astronaut when I was eleven.  But she never completely closed the door... until she realized this year that it would never happen. I looked at our preliminary budget with the same sad shock.  This is something I want  - how can it be impossible?

Reason #3 - We can not go home. I identify fully and proudly as a Midwesterner.  I was so excited at the prospect of a Cubs - Royals World Series.  But after living in Virginia and then returning   again a year later in crisis, Arlington has become home.  It is the only American city my children remember as home.  We all have friends there, and we were all sad to leave.  If we returned this summer, we could return to our same neighborhood and feel welcome and at home.  The girls would return to friends.  Annika could have the same 1st grade teacher as both of her sisters. We could go home to fall leaves and winter snows and spring flowers and summer road trips to cousins and grandparents.  With the girls getting older, it will only get harder to move back to Virginia.  Housing prices will continue to rise and we will continue to need more space.  Friends will grow and forget about their old friends from early elementary school.  It will grow harder to change schools for only a year or two at a time.  Likely, not going home this year means we won't live in the United States again for a long time.  And that we may never return to Arlington.  It makes me feel sad, like I'm losing the home I left waiting for me.

Dave is waiting for confirmation of the job he wants.  He has received strong positive feedback and expects to be offered the job soon.  When we hear, I'll share... and you all can begin planning your next vacation.