Yogyakarta at last!

After countless days of orientation--with meeting after meeting and embassy official after embassy official--I finally arrived in Yogyakarta yesterday, but, as expected, not without some "adventure" thrown in.

I went to the Jakarta airport with Ingrid, my wonderful counterpart. Ingrid, a Catholic Indonesian, used to work for an NGO that spreads HIV awareness to sex workers (she has lots of transgender friends, she says, which caused quite a ruckus with her Catholic family at her graduation party!) and now she volunteers at a children's hospital, where she works with the poorest of poor children with cancer, playing games with them, drawing pictures, etc. (I might get in on that--it would feel good to make a difference again.) In any case, after chatting for an hour or so, Ingrid got up to look for a gift for her boyfriend. I decided to sit and read her English copy of "Persepolis"(I forgot to bring any fiction with me). All of a sudden, I felt nauseous and a little dizzy. I initially assumed it was the stomach bug/jet lag combo that had been getting me down for the last several days, but when I looked up, I saw Indonesians scurrying about and this giant chandelier (I'll post a picture of it) swaying quite dramatically. Earthquake! It was evidently a 7.3 on the Richter Scale earthquake, though we only felt it a little bit at the airport...

I arrived in Yogya (pronounced Jogja) and was quite relieved to find a clean, less congested, and green little city--quite a contrast from Jakarta. Indri, a taxi driver trusted by Ingrid, came to pick us up in his pimped out, hip hop pumping mini van (I'll post a picture of his dashboard--wow). Indri dropped us off at Carrefour and Ingrid and I went shopping for groceries--they have peanut butter, milk, bread, vegetables and pasta, which is just what I make at home so I'll be alright (and people at ICRS explained to me that it's really just cheaper to eat out anyway).

Then on we went to my new home. After winding down tiny little sidestreets paved in brick and riddled with speed bumps, we got to the guesthouse. We were greeted by Mas Moko and his little brother--ICRS's "houseboys"-- who seem to do everything from cleaning to feeding the fish to cooking to giving people rides places on their scooters. Melissa, an Aussie exchange student and Ali, a PhD student who is also taking my course, (which might be awkward) also live at the house.

The house itself is gorgeous--the indoors and outdoors meld in the common area; the kitchen and sitting room have giant lofted ceilings, with large airy openings at the top, making the area feel almost like a patio. And yes, there is an indoor stream, gold fish and all, with ferns growing from rock walls surrounding it; there's also a little fern garden and an additional pond, complete with a fake stump so you can sit next to it. As I write this, I'm sitting on the front patio enjoying the breeze next to another pond surrounded by tropical flowers. What an airy, beautiful place.

To get to my bedroom (which is in a separate from the "normal" guests, according to Ingrid), you must climb a winding spiral staircase. Evidently they've been working for weeks on the room: there's a lovely little sitting area cordoned off by some hanging plants, again with sort of a porch-like feeling--there are large windows open to the breeze . Next to the sitting area there's also a little kitchen--it will be almost like cooking outdoors. My room itself is less open to the elements: they've got it plastic wrapped up so that mosquitoes don't get in, I guess (though a little gecko somehow managed!). The decor is traditional, with dark hand-carved furniture, lovely hand-sewn linen, a fridge and a TV (with cable!). I'll post pictures.

This morning I woke up and wandered around: quite near me there are two movie theatres, a giant mall with nice clothing stores, a Wendy's (really?), a 24 hour pharmacy, and countless little shops and mom and pops places. Next door there's a yoga studio complete with organic cafe...not bad. There's also a mosque on one side (the loudspeakers broadcasting prayers at 3:30 am and 6 am won't let me forget that) and a Protestant church on the other. My favorite part of the neighborhood, however, are the quiet streets that surround the house--they call them "mouse streets" here--where only motorcycles and pedestrians can fit. I feel much safer walking around here. And the neighbors are super friendly.

After wandering around my neighborhood, I called the houseboy and he took me to work at ICRS (The Indonesian Consortium for Religious Studies), and somehow he managed to use the mouse streets to avoid the giant thoroughfare altogether...I'll have to learn that route when I get my bicycle. The people at ICRS are fabulous--they gave me a spacious office with giant windows overlooking the volcano; there are lush tropical plants in the flower garden below my window, and, strangely, there are herons that live in the trees there. I've never seen a heron in a tree. Who knew?

The people I'll be working with are all about my age and they speak English quite well. One of the women, who was wearing a beautiful head scarf, said to me, "We are all your age, so we should hang out!" I can't wait! Another woman who works in the office, Inid, also wearing a beautiful head scarf, wrote about the Beat poets for her thesis. Inid gave me a ride home on her scooter, and that was a harrowing experience: imagine me, a big foreigner, clinging to this tiny little Indonesian woman wearing a head scarf as we hurtle through the mouse streets, catching air over the speed bumps. I also met a professor of religious studies from the States that seems very interested in my research (he's looking for some people for my case studies for me) who has been here since the 70s. He offered to take me, along with our students, on the 6 field trips he has planned to remote religious sites all over Java. What an experience!

I haven't written this much since my prospectus, so I'd better sign off!