In 5 days, we'll be celebrating our 6-monthiversary here in Poland. There aren't nearly as many culture shocks as we had in Jakarta, but there are still a few things that take some getting used to. One of these things is personal space.
As an American, personal space is VERY important to me. I have strict cultural rules concerning personal space. This cultural programming is especially acute when in certain situations, such as at a doctor's office or the check-out line at a grocery store.
Here in Poland, there seems to be a different expectation when it comes to personal space in lines. A few weeks back, I went to the doctor's office to renew a prescription. I was standing at the reception counter talking to the receptionist, when someone else came into the office. While I was still talking, the person came up and stood next to me. I still don't know enough Polish to speak my mind, but I was incredibly flustered at the situation. I didn't feel it was the business of a complete stranger to know what I was doing at the doctor's office.
This could have been written off as a one-time experience, but I've also had issues at the grocery store. I'll admit, there isn't a large amount of space between the aisles and the check-out, but when a complete stranger bumps me in my rear end not once, not twice, but three times, I get kind of frustrated. Actually, very frustrated. After the third time, I didn't care about speaking Polish, I just turned and exclaimed, "Stop touching me!" (I may have included an expletive as well).
Even today at the post office I had an issue. When I entered, the two open windows were already occupied, so I stood several feet away in the middle of the two windows. When one window became free, I approached the counter. During my time at the counter, a line formed behind me. Well, not behind me so much as next to me. Right at my shoulder and old lady was inching closer and closer to make sure she was served next.
I honestly have no idea why Poles are generally more comfortable with less personal space, but I'm not the only one to notice it. And although there are things I can easily get used to, such as shaking hands every time I come across someone I know, personal space is something I value dearly. So, please, if you're a stranger, just don't touch me.
Showing posts with label culture shock. Show all posts
Showing posts with label culture shock. Show all posts
Saturday, April 5, 2014
Thursday, October 24, 2013
A trip to the other side of the world: Take two (Part 2)
Washington, D.C. was beautiful and much warmer than we had expected. After a year of 32°C (90°F), we were expecting to freeze in 22°C (72°F), but DC actually got pretty warm during the days while we were there.
Visiting DC, was actually a bit of a culture shock. As much as we love the friends we made in Jakarta, Jakarta wasn't the easiest place to live. The macet, banjir dan polusi, in Jakarta made for a love/hate relationship: I loved the people, but hated the city. So when we were walking around DC, Alexander and I made some interesting comments, such as "Wow, it's great to breath", "Look! We can walk on the sidewalk" and "Wait, where are the motorbikes?". Other people also noticed our culture shock when we were amazed at the selection in the grocery store and accidentally said terima kasih.
Our first weekend in DC, we were visited by one of my best friends, Brandon, which was lucky, since he got to see DC before the government shutdown. We were able to stay with my grandma Annie at my brothers' Dwayne and Christopher's
apartment in DC. They have an amazing apartment with a great view. We were also able to go to Baltimore in Maryland and Gettysburg Battlefield in Pennsylvania. Our second, and last, weekend we got to see my grandparents, who live on Martha's Vineyard. My grandma Ethel is 90-years old and still kicking with the help of my grandpa Ralph. I also got to meet my brother R.J. for the first time ever, which was amazing. It was incredibly emotional and something I've dreamed of my whole life.
After spending so much time with so much family it was hard to say goodbye, but after 13 short days, we had to say goodbye again and leave for our next destination: Poland (via Reykjavik, Copenhagen, Berlin).
Since the flights weren't as long as our original flights from Jakarta, we didn't get as tired, and generally everything went rather smoothly. We were only in Reykjavik for about an hour, and I was worried we would miss the connection (but we didn't). The Copenhagen airport was incredibly expensive. We had about 7 hours for our layover, so we bought some lunch and spent almost 50USD for two sandwiches and two drinks. It was about 9 p.m. when we got into Berlin and, luckily, our boss agreed to pick us up and take us to our new home. We got to Kostrzyn just before midnight and decided to unpack. We checked four bags at the airport and the TSA went through three of them. Apparently it's suspicious to fly from DC to Berlin with four checked bags.
Once we unpacked almost everything, we were finally able to sleep....and start to enjoy the honeymoon phase of life in Poland.
Visiting DC, was actually a bit of a culture shock. As much as we love the friends we made in Jakarta, Jakarta wasn't the easiest place to live. The macet, banjir dan polusi, in Jakarta made for a love/hate relationship: I loved the people, but hated the city. So when we were walking around DC, Alexander and I made some interesting comments, such as "Wow, it's great to breath", "Look! We can walk on the sidewalk" and "Wait, where are the motorbikes?". Other people also noticed our culture shock when we were amazed at the selection in the grocery store and accidentally said terima kasih.
 |
| with Brandon |
 |
| in Baltimore |
apartment in DC. They have an amazing apartment with a great view. We were also able to go to Baltimore in Maryland and Gettysburg Battlefield in Pennsylvania. Our second, and last, weekend we got to see my grandparents, who live on Martha's Vineyard. My grandma Ethel is 90-years old and still kicking with the help of my grandpa Ralph. I also got to meet my brother R.J. for the first time ever, which was amazing. It was incredibly emotional and something I've dreamed of my whole life.
 |
| with RJ |
After spending so much time with so much family it was hard to say goodbye, but after 13 short days, we had to say goodbye again and leave for our next destination: Poland (via Reykjavik, Copenhagen, Berlin).
Since the flights weren't as long as our original flights from Jakarta, we didn't get as tired, and generally everything went rather smoothly. We were only in Reykjavik for about an hour, and I was worried we would miss the connection (but we didn't). The Copenhagen airport was incredibly expensive. We had about 7 hours for our layover, so we bought some lunch and spent almost 50USD for two sandwiches and two drinks. It was about 9 p.m. when we got into Berlin and, luckily, our boss agreed to pick us up and take us to our new home. We got to Kostrzyn just before midnight and decided to unpack. We checked four bags at the airport and the TSA went through three of them. Apparently it's suspicious to fly from DC to Berlin with four checked bags.
Once we unpacked almost everything, we were finally able to sleep....and start to enjoy the honeymoon phase of life in Poland.
Wednesday, September 11, 2013
September 11
I was thirteen years old. I had managed to oversleep and miss the bus to school, but, luckily for me, my mom wasn’t working that morning, so she gave me a ride. For some reason, the radio was turned off in the car. I don’t know why. I always remember listening to MIX 101.9 or POWER 105.7 when we were in the car, but that day there was no music.
It was silent.
When I arrived to school, my first period English class was nearly over. Everyone was standing around the one computer in the classroom reading about something, but I didn’t know what. I asked a friend what had happened. He said, “A plane crashed into the World Trade Center.”
I laughed.
The thirteen-year-old me didn’t really know what the World Trade Center was, nor that it was synonymous with the Twin Towers. The thirteen-year-old me didn’t make the connection between the New York City skyline and the World Trade Center. The thirteen-year-old me laughed at the fact that someone had accidentally crashed a plane into a big building.
I didn’t realize it wasn’t an accident.
By the time I got to second period, I started to hear the words “attack” and “terrorism”. Then I started to remember images of the Oklahoma City Bombing, which was much closer to my backyard. I wasn’t laughing anymore. I started to feel scared. In third period, my art teacher was desperately trying to reach his father who worked in the World Trade Center. He finally got through to discover his father hadn’t gone to work that day.
He was one of the lucky ones.
I remember very little about the rest of that day. My family had to go shopping and all the televisions in the store had Wolf Blitzer on CNN reporting the events of the day. The cashier highlighted that the date was 911, the same as the emergency phone number. The main thing I remember is the fear I felt. Fear of the future. Fear of the unknown.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
In the days after September 11, 2001, there was a great fervor of patriotism among Americans, but there was also something very dangerous starting to brew. The government quickly named Osama Bin Laden and Al Qaida as the culprits, but somehow the whole of Islam got sucked in as well. Any person suspected of being even remotely linked to Islam was considered Al Qaida. It didn’t matter if the person was Muslim or not, if they had dark features, they were assumed terrorist until proven innocent.
Growing up in the heart of the “Bible Belt”, I didn’t meet a Muslim until five years after 9/11, when I was in University. She was my World Literatures professor. She was Syrian and wore a loose headscarf that was in constant danger of falling off her head. I remember thinking she was, for lack of a better word, cool and I was also astounded that she didn’t conform to the stereotypes I had associated with Muslim women.
I don’t know how I learned the stereotypes, whether it was in my school, the media or both, but I had come to consider Muslim women to be very weak. I didn’t associate them with knowledge in the least. However, my professor completely changed my outlook on Muslim women. She was strong, educated and, shockingly, empowered. I learned about literature in her class, but I also learned about the world and different cultures. We read excerpts from the Bible, the Torah, the Koran and the Bhagavad gita. We had discussions about different cultures and learned to see things through various cultural lenses. Yet the most surprising thing my professor did was to challenge our ethnocentric ideas about September 11.
On September 11, 2006, in honor of the moment of silence for the attacks on the World Trade Center, my professor reminded us of other events on September 11. September 11, 1943 saw the start of the liquidation of ghettos in Minsk and Lida by Nazis. September 11, 1973 was the Chilean coup which began a deadly dictatorship, lasting nearly two decades. In the one week of September 5-11, 2006, twenty Iraqi civilians, including men, women and children, were killed in the Iraq War.
These events were not mentioned by my professor to lessen the tragedy of the loss of nearly 3,000 people in the September 11, 2001 attacks. They were said to remind us that everyday tragedies around the world occur. Everyday another innocent life is taken. We should never forget the tragedy of the World Trade Center, but we should also not turn a blind eye to the tragedies that happen around the world, or make our tragedy somehow more important than the tragedies of other people.
Although the events of September 11, 2001 impacted me in ways I can never fully describe, or even fully understand, there have been many other more significant events that have shaped my world views. Today marks twelve years since the attacks on the World Trade Center, and seven years since I sat in that World Literature class. I have now traveled around the world and met people from many different backgrounds. In the past few years, I have become close friends with Muslims and I have lived in the largest Muslim populated country in the world. I don’t share the beliefs of my Muslim friends, but I have learned about what they actually believe.
My World Literature professor was the first to open my eyes and I have since been able to recognize that what happened that day had nothing to do with Islam. Just like what happened in the Crusades and the Inquisition had nothing to do with Christianity. All the violence of the world can be traced to individuals who simply don’t understand; individuals who turn messages of hope into messages of hate; individuals who would judge an entire people based on a few.
On this September 11th, I challenge you. Go out into the world. Learn about a new culture. Talk to a stranger with whom you think you have nothing in common. By building bridges of understanding, we can eliminate the power of a few individuals to destroy.
Together, we can create.
It was silent.
When I arrived to school, my first period English class was nearly over. Everyone was standing around the one computer in the classroom reading about something, but I didn’t know what. I asked a friend what had happened. He said, “A plane crashed into the World Trade Center.”
I laughed.
The thirteen-year-old me didn’t really know what the World Trade Center was, nor that it was synonymous with the Twin Towers. The thirteen-year-old me didn’t make the connection between the New York City skyline and the World Trade Center. The thirteen-year-old me laughed at the fact that someone had accidentally crashed a plane into a big building.
I didn’t realize it wasn’t an accident.
By the time I got to second period, I started to hear the words “attack” and “terrorism”. Then I started to remember images of the Oklahoma City Bombing, which was much closer to my backyard. I wasn’t laughing anymore. I started to feel scared. In third period, my art teacher was desperately trying to reach his father who worked in the World Trade Center. He finally got through to discover his father hadn’t gone to work that day.
He was one of the lucky ones.
I remember very little about the rest of that day. My family had to go shopping and all the televisions in the store had Wolf Blitzer on CNN reporting the events of the day. The cashier highlighted that the date was 911, the same as the emergency phone number. The main thing I remember is the fear I felt. Fear of the future. Fear of the unknown.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
In the days after September 11, 2001, there was a great fervor of patriotism among Americans, but there was also something very dangerous starting to brew. The government quickly named Osama Bin Laden and Al Qaida as the culprits, but somehow the whole of Islam got sucked in as well. Any person suspected of being even remotely linked to Islam was considered Al Qaida. It didn’t matter if the person was Muslim or not, if they had dark features, they were assumed terrorist until proven innocent.
Growing up in the heart of the “Bible Belt”, I didn’t meet a Muslim until five years after 9/11, when I was in University. She was my World Literatures professor. She was Syrian and wore a loose headscarf that was in constant danger of falling off her head. I remember thinking she was, for lack of a better word, cool and I was also astounded that she didn’t conform to the stereotypes I had associated with Muslim women.
I don’t know how I learned the stereotypes, whether it was in my school, the media or both, but I had come to consider Muslim women to be very weak. I didn’t associate them with knowledge in the least. However, my professor completely changed my outlook on Muslim women. She was strong, educated and, shockingly, empowered. I learned about literature in her class, but I also learned about the world and different cultures. We read excerpts from the Bible, the Torah, the Koran and the Bhagavad gita. We had discussions about different cultures and learned to see things through various cultural lenses. Yet the most surprising thing my professor did was to challenge our ethnocentric ideas about September 11.
On September 11, 2006, in honor of the moment of silence for the attacks on the World Trade Center, my professor reminded us of other events on September 11. September 11, 1943 saw the start of the liquidation of ghettos in Minsk and Lida by Nazis. September 11, 1973 was the Chilean coup which began a deadly dictatorship, lasting nearly two decades. In the one week of September 5-11, 2006, twenty Iraqi civilians, including men, women and children, were killed in the Iraq War.
These events were not mentioned by my professor to lessen the tragedy of the loss of nearly 3,000 people in the September 11, 2001 attacks. They were said to remind us that everyday tragedies around the world occur. Everyday another innocent life is taken. We should never forget the tragedy of the World Trade Center, but we should also not turn a blind eye to the tragedies that happen around the world, or make our tragedy somehow more important than the tragedies of other people.
Although the events of September 11, 2001 impacted me in ways I can never fully describe, or even fully understand, there have been many other more significant events that have shaped my world views. Today marks twelve years since the attacks on the World Trade Center, and seven years since I sat in that World Literature class. I have now traveled around the world and met people from many different backgrounds. In the past few years, I have become close friends with Muslims and I have lived in the largest Muslim populated country in the world. I don’t share the beliefs of my Muslim friends, but I have learned about what they actually believe.
My World Literature professor was the first to open my eyes and I have since been able to recognize that what happened that day had nothing to do with Islam. Just like what happened in the Crusades and the Inquisition had nothing to do with Christianity. All the violence of the world can be traced to individuals who simply don’t understand; individuals who turn messages of hope into messages of hate; individuals who would judge an entire people based on a few.
On this September 11th, I challenge you. Go out into the world. Learn about a new culture. Talk to a stranger with whom you think you have nothing in common. By building bridges of understanding, we can eliminate the power of a few individuals to destroy.
Together, we can create.
Saturday, August 24, 2013
Jacque in Jakarta: The Last Month
One month from today, Alexander and I will be finishing our year-long contract here in Jakarta. The original plan was to renew for another year. We planned to live in Jakarta for one more year. We planned to dodge motorbikes, breathe in pollution and circumnavigate holes in the sidewalks for one more year. We planned to spend more time with our friends, have dinner out a few times a week and get massages for under five dollars for one more year.
That was our plan. But life isn't something you can always plan.
After much thought, long talks and a lot of prayer, Alexander and I decided we need to be closer to our families. This doesn't mean we'll be living in anyone's backyard. But there's a big difference between a 9-hour flight and a 24-hour flight. There's also the complication of exit visas here in Indonesia, which don't exist in Europe.
So we've decided to return to Europe, Poland to be exact. This wasn't a decision left to chance. Over the course of a week, we sent out about thirty applications around the world. By around the world, I mean: Indonesia, China, Taiwan, Thailand, Turkey, Ukraine, Poland, Germany, France, Spain and Morocco. Out of all those positions in all those countries, there was only one school that offered an acceptable package for both of us: Poland.
It will be a bit of a culture shock for us to go from a city of over 17 million people to a town of around 10,000. We also aren't completely prepared to go from temperatures of 40°C (104°F) to 25°C (77°F). It will additionally take some getting used to going from Indonesian Rupiah to Polish Zloty. But I think we're ready for the change, and it's a decision that is best for us at this time.
In the meantime, we still have a month left in Jakarta. I don't want to get upset about leaving my friends, but instead I want to enjoy the time we have left together. It's not "goodbye", Jakarta, it's "see you later".
That was our plan. But life isn't something you can always plan.
After much thought, long talks and a lot of prayer, Alexander and I decided we need to be closer to our families. This doesn't mean we'll be living in anyone's backyard. But there's a big difference between a 9-hour flight and a 24-hour flight. There's also the complication of exit visas here in Indonesia, which don't exist in Europe.
So we've decided to return to Europe, Poland to be exact. This wasn't a decision left to chance. Over the course of a week, we sent out about thirty applications around the world. By around the world, I mean: Indonesia, China, Taiwan, Thailand, Turkey, Ukraine, Poland, Germany, France, Spain and Morocco. Out of all those positions in all those countries, there was only one school that offered an acceptable package for both of us: Poland.It will be a bit of a culture shock for us to go from a city of over 17 million people to a town of around 10,000. We also aren't completely prepared to go from temperatures of 40°C (104°F) to 25°C (77°F). It will additionally take some getting used to going from Indonesian Rupiah to Polish Zloty. But I think we're ready for the change, and it's a decision that is best for us at this time.
In the meantime, we still have a month left in Jakarta. I don't want to get upset about leaving my friends, but instead I want to enjoy the time we have left together. It's not "goodbye", Jakarta, it's "see you later".
Tuesday, August 13, 2013
Jacque in Jakarta: 10 signs you're an Expat in Jakarta
After nearly a year of living in Jakarta, I've started to become acclimated with parts of the culture I originally took issue with. Here's a list of ten things that any expat in Jakarta can relate to (and may be a sign you've lived here too long). In no particular order:
1. You think outside your front door is the appropriate place to store shoes
When we first arrived to Jakarta, we were surprised to see a shoe store outside our neighbors' apartments and vowed we would never leave our shoes outside of our apartment. Fast forward ten months and you will find the bulk of our shoes outside our front door. At first we may have had a fear of theft, but then we realized that nobody is going to steal a pair of Payless shoes.
2. You have Batik for every day of the week
Batik is the traditional clothing from Indonesia. Each region has its own distinct design of Batik. Normally on Fridays, people are allowed to wear Batik to their workplace. When we first arrived, we were entirely Batik-less, but over time we have purchased Batik and received Batik as gifts from Indonesian friends. Now, we can wear Batik just about every day of the week in order to feel like a 'local'.
3. You own a pair of knock-off Crocs
Flooding is common in Jakarta during rainy season, and even in dry season there can be monsoon storms. Therefore, Crocs are quite useful since they dry quickly and have a firm grip on wet surfaces. I held out for a long time, but finally found my pair of purple crocs for a bargain price of 50,000 IDR ($5.00).
4. 'Banjir', 'macet' and 'demo' are part of your active vocabulary
Upon arrival to Jakarta, even if you don't speak a word of Indonesian, you will quickly learn that 'banjir' means flood, 'macet' means traffic jam and 'demo' means protest. When Indonesians have asked me about my experience in Jakarta, I usually respond with these three words and they laugh, knowingly.
5. When you see a white person, your first thought is, "Bule!"
In our first week of living in Jakarta, I lost track of how many times someone shouted "Bule!" 'Bule' (Boo-lay) is a term for white Westerners. Generally, it is not meant as an insult, but it can be challenging to our Western sensibilities of racism. After so much time here, I get excited when I see other white people and inadvertently say, "Oh, look! It's a Bule!"
6. You spend at least one day a week at a mall
Something we learned quickly is the cost of land here is so exuberant that restaurants, clothing stores and most other stores have to set up shop in a mall. It is difficult to find free-standing restaurants or shops, so most weekends or free days are spent in a mall. As a friend of mine said, Jakarta is the city of a hundred malls, so you can really find anything and everything you need in a Jakarta mall.
7. You've been hit/nearly hit by a motorbike at least once
Walking to work or the store is always an adventurous experience. As I've mentioned in previous posts, the sidewalks leave much to be desired, and motorbikes don't seem to understand the concept of pedestrians on sidewalks or one-way streets being one-way. If nothing else, I have learned to ALWAYS look both ways in Jakarta, even if you THINK you're on a one-way street.
8. You have at least one epic story of a horrible taxi driver
Countless times we've had taxi drivers racially profile us as being rich and so they have taken advantage of us in numerous ways. Sometimes they offer to take us on a toll road that is 30 minutes out of the way. Other times they'll take a 'short cut' that extends our ride considerably. My favorite story is when the taxi driver insisted that there would be more traffic because of the Lebaron holiday (The holiday in which Jakarta is practically empty). The best advice I could give to newbies is to have a map and insist on the route you know. After a while you can explain in Indonesian, "Saya tidak bodoh".
9. You consider four people on a motorbike to be normal
The first time I saw five people on a motorbike, my jaw dropped. Now, I consider a motorbike to be a family vehicle, suitable for the same number of people as can fit in a sedan.
10. Your diet contains more 'nasi' than bread
I have always enjoyed eating rice, which I consider a bonus for coming to Indonesia. The first time we bought a 5kg bag of rice, I thought it would last us the rest of the year. A month later I was worried that I didn't have enough rice for dinner.
There are many other signs to be shared, but these have been my main experiences. For those of you in the same situation, I hope you've enjoyed the post. For those of you who don't get it, just come to Jakarta for a few months.
1. You think outside your front door is the appropriate place to store shoes
 |
| The shoe gallery down the hall |
2. You have Batik for every day of the week
 |
| A glimpse of our Batik collection |
3. You own a pair of knock-off Crocs
Flooding is common in Jakarta during rainy season, and even in dry season there can be monsoon storms. Therefore, Crocs are quite useful since they dry quickly and have a firm grip on wet surfaces. I held out for a long time, but finally found my pair of purple crocs for a bargain price of 50,000 IDR ($5.00).
4. 'Banjir', 'macet' and 'demo' are part of your active vocabulary
 |
| That string of lights is all cars |
 |
| Free swimming pool! |
Upon arrival to Jakarta, even if you don't speak a word of Indonesian, you will quickly learn that 'banjir' means flood, 'macet' means traffic jam and 'demo' means protest. When Indonesians have asked me about my experience in Jakarta, I usually respond with these three words and they laugh, knowingly.
5. When you see a white person, your first thought is, "Bule!"
 |
| The only Bules in the village |
6. You spend at least one day a week at a mall
 |
| One of the many Jakartan shopping destinations |
7. You've been hit/nearly hit by a motorbike at least once
Walking to work or the store is always an adventurous experience. As I've mentioned in previous posts, the sidewalks leave much to be desired, and motorbikes don't seem to understand the concept of pedestrians on sidewalks or one-way streets being one-way. If nothing else, I have learned to ALWAYS look both ways in Jakarta, even if you THINK you're on a one-way street.
8. You have at least one epic story of a horrible taxi driver
 |
| The "reliable" taxi company |
9. You consider four people on a motorbike to be normal
 |
| A regular family vehicle |
10. Your diet contains more 'nasi' than bread
I have always enjoyed eating rice, which I consider a bonus for coming to Indonesia. The first time we bought a 5kg bag of rice, I thought it would last us the rest of the year. A month later I was worried that I didn't have enough rice for dinner.
There are many other signs to be shared, but these have been my main experiences. For those of you in the same situation, I hope you've enjoyed the post. For those of you who don't get it, just come to Jakarta for a few months.
Sunday, May 26, 2013
Jacque in Jakarta: Cultural Pollution
Jakarta is home to one of the most polluted rivers in the world, Citarum (pronounced "Chi-ta-room"). People who used to fish for fish are now forced to fish for plastic because all the fish have died. There has been a push to clean-up Citarum, but simply clearing the debris is not going to address the root of the problem. In order to solve the issue of pollution, the mindset of the people must be changed.
During my first week in Jakarta, I was astonished to see a taxi driver roll down his window and throw a plastic wrapper out his window. I was surprised to see an elderly woman throw her trash on the floor of an angkot. I was disappointed to see children throwing emply soda bottles onto the road. As long as these occurances are deemed normal, there will not be a solution to the ever-increasing problem of pollution.
It might not be popular to voice this opinion, but the people of Jakarta have to open their eyes and see they are destroying themselves. The people have to realize that constantly littering leads to the numerous, damaging, sometimes deadly, floods. If Indonesia wants to participate on a world scale, then they have to make progress concerning their outlook on pollution. Just because your grandmother did it, doesn't mean it is right. Come into the twenty-first century, Jakarta. Stand up for your city, tell people to stop littering now. Stop littering before more lives are needlessly lost.
Sunday, February 24, 2013
Jacque in Jakarta: Pollution and Political Correctness
Since I haven't written in nearly a month, I decided I would catch up by giving a double dose of insights.
After the floods last month, we had an interesting point of view from our apartment. Once the water had finally receded, it left the river looking like this:
Yes, that pile of trash is actually the river. The heavy rains pushed all of the litter into the river, and the river carried it to this bridge. The next logical question is, 'Where did all the litter come from?'
The answer is that here in Jakarta, people have a different idea about littering. In the West, we are given fines if we throw trash on the ground, and even if we're not caught, the people around us think we are slobs. Here in Jakarta, there doesn't seem to be fines for littering and, in general, it seems to be a natural way of life. I've seen children throwing candy wrappers on the sidewalks, taxi drivers throwing bottles out of their windows and even an elderly women of about 70 throwing her used tissue on the floor of the angkot.
My students seem to realize that this isn't healthy for their environment, but when asked about it they simply accept defeat. They complain about people littering, but say nothing about it. It's as if they have accepted that this is the way it is, and therefore it's the way it always will be. Speaking of 'the way it is' leads me to my next topic.
In the West, it is generally understood that you never ask a person, especially a lady, the person's age. Additionally, marital status is something you find out from general conversation as opposed to flat out asking if someone is married. In Jakarta, the first question people ask upon meeting you is your age. The second question is about your marital status. If you are not married, they ask why you're not married. If you are married, they ask how many children you have. If you are married and don't have children, they ask why you don't have children.
Here, it seems to be understood that people, especially women, get married in their early twenties and start having babies in their first year of marriage. If you are single or childless, there's something wrong with you. This Western idea of having a career before thinking about marriage or saving money to have children seems to be lost here.
Whether or not I agree is another matter. It is simply a different way of thinking, and I suppose as long as I am a Jakartan resident I have to accept 'the way it is'. But no worries to my Western friends and family. I won't be practicing littering and I don't intend to pick up the habit of asking taboo questions any time soon.
After the floods last month, we had an interesting point of view from our apartment. Once the water had finally receded, it left the river looking like this:
Yes, that pile of trash is actually the river. The heavy rains pushed all of the litter into the river, and the river carried it to this bridge. The next logical question is, 'Where did all the litter come from?'
The answer is that here in Jakarta, people have a different idea about littering. In the West, we are given fines if we throw trash on the ground, and even if we're not caught, the people around us think we are slobs. Here in Jakarta, there doesn't seem to be fines for littering and, in general, it seems to be a natural way of life. I've seen children throwing candy wrappers on the sidewalks, taxi drivers throwing bottles out of their windows and even an elderly women of about 70 throwing her used tissue on the floor of the angkot.
My students seem to realize that this isn't healthy for their environment, but when asked about it they simply accept defeat. They complain about people littering, but say nothing about it. It's as if they have accepted that this is the way it is, and therefore it's the way it always will be. Speaking of 'the way it is' leads me to my next topic.
In the West, it is generally understood that you never ask a person, especially a lady, the person's age. Additionally, marital status is something you find out from general conversation as opposed to flat out asking if someone is married. In Jakarta, the first question people ask upon meeting you is your age. The second question is about your marital status. If you are not married, they ask why you're not married. If you are married, they ask how many children you have. If you are married and don't have children, they ask why you don't have children.
Here, it seems to be understood that people, especially women, get married in their early twenties and start having babies in their first year of marriage. If you are single or childless, there's something wrong with you. This Western idea of having a career before thinking about marriage or saving money to have children seems to be lost here.
Whether or not I agree is another matter. It is simply a different way of thinking, and I suppose as long as I am a Jakartan resident I have to accept 'the way it is'. But no worries to my Western friends and family. I won't be practicing littering and I don't intend to pick up the habit of asking taboo questions any time soon.
Sunday, October 21, 2012
Jacque in Jakarta: The appliances in my apartment
It's been nearly a month since Alex and I arrived in Jakarta. We're slowly getting through our shock and sliding into the initial adjustment of our culture shock. One of the things that is taking us a while to adjust to is our appliances.
I've grown accustomed to not having a tumble dryer whenever I go abroad. Most places I've lived outside of the U.S. are much more environmentally conscious and therefore don't want to waste the energy that a tumble dryer uses. However, I've always had the luxury of a washing machine that is hooked into the plumbing. Here, it's a bit different.
In order to use the washing machine correctly, there are two hoses that need to be used. The green hose is for the ingoing water, and the white hose is for the outgoing water. The green hose is attatched to the bathroom faucet on one end and the back of the machine on the other. The white hose is attached to the bottom of the machine where the waste water is dispelled on one end, and on the other end it is in the shower drain. The tricky part is using the machine without having water go all over the place.
The first step is to correctly attatch the hoses. One time the white hose wasn't firmly attatched to the bottom of the machine and the waste water went all over our apartment. The next step is to turn on the water to fill the machine through the green hose. If the water isn't turned off on time, the pressure of the water causes the hose to fly off the machine and then water goes everywhere. The water from the green hose is used to fill the machine and then used to rinse the clothes, so it's used twice. Lastly, there is a pot under the green hose because it usually leaks. The first time we did laundry, we didn't realize it would leak and, once again, water went everywhere.
Not only is the washing machine a bit wonky, our air conditioner usually leaks if it's been on too long. So, when we go to bed we turn it on and as soon as we wake up we usually have to turn it off so it won't leak. Also, there is no hot water, so we've been taking cold showers for a month.
However, I can't complain too much. Next week we'll be moving to a new apartment with hot water and an a/c in the living room. Also, I should be happy to at least have a washing machine and running water. Afterall, I'd hate to be accused of suffering from FWP.
I've grown accustomed to not having a tumble dryer whenever I go abroad. Most places I've lived outside of the U.S. are much more environmentally conscious and therefore don't want to waste the energy that a tumble dryer uses. However, I've always had the luxury of a washing machine that is hooked into the plumbing. Here, it's a bit different.
In order to use the washing machine correctly, there are two hoses that need to be used. The green hose is for the ingoing water, and the white hose is for the outgoing water. The green hose is attatched to the bathroom faucet on one end and the back of the machine on the other. The white hose is attached to the bottom of the machine where the waste water is dispelled on one end, and on the other end it is in the shower drain. The tricky part is using the machine without having water go all over the place.The first step is to correctly attatch the hoses. One time the white hose wasn't firmly attatched to the bottom of the machine and the waste water went all over our apartment. The next step is to turn on the water to fill the machine through the green hose. If the water isn't turned off on time, the pressure of the water causes the hose to fly off the machine and then water goes everywhere. The water from the green hose is used to fill the machine and then used to rinse the clothes, so it's used twice. Lastly, there is a pot under the green hose because it usually leaks. The first time we did laundry, we didn't realize it would leak and, once again, water went everywhere.
Not only is the washing machine a bit wonky, our air conditioner usually leaks if it's been on too long. So, when we go to bed we turn it on and as soon as we wake up we usually have to turn it off so it won't leak. Also, there is no hot water, so we've been taking cold showers for a month.
However, I can't complain too much. Next week we'll be moving to a new apartment with hot water and an a/c in the living room. Also, I should be happy to at least have a washing machine and running water. Afterall, I'd hate to be accused of suffering from FWP.
Tuesday, October 5, 2010
It's not culture shock, it's just depression
I've been to Europe about half a dozen times, and I've never really experienced the "typical" culture shock. Although it varies from person to person, I really can't say I've ever felt it completely. Of course there have been times when I get frustrated with German bureaucracy or wish I could meet more people, but I've never idealized one culture over another. There are times that I miss things like cheddar cheese or mexican food or being able to shop 24/7, but I've never missed "home" so much that it's debilitating. In general, I try to make the best out of any situation by smiling when I want to cry, and laughing when I want to scream. With all that, the past few weeks have been very emotional for me. I've allowed myself to wonder if I would feel any different were I still back home, but I know my location has little to do with my problems.
Six teenage boys killed themselves in the past few weeks because they were bullied for being "different". In these cases, different means gay. They ranged from age 13-18, they were just children. They were tortured for being who they are, and in the end they felt the only option they had was to take their own life. On top of all the other personal issues I've had on my mind, these boys' stories have been in the front of my mind and heart. I remember being 14-years old, and keeping it a secret that I had a girlfriend. I knew that I would be bullied and shunned if classmates found out. After a month, I left her for a boy. Being bisexual is both a blessing and a curse. For years I was able to avoid persecution because I focused on my attraction toward men, but there was still a part of me that I was denying by not accepting who I was. But these brave boys did not try to hide who they were. They were not ashamed, because they had nothing to be ashamed of. There are, however, people who should be ashamed. The bullies should be ashamed. The parents who raised their children with such backward ideology should be ashamed. The educators who did nothing to promote a safe, open, welcoming environment should be ashamed. The politicians who say gays have no place in our military and no right to a happy marriage with the person they love should be ashamed. The religious leaders who use the pulpit to preach hate should be ashamed.
I know that eventually I'll work my way out of this rut, but hearing about these tragedies makes it challenging for me. I hope that everyone makes an effort to educate people and show compassion. In the end, I am blessed to have a supportive and loving group of family and friends who accept me regardless of who I love.
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