Karaoke

Audi and his friend picked Hillary and me up. We walked in the private karaoke room and waited as they put small sanitary caps on the tips of the microphones. We argued over whom would sing first and Audi’s friend was given the mike. He had a good, strong voice. I went to the bathroom and came back in the middle of a charming rendition of “The SMS Song.” Hillary and Audi were singing and the other guy was holding a cigarette in one hand, swiveling his svelte hips and making loud “rrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr” calls while yelling out the words! All this with no narcotics involved. Things got better and better with an interesting tribute to the Black Eyed Peas’ “My Humps.” Imagine two Muslim men singing “you got me spendin’ all my money on you…on your humps, your humps.” Also imagine a tight-space with lots of kretek cigarettes-smoking. All added up to lots fun.

Hillary and I tried to sing “Fast Car,”by Tracy Chapman but it was an odd sped-up version with extra verses that were not in the original. To add to the confusion, the graphics behind the text on the screen showed some 80s-era German leiderhausen dancers lifting up their feet, playing the accordian and twirling around. The man had incredibly short-shorts and every time they closed in on his legs, we couldn’t stop laughing.
Audi’s friend started losing his voice but we convinced him to sing another song. He sang in this high falsetto, which sounded like a cross between a woman and a demented baby. I was laughing so hard I had tear pouring from my eyes.

Some Ups

There are certainly up and downs, and I’ll be frank about that. Sitting around at school doing absolutely nothing on Tuesdays has gotten old. I bring my labtop and surf the web at a snail’s pace with our wireless internet service. Today I looked over the other ETAs blogs and got inspired to write more, even though I think my mom may be my only reader.

Sometimes I’m really up and sometimes I am quite the opposite. On Sunday, I had a really up day. I was visiting with some other ETAs, and then just one and her Indonesian friend from a small city west of here. He had invited his friends as well and we rode up to Merapi in his car listening to dangdut, Indonesian “country” music all the way. The guys stopped the car at a small moshollah to pray. My fellow ETA and I looked at the green corn fields and watched children play while we waited for the men to finish. Andrew had worn a red shirt and covered it with a jacket to appease me primarilily as the locals say one should not wear red by near Merapi or it might explode.

There was a deep fog as we reached the top of the hill leading to Merapi. The parking attendant handed us surgical masks to wear and we walked up a slope to see the huge rock formations and weird muddy portions and houses, which had been covered in dirt and debree. Everyone in the area had been evacuated except one man, Mbah Marijan, who is the protector of Merapi and was not killed when he stayed behind. We took photos of the eerie scene and I had my friend poke her head out of a hole in a concrete wall. I started feeling bad about somehow making light of a sad situation but then walked around a corner and saw some young Indonesians taking photos of each other in front of dilapidated houses. And all the while, one of our other friends giggled crazily with his friends. I like the way Indonesians deal with tragedy…they balance it out with humor and laughter.

The dark started to decend and we sat at a small warung to drink some tea and eat some tangos, these delicious chocolate wafers. We got back in the car and headed back down the hills to Yogya. Our driver, the giggler, was excellent. He was as aggressive as, in my estimation, he had to be but did not honk excessively, tailgate motorcyclists or pass other cars on blind curves like 90% of other drivers. Needless to say, I was impressed. I was also impressed that he was not stressed out by the driving by the time we reached Yogya again. Every time I get in a car, it reminds me why I don’t want to drive anything here.

We went to a bak pia factory to for my friend to get some oleh-oleh to take back to her co-workers. We got to sample hot bak pia straight from the oven and it convinced me to reconsider my former distaste for it. It was delicious when still fresh.

After that we went to dinner with the guys and their parents at Pizza Hut and I had a strange (and silly) conversation about bak pia pizza with the giggler, whom I sat across from. The guys drove us back and shook our hands while still bumpin’ the dangdut. When we got to my place, my friend and I talked about all the places we would like to travel in the future.

SMSing Up a Storm

What we in the US call a text, Indonesians call an SMS. Since calling anyone is astronomically expensive, people spend all day with their fingertips dancing on cell phone keys to form messages for friends on their cell phones. This is acceptable in any occasion: while on your motorcycle, while driving your land rover, while giving a presentation, while in a business meeting. There is even a dangdut song entitled the SMS song.

I want to take a moment to appreciate--not hate-- on some nice sms messages I’ve recently received. These Indonesians, they sure know how to make you feel good over the phone, and just with something less advanced than email!

Some Excerpts:
Hi how re u today? im fine….sweet dream willow….,keep smiling.

From someone I had just met and texted:
Ya nice to meet u to. sorry I just read ur sms, … n just finished taking a bath. Everytime u need informations about city, people, place in Indonesia, u can sms me. Ok if I will travel I will invite you, if you’re ready, hahaha…..

From one of my teacher friends:
Willow, sory 2 tell u that I hv dizzy 2day. Perhaps I cant taste ur delicious fried rice. I hv 2 stay in bed ;(

Hai Mbak, there’s a bad news:( my bike still in coma 2day , n d doctor says,she’ll be on d surgery room on Sunday,:( so, we cant go 2 tamansari yet. 4give me plz:-(

Hello Willow,, how R u?When will we meet again?

After thanking a friend for taking me around:
Don’t mention that. Thnx Anyway. I just want u 2 enjoy every minutes in Jogyakrta. That’s wat frens r 4….

Although my arm aches after a day of communicating and I wish I could just pick up the phone and use it the way it was meant to be used, sms messages do have a spot in my heart. Messages like the ones above can sure change my mood when I’ve had a shitty day; say, men honking at me on the street and looking me up and down, naked women yelling at me in Javanese in the street, almost getting run over…and then, a sweet text message at bed time. Nothing like it to change my mood.