Today, I had a piranha pedicure

... and I didn't like it. Not a bit. Yet I kept putting my feet back in the water. I wanted to be able to say that I'd done it. Fish therapy, that is. You see fish spas all around Indonesia. Some are fancy and you pay $6 for an hour of therapy. The one where my friends and I went was $2 for 30 minutes. And the ponds were in the hallway of one of the local malls.

I've often walked by these ponds, looked at the locals sitting there totally relaxed, as if there really aren't about a million little fish stuck to their feet and legs. OK. Not a million. But those suckers know how to vie for a piece of property.

Like I said, I just couldn't keep my feet in the water. I tried. I may have kept them in for 15 seconds at the most. But the constant nibbling sensation was just eerie. (It's actually sucking, not nibbling, really. Those suckers don't have teeth.) An hour after the therapy, it still felt like I had fish nibbling/sucking at my skin.

I kid you not.

It was an impromptu decision to do it as a treat for one of my colleagues' birthdays. We've all been curious about it, but no-one wanted to do it alone. Had we planned to go, I would've taken my camera. I'd go back with friends simply to take photos, not to put my feet back in the water.

Granted, they're not piranhas. They're garra rufa, or "red log suckers." Or doctor fish. Call them what you may, having them suck at my skin gave me the heebie-jeebies!

"Really? Avocado on your sandwich?"

Today, when my kids were finally down for their short nap, I was able to head out for a quick bite to eat at one of our school's 6 cafes. They're called cafes, that's right. Not cafeterias. You get served food on nice, colored plates. And some of the cafes have the most beautiful decor. I'll post photos sometime.

But that's not my point.

I decided to head to the Middle School Gaja Madah building. (Our buildings have names, not designations. You'll understand when you see the photos.) This building has traditional Indonesian decor, and the cafe serves Indonesian dishes in addition to the regular pastas, rice/chicken dishes, salad bar etc.

I wanted a grilled chicken panini.

Then I noticed avocado on display. "Ah! Could you add some avocado to that, please?" I politely asked.

"Avocado? You want avocado on your sandwich?"

"Yes, please." (I thought maybe the avocado was just part of a display, judging from the response.)

"The avocado is for juice bar. Not sandwich."

"Yes, but can I please have avocado on my sandwich?" I smiled. And thought how utterly unappealing an avocado drink is to me!

(Lots of talk among the Indonesian serving staff. And some frowns. And some shaking of heads, as in, "You bules* are very strange!")

The lady carefully put a couple of slices on my bread, and minutes later, I had the perfect panini. But as I sat at the Balinese-style table, enjoying my sandwich, I caught all the wait staff staring strangely at me... I smiled again, gave them a thumbs up, and gulped down the last few bites before rushing back to my crazy little kids.

Funny, isn't it, how some customs (or foods) seem oh-so-strange when transferred from one culture to another.

I cannot help but wonder if you've ever encountered something similar. Please share!

* Bule is the Indonesian term for gringo. Or waiguoren. Or crazy white people. :)

Forgot to upload these...

I was working on some school photo stuff, and realized that some of my personal photos had been downloaded to my work Mac, so I never got to share these. Enjoy!

When I was living and working downtown, I used to walk through the backstreets, past the homes of some of Jakarta's poorer population. I loved every time this old man was out on the street in the morning... The kids pay just a few cents for a ride on his fun-mobile. The little scooters rock back and forth, not powered by electricity but by the man peddling!

See the white powder on the face of the girl in the foreground? I was told parents put talcum powder on the kids' faces as part of the cleaning process. Since this is in the slums, you'd see the kids standing by the gutters many mornings, being washed down in public. Wash. Dry. Powder up!

The next two shots are from my visa trip to Singapore. This is the first view of Singapore's Marina Bay Sands Hotel as seen from my friends' apartment building (though not their own house, it is from the observation deck on the 50-something-eth floor.)

This is taken from the same spot, but looking at the hotel (and Singapore's many, many apartment blocks) as reflected in another high-rise building (the NTUC building, for those of you who know Singapore.)

Ch-ch-ch-changes!

My life seems to be perpetually changing. I don't care for change, really. Who does? But some of us do a bit better with changes coming our way. Or we choose them when we decide it's time.

Some changes in my life, I chose. Others, I fought off like the pest. Yet others, I simply accepted.

I chose to leave Kenya almost 2 years ago.

I wouldn't have minded not to leave Taiwan this summer, but career-wise, it was the right thing to do. I had gotten a really great job at a really great school in downtown Jakarta.

And so, a month into my new job, just when my 2-year-olds had gotten used to me and I to teaching really little ones, I was presented with a need at our school, which meant changes in my world, again.

Someone from our other campus (in the suburbs) had been asked to come to our campus to fill an interim position as principal. (Our principal had originally only agreed to get the school going and was supposed to have been back in Australia by the summer.) Which left the other person's position vacant. It's a K1 position--what we called KA in Taiwan, or what other schools call pre-Kindergarten. It's what I taught in Taiwan.

So I've been asked to move to our suburban campus (a huge, beautiful campus!) to take on that position. At our city campus, they will combine the three nursery classes into two.

Seeing that I do not wish to spend hours on the road every day along with 3 million other commuters (read: major traffic congestion), I will be moving to a home close to school.

I'll start my new job on Monday, and I'll move as soon as I have curtains and furniture for my new house.

Though I really didn't anticipate having to face changes at this stage, I can honestly say that I am happy to be working with 4-year-olds again, to be able to use the experience I gained in Taiwan and build upon that. For the educators: Ours is an IB school, and we follow the Primary Years Program, which is new to me, but it'll be great to learn and gain PYP experience!

I am sad to leave my young'uns in the city. In the month I've spent with them, they've crept into my heart. I'm sad to leave the entire nursery team, as we've grown into a strong teaching team with a united vision for our kids. But working with 4-year-olds will be a more appropriate challenge for me, so I am also excited about the changes ahead.

What a journey! Never a dull moment, eh?

Life's a Journey

This morning, I boarded a small plane out of Cedar Rapids, Iowa, for a journey of more than 30 hours to my next destination: Jakarta, Indonesia. Over the past few days, one item after the next got checked off my to-do list. All that really remains is to transition well to a new country, a new culture, a new world. Not that that was on the written list. Just the mental one.

It's a tricky business, at times, this international life. Moving back to Taiwan 16 months ago was easy. I knew the city, the language, even some people. I knew where to go for the best dumplings. I knew that I loved Chinese food, and I knew where to go to escape the busy-ness of the city.

This weekend's transition is different. I've never been to Indonesia, let alone Jakarta. I know no Indonesian words (yet). I know little about the culture which will inevitably become part of my most certainly affect my worldview.

But I will learn. Of that, I am sure. I'm sure I'll come to love Jakarta and its people. Over and over, friends who have been there emphasize how amazing Indonesian people are. They're super friendly, I am told. I've also read that no matter what, they smile. Even when trying to solve a problem. I'll have to remember that. I'll also have to remember that Indonesians never use their left hand to give or receive anything.

I look forward to discover for myself what makes Indonesians unique. I know enough not to make blanket statements about a culture based on interactions with one or two people. No stereotyping, right?

And so, as I set off for this new chapter, I am excited to see what I'll learn about my new home, about myself, about life itself. And about the Source of Life. I will blog, occasionally. Maybe you, too, will come to love the people and the places of Indonesia.

Life still is good, indeed.

For those who wonder, I will continue working on my dissertation, which has been put on hold for the summer and for the transition time.

Work

Some high school art students took photos around the school a few weeks ago. This is me in action. After lunch, the kids have reading time. Here, Sammy and Jedd had asked me to read them a story. I love the expression on Sammy's face! I'll definitely miss my kids!

Fire!

The kids got to visit a nearby fire station today. They got to spray water, put on a fireman's outfit, and even learned how to do CPR on a dummy.

Lots of fun. I only have 5.5 more days with these pumpkins. I'm really going to miss them!

Exhale

"Sit up straight. Pretend there's a string coming out the top of your head. It's pulling you even straighter .... and straighter ... Now, close your eyes... Take a deeeeeep breath. Hold it. P-p-p-p-p-p, blow if out slooooooowly. Again..."

This simple breathing exercise has been one of my favorite tricks to calm down my 16 pumpkins. It works like a bomb. Every time. Even with the squirmiest kid, whom I have come to believe is the real-life version of Dash in The Incredibles.

But that's actually beside the point.

As is the fact that my kids have been learning about the sense of hearing this week, and thus made drums, guitars, you name it. They've been making shakers and testing different sounds. It's been a noisy week.

Add to that the fact that my research class concluded this week, which meant that I ferociously worked on completing my dissertation proposal. Which I sent in this morning.

That concludes this busy, noisy week.

Submitting today's paper is a significant milestone insofar as my studies go, as this document forms the road map to completing my dissertation. In it, I had to spell out exactly what my dissertation will be about, and how I plan to address my research. It also includes a detailed timeline to help me stay on track. Chapter by chapter, month by month, it leads me all the way to graduation. If all goes well, I should be able to graduate next summer.

For the past several months, my classes have been dovetailing, even overlapping. I've not had a chance to legitimately take time off and not have another deadline looming.

Today was different.

I was able to exhale. Big time. It will be a few weeks before I get feedback from my professor regarding changes I should make to my proposal before submitting it to the academic affairs committee for their approval.

I went to see Daisy, my favorite stylist, for some color and a cut. I had dinner with friends and didn't have to head home to do a few assignments. I watched a mindless movie.

Inhale.

Exhale.

And then I made a little pile on my nightstand of books I want to read in preparation for my writing, while waiting for my first rewriting assignment.

The book at the very top? This one. Then this one. And this one. And this and this and this one.

Inhale.

Exhale.

Though it was great to have the chance to simply take a break today, this train has slowed down for just a brief moment.

Maybe I should ask my little Dash for some of his speed so I can zip through my work just like he zips through his. (I can hear his little voice so clearly: "Miss Booysen, I'm done! What can I do now?")

A year from now, I, too, should be able to say, "I'm done!" But I already know what I want to do after that. Go and relax on a beach in Hawaii with some good friends. And take along only books like this one.

Or maybe not.

(I have actually been reading some non-class-related books on the side, by the way. Finished up Stones into Schools this week, and recently also completed the sequel to Left to Tell, about the Rwandan genocide.)

Needless to say, the biggest bulk of goods to be shipped this week in preparation for my move? Books. Can't imagine life without them!

Give me the courage to live

Give me the courage to live!
Really live—not merely exist.
Live dangerously,
Scorning risk!
Live honestly,
Daring the truth—
Particularly the truth of myself!
Live resiliently—
Ever changing, ever growing, ever adapting.
Enduring the pain of change
As though ’twere the travail of birth.
Give me the courage to live,
Give me the strength to be free
And endure the burden of freedom
And the loneliness of those without chains;
Let me not be trapped by success,
Nor by failure, nor pleasure, nor grief,
Nor malice, nor praise, nor remorse!
Give me the courage to go on!
Facing all that waits on the trail—
Going eagerly, joyously on,
And paying my way as I go,
Without anger or fear or regret
Taking what life gives,
Spending myself to the full,
Head high, spirit winged—
On . . . on . . . till the shadows draw close.
Then even when darkness shuts down,
And I go out alone, as I came,
Naked and blind as I came—
Even then, gracious God, hear my prayer:
Give me the courage to live!

~ by Howard Thurman (1899-1981)
I used this poem to conclude my hermeneutics paper tonight. Hope you find as much inspiration in Thurman's words as I did.

Have you no scar?

Yesterday, I received heartbreaking news that dear friends of mine (from college days, we were in a music group together, and have kept in touch over the years and the oceans) were attacked this week. Their house was broken into (nothing unusual in South Africa). My friend was raped (sadly, also not unusual in SA). Her husband was taken hostage and made to drive their car out of their gated community, where he was then let go (rather unusual!)

What is also unusual about their ordeal is that Louis and Hettie, as public figures in South Africa (he is a famous gospel singer/songwriter, she a writer of parenting books), are not allowing this ordeal to rob them of their purpose in life, of pointing others to God.

As I've been praying for them, I thought of a poem by Amy Carmichael that has ministered greatly to me during difficult times.

Jesus speaks to us:

Have you no scar? No hidden scar on foot, or side, or hand?
I hear you sung as mighty in the land.
I hear them hail your bright ascendant star.
Have you no scar?
Have you no wound?

Yet, I was wounded by the archers, spent,
leaned me against the tree to die,
and rent -- by ravenous beasts that encompassed me
I swooned.
Have you no wound?
No wound? No scar?

Yes, as the master shall the servant be,
and pierced are the feet that follow Me,
but yours are whole.
Can he have followed far -- who has no wound? No scar?
Can she have followed far -- who has no wound? No scar?

If you would, please join me in praying for my friends as they continue to walk through this trial, and especially as they continue with the arrangements for Turn2God, a major prayer/praise event on March 6, something they've been working on for a while...