It’s come time for my last blog while still officially an active CAPI intern at CIPS and I’m not sure how to feel about it. It’s become so normal to be here that it hasn’t fully sunk in that I’ll really be leaving, without knowing when I’ll come back.
I opened up the document to start writing this in a cafe I’ve been to a few times. I came there by taking a Gojek or Grab bike. Just jumped on and said yes to using a helmet (“pake helm?”), put it on over the hair scarf I usually wear on the bikes, and we were off. At the cafe, I ordered a drink and a snack in Indonesian, and sat down to open up my laptop.
None of these things felt easy or natural at the beginning. I couldn’t even figure out how to unclip helmets for a couple of days. My first motorbike ride ever, I held onto the back with both hands for dear life. Now I sometimes forget to ask for a helmet if they forget to offer (Mom if you’re reading this, I’m joking), and I have been known to text while on the back of bikes which I remember thinking people were crazy for doing (kidding again Mom).
Somewhere along the way, I got so used to it all that I don’t know what it’ll be like for these things to not be a part of my daily life. When visiting Thailand, I had to stop myself from responding or asking questions in Indonesian, because the limited words and phrases I know have become ingrained like instinct. It’s my default when I’m not speaking English.
I only finally bought my plane ticket back to YVR in the second-to-last month when I saw another flight going up in price. It just felt too final, and I had to force myself to click “confirm” and then try not to regret it. I can’t stop thinking about how I could move things around to stay in this part of the world a little longer. I’m already lingering in SEA for a few weeks past my last day at CIPS, but it’s still too soon to go.
So here’s a final letter about a couple more little things I’ve probably mentioned in passing that have wormed their way into my heart, admittedly with no resistance, and also a look into visiting a city that’s batik wonderland (batik being a traditional way of dying clothes, with distinct patterns). This whole experience has really been made up of two kinds of special: the special that becomes the everyday even as it retains its specialness, turning into little sparks of joy from the things I’m used to; and the exceptional special that is thrilling, sprinkled throughout the routine weeks.
Sitting in all these mixed emotions, I wanted to share a little bit of both one last time.
The Exceptional Special
I’ve been fortunate enough to have been able to venture out on a few little trips to other beautiful parts of Java. For the Indonesian long weekend in September, Alejandro and I took the 6 hour train to Yogyakarta, also known as Jogja. It’s a cultural center in Indonesia, known for arts, especially its batik, and for its temples among other things. The city is actually a “special region” ruled over by a sultan, technically independent of the surrounding Central Java province. Iconic Jogja sites include the sultan’s palace and Borobudur temple, an old Buddhist temple and the most famous in the area.
We didn’t visit Borobudur, but opted instead for a trip to Prambanan, probably the second most visited temple complex around Jogja. Lia, one of our coworkers and a CIPS intern herself who is from the region, happened to also be in the city at the time, and we were lucky to have her as our unofficial guide. The Prambanan site actually consists of several temples spread out in different clusters in what is now like a large park. They are Hindu, and covered in the coolest detailed images carved into the stones. Parts of different temples were destroyed, with big yards of jumbled up stones being all that was left, and Lia told us it was the result of an eruption from a nearby volcano, which triggered an earthquake (the Indonesian mountains are beautiful but just a tad terrifying).
Sufficiently awed and then hungry, we headed straight to a gudeg place. Nasi gudeg is a local dish that features sweet marinated jackfruit that is cooked for hours, often served alongside a few other sides like spicy beef skin, egg, and rice. It was wenak (Javanese for delicious)! (But flavourful enough that it’s not the kind of dish you can have 3 days in a row without needing a little break – learn from our mistakes.)
Continuing with the list of classic Jogja adventures, we also got to wander Malioboro and Prawirotaman, two popular streets for visitors to the city, and bought some bakpia. The classic filling for these pastries is mungbean or kacang hijau. It’s the best when it’s still warm and fresh! We also wandered the chaotic but wonderful Beringharjo Market, a haven of batik treasures, and also possibly more hardcore than Greek labyrinths. There are numbers to all the little aisles and stores – pay attention to them or you will never find the same place twice.
One of the top highlights of our trip was getting a glimpse into how all those amazing sarongs, clothing, bags and more in Beringharjo are made. We took a little batik course at the Batik Seno studio and shop. The term actually refers to cloth made through a specific process, and the process itself – using wax on fabric to guide the dye and create patterns. I always appreciated batik, but now I have a new level of respect and admiration for the art and the artists – especially for hand-painted batik! And all the beautiful symbols and patterns have meanings, a language all their own. (Pro tip: do not wear parang in the sultan’s palace.)
One of the last things we did was a bicycle ride through the Central Javanese countryside. It felt like a classic movie moment, some summertime-esque coming-of-age: the wind on my face, fields on both sides of the road, and a feeling rising in my chest the same colour as the beginnings of the pinkish sunset at our backs. On the way back, the host from our hostel picked us up halfway in his pickup truck, and I asked to sit on the truck bed in the back. His elementary school-aged son was also in the back and taught me a few Javanese words while we enjoyed the (slightly) cooler night air. Ever since, I’ve been trying to collect more Javanese vocabulary. I want to show it off when I eventually hopefully make my way back to Jogja someday.
The Everyday Special
Kucing
I couldn’t write about Jakarta and not mention the cats. In what I am learning appears to be a general SEA thing, there are cats everywhere. I’m kind of obsessed with this.
You’ll see cats weaving around people’s legs in parking lots, cats sleeping on the bench in warungs when they aren’t meowing for some of your meal, cats sitting at the MRT entrance, watching people come in and out of the train station like they have the authority to deny your transit card.
Cats also tend to designate places as their regular haunts. There’s a cat who frequently hangs out outside our office, and now also a terrifically mangy but very sweet cat who lives outside our kost. It is sometimes impossible to tell if a cat is someone’s pet, or if they just won’t leave the place they’ve become attached to, a perpetual uninvited but very entitled guest. And not necessarily an unwelcome one; there is a sense of general acceptance about the cats, if not affection.
My coworkers at the office actually started a fundraiser recently for the outside-the-office kitty, who has been dubbed Esema, as she was looking a little sick. We called a vet to come look at her and she seems to be doing better already, meowing just as loud as ever if you accidentally make eye contact through the glass front door. No one has ever accused cats of being bad at demanding what they want. Having them all around, compared to only the occasional neighbourhood cats I would immediately try to befriend in Victoria, was a lovely surprise and then a comfort.
Thunder
The only thing to rival Esema’s meows, the Jakarta thunder, is another thing I’ll miss dearly. In Vancouver and Victoria we may get a lot of rain, but it feels like we hardly ever get proper thunderstorms. In Jakarta, you don’t even need rain for there to be thunder. You’ll hear it rattling the clouds before a drop has fallen, and sometimes the water won’t even come.
As long as I am not caught out in the rain (which tragically befell me once for only 30 seconds, and even then I may as well have gone swimming), it’s one of my favourite things to silently enjoy here. I love weather that announces itself. From the safety of a cafe, the office, or my room, I like to just watch the rain fall and listen to the sky sing. It’s more heavy metal than gentle folk melody, but there’s still something beautiful and comforting about it to me. It’s a very different kind of rain (Indonesian rain at full force would probably drown Victoria rain within minutes), but it reminds me a little bit of home on the West Coast. Just enough to make me order my matcha hot, instead of iced, when I settle in to work from a coffee shop on a stormy day.
However, getting used to the actual rain has been humbling, and though I will still complain about Vancouver rain when it’s nonstop, I will now do so with just a dash of shame, knowing it’s not even close to the torrential downpours that Gojek and Grab drivers are used to suiting up in plastic ponchos to speed through. Which happens more and more often now that we are entering the rainy season. I guess it means that on my way out there will be more thunder than ever. A shouted goodbye.
Makanan
I’ve shied away from fully, properly discussing the food here, because I fear it would be too big of a project. I would need several blogs to do it justice. But as it is, I can’t go even one blog without at least mentioning it.
So know this: it is not only the absolutely mouthwateringly spectacular food itself that I will miss, but the community aspect of it. Food as a reason to gather, as a show of affection, as culture and connection. Going out with the CIPSies, as a testament to this, always involves eating together at some point, or multiple times in an outing. I have not only had some of the best meals ever in Indonesia, but I’ve made friends at the table, talking over that food. Whether it’s freshly caught and fire-grilled fish on Tidung island, passed around to others in our tour group as we tear off pieces with our hands and chat about where we’re from, or simple but beautifully spiced mie goreng (fried noodles) after work at a roadside spot, with plastic stools and jokes about ongoing projects, about weekend and life plans.
From weekdays with their routines, to weekends with their excitement, I am grateful for all the good things. I’ll be leaving Jakarta, CIPS, and all the people I’ve met here reluctantly, but I’ll be going home with more than just valuable work experience – I’ll be departing with a full heart, and new friends to keep in it.
Makasih semuanya!
Love,
Ana
