Another day in paradise

I was strongly reminded of Knight bus from Harry Potter on the bus ride to Blitar; our bus driver sped around sharp turns, honking to let cars/motorists anticipate their approach (playing chicken with those who don't move out of their way on the other side of the road when passing lanes) and a ticket master literally grabs people waiting at stops and tosses them and their things through the back door as the driver slows to about 15 mph. It feels like a circus with the noise and pace of it all and vendors and musicians who rush on at the stops and yell at the sleeping passengers, shaking peanuts in their faces. At one point we went over a railroad crossing at top speed and the volunteer to my left literally ended up on my lap when we came down on the other side of the tracks.

Yes it's terrifying and we were all shocked to our senses later in the angkot when we saw a crowd of people surrounding a pile of newspaper and cardboard weighed down by stones next to a motetcycle lying on its side. We realized a few moments after passing that a person was under all that newspaper. No ambulance at the scene, although one passed us about five minutes later. 

Thoughts at Jelly's site:

Jelly and her counterpart leading camp counselor session in preparation for IGLOW (Indonesian Girls Leading Our World) camp this weekend. 

I find myself wondering when we'll get the real peace corps experience.. Jelly, the volunteer Zoe and I visited, was a really good match for both of us. We thought about how peace corps seemed to match us with host volunteers of similar temperments. It was a pretty nice setup: her students spoke great English and her family was well-off. Her site was fairly rural but she lived near a convenience store and lots of mom and pop shops.

Jelly lives at a site with an ibu, three amazingly adorable kids (two girls, one boy) and three girls younger than I who are live-in nannies/housekeepers. It was as nice as our houses in Batu, if not nicer.

Her school next door was big, clean and had all of the resources of most middle schools in the States. We sat in on two classes which spoke English very well (the second one less so than the first). Jelly's counter-part was also a really good teacher: she commanded the classroom well and moved through the lesson really efficiently. Jelly's main role seemed to be writing things on the board in English and leading some activities. 

On her collaboration with her counterpart, Jelly's thoughts were that she didn't see herself as a teacher so much as her kids' personal cheerleader. She said the schools are so big and students don't ever receive personal attention so giving them the opportunity to express themselves in the journals she has them turn in weekly (I really want to do that) and giving them individual feedback is really the most important thing she can do for her kids. Her main thing is her afterschool activities. She runs an IGLOW camp with some other volunteers and an English camp, both of which we got to see small glimpses of. We saw really shy girls come out of their shells at the IGLOW camp counselor session they hosted the Sunday we arrived. At the actual camp to be hosted this weekend, the volunteers and teachers arrange for speakers to come and talk about healthy relationships, women's health and sex education. In addition, the counselors lead discussions about the girls' future aspirations. This seems like such a critical organization because this is the only place a lot of these girls will be able to receive such information and be able to feel relatively comfortable discussing these issues. Most importantly, while the volunteers do a lot of the legwork of setting up the camp, it's entirely run by Indonesians in the finals stages, which Jelly said she hopes will make it more sustainable.

She mentioned that a big issue she's concerned about with the IGLOW camps is that these girls can be totally attentive to the information now but once they're married they won't see it as applicable any longer. 

We made hummus with a mortar and pestle the second night and bought ingredients for salad the third. I now look forward to my permanent site when I can arrange to cook for myself. The general concepts of what constitutes a healthy lifestyle in Indonesia is mind-blowing. Someone's host family told a volunteer, in all apparent seriousness, that the reason they were getting sick was because they weren't smoking or eating enough white rice. Vegetables and fruit are uncommon items in households. My host bapak said to me one morning (through gestures) that I would become stronger if I ate more white rice. I indicated the sources of protein on the table and he shook his head and pointed to the rice then flexed his arm and gave me the thumbs up.

A scrap of paper in the teacher's lounge, presumably a homework assignment. It's hard to go anywhere and not think about trash here. There's nowhere to put the trash so it's everywhere.

Either heaven or a hypermart. This is the first cereal I've seen in Indonesia.

This was the first time we were truly prepared for the rain (in this photo: other ID8's - my group - with their ID7 hosts)

Jelly and her host sister Naya: the sassiest deaf girl you will ever meet.

I really wanted a picture of the men returning from rice paddies at the end of the day on top of their harvest but it's difficult getting the picture from the bus, so please excuse the blurriness.