THE GOOD, THE BAD, AND THE UGLY

Dearest Friends,

There were many, many things that I loved about Indonesia, and a few things I was not so crazy about.  One thing in particular gave me one of the worst scares of my life, but it deserves a story all its own, so we'll save that for later.

One thing that impressed me the most, when I first arrived, was the way wee little boys could shimmy up those tall, thin coconut palms using their bare hands and knees.  Then I found out about the surprise that could be awaiting them at the top.  I was told that Indonesia is home to the smallest, but deadliest, viper in the world -- one who's bite can kill in a mere seven seconds.  I wasn't sure if that was true or not, but it was enough to keep me out of coconut trees forever, and had me holding my breath each time I saw a child heading up.

Another problem was what some expats called bribery, but Indonesians didn't see it that way.  To them it was just the manner in which business was conducted.  When you received word that a long-awaited package had finally arrived after weeks and weeks, then realized they weren't going to hand it over until some rupiahs had changed hands, you just couldn't get your knickers in a twist.  You had to keep reminding yourself that, to them, it was no different than our tipping a waitress.

Speaking of packages, that brings us to problems #3 and #4 -- mail and communications.  In a word, they sucked!  Not only did we not have cell phones back then, I don't think we ever had a telephone, period.  I seem to remember that if our families needed to get in touch with us, they had to call the office, then someone would get word to us.  And, if I wanted to invite a bunch of people to a party, or contact a group of the wives for any reason, John would take all my notes to work with him, hand them out to the various husbands, and hope that they remembered to pass them on to their spouses in a timely manner.  Letters usually arrived ok, though it took two weeks or more, but packages were another matter altogether.  They could take months to arrive, if at all, and when they finally did, they might be missing half their contents.  A packet of our wedding photos disappeared from one package and, for the life of me, I couldn't fathom why anyone would even want them -- besides us, of course!  Then someone said, "If it makes you feel any better, they are probably now hanging in a place of honor on someone's living room wall, and whenever they have guests, they will point to them proudly, saying 'Those are our American friends!' "

One thing is for certain, the longer we were overseas, the less persnickety we were, but the better our sense of humor became.  You just had to let go, else you'd never survive.  Good training for becoming parents, no?  One Christmas package finally showed up several months after the fact, with half the stuff missing.  What did make it through, much to our delight, was a box of those little bite-sized Butterfinger bars.  Only, when we opened the box, we discovered that it was crawling with ants.  We stared in dismay for a moment, then John grabbed the box and ran for the kitchen.  Did he toss them into the trash bin?  No, he did not.  Instead, he held some of the candy under running water, to rinse the ants away.  I only hesitated a second before accepting one from him, popping it into my mouth, and letting out a groan of satisfaction.