OUR BAGS ARE PACKED, BUT ARE WE READY TO GO?

Dearest Friends,

The last of our straggling birthday and Christmas packages from the states finally arrived in early February.  A good thing, since that's when we received a telex from the office in Bahrain.  They had a position for John, and they wanted him there by April 1st.  What is more, they wanted us to go ahead and take our annual month-long home leave before we got there.  I did the math in my head, and when I realized that meant we only had three or four weeks left in Indonesia, I almost collapsed.  Yes, I was excited about possibly going back to work, meeting new people, and furnishing our first real home, but was I really ready to leave this place, and these people, forever?  I'd only been here eight months, and there was so much I'd yet to see and do!  Though John had been there once, before we got married, I'd still never been to Bali!  Imagine living in Indonesia, and never even going to Bali.  Heck, I never even made it out of Cilegon!

I. Plays Host

The next few weeks were a mad blur of taking inventory (how did we ever accumulate so much, in such a short period of time?), cleaning out trunks, and in deciding what needed to be sent ahead in our air freight shipment (I ask you, which is more important, cooking equipment or electronics?), what needed to be bought in Singapore and sent by sea, what we would need to pack in our suitcases in order to get by during our month of travel, and what could be given away.  If only I'd known how many times I'd have to go through this throughout our marriage, would we have bought so much stuff? (my hubby would give a resounding "Yes!") Would we have let ourselves get that close to people, that fast? (less and less with every move)  Oh yes, and there were parties to be attended!  Lots and lots of parties!

Kicking back with I & I, after an amazing good-bye dinner.

The movers came to pack up our air shipment (we never could agree, so we sent a little of each) on the 19th.  On the 24th Miss F. had a big luncheon for all the women, as a going away for me, and a welcoming for Miss P., who'd just finally returned.  On the 25th there was a pizza dinner at Young S's house, and on the 27th we went to an unbelievable dinner at the home of I&I.  If I'd known what an amazing cook she was, I would have been hanging out at her place every day, to see what I could learn! Ere then, I had no clue that some people actually heated their dinner plates in the oven, before placing the food on them, and chilled their salad plates!  And that dessert!  I remember it to this day: multiple thin layers of crunchy-sweet meringue, with pillows of whipped cream and syrupy fruit sandwiched between!  Oh, and the soundtrack I still hear from this? It's definitely Gloria Gaynor.  I & I were mad for Gloria Gaynor.  On the 28th one of the bachelors, Infamous A., actually cooked dinner for us (equally impressive in its own way) then had the entire community over for a party afterwards.

The next day the packers came to get the rest of our stuff, and I went to card club for the very last time.  They had a special prize for me, even though I didn't win that day -- a small brass paperweight, shaped like one of the little green lizards that watched over my bed that very first night in Indonesia, and which I'd eventually grown rather fond of.

 The following morning we were delighted to find that I. had sent his air conditioned car and driver to take us all the way to Jakarta, where we would then catch a plane to Singapore.  Much better than being on one of those VW busses, I assure you, but hard to appreciate when I was so distracted by thoughts of what I was leaving behind.  What if I never saw any of these people again?  What if I never, ever lived anyplace near as beautiful as this again?  Had I made the most of my time while I was here?  For three hours, I listen to the soundtrack in my head - Gloria Gaynor singing Never Can Say Good-Bye...

GRACE AND GRANDEUR

Dearest Friends,

To me, this is the wonder of Indonesia: the grace and beauty seen in simple, everyday activities...

Krakatoa

Krakatoa

  ...whilst being surrounded by the epic magnificence of nature.

ROLE MODELS

Boss B. and his fiance Miss P.

Dearest Friends,

A few months after I arrived in Indonesia, our shy, quiet Boss Man shocked us all by announcing that he was to have a visitor -- a fiance, no less!  She was going to do what I probably should have done --  check the place out, to see what she was getting herself into.

Boss Man B.

Not long after she arrived, we had them over to dinner, and the more I visited with her, the more I felt I had found a kindred spirit.  P. was quite different from most of the other wives I'd met so far.  She had a graduate degree in library science, and had landed a job as head librarian at a brand new school that had still been under construction when they hired her.  She talked about what a thrill it had been to be there from start to finish, and how hard it would be to walk away from "her" library.  She was smart and independent, with her own apartment and a promising career, but she also enjoyed domestic pursuits like decorating and quilting - a rare combination in those days.  She told me she never felt settled in a new place until she'd hung her "stuff" on the walls.  Only then did it feel like home.  I thought of that each and every time we had to move over the next three decades.

Miss P.

John already looked upon Boss B. as his role model.  Now I could look forward to having one of my own.  I guess the situation passed muster with her, for Boss B. flew off to the states a few months later and they got married.  Unfortunately, our reunion was to be short-lived.  By the time they got back from a honeymoon safari in Africa, we were packing up to leave.  But...

Little did we know that, some 35 years later, Miss P. would pick up an Austin newspaper by chance, and see a photo in the travel section that happened to be of a place in Thailand -- a place that they themselves had visited.  There was a story attached to the photo, written by someone who called herself "Hill Country Hippie", and who wrote a blog called Seasonality, where Miss P. decided to leave a comment...

MISS BECKY, SHE SO FUNNY

Shoppers' Paradise - Main Street Cilegon

Dearest Friends,

Rather than drag it out, I might as well admit to my most embarrassing Anyer Beach moments all in one letter.  Notice I said "Anyer Beach moments", not moments ever, nor moments abroad, or even moments in Indonesia.  You see, humiliating myself is one thing I happen to be quite good at, so I've managed to collect at least several such memories in almost every place we've lived.

The fabric store, and an Indonesian math lesson.

The first in Anyer Beach was the avocado incident.  John's favorite salad at the AB restaurant was the Avocado Vinaigrette -- a half avocado with a bit of pickle relish placed in the cavity, that has been drizzled with a vinaigrette dressing.  Easy peasy, right?  So I decided to fix it for him myself.  Only, when I was scraping some food scraps into the toilet from the same plate that held the avocado pit, the pit got away from me and landed in the toilet too.  In fact, it went so far down the toilet that I was unable to reach it with my hand.  Believe me, I tried.  So, of course, the toilet got stopped up and I had to ask the little housekeeping fellow to come fix it.  He came out of the bathroom holding the pit in his hand, with a look of bewilderment on his face, then proceeded to explain to me, as if I were a two year old, how dumb it was to flush an avocado down your toilet.  From then on, whenever he saw me, he'd grin and waggle his head in wonder at the goofy American girl.

Learning enough Indonesian to do the mandatory haggling.

Not long after that, our bed broke.  We weren't even doing anything at the time -- just sitting there, reading, when suddenly it collapsed.  Of course, quite a few people witnessed the bed being carried out of the newlyweds' room in pieces the next day, and a new one being carried in.  Before long, everyone in the compound grinned and waggled their heads when they saw me -- those bachelors most of all. Eventually, I grew weary of yelling "We weren't doing anything!" each time they did it -- especially after I caught John giving them cocky winks behind my back.

The supermarket.

Last but not least was the trip to Kem Chiks.  As John had promised, a company van came to pick the ladies up each Wednesday, to drive us to a little grocery store in Cilegon (pronounced chili-gone).  It was at least an hour's drive, if I remember correctly, over those lovely bumpy, twisty roads, and one time I made the mistake of sitting in the very back seat.  By the time we got there, I wasn't feeling so hot.  I hurried up to the cashier and asked "Where's the bathroom?"  "Mrs. wants to take a bath?", she asked.  "No!  Your restroom!  Where's your restroom?"  "Mrs. needs to rest?"  "No!  Crap, forget it!", and I made a beeline for the door.  I got outside just in time to decorate their shrubs with violet-colored vomit.  Lesson learned: If one is prone towards motion sickness, one should never ride in the very back of a van or bus -- especially if one is drinking a fizzy grape Fanta.  From then on, everyone at Kem Chiks grinned and waggled their heads whenever they saw me.

WHAT'S THE BIG DEAL?

Dearest Friends,

You may be wondering why so many people would make the arduous drive out to this tiny resort where we lived.  What was the big attraction?  Was it the beach?  Probably not.  Indonesia is an archipelago made up of hundreds of islands.  No matter where you are in Indonesia, you are never far from a gorgeous beach!

Anyer Beach Sunset

Well then, could it have been the five-star cuisine?  Not hardly!  The best thing we had going for us was the little sate hut down by the beach each weekend.  The high point of our week was to walk down there on Sundays (John's only day off), to feast on a few of the tiny kebabs (pronounced sah' tay) and some of the sticky rice, which had been wrapped and steamed in little gift-like banana leaf packages.  However, though they were special to us, they were hardly worth driving several hours for.  You could get them anywhere in Indonesia!

The Sate Hut

So, what was it then?  Hmmmm.  Perhaps it was the bowling alley.  Yep, you heard me.  Anyer Beach, this simple little resort out in the middle of nowhere, reached only by the most primitive of roads, boasted a state of the art bowling alley!  Go figure.

Anyer Beach Bowling Alley

LOST LIBERATION

Dearest Friends,

If you recall, I mentioned that almost all the women in my childhood neighborhood were stay-at-home moms.  The only job my mother ever had was a brief stint selling Mary Kay cosmetics.  She taught us that women should never be seen without make-up, how to get your way while letting your husband think he's the boss, and how to hide something you've bought for a while, so that when you do wear it, and hubby asks if you've bought something new, you can say "This old thing? I've had it for ages!"  I spent the whole summer before college sewing cute dresses to wear every day, and even wore stockings the first week of class, but soon traded them in for frayed jeans and sandals.  You see, I showed up at UT (the most liberal, hippie-fied school in Texas) in 1971, when SDS, ERA, Roe vs. Wade, draft-dodging and presidential impeachment were everyday topics of conversation.  By the time I graduated, I was quite proud of how very liberated I had become.  I just had no idea how hard it would be to maintain, once I'd traded life in Austin for life as an expatriate wife who couldn't get a work permit, couldn't drive, and who was completely dependent on her husband for everything!

Luncheon with Miss D. (far right)

Despite my ill-planned shipment and lack of equipment, I managed to do ok in our make-shift kitchen.  I'd even host little dinner parties for some of John's bachelor friends, as a way to make myself feel useful.  I'd fix a batch of watery spachetti or underdone fried chicken in my electric frying pan, serve it to them out on our tiny porch, and they'd treat me like I was the hostess with the mostest!  Just when I was starting to believe it, I got invited to lunch at Miss D's place.

Miss D. was one of the older wives -- the one who reminded me of Zsa Zsa Gabor, with her exotic accent and ever-elegant attire.  There was an air of mystery about her, and she would allude to a princess-like upbringing.  That all ended when "riff raff" took over her country, and they had to bury their valuables and flee their mansion in the dead of night.  Miss D's luncheon was served on beautiful Chinese dishes, lined with glossy banana leaves that she had sent her housekeeper out to pick (She needed a housekeeper? For one room?).  I prayed that she would never invite John or any of the bachelors over for dinner, for it was sure to raise the bar on their expectations!

Miss M. gives little K. a haircut.

You see those kerchiefs the women are wearing?  They were probably hiding the curlers in their hair.   It seemed I had left my campus world, where I had friends who were burning their bras, and had given up shaving their legs and pits, and had traveled back in time to one where they believed the only way to get ahead was to use one's feminine wiles.  They went around in curlers and caftans during the day, but met their hubbies at the door each evening dressed to kill, with welcoming drink in hand.  I knew I was in trouble the day I found myself leaving a card party early, because I wanted to have plenty of time to get gussied-up before John got home!

CAST OF CHARACTERS

Dearest Friends,

One thing I found most interesting about life overseas was the cast of characters -- and I do mean characters!  I'd grown up in your typical 50's suburban neighborhood, where all the hubbies went off to work each morning, most all the wives stayed home with the kiddos, and everyone went to church on Sundays.  I remember being quite shocked when a guy I liked in high school said he lived in an apartment.  I'd never known anyone who didn't live in a house.  Life as an ex-pat was going to be quite the eye-opener.

E. shows us the ropes

Life o' the party

First of all there was Princess D, who reminded me of Zsa Zsa Gabor, with her exotic accent and regal attitude.  Rumor had it that her "hubby" wasn't really her hubby, for there was one back in the states who refused to grant a divorce.  There was the beautiful young woman who's blonde cherub son was three years old before the father decided to claim them as his family.  I wish he never had, for they deserved so much more.  He got kicked out of the Pula Rita for hurling one of their employees through a plate-glass window when he was pissed about something.  He was always pissed about something.  Then there was E., who reminds me a lot of Sue Sylvestre on the TV show Glee -- all rough and tough on the outside, with a bit of marshmallow hidden underneath.  She'd give me grief about being so young and googly-eyed, then show up on my porch with some containers for me to store my leftovers in, or an offer to show me the ropes down in the market.  She was a tall, blonde American, but her hubby was a wee little black-haired Scotsman who played the accordion, and who obviously brought out the marshmallow in her.

The Irish Lads

Three Musketeers: S., A., and Dear Hubby

Last, but not least, were the bachelors.  John's boss B. wasn't much older than us, but was very quiet and reserved.  The young guys loved to tease and joke with him, but it was obvious they had a great deal of respect for him.  S. and A. were John's two best buddies.  S. , a big ol' blonde from Tennessee, is the one who keeled over at the sight of a hypodermic.  A. had been in the Peace Corps for a couple of years before coming to work for B&R.  His claim to fame was that he could roll himself up in a sarong, drop down anywhere on the ground, and be sleeping like a baby in a matter of seconds.  There were a couple of Irish guys, who were a hoot and a holler, though I could hardly understand a word they said.  And then there were the twins, who thought they were God's gift to women, and were wilder than a March hare.  With characters such as these, things were bound to get interesting, were they not?