WHEN THE GOING GETS ROUGH, THROW A PARTY!

The Star-Trek-themed murder mystery party we hosted

A party only the brave attended, as it was held at a restaurant in Lhok Seumawe

Miss Becky heads over the hill

Three nuns on their way to a Halloween Shanghai luncheon

CAMPING INDO-STYLE

Dearest Friends,

I have a very vague memory of Miss Laura and I needing to take our little scout troop camping, in order for them to earn a particular badge. I remember making those sit-upons the girls are holding in the picture above; I remember setting up tents behind one of the houses up on the hill, though why any of us would have brought tents or camping equipment to Sumatra, I haven't a clue; and I remember a gully-washer storm that came in the middle of the night, threatening to sweep our tents right off that hill! The rest is a blur.

Since my memories were so hazy, I sent word out to the rest of the Indo Crowd, asking if anyone could fill in some of the blanks for me. This response came from friend AnneMarie:

"The campout was just outside our backyard. It started to pour so we moved the campout into our sunscreen. This worked well at first, then it also started to leak and make some of the sleeping bags wet. We then moved further into the house and used all the sofa's, plus a few of the girls ended up in a bed. Not really a camp out, but l think we gave them their badge for this anyway. We did make situpons while hiding from the rain in our garage, or at least l think we did. I also recall our driver starting to dig a big hole in the nice grass area so we could make a fire. Fortunately someone was thinking and put a stop to that before Bruce Jones fired my husband! The girls loved the s'mores. That's about all l can recall."

Ahhh, it's beginning to come back to me now.  Thanks AnneMarie!

POOR WITTLE EASTER BUNNY

Dearest Friends,

Easter of '93 was one jam-packed, fun-filled weekend! That Friday was when we finally got to see John Lane: Vampire Hunter in Out For The Count. Afterwards our friends Tom and Teri hosted a cast party for everyone involved in the production. Saturday was a pot luck and easter egg hunt up at the pool, and Sunday was the sunrise service on the beach, followed by Easter dinner with six other families at Danny and Peggy's house. The kids thought the egg hunt at the pool was a blast, even if they did have to outrun Mr. Danny to get any eggs.

Little Miss Easter Bunny ended up getting tossed into the drink! (Who would do such a thing?)

Boy, was she ever shocked when she discovered that her pink bunny skin became transparent when wet! Poor wittle Bunny.

THE ANNUAL HASH DINNER

Dearest Friends,

You know how my hubby swore he'd never set foot on a stage again? Well, that lasted maybe two or three weeks, until someone managed to convince him to participate in one of the skits for our annual Hash Dinner. If you recall, the Hash is that trek through the jungle, following a fickle paper trail, that most everyone in the community participated in each Sunday afternoon. The goal was to somehow find your way to the "grog" truck (loaded down with icy sodas and beer) so that you could catch a ride home on the bus, and not be left in the jungle. Once a year the Hash group held a nice dinner at the restaurant, where they passed out some funny awards, and entertained us with the aforementioned skits.

My hubby's the hottie on the right -- the one wearing dark socks with his plaid bermuda shorts!

I asked him if he remembered what his skit was about. He said no, just that it was a good opportunity to wear his favorite t-shirt -- the one I would not normally let him leave the house in (Captain Condom says "Wrap That Rascal!")

THE BIG BLOW-UP

Dearest Friends,

In some ways my hubby and I are a lot alike. For one thing, we are both extremely non-confrontational. We'd do just about anything to avoid an argument -- our own, or anyone else's. In my case it was so extreme that just watching things like the Three Stooges or Abbot and Costello could make me twitchy. Part of this, I'm sure, is that neither of us has a glib tongue. John is a good listener, a great audience. I'm the one who thinks of brilliant rejoinders -- hours after the fact when it's too late to do me any good! Hence, we would surely lose in a battle of words, especially with someone who could think on the fly. Anyhoo, since we both hated arguing, and had not yet been taught how to handle disagreements productively, a lot of stuff was still getting swept under the rug in those days.

In other ways we were polar opposites. It was that classic half-empty/half-full scenario. No matter how bad things got, I usually managed to stay fairly cheerful. No matter how good things got, John still managed to stay fairly glum -- which created a nice balance, for the most part. While living the ex-pat life, however, it actually led to one of our biggest fights.

Miss Becky's nest in the Indo-house, where she did her thinking and writing.

You see, I did such a good job of making the best of things that, eventually, John would always forget that there was any down-side to my situation -- that I had given anything up, or made any trade-offs to be there. All he saw was that he had to go to work every day, while I stayed home with a maid and a driver. As if that weren't bad enough, I had the nerve to be all chipper when he got home each day, wanting to tell him about all the fun things the kids and I did while he was at work! Anyway, things finally came to a head one weekend when John went to make a peanut butter sandwich, and discovered we were out of bread. He blurted out something rather hurtful, on the order of "You'd think a woman who didn't have a damn thing to do all day could at least manage to keep bread in the house!", then grabbed the kids and headed off to the snack bar, leaving me standing there with my mouth agape.

Ten or fifteen minutes later, words finally came to me, but of course, I had no one to say them to. They didn't come in a gentle way, either. It was more of an eruption. I had no choice but to grab a pen and start writing a letter to my hubby. I don't remember exactly what was in that one, but I do recall it as one of my better letters -- one where I was able to open his eyes to a few truths, but in a humorous way. I think I started out apologizing for the error of my ways, and telling him he deserved much better. Perhaps he deserved one of the wives we knew who stayed drunk all day long, because it was the only way they could deal with the tedious monotony of their lives here. Or perhaps he should be with the one who was sneaking off to sleep with her hubby's best friend while he was at work. Then again, maybe he would prefer one of those who seemed to be back in the states or away on trips more than they were ever here on the compound, or, better yet, one who refused to come to Indonesia in the first place, even if it meant death to her hubby's career. Oh wait, here's an idea! Maybe I should trade in my part-time maid and the ordeal of fixing my whole family three meals a day, from scratch, almost every darn day, and get not only a live-in maid and a cook, like most everyone we knew, but also a nanny for the kids, like a few others had. That way I could devote every waking minute to his needs.

OK, maybe I didn't really say all that. I think I got a bit carried away there towards the end. Skip that last part and jump ahead to where I closed by saying something like "Silly me! I never knew I actually had a choice in any of this. I thought I had to quit my job at Chez Vous, say goodbye to my friends and family, and a home and a church I adored, to follow you to the ends of the earth. I thought it was my duty to make the most of the situation, and to stay as busy and cheerful as possible. I thought that was what you wanted! Was I wrong? If so, there is a simple solution. Book those tickets and we can be on the next plane outta here!"

His reply? "Damn, Becky! Did you have to go and make me laugh? Couldn't you let me enjoy my righteous indignation a little bit longer,  just this once?"

THE PHI PHI ISLANDS

Dearest Friends,

One day during our vacation in Phuket, we took a side trip to the Phi Phi Islands. Years later I wrote this little story about our adventures there, which was published in the Wish You Were Here column of the Austin American Statesman:

OBSERVING NATURE TAKES NEW MEANING 

AT ISLAND

We lived in Indonesia when our children were young, and one of our first vacations from there was to Phuket, Thailand. It included a day trip to the Phi Phi Islands (pronounced Pee Pee, much to the delight of our kids). A water bus took us to the main island, where a tropical buffet had been set up beneath the palm trees.

Next we were loaded onto several small boats, and paddled out to an uninhabited island. They first took us to the Viking Cave, where bamboo scaffolding was set up for the harvesting of birds' nests (a valuable delicacy destined for bird's nest soup). We were then dropped off at a private beach.

As we picked out a spot to spread our towels, the kids ran off to try out their new snorkels. Once we were settled, we scanned the water for them. "Uh, dear? Notice anything unusual?" asked my husband. As a matter of fact, I did. At least half the women weren't wearing tops. He then pointed to a few of them who were standing in a circle, chest deep in the water, and had been tossing a volleyball back and forth to one another. "What's that ruckus?"

It appeared that the women had been distracted from their game by the sight of a snorkel that kept circling around them, like a shark around his supper. Several times they called out "Hey, you! What are you doing?" When they got no response, one of them finally reached out and put her thumb over the top of the snorkel, forcing the swimmer up for air. Who popped up, gasping and choking? Our 7-year-old son, Austin!

To this day, he still claims he was merely studying the fish.

THE HELP

Dearest Friends,

After more than a year in Sumatra, I still wasn't crazy about having staff, but I had learned to live with it. And, if I had to have a housekeeper, there could have been none better than our Asnah. What a jewel she was! My kids adored her, and I think she was pretty crazy about them, too. Because I didn't want them turning into spoiled brats who expected to be waited upon, the rule at our house had always been that Asnah could dust and mop in their bedrooms, but she was not to pick up after them or make their beds. That was their job. It wasn't until years later that one of them admitted to her picking up their toys all the time, and keeping it their little secret!

Asnah, Mrs., and Fatima

Another special person, who came into our lives that second year, was Fatima -- the baking lady! I still hadn't hired a cook, like most everyone else had, but when I heard about Fatima (that was her name wasn't it?) I just couldn't resist. You see, so much of what we take for granted in our supermarkets here just wasn't available over there, and therefore had to be made from scratch. Not just cakes, cookies, and pastries, but also pizza crusts, tortillas, even dinner rolls. Fatima could make all of these, and more!  I think she had a pretty long waiting list of prospective clients, but she happened to be best buds with our Asnah, who must have told her I was easy to work for (a patsy, in fact) so she squeezed me into her schedule. She came to our house every other Friday, if I remember correctly -- the very best days of the whole month, for not only were the aromas emanating from our kitchen beyond delicious, her presence always meant getting pizza for dinner that evening (a night off from cooking for mom!) and waking up to her sumptuous cinnamon rolls the next morning. Oh my my. Those cinnamon rolls.

One day that fall, Asnah came to me in tears, mumbling something about a terrible accident. A car accident? Had someone been hurt? Killed! "Oh no Mrs., a laundry accident!" As I mentioned before, our washing machine was a piece of crap, and it must not have dispensed all the bleach properly when she did a load of whites, for the color load that went in afterwards came out covered in white splotches. Compared to the horror I had been envisioning, this was not a big deal, but poor Asnah was so distraught, I thought I'd never get her calmed down!

After supper that evening, we were supposed to go up to the school yard to play volleyball with the older kids. John and I both decided it would be rather humorous if our whole family showed up clad in our polka-dotted clothes. We did get some good laughs out of it, but one woman actually said,"If she were my maid, she'd be out on her ass right now." I felt like telling her,"Well, if I were your maid, I'd probably bleach your clothes on purpose!" Jeez, people. Sometimes, you just gotta know when to laugh!

A GLIMPSE INTO THE FUTURE

Bukit Indah -- Beautiful Hill

Dearest Friends,

When we'd been there a week or two, and were as settled in as we could be until our stuff arrived, my hubby woke up one Saturday and came to a most startling realization.  For the very first time, in as long as he could remember, he was a free man.  He had no car to wash (the driver did that for us -- every day!), no lawn to mow, no household maintenance or repairs to do, no packing or unpacking for business trips to be done, no parents to check in on, no soccer or t-ball games to coach or attend...zip...nada!  Nothing more important than just relaxing and hanging with his family.  It was difficult to wrap his head around the notion.

So, after lazing in bed for as long as he wished, he decided we should don our swimsuits, then mosey down to the pool and snackbar, to check them out more thoroughly.

We couldn't believe our luck!  What with the blue skies, the palm trees, the lounge chairs and umbrellaed tables, and the waiters who seemed happy to bring you whatever you desired, be it ice cream, a diet coke with a twist of lime, or a cold Bintang beer, it was as if we'd been sent to live at one of those fancy-schmancy vacation resorts -- the kind we'd always longed to visit, but never could afford.

If I had to compare our facilities in Indonesia the first time, with this here?  Well, I'd tell you that the first time we were staying at Motel 6, but for some unknown reason, this time we'd been bumped up to the Ritz Carlton!  Which is why I would never have much patience for all the moaning, groaning and complaining that a few of the women were prone to.  I just wanted to grab them by the shoulders and give them a good shake, yelling "Have you no clue how fortunate you are?  You're living at Club Med, getting to travel the world, the company is covering all your living expenses, and you are able to stash your entire paycheck in the bank each month!  What's wrong with you?"  Instead, I bit my tongue.  A lot.

Anyhoo, we ran into Dan Reeh and his kids at the pool that day.  We floated and visited with him, while watching the kids play together, and after a while he said "Mark my words.  One of these days we're gonna look back on this time and say 'Ah, those were the days!'."  He was dead right.  I think even the whiners would agree with him now. Well, except maybe for that one terribly rigid, humorless woman, whom I will not name.  You see, if there's one thing I learned in hosting three exchange students and those years of volunteering with AFS, it's that you've just gotta be flexible and have a sense of humor, when it comes to dealing with other cultures.  Whenever I interviewed a prospective host family and found someone who just couldn't wait to teach these poor kids about the American way, the right way, of doing things, I saw a disaster waiting to happen.  What we needed, in both the students and the host families, was someone who couldn't wait to learn -- about other cultures and other ways of doing things.  Someone who could laugh when things didn't go as planned.  This poor, inflexible woman was not one of those, and did not last very long here.  But those of us who were able to bend and laugh and learn?  Why, we did just fine!