Dive In

Big shout-out and thanks to Gili T’s Blue Marlin Dive for making this post (and all my future under-water adventures) possible! Check out their wordpress blog here.

After watching a rather frightening movie about cave diving, I resolved that diving – of any kind – was something I had no interest in trying. Around the same time, I developed a fear of drowning while sitting on the bottom of a university pool and waiting to be “rescued” during life-guard training. While sitting there in the hazy blue, not knowing when someone would come for me as the seconds ticked and my need for air grew more and more desperate, panic tumbled over me.

The grainy glory days. I’m the one in the swimmies.

I had always loved swimming – so much so that my mom used to call me a “water rat” when I refused to get out of the public pool. I had no problem doing the “rescuing” as a life-guard trainee because I was confident in the water and I was in-control of the situation. But putting myself at the mercy of a rescuer, surrounded by a suddenly hostile environment and not knowing what was going to come next was well outside of my comfort zone.

Fast forward to my trip to Flores last June. After a truly magical two days of waking up to dolphins, swimming with mantas, and splashing around in a kaleidoscope of fish, my good friend Erin told me that she was getting her dive license in January. The prospect of diving brought back cinematic scenes of out-of-air divers drifting away into inky blue caves and frankly, scared the pants off me. And that, precisely, is why I agreed to do it.

Trying to get my under-the-sea legs…channeling my inner-frog perhaps?                         (Photo cred: Erin B.) 

If living in Indonesia has taught me anything, it is the collective human need to overcome our fears. Fear drives distrust, insecurity, bullying, hatred, and traps us in the little boxes we know as our “comfort zones.” Unwilling to dive into the unknown, we fanaticize about all the worst-case-scenarios that come with exiting our fortified boxes. Some days it is so much easier to stay curled up in my bed, my mosquito net shrouding me in the safety of a good book and a long nap. Goodness knows my life would have been “easier” had I just stayed home. But would it have been better? I think not.

I have come to believe that it is a requirement of all members of the human race to stretch into the unknown. Although this need sometimes runs counter to our centuries-old survival instincts, it is this very urge of nature – to risk – that makes us who we are as a species. It sent us to the moon, discovered a cure for polio, and fought for the rights of women and minorities to vote. And lest we think this ability to risk is a privilege afforded to only the most adventurous of souls among us, let me suggest that sometimes the most daring and difficult risks we take are those closest at hand – offering to help a neighbor in need, telling someone we love them, opening ourselves to the people around us.

And thus I found myself strapped to an air tank and plunging into the very thing I feared. I remember one training dive in particular. I had had a bit of trouble with water coming into my regulator (the mouth piece that allows you to breath and therefore stay alive) on the dive prior. It turned out to be no problem, but being the green, literally wet behind the ears diver that I was, it had spooked me. I was keyed up before we even plopped off the boat and into the water, and once we started our decent on this next dive, I looked around and saw…nothing. Just blue haze.

Panic gripped at my chest. As we drifted down, I felt as if I was falling into nothing: the unknown. It’s a weird feeling that everything in my brain – hard-wired for my species’ survival – was trying with all its might to resist. Where do you think you’re going?! Who knows what’s down there? What if your air tank explodes? What if you pass out? What if you discover a new sea monster, and then it eats you?! …but you know what’s up there on the surface? Air. LIFE GIVING AIR. For a few tortured seconds my brain was torn apart in a battle between instinct and will. I HATED not knowing where I was going, not feeling like I was in control.

(Photo cred: Me by way of Erin’s GoPro)

But then I looked at the people around me. I knew that this was the big moment for me – the moment when I would decide to trust my instructors, my buddy, the haze that surrounded me, myself. And you know what? I did. And as I gave myself over to the feeling of falling into the unknown, slowly, shapes and shades emerged – a new environment that I never would have had the privilege of seeing and experiencing, cuttlefish, sharks, sea turtles, and nudibranchs that I never would have known were down there had I allowed my fear to take control.

I was enlightened, empowered, and humbled by the ocean – the unknown becoming known all around me. I have become mesmerized by the underwater world and, while still definitely a newbie, have logged 20 dives (more coming in June!). My fear has been transformed to curiosity, confidence, and an insatiable desire to discover more.

I mean, seriously. Did you know these little nudis were down there?  (Photo cred: Mindmaker at English Wikipedia, CC BY-SA 3.0, https://commons.wikipedia.org/w/index.php?curid=10522727)

It seems to me that, more often than not, allowing ourselves to step boldly (or drift along a current) into the unknown never disappoints. Yes, it’s scary. But it is also necessary. Our ability to reach out to one another and experience what is foreign and sometimes uncomfortable, is perhaps more essential now than ever to our species’ survival.

I’ll leave you now with this brief challenge: What scares you? What is calling to you at the same time that it scares your pants off? Is it, perhaps, time for you to face that fear?

Good luck, Godspeed, and happy diving.

The Bromo Marathon: Lessons from the Volcano

There are days here with Peace Corps in Indonesia when I think, if it hasn’t happened already, I’m going to lose my mind.

Things that I took for granted as being easy back home are not always so easy here. Every day I am trying to communicate in a new language, puzzle together a foreign culture, and navigate an unfamiliar landscape. I am occasionally lost and frequently confused. One day can go from maddeningly frustrating to “THIS IS THE BEST DAY OF MY LIFE!” in a matter of seconds. And that is exhausting.

When I left for a weekend of volunteering at the Bromo Marathon this past Friday, I was already feeling a bit worn thin. If you had told me on Friday as I rambled through the rice paddies and out of my community the amount of effort, confusion, and discomfort that would be involved in achieving my long-anticipated weekend away, I probably would have disembarked and turned back. But I am so very glad I didn’t.

Yogyakarta: Take One

This past week, I spent a much needed weekend-away in the city of Yogyakarta (pronounced “Jogyakarta”). Located in Central Java, Yogyakarta is the cultural capital of the island. According to Lonely Planet, “If Jakarta is Java’s financial and industrial powerhouse, Yogyakarta is its soul.”

My dear friend Mona (my host and tour guide) and me at Malioboro Street – a main attraction for tourists who want to do a little shopping and maybe take a ride in a horse drawn cart.

Yogyakarta is home to unfathomable depths of Javanese culture, and on my first visit I feel like I barely put my toes in the water. But even with just two nights to spare, the cultural richness of the area – which is still headed by a sultan – was immediately apparent. Although Yogyakarta is now home to many lively, modern restaurants and attractions (thanks in part to a large student population), the veins of the city’s history run deep. In short, this past weekend was a time to relax and calm my nerves over a Starbucks coffee, but also to get a little taste of Java’s vast cultural heritage – a combination that is perhaps best found in the city of Yogyakarta.

A trendy little back street – home to some pretty neat art-shops. Here you can see this modern wall mural making a nod to the past – the figure to the left is from traditional puppetry called “Wayang”

I hope you enjoy these first snapshots of my Javanese experience in Yogyakarta!

Taman Sari (Spirit Garden)

Also known in Dutch as “Waterkasteel” (or Water Castle), this palatial complex of pools, waterways, and hidden rooms was built between 1758 and 1765 as a pleasure park for the Sultan. Although much of it is now destroyed or in ruins (the result of war and an 1865 earth quake), the bathing pools have been restored. The ornate stonework that remains is nothing short of breathtaking.

My gracious tour guides – all students at a local university.

The stone work was amazing!

It’s said that the Sultan would choose his women while watching them bathe in these pools.

Here you can see a woman making batik fabric along side some examples of traditional Wayang shadow puppets (on the table). Both are traditional arts of Java and hold deep cultural and historical significance.

Here is a Wayang puppet in progress. Made out of water buffalo hide, this puppet will later be painted to portray a certain character in the Wayang story-line.

The sign reads “Watch Your Head” – these buildings were not made for tall people.

Taman Sari has a series of hidden passages that lead to places like this. Not sure what it is for, but it looked pretty cool!

 

Some of the ruins.

Kraton (The Sultan’s Palace)

Inside the Kraton

The Sultan’s Palace is located within what is essentially a walled city that currently houses around 25,000 people, some of whom still work for the Sultan himself.

Part of the sultanate’s family tree – in traditional Javanese writing.

Traditional Javanese culture has a concept that power emanates from the center. For this reason, the Kraton’s innermost buildings are where the Sultan still resides – his concentrated power radiating to the rest of the Kraton and, indeed, to the rest of the island of Java. This part of the Kraton was constructed between 1755 and 1756 and is a very impressive example of traditional Javanese palace architecture. In the 1920’s, however, various stylistic touches were added that clearly show European influence.

It’s Javanese, it’s European, it might even be a little bit Chinese…but whatever it is, it represents the myriad influences that have passed through this island.

I wouldn’t mind being invited for dinner here…although I probably wouldn’t stop staring at the ceiling.

Traditional Wayang shadow puppets.

We just missed the performance – another reason to go back!

 

 

 

 

 

 

I look forward to going back to Yogyakarta, hopefully soon! There is so much I haven’t seen yet, and you can be sure that I will share it with you when I do!

We couldn’t resist a ride in a “dokar” – or horse drawn cart. Special thanks to Mona for showing me around! Vielen Dank!!!

Eid Mubarak

This past week followers of Islam across the World celebrated one of their biggest holidays: Eid al-Fitr, or as it is known here in Indonesia, Idul Fitri.

Idul Fitri marks the end of the fasting month of Ramadan, and is a time to ask forgiveness for the sins of the past year and to feast together with family and friends. Eid refers to a variety of Islamic festivals, and during a day of Eid, Muslims are forbidden from fasting. It is a day to celebrate and to come together as a community. Indonesian Muslims greet their neighbors and relations with, “Eid Mubarak” (Blessed Eid) and “Mohon maaf lahir dan batin” (I ask forgiveness for transgressions both seen and unseen.)

Ramadan ends in fireworks, drums, large gatherings of people, and lots and lots of food. Tables are set with jars of snacks and sweets, and families travel from house to house of neighbors and relatives to eat, celebrate, and forgive. Children, much to their delight, are given pocket-money by older adults in the family. The celebration of Idul Fitri technically lasts two days, but families will often travel to visit relatives further afield, or coworkers will gather during the following week.

Table set with sweets and snacks to share with family and neighbors.

Tape (tah-pay) or fermented rice. Comes in white or purple- sweet and delicious!

In fact, so many people travel during Idul Fitri in Indonesia that it is known as one of the largest temporary human migrations in the World. Called either “mudik” or “pulang kampung” (return to the village), families return home to where they or their parents were born. I wondered about the amount of road repair going on in the months leading up to Idul Fitri. I thought it was a nice gesture from the government to do a little infrastructural improvement before the holiday. When, however, I was invited to “mudik” with my counterpart teacher and her family to her inlaw’s home in Tulungagung, I saw first-hand that this was not simply a kind gesture. With the number of cars and motorbikes on the road (and the often poor state of those roads), and people returning to their home-villages in droves, it is absolutely necessary. And I thought Christmas traffic was bad!

Enjoying Tulungagung City Square with my counterpart teacher and her family. They were kind enough to adopt me into their family for the holiday!

But getting an opportunity to take part in this “migration” was truly a treat. I was invited with warmth and welcome into so many homes. I have shaken more hands than I can count, impressed many an Indonesian with my ability to speak even just a few mispronounced words of Javanese, and eaten more cookies and tape (not the sticky adhesive, but traditional fermented rice) than I probably should have. I was graciously given a glimpse into family life here on the island of Java during one of the most special holidays of the year. I was, once again, welcomed with open arms and open hearts. I never cease to be amazed by the incredible hospitality I have found here.

Extended family in Tulungagung.

And we ended it all with a trip to the beach, which, if you have read my earlier posts, you know I always love!

At the beach!

After exhausting ourselves in the waves, we stopped from some smoked fish on the way home.

If you know me well, you know that Christmas is one of my absolute favorite things in the world. I love the story and significance, the lights, the music, the wrapping paper, the cookies, the Starbucks special cups and Christmas flavors, but, most of all, the time spent with family. Getting to see the cultural equivalent here in Indonesia of families and neighbors eating and celebrating together was an experience beyond worth, and one that I will hold close to my heart forever.

One last picture of my counterpart’s husband and children playing in the ocean – the cutest!

Whether you are in the midst of summer vacation, work, or – like here in Indonesia – finishing up the festivities of Eid al-Fitr, I wish you all the best and “mohon maaf lahir dan batin!”