MALANG!!
I am in Malang! The flight here was short and surprisingly not too bumpy—Layne and I flew Sriajaya Air, which had a different terminal and seemed slightly unsafe. Once we got above the Jakarta fog though, it was a beautiful ride. We could see the water and the coastline, and we flew past a smoking volcano! I happened to look out the window as we were coming into Malang, and a volcano was billowing smoke into the air. No one else on the plane seemed to think it was cause to panic, so I didn’t either—but we were pretty close to that volcano.
The Malang airport is only a year old, and previously used for military planes. So there was only one runway and the terminal was a small building with two rooms. We waited for our luggage to be “offloaded,” meaning it was driven to the side of the room we were in and dumped on the ground. Once we had our bags, we went outside to meet the people from our school. They were ecstatic to see us! My contacts were Pak Tedy, the vice-principal of SMA 3 Malang, Ibu Haryadi, and Suharyadi, a younger English teacher at the school that I’ve been e-mailing for a few months.
We stopped briefly at a mosque so Pak Tedy and Suharyadi could pray—it was Friday, the holy day for Muslims. Men must go to the mosque at noon, but women pray in their homes. I sat in the car with Ibu and used my limited vocab to tell her my age and religion (one of the first things she asked). The men only prayed for a short time, and then we drove to SMA 3. Malang is beautiful, full of trees, wide streets, and a cool breeze, thank God. One more week of Jakarta heat and I would have lost it. It’s surrounded by mountains and Layne and I can’t wait to go hiking.
We reached the school and went inside to meet the principal and some of the other teachers. The principal’s name is Tri Soeharno, which is funny because that was the name of Indonesia’s first president after they won independence from the Netherlands. He told me to call him Pak Tri though. He really doesn’t know any English, and he read a letter out loud that someone else must have prepared—it was written in English, but he didn’t know how to pronounce any of the words. There were a few other male teachers there, and besides Suharyadi, none of them knew passable English. And, to make things more difficult, they don’t really speak Indonesia either! They know it, but since I’m in East Java now, most people speak Javanese. I’ve learned a few phrases and it is MUCH harder than Bahasa Indonesia. The words are close to impossible for me to pronounce or distinguish when I hear other people speaking. I’ve gotten offers from a few teachers to teach me Javanese if I teach them English, so hopefully I can make some progress.
They told me they had gotten me an American lunch and then gave me fried chicken, which I thought was really funny. After we ate Suharyadi took me on a tour of the school. It’s very bright and nice, some of the classrooms are open air and there is a big courtyard/playground in back. It’s painted yellow and orange, so the sunlight illuminates most of the rooms. I met a few students and their English is really very good—much better than the people at AMINEF had led us to believe. I’m excited to work with them and try to help them to achieve fluency.
After the tour and a short walk around the block, I finally went to my house! Pak Tedy, Suharyadi, Pak Tri, and his wife all came. It’s one story and the floors are all made of beautiful white and pink marble. There is a kitchen, three bedrooms, a living room, and a greeting room in front. Two men who worked for the school kept running in and out, bringing in more furniture—I had no idea where they were getting it from. First they had a tiny bed in my room—smaller than a twin and too short for me. They asked if it was OK, and I said yes, but I guess not quickly enough…because they shouted a bunch of Indonesian and ran outside, and a few minutes later there was a queen size bed in my room. With cow sheets on it haha. There’s no frame so I’m essentially sleeping on the floor, but I think that’s how people sleep here so it’s OK with me.
Everyone is so anxious to please me, it makes me feel a little guilty. They want things to be perfect for me, and they really bend over backwards to help. We went shopping after setting up the house and they insisted on paying for me, even though I’m sure I’m getting paid much more a month by the US government then they make in a few months working in Malang. While we were out I met an Australian guy who just finished Mohamadia University, and of course since I was the only other bule he had seen in a few months, he came over and introduced himself and invited me to a party at his house in a week. Pak Tedy was really cute, he immediately pulled out his phone and got the Australian’s number, and then told me that I was like his daughter and he would protect me. He wants me to go to his house sometime soon and meet his wife and five children.
I spent the rest of the night organizing, but I’m still missing lots of things like a fridge, stove, dressers, and power strips, so there’s only so much I could do. The street is very loud at night—I guess I didn’t realize that when I was staying on the ninth floor of the Aryaduta Hotel haha. But the noise isn’t too bad, and the air is fresh, so it doesn’t really bother me. Around nine the power started going out sporadically, so I went to bed.
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