"Leaving never hurt as much as being left behind."*

There’s a scene in the final High School Musical film that keeps coming back to me these days. Vanessa Ann Hudgens is singing her plight in “Just Walk Away” as objects periodically disappear from her bedroom walls, signifying her packing up and moving off to college. Two reasons this image keeps coming to me: 

1. I’ve given singing this song in my room a whirl to see if she had something there with the magic packing. No dice.
2. It's a nice little capture of the process of transition…when you’re lucky enough to be the person leaving.**

I think of this as I clean out my closet, prepare kenang-kenangan (gifts) for people, go through the motions of entering classes. There’s a lot on my mind. There is a short time left with Indonesians I love who I may never see again in a place I might never get to come back to. There are demands for my time, and I seem to always want to be alone. Or want to just sit and watch what’s going on rather than be a part of it. A kind of paralysis. And my soul is tired. 

One PCV from our original group didn’t tell any of his friends that he was joining Peace Corps before he left the U.S. “Yeah, my friend called me when we were going to the airport in San Francisco, and I just didn’t pick up.” To me, this was amazing. I wanted to do this. Just go. No pomp. Just fade out. Drop the mike and be gone.

But, now, I realize this is what we call “selfish”. Something I’m quite familiar with. I get to do the leaving. Again. It might seem hard, and, sure, there are parts of it that are. For instance, thinking of adjusting to life back in America sometimes scares me way more than leaving for Peace Corps ever did.

My thoughts, though, turn to my friends, family, and neighbors in my village here who must be suffering whiplash from having just gotten used to me as a consistent part of the community, but now are probably bewildered by what my leaving means for our relationships. These relationships that are built on front porch or teacher room chats or passing “mangga”s (hello/goodbye) as I coast by on my bike are ones that are harder to figure out how to continue or close. Surely, it’s not that I’m that great; it’s just got to be super confusing.

• I think about the little kids in my desa who call me ‘Tante Erin’, or ‘Aunt Erin’, who one day had a color-changing bule (they enjoy how I turn red when I run) who gave them high fives, and, all of a sudden, one day - this girl disappears. 

 

• I think of my host niece who waited for me to come home basically every school day for two years who will now have to figure out how emails will replace in-person sing-alongs and bike rides. She’ll eventually have to work out for herself what box to put me in as she grows older and moves further away from the time we had here together.

• I think of my friend, who I caught crying into her jilbab on one of our last bus rides home together, who must be totally befuddled at what happens now - who must be feeling like she’s about to be abandoned.   

Yeah, the leaving gig is definitely easier. I’ll take that option.

So, I’m trying to make it through the gifts and good-byes, even if they aren’t what I might choose for myself. We’ll see if I can break paralysis. We’ll see if I can suck it up enough and muster some way to thank a community for supporting me and loving me these past two years.

We’ll see. 

About a year ago, Ms Olif and I were walking from the Peace Corps office where we had just left a bunch of other PCVs. Heading to catch a bus back home to our village, she asked me, "Are you sad when you say good-bye to your friends?"

We had just spent a week in training with all the PCVs in my group as well as their counterparts. I thought about it a bit and said, "These past couple years, it seems I am always leaving somebody. You sort of just have to get used to it or deal with it somehow."

So, here we go again…. 

*Special thanks to Bill for telling me of this song – which I downloaded before I got on the plane in San Francisco 2 years ago.
**Hats off to Kenny Ortega for once again artistically nailing complex emotions in a musical number. You outdo yourself, sir.

Please Don’t Stop the Music

I haven’t done a whole lotta music listening during my time here. I mean, for sure, I get an overdose of deafening dangdut, bus musicians, the singing of Islamic prayers, and the cycling of the five American pop songs people like to listen to here, but choosing to sit and listen to music I like is something I didn’t realize I hadn't done in awhile. 

Songs remind.  They bring up emotions. They connect. It’s easy to get caught up listening to tunes and find yourself at a 1am bedtime when the call to prayer/rooster wake-up call is 4:30am. It’s possible I unconsciously avoided listening to music I like so as to sidestep the reminiscing to focus on new experiences.

However, a couple of weekends ago, I was letting Ms. Olif listen to my ipod as we were travelling. She got a dose of Clash, Radiohead, Thermals, Wilco, and Rilo Kiley. The ear bud conveniently slipped from beneath her jilbab by the fifth song. Hmm. Anyway, as she dozed off, I found a playlist called “Friends and Family” on my ipod. I forgot I made this more than 2 years ago, and I finally allowed myself to indulge in a listen. It was soothing to travel by bus along these Indonesian scenes that have grown so familiar and ordinary to me - and have the songs and thoughts of my family and friends from home with me as my new life passed by. Bringing it all together. A nice preparation for my transition.


1 week left in my village. This is incomprehensible to me.

Folks from home:  So, below is the list if you want to take a gander to find the song(s) that remind me of you. This is by no means a complete list and certainly won’t win any music compilation awards. It’s about the memories, people.  

“Thriller” – MJ “Let’s Hang On” – Barry Manilow “Adventure” – Be Your Own Pet "Just Can’t Get Enough" – Depeche Mode "Encrypted" – The Dirtbombs "Mona Lisas and Mad Hatters" – Elton John "She Don’t Use Jelly" – The Flaming Lips "One Time" – Justin Bieber "Peaches" – Kristen Hall "Gloria" – Laura Branigan "Float On" – Modest Mouse "It Takes Two" – Rob Base and DJ Easy Rock "Lights Out" – Santigold "I Got You" – Split Endz "Pearl Harbor Sucks" – TEAM America "Psycho Killer" – Talking Heads "Big Pimpin" – Jay Z "Everything in Its Right Place" – Radiohead "Leave It All to Me" – Miranda Cosgrove "Australia" – Shins "America" – Neil Diamond "Come Go With Me" – The Dell Vikings

"I Gotta Feeling" – Black Eyed Peas "Country House" – Blur "Lua" – Bright Eyes "Mockingbird" – James Taylor, Carly Simon "I Need All the Friends I Can Get" – Camera Obscura "No Quiero" – Davila 666 "Hounds of Love" – The Futureheads "Constructive Summer" – The Hold Steady "You Can Do It" – Ice Cube "Head to Toe" – Lisa Lisa and Cult Jam "Party in the USA" – Miley Cyrus "Question" – Old 97s "Freight Elevator" – The Roger Sisters "Girlfriend in a Coma" – The Smiths "Gimme No Crack" – Shinehead "Outtasite (Outta Mind)" – Wilco "Here’s Your Future" – Thermals "El Scorcho" – Weezer "Slideshow" – Travis "All These Things That I’ve Done" – Killers

"Born to Run" – Bruce Springsteen  "Train in Vain" – Clash "Bring It (Snakes on a Plane)" – Cobra Starship "The Boys Are Back" - Zac Effron "We Used to Be Friends" – The Dandy Warhols "Free Love Freeway" – David Brent The Night Court Theme Song "NYC" – Interpol "Sante Fe" – Christian Bale (as Jack Kelly) "SOS" – Jonas Brothers "Rebellion (Lies)" – The Arcade Fire "This Dirty Old Town" – The Pogues "Since You Been Gone" – Kelly Clarkson "Man in the Mirror" – MJ "Start a War" – The National "Cool It Now" – New Edition "Oh What a World" – Rufus Wainright "KRS One" – Sublime "Modern Girl" – Sleater Kinney "Hey" - Pixies "I Feel Home" – OAR "Good to Be on the Road Back Home" – Cornershop

Graduation
Also, below are photos of how we didn't stop the music at graduation this past week. 

The opening choir. 

The girls jumped up in excitement when the boys started performing hadroh (Islamic singing with drums) as it might be the closest they get to a boy band. 

 Until our other boy band took the stage. 

Mufid and I sang "I'm Yours" by Jason Mraz because it was the only song Abadi knew how to play that I knew ten words to. Should video ever surface of this performance, you will see those ten words are pretty much all I remembered. Poor guys. 

Much to my surprise and enjoyment, a dance party broke out during the karaoke portion. 

 My girl, Nisa, belting one out. 

Other photo fun: 

Holding Out For a Hero

I pondered moms when I was in nursery school. I remember feeling sorry for Ann McCleskey as we compared lunchboxes (mine was Garfield, hers was Mork and Mindy) because her mom wasn’t as pretty as my mom. I felt myself lucky in the mom draw. That was the only standard of measurement by which I gauged mothers when I was five. Now, my standards have broadened a bit, and I still consider myself very lucky in the mom draw. Thanks, Marge.*

Here, when I ask students who their heroes are, almost all, no matter what age, will answer "my mother and father". At first, this was mildly annoying as I hoped to garner some useful cultural knowledge from their responses. I thought I'd be able to identify the respected leaders, musicians, athletes, actors, reality show stars, etc. But, nope. Mom and Pops. Every time. 

It is pretty great if you think about it. Moms and Dads should be the heroes. Regarding Moms, I found myself lucky, not just the once, but multiple times in the mom pick. In the course of my time in Indonesia, I have gained two additional ibus, or mother figures, who have taken care of me as if I was their own daughter. These strong women have looked out for me, taught me, packed my lunches, shared their stories with me, cried to me, cried with me, and I can't imagine how I would have gotten through life here without their guidance and support. I want to give them some blog love in honor of Mother's Day week in U.S. They are only two of the many, many amazing Indonesian women who have inspired me in my time here.

Like Bonnie Tyler, if I was holding out for a hero, I need look no further....


Bunda (Sri Mulyanah) 
My bunda (mother) from Peace Corps training is a principal of an elementary school. Along with my ayah (father), she has raised three kids and put them through university. She values education, kick starts sing-alongs with the rest of the family in the living room, likes to discuss culture and ideas, coaches my Indonesian, and enjoys a nice Korean telenovela. In addition, she wakes up early every morning to pray, shop, cook, and get herself ready to go to school. 

She is the leader of the family and a force. 

Here, she is pictured with her best friend, who I call "Mama" who happens to be Christian. They really get a kick out of the fact that they are best friends from two different religions, and they usually meet up to celebrate each other's holidays. 

Bunda also enjoys grabbing onto me, as shown in photo. 

Bu Yun
My ibu from my permanent site is extremely patient, supportive, discerning, and funny. She tells a good story and does a mean impression of my brother, Mike, who came to visit me once. My friend, Trish, relayed this in an email home to my family:   

"Basically, we were sitting around the living room one day, Erin and the family were all speaking to each other in Indonesian so I wasn't really following much of the conversation.  Then suddenly some combination of Erin's Ibu's hand gestures, the change in her level of animation, and the fact that Erin looked like she was about to wet herself signaled to me that her Ibu was in the middle of an epic tale. Apparently the story involves running into Mike in the middle of the night on his way to the bathroom.  The high point in the retelling comes when 70-year-old, 5' Ibu breaks Indonesian for just a second to make a face that supposed to be Mike's and says in what I think is the only English I heard her speak the entire trip, "Uhhhhhhh, morning?"  It was amazing."

My ibu sells clothes at a market, so she wakes up at about 4am to shop, clean, pray, cook, and then she takes a bus to the pasar only to come back in the afternoon to cook and clean again. She never really seems to sleep except for the occasional cat nap (we actually do have a few cats who, at times, can be seen napping alongside her). My ibu, along with my bapak (father), raised her niece from when she was two years-old after losing their only son.**

Bu Yun enjoys Indonesian soap operas, battling mosquitos, caring for her new granddaughter,  and sweeping. She likes to play it straight in photos and in first meetings, but she's a good time. I could spend hours on the porch just hanging out and chatting with her.  
 

My current ibu is not much of a grabber. I am planning a hug attempt when I leave, but I am preparing myself for the very real possibility that this could go terribly wrong. 

Team Padangan - Bu Olif and Bu Yurike

From left: Bu Yurike, Bu Olif, and me

Bu Olif is a staple in this blog. As my bodyguard, my first friend here, and my general adviser on all things cultural, I can easily say that I never would have made it without her. She is quiet, strong, smart, extremely caring, independent, and a great teacher. 

As the first in her family to go to college, she guided her younger brother in his school choices for junior high and high school to make sure he could get into a good university. He is now a successful computer programmer living in Jakarta. To me, Ms Olif represents just how quickly Indonesia is moving. She got herself and her brother into college with no prior precedent within her family, and I am still amazed at how she did this.

Bu Yurike moved here from Bali this semester. Having a new counterpart so late in the game could have been disastrous, but thank the glories she has been a lynchpin in the Padangan English teaching team. She is confident, capable, strict. She drives a car (rare here), gets to the point, and gets things done. She is a leader. Watching her teach, she brings a fresh perspective of outside places and broad thinking to our students.

There couldn't be two personalities more different, but these two special ladies, each in their own way, show me every day what it means to be a strong woman and teacher. I am proud to have them as my friends.

Ila and Ayuk

Ila and Ayuk

My best friends in the village are 8 and 11, respectively. Most every day, for two years, I have looked to my quiet, respectful, fun-loving, helpful nieces to guide me through life, language, and culture here. They give it to me straight when I mispronounce an Indonesian or Javanese word and have my back when I need to cross the street or make a snack box. 

Ila, in particular, is my sidekick, and is the first to remind me of my American niece or nephew's birthdays or call me when I'm traveling just to check up on what I'm doing. She can bear a seven-hour journey crammed in a car with little-to-no breathing room with no complaints, and she has been my marketing director for recruiting kids to study English at my house.

Ila, Ayuk, and I hang out, do homework, sing One Direction songs, make crafts. It's the best of life.

Lia
I often tell my six-year-old neighbor Lia that she is one of my heroes. I'm not sure she believes me, but it is very true. 

She rides bikes five times her size, cartwheels across the jalan with ease, leads our Gang Dua (our street) kids in games, fruit-picking, and varying schemes. She's championed through hospital visits with typhus, and she has yet to learn of society-imposed gender roles (curse the day if she ever does). 

She generally embodies the spirit and fun of life. The girl's got spunk. I can't wait to see what she gets up to in her later years as it can only be good things. 

I hope I am like her when I grow up.  

From left to right - 
FRONT: Bu Olif, Bu Prapti, Bu Yurike; 
MIDDLE:Pak Cipto, me, Bu Ci'ut, PCV Mary, Bu Candra, 
Bu Indah, Bu Fitri, Bu Atik; 
BACK: PCV Liz, Bu Nisya, PCV Martine; Not pictured: PCV Alex Gems

The Women (and Men) of IGLOW
Facebook and these PC blogs have been saturated with references to IGLOW (Indonesian Girls Leading Our World). Sorry to add my trickle to the flood, but here, in Bojonegoro, a wonderful team of Indonesian counterparts and PCVs somehow successfully pulled off a 3-day camp for high school females. 

Thanks to their hard work, organization, presentations, and willingness to risk sleeping in a room rumored to have ghosts, our students experienced a rich weekend of making new friends and learning. Students attended sessions on women's health, goal-setting, team-building, leadership, and learned about influential women from around the world. 

The team pictured above and the 65 amazing high school girls of camp IGLOW Bojonegoro 2013 are all my heroes. 

The IGLOW Bojo girls are the future.

And they are on FI-RE!

Special Hero Shout Out:  to both gals and guys of PC Indonesia group ID7. Starting out on a new journey and carrying the torch of the Peace Corps Indonesia program - way to be! Thanks also for re-energizing me in my last days. You are my newest heroes. 

Welcome to the family, and let me know if there is anything I can ever do to help. I'll see you on the other side in T-minus 746 days (OK, yeah, probably not a good idea to count. Just focus on today, and you'll do fine).

I can't wait to see all you get up to here. PC Indo Love!

ID7 photo taken by Dwi Tjahjoko

*Most especially -  for planning my epic birthday parties and letting me eat the frosting right out of the tub.
**Several women I know have either lost children and taken on relatives children or have given their own children to other family members to raise if they have trouble conceiving. 

People Who Dare

Mrs. Goldstone, my 12^th grade English teacher, used to mark on my papers “inconsistency is the hobgoblin of little minds."* She would alternate between this quote and “awk” for the frequent awkward sentence structures I’d throw out there (awkward sentence structures remain one of my trademarks to this day. You’re welcome). 

There are people in our lives who support us always and tell us we’re great and special. This is wonderful and necessary to one’s self esteem. If I told one of our family friends, Mrs. Biasotti, that I was going to become a drug dealer, she’d reply with something like, “That’s so great! So industrious of you in a tough economy. And you really have the people skills to do it!” 

There are, however, those people who point out when we’re “awk”. There are people who tell us when we need to shape up or that maybe we’re being a bit of a jerk. We might hate these people a little when they point out such things or think perhaps we know better, but thank goodness for them.   

I’ve been thinking about these people a bit lately because of how rare they are in the adult years (and how especially rare they are in an uberpolite culture such as this. I miss yelling :( ). For someone to take the time and tell you, lovingly, that you are being an asshole or that you’re off your game, happens a lot less as you get older. People are just too busy or don’t care enough to do it. As an adult, you sort have to read the signs and figure it out for yourself.

So, as another thing Peace Corps has given me time to appreciate – thank you to all of those who put me in my place through the years. 

• A PC staff member who challenged us, not only to grow up, but to realize that maybe in the process of analyzing and critiquing things here, we conveniently avoid examining our own personal spirituality.

• A teaching counterpart who called me out on ignoring people and basically being kind of an asshole lately (no matter how much I’d love her to use that word, sadly, it was expressed in a more civil manner. We’re still making an effort to seamlessly work the word “sucks” into conversations). 

• A PCV pal who openly expressed her frustration with me and my less-than-clear decoration assembly instructions. 

• An RPCV friend (Returned Peace Corps Volunteer) who confirmed that trying Peace Corps was no big deal in the grand scheme and provided her matter-of-fact perspective to “just leave if you don’t like it." Any daunting thoughts immediately erased. 

• My brother giving it to me straight when what I write is incomprehensible. Mrs. Goldstone's work continues.

• My tough, expressionless college adviser trying to smack some sense into me, “Look, you need to focus and help yourself before you can help everyone else.”

• My favorite, crazy Western Civ professor patiently hearing out my cliché realizations of history and life, breaking down how things really are, and then consoling my rocked world by telling me, “You have a wonderful mind.” 

• When flexing my indecision and procrastination over declaring a major, writing a speech, or what have you…my aunt cutting me off during my rants and laying it down for me…”sometimes you gotta go Nike and 'Just do it.'"That’s it. Get it done. 

• An old roommate making me laugh so hard over nothing in the library. At the time, I hated her for getting everyone at the surrounding tables annoyed with us, but I realize now she was teaching me a valuable lesson – how to twist ‘nothing’ into something so hilarious that you can’t control yourself. This skill is actually one of the key ingredients for survival, I think. 

• For all those who made fun of how I say "waiting on line" instead of "waiting in line" or "sleigh-riding" rather than "sledding". You helped prepare me for the world.

• A crazy, smart Harvard grad breaking molds and showing me that pretty much anything is possible - anything is within my reach. Except, of course, maybe Harvard. 

• My co-worker and friend making international travel seem so simple and shutting down any reason I had to not get out there and see the world. 

• My college pal challenging me not to listen to or get discouraged by tightly-wound and dream-crushing friends - to just suck it up and run that marathon.  

• My sister keeping me in check and telling me exactly when my priorities are out of whack.

• My old friend who openly expressed disappointment in me when I accepted my first corporate job. “You can do so much more.” While I think I ended up doing quite a bit at that brief, ten-year job, this thought always stayed with me. Thanks.

• Watching a cross country runner throw up beside the track mid-workout and then keep going. My coach catching the look of horror on my face and telling me, “That’s what it takes. That’s why she’ll win.”

• Another coach yelling at me during races, “You’re stronger than you think you are. And stop laughing while you’re running!”

• My first boyfriend challenging me in high school that it really is ok to be yourself…whoever that may be. 

• My friends in "My Mother's House" for teaching me the world is a lot bigger and harder than what I knew. And for clarifying what "making out" meant. And that roller skating to Rob Base in the basement is pretty much the most awesome fun you can ever have.

• My 1^st grade teacher who scolded the begeesuz out of us, but, by golly, I learned to read. 

• A family friend** who challenged my knowledge of my brother when I was little. After climbing up onto the bench they used at their kitchen table to rotary-dial my house from theirs, I confirmed that my brother was, indeed, color-blind as she contested. In one fell swoop, I learned the hard way never to speak with authority on things I clearly had no idea about. And perhaps that I should get to know my brother a bit better.
  

These people tell us how it is, sometimes with little regard for sensitivities. They can tell us when we’ve strayed from what we set out to do or who we are. They can test us and force us to take stock of our true priorities and realize the boundaries of our own morals and values. Sometimes, they not only force us to go beyond what we think is doable, but they challenge us to realize that stretching, doing what we didn’t think we were strong enough or smart enough to do – this going beyond – it’s actually who we are. 

So, terima kasih, folks. Let's keep the hard truth coming.  

*As pointed out by Mas Tim in comments below, this is a misquote. I do remember her getting the quote wrong, but now I must go back to my files and verify exactly what was written. TBD. Either way, I think what she was going for is that I was a poor writer and an unclear communicator. Yup, still working on that...

**At age 6, she also taught me that not everyone eats Eggo waffles for breakfast. This realization was enough to get me to call off the sleepover we'd planned.

To be…or to be busy – THAT is the question

"Ms. Erin, you are always so busy.”

Busy.*

What once was a standard and required state of being a mere two years ago has turned into a 4-letter word. Here, 'busy' has another meaning. When someone utters these words to me, I immediately wince because, in my community, this statement really means, "Ms. Erin, you don't have time for me."

Getting Things Done
In the early days at my site with no schedule and nowhere to be in particular, I’d immediately update my calendar and make a list of tasks that needed to get done to feel I was moving forward in my daily existence. Run, wash clothes, clean, study Indonesian, prepare lesson plans for school, so on and so forth. On slow days, the knowledge that I’d swept my room, taken all of my required daily Peace Corps medications, and trimmed my nails was enough to make me feel like I was really accomplishing something (for more on making up things to keep me busy, check out prior post "Science Fairs and 'I Don't Care's").

Getting things done.

Gets me to thinking….why do I require this completion of tasks, no matter how inconsequential they may be, to make me feel whole? Sure, my ibu gets her sweeping done, the trash gets burned, and we’ve never gone hungry as the meals get cooked, but I doubt she needs this endless list of items to complete to feel satisfied in her life. Her life is certainly as full, if not, fuller and more fruitful than mine.

Pace of Things Here
In the early days at my school, I’d look around at teachers just sitting in the teacher room. Not on a computer, not on a phone, not reading a book.  Maybe occasionally chatting, but for the most part, just sitting. Being.

Our ruang guru, or teacher room, in a rare 
moment when we are all glued to our laptops.

I remember thinking I’d go crazy doing that. I need to be doing something. I need music. I need a book. I need to constantly check for the immediate gratification and validation that a Facebook like brings. “So much wasted time” is all I could think. Just go home. You could be doing so many other things.

Now, I sort of admire it. I’ve certainly stretched my ability to “just be” here. Just sit in the teacher room or on a bus for what might be hours. And take what comes. Have a chat with someone. Think things over. Just enjoy the life that’s happening around me. Or embracing the revelations of life in these moments like…

• realizing my family taught me the meaning of life from day 1, and how lucky I am to have that foundation now to try and share with other people... 

• or how the evolution of Neil Patrick Harris’ career** may be one of the greatest of my generation… 

• or how so many of the problems of the world come down to varying core values and how daunting and seemingly impossible bridging those differences can sometimes appear (look for upcoming post entitled “Big News! We are All Indeed Different!”)...

• or how I want to make it a mission to bring back “take it easy” as an acceptable departing phrase…. 

• or generally spending time in my own head, getting to know the inner array of nooks and crannies, for better or worse (oh my gosh, that’s the first time I have thought of an English muffin in awhile….oh man)... 

• and reflecting on the genius of the band 2ge+her*** and wondering why we don’t talk about them more (Chris Farley’s brother with braces in a boy band…I'm unclear as to why we don't partake in this joy on a daily basis). 

This way of being - it’s liberating. One of my favorite things has been hanging out on my porch with my ibu and my host nieces, Ila and Ayuk. Just sitting and waiting for the rain to come.

It’s pretty much what life is all about.

I Want to “Be”
I recognize the value of this slower pace of life now so much more than I did two years ago, and one could argue I’ve become somewhat Indonesian myself in regard to time or the standard schedule interruptions that come.

For example, today I had only one late class scheduled, so I planned to get up early to do laundry and run. At 4am I get a text that we must report for senam (teacher aerobics at school) at 5:45am. Personal plans foiled, but no biggie. Once at school, I track down one of my teaching counterparts to confirm what we will do in class today, and he says there will be no class today because we will have a meeting instead. Gotcha.

My reactions to all of these things are pretty even keel now. Sure, I don’t have any clean clothes for a trip with my family tomorrow. Sure, coming to school especially when there is no class usually means sitting around when I could be home getting these other things done. Sure, these changes are inconsiderate of anything people already had planned. But now, I sort of appreciate these burps that make up my life. 

• First off, things rarely ever go exactly according to plan. I don’t know when we convinced ourselves that a planned, smoothly paved route is a normal way of life. Or that we truly have full control over our lives. I am grateful Indonesia brought me back to reality and helped me prepare for the more natural interruptions that I think life really brings with it. Granted, we could probably at least pick a date for graduation more than a couple weeks in advance, but hey, different strokes….

• Second, as a person who gets charged up pretty easily, these interruptions have helped me practice how to swallow my initial reactions and sit on them a bit more. Grace has never been my forte. Luckily, I have the exercises Indonesia presents to me and my own personal PCV grace guru (thanks, MF) to tutor me on how to hone my calm and keep the cool.  

• People sometimes just have better ideas than I do. I make plans and schedule based on what I think is best, but having to relinquish control, as so often happens here, I’ve gotten to experience great things I never knew I'd enjoy – like stand in fire, learn to long jump, or witness an uprising of teachers wanting to go to an amusement park. 

But I’m the Worst
Regardless of all this exercise and practice in “being”, it's hard to escape the fact that I just like getting things done. I like to feel in control. After that teacher aerobics today and pinning down the start time of the impromptu meeting (9:30am, which really meant it could start anywhere from 10am to 11:30am), I biked home, did my laundry, texted plans for an upcoming Peace Corps project, finished a book I was reading, and then biked back to school to attend the meeting. You can take the girl out of the city….

I’ve got a long way to go. Ah, balance, you’re a slippery little sucker. 

Take It Home
One reason I joined Peace Corps was to become a nice person again. In New York and at my job, the pace just didn’t allow the space for some things. Sometimes, I was just too busy to be kind. Too busy to be open. Too busy to learn why I should support one cause or another. Too busy to make myself "emotionally available". Too busy to look up from my computer at the person who was talking to me. Too busy to make new friends.

When asked at our final Peace Corps training what it is we have learned here that we want to bring back with us, this was mine: That when I am doing tasks or getting things done that I remember to stop and assess why I am doing things and who I am doing them for. To remember to ask myself: Do I need to be doing this right now? Am I choosing tasks over building relationships? Which is more valuable to me in this moment? 

So, when my Indonesian friends says to me, “Ms Erin, you’re so busy,” it’s my queue to examine what I’m doing – at the time and in the grand scheme. Because, not only does this mean, “You don’t have time for me,” in Indonesia, but isn’t this what 'busy' means pretty much everywhere?

Here are some of the great things that happen when I take time to not be busy on my porch: 

 

* Check out an article that inspired this post shared by fellow PCV Emily: The 'Busy' Trap

For sure, a bit pretentious, but favorite line: "if your job wasn’t performed by a cat or a boa constrictor in a Richard Scarry book I’m not sure I believe it’s necessary. I can’t help but wonder whether all this histrionic exhaustion isn’t a way of covering up the fact that most of what we do doesn’t matter." 

** NPH craftily escaped the child stardom curse by making some key career moves - accepting roles that poke fun at himself in cameos, coming out and hitting the musical scene, voice overs in cartoons, and landing a gig as a womanizer in a long-running sitcom. At times now, I do find myself asking, "What Would NPH Do?"

 

 

*** I, for one, have loaded this on my desktop for daily viewing:

The story of the band 2ge+her runs deeper than the lyrical mastery or flashy American flag jumpsuits. In addition to the Farley connection already mentioned in the post above, Michael Cuccione, who played the youngest member of the band, Jason "QT" McKnight, had Hodgkin's Disease in real life. He died shortly after the group filmed the second season of their MTV series, and David Hasselhoff performed a tribute song at his memorial.  

Had I not just been sitting and "being" in the teacher room, it never would have occurred to me to devote the time to conduct this research. Thank you, Indonesia.