Shit the Help Says

I’m gonna start a new section call “Shit The Help Says.”  It is not meant to offend in any way.  I’m sure they could write a blog about my Indonesian. It’s just funny how the communication goes at the boundary between your native and non-native tongue.

I was in the car with the driver and we passed Monas.  The large park in the center of town with the very tall pinnacle commemorating Indonesian Independence.  There were scores of workers crawling over what looked to be a large, temporary sound stage.  

My driver says, “Oh!, They’re getting ready for the New Year’s party!”  

“What do you do on New Years, Pak?”, I asked.

“Oh, I’m too old.  I just send my kids now.  I used to go.  We’d listen to music, watch fireworks”  He formed his hand into a round shape and motioned it toward his mouth. “We make noise with the hore…”  

“I’m sorry?!” I said. Probably a little too loudly and too quickly..

“You know, a hore” And he made that shape and that motion again. “Toot, toot!”

“Oh, horN.”

“Yes, horn.  We make much noise”

I understood perfectly.

Levelling Up!!

To recap from our last episode, we sent our daughter off to her first Bacchanalia.  A post semester high school party scheduled to start at 11 pm.  Yes, 11 pm.  Far too late for any working parent to go spy or chaperone.

So, we sent her and a friend with our driver and a litany of warnings and do’s and don’ts and faith that she had enough common sense to come home safely.

And, she did!  

She came home safely within curfew.  Remember, this is a liberal drinking age country and she confirmed that alcohol was flowing freely.  We’ve never really hidden alcohol from our kids.  They’ve been offered tastes from a very young age and none of them have liked the taste.  Whatever taste we’ve provided has often been spit back out.

So, we counseled for years about the alcohol hiding in all those fru-fru drinks and how this is often a young person’s downfall.  “This tastes just like Kool-Aid!”

This advice, though, offered no preparation for the Indonesian way of nightlife.  The drink of choice for your typical teen here?  Vodka… shots.

And this, in a single moment, demonstrates the power of peer pressure.  

All the years when she’s been offered sips of beer or wine by her parents have been met with a screwed up face and gagging and sometimes spraying the offending agent back at us.  But, when a classmate offers her a shot of vodka?  Sure, why not?  Everyone else is doing it.

She said it tasted awful, and this is when, maybe, common sense kicked back in and she didn’t drink anymore.  She did get some interesting insights into how alcohol works in some of her friends.  She said this party was a lot like her catholic middle school dances, when everyone was sort of goofy and disinhibited because they didn’t know better.  Dancing and talking in clots and acting silly.  

3 or 4 years on, it is still the same; disinhibited but for different reasons.  Best of all, though, she had fun and would go again. And we will feel a little more comfortable with the idea.

On the other side of the family tree, our son passed his first semester at university and successfully navigated his way solo around the world through missed flights and lost luggage and nearly 24 hours sitting in a metal tube.  It is wonderful to have him back in our lives for a few weeks.

This week it feels good to be a parent. I swear last night I heard a deep, warm, computer-generated gong-tone and a deep voice that said,..

“Level Up! Congratulations! Adolescent knowledge attained.  You gained 50 experience points, 10 wisdom credits and 1000 grey hairs!”

Watershed Parenting Moment

This is a watershed parenting moment.

When we first found out we were coming to Jakarta we were told so many good things.  We were told we would love the place and thus far, we’re pretty happy with where we ended up.

But, we were cautioned about a few things.  The traffic and pollution you've heard about.  The other thing was the school.  The school Z attends is an amazing facility and we've been happy for the most part with her teachers.  We think Z has been pretty happy as well. But we were warned a number of times about things that happen after school.  Namely, the parties.  

It seems that there is a pretty liberal interpretation of a drinking age here in Indonesia.  On the books, the drinking age is 21, but no one knows this.  In particular, the people who sell alcohol.  Apparently, if you look like you've entered puberty you can get alcohol.  Like so many of the rules, they’re overlooked until needed.

There is also a contingent of kids at school who come from significant means. Children of local magnates and executives.

What do well-off people like to do? Entertain. Which leads us to the parties.  Several times a year usually at term breaks, a group of kids rent out a local night club and invites most if not all of the high school.  These are not school sanctioned events The parties start at 11 pm.  They charge admission and I’m told they only allow kids from the school in. They all dress up and talk and dance to loud music,... oh, yeah, and they drink.  Reportedly, a lot.  Or some do anyway. There are reports of kids getting out of hand with their drinking.

The three of us have all been talking about this issue for months.  How to be responsible How to limit oneself. How to be safe. How resist peer pressure.  Maybe we just go out and buy her some drinks? No, thanks, Dad, that would be awkward. We wrestled with whether or not to allow this at all.

There was a party earlier in the year.  Z opted not to go and quietly Mrs. S.A.M and I were pleased, or at least relieved.

Which brings us to the watershed moment.

It’s the end of the school term this week, and tonight there is another party. This time our wee daughter has asked to go with a friend from school. And, so we reviewed all the things we talked about.  We tighten our sphincters and place our faith in our ability as parents, over the years, to instill some common sense and good decision making in her.  

We hope she comes back safely and pray that we haven’t sent her down a path of long term addiction and misery.  It’s going to be a long night.

The Stuff

We received the shipment of the vast majority of our household effects (HHE) this week.  For the uninitiated, when you move overseas you get to take 2 suitcases and a carryon with you.  You get several hundred pounds of stuff that you can ship by air and all the rest comes by boat.  This last part is your HHE.

If you heard faint gleeful exclamations in the night, that was probably Mrs. S.A.M receiving our boxes. Clothes, extra pots, the mixer, bulk quinoa, artwork.  You can probably read more about her pleasure here at AdventuresInWonderland4.Blogspot.com.  

I, on the other hand, am rather ambivalent.

Having started this big adventure 9 months ago, I’ve been living with a small amount of my own stuff for a while, and I gotta say it’s been pretty liberating.

Of course, there are things that I’m glad to have.  I’m really glad to have my camera.  I thought I could suffice with a cell phone, but there are a number of times I wish I could have had more.  I’ll never travel without one again.  

It was a great relief to get our Tempur-pedic mattress.  I hate to sound like a commercial or a grumpy old man,  but I have not had as good a nights sleep as I have the last few nights in months.  

I’ve been dreaming of having my Vitamix.  With so much tropical fruit around and a spouse who makes yogurt, it is the perfect place for a smoothie fan.

I’m  happy to see photos, too.  They’ll make the place feel more like home. Those and a couple other things, golf clubs, tools, a warm coat just in case, that is about all I’m glad to see.  

The other stuff, I wonder about.  There were two large crates towering in two smallish utilty trucks that rolled up and I wondered what was in there that I could possibly need.  

After months of living on minimal stuff and free of knick knacks and all the little bits that one collects and can’t get rid of, it was all back and this week I’ve suddenly felt heavy and weighed down.

Maybe it’s the fact that so many here lack and up rolls two trucks with more clothes and magazines and electronics and bedding and dishes.  Our pembantu, though was almost as excited as my wife.  Especially about the kitchen goods.  “What’s this? What’s it for?”

One of the boxes we received was labelled in large letters. “PARTS BOX”  This is the box that is supposed to have all the nuts and bolts that comes off of everything that you ship.  The bed parts, the dresser hardware, etc.  Our parts box had half the bolts to the bed.  The other were wrapped with the bed itself.  The remainder of the “Parts box” was filled with dog food, peanut butter, and... cranberry sauce.  6 cans of it.  Enough for three years of holidays.  

I had to ask Mrs. SAM if the men who packed our house were native English speakers.  She said they were and asked why?  I pointed to the two small heavy boxes labelled “Boozes”  filled with wine and liquor. I think boozes may be my new favourite non-word.  I’d encourage its use in your everyday lives.

I’m hoping all this feeling of heaviness dissipates when we get to our permanent house and everything gets organized and stowed.  When that happens we’ll have to have a party.  We've certainly got plenty of boozes.