July 8, 2008

Sarah and I got some words of wisdom from a former co-worker at EF Makassar. He sent a critique of this blog regarding entries from the past year or so. He took exception to some of them, claiming they were unfair. At first we bristled, of course. The words seemed harsh. But when we thought about his comments with a fresh state of mind, his words changed our outlook on the world forever.

He said Sarah and I were very judgmental people and our only friends were white people, and that we only hung out with rich people. He said we wasted our chance to see the world’s fourth largest country and experience it first-hand. We locked ourselves away in our apartment, hidden from true Indonesian culture. Sarah and I have talked about our co-worker’s direction over the past day or so. We have seen our faults and are asking forgiveness.

No. Not really.

This person, Dave, couldn’t keep my attention past the first few paragraphs of his six-page alcohol-fueled diatribe. Seriously. Maybe that’s why so many students dislike him. On top of incredible B.O. and calling students “idiots,” he’s a rambling bore. (You should’ve heard his painful play-by-play of each lesson in the teachers’ room. Every other word was “bloody” and then half the rest were only slurred, incomprehensible jibber-jabber.) It’s hard to think of him or Simon (our former “director”) as anything more than cartoon characters by this point.

Most of you know about Dave. Remember? The lovable old coot that orders whiskey by the case to support his almost bottle-a-day addiction. What Dave didn’t, and apparently still doesn’t, understand is that Sarah and I didn’t mind Indonesia for the most part – it was the white people that were so bad. (Don’t get me wrong. Makassar is a challenging place to live – there are even locals who wouldn’t disagree with this.) Seems Dave got confused again. He apparently thought this blog was a BBC report on the status of Indonesia and not just personal raw thoughts and frustrations for friends and family to read.

Anyway, enough of that. That’s not what I set out to write. (Once again Dave and Simon have derailed my concentration with their nonsense.) Here’s an entry we’ve been putting together for a while now. It’s about some of our favorite people and moments in Indonesia.


After Sarah was fired from EF Makassar, we went on a trip to Yogyakarta, Central Java. There we visited nearby Prambanan and Borobudur – two 9th century temples, the former Hindu and the latter Buddhist. At Prambanan, we were approached by a group of young English students who wanted to practice their conversation skills. Sarah and I obliged. They were such a delightful group we spent the whole day with them. They explained Hinduism (better than I’ve ever had it explained before, of course) and they drove us on their motorbikes to some out-of-the-way temples and graves. They expected nothing in return.

The crew at our favorite coffee shop, J.Co (an Indonesian chain that’s doing much better than Starbucks, it appears), was always a bright spot in our day… especially before having to go to EF. They were very hard working and always smiled and greeted us by name. They knew our orders and sometimes would bring our coffee out to us so we didn’t have to get out of our seats. This was one of the places Sarah and I, as well as our good friends Sandra and Ginger, kept each other sane and planned our lives beyond Makassar. J.Co made me a fresh press pot of Sumatra coffee everyday I showed up. It’s the best coffee I found on Sulawesi – with the exception of the coffee I had in Toraja.

Speaking of… Doud, our guide up in the remote area of Toraja, was one of our favorite people we met in Indonesia. Knowledgeable, humorous and humble, he filled our heads with so much new information we had to lie down after our daily tours. He helped us see rituals and death in a new way. He’s a truly remarkable man.

We had our favorite becak drivers along our walk to school too. (Becaks are those tricycle taxis.) They shook our hands and greeted us each day. “Hello, chickadee!” was their favorite salutation. They also taught us a bit of the local Makassar dialect and loved to hear us repeat it. They laughed and laughed. Sometimes we gave them J.Co doughnuts. They loved that too.

During a visit in Jakarta on our way to Poland, we had the pleasure of meeting John McGlynn who is one of the founders of Lontar Press. Lontar is a non-profit whose mission it is to translate Indonesian authors into English. Without Lontar I would not have been introduced to a genuine and complex perspective of Indonesia. We spent an afternoon with John and talked about various authors, translation, art and future plans. His home was decorated with beautiful art of mostly Javanese contemporary painters and sculptors. People like John make the world a better place. All he contributed to me – the day we spent together, his friend Karin he introduced us to in Makassar, our email exchanges, and his work – helped me begin to understand Indonesian culture.

There are many students we miss as well. One of them – who I never actually had as a student but was one of Sarah’s – is named Onsi. I met with Onsi a couple of times to help with an essay he wanted to enter into a contest. Here is a nice email he sent to us almost two months after we had left EF. We actually received it while in Poland.

“hallo Peter, do you still remember me? i am onsi, former of sarah's student at EF in Makassar. i just know that you and Sarah have got out from EF. i really dispointed because i think you are a good teacher. may i know what is problem ? do you have any plan to comeback to Indonesia. if you want to come here, don't forget to contact me, brother. you can send me information by email. thank you.”

And another we received while in Hong Kong…
“peter, thank you very much for your email. i really happy to received your information. ok, if you have any time, do not forget to travel to indonesia and tell me please. Give some greetings for sarah and there are some greetings from students of EF and also Mr, Rod. maybe one time i might go to usa. good luck for you.”

Mr. Rod. Although many of our colleagues were drunk and unprofessional, Rod was one of the good ones. He began his contract one month after we did and suffered from similar maltreatment by coworkers. We spent a memorable day in immigration hearing his stories of life in Africa. His positive perspective and boundless energy provided us with much needed support. After our fateful departure, Rod was the one who collected our left belongings and offered to provide reference information if needed. We feel fortunate to have met him while living in Makassar.

And, although this blog is already quite long, I can’t help but pause to mention the non-EF expats who were our lifelines -- Sandra and Ellen, Ginger and Ernest. These individuals helped us maintain some semblance of normalcy when everything else was crazy. We have wonderful memories of shared meals and stories.

Though we had our rough times adjusting to an infinitely different culture and had to deal with easily the lowest, most unethical employers and co-workers we’ve ever had, Sarah and I do not regret for one moment our time in Makassar. It was incredible. Sure, hindsight’s 20/20. There are things we’d do differently. There are some things I wished we had done, but did not. That’s always true. But for it being our first time living overseas, I think we did pretty well considering we had little direction and support from expats who had lived there longer. And no one can convince me that we did not experience Indonesia as much as we should have, or that we lived just like we did in America. That almost makes me laugh out loud it’s so ridiculous. We are different and better and stronger people for this past year.

Well, I must be off now. I think I’ll start on a new bottle of liquor, wake up addled and impaired, and then dole out condescending advice to people who shower more than I do and who I never took the time to get to know. Cheers!

See you all soon.

June 14, 2008

We have finally left Indonesia and are now in Poland. Wow -- what a difference!

Our photo collection at RothTravelPhotos.blogspot.com has been updated. (We finally found a good internet connection.) You can see our pictures of central Java, Kuala Lumpur and other random Sulawesi sites.

June 3, 2008

Well, we’re in our last week of living in Makassar. This chapter in our lives is coming to a close finally.

Hello. Peter here. It’s been a while. I realize I haven’t contributed to this blog for quite sometime now. But that’s only because, honestly, I’ve gotten really tired of analyzing how I feel in Indonesia.

My feelings are a mixed bag. A really mixed bag, which will take a long time to sort out. Yes, in many ways it’s been a rough year, and this country has left me beat up and bloody more than once. Because of this, I feel like I can hear some of you out there giving warning to another person interested in teaching English as a foreign language. “I don’t know,” I hear you say. “Jim and Lois Roth have a boy who did that, and he had nothing but trouble. It was a terrible experience.”

And though we’ve dealt with more than our share of shady characters and liars and impossible situations, it’s been one of the best educations I could get. But first, here’s my own word of warning: If you want to be an EFL teacher and want to find a place to work that will be like Starbucks or office work in the States, then don’t do it. A fair employer who treats you like he/she is afraid of a lawsuit doesn’t exist in this line of work. Sometimes it felt like every time I left our apartment I had to fight and fight for the simplest things. We had to buy our own colored pencils and scissors for class. And I never had a reliable CD player at school.

I came here to see how the majority of the world lives, and the truth is it’s much rougher than what most of us are used to in America. Sarah and I had to learn to be truly flexible. We had to learn to find shelter and safe places. These are not seen as rights in a 10-year-old democracy. As an American I was used to our system of rights and liberties. And I really do believe in human and civil rights – they’re for everyone. But the test in Indonesia was this: Do I still believe in them when they’re not granted to me?

Searching for the answer is far from simple. I mean, I know what the answer should be. Yes, of course I do. I can say yes, but what do I really do when it comes down to it? What would you do if you had no running water for two days? I’ll tell you honestly, I lost it. And there was no one within earshot who was to blame.

Indonesia, like everything, is extremely complex. And that’s what I’ve come away with during this time. I feel America’s greatest fault is that we simplify things way too much. Too many pat answers. Bush is either a demented war monger who dances at people’s suffering, or he is a man dressed in white weeping before God on a cross each morning to understand the way of salvation. Whatever is what I say to each of those statements.

The American definitions of “liberal” and “conservative” do not exist over here. They’re kind of jokes outside the U.S., in fact. People are judged only by their leadership. Over here, I realize Bush to me is just a guy who’s not very bright who made a series of pretty poor decisions – though not every single one was bad, I must admit. And I’ve realized some people are like that. They just can’t take hold in life. Granted, Bush’s decisions affect a lot more people and his lack of insight doesn’t justify what he’s done or hasn’t done.

We as Americans – as humans – need to learn to be more sensitive and understanding. We need to be more sensitive to those who believe different than we do. I just read an interview with Salman Rushdie, and he said that believing in freedom of expression is only real if you grant it to someone you don’t agree with. That’s a challenge. It means nothing if we don’t acknowledge that the world is so complex that someone might not believe the same way or even want the same things we do.

The great Kurt Vonnegut said it best in his introduction to Slapstick. He tells what we need is “a little less love and a little more common decency.”

True, there are those people who are just plain ass-clowns, who want to say or do things just to test their “rights” and push our buttons. And if there’s no substance or conviction to their beliefs, then they ought to be slapped. But we need to listen first.

I’m not saying this in a bleeding heart/America sucks sort of way. I’ve come to love something very much about the USA. But I feel like it’s real now and not what a political party or news commentator has told me to think. It’s far deeper than Fox News flag waving pseudo-patriotism, but it’s not left-wing Michael Moore manipulative cynicism either. I feel like I disagree with both the “Right” and the “Left.” America has done a lot for the world. We’re an example of democracy and the benefits of capitalism. It’s hard to argue that things aren’t kind of nice in America. But we are not a beacon of freedom and altruism either. America wants more than her share. There’s no doubt about that.

Living in a place that is not as safe as growing up in the Indiana suburbs has been one of the best decisions of my life. True learning is a difficult and dark process. It’s hard work and full of unknowns. For everything I come to understand, there’s something new I don’t have an answer for. But to me that makes life worth living.

We need to have more conversations and fewer mini-trials to prove who’s right and wrong all the time. Whatever the subject. If we’d withhold judgment, we could possibly resolve a lot more of our differences. Why are we so concerned with proving the truth? If it’s truth, I wonder if it’s a little bigger than reason. I wonder if it shouldn’t just make itself apparent? No one owns truth. It’s not ours to use.

Living as an expat, you have to find what you have in common with those you come in contact with. You cannot focus on your differences. If you do you become isolated. Then you’re in trouble. And Sarah and I have found we have much more in common than not with the vast majority of people. (Minus the self-destructing alcoholic honkies we worked with.) That knowledge is a great thing to have received while in Indonesia.

May 22, 2008

Shortly after our last blog entry, strange, fascinating and positive things began to happen within our Makassar experience. People came out of the woodwork to support and defend us. Friendly faces appeared all around – in coffee shops, grocery stores and our regular haunts. It is clear that removing ourselves from the negative expat culture we had been in for 9 months was one of the healthiest and most refreshing decisions we have made this year. (Yes, the decision was made for me, but Peter has no regrets that he walked out in protest. :) )

Late last week, I went to the gym for my daily workout. (I spend 5 mornings a week at a fitness center located in the basement of the only 5-star hotel in Makassar. It’s my sanity check.) Apparently they were in the process of auditioning for a new aerobics instructor. The hotel’s general manager, his wife, the fitness center manager and a couple of other regulars had appeared in the center and “aerobics-style” music had begun to play. I continued on the Stairmaster while watching what was sure to be an amusing class. One of the guys from the fitness center counter took his place at the front of the room and began to move – not really finding any beat to speak of but moving nonetheless. After 10 minutes, he looked around and stopped – he was stuck.

I jumped in… I just couldn’t help myself. After teaching the remainder of the class, I had acquired quite a crowd. The general manager and the fitness center manager were wondering why they hadn’t hired me earlier and other students were commenting on how much they enjoyed the class. These were some of the first positive comments I had heard in a while. As it is, I am now teaching aerobics classes 4 times a week while training a new instructor to take over in early June when I leave Makassar. (Due to visa constraints, I am being paid in food vouchers – the irony is terribly funny.)

Fitness is my first love – after teaching my first class, I came home happier than I had been in a long time. In the midst of such a strange place and in the middle of a stressful and difficult situation, the opportunity arose to do the thing I love most – teach others how to make healthy choices. It has been such fun. Each day, the fitness center guy teaches a little more and I teach a little less. It’s like a month-long fitness teaching bootcamp where your trainee doesn’t speak any English and hasn’t ever taken an aerobics class before much less has any idea of how to teach one.

Indeed, Makassar has been a weird place. Yet, when we leave in just a few short weeks, we will remember some very good times as well as the difficult and strange ones. There will always be the day I was threatened with deportation and invited to teach an Indonesian aerobics class -- May 8^th will be remembered as one of the strangest days of my life.

May 8, 2008

An adventure. This doesn’t even come close to describing our time in Makassar, Indonesia. There have been times when we’ve seen some beautiful beaches and sunsets and waterfalls. There have also been times when we’ve been exposed to the most astounding and unbelievable human interactions – both positive and negative. Our blogging intent has been to realistically portray our experience living in southeastern Indonesia. This week has been no exception.

This site has included stories of teacher walkouts and unreliable electricity. We’ve included stories of ceilings that have collapsed as well as inconsistent pay schedules. Our “colleagues” have been described and their characters painted in such a way as to give a glimpse of our daily work environment.

Over the last month, Peter and I have moved forward with plans to accept teaching positions in Poland and begin a masters of education program involving intensive weeks of study in Krakow.

These circumstances as well as the appalling teaching environment led us to decide to buyout of our contract at the end of May. The buyout was provided for within our contract. We gave our notice in late April and endured a week of the silent treatment.

Monday, I was fired. I was told I was the worst teacher that had ever taught at EF English First Makassar. Yes, apparently I was worse than the alcoholics and the teachers who arrived hungover or with alcohol on their breath. I was informed that by leaving and never coming back I was doing the school a favor. I left.

Peter ventured into the office of the Director of Studies, Simon Still, moments later and asked what had happened. He was told that the director didn’t like me and that I hadn’t said “hello” or “goodbye” to him during the course of the year. Apparently this is cause for dismissal. When Peter suggested the director take responsibility for the ongoing communication within the school as well as the daily work environment, Simon informed him that he did not want to take responsibility and wasn’t going to. When told he was the worst manager Peter had ever had, Simon replied, with a shrug, that’s fine with him… he was ok with that. Peter left.

Between the 2 of us, we carried a teaching load of 15 classes. The average teacher at the school had 5 classes. Yes, for being the worst teacher at the school, I was teaching twice as many classes as the head teacher – 8 to his 4. I performed evaluations and placement screenings and was considered the “young learners” expert. Not bad for being the worst teacher ever. Hmmm…

Now, as one can imagine, this is a bit of a strange and stunning experience. I am unsure if we are still in shock or if we just don’t care anymore. But we feel strangely at ease. As we wandered Makassar today walking from one favorite place to another we realized that it’s not Indonesia that has been difficult – it is EF English First Makassar.

Indonesia is full of strange and fascinating people with a complex and unique heritage. Their religious, geographic and political situations are unlike anything known in the west. These systems are difficult to comprehend. Yet, it was our western connections that made them unbearable. It was the people from the west who made our lives frustrating and difficult.

For the first time in over 8 months, I took a full breath and realized that it was not Indonesia that made me feel insecure and disrespected – it was EF English First Makassar and it’s Director of Studies, Simon J. Still, BA (as his business card desires you to note). Had he even a bit of respect for the teachers he hired, had he tried just a bit to facilitate the teacher transition into this environment, our experience would have been very different.

And so, we are looking forward to our remaining month in Indonesia with the expectation that we will come away from the experience with much more positive energy now that we have severed our ties with the western institution housing the distracting and negative individuals who have tried to color our experience with their insecurities and disillusionments. We can begin to appreciate the true nature of the culture… We’ll let you know how it goes. ☺

April 23, 2008

Sometimes the way real life comes together is much more phenomenal and inspiring than anything that could be made up in a book or movie. And strangely enough, sometimes less believable.

A few years ago I read an article in The Atlantic Monthly about Winton Marsalis. It said in a time when jazz was about to roll over and die (the early ‘80s), up rose this young talent who revived and resuscitated the music. The son of a New Orleans jazz pianist, Marsalis played trumpet with Art Blakey – one of last of the old guard of musicians from the ‘50s and ‘60s heyday. And then young Marsalis just took off from there. It’s amazing to think about: a brilliant young African American born to a family of musicians, raised in the birthplace of jazz, played the signature instrument of the music’s formative years, and was taught by one of the most respected teachers of his day. The article’s author said that if this were a movie script, the producers would’ve handed it back to the writers. Try again. A little too perfect.

But, of course, it’s a true story.

Most all of you know I grew up in Indiana. And when I was 27 I moved to Portland, Oregon, after spending a rough year and half riding a steep learning curve at a newspaper. In Portland I learned a new trade and much more about life in general. Blah, blah, blah.

Ten years later… I ended up moving to Indonesia to start a new career in teaching. Those of you keeping up know it has been pretty crazy year of trying to figure out which side is up for us. Just when we were getting a feel for Indonesia (kind of), Sarah and I have already done the job search for next year. And Radom, Poland will be the next home for this couple beginning in September. We will be teaching English there and pursuing a masters in education through a commuter program. The prospect of Europe is more exciting than we can put in a blog entry.

So. I’ve thought about this.

Starting points for me: Indiana and Indonesia. Next stops: Portland and Poland. Hm. It’s also interesting to note the countries’ flags. Both are half red and half white. Indonesia has the red stripe on top, Poland has white on top. (On a strange almost unrelated note, I’ve been listening to a lot of The White Stripes lately, a duo whose gimmick is to dress in red and white.) This all is cheesy in the Shakespearian or Greek theatrical coincidences. If this were a story, I’d never write anything so transparently “poetic.”

Now please don’t think I’m making a comparison between Mr. Marsalis and me. That’s not my intention at all. I’m saying it’s just funny how life can sometimes come together so neatly.

The characters I work with here in Makassar could not be found in any (good) book or movie either. Their racism, chauvinism, alcoholism, and psychological projections are just too obvious – too straight out of Psych 101 textbooks and AA literature. But as I know all too well, they’re waiting for me at work today. They’re real. And I’ll have to listen to them order Ballentine’s whiskey by the case (sometimes two at a time), listen to why things were better for Africa in the old colonial days, listen to patriotic recollections of the Faukland Islands conflict, and joke about how their Indonesian girlfriends will have to be quarantined with their pet Dalmation upon returning to Europe.

Yeah. It’s been a rough ride. But I can’t wait to find out what’s next.

April 13, 2008

After working in the coffee business for 11 years, I now have the unique and somewhat surreal opportunity to teach a unit whose theme is coffee to a class of advanced students on the island of Sulawesi. It’s pretty weird.

In case you don’t drink coffee, Indonesia and Sulawesi in particular produce some of the best coffee in the world. Years ago, I discovered that Sulawesi and Sumatra were my favorite coffee origins. And there’s really not much that can beat Arabian Mocha Java (the world’s first coffee blend) brewed as a shot of espresso. Now, these things aren’t why we chose to work in Makassar, Sulawesi. It was just coincidence that the teaching positions presented themselves to a guy who used to sell coffee from here and his wife.

Anyway, the curriculum of this English unit revolves around using contrasting and comparing terms, discussing supply and demand, and charts and graphs vocabulary for analyzing trends.

I asked my class of seven students who had been up north where most coffee is grown on Sulawesi. Two had. I asked who had seen a coffee tree and unpicked coffee berries. “Tree?” they asked. “Yeah,” I said. “Coffee grows on little trees. The beans start as little red berries.” I thought about one of these trees in a café I had worked in – right next to the merchandise. Then I described how coffee was picked, processed and roasted. They had no idea. It was new to them. Five of the seven drank coffee (the other two preferred tea), and of those who drank it, drank instant coffee. Instant coffee: I usually refer to this as an abomination in the eyes of God. Unbelievable. It’s the Mountain Dew of the coffee world. Only one had ever been to a Starbucks. (This fact seemed so quaint to someone from the Pacific Northwest.)

I shouldn’t have been so surprised. Since coming here I‘ve learned that all the superior coffee is exported. All of Sulawesi’s best resources are shipped away. Not long ago, I got a pound of Sulawesi beans from my nephew who works for Starbucks in the mail. This irony was even more profound when I tasted it, and it was better than the beans I actually bought up north in Toraja – coffee growing country. This would be like getting better corn on the cob from Germany instead of Indiana or better apples from China instead of the State of Washington. It’s difficult for an American to grasp.

I did a little research for the class. I not only wanted to give them an English lesson, I wanted to present them with information about an industry so important to their country. As many of you know, the coffee industry is a nasty, nasty business. While over the past few years coffee production has increased 1-1½%, the demand has increased by 2%. And as farmers try to meet the demand, they’re producing inferior quality, and about 8% of all beans go unused. Producing countries exporting profits have dropped by billions of dollars in just a few years as well while their buyers try to increase company profits. (Admittedly, I got some of this from the Internet, so give me some slack on these figures.) I introduced the idea of the Fair Trade consortium and of those smaller roasters (as opposed to the gargantuan buyers: Nestle, Sara Lee, Proctor & Gamble, and Kraft) who pay enough for farmers to live. Some had at least heard of Fair Trade, but they didn’t really understand it.

This was a moment I could certainly tell that I was working within a young democracy. This information had never really been presented to these students before. It makes me appreciate my rights of freedom of press and speech all the more. Indonesia observes these rights now but only since 1997, and this concept takes a while to reach an archipelago that’s also the fourth most populous nation in the world. Information is so important to the prosperity of a country. This seems so obvious, but now I have seen why first-hand.

Such a strange full-circle of events.