Pages I have Read: To New Beginnings: My First Two Weeks in Indo

In the span of a lifetime, nine months seems like a blip: insignificant, unimportant, trivial. But right now, nine months in Indonesia seems like three lifetimes of its own. During my first week in Indonesia, time was my immortal enemy—always lurking in the corners, suffocating me at night, harassing my delicate emotions. Void of activities, work, and friends, I was left alone with my thoughts to process my new environment: the sounds of the neighborhood mosques azem and rooster crows at twilight, the musky smell of sate ayam at night, the vibrant greens, blues, and pinks of my house and school, and the excited chatter of new friends and neighbors (all in Bahasa Indonesia, of course).

This experience has taught me the simultaneous pain and power of change. Pain in the heartache of homesickness, tears of loneliness, fear of novelty. Power in adaptation, growth, and resiliency. In the past two weeks, I’ve experienced each of these emotions in incredible intensity. After arriving in Indonesia on August 23, I spent one week at my site—Bandar Lampung on Sumatra island—before coming to Bandung on Java island for a two-week orientation. My week at site was probably one of the longest, hardest weeks of my life. Not for lack of care or support, but for my own inability to cope with change. I skipped the whole “honeymoon” phase of culture shock and jumped straight to isolation and anger. I was frustrated by the rooster’s call in the morning. I was annoyed at the language barrier that restricted my interactions. I hated the neon green walls of my house: so different from my home in the States. Unlike previous experiences, I didn’t have a university community or job to fall back onto. I felt alone in a new city, new culture, new country. Culture shock is real. It sucks. And it’s amplified when you’re alone. But I keep reminding myself that it’s temporary, controllable, and expected.

But for every heartache of culture shock came new joy. My week at site was filled with smiles and selamats, giggles and selfies, hospitality and new friends. My neighbors have been extremely kind and welcoming to the new bule in their neighborhood: inviting me to dinner, showing me around town, and greeting me in the morning. At school, my students squealed when I walked by, feverishly crafting perfect English sentences before asking me questions like “Do you have a boyfriend?” “Who is your idol person?” and “How old are you?” The teachers at school offered me pisang or candy in the morning, complimented my new batik, and fussed over my blatant “new”-ness to Bandar Lampung. Every physical need of mine was met before I even thought of it. Every interaction so pure and well-intentioned.

Last Thursday, September 1, I left Bandar Lampung for Bandung, the “Paris of Java.” I will spend 18 days here learning about Fulbright, receiving teacher training, and studying Bahasa. There are 29 Fulbright English Teaching Assistants scattered across Indonesia, teaching at traditional public schools, vocational schools, military schools, and madresas. I’m blown away by the talent and intentionality of this group. We have shared stories of change, of sadness, of joy, and hope. Looking forward, I know we will be incredible resources to each other.

My final thoughts are on the importance of a service mindset. I’ve found it easy to make this year about me: my career, my goals, my comfort. But really, I should be thinking about my Indonesian community. Instead of “What can I do?” I’ve tried reframing my thoughts to “What can we do?” If I continue thinking of myself as a separate entity from my community, then I will always be one. But when I think of my time here as an opportunity to learn from and work with others, suddenly my petty complaints seem less important. My goals and ambitions seem less isolated. My purpose is better defined. I know this year will bring plenty of heartache. But I know it will also bring much joy. So, right now, I’m bracing myself for both.