Rubber Time (May 25, 2008)

Like posters in a college dorm room, homes are decorated with calendars backdating sometimes to 2004. Mainly political in nature. Not especially aesthetically pleasing. The other common fixture is a clock. But not a working clock. Stuck in time. Perhaps serving as a visual metaphor for Indonesia.

Sometimes it’s as if I’ve stepped into a dusty magazine. A collection of the best of the past 5 decades. Plastic furniture. Mustaches. Mismatched second hand clothes. Jumbo t-shirts. Cigarette advertisement prolific. Abundant smokers in buildings and public places. Wide flared jeans. No littering fines and is perfectly acceptable. Glass coca-cola bottles. Sweet tea. Children play with the neighbors, often pantless, unsupervised... What’s a stranger? Flowery painted dishes that evoke imagines of a Grandmother’s china cabinet. Wireless internet doesn’t exist. People use the telephone not email or their blackberry. Remember hand-written reports?

The Earth still travels around the sun as is evident by the bright days and star studded nights. Time hasn’t stopped. It is merely flexible. Appropriately it’s been nicknamed ‘rubber time’. I understand that punctuality is my western value not Indonesia’s. There isn’t much use trying to move mountains. I am merely trying to adapt. I’ve learned not to plan more than one activity a day. And to a lot the entire day… even if for merely a 10 minute meeting. Time is not important.

Sometimes I have to wait several hours for activities to start or for friends to arrive. Plans are not made for an exact hour, but for the morning, the afternoon, or the evening. With a deep breath… it’s ok. Nevertheless, when I have to make the extra effort to wake up before dawn expecting to be picked-up at 4 am and they are 4 hours late… that’s not ok.

Currently, my life is not my own. I am reliant upon others. For transportation. For communication. For discovering this new environment. I keep a toothbrush in my pencil case, always packed just in case. And just in case seems to happen several times a week. Plans change, meetings last long, or people just want to have a slumber party. All equally feasible. I’ve been gone all week, staying over in various villages. All unplanned. I like the change, nevertheless, I also like clean clothes and the comforts of my own space. I like being able to escape the dizziness of being engulfed by a new language.