From Ubud, Bali to Kupang, West Timor to Koh Lanta, Thailand.

Hello from Asia! Since I left the Gili Islands of Lombok, I hung out with forest monkeys in Ubud, volunteered at an orphanage in West Timor, ran alongside Kupang’s Hash House Harriers, and survived dengue fever. That’s right. I survived dengue fever.

Dengue fever was an awful experience, one of the worst in my life. It’s hard to imagine just last week I was covered in chills and sweat, not much of an appetite yet thirsty all the time, a full on itchy rash on my skin, swollen limbs, and stiff joints and muscles. My feet were so stiff I had trouble walking down the stairs. At one point, I thought death would be better than this. I spent my days sleeping. But fortunately, my blood pressure remained stable and there was no need for me to go to the hospital. The local doctor gave me a blood test and electrolytes and advised me to rest. Now I’m feeling much better and can hardly believe the worst is over. I never want to wish this virus on anyone, but I’m also grateful knowing that it could have been much worse.

To back track a bit, I got the virus while I was in Kupang, West Timor, volunteering in Roslin Orphanage. I was there for two eye-opening weeks. The orphanage has over 120 children from ages 25 years old to months old babies. I mostly taught English classes, sang songs, played games, helped with homework, and held babies. I fell in love with a scrawny two year old boy name Michen, who was found with puss covering his skin and a spine problem. Doctors thought he would never be able to walk, but when I met him he was running around and laughing. I witnessed the suffering of a mother about to leave her infant child at the orphanage for indefinite time. She would not stop holding him until the helpers at the orphanage told her she had to leave because they had to prepare for dinner. I saw a teenage boy receive correctional eyewear. For the first time in years, the world became clear to him. Sometimes sadness would overwhelm me, but mostly I was pretty elated to be with the kids. I’ve never met a group of kids so eager to learn and please. They easily laughed and smiled. I reflected a lot on my upbringing and family during this period, and thanked God that I was born into a family that loves me and could see me grow up.

Before Kupang, I was in Ubud for one week. I met two other travelers, one from Finland and another from Australia, and we ended up sharing a room together to save costs. They were good company and had similar interests. We dined together in small warungs, snacked on fruit juices, and explored rice paddies and cultural events together. We went to see a traditional Balinese dance in the center of town. That was by far the highlight of my stay in Ubud. The bright colors of the costumes paired with shimmery gold trimmings and delicate batik were pleasing to my eyes. Then, the melodic musical notes produced by rows of gamelons players topped it off. The dancers had me clutching to the edge of my seat. They are talented beyond words. The Aussie, a law student from Perth named Terry, flew to Jakarta and the Finnish girl, a film director who lives in Helsinki (the capital of Finland) named Pilvi, continued her travels to Nusa Lembongan.

Well, now I am in Koh Lanta, southern Thailand. My initial plan was to be in Thailand for two weeks for scuba diving, but I spent over a week of it recuperating from dengue fever. Now that I’m finally feeling better, I signed up for a dive tomorrow in Koh Haa. I fly back to Indonesia on Monday. I still need to upload a lot of my photos from my camera to iPad, so I will post up photos of Ubud and Kupang in my next post!

Photos of underwater life by the Gili Islands.

I’m in an internet cafe in Ubud, Bali so I can share photos of underwater life off the coast of Gili Trawangan and Gili Meno. I didn’t bring my log book with me so I can’t remember the names of the sites. Water visibility wasn’t the greatest this time of year, about 8 meters, and it was difficult to get a steady shot of fish since they move around, but we got some really neat photos nonetheless. The photos of me were taken by Anna, my instructor.

Hello from 60 feet below sea level!

A sea urchin hanging out in his favorite spot.

Corals!

Cute little guy.

View of corals from above.

Moray eel.

Blue starfish.

Ocean floor shrimp coming out to greet us.

Colorful fish!

This is where nemo lives.

Can you spot him? He’s a fish that mimics the bottom of the sea.

Coral that looks like brains.

Puffer fish.

Beautiful zebra fish.

Incredible creature. One of the highlights of my dives was being close to this turtle.

We are quickly becoming friends!

Schools of small fish hanging out by the corals.

The sideview of corals.

Anna swimming.

And we’re done! Back on the boat. Me and Yahdey, another scuba instructor.

Last week in Gili Trawangan and Gili Meno.

So, I have lots of photos to share! I am in Ubud, Bali right now and have been here since this weekend. Ubud is known as the cultural hub of Bali and is situated in the center of the island. Art galleries, boutique shops, and health cafés line the streets of central Ubud. About one and a half kilometers away lie beautiful rice fields and coconut groves that never seem to end. But before I arrived to the rice paddies of Ubud, I soaked up beach life with turtles in Lombok.

I was in the Gili Islands when I wrote my last post so I will write a little on my last days in the Gilis and diving. I now have 11 logged underwater dives, half of which are deep dives (over 18 meters deep). I’m certified to dive up to 40 meters, about 130 feet, anywhere in the world, and I look forward to taking this new hobby in other countries and bodies of water during the rest of my trip.

Being in the ocean day after day has significantly changed my perspective in life. Diving is an extreme sport (scuba diving and sky diving are the only two sports you need to be certified to do!) and I learned quickly there are absolutely no guarantees that a diver will make it out from the ocean alive. But, the ocean is a magical place–its own world, really. If one doesn’t explore such depths, then one does not get to see its treasures.

For me, the ocean quickly became a metaphor for life and I kept returning to it soaking up lessons. I take heed to the ocean’s unpredictable nature, its fickleness and dangers. Life is also unpredictable and doesn’t spare a single soul from its horrors. Yet, to be alive is simply an opportunity to experience grace. Whether it’s the grace of God or whatever one would like to call it, beauty feeds our soul. To feel and feed this beauty is what it means to be human on this planet. We must not be scared, but rather find the courage in our hearts to dive deeper and issue forth into the unknown sea. We must take risks and explore to find large rewards. This is what I learned from the ocean.

In my first deep dive, I saw a white tip shark on the ocean floor. His beady eyes looked at us, then he scampered away swimming deep into the sea. During my last deep dive in Gili Trawangan, I witnessed a big turtle slowly swimming up to the shimmery surface. He poked his head out of the water to get air, then he swam back down. I took some underwater photos, but they’re in a memory stick and I have difficulty getting them on my iPad so they’ll have to wait. But here are some photos taken above water of my last week in Gili Trawangan (and also Gili Meno, I spent a night at a friend’s bungalow and checked out the bird sanctuary!):

The sunset off the southwestern part of Gili Trawangan.

Beautiful corals by the shore, and my toes.

Up-close shot of red coral.

Up-close shot of a hermit crab.

The entrance of the bird park in Gili Meno.

A beautiful cocktail bird.

A palm cocktail getting friendly with me.

And he gives me a kiss!

There were also big lizards in the park. He, on the other hand, did not give me kisses!

Also, baby reindeers! Wait, in Indonesia?? In a bird park?

Coconut trees in Gili Meno, on the property where I stayed.

Cow on Gili Meno.

And we are back on Gili Trawangan, only a 20 minute boat ride from Gili Meno.

My last sunset on Gili Trawangan.

Me and very happy to be alive.

Diving by the Indian Ocean.

As of today, I am internationally licensed to dive underwater maximum of 18 meters, about 60 feet. I took a 3-day intensive that includes a written exam on diving theory, time in the pool getting used to equipment and buoyancy, and a practical exam of multiple dives. The center I’m taking my training with is Gili Scuba, the only center on this island owned by locals. Their instructors are PADI certified (Professional Association of Diving Instructors), and I feel safe and comfortable with them. My instructor, Anna, a lovely woman from Toronto, and I competed a total of four dives together. The practical exam in the ocean includes navigating with a compass, clearing water out of my mask 18meters deep, disassembling and assembling my equipment on the surface, and what I need to do in case I run out of air and need to use my partner’s air.

Getting certified for open water diving was quite an experience and a bit more challenging than I thought. I thought I would just get the opportunity to see colorful fish. And yes, there’s incredible wildlife in the ocean and ultimately being close to them is what drives me to go diving, but there’s a whole another thing to consider: Humans are not designed to be in the ocean, too much water and we drown and die. So, scuba was invented. The equipment is high tech, bulky, awkward to use at first, and funny looking, but it lets us stay underwater for a considerably long period of time. For each dive, you’re essentially carrying compressed air in a metal tank to use throughout the entire dive, which is approximately 45 minutes long (the deeper you go, the shorter bottom time you get). The tank supplies the air you use to breath and to achieve ideal buoyancy for being underwater. Cables are attached to the tank and you keep a regulator in your mouth at all times for a steady supply of air. The diver also has to deal with negative elevation and equalizing their ears properly as they swim deeper, or else serious injuries can happen. As you can see, it gets technical very fast with a lot of risks. I had to seriously weigh these risks on my third dive.

Twelve thirty in the afternoon, Anna and I took a boat ride with the crew to a spot called Bounty Wreck, close to Gili Meno, a near by island to Gili Trawangan. Bounty Wreck has a sunken pontoon that slopes downward and is overgrown with corals. We descended and found the currents to be very strong and visibility poor. We saw the pontoon and the current pushed us towards it. My legs started to get sucked into the slope by the current, which would have left me in a dead end and probably injured and out of control. I thought I was going to die and started to panic. Before my entire body got sucked in, I felt Anna’s hand on my scuba vest lifting me out. We then drifted with the current because it was too strong to swim against it, but I stayed close to her the entire time. I was frightened, but tried to remain calm. During a moment of respite from the strong current while holding on to dead coral on the sea floor, I looked up and saw a huge turtle inches away from my face. The creature must have been two feet long and so still and graceful. He was tranquil amidst the chaos, and I instantly felt better.

In the end, we made it out alive and I was relieved to hit the surface. We were only underwater for 38 minutes but it felt like forever. I am told this was a good experience for me. That same day, eight divers on this island got swept to sea while waiting on the surface for their boat after their dive. They were found three hours later, alive but scared. I take diving more seriously after that day, especially safety procedures (safety rule #1: you always dive with a buddy!).

I know this sounds crazy after what happened on my third dive, but I signed up for Advance Open Water training this week too. The ocean is calmer now and I want to see what the ocean is like further down. The maximum depth we’ll go is 40 meters, about 130 feet. But even in 18 meters, I see rabbit fish, anemone, parrot fish, sweet lips fish, octopus, eels, turtles, and plenty of bright coral. I’ve never seen anything more captivating and mesmerizing in my life. When the water conditions are just right, I can spend hours looking at ocean wildlife if my air tank allowed it. Earth is truly a special place and the risks are worth seeing how incredibly beautiful wildlife is in the ocean…not just in a National Geographic photo or a Discovery Channel documentary, but through my own eyes and skin.

Here are some photos! I’m taking a course on underwater photography so I hope to have photos of the animals I see up here soon.

The harbor on Bangsal, Lombok while I waited for a boat to take me to Gili Trawangan. The sun was about to set.

A private spot on Gili Trawangan I like to go to write and think.

The view of the ocean from Gili Scuba while I prepped for a dive.

Me and Anna by the harbor about to hop on the boat to our dive site.

All geared up and very excited! But first, we do a check stop to make sure everything is fastened and secured.

And in we go!

After diving, I sometimes have lunch at this local warung on the north side of the island. Pak Lit, the owner sitting on the bench, usually accompanies me and we chat. He was born in Lombok, but his four grown children were born on Gili. His youngest child is in high school.

Soto ayam, aka Indonesian chicken soup. Yum!

A panoramic view of the ocean from Pak Lit’s warung.

Close ups of the seashore.

A local surfer enjoying the waves.

Greetings from Gili Trawangan.

I’m on a very small island called Gili Trawangan off the coast of Lombok, an island east of Bali. It takes about an hour to tour the perimeter by bicycle, in which half the ride I had to dismount because the unpaved road is made of beige sand. There are no cars or motorbikes here, just horse drawn carriages the locals use for transportation. Wild goats roam the western side of the island. Fresh water on tap is scarce. Instead, filtered salt water is used to shower. The eastern side of the island is filled with tourists and surfers interested in the island’s pristine pale blue waters and laid back lifestyle. The harbor for ferries that transport people and goods to and from mainland is also on the eastern side. Bungalows and restaurants line the eastern side. I’m staying in a cozy bungalow towards the northern side of the island, in front of the island’s turtle conservation center and about a two minute walk from my scuba diving school.

I specially came to such a remote and tiny place to learn how to scuba dive. Scuba diving has been a dream of mine since I first discovered I can clearly see underwater with goggles during swimming lessons at the local YMCA in grade school. Paired with one too many Discovery Channel shows of underwater explorations and National Geographic centerfolds of bright coral and tropical fish, I opted to get my international PADI Open Water certification here. It’s just a fancy title that basically means I’m a recreational diver for open water depths maximum of 18 meters (about 60 feet). I thought this would be an excellent opportunity to experience a unique side of Indonesia.

Unfortunately, dives have been cancelled the last two days because of strong wind currents, which are great for surfers but not for divers. Divers are hoping the currents will subside tomorrow so that underwater visibility will be better. Tonight is my second night on Gili so I’ve had a good amount of time to explore the island, chatting with locals, and simply just getting used to island life. Locals speak a dialect I’m not familiar with. I can pick up certain words, but the local language, Sasak, differs greatly from the Javanese dialect of my family and the national language of bahasa Indonesia. I can still joke around and talk to the locals in bahasa Indo. Inside the perimeters of the island, a small village exists with a daily market for vegetables and goods. A large masjid is being built and I can hear its prayers five times a day from my bungalow.

The locals enquire about life in America and I enquire about life in Indonesia. They tell me that minimum salary set by the Indonesian government is $110 US a month. Many young men I speak to live in Lombok and commute to Gili every month to work in these bungalows and restaurants. Many give their parents more than half their income and pay for the education of their younger siblings. Sometimes we’ll eat together at the local eating place that takes place in a run down shack in the center of the island. Their stories make me feel very small. My problems are nothing compared to theirs.

I feel far away from home. Except for the locals I’ve met, I do not know anyone on this remote island and at times it’s strange to be so far away from civilization. Yet, the beauty of this place is enchanting. One can witness the power of nature here. The sounds of the ocean is soothing, but it can also be angry at times, ripping through the air like a lion’s roar. Hermit crabs play and fight with each other near the shoreline, where the tides continually bring dead coral the color of faded blue and ceramic white. There’s an orange stray cat that follows me during my morning walks and she lets me pet her. (The cats on this islands all have short tails, a genetic trait.) A gecko lives in my bungalow, diligently catching mosquitoes and flies. Nature never questions itself, and never apologizes, it just does what it pleases and we as humans have no other choice but to abide by its rules.

My writing nook by the beach.

Family ties that bind.

I’m alive!! Happy New Year!! The swirling vortex of family sucked me in without warning and spat me out gasping for air from its protective, yet good intentioned arms–in the most wonderful way. I’m completely overwhelmed by the amount of care, love, and attention I’ve received in Indonesia. It makes me want to laugh with joy and crawl into a hole seeking solitude all at the same time. From the moment I stepped off the plane to now, being alone was simply not an option. (A 26 year old, single woman traveling in a foreign country– gasp!) Now I’m in Soekarno-Hatta Airport in Jakarta, making my way to Bali, and reflecting on the last 24 days spent traveling with family, getting to know them, catching up on years that’ve passed, hearing their stories, and meeting many new faces. I’m trying to absorb everything. I can’t even begin to express the last 24 days.

Relatives, some I’ve never even meet before, extend their hands and resources to making my stay here as comfortable as possible. They open up their homes (and pantries) to my tired soul and empty tummy. Sometimes they travel from afar to meet me, bringing photo albums of pictures they’ve collected from my paternal grandfather, who diligently wrote lengthy letters and scribbled notes on the back of every photo he mailed to Indonesia. My grandfather’s name was Tan Tjee Lie. He died in 2006.

“After Tan Tjee Lie passed away, we stopped receiving news from America,” my grandfather’s nephew said as him and his wife showed me photos of a previous family vacation, probably circa 1994. My mismatched clothes and short haircut made me look a boy. I laughed at my awkwardness. Behind the photo, my grandfather wrote in Indonesian “We are about 200 km from New York.” We were in the Poconos.

My grandfather encouraged family members in Indonesia to emigrate to the US, but they didn’t want to let go of the assets they’ve already built to start anew in a foreign country with foreign people and a foreign language. In the end, my grandfather, his wife (my grandma), and his children (my dad and his siblings) were the only ones who emigrated. Yet, my grandfather kept up with correspondence, compulsively sending pages of letters and gifts from the US every month. Even now as an adult, my second cousin once removed still keeps the US stamp collection he started for her when she was a child.

The biggest surprise on my trip thus far is realizing how many family members I still have in Indonesia. Throughout my trip, I kept thinking how I would like for my own future children to meet them and see the place where their mother came from. This morning, my dad’s cousin and his wife sent me off with four different types of medicine for four different types of illnesses (for feeling under the weather), an umbrella and plastic bag (just in case it rains and a bag to put the wet umbrella in), and a whole lot of loving for the next couple of months in Indonesia. I feel loved, accepted, and secure.

First week in Indonesia.

I come from a very poor, chaotic country. City and rural Indonesians alike have weathered down, tired faces beaten from the sun. Sometimes their eyes are bloodshot and yellow. As much as I try to shake off my American accent, it comes through the second I open my mouth to speak. They ask me where I’m from and give me a thumbs up when I say the US. Americans are well liked in Indonesia, and in Indonesia I’m instantly classified as an American. I speak differently, wear different clothes and traveling through with US dollars. With US dollars, everything here is cheap and plentiful. You can buy a meal for a full grown adult with a dollar. In the US, a dollar will get you half a liter of drinking water.

Traffic laws seem to be laxly enforced in cities and mopeds rule the streets. Since arriving to Indonesia, my stay has been in Semarang, the city of my birth, but I’ve made day trips to Solo, Salatiga, and Mount Merapi, an active volcano that I camped at and climbed this past weekend. Solo is popular for batik and Salatiga is known for being the cleanest city in Central Java. These places are all in Central Java.

My first week was definitely an adjustment period and I underestimated how much social and cultural learning I need to do. I quickly realized my family is upper class and it has taken me time to get used to living with maids and drivers. My family is taking really good care of me and I find myself close to my extended family in Indo. Every hour is filled with “Are you hungry?” and “What do you want to do? Where you want to go?” They find it hard to believe that all I want to do is spend time with them and see family instead of going to Borobudor, an ancient Hindu temple popular with tourists.

Yesterday, my Uncle Didie and grandmother, my mom’s brother and mother, took me around Semarang to visit my grandparent’s siblings. They last saw me when I was three years old and all said I look just like my mother when she was a young woman. Most were financially well, owning garment factories, warehouses, and supermarkets. One owned a convenience store. The most common question I get asked is, “Sudah nicka?,” which means “Married yet?” A 26 year old single woman is rare in Indonesia and it’s more culturally appropriate to say “Not yet” instead of a flat out “No.”

I thought about my mother and uncle Didie a lot yesterday while visiting relatives. If my mother had stayed in Indo instead of emigrating to the US, the relatives I visited yesterday would be the family she would depend on. They are sweet, good natured people. My uncle also drove down Jalan Layur, the street where my mother and father met and their courtship began. My father was raised by his grandparents, my great grandparents. My grandparents’ house caught on fire when my dad was little and my grandmother had to leave two out of her six children with her parents. My dad was one of them and the other child was my Aunt Angely, who lives in Semarang and I stayed with for a few nights. As a result of growing up with his sister, my dad is very close to her. His old home in Jalan Layur is actually his grandfather’s old home. Nowadays, Jalan Layur is a dusty, littered, hectic road filled with small convenience stores and run down houses.

Yesterday was truly a special day for me and I’m grateful for the opportunity. I still need some time to process and feel like everything is happening quickly. I’m on the train to Pemalang right now, a small city about two hours west of Semarang. This time, I will meet extended family on my father’s side. I’m only in Pemalang for two nights and then return back to Semarang to spend time with my Aunt Angely before I depart to Jakarta to meet more relatives on Monday, the 24th.

And oh yea, I have photos of climbing Mount Merapi this weekend! 2,930 meters above sea level! Things to check off my bucket list: Climbing an active volcanic mountain. Here are some photos of my week.

The view of Semarang, Indonesia from above.

The coy fish pond in my aunt’s home.

My first day in Indonesia!
Right from left: Me, my Aunt Angely, Tante Elsie (Uncle Didie’s wife), Uncle Didie, and my cousin Gwen

Batik being made in Solo. Meticulously handcrafted.

At the summit of Mount Merapi!

Me and my climbing partners at the summit.

A view of Mount Murbabu from Mount Merapi. We lucked out with clear skies!

When research becomes personal.

My assignment for work this week is to convert my 63-page Masters thesis into a 1,800-word article for A Journey through NYC religions. I’ve been lolly-gagging on this assignment for months now, primarily because I can’t make up my mind on my lead. Furthermore, I fear that my article might be too personal and not objective enough. My research is based on a case study of food practices in an Indonesian church in Elmhurst, a multi-cultural enclave in Queens, New York City. In my opinion, it’s an interesting topic (food studies is relatively young) and one that has never been written about or studied, to my knowledge. My 6-month long fieldwork led me to interact with new Indonesian immigrants in NYC and talk to them about food and faith. Who would have thunk that the two topics would have significant correlations? Without getting too much into my research details, the fieldwork I conducted was life changing for me as an Indonesian immigrant who came to the US at the young age of 3.

As a result, my bahasa Indonesia improved (language skills). More significantly, I learned how to define myself within a community of Indonesians. Prior to my fieldwork, I had zero Indonesian friends and barely any knowledge of its culture and heritage. You bet I stumbled along the way in my first interviews and interactions with Indonesians, especially the older generation who are more conservative. With the younger generation in their 20s and 30s, they asked about my story and where my family is from. I learned to say: “Culturally, I’m Javanese. Ethnically, I’m Chinese. Nationally, I’m an Indonesian born in Semarang. But…I grew up in New York City.”

It’s a mouthful, but it sums everything up. Over time, the participants of my study became my friends. They marveled at my English-speaking skills and teased me of my broken bahasa Indonesian. They laughed at my lame jokes, shared their food with me, opened up their homes, and called me up from time to time to check in on me. They never expected anything back. I learned patience, modesty, and friendship from them.

As I mentally and emotionally prepare myself to visit Indonesia, I think of them and how much their friendship means to me. I will be visiting their home (well, our home) in less than a month. I imagine what it would be like to snack on satay from a food vendor with them, or eat nasi goreng on the side of the road. I feel more prepared for this next step of my journey because of them, and I couldn’t be more grateful for their presence and impact in my life.

Here we are having Indonesian food after church service. I’m in the back left!