Written in March 2013.

I partially wrote an entry in March 2013 that I never got around to finishing and publishing. I polished it off today and so here it is:

Today marks the start of my final month of travels. Traveling has been a whirlwind adventure, but I’m looking forward to changes soon. In the last month, I’ve significantly lagged in sorting out and organizing my photos, haven’t really been in touch with my friends and family back in America (except for the occasional postcard), and feel relatively unaccomplished as a person. Traveling is tiring me out and I can’t wait for time to process everything that’s happened on this trip. In quiet moments to myself, I reflect. Here are my thoughts so far:

1) Long term travel should have meaning and purpose, or else you’re just aimlessly wandering from town to town, unpacking and replacing your luggage, looking at endless maps. Luckily, before my trip, I had a question in mind: “Where do I come from?” Yes, obviously, Indonesia. But what is Indonesia beyond a country? I wanted to know where I fit in, in this idea of Indonesia. I believe having this goal throughout my trip helped me focus on why I was there in the first place.

2) Traveling is really a continual act of trusting. Trusting God, the universe, Life, oneself, whatever your higher power is, that all of your needs will be met. There was a time during my travels when I ran low on cash, and none of my ATM cards worked. I was in a very remote part of Indonesia that was so rural one had to use a flashlight if you had to visit the convenience store after sunset. Luckily, I had the company of a friend I recently made a week before. He loaned me cash until I had access to an Internet connection to Skype w/ my bank, which was five days later, and I paid him back. This is just one story out of many. Traveling taught me about the kindness of strangers.

3) Next time, bring half of what you initially intend to pack. These last months, I’ve given away shirts and socks to cleaning ladies, an old pair of headphones to a bicycle taxi driver, my old leather wallet to a village girl (as an attempt to downsize my important cards and documents in one location), and even left my bulky hardcover travel guide in a bungalow lodging by the ocean. I began to rely on the traveling advice of locals, other tourists, and the Internet to decide where to go next and how I was going to get there. As I let go of dead weight, I felt more free. Undoubtedly, less is more.

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.