I leave Malang in nine days. This weekend is full of grading. Next weekend will be full of packing. What carried me this far?
Perhaps it was the fact that my favorite cafe (the very spot where I'm typing this blog entry) knows what I order each time I come, that I don't want egg on my chicken burger, but I do want cheese, that I don't want gula (sugar) in my tea, but I want it iced, and that I stay for 3-6 hours at a time doing work next to a window where a pond sits full of koi fish 2 feet behind me. Or maybe it's the fact that I bought a handful of snake fruit and coconut milk yesterday, went home after a long day, and ate my fruit on my couch while watching season three of LOST, totally alone, totally at peace. The back door was open, a breeze was slowly fanning the curtains, and the smell of burning garbage was not present.
It could be the ease with which I bike around town, on my motorcycle, free to roam into the rice fields, up mountains, and visit a waterfall about 30 stories high if I so chose. Or maybe it's due to the fact that my students showed up to present their final projects and about a third of them began by thanking me for being their teacher, for giving them all that I did, and for being part of their lives for ten months. I know I'll miss the $17 massages at the Tugu Hotel where I can take a hot shower afterwards and talk in broken Bahasa Indonesia to Nunik, my incredible masseuse that also treated the ELF before me. Of course I'll miss the ELFs that I've come to know and love (Tana Toraja would not have been as fun without you ladies), and going to see a movie for a dollar fifty.
Either way, it's been real. I'm going to miss the constant sunshine and sudden pounding rain, the fresh melon juice, and the overall simplicity of living. The lack of pressure to look a certain way. The easy smiles given to me by people at my University who've never met me but know who I am. I'm not going to miss the cigarette smoke wafting into my lungs uninvited, the gender discrimination, the homophobia, the constant honking of horns, or the little critters that follow my every crumb.
After a week of heroic paperwork and packing, I leave for a few days of decompression in Ubud, the artistic capital of Bali. There I will visit Healers, make jewelry, and observe temple worship. June 24th I fly to Perth. I'm scheduled to start work on an orchard, and a woman named Emily is picking me up at the airport. I might travel to Brisbane, where I've been invited to go hiking and biking, or I might fall in love with Western Australia and stay put all four weeks. Before landing on Chicago soil I'll spend one more weekend in Malang with my two Indonesian families, soaking up their hospitality and kindness.
Once back in Chi-town I have a place to stay while I find the perfect apartment, and a film to shoot in Pennsylvania in mid August with two of my genius film making friends. I plan to go on roller coasters at Great America, spend ample time at the beach, be with the people I left behind as much as possible, and bone up on my tarot card reading.
All in all, it's going to be a great summer. I can feel it.
