Down Under the Doona

Translation: I was in Australia, using a comforter on my bed because it was freezing cold, in the 50s!!

It is hard to put into words how “normal” it felt to be in Sydney. This is my first time back in the official “Western World” since arriving in Indonesia in April 2012. Yes, I went to Singapore for Christmas in December 2012, but something about Singapore was still not “The West” like I expected.

Honestly speaking, it could have been the fact that Singapore still doesn’t have that many white people. I am aware of the racialized ideology behind my unconscious-made-conscious idea that “The West” = white people. It’s a gross non-truth but it is still planted in my mind, despite the fact that I am righteously angry when Indonesians are shocked that not 100% of the American population is white (a fact I try to slip into conversation as often as I can!) As clarified by my friend Lauren, the US is about 72% white (2010 Census), though that includes everyone who identifies as Hispanic, so take that stat and reduce it, maybe by almost 10%?? (Check out the Census Bureau website, though, to accurately calculate for yourself. I find the way the stats are written confounding at times!) 

So maybe in my mind there has to be a certain percentage of white people for a country to be “The West?” Again, a very non-ideal way of thinking, but this is my blog and I aim to be honest, even if that means exposing my deep-seeded white privilege ideas. Sigh.

I’m working on unlearning white privilege. That’s the best I can say at this point.

Anyhow, why did it feel normal to be here?

•  A “normal” airport where I knew what to expect I’d see. Tons of gates, working Wifi, cafes, duty free shops…
• A super efficient train station
• White people. Tall people. Fat people (though not as many as the US). Thank you, Australia, for reaffirming for me that I am a normal-sized, beautiful young woman!
• Attending a dinner party at a friend of a friend’s house felt so comfortable. I’m missing those dinner parties, Inara, Kelsea, Allie, Wookie, Katya!
• Fast wireless internet
• I wander around and I am not afraid or bothered to be lost
•  Hiking in the Blue Mountains and being absolutely alone. Absolutely alone. I can think of one time when I felt that way in Indonesia. I went biking around my community and went out into the middle of a sugarcane field to get away from everyone. But that lasted literally only 6 minutes before some man came trudging through the fields to check on them. You are never alone in Jombang, East Java. Never.

Hiking in the Blue Mountains

Yet the Peace Corps was truthful when they said that I will be changed upon returning home. Australia wasn’t even “going home” yet (though admittedly it feels like it could have been!), but I still felt myself being aware of weird (yet normal) things and feeling a little strange in situations that, pre-Peace Corps, would have not been strange at all.

·      A desire to bend down with my hand out when passing in between two people who are in conversation.

·      Unconsciously not using toilet paper in the bathroom

·      Desiring a sprayer thing in the bathroom

·      Paying for stuff with my right hand, lest an Australian not be scandalized by me using my “dirty left hand.”  (Turns out, that habit left after just a few days.)

·      Feeling sorta empty when shaking someone’s hand to meet them and NOT then touching my hand to my chest. That handshake just felt, cold and incomplete.

·      PDA on the train was not cute. It was uncomfortably too intimate in a public setting.

·      Immediate gut-reaction fear of a group of school children in a museum. Oh God, they are gonna want a photo, or they will stare at me and giggle. But in Australia, I took a picture of them instead of vice versa!

·      Noticing that all Australian businesses, bars, tourist places, train stations, museums, everywhere have the same lock on their bathroom doors. I guess I noticed this because I usually am freaked out to touch Indonesian bathroom door locks??

·      Wearing my scarf around my nose (again, because I was freezing!) made me think of the handy masks Indonesians wear on the bus for germs. Darn it, why isn’t that a normal practice back home? It’s actually quite smart!

·      Taking a nap in the grass in Olympic Park. Now, for starters, in the US I was an avid, non-public sleeping person. I’d rather walk all the way back to Hunt House than try to take a nap in the Libe at Carleton, even if I only ha 30 minutes. I don’t “do” public sleeping. But since Indonesia, I’m just sleeping all over the place! I headed out to a grassy patch one day during the Hillsong Conference, and imagine my joy upon seeing people sleeping everywhere! There aren’t really public grassy parks where I live in East Java, so I almost threw myself to the ground and kissed the grass, but I composed myself. Instead, I sat down, got adjusted, and proceeded to nap with all the other nappers. What a concept!

Some most interesting things I learned in Australia?

·      Australians and Americans did/are doing the same things to Aboriginals and Native Americans. Genocide, relocation, assimilation laws, and now, court cases for land rights. Fortunately, I have been impressed by how often I read about and saw traces of Aboriginal culture and political/social issues when I was here. Unfortunately, how much of that was linked to cultural appropriation for tourism? Aka selling tourist objects. While this at the very least raises awareness about the need to preserve and respect the cultures, it does not encourage language learning, respecting religion, recognizing culture.

Black on White: Aboriginals on White Australians. NSW Library Exhibit

·      Just because they speak English doesn’t mean I can understand a darn thing they are saying. I found myself giving up after asking people to repeat themselves 2 or 3 times. Between the slang and the accent (but mostly the unclear sorta mumbly accent), I could not understand what someone was saying to me!

·      Many people called me darling, dear, hon. It was great! As one American pointed out, that may be rather creepy in the US. But here, it gave me a sense of belonging.

·      You don’t die Couch Surfing. It’s out! Mom, Grandma, I stayed at the house of a stranger that I found on the Internet. I stayed for three days with a Carleton friend’s wife’s friend, then for a week with a Carleton friend’s cousin, but with the last three days unaccounted for, I turned to Mary Wilcox’s Couch Surfing. I picked a 25-year old, very normal-looking girl (aka not an up-close, super tan and hot-stuff girl in a bar) to stay with, and it was great! She was very nice, well-travelled, and down to earth. She took me to a bar where there was crab racing. Awesome. Verdict? Couch Surfers don’t necessarily murder you. But maybe the guy who emailed me to tell me I could stay with him, calling me “sweat cheeks” (yup, he typoed. Sweat cheeks, how flattering) would have. Thus, I did not take up his offer.

Maya the Couch Surfer doing a ballon race! 

Perhaps the number one thing about Australia that made me feel like “Wow” was when I was in the National Museum the first afternoon I arrived. I was looking at the rocks and minerals, which I feel obliged to do at least a little because of Tyler Mackey and Nick Holschuh, and I had a sudden wave of emotion. Not because of the rocks, I assure you of that. But because I felt so normal. I was at a museum. Reading in English. People were not staring at me. I just felt right. Finally comfortable again.

Here’s to hoping the next year in Indonesia can teach me to be comfortable and truly, truly “kerasan” (to feel at home).