One man's musings on simultaneously becoming a stay-at-home dad and relocating to a new country. May include examples of creative efforts in writing,music and photography, though more likely just irregular updates on life in Jogjakarta, and the challenges and triumphs of learning how to be the primary carer in a country where you can't speak the language.
All images, unless otherwise stated, were photographed by me.
Jogja is well known as an arts hub, but you can often be pleasantly surprised when you stumble on pop-up art. Friday's find was along a route travelled often, between ISI (Institut Seni Indonesia - the Jogja art school) and Charlie's playgroup near Kasongan. Some nameless creative has made these wooden figures and wired them to the safety posts above the river. No name, label or other obvious identifier (unless "Nowhere" is significant). Maybe they are or were for a special occasion, or maybe for an art school project. But I like to think they were put there just for fun.
I think this next one is my favourite. In the background a wood-chip and aluminium foil mannequin hangs from a roof in front of graffiti wings painted on the wall to form a human butterfly, while the wooden figure with the long arms, big feet, wide gait and sticky-outy eyes steps over a safety post. I can easily visualise this guy moving, straight out of a 3d-animated kids film.
Behind him lies this scary looking crocodile sculpture perched watchfully atop the steep bank of the river. Again, no credit anywhere I could see for the maker. Evidently just someone having a laugh, putting a rather permanent artwork here to scare the living daylights out of anyone climbing from the river below.
The floor mat outside the toilet at Wisma Bahasa language school. Just look at it for a little while. And ponder.
Somewhere, sometime, somehow, someone thought it would be a good idea to make a bath mat. Makes sense, bathroom floors in Indonesia are very wet things. But to distinguish this bath mat from the many others on the market they needed a catchy design. And why not choose - of all the many things in the universe to wipe one's feet on - why not choose tennis balls? But what really gets me is this: if you are going to depict and identify tennis balls on your bath mat, why use an image of baseballs?
Yep - according to the experts the bun in the oven is sufficiently cooked, and the new addition to our familycould arrive any time now. Officially the due date is September 11, but who knows? The baby is clearly ready, as this video from about a month ago attests..
To be honest, I'm kinda starting to freak out about it. Not in the what-else-is-there-on-the-to-do-list-before-baby-arrives way. More on the conceptual level. I'm going to be a dad. Again. Our family is now going to be four people, not three. Charlie's going to be a big brother. That sort of stuff; big picture stuff.
Until now we've been focussing more on the immediate challenges that come with having a baby in a foreign country.
The language barrier is the obvious one. Being able to communicate with... well, just about anyone Indonesian. About when they baby is being born, where, how, with whom. Doctors, midwives, concerned well-wishers. I'm relieved that Kai speaks a reasonable amount of Bahasa Indonesia, as I just don't have the language skills to understand all the questions, let alone provide meaningful answers. I can order food, ask for an provide directions, book a ticket on a plane, or train or even get somewhere in a taksi. But fat lot of good that will do me in an emergency. The idea of being unable to represent Kai's wishes and needs if anything should go wrong... that's more than a little scary. And with about two weeks to go before B-day, there's not a whole lot of time to learn.
Another challenge has been the fact that, according to the Central Statistics Agency survey from 2010, "only 1.2 million, less than one percent, Indonesian people are Rh negative", so Anti-D (look it up if you don't know) is only available by import and therefore expensive - $200+ for a shot they give for free in Australia - and finding a willing donor in case of emergency was something to worry about, now fortunately sorted.
How about finding a midwife and doctor who support your own belief in birth being a perfectly natural process, requiring intervention only when things are going wrong? That's a problem anywhere, but in Indonesia (and presumably most developing countries madly chasing their own perception - perhaps as much as 20 years out of date - of 'how they do it in the West') , it was even more of a challenge.
Thankfully the midwife part is sorted. We found an amazing bidan - midwife - based in Klaten, a town a little over an hour's drive north east of where we are living. Bidan Kita - loosely, our midwife - is a small practice run by an amazing woman who teaches meditation and hypnotism as tools to reduce pain of labour. She's rather more out-there and mystical than Kai or I, but we are comfortable and reassured with her as our midwife. Doctors - not quite. The one doctor we were recommended by a German-Indonesian couple turns out to be be very much of the 'I am the expert, I know best' model. And has all the personality of a brick wall. This doctor works at what is widely regarded as the best rumah sakit (literally, sickness home, or hospital) in town, which is reassuring, but seems to be quite at odds with the non-intervention (unless necessary) model that we aspire to. Kai has visited an alternative hospital and given it the thumbs up, but we have not yet met the doctor there who is apparently a little more in tune with our vibe.
Rencana A (plan A), as previously discussed, is for a birth at home, ideally in water. That requires a bath. A bath which we've ordered and were promised 10 days to delivery, about 14 days ago. Problems from the manufacturer's supplier, or some such. Getting nervous.
A car we have planned to have on standby for all of September, because taking a labouring woman to the hospital (if needed) on a scooter is, while comical, perhaps not a smart idea. Not yet confirmed.
Cloth nappies - also a rare thing over here.
And so on. It's these details that mean you don't really have the time or headspace to contemplate the gravity of what's about to happen.
We have done our best to prepare Charlie for big brotherhood, and I'm confident he is as ready as any child can be ahead of such a massive upheaval. His affection towards the bump is one of the sweetest things we've ever seen.
Right now we have a Dad somewhat slowly realising what's about to happen, a Mum battling Braxton-Hicks and nasty leg cramps who is basically over the whole pregnancy thing, and a fair few pieces of the plan yet to fall into place. There's much to be excited about, but we're in now rush. Besides, I haven't made enough use of baby shelf yet.
Not sure how much blogging there will be between now and the bub arriving, and perhaps expecting even less than that afterwards, at least for a little while as we adjust to being a family of four. But in the meantime, just know that we are all reasonably healthy, happy, and basically just excited. Sure, having a baby here is at times scary and challenging. But all in all we are just looking forward to meeting anak dua (child number 2).
I'll conclude with a picture of a random statue in honour of breastfeeding, which I stumbled upon not far from Charlie's playgroup. I have absolutely no idea if this is outside a village midwife or just randomly placed. But it made me feel reassured that pregnancy and childbirth and motherhood and parenthood are universal, and that as a team, our family will be fine.
Hey. How's it going? It's been a while. Sorry about that. In short, life's been good. Definitely 'living' in Jogja these days. It really doesn't feel a holiday any more. And that's perhaps the main reason I've not been updating the blog very regularly. We experience so much every single day that might be extraordinary for folks back in Australia, but having been here for six and a half months, they just don't strike us as being unusual. Because of this, I'm not really sure what I've logged on to write about. Saya tidak punya rencana - I don't have a plan. Perhaps I'll just put some photos up, in date order, and see if the story tells itself. We're coming towards the end of dry season. Counter to my preconception of the tropics, the dry season is actually incredibly dry. Hardly any rain. Perhaps two significant downpours in three months, and maybe only another 3 or 4 showers - at least, down here in Tembi. Maybe closer to the volcano in the north they get more rainfall (courtesy of the orographic effect - one thing I actually remember from high school geography!). But down here in the village it seems drier than Canberra. Consequently, the staff do spend some time watering the garden. Here's a pic of Charlie helping out, in the lush surrounds of Yabbiekayu. Here's an early evening shot from early July, of the sawahs behind out house, resplendent and green with tall rice almost ready for harvest, with clouds gathering along the mountain ridge to the east. Even in the depths of "winter", Jogja's climate is very pleasant. The dry season is a very comfortable max of low 30s by day, down to overnight lows of low 20s and even occasionally mid-to-high teens. Certainly colder in the middle of the night than in wet season, but not noticeably so during most days. Right now, at 9:30pm on 22 August, I'm sitting in the house with doors wide open, the breeze drifting in from the sawah, in shorts and a t-shirt. The weather app on my phone says the current temperature is 25 deg C, with an apparent temp of 27. There have a been a few nights where I have been cold, and needed to drag a light blanket over the top of the thin sheet that is our only other covering. A couple of times I even needed to turn the bed fan off, too. Dingin - cold! One thing's for sure: the Facebook posts from back home of mornings clocking in at -8 degrees C sure don't have us rushing to get back! One thing we are definitely missing is cooking. The joy of a home cooked meal here cannot be overstated, as it is drastically less frequent than back home in Canberra. The food from warungs and even restaurants is so incredibly cheap here, it is actually more expensive to buy ingredients and cook yourself. But when we do, it is like eating happiness. Pumpkin soup, chicken casserole, spaghetti bolognese, even simple cheese and salad sandwiches are a sure-fire cure for the blues. Here's Charlie helping his Mum prepare corn fritters. And here he is, enjoying home made banana 'ice cream' - nothing but pure frozen banana put through an ice cream maker, sprinkled with Milo. Tropical climate dessert awesomeness. As you can probably tell, Charlie is doing really well. He has settled in comfortably here, and to my knowledge hasn't yet requested to go "home" to Canberra. He spends his weekdays at an the amazing playgroup we found a couple months after we arrived. It's a Waldorf model playgroup (or Steiner, for those more familiar with that name), so the guiding principles are learning through play in a natural environment. Other schools we looked resembled concrete playgrounds with welded metal play equipment and a rather rigid teaching structure. I'm sure the 8am Monday English lesson and the 9:30am Wednesday maths lesson are excellent - but our son is 3 and half years old. Getting covered in mud and building a sailboat out of half a coconut shell, a piece of bamboo and some material off-cuts is what we see as being more important at this stage in his development. So this playgroup (named Kulila, in Kasongan) is ideal. Non-exclusive religiously, with children from a range of nationalities (many with one Indonesian parent), it is a place for Charlie to learn and grow and play with other kids, in a forest-like garden rather than a concrete one. He loves it and we love it. Here he is, playing with two of his playgroup buddies, and helping one of the gurus (teachers) move the wheelbarrow. When Charlie's not at playgroup, we sometimes find it a challenge to entertain him. In Canberra it was easy enough to just jump on the bike and ride along a nice bike path to a nearby park or playground. Jogja doesn't really have parks. Or bike paths. Or playgrounds. Not open aired, free-to-use ones, anyway. There are plenty of shopping malls, many of which include a kids play area for which a ticket costs the equivalent of about $3 AUD - rather expensive by Jogja local standards. But worth it for struggling parents. These play areas are invariably obscenely loud, crowded, and all rather similar. And he's usually the only white child there, sometimes resulting in his being showered in attention from other kids, especially slightly older girls who like to mother him - which is both good and bad, as I will perhaps discuss in a separate post.
Another favourite way to occupy an hour or two is to put him on his green bike and ride around the village. Sometimes he stops to play with other kids, but as often as not he's happy just riding around and finding driveways or slight inclines in the road, so he can go naik, naik, naik (up, up, up) and turun (down). Here is a picture of him riding his green balance bike, which he's very nearly too big for now.
It's not all about Charlie though. My wife is doing well with all of her endeavours. She has completed her language immersion semester at UGM (Universitas Gadja Mada), and is now focussed on her Midwifery honours year by correspondence with Uni of Canberra back home.Well, that and growing a new addition to our family. Hardly surprising to those who know her, she is excelling in all these pursuits. While it has taken a while to put all the ideas together in a structured way, the insights gained through being immersed in this very rich and different culture coupled with her own first-hand perspective as an expectant ex-pat mother and western-university-qualified midwife in Indonesia are providing a sense of direction for her thesis. The pregnancy and our experiences are worthy of further explanation in a later blog, so for now you'll have to settle for a photo of my lovely wife, glowing at about 7 months pregnant.
I could perhaps talk about my own experiences, but this post is already getting a bit long and I need to leave something for future episodes! In the interim, here's a selfie of me in my new(-ish) specs.
And a funky retro car, just because Jogja's cool like that.
And finally, a photo I took of a bird house, sunflowers and a view across the sawah to the south of the Yabbiekayu bungalows. When you stop and remind yourself that you are living somewhere else, you notice again just how beautiful the place is.
We had a final breakfast together with the grandparents. Charlie amazes everyone by perusing the menu, and confidently requesting poached eggs and juice.
On returning to Jogja, the can of Beer-That-Is-Not-Bintang someone left in the fridge was certainly a nice welcome home present.
(Evidently I am not great at catching up on these posts!) Again, many happy things to choose from on a busy but lovely day in Ubud. Charlie building a "bucket princess"
Shopping in Ubud market - in some ways an unpleasant experience, with the harassment from taxi drivers and market peddlers - but I did purchase a very nice Balinese sarong. (Sadly don't have a photo handy) After a much needed sleep, the adorable son told us he was calling his Cousin Leo in Germany on the hotel room phone.
Our last night together before parting ways, so we wanted to do something special. Sadly, Poppy's tummy was still not good so he stayed home and slept. The wife, the son, the mother-in-law and I went for a sensational dinner at Bridges Restaurant. Very expensive by Indonesian standards - but very fancy, and thoroughly delicious. With beautiful ambience - and white wine!
And capped it all off by finding a tailor/clothes hop open late at night selling some cool clothes, including red thai fisherman pants, dark blue thai fisherman shorts, and a nice shirt to match - all for about $13 and coming home with me. I'll find a photo later.
Flew to Bali for a 'farewell Nanna and Poppy' holiday. Sad to be saying goodbye after having them around for two weeks. But nice to have a holiday with them, especially somewhere other than Jogja as it gives a bit of perspective. Ubud is nice, but like much of Bali it is hugely impacted by tourism in a way that makes me feel somewhat uncomfortable. The all-too-frequent harassment from private taxi drivers and souvenir merchants - "no, I do not want to buy a carved wooden phallus keyring, thank you - and I don't care how much good luck my buying it will bring you - kind of made me appreciate the absence of the same in Jogja, at least in the areas I frequent. And wow, everything - especially food - is SO much more expensive in Bali compared to Jogja! Definitely finding happiness in the reminder of how much I like my current home.
Poolside sculpture, D'Omah Hotel, Ubud.
One reason for choosing Ubud is the existence of Bumi Sehat, a fantastic birthing centre focussed on natural birth and an absolute inspiration for my wife, in the early stages of her midwifery career. It clearly meant a great deal to her to visit Ibu Robin Lim and see this place that models my wife's ideals. With our new addition due in early September, this place is certainly an option for us, and having visited and like the place is a huge relief for my wife and for me. Of course, due to restrictions on flying late in pregnancy we'd need to move to Ubud for a month or so. I just don't know if I'd cope!
Woke in the bungalow to a beautiful Tembi morning. Sunlight streaming into the courtyard, a gorgeous view out over the sawah, a spider basking in the warm rays while the light glints off its glorious web.
Rather at odds with the hustle and bustle of the University Gadjah Mada food court where I joined my wife for lunch. But yay for different experiences. And delicious food plus a fresh blended fruit juice for about $1.40 AUD - what's not to be happy about? (Perhaps not so much happy days material, but this guy, riding his scooter bare of foot, noggin protected only by a toy helmet, and wearing a girdle of massive saw blades.... ummm... yeah, I'm in freakin' Indonesia, baby!)
It was only a matter of time. There's never been much reason for the kids to visit Rumah Dave (Dave's house) - and I imagine that behind the gates and walls this house might have been seen with a sense of a mystery. But now that Rumah Dave has become Rumah Charlie, curiosity has conquered fear.
At first it was just a couple of girls, who approached with apparent trepidation, asking from the yard if Charlie would like to bermain(play). But today they ventured in through the gates, to door step. Chartlie wheeled over his toy box, and before long they were sitting inside on the floor, sharing his colouring books and other toys.
It's beautiful to watch him interacting with other kids despite the language barrier. But when you think about it it's not all that different to playing with toddlers back home, where they are all only just learning English.
Dinner at Kesuma Restaurant tonight. The food is so good here. Indonesian, but with a depth and complexity to it that distinguishes it from the regular fare. When Charlie was done with his usual activity of stoning to death (or severe irritation) the fish in the pond, he took to sitting on the front step, counting in bahasa Indonesia the motorbikes as they went past. No wonder he can count well beyond seratus (one hundred)!
After a refreshing morning swim, Charlie and I sat down for a drink and a bite to eat. The loudspeaker of the local masjid (mosque) crackled into life for the midday call to prayer. And the adorable little guy starts copying the Imam, singing his own call to prayer. I only wish I'd been quicker on the draw with the camera - but I captured one of Charlie's repeated versions.
We were picked up early (6:30am) for a car trip to a village in the Gunung Kidul region east of Jogja.
The purpose was for a cultural experience, attending a local school to talk to the children about where we are from, to expose the children to other languages and cultures, and to hopefully inspire some of them to think about possible futures beyond the boundaries of their own village.
We began with a rousing rendition of the Indonesian national anthem sung by the kids. And then a lot of talking in Indonesian, most of which went way over my head. But the song and dance performances - almost all by the girls while the boys sat watching - were really sweet.
We played a game, where some of the children were encouraged to ask us a question in English, in return for a prize. The questions were simple - do you like Indonesia, what food do you like here, what is your favourite food from Australia. And then I got to ask a question - and I challenged them to point to Australia on the map of the world hanging behind the stage area. IT too a few goes, but eventually they got it. I'm not sure many Aussie kids of a similar age would be able to point to Indonesia without a little help.
Kai and her Mum taught the kids (again, mainly the girls) how to play that clapping game with the song "A Sailor Went To Sea Sea Sea", and the kids played a game of catch that was very similar to a game I remember from my own primary school days many years back. Some more dancing, some more singing, and the young Moroccan lady on the trip with us sang a song for the kids. There was a closing thank you, we were presented with certificates of attendance. And then it was time to go.
We jumped back in the car and headed to the beach for the afternoon. It wasn't really a swimming beach, but it did have a cave, and with a little effort were able to source a seafood lunch.
All in all an interesting day, and no doubt something a little different for Charlie's grandparents to experience as part of their visit.
