the Return of "Little Things"

Anyone who read my last blog at Solo Diaries, might remember my series of posts entitled “Little Things,” in which I tried to describe random observations that didn’t warrant posts of their own.  Here is my first attempt at a Little Things post for my DaninIndonesia blog.

The Indonesian Squat:

 

I don’t know if this is uniquely an Indonesian position, but I see it all the time.  (Unfortunately trying to snap a picture of an Indonesian in full squat-mode without getting caught is a little challenging so I can’t adequately demonstrate it here).  Indonesian men (I’ve only seen men & children do this, never women) will just drop down into full squat, feet flat, their buttocks mere centimetres from the ground, to hang out.  I primarily see this among what I would call labourers at worksites.  I strongly encourage you to try it – go ahead, I’ll wait…  Not that easy nor comfortable, is it?  Indonesians must practice this from a young age, in order to develop the right strength I their joints.  They stay like this for a long time.  Knowing what I know about ants (please see the aforementioned Solo Diaries blog) I don’t blame them one bit for minimizing body contact with the ground.  Also, I’m just going to say it, this is a position one must learn to use in the absence of a western toilet…

 

Wetness:

 

To live in Indonesia is to embrace a restroom that is never (ever) dry.  Indonesians don’t use toilet paper; instead they wash themselves either with a hose & spray attachment found next to most toilets, or in the absence of the hose, with a plastic ladle-like contraption coupled with a ‘bak mandi,’ a large cistern of water.  The floors are always wet; the toilet seats are always wet.  The walls are often wet.  As a result, most restrooms have mats at their entrances so people can wipe their feet – on the way out.  I try my very best not to think about the life forms that inevitably exist on these mats.  While on the subject of restrooms, I have made a startling observation:  At a urinal, there is an extra little spout at the top where one additional stream of water jets out.  I have recently discovered what this is for.  Indonesian men will wash themselves while standing at the urinal, splashing this extra stream of water on themselves.  I don’t know how they dry off afterwards, or if they dry off.  Frankly, I don’t want to know, thank you very much.  It also explains the urinal ‘splashguards’ I’ve seen in several locations – think of a sneeze guard at a salad bar, but picture it in the front of a urinal; it goes about halfway up, and at the top has a cutaway in the centre where one might put one’s…

 

Gotta Get Mine:

 

Having grown up in Canada, the land of “after you; no, I insist, after you,” I must admit that Indonesia can be a little bit culturally challenging.  Indonesians have no regard for what others may want.  Please don’t misunderstand – they are gracious hosts, generous in spirit and action, but they also don’t think to consider someone else’s needs.  One small example:  I work out at a local hotel gym.  This gym is poorly equipped and has literally one workout bench.  This workout bench is always, and I mean always, occupied by someone who is just sitting around watching their friend workout, or staring into a BlackBerry.  It never occurs to any of these people that someone might want to use it to actually work out.  I’m no longer shy about kicking someone off of it, and to the credit of the bench usurpers, they always graciously give it up with a sweeping hand gesture and a “silahkan” which means “please” in the offering sense.  The change room at this gym is much worse, with random guys hanging out in a very small locker area, blocking access to the door, lockers, and shower.  They make absolutely no effort to get out of one’s way as one tries to squeeze through.  I almost have to shove.

 

(And incidentally, female staff members regularly come and go from this change room; I think it’s the only way for them to access their staff room.  As I am the only person to ever actually get fully changed, i.e. naked, in this room – Indonesian/Muslim modesty?  Cultural norms around nudity? – it’s a miracle none of them have walked through at precisely the most embarrassing moment).

 

The gym is also a social hub of sorts.  Gaggles of girls will gather, especially around the treadmills, and talk, yell and giggle at typical Indonesian ear-splitting volumes for hours, without actually using the treadmills.  However, for me the treadmills are officially useless during these times as I value my hearing, and invariably when I interact with these girls in any way, even just to ask if I can use the treadmill, the result is a dramatic increase in giggling intensity and volume.

 

It has been explained to me that Indonesians are not selfish, nor are they inconsiderate; they just look at the world in a non-individualistic way, which means that, they would never think to put someone else’s needs or wants first, particularly a stranger, as they would never expect that stranger to put their needs or wants first.

 

Special Orders:

 

I once attempted to order a nasi goreng with extra acar (pickled veggies they usually give you in a little baggie on the side).  Seems simple enough, right?  Well this special request (remember nrimo – don’t question, don’t challenge, just accept it) caused such confusion either with the person who took my order, or in the kitchen, that it was simply ignored, I believe because they just wanted it to go away.  My colleague Naidi got his order no problem because he didn’t ask them to change anything, whereas we needed to explain and cajole repeatedly to get my order, which, the entire time was going to be out ‘sebentar’ (shortly).  Naidi was long finished his entire meal before we found out that mine was never cooked, and we needed to start over – this time with no special instructions, obviously!  Lesson learned; I have never again asked for anything.  I only point at menu items now, with a warm, non-threatening smile, and hope for the best.

 

Non-verbal, semi-non-confrontational communication:

 

I observed this during the height of the rainy season.  This picture was taken in the middle of a street.  On either side of this puddle with a pile of rocks in it, are street vendors, selling either food, cigarettes, gasoline, or yes, the ever common “tire inflation service.”  I imagine they must get pretty tired of continually being splashed by cars and motorcycles driving through this pothole when it’s full of water (and it’s almost always full of water).  They have placed large rocks in the pothole, in my opinion, not so much as a ‘watch out’ warning, but more of a ‘drive on this thing and cause damage to yourself and your vehicle’ warning.  I’ve seen numerous potholes filled in with debris, but an effort is usually made to keep it as smooth or as close to the height of the road around it as possible.  This one is jagged, haphazard, and kind of nasty.

 

And finally, Safety:

 

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