Trivia for Education 2010

And a fun time was had by all! I think that that would be the verdict on the 'Trivia for Education' charity night that Karawaci Ladies held last Saturday night. It was held in our local Aryaduta Hotel in the Mahogany Ballroom, and about 100 people attended. We had 5 "trivia masters" who asked questions on sports, entertainment, music, Indonesia and random trivia. We could have had even more categories if we'd had the time, but we managed to pack a lot into 3 hours.

When the holidays ended and everybody returned from their travels to home countries and the world in general, a few karawaci ladies put their heads together and planned. We'd booked the hotel before the holidays, but all the rest had to be done after that. We sent out letters requesting sponsorship and we were pleasantly surprised to find that the majority of businesses and individuals responded. We ended up with about 75 raffle prizes, which means that there was one for 75% of the crowd.

Tris was MC and he did a game called "Gotta Have It" where he asks for an item and whoever brings it up first wins a prize (this time it was a coupon or a starbucks bear). The best one was where he asked people to carry their best friend to him. A few people got tossed but it was fun:) We also had a few tables plan a theme and dress accordingly. Ours was the 'hairbrainers.' Tris had difficulty figuring out what to do with his hair...One of our tables came as nerds, and this is my favourite photo that came out of it:

our friend Joel grew his facial hair for a few days and shaved it to match his wonderful glasses (still not sure where he found those here in Lippo).

Ultimate nerd.

In the end, we raised about US$1850 to put towards our education fund (a new concept for Karawaci Ladies. Normally we raise for medical purposes, but those are much bigger amounts needed). Ultimately, regardless of the money raised and the raffle prizes won, I think it was a great opportunity for people in the Lippo area to meet and play together. We had a great mix of guests from our local school, university, businesspeople, Royal Doulton, a 'competitor' school outside of Lippo, an SPH branch school in Jakarta and some who I have no idea where they came from but who we were quite happy to have join us.

All in all, it was a good evening.

Thanks for reading.

A Trip Worth Millions

Some things are really easy to write about because they're funny or there's lots of information to fill a page, and other things I find difficult to put into words. I have had experiences here where each time I'm in the middle of one I try to imagine the way I'd describe it to others. Sometimes words just don't do justice to an experience. Unfortunately, sometimes photos don't either, especially when you've been asked not to take any because of sensitive circumstances surrounding an event. One of the most fulfilling things I have had the opportunity to participate in here is to go to a slum area with Abby and to sit in on classes with the children. It's this particular area that I am unable to describe with photos, and so I will try my best using words. For the record, we have taken a few photos on our small digital camera, but we've said that we will not post anything on FB or on our blog, so we'll just keep them for ourselves.

Abby and I are trying to set a schedule where we head out once a week around 4:30 and join 3 national teachers who have huge hearts for their country. These three women have decided that they can make a difference in their country by educating a small group of children who would normally never have a chance at an education. Starting in the morning, these kids beg alongside the road, taking turns knocking on car windows, in traffic, and hoping to help their families make some money. They come home before dark, eat a meal, wash up and on the nights class is held, come to class around 5 pm. The room that they hold class in is about 7 ft x 10 feet, and I believe it is in the front of someone's home. This shanty home is built within a long line of others, situated between an old cemetary (complete with tombs and tombstones) and a filthy dirty river. There's a big hole in the back of the house and it's from this river that the wind blows through the classroom, bringing with it a cool breeze and some mosquitoes, too.

Tonight as we drove up to the river, through the grave sites, we could hear the children cheering before we parked. They knew that we were coming because our angkot (public transport station wagon-bus) honked all the way in. It felt like a scene from some black and white missionary movie from Africa. We hopped out of the angkot, walked through the tall grass, down a hill that, thankfully, wasn't nearly as slippery as our last visit during the rain. Just as we reached the river's edge, we turned into the crowd of children, each of whom greeted us with a beautiful 'salam.' This greeting is one of those Indonesian traditions that gets my heart every time: a child will take the hand of an adult and greet them by placing their forehead or cheek on the adult's hand. It's neat that most of them do it with Abby as well, and they did it to her friend Zoe who accompanied us tonight.

Once we were able to move the crowd of children to just outside the 'school room,' past the skinny puppies and surprisingly fat, healthy-looking goats, and beyond the privacy of a woman bathing behind some rickety boards, we held hands in a circle and sang songs. Twinkle, twinkle is a favourite, even with the 10 year old boys. Skinnamarinky has the same effect on kids all over the world it seems, and the song about copying the person in the middle of the circle makes kids smile in any language. After singing, we all headed inside for some class time. Usually there are about 15 kids, divided into 3 classes, and 1 teacher plus a helper (Abby and I) for each class. Tonight I got to teach the older kids about families. It was great because I got to practice my indonesian and they got some english in as well. The greatest difficulty, when it's not raining, is trying to keep the attention of your class when there's a class of little ones to your right and a class of 7-9 year olds leaning into your "class" space from behind. When it is raining, you are also fighting the sound of the wind, thunder and rain, and sometimes, like our last visit, you are struggling to find a source of light when the power goes out. If you ever think of sending a care package, please send dollar store LED keychain lights. I realize just how handy those things are when you are in an electricity 'pinch.'

After class, the kids are responsible for stacking their tiny little benches at the side of the class, stowing their plastic school folders for another class day, and tidying up. They once again take our hands and tap their foreheads to them, say good bye, and follow us like a flock of goats back up the small hill, through the tombstones and grass, to our patiently awaiting angkot driver. It's usually during this part of the trip that I get emotional. By this time there are boats on the river, long, skinny boats with usually two men in them. One man fishes standing up and the other steers the boat. Others are squatting next to the river, hoping to catch dinner as well. Quite often the clouds are out and the sun is setting pink behind them. More often than not the birds are starting to sing their evening song, competing with the Muslim call to prayer in the not-so-distant distance.

It's in this place of death, surrounded by mud and tombstones, rickety shanty homes and garbage, that beauty still cries out. It's in the silhouette of the fishermen on the river and in the pink sun setting on the grass growing out of the tombstones; it's in the yawning, skinny puppies and the shy yet laughing, shabbily dressed children. It's in the way the kids run around their teachers, salaming and asking questions and saying "be careful" in Indonesian. It's in the way my daughter smiles as she climbs into the angkot, and in the dirt on her shoes that refuses to come off for days.

I'm not sure I can truly describe what I see and feel on these trips. All I know is that although it sometimes takes a kick in the pants to get us out the door for these trips, when I get home I'm usually hot, sweaty, dirty and smiling.

Thanks for reading.

From Knee-Length to Mini-Skirt in 45 Seconds or Less

Some of my posts take a few weeks to write in my head, and then finally I put them down onto "paper." This post just keeps popping up in my mind because the following story just makes me laugh. At myself. Again.

In Canada, by the time we got to the 2nd half of our journey, we were pretty rested up and manual labour looked kind of fun (it'd been a while, you know?). Tris' parents rent out their property/gardens for weddings during the warmer months, and one Friday night before a small Saturday wedding was to occur, we were tidying things up a bit. One of the given chores was to use the leaf blower to move dirt and debris, although a broom can do just as good a job in about 10x the amount of time. I won this job after much debate and hustling; I fought for the job because there's nothing like the feeling of accomplishment after one has literally "clean sweep-ed" an area. Once I figured out how to work the thing, and after Sunny and I finished our discussion on why I didn't need to go and change out of my skirt and into some grubbies (it was a cotton batik skirt that cost me about $2.50...I didn't think it was a big deal), I turned it on. All went well for quite some time, but it was about 3/4 of the way through that my arms began to get tired, and it became difficult to hold up the blower for very long. Occasionally my skirt would even get a bit close and 'stick' to the intake air vent. Some people don't take verbal suggestions very well, nor are they observant enough to recognize danger signs.

It wasn't until I felt heat against my legs, and was unable to move my thighs in any direction, that I realized that my skirt was not only venturing towards the engine: it had crawled inside! The motor started screaming a high pitched wail although, strangely enough, it had enough strength to keep on blowing at its regular force. I started yelling "Help!!!" and even though help in the form of Sunny and Matthew was only a few meters away, no one responded. Sunny looked up, smiled, and went back to her weeding. Matthew just kept listening to his i-pod. I yelled louder, laughing at the same time, and when Sunny looked up--she commented later--it seemed like I was having such a good time that I must be joking around with someone. Finally, it wasn't until I started yelling "No, I'm SERIOUS!!! HEELLLP ME!!" that Matthew gave me a funny look and decided to check out the situation. He came over and realized that he should probably turn off the engine. He then proceeded to try to catch the blower, which was still sucking my skirt into its belly, which in turn caused the skirt to tighten around my legs, which, combined with the force of the blowing air, was causing me to start to spin. Not an easy task for a young man, even one as co-ordinated as Matt.

Eventually, however, Matthew turned off the engine and removed my skirt from the fan. In all actuality, you'd think that after all that my skirt would have been a little piece of material, all in shreds, but it wasn't all that bad. If I was to cut out the damage, what was originally a knee-length skirt could become a mini. Not a good look, especially here in Indo. So, I gave the skirt to my sister-in-law, Laura, who hopefully can work that lovely pink and black piece of material into a quilt somehow. One of the best things about a quilt is that every square tells a story, and I like the story that the batik has to tell.

Advertising Billboard

Two weeks ago Tris and I gave permission for Abby to accompany a few other grade 7 SPH students on a photo shoot. There is a new school opening up in Jakarta at Kemang, and the shoot was to promote it. Although we are just a small community outside of Jakarta, we still got our own billboard, as seen above. If you look to the bottom right you can see a motorcycle, which gives you an idea how big Abby's head is in the photo. Just in case you miss this one, there is a second, slightly smaller billboard about 3/4 blocks down the road. Abby's story on this photo: the girls had thought the shoot was over and so they were skipping around, being goofy, and then the photographer wanted one more shot. It's this final shot that made the grade.

Thanks for reading.

First Two Weeks of School

July 27 was the first day of school this year for Matthew and Abby. Even the third time around it's weird knowing that back in Canada, all our friends' kids are still on holidays. What's even weirder this time is that it was pretty cool in Canada while we were there (until the last week) and now we're hearing reports that there are over 400 forest fires in British Columbia, our home province. Weather can change so quickly! Not only can weather change, but as these photos prove, so do children.

As I do every year, on 27 July I pulled out my camera to capture that bittersweet first morning of school. If you'll notice, not only

has Abby's uniform changed from last summer (she's now in Senior School)

but our front door has shrunk drastically. It's amazing how much your children can change in one year. Just for fun I've included the photo of our first year here...TWO years makes a huge difference. I think that maybe Tris has shrunk a little around the middle since our first few days here as well.

Our first two weeks have been very full and we've whipped

into the swing of things quite well. Tris is coaching rugby and Matt has joined rugby as well. This is special for me because when I was in Junior High my dad was a "rugger"

coach and my older brother Darren played. Of course at that age I couldn't care less about rugby (was more interested in the players) but I still love that there's a second generation of father/son in the game. I regret that my dad won't be able to watch the games but I can at least keep him updated with photos.

Abby's waiting for basketball in January and right now is joining the Glee Club, which is just like the show: singing/choir and dancing. Matt is also joining, but both of them are not crazy about the name BECAUSE of the show. Our school no longer has a separate choir or hip hop club and Glee Club is their option. Either way, they get to sing and dance. Photos to follow, I'm sure.

Thanks for reading.

What are they trying to say?

Here's a funny dvd cover that Tris bought the other day. We're not too sure what they were TRYING to say, but I'm not sure I want to check this one out. Maybe the word is PHOTOGRAPHY??? It's a DISNEY movie!

So Pleased to Meet You! (Stories from the Island)

I've thought over so many times how I can write a post about our trip home. Thing is, I can't. I can add bits and pieces in my blog about different events and people, but I cannot merge my 7 weeks there, all the different events, all the people and all the very special memories into one post. For me, it cannot be done. I can try to add photos, and that might take a while since I have over 2500. I will, however, introduce you to two new relatives of mine, and a third "addition" to our non-blood family.

Our first addition took place last Fall, when my brother

Darren married a special lady named Chrystal. We had the privilege of meeting her this summer. Mostly we spent a lot of time either hiking or chatting over food (what better way to get acquainted??), and enjoyed just getting to know her. I knew I loved Chrystal and that she fit right in when she refused to let a slightly mangled blackberry pie go to waste.

The second person I met was quite a treat for me. I'd waited a full 9 months, plus the 6 extra to get to Canada to meet him! He is Fisher Hayes, my brother Tyler's youngest. He's got a gummy smile that'll melt your ice cream (I know, I ate a lot when I was there) and a personality that will make an auntie wonder why they ever invented

the word 'no.' Not only did we all get to meet him, we also got to witness Fisher's first crawl. I think that made my summer right there. One of the best parts about meeting Fisher was watching he and his 2 older siblings, Lucy and Eli, interact. It's fun to watch a little 6 1/2 year old haul around her brother who is literally half her size, and I love to watch Fisher's face light up when his 5 year old brother pays even a smidge of attention to him. Next year, however, there'll be no hauling...Fisher will be up and running alongside his sister and brother, tackling their big cousin Matthew to the ground.

The third person I met, also a little one, was a little guy I wasn't supposed to meet until next summer, only because he wasn't due until after we left the Island. He is Benjamin Graham, and he was kind enough to pop into this world JUST a little early so that we could say hello. It was nice to visit his mom Esther, daddy Chris, and even grandma Lily, who flew all the way from India to say hello (and her 23 hours in the air takes the cake against our 18!!).

There truly were so many people to visit and so little time, yet we tried to pack in as much as we could. I realize that next year we'll have to change a few things, spend more time doing certain things and less at others. Hopefully each year we'll be a little wiser as to how to divvy up our time. Going home really is the best thing a girl could ask for when you live so far away.

Thanks for reading.