First Impressions

Rachel and I arrived safely in Southeast Asia after three longs days of travel. We joined our roommate, Marie along with five others. It is hard to believe that it has only been a little over three weeks since I left home and started this new journey. As I have begun to become acclimated to my new home I find myself thinking this is like nothing I have ever known. The smells, the sounds, the sights, and the taste are all new. As I write this newsletter it is my desire for you all to get a glimpse into my life here and the people whom Dad has called me to love. However, how do I even begin to describe a culture? Here is my humble attempt:

As I began my walk this morning I took special notice of all the sights, sounds, tastes, and smells. Everywhere I look I see palm trees, other tropical-looking plants, and mountains off in the distance. As I walk down paved, potholed, speed bump filled streets I cannot help but realize that I am one of the few Caucasians here. I am surrounded by tan-skinned, black-haired, short, thin people in western clothing with half of the women covering their heads. Little stands, shops, and restaurants (warungs) are on the sides of the streets, right next to giant malls with super stores and parking garages.

As I continue walking, the rain begins (it rains everyday) but the hustle and bustle continues. A few cars, lots of blue vans (public transportation-mikrolet), a smattering of becaks (pedicab, rickshaw), and a multitude of motorcycles and scooters pass me on the street.

The smell of garbage, cigarette smoke, the little vendors and restaurants, and the exhaust fumes fill the air. The idea of taking a quiet walk and sleeping in the peace in quiet are no longer part of my vocabulary.

The sounds of street vendors, walking their carts down the street, yelling, playing their jingles on their stereo, hitting gongs, ringing bells, honking horns all in efforts to let you know what they are selling occur all hours of the day and night. Hungry cats meowing, college students playing loud western music, rain falling, people speaking a language that seems so difficult to understand, and mosques all around playing their calls to prayer, chanting and singing in Arabic at all hours of the day simply have become part of

my life.


As I begin to feel the heat on my neck I realize that it is later in the morning and it is time to make my way home. Ibu A (our helper who is a cousin) is already hard at work making lunch. Rice, sambal (the hottest salsa I have ever tasted in my life!), tempe (fermented soy), fried chicken, and tropical fruit are all staple foods. Since homes have less appliances and conveniences it is very common for homes to have a “pembantu” (a helper).

I exchange greetings with Ibu A. I often think about the day when I will be able to communicate more and be able to share Dad’s story with the people. Even though this land is so different I thank Dad for the privilege to bear evidence for him in a place that so desperately needs to know him, With that thought, I begin my language learning.

Note: I tried to include a caption for each picture but for some reason it did not work. So, here they are now:

1. Pasar Basar (big market)

2. Scenery

3. MOG (Mall Olympic Garden-aka: a giant mall)

4. Traffic on a rainy day

5. Riding in a becak

6. Kaki lima (Means 5 feet. The cart has 3 wheels plus your 2 feet hence 5 feet.)

7. Mosque

8. Chicken anyone? This is how they sell meat at that the open market.

8. Rambutan, a tropical fruit.