Be Warned Monster Ikan Lele: Maybe Your Days are Numbered

Yesterday, offhandedly, when Rusnati and I were discussing the need for more fish food, she commented on the size of the Ikan Lele--the slimy, bewhiskered, suspected murderous fish currently occupying our pond.

“When they are big enough is Rohemon going to eat them?” I asked.

She nodded, considering. “Munkin, maybe,” and giggled. “Munkin Rohemon and Sugiman."

“Good.” I nodded, remembering the last time she and her daughter Andrea wadded in to catch the pond fish. I want to be there for this Great Lele Capture, too.

Beware! Be warned! slimy monster fish lurk beneath these seemingly harmless drain-clogging water lily leaves.

“Maybe Mister will want to eat them,” Rusnati continued.

Ignore It...It Will Go Away

The lease on our Jakarta house has been renewed! Both parties are delighted. The landlord is happy we are staying; we are happy to have the process done with…almost.

Rusnati and I have discussed this vacant house problem with regards to Rohemon’s mother’s home in the Kampung, a village near Cirebon.

His mother, Ibu Rohemon, passed away about 4 months ago. (Ibu means lady and mother.) It is common to address a grown woman as “Ibu” followed by her given name, or the name of her child, in this case it means Mother of Rohemon. (A maiden lady, either unmarried or young, is called “Nona.” I want to be called “Nona.”) Ibu Rohemon’s passing left her home, with all her belongings inside, empty and vulnerable. A situation that has caused Rusnati and Rohemon ceaseless worry.

As I mentioned previously, the lease renewal process is complicated. Unlike rentals in the States, before resigning a lease the tenant and landlord negotiate what repairs/changes will be made. Also unlike in the States, often the rental price goes down a little or stays the same—the landlord’s way of saying thank you for not leaving me with a vacant house. The nice part about this lease renewal system is, as a tenant, one has the opportunity to have the house repaired, repainted, and even remodeled. Some Expats, my friend Rena, for instance, love, love, love lease renewal time! She had every bathroom updated, the kitchen completely remodeled, and a covered patio built; another friend, Beverly, had them knock out walls and expand her closet. In comparison, our list is small—painting, refinishing woodwork, oh and to replace a tub in one bath with a shower. (I decided to be nice and leave the pond as is for now. The monster ikan lele are grow fast—bigger and more sinister every day.)

During the negotiation process, I heavily stressed that our house is a showcase, and how several other families have moved into this and other complexes owned by the same family after visiting us. So, when the landlord’s representative, Ibu Adiz Lin (spelled as it sounds), phoned to make an appointment to finalize the repair list with me, we set the stage. Rusnati and I had the house ready: clutter hidden, candles lit, music playing, when she arrived.

Adiz Lin is a delightful Chinese-Indonesian who looks 20, is probably 35, and speaks perfect English (lucky me.) As we walked through the house discussing each item on the list, Adiz Lin commented on how lovely everything was. I thanked her, smugly congratulating myself on being a model tenant and brilliant house manager.

On the way out the kitchen door to the servant’s quarters, I emphasized that item #4 on the list: Paint Outside of House included the servant’s quarters. I spoke in a tone intending to convey “you have seen my home; my servants deserve the best, too.” Everyone was busy busy in the back of the house: Losari, who helps Rusnati with ironing, stood in one bedroom (sweat cell) ironing away; Rohemon sat fiddling with gardening tools; Rusnati hung laundry; Aan sat on his perch in the garage. All was right in our little world.

Rusnati has a list, too,” I told Adiz Lin. On cue, Rusnati ran to get her list. Aan popped his nosy head in from the garage. Instantly an animated discussion began with everyone chiming in with needed repairs. Rohemon wanted branches cut off the mango tree because the leaves blew everywhere—even over the roof to the front of the house, clogging the gutters, making more work; Aan wanted to be sure “his” garage was painted, along with the rest; Rusnati wanted the latched fixed on the kitchen door, etc. etc. When the chatter died, I started on my list:

“Are there were any other repairs needed in the bedrooms?”

“No.”

“The kitchen area?”

“Paint only.”

Adiz Lin walked beside me looking in and taking notes as I continued.

“What about the mandi? Adiz Lin started toward the bathroom door.

Rohemon jumped in front of the door, blocking her entry.

“No,” Rusnati called.< Everyone fell silent. They looked at each other.

“What?” I asked.

“Tikus,” Rohemon muttered. A rat was trapped in the mandi. A huge one I surmised from the distance between the hands he held up—they were about 18 inches apart.

“In the mandi?” Adiz Lin repeated. “A rat? Show me.”

Another rapid-fire discussion ensued during which even Losari took part. No one wanted that door open. No one wanted to see the rat.

Adiz Lin did, though.

Rohemon stepped aside. The women-folk (me included) pushed back against the walls to make room for the rat to run unhindered. Aan took a step back and Adiz Lin reached for the handle.

She eased open the door.

We watched, waiting.

Rohemon peeked inside. Rusnati, Aan, and Adiz Lin peeked inside.

She opened it wider. The rock covering the drain hole had been pushed off to the side. The rat was gone. But there were plenty fish oil capsule-sized poo-poos surrounded the drain hole to prove its existence.

Aan and Rohemon continued the “tikus” tour. It seems that there is a hole in the garage, too. Rats come into the garage at night leaving poo-poos behind.

The garage is attached to the house…attached…inches away…could that be what’s making those night noises?

Rohemon pointed out a hole in the screen leading to the back yard. “Masuk,” he stated, the entrance.

I go from shocked to humiliated, embarrassed, mortified…MAD. There went my House Beautiful/Model Tenant of the Year Award—and my bargaining chips. And after all my bragging about how well we take care of their property…

Why hadn’t anyone told me about the rats? It’s not as if we have never used rat poison before. Like the time I spotted that giant rat drinking from the pond waterfall and after we found the rat’s nest behind the pillows on the Bali bed…and then there was that rat, when Mike and Liz were visiting, the one that ran behind Liz’s chair during dinner and we pretended not to notice so she wouldn’t freak. This is April for crying out loud. It’s not Ramadan, when you’re not supposed to harm anything, that’s months away. Between Aan, Rusnati, and Rohemon, you’d think one of them would have told me we need RAT POISON. (Come to think of it, maybe this is why Losari makes up excuses to leave work early, and why she hides in that sweat cell.)

And here I thought Rusnati told me everything. She certainly tells me plenty; so does Aan. Now, come to find out, a dog-sized rat and its rat family takes full run of the back of the house, eating, chewing, biting whatever they chose and no one, not one of them, says a word to me about it. They simply closed the door.

Ignore it, and it will go away… Seriously?

International Letters

An infected eye prompted a call to my eye doctor in Singapore, Dr. Heng. Although Singapore was once governed by the British, and most everyone is a native English speaker, they don't speak the same English we Americans do; they don't even speak English the way the English do. Singaporean English sounds like that of a non-native speaking Asian person--it is cloaked in a heavy accent. So, communicating with people in Singapore is sometimes a challenge. It can be especially challenging when trying to convey character-sensitive information as Dr. Heng's assistant was trying to do this morning. Dr. Heng had given her the name of 2 eye medications I should suggest my doctor in Jakarta prescribe for my eye infection. Her method for insuring that I wrote the letters correctly was a twist on the familiar radio method--Alpha Bravo Tango--a uniquely International twist that worked beautifully while tickling my funny bone and highlighting our increasingly smaller world. "Can you spell those medications for me?" I asked.        "Yes," she said. "B-Burma, L-London, E-Europe, P-Philippines, H-Holland, A-Australia, G-Greece..."

I chuckled and commented on how much I liked her way of spelling. There was a long, puzzled pause. Finally, she said, "Yes, it works."        Dr. Heng's Assistant spelled out two other medications in the same way, using India for I, Thailand for T, Pakistan for P...she finished spelling the medication with " Xylophone for X."          Surely some city or country name begins with the letter X?         Alex Trebek where are you?

India in Perspective

We returned from 17 days in India Sunday afternoon travel weary, stiff and sour-smelling, with our luggage over-stuffed with treasures and our minds over-flowing with images.  Monday bright and too early Curtis motored off to work and I trudged in to face my desk and the luggage and the household details that had piled up while we were gone. More than 800 e-mails pulsed at me from the cue...blink...blink...blink...  Since then Curtis and I have been in overdrive pushing forward, working our way through the mess, allowing our recent trip to recede, as if the past weeks were nothing more than billboards beside the Expressway. In a certain room in my house, along with assorted other reading materials, I keep a book called Art & Soul: Notes on Creating by Audrey Flack. Art & Soul is a collection of snippets, observations, quotes related to art. On occasion--regardless of how busy I am--I have reason to sit in that room with minutes to ponder. This morning, during one such enforced break from my monster to-do list, I picked up Art & Soul. I turned to the following passage:

Day 5: Late Afternoon (page 141)

I walk rapidly to the East Wing of the National Gallery to see the "Sculpture of India" show. I have exactly one hour until the museum closes. I urn up the stairs, into the elevator. I want up--the tower; it goes down. Pressured for time, overworked, overstimulated, I finally enter the exhibition space and am met with calm and serene buddahas, goddesses, and bodhisattvas, bestowing grace and wisdom. For the first time in a week, the tension drains from my body and I am at peace in front of these ancient statues. What a blessing. I silently thank all of those ancient sculptors and stonecarvers for the years of loving and caring--every jewel, every bead precisely chiseled and sanded. Thank you.

Namaste.

Vote for NOT NORMAN!

Norman the goldfish is flipping and flapping with joy! NOT NORMAN, A GOLDFISH STORY has been nominated for the Oregon Reading Association’s Patricia Gallagher Picture Book Award. So, if you are in Oregon, vote for Norman!

If you know folks in Oregon—call them! Write them! Buy them a copy of NOT NORMAN!

Vote! Vote! It’s the duty of all goldfish lovers everywhere!

Go to: http://www.oregonread.org/gallagheraward09.html

Packing Light…er

Never actually having seriously considered the term “packing light”--my last return flight from the States, I checked 3 bags, 2 of which were perilously close to the 70 pound limit--I have had a very difficult day. I leave for West Papua tonight on a “Remote Destinations” trip.  Remote Destinations is the name of the travel company, owned by Leks and Linda Santosa, which is organizing and leading the trip. Remote also stands for “far away and hard to get to.” We will fly overnight from Jakarta to Timika, West Papua, arrive early tomorrow morning and transfer to a twin-engine propeller airplane. From there, our luggage will either be toted by broad-backed porters, or ferried in shallow-draft boats through swampy, steamy, buggy, formerly cannibal-infested mangrove forest--sounds exciting doesn't it?

 Purportedly, the weight restriction was set by the charter airline company. (However, I suspect the weight restrictions may also have been imposed because the porters on our last trip to Papua complained.)

Each passenger had to submit his/her weight. (Accurate weight, I was cautioned, as each passenger will be weighed before boarding the plane.) Our luggage will also be weighed—carry ons, purses, computers, all of it—and will be loaded onto the plane according. Now, normally….often, as you can guess by the baggage I mentioned above, I don’t worry too much if my baggage is a little heavy. However…

Following is a note I received from Linda two weeks ago regarding our travel arrangements:

Hello, All.
As you know, Leks went to West Papua last Sunday to finalize all arrangements for your trip....Unfortunately he has run into a series of bad problems. First of all, the Charter which he had booked for you--the Twin Otter through Trigana--has two big problems....Trkigana actually has 2 Twin-Otters. One recently slid off the runway at Bioga in the mountains and the other they have just discovered 3 days ago needs a new engine...Which has been ordered and the plane is supposed to be ready to fly in 2 weeks...But no guarantees.

SO....Leks and Cindy have tried to contact the following companies in the last two days: Mimika Air Airfast Susi Air AMA Papua--who say they will not take tourists Merpati Avia Star

At the moment we have had no luck with any of these....BUT Leks is running around talking to airline pilots all day today and tomorrow.

Never fear: Leks found an airplane to take us to Papua. Smaller than the Twin Otter—and with weight restrictions—restrictions for which I have suddenly developed a healthy respect.

The per-person weight limit for the trip is undisclosed; the baggage weight limit is: 1 duffel bag, 15 kilos max (33 pounds) and, after we women whined loudly, an extra 5 kilos for carry-on—which sounds like a lot, doesn’t it?

Over the past few days, I have been gathering supplies for the trip. (Keeping in mind that we will only be gone 4 days.) I piled everything on the dining room table, cross-checked it with the supply list, and then began jettisoning whatever I could. Afterwards, I stuffed everything into my duffle and weighed it. Now I’m in the process of culling again. How the heck is anyone supposed to pack light when everything is so dang heavy?

• 1 lightweight hiking boot: 1.5 lbs (Yes, I will pack two--soon as I find the other one)
• Flashlight (ready to go): 3/4 pound
• Extra batteries: 1/3 pound
• Small toiletry bag (hotel sizes of everything): 2.5 pounds
• Undies, socks & 2 bras: 2.8 pounds (ditch the underwires?)
• Treat & drink bag: 7.5 pounds (that will get lighter quickly…maybe preflight)
• Walking stick: 3/4 pound
• Camera (no extra anything): 1/2 pound
• 298 page Paperback novel: 1/2 pound (It’s a YA; maybe they are heaver by nature?)
• Cosmetics bag: 1 lb, 10 oz (No I can not cull…I need every item)
• First aid kit/medication/vitamins: 2 1b, 5 oz.
• wallet: 1/3 pound
• Clothes: ...

Clothes? What clothes? There isn’t weight left for clothes…

The Cost of Expat Eating

Living in Jakarta as an expat has its challenges---but hey, that’s part of the deal, right? One of the reasons we live here? Didn’t we take overseas postings so we could experience different ways of life? And after all, Jakarta is a different country—on the other side of the world from the U.S! It makes sense that the customs, attitudes, life-styles would be different, doesn’t it? Still, that doesn’t stop us from wanting to stock our cupboards with some good, old-fashioned home-style comfort food staples, such as All Bran and Crisco and Fritos. When you ask expats what it’s like living in Jakarta, the one hardship almost all focus on is FOOD. The difficulty they have finding their favorite “home-style” food. “I had to go to three-four-six different import stores to find the ingredients I needed to make this ___________(fill in the blank with some American, you-can-find-it-at-SAM’s Club, Dutch, South American, French, or Italian specialty),” they complain. Right now Curtis and I are in the Taipei airport transit lounge waiting for our flight back to Jakarta. After 6 long weeks away, I was really looking forward to getting back home—was being the operative word. I just downloaded my e-mail. Included was a notice from Mary Ann Wiley the founder and owner of Upper Crust, our friendly, neighborhood American Comfort Food Caterer (who also serves up a tasty Mongolian BBQ). Mary Ann moved to Jakarta with her husband, Claude (an oil guy), back in the late 70’s or early 80’s, back when the only expat food available had been smuggled into the country in some expat’s suitcase, back when the only restaurants in Jakarta were in hotels, back before McDonalds, Burger King, and KFC started competing with the rolling food carts off the road. Mary Ann built an empire by catering to Americans needing a comfort food fix. And now, with imported food scarce again, she is making a come-back.

Upper Crust e-mail, Friday, March 06, 2009: (The exchange rate is roughly 10,000 Rp to the dollar so RP 50,000 is about US $5.00)

Because of the Indonesian government's ban on imports, there are a lot of things we can't find in Jakarta now. I have access to a number of items you may be searching for.

Chocolate Chips * Rp 50,000 per 12-oz. bag Vanilla * Rp 40,000 per 100-gram bottle Imported Lay's Classic Potato Chips * Rp 70,000 per bag Desiccated Coconut *(can't get Baker's Angel Flake) Rp 50,000 per lb. Refried Beans * Rp 60,000 per can Unsweetened Baking Chocolate * Rp 50,000 per bar Cocoa Powder * Rp 50,000 per lb. Flour or Corn Tortillas * Rp 40,000 per dozen Pita Bread * Rp 40,000 per dozen Tortilla Chips, our own brand * Rp 50,000 per bag Sweet Potato Chips, our own brand * Rp 50,000 per bag Upper Crust Mayonnaise * Rp 40,000 per pint Our Own Salad Dressings * Rp 40,000 per pint Vinaigrette * Honey Mustard * Ranch

Oscar Mayer All-Beef Hot Dogs Package of 8 * Rp 70,000 Add 8 hot dog buns for a total of Rp 95,000

Oscar Mayer Bacon 1-lb. package * Rp 70,000

Texan-Made Pork Breakfast Sausage 1-lb. package * Rp 70,000 Add 6 biscuits for Rp 30,000 extra Add 1 pint Country Gravy for Rp 50,000 extra

Deli Meats * Rp 90,000 per lb. Sliced Beef, Sliced Ham, Sliced Smoked Turkey Breast, Sliced Lemon-Herb Chicken Breast Deli Cheese * Rp 90,000 for 8 slices * Cheddar or Swiss

Bread * Rp 15,000 per loaf Country White * Whole Wheat * Sunflower-Oat * Multi Grain * Cinnamon Swirl

English Muffins * Rp 40,000 per dozen ** Dinner Rolls * Rp 40,000 per dozen

Soup * Rp 50,000 per pint Tomato-Basil * Mushroom * Chicken Noodle * Minestrone

Whole Apple Pie * Rp 150,000

Big Chocolate Chip Cookie Cake, with personal message and balloons * Rp 150,000

To order, push Reply, and give your address, phone number, and time you would like delivery. If you don't receive a confirmation e-mail from me, call 765-4476. Sometimes my internet server isn't reliable, and I don't want to miss your order.

Dang! Why didn’t Mary Ann send this note before I left for the states? We could have stuffed our suitcases with food, glorious food instead of the usual clothes, books, toiletries, and vitamins. Just think of the profit I could have made selling prepackaged, processed, sodium and nitrate-filled tasty treats? I would have been rich! RICH!

Fish Spa

About a month ago, Curtis and I visited Kuala Lumpur. It was our first time there. Kuala Lumpur is a strange land—Malaysian mixed with Indian and Chinese. For tourists, two of the most popular areas of the city are the Indian section, where fabrics after fabric shop lines the streets, and China Town. China Town is famous for knock-offs. People go there to find knock-off purses, t-shirts, music, movies, perfume, Tiffany jewelry—and for entertainment. In China Town, the day market is for produce, meat, spices—more like a traditional market. The knock-off market opens at night. It is made up of fabric-sided stalls jabbed full of merchandise, much like those at a street fair or flea market. The hawkers call to us as we pass by, luring us with their “cheap purses” or “genuine leather belts.” Others stop us as we make our way through the narrow passageways enticing us with DVDs and “genuine” Rolex or Omega watches. At the intersections, vendors roast chestnuts. When they aren’t stirring their smoking woks, they peel a chestnut and break it open, offering it up for us to try.

Beyond the stalls, in the buildings lining the street are the permanent businesses—restaurants, some larger clothing and shoe stores, and massage and reflexology parlors. Narrow doorways lead upstairs too, to other businesses without signs. No telling what they sell, but an interesting mix of people, mostly expats, go in and out.

Now one thing Curtis Bennett loves is reflexology. Since living in Jakarta, he has taken to having regular reflexology schedules, along with pedicures. And rumor had it that Kuala Lumpur reflexology is a must. So, after a long, hot shuffle-push-and-weave through the night market, he pulled me back through the stalls to the reflexology parlors.

Each parlor posts a menu of the offerings with length of time and price. I trailed behind while Curtis searched for the best one. A sign reading “Fish Spa” did the trick.

Curtis loves the TV series Ugly Betty. In one of the episodes, Wilhelmina, the beautiful but devious, needs her feet to be seductively soft so she instructs her assistant, Mark, to “get the fish.” Before seeing that episode, we never imagined that a “fish spa” was possible, let alone that we could have such a treatment. We signed up for the full package—a 15 minute fish spa followed by an hour of reflexology.

The spa worker led us into a side room, instructed us to remove our shoes, scrubbed our feet, gave us sandals to wear and led us up to a raised pillow-covered island encircled by tanks filled with tiny fish, no more than finger-length long. We were instructed to sit down and put our feet in the water—but not our hands. Only our feet.

At first nothing happened. Then, as soon as the water stilled, the fish attacked. They swarmed around our feet nibbling, tickling, gobbling our skin. Now, anyone who has ever been swimming and had a fish nibble them knows that it usually, doesn’t really hurt. But it does pinch or tickle and a zillion of these little monsters gobbling at the same time is like feeling ants crawling over you.

I held my feet still and tried to endure the fish tickling. They wouldn’t be nibbling if I didn’t have dead skin on my feet,

would they?... They won’t keep nibbling after the dead stuff is gone will they?... What if they don’t stop… What if they draw blood?... Am I bleeding?

—Jerk the feet out, take breaths, get my nerve back up and plunge them in again… “Hold still, try not to notice as the fish nibble, nibbling….nibbling… too much. And I’d pull my feet out again.

Curtis loved it! And the fish loved him. He must have had loads more tasty dead flesh on his feet that I had on mine, because those fishlets were fighting each other to get at his feet.

And, after a while, I did get used to the feeling. And the idea of tiny fish nibbling off all my dead skin was appealing. I asked the spa owner how often they indulged.

Every night,” he said.

“Do you feed the fish anything else—like regular food?” I asked.

Oh yes,” he assured me. They feed them about 4:00 in the morning so they will be good and hungry when the customers come.

“Can we put our hands in?” I asked. "No, no,” he said, “Your hands are dirty. The fish will die from the oils on your hand.” He went on to explain that before, when they were newly opened, they didn’t wash the customer’s feet first. But the fish died from eating so much oil and lotion and dirty foot stuff. So they bought new fish and now they wash the feet and the fish are fine.

“Do you ever sit in the pools,” I asked. I was imagining having my body exfoliated by these fish.

Curtis poked me. He was thinking I meant without a bathing suit. No telling what the spa owner was thinking, but he said, “Never, never, no.”

These spa fish are grayish with dark heads and they look like some type of carp—their bodies are shaped the same as those plant eating fish we had had in the pond way back when….

After a few days in Kuala Lumpur, we flew to Penang where we met up with our friends, Joy, Michael and Alexander. Curtis and I didn’t tell them about the Fish Spa, but he was on the look out. Curtis checked every reflexology parlor we passed. (No telling what our friends were thinking he was after.) We finally found a Fish Spa Parlor with the tanks right in the window so passersby could watch. That fish nibble session was even better than the first because we knew what to expect, because I had learned to work through the ticklish phase, and especially because we got to watch Alexander the Most Ticklish try to endure.

 I can’t get those dead-skin nibblers out of my mind. Every time I look in the pond that is not my pond anymore, I think about those spa fish. One afternoon, when Rusnati and I were out in the backyard together, I told her about those spa fish—it just slipped out.

She asked me what the fish looked like.

She said back in Cirebon her father raised fish in a pond and when she was little, she would wade in the pond and the fish would nibble on her legs.

I said I would like to fill the pond with those little fish and have them nibble the dead skin off my legs.

She seemed to like the idea, too