Honoring Lucky the Goldfish

Lucky the Goldfish passed away last week. He was a dear friend and companion to my editor Sarah and her partner, Lori. (I think, if I remember correctly, Lucky was actually one of those carnival goldfish Sarah won at a fair, hence his name.) For more than 9 years Lucky had flapped and fluttered around in his bowl, blowing bubbles, gobbling nibbles, making sure that Sarah and Lori never came home to an empty house. And, in his quiet, fishy way, Lucky was responsible for my story, NOT NORMAN, A Goldfish Story being published. Several years back, say 2002 or earlier, my agent, Erin, heard Sarah speak at a conference. During the Q&A following Sarah’s presentation some one asked the question everyone always asks editors: Is there any story you are looking for? Sarah burst into her Lucky the Goldfish story and how she would love, love to receive a manuscript about a goldfish…

As it so happened, I had goldfish—a pond full of them—and a Goldfish picture book manuscript: Not Norman. The rest, as they say, is history.

People who call themselves “real pet people” i.e. dog, cat, horse, hamster lovers poke fun at us fishy folks. They think the only good pet is one who crawls, climbs or claws. They need the tactile connection those types of pets provide.

We fishy folks are beyond all that. We appreciate fish for what they are and do. A lot of what looks like nothing. Fish swim around in their watery worlds, drifting, floating, bubbling, dreaming fishing dreams while the rest of us drive ourselves and everyone else nuts rushing, rushing, doing, and begging for more.

The only begging Lucky ever did was a meal time. And that wasn’t really begging that was more like a reminder. A hey, remember me while you’re stuffing that cracker into your gullet. How’s about tossing me a treat, too, while you’re at it?

Here’s to Lucky!

Secret Stores...A Good Thing?

Jakarta’s imported food situation has reached CODE RED--CRISIS level. Thanksgiving 2006 was the first time we were personally affected by imported food shortages—canned cranberries and pumpkin, stuffing mix and marshmallows were no where to be found. Everyone American we knew was hunting for them, searching cupboards, sending SMS updates with markets checked, hording was rumored, clandestine trips to Singapore grocery stores planned. Since all the other usual imported goods were available, we chalked that shortage up to a general lack of knowledge about necessary Thanksgiving foods—after all, it is an American holiday.

The next imported food crisis moved into the CODE YELLOW category as it included alcohol thus affecting the entire Ex-pat community. Word was it was due to Muslim Indonesia’s aversion to alcoholic beverages—or someone didn’t pay off the right customs people.

The crisis after that followed the Melamine scare and met with a sympathetic CODE GOOD. Sure we were all irritated by the unavailability of our favorite comfort foods, including mayonnaise, salad dressing, cheese, cereal—specifically bran cereals (those of a certain age worry about regularity), and pickles, but we appreciated the Indonesian governments quick reaction to the Melamine scare and their efforts to protect us from possible harm. (That scare, you might recall, prompted the great Pickle Making Experiment of January 2009. For more than you want to read on that see the blog posting Jan. 7: “Pickled.”)

Government Line has it that the current food shortage is because certain…most… seemingly all of the usual imported foods do not meet the rigid labeling requirements for imports. This stuck me as funny since I didn’t know Indonesia had labeling requirements at all.

This current food crisis, which has already lasted 6 or more months— with no end in sight— is forcing Expats in need to take action. Visitors are being sent shopping lists with items they must hide in their luggage before relatives will welcome them into Jakarta. Back in the day, as the old-timers tell it, bringing back coolers stuffed with forbidden pork items, including diapers and kiddie food was routine. But that was in the good old days of generous baggage and weight allowances on airplanes. Suitcases are being checked on day-long doctor trips to Singapore so they can be stuffed full for the return flights and…”Secret Stores” are springing up.

This morning my e-mail included a note from one of the most active Secret Stores.” The advert read: OUR "SECRET STORE" HAS LIMITED SUPPLIES OF THINGS YOU MAY BE LOOKING FOR! Order NOW while supplies last!

The note went on to list “necessary” items available including:

• Downey Fabric Softener, 40 sheets Rp 45,000; 90 sheets 90,000
• Texas Pork Breakfast Sausage, RP 70,000 per pound
• Oscar Meyer Bacon, 1 pound, Rp 70,000
• Oscar Meyer Hot Dogs, 8 pack, Rp 70,000
• 8 Hot Dog buns (no brand noted—don’t hot dog buns usually come in packs of 10?)
• Velveeta Cheese-ish product, 8 oz; Red Cheddar Block, 8 oz; Rp 40,000
• Imported Cream Cheese, 8 oz, Rp 50,000
• Gold Medal Flour, 5-lb. Rp 60,000, 2-lb. Rp 30,000
• Whole Wheat Flour, Rp 40,000 per kg
• Imported Pure Cane Sugar, best for baking! Rp 60,000 per lb.
• Powdered Sugar, for icings! Rp 60,000 per lb.
• Brown Sugar, Rp 60,000 per lb.
• Chocolate Chips, Rp 50,000 per 12-oz. bag
• Vanilla Extract, Rp 40,000 per 100-gram bottle
• Desiccated Coconut, Rp 50,000 per lb.
• Baker's Angel Flake Coconu, Rp 70,000 per lb.
• Cocoa Powder, Rp 50,000 per lb.
• PAM Non-Stick Cooking Spra, Rp 90,000 per can

What interested me about these "secret stores" (aside from the exorbitant price one pays for contraband) is this: with the exception of PAM Non-Stick Cooking Spray, local substitute are readily available for each of them—including bacon, sausage, and hot dogs for which beef and chicken versions abound. Sure the flavor, texture, and bakeablity is different, sometimes odd—for instance, local flour is much finer and fluffier than good-ole Gold Medal so more is needed to make cookies puff-up; and in the case of the chocolate chip substitute, a baker has to smash up Cadbury bars thus creating chunks instead of tidy chips. If, however, one is truly desperate, the local products work

What really made me stop and think was the cost of these items. Sure, if one really, really, really needs Hellman’s Mayonnaise, as I do, even though a local version and Curtis’s fav, Miracle Whip (gag) are sold, then one will do just about anything including pay through the nose, break laws…break legs and backs, to get them. But seriously, Downey Softener Sheets???

One thing Indonesia does have, which rivals or surpasses any available anywhere, is fresh, fresh, fresh, fruit and vegetables, eggs, fish and chicken—and so cheap. So I ask myself and you, whether shopping in a “Secret Store,” smuggling, or cruising Wal-Mart or Whole Food aisles: Beyond the cost in terms of money or freedom, what is the cost of these items in terms of our health?

P.S. The spellchecker in Microsoft Word has Hellman’s, Velveeta, and Wal-Mart pre-loaded in the dictionary. Go figure...

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…