Does This Car Come with a Floation Device?

 

Pulling out of a mall parking garage after lunch, we came face to face with RAINY SEASON.

 

Just when I thought we'd made it home unscathed, we turned down our street to find this blocking our path:

Wind knocked down trees and braches around our neighborhood and three of the four streets that lead to our house were blocked by debris. But we finally found a way in. Fortunately, we live next door to a police station and the chainsaws were hot as soon as the rain stopped.

Guest Blog: 90 Minutes in Heaven

 
Two Years Up Front is pleased to share our first guest blog post! John's parents have been here for a week and have let us drag them all over the city in search of a good time. Here, John's mom Chris recounts her experience at the spa down the street from our house.

Today I experienced one of the wonders of the world--a 90-minute foot and leg massage at a Jakarta spa. It began with a foot bath in warm, lime-scented water. A tiny Indonesian man washed my feet and then let them soak while he massaged my neck and back. After drying my feet he led me to a dark room with giant lounge chairs. John and I relaxed side by side while they reclined our chairs. We were each outfitted with a neck pillow, which mostly served as a vehicle for a trio of hot stones.

Here the ecstasy began. My lower legs were thoroughly worked over followed by the careful massaging of my feet. Each toe was tenderly stroked and rubbed before moving to the mid foot. Finally the heel was lovingly manipulated until it cried "uncle." Now it was time for the hand and arm massage. John's snoring was somewhat disruptive so they served ginger tea to wake him while they re-massaged our neck and back. At this point we were both glowing. What a way to spend your afternoon. We couldn't wait to get out to the desk to book tomorrow's treatment. I have a whole new respect for Indonesia.

The best part is this 90 minutes of pleasure cost $9.75 … each. No tipping please! I think I will stay in this paradise!

Happy Thanksgiving!

Happy Thanksgiving 2014!

Wishing everyone a very Happy Thanksgiving. Here are some shots from our celebration, which was made special by the visit of some very dear people: Miles' grandparents!

Thanks for coming all the way to see us Mimi and Poppy and for breaking in our guest room!

Our Meal: We feasted on Indonesian-Chinese fusion including: prawn and chicken  dumplings, coconut-honey prawns, chicken satay, sauteed morning glory with garlic, and sweet tamarind sirloin.  

 

And for dessert we had deep-fried banana with butterscotch sauce, apple spring roll with vanilla ice cream, and some beverage that involved fresh coconut, passion fruit and unidentifiable green jelly things that were the consistency of Swedish Fish. I failed to photograph it, which is a shame, because it was a site.

 

Miles enjoyed mango-carrot puree and nine ounces of milk.

 



Road Champ

Oh Jakarta...sweet land of the traffic jam. We can't have a blog about living here without at least one post on the traffic situation. But how to convey just what it's like to live in a city that adds roughly 1,100 new vehicles to its road per day? (Yes, PER DAY.) How does it feel to be surrounded by 5.5 million motorized vehicles?

[Note: these are conveniently staggering numbers that I found following a google search for "how many vehicles are in Jakarta". I have no idea if they are accurate. If we go on "feel" alone, I'd say they are conservative but that's because - at certain times during the day - stepping outside kind of feels like french kissing an exhaust pipe.]

Traffic anecdotes aren't going to suffice. If you want an authentic Jakartan traffic experience without physically coming here, we need something else. So, I give you the "driving-in-Jakarta Simulator"! Get your driving gloves on! Simulation begins in 3....2......1

Seatbelts on. Remember how to drive a manual? Good - now just reverse everything you remember about your hand-foot coordination so that you are shifting with your left instead of your right. And don't forget, you drive on the left-hand side in these parts. There is zero tolerance for forgetting that rule so opt to remember it. Driver should always be closest to the median. No problem, right? (Talk to me after your first right-hand turn). Easy does it into that first intersection. Stop signs don't seem to exist in Jakarta. The four-way rule only sort of applies. It's not exactly first come, first move in a clockwise fashion, it's more just who ever moves first. Moving along, here we go. Time to merge onto the main highway. Don't forget your blinker! No, no, no, that's your windshield wiper...other side, friend. The blinker is on the other side. Whoa! Mind the crazy scooter drivers! I know, I know, they come out of no where with no warning. But if you hit one, it will be your fault because fault lies with whomever can afford the repairs and since you are a foreign passport holder, that means you.

It's rush hour, did you forget? You can't be on this highway unless there are three people in the car. C'mon, it's an honest attempt to reduce traffic congestion during the busiest times of the day. What are you going to do? a) Suck it up and pay the $20 fine (don't be fooled: the cops wait on the entrance ramps and will pull you over), b) turn around and attempt to find another route or c) be a local, pick up two of those people standing on the side of the road waiting for just this purpose and pay them $2 each to be your extra passengers. Remember: moms with babies count as 2!! That's right, the correct answer is C. Whatever you do, do not attempt B. Attempting B will murder the rest of your day and you will likely end up in another city, possibly on another island, altogether.

Ok, so now we have our "professional" passengers earning an honest wage, we are on the main highway in the direction we want to head and so now we .....wait. I know it's only another half mile until your exit, but do you know how long it could be before you get there? Put it this way, you could probably do your taxes and finish with spare time. You won't be getting out of first gear, that's for sure. This, my friends, is why everyone in Jakarta who can afford it has a driver. Because spending hours in the car is a huge waste of time. So, instead, you can do more important things from a passenger seat, like reach level 44 on your phone's version of Super Jewel Quest. I hope you remembered to pack a snack and some water. I hope you remembered to go to the bathroom before you got into this car. I hope you weren't in a hurry.

Note to you: if you are in a hurry, a better option than a car is an "ojek", i.e., the back of a scooter. You can find Ojek drivers on most street corners. You haggle a price, they hand you a helmut that smells like a sleeping bag after a summer at sleep away camp, and away you go. The simulator for the ojek is an entirely different Jakarta traffic experience. Namely, it lacks air conditioning and might involve you losing a kneecap. The brilliance of a scooter is that it fits in places that cars don't. Scooters cut commute time in half. They also make vehicular homicide something car drivers need to be concerned about.

Back to our car and our traffic. You've found a break in the congestion and things are moving at a decent clip. I know it's hard to stay in your lane when, at any given moment, your lane disappears or is divided into two. Never mind that when you were driving on this street yesterday there only seemed to be two lanes of traffic. Today there are four lanes because that is what is needed. Do what I do and just follow the guy in front of you. Oh, crap. You just missed your turn. Yes, yes you did. The street signs here are perpendicular to the streets, not parallel. I know. It doesn't make any flippin sense but it is how it is and now you need to turn around. Don't fret! See that guy standing over there who looks like he's just randomly hanging out in the middle of about six lanes of traffic? Well, he needs a job and so he's created one for himself and if you just lean out the window and hand him 50 cents, he will single-handedly create an opportunity for you to make a U-turn. Go ahead. It's a very empowering experience.

Now that you've got your blinker figured out and your street located, here you are! Just get yourself parked! Given the number of vehicles in this city, it continues to shock me that parking is never an issue. Either there is a garage or another entrepreneural Jakartan ready to find a spot for you. I've even seen front-row "ladies parking" at one mall. There are no meters. No street cleaning. If someone doesn't want you to park in front of a house or business, they just put a concrete-filled pot in the space. It's a very direct way to communicate the rules.

Congratulations! You just made it to Wednesday's infant play group! This is not a small accomplishment! Seriously, the first time I did it I was left feeling like.."man, anything else I get done today is just icing."

Almond Crispy Cheese

Indonesians are no slackers when it comes to souvenir shopping. If you hit the road in this country, you better bring something home to show for it and it better be representative of where you've been. This is so much a custom that this kind of gift has its own name: oleh-oleh. And Indonesians are so serious about their oleh-oleh that airports feature oleh-oleh stands so you don't miss your chance to buy the perfect gift before heading home.

Oleh-Oleh are always location-specific and are usually food-orientated. Given that Indonesians are snack maniacs, they typically represent local snacks (usually fried). Sometimes there are even restaurants near the airport that wrap-up their specialty dishes for plane portability. (Wrap your head around the smell of that if you can).

With that background in mind, allow me to share with you my first oleh-oleh experience.

John returned from two nights in Surabaya this week. Surabaya is the second largest city in Indonesia and the capitol of the province of East Java. It's known for it's hot weather and straight talking people. Before boarding his return flight to Jakarta, John approached one of many oleh-oleh stands and inquired, "what is the most famous oleh-oleh from Surabaya?"

Without hesitation and with an emphatic gesture, he was directed to a box of "Almond Crispy Cheese". (Does it feel like a word is missing from that title? I thought so too.) Almond Crispy Cheese: a most surprising snack to represent any place in Indonesia given that Indonesia produces neither almonds nor cheese. But there it was - clear as day on the box - "Oleh-Oleh Khas Surabaya," followed by a list of all five locations within the city where Almond Crispy Cheese is made.

If you were to hand me an Almond Crispy Cheese and ask me what country it comes from, Indonesia would be the absolute last country that I would pick. No part of it involves a tropical fruit. No part of it is fried or involves noodles or rice. No part of it is covered in chili sauce. Instead, the Almond Crispy Cheese is a delicate biscuit that is neither just sweet nor just salty, but instead a wickedly splendid marriage of the two, with just the right amount of baked-on grated cheese and a flake or two of almond. In all honesty, this is the best damn combination of almond, crisp and cheese I've ever had. I'd eat these things all day. As far as snacks go - check. As far as cheese flavor goes - check, check. As far as sweet-meets-salty - check, check, check.

The discovery of the Almond Crispy Cheese means the world of oleh-oleh has no limitations. It means cheese can be found in this country. Where do we go from here? Well, which part of Indonesia snacks on Parmasean cheese? That's where I want to go next.

What a Steal

Big time at the grocery today. These treasures were on the 50% off table.  $7 Cheetos and $9 Tostitos now available for $3.5 and $4.5, respectively.

It only dawned on us once home to think about why such a big discount. They're six months old.

We've never been so happy for preservatives.

Asia Lite: Part I

Filipino Jeepny

Greetings, from the Philippines!

While John is off bringing this island nation clean water, Miles and I are on something of a field trip. Weeee!

In true tag-along fashion I do no homework to prepare for the trip and know next to nothing about Manila, except it's one "l" not two. We stay in Bonafacio Global City (BGC), one of several newish developments in the capital city. When I say "development", what I mean is "an actual city". I count twelve high rises under construction within eye shot of our hotel. Manila is booming.



Bonafacio Global City

In BGC everything feels new and - I quickly realize - oddly familiar. It turns out Filipinos have an affinity for the United States and all things American, the legacy of a brief stint as a U.S. territory following the Spanish-American war. It's not just their crisp English (which is heaven-sent after two months spending most of my mental capacity struggling to be understood in Indonesian). I stop on a street corner and realize I'm standing between Old Navy and IHOP. It's like Tampa here, with sky scrapers. The roads are laid out in a grid. There are functioning crosswalks. The locals LOVE basketball. Bacon appears on every menu. A bar's chalk board reads: "Alcohol does not make you Fat! It makes you Lean...against tables, chairs, floors, walls & ugly people." Nope. We are most certainly not in Jakarta any more.

Asia-lite. That's how John describes it. I'm a little surprised to find myself very, very excited about all of this. Was I homesick and didn't know it? Armed with some local currency, the first thing I buy is a bag of Cheetos.

But Manila really endears itself to me when - after purchasing a local SIM card at a little telecom store - the lady clerk says to me, "I like your nose, ma'am". Oh, where were you when I was 14!

Of course, not all of Manila looks like BGC and not all of the Philippines looks like South Florida. This is a country, afterall, that televises cock fighting.

I'm determined to emerge from the Americana bubble and see some of the city. But Manila is massive and I'm dealing with the attention span of a five-month old. Where to start? I let my priority-compass guide us, which is how we end up in Marikina City, Manila's shoe district.



Shoe Museum

We search out the Marikina Shoe Museum because I think it's important to Miles' development to see Imelda Marcos' shoe collection. About 800 of her 3,000 pairs are in the museum. It's a tiny place; you can see the entire collection in about 10 minutes, especially since the majority consists of duplicates of the exact same pair in every color. I count about 40 pairs of house slippers...in blue. But the museum also has shoes donated from various politicians, even a ballerina. It's kind of adorable.

We find a little cafe. I order a giant plate of deliciousness. I admire Manila's wide array of motorized transportation options, most of which I won't experience because that would make me an irresponsible parent.



Single serving

There are amazingly colorful buses called Jeepnys, classic American Jeeps extended like limousines and painted like they were featured on MTV's Pimp My Ride. And there are "tricycles", or motorcycles with steel side cars for 2-4 people. Based on the clearance of the side car roofs, they are decidedly not meant for tall people.

Miles and I call Edmund, the taxi driver who brought us to the museum. He is sweet to Miles but is surprised that I only have one child. He lets me know he has five. I feel my uterus cry a little. But Edmund is lovely and shows me a name painted on his cab comprised of letters from the names of his kids. Also adorable.

Our trip to Marikina is our only cultural excursion for the week. I spend the remainder of my time in Manila popping into Lush because I've forgotten face wash and buying John a new moleskin notebook at the giant bookstore that looks just like a Barnes and Noble. Oh, and I stock up on Ziplocks, because a box costs $10.99 in Jakarta.