Babies, Barack and Sepak Bola

Our last days in Jakarta were spent enjoying some global universals: soccer--or sepak bola--and Barack Obama. One of the ETAs, a perpetually energetic guy named Brian, found an indoor soccer arena near our hotel and organized a mini-soccer tournament for all 44 of us. The idea so thrilled AMINEF that they offered to pay for our one-hour session. We played six 10-minute games--and sweat more than I think anyone has since the Wicked Witch of the West melted into a puddle. It was a blast.

Sweaty victors after the games.

For your viewing pleasure: a 20-second clip from one of the soccer games in which I am--surprise!--smacked in the face with the ball.





Indonesia's most famous American expat, President Obama, lived in Jakarta from ages six to ten. On Friday, six of us set out--with an Obama-Biden yard sign from my collection of campaign gear in hand--to find the elementary school he attended. The taxi drivers weren't exactly sure where the school was, but when I pointed to it on a Lonely Planet map, they said, "Oh, Obama, Obama!" In front of the school, there's a bronze statue of 10 year-old Barry holding a butterfly that says "The future belongs to those who believe in the power of their dreams." (Kind of depressingly, the statue actually had to be moved to the school from a public park due to controversy.)

We left Jakarta on Friday afternoon, which I think most of us were happy about. The city was too chaotic and dirty to feel like home and our Fulbright sessions were mostly bureaucratic or logistical. Part two of our training--three weeks of training in how to speak Bahasa Indonesia and how to teach English--is taking place in Bandung, a Javanese city in the mountains that is much cooler than Jakarta, in both senses of the word. The ride to Bandung was breathtaking; congested city streets gave way to rice paddies and green hills.

We arrived at the Sheraton Hotel in Bandung to glasses of cold lemonade, moist towels for freshening up and what I have to assume was some kind of welcome dance performed by three Indonesian women. This hotel's luxuriousness is a little unsettling; along with balconies and king-size beds, we each get two free pieces of laundry done every day and our own personal French-press coffee makers. And of course there's a gym, an elaborate breakfast buffet, pools and a hot tub, and the Jakarta Post delivered to our rooms every morning.

The hotel courtyard.

Supposedly, all this pampering can be traced back to a State Department rule that forbids us from staying in cheap hotels. It wasn't what any of us were expecting and frankly, seems a little contrary to the entire Fulbright concept. But I just keep reminding myself that in a few weeks, I'll be alone in a one-bedroom apartment in a tiny rural town with only mice and mosquitoes for company, so I'll enjoy the luxury while I can.

And how did we cope with the excessive wealth on our first night in Bandung? About fifteen of us gathered in my room, in the gorgeous batik robes that the hotel provided, to indulge in the pure, unadorned awesomeness that is Babies.

Kelsey, Brandon and I jump for joy.

Coming soon: our weekend on a volcano and first lessons on Bahasa Indonesia and pedagogy.