Pollyphemus, Indo's Own Cyclops

Have you ever given yourself a paper cut in the eyeball? Have you ever given yourself a paper cut in the eyeball during a Fulbright administrative session led by a US Department of State official?

I have.

The official, who was sitting on a stage in front of all 44 ETAs, announced that one person hadn't turned in an important form yet and they needed it immediately. Everyone turned around in their seats, looking for the delinquent ETA, who I suddenly realized was me. Trying to play off my forgetfulness nonchalantly and with an elegant wit, I picked up my form and waved it above my head. Except I didn't raise my arm quite high enough. The next second, I was clutching my eye, laughing and crying, while the rest of the room stared at me in confusion.

Eight hours later, the eyesight in my right eye is still blurry. And I'm starting to wonder if my Fulbright health care covers corneal transplants.


My first two days as an ETA-in-training have been (impaired vision aside) fantastic--interesting, challenging and unexpectedly fun. The flights from the US had the energy and warmth of a family reunion; at each airport, a new group of 20-somethings carrying backpacks and Lonely Planet guides to Indonesia appeared, saying "Hey, I think we're with you!", until by our last flight, almost all 44 of us were together. Along with sharing our near complete ignorance about what we were getting ourselves into, we shared our back stories. For instance:


Nicole, who isn't fazed by non-Western toilets (i.e. holes in the ground) because she lived in Ecuador for a year...


Jack, who took a semester off from school to work for the Obama Campaign during                                                                       the primaries...       





Leif, whose parents named him
and his three siblings--Jason,
Noah and Ariel--after famous
sea-faring figures (can you identify
them?).



AMINEF (the American Indonesian Exchange Foundation) transported us from the Jakarta airport to our lovely 4-star hotel, where the first week of orientation is taking place. I have my own suite, with a bedroom, kitchen and balcony, and an overwhelming view of smog-smothered Jakarta.

The last two days have been filled with information sessions led by various officials in the American and Indonesian governments, as well as former ETAs and ELFs (English Language Fellows). Some of it is dull, some of it is morbidly funny (Paul from the American Consulate said, "Hopefully you won't require any of our mortuary services. But you should know that we do offer them."), most of it is fascinating. I learned how to protect my passport (Ziploc bag), how to deal with dengue fever (sweat it out), which Indonesian dictionary is best (John Echols'), who to report overnight visitors to (the neighborhood warden), when to expect four weeks of vacation from school (December), what "realia" in the classroom is (concrete everyday objects that help teach a lesson)...

And then there's been the more hands-on learning. Venturing into Jakarta to find a computer adapter or even just a cafe is an adventure. My mud-encrusted legs can attest to Jakarta's filthiness--as Lonely Planet says, it's a city that's difficult to like. I was expecting people on the streets to be pushy, but they're unaggressively friendly and seem to get a kick out of calling out "Selamat sore" (good afternoon) in response our hellos. The taxi driver with tiny soccer balls hanging from his rear-view mirror laughed when I started singing Wavin' Flag, and then taught me how to say "I like soccer" ("Saya suka sepakbola"). The people are not difficult to like.

Arriving at the train station on a bicycle-taxi in the rain.

Jakarta's historic district, which is pretty in a peeling, unaffected way.

ETAs Abbey and JT dash across a deathly busy Jakarta road.

More adventures to come soon...