Why does love always feel like a lavafield?

Forget eyeball paper-cuts. The real drama started this week--and by drama, I mean a second-degree sunburn and a day of feverish vomiting.
The score is Indonesia 2, Polly 0.

Last weekend, 28 of us rented a bus and drove two hours southeast of Bandung to a region called Garut. Our plan was to climb Mount Papandayan, an active volcano, and visit its hot springs. My conversation--or rather, my translator's conversation--with the hotel in Garut had made me a little nervous: "You're Americans? Oh, you don't want to stay at this hotel. Let me give you the number of a better one." But, looking for the ever-elusive Authentic Indonesian Experience, we opted for the cheapest option and it turned out to be the right choice. There were no bed bugs and even the hole-in-the-ground toilets were almost pleasant, because they were continuously flushed by natural hot springs.






Eric and Brandon demonstrate two different methods for using the infamous Indonesian Toilet.

Needless to say, it's a lot harder on girls than boys.








On Sunday morning, we set out at 8:00 am for the volcano with our somewhat shifty guide, Bobby. The hike began on a steep road lined with houses that people popped out of at every minute to yell "Halo!" or "Bule!" (white person). When we realized that it would take at least two hours just to reach the the mountain, we climbed into the back of a pickup truck and rode the rest of the way to the base. The volcano was breathtaking; figuratively (it was gorgeous) and literally (walking through the sulfurous smoke made us cough and choke so much that we made makeshift gas-masks out of our clothes).

The volcanic part of the hike begins.

Me suffocating next to one of the vents.

The last time Mount Papandayan exploded was in 2002--it flattened an entire parking lot (but no one died).

We hummed the Lord of the Rings soundtrack as we hiked because it looked so Mordor-esque.

What's a hike without a swim? We swam in this freezing lake at the top of the volcano; the water tasted sour and dry, like vinegar.

The volcano-side weekend was wonderful, and I brought back only one, unforgettable souvenir: a deep red sunburn that erupted into blisters across my shoulders--the kind of burn that gives you chills. Since then, it's evolved into something halfway between leprosy and molting snakeskin. (Don't worry--no photos will be shown.) My first lesson in living in an equatorial climate: sunscreen, sunscreen, sunscreen.

My other lessons have been in the classroom: a group of Indonesian Ibus (older women) teach us Bahasa Indonesia and pedagogy. Our days are divided into halves: three hours learning Indonesian and three hours learning how to teach English. The Indonesian classes are fun, light-hearted and interesting; we've learned a lullaby and how Indonesians dance (feet planted together, elbows at your sides, two thumbs up) and lots of basic how-to-introduce-yourself-and-ask-for-a-cup-of-coffee type phrases. The language's simplicity makes it charming. For instance, there is only one verb tense; words like "already," "right now" and "not yet" clarify whether something is past, present or future. Three of my favorite things we've learned:

1. The word for charcoal is abu. The word for gray is abu-abu.
2. The world bebek means both duck (the animal) and bleat (the sound a goat makes).
3. The way to say "I am single" (Saya belum menikah) does not translate literally to "I am not married"--it translates to "I am not yet married."

Alison, Jolie and Eric perform a skit while Ibu Vita observes.

Ibus Lily, Grace, Fifine and Vita lead us in an Indonesian pop song.

Classes on how to teach have been a little less interesting; there's been a lot of brainstorming and writing lists on poster paper and listening to everyone give their opinions on anything (including, but not limited to, whether it's of utmost importance that English teachers should raise their inflection at the end of their sentences or lower it). Things picked up speed today when we "solo-taught" for the first time: Each ETA planned a 10-minute lesson focused on communicative English--and all the lessons I observed were outstanding. Taking the lead in the classroom for the first time made me remember why teaching feels somehow both exhilarating and totally natural.

"Natural" is also probably a good word to describe my first bout of welcome-to-Indonesia sickness--it was bound to happen sooner or later. Earlier during orientation, two Indonesian doctors led medical question-and-answer sessions, and they made it clear that digestion problems are an inevitable part of moving to Indonesia. The ETAs have been succumbing one by one, some to just an afternoon of intestinal gurgling, some to several days of nausea and diarrhea. But I believe I have the dubious honor of being the first ETA to present with puking and a fever.

Flattened and miserable in my bed, I discovered just how great my new friends are. They brought me crackers, Sprite and flowers; they rubbed my back and wet a washcloth for my forehead; they sang my favorite song and told me funny stories about their days. Not to get too cheesy, but if we can all give each other as much support and love over the next eight months as I felt that day, Indonesia will present no challenge we can't face.

Oh, and my episode also gave Ibu Fifine an excuse for teaching me an incomparably cool Indonesian insult that made the whole thing worthwhile: Saya mau muntah lihat wajahmu. "When I see your face, I want to throw up."