Wildlife viewing

I’ve more or less settled into a routine on my work days, and it’s fairly boring. It makes sense, because I’m a fairly boring person.

So far, I’m sticking with my little workout routine and I’m pretty proud of myself. I mean, I don’t exactly have legs of steel or anything, but I’ve done it.

The fitness room is pretty small and hot. It has two ACs in it, but I can’t figure out how to turn them on. My own has a little red light if it has power, and this one doesn’t, although the remote turns on and off. So my guess is maybe they only kick in the power during the afternoons when it’s *really* hot.

Should it concern me at all that every once in a while, as I’m jogging, all of a sudden the LED screen goes red and says “No Heartbeat Detected”? It’s happened to me several times. I promise, I’ve been alive every one of them, but it’s a little unsettling.

Actually, it’s a lot unsettling. But I digress. Again.

My view for the first 20 minutes is of a blank wall, and the last 10 it’s the brick wall, since I start with jogging and finish with biking.

The blank wall is when I’m most thankful for the MP3, because I have to crane my neck to see anything. If I wrench around to the right, I can see the occasional helicopter on the hospital landing pad.

Down below, I see motorcycles here and there, or someone dumping trash. When it rains – which is often, despite the fact we’re heading into the dry season – I watch the palm leaves bob up and down.

Really exciting, I know.

But once in a while, the brick wall gives me a show. The first day I was doing the joggy thing, I caught a shadowy glimpse and assumed it was a mouse. But later, I realized I’d spotted a lizard and have seen several more since then.

Yesterday, though, was a treat. Beyond the lizards, which are my regulars, something furry caught my eye.

Crawling up on the water drain, I saw this muskrat/ferret-looking thing. Furry and long, with a triangular face and a hairy tail.

At first, I thought it was a ferret, since I’d sold them way back when at the House of Pets. But I don’t think ferrets are indigenous here. I still don’t know what it was, because I was trying to convince myself it was a rat.

But rats have naked tails, I kept telling myself. And, as if on cue, a rat came out and circled the trash can down below.

It was considerably larger than the other rat I’d seen – the previous day, on my walk to work – and definitely not the same as the varmint that crawled up on the drainage thing.

So that’s my wildlife viewing this week. I live in a city; it’s not overrun with Komodo dragons (although cartoons of such, Modo and Modi, were released as being the mascots of the SEA Games, to be held here in November).

In other news, there’s not a lot of other news. My Embassy visit got postponed until Wednesday because I had to get a new temporary visa first. My new passport *probably* would have arrived in time, but you don’t take chances like that in other countries. Especially countries whose rat population rivals Boston’s.

I'm really upset hearing about the explosion in the Marakech cafe. I do have to say that it relieves me that I'm not responsible for the care and feeding of teenagers there, though. It makes me glad I didn't get that job permanently, but I really appreciated the opportunity to go back and spend a month.

Things you have to learn

Finally my Internet arrived!

I’m so relieved to be able to log in from home. The cable crew hooked up my TV and Internet late Saturday evening, so I’ve been basking in the glory that is on-demand Internet.

And catching up with season four of “Mad Men.” Man, surfthechannel is awesome.

I guess I’ve been in the building for about a week now, and it’s not too bad. The Internet definitely helps me pass the time productively.

There are still some things I need to figure out, such as what the “service” part of the apartment is supposed to be. From what I was told, room 8-09 is supposed to be cleaned three times a week but I haven’t seen any evidence.

I can live without that, but I really need to figure out where to find a trash can. I figure I’m walking out of here today with a bag of garbage and someone will point me in the right direction. I just hope I understand the instructions.

I am learning, though. Today’s lesson was that the middle of the pool is in plain view of what appears to be a middle school. It’s wise if I do not swim in the middle of the pool mid-morning. I could hear little boy clamoring, so when I was done I took great pains to walk along the wall so they couldn’t see me.

Yeah, the cultural differences are there. I’m pretty sure most of those kids had never seen legs that weren’t mom’s, and mine had to have been the biggest pasty white ones they’ve ever seen. They won’t be getting that shot again.

Three days in, I’m still on my little workout routine, and I hope I can stick with it. There’s not much, but I do jogging on some elliptical thing, then various arm stuff and I finish on the bike.

Hopefully, I can get a daily routine going, but I’m still working on that.

My next day off is Friday – we’re always off Saturday but the other day off skips around – and I might wind up going to the Embassy.

I’ve hit a stumbling block in my attempt to get a work visa. My passport expires in December, and apparently I need six months beyond the visa’s expiration in order to get one. Therefore, I have to renew it.

I have to make an appointment at the Embassy in order to get it done, and I haven’t been able to get them on the phone. For me, the phones are a challenge. Heck, everything is a challenge.

Anyway, there’s some issue of whether or not I need my birth certificate in order to renew a passport while overseas, and I need that answered, but again, I have to get the Embassy on the phone first.

Hopefully I can get through today and possibly get in Friday.

Other than that, I have absolutely no idea of how I will spend my first two days off in a row. It’s early for me to leave town, plus there’s the issue of it’s not yet payday.

But I’ll figure something out.

Still No Internet

I am utterly bored out of my mind. My Internet, as expected, didn’t appear on the national holiday, which was Friday and I honestly don’t have high expectations for Saturday and Sunday, either. Especially since Sunday is a holiday, too.

So I’m having to go into the office and check email and that sort of thing, which at least gives me something to do. I’m going stir crazy here.Here's my building from the street. I am in the tower on the left, 8th floor.

It’s another difference between PC and expat-ness. In the former, you’re expected to integrate and given the tools to get you started: you have a local counterpart, a host family and study the language.

Here, you’re on your own completely and you have to fumble through things on your own with only the slightest degree of help.

Everything’s trial and error, and that will eventually settle down. But man, in the meantime, it’s a bitch.

This is my pool, complete with a reminder of where I am.

What is nice, though, is my pool. The water’s a tad cool, but I took a dip this morning. Although there had been some curtain climbers there earlier, when I went I had it all to myself.

It’s situated between the two apartment buildings and is pretty nice. Well, what do I know about pools but I liked it.

It was a great cool-down after spending time in the little gym this morning. I feel kind of stupid getting on the joggy elliptical thingie because I pretty much walk all the time, but it went all right. One of the arm things wasn’t working but I did the rest of the stuff, including the bicycle.

Apparently the Incredible Hulk came in before me because all the machines were set to the highest levels. I was on level three, and they were all set to 12 or so.

And again, I had it all to myself, which was nice. I had my MP3 and was listening to Amy Grant

I’m still unclear as to what comes with this building. Most of the middle-class and up apartments are serviced, which means someone comes through and cleans, emptying the trash and doing the floors and all that. But I’ve now been here for something like four nights and I’ve yet to have someone come through. Plus, when they were installing the water dispenser, I had to leave my key for them, so I don’t know how they’d get in if I wasn’t here.

I’m still trying to furnish the house. Today’s errand (today being Saturday; I’m not so sure when I will be able to post this) is to get food. So far, I’ve bought minimal food and have been stocking up on the permanent stuff, like the frying pan I got yesterday.

Now it’s time to put that stuff in action, however modestly that action is. The initial grocery costs are steep, because you have to do those one-in-awhile expensive things like oil, but I’m definitely ready to cook something that’s not rice or macaroniPool rules. I especially like No. 4: Children Must be in control of adults

Next week is a pay week, which is cool because I should get some idea of how this works. It’s my understanding that they can deposit my check into my Florida credit union or just give me cash. Eventually I will get a bank account here, I guess, but in the meantime I have to do something. My ATM card works fine so I’d almost like to just skip the local bank (especially if I am only here six months, which is the length of my initial contract) but as I understand it the fees are exorbitant.

In order to get a bank account here, I have to have my work visa processed. That entails a one-day trip to Singapore, but before I get that done I have to have my passport renewed. I’d asked about this before coming over but didn’t get an answer, but apparently my passport, which expires in December, needs to be renewed because I have to have six months on it past the work visa expiration.

So that’s a fun obstacle. I have yet to determine if I need my birth certificate to get my passport renewed overseas (I’ve had people tell me yes) or if I can just go to the embassy and do it. I’ve tried to call the embassy a number of times but haven’t gotten an answer yet. (Literally – the phone keeps giving me a busy signal.) And I can’t just swing by because I’m supposed to have an appointment.

My next day off is Friday, so I hope that I can get it done then.

Again, I’d just love to find the fast-forward button and put me at about May 11.

More of the Interior

Take a good last look at the short-sleeved shirts in the foreground, because I selected them to dump them here. The Laramie River Ranch one will make the trip home, too. As far as the seven pairs of pants are concerned, I hope the three Columbia pants survive, but other than that, I’m good. I also brought four pairs of shoes, with just the Chacos intended for the last leg.

I didn’t bring many clothes, and this is pretty much the rest of my shirts. Again, the point was (besides, well, not owning much in the first place) was to just wear the stuff out and leave it here.
But I’m not coming back empty-handed. As it turns out, I *love* the Indonesian print shirts. – batik – and hope to get a closetful soon. I just hope I can find some in my size.
My little desk, with Levis in the forefront. (No, I am not a slob. I hung them there before I bought the hangers and plan on wearing them tomorrow.) My view is a little Bartelby-like, but it’s not really that bad. For air circulatory purpose, my laptop sits atop my Indonesia travel book. I thought I did a good thing by getting one that encompasses the entire country, since I hope to travel some, but as it turns out, the entire Jakarta section is something like six pages long, starting off with something like “you won’t want to spend much time here.” Great.


With the addition of my MP3 player, this is my entire entertainment and reading paraphernalia. I should have gotten a Kindle.
Inchallah my Internet will be hooked up soon and I’ll have something that way, but if not I am likely to cave and pay for cable. My 32-inch LG TV only delivers Indonesian channels right now.

Everyone who visits peeks into the medicine cabinet, so I thought I’d make it easy. Here’s one side of the cabinet. The other’s too feminine for male readers. There’s also a bottom shelf, crammed with toothpaste, dental floss and hair things.
I was concerned about the availability of toiletries and brought a six-month supply with me. As it turns out, I didn’t need to worry (or lug the crap) because this city has absolutely everything I could ever want. Including Benadryl and Band-Aids.
No Walmart generics here, but there’s one in the photo. Can you find it? (Click to enlarge and therefore snoop further.)
Also, bonus points for finding all of the stuff I took from the hotel. I look like I’m having a sale.
Water’s the stuff out of the tap. Expats don’t drink that. We drink Agua or this stuff, Oxam. It’s “water with extra oxygen.” I didn’t know oxygen was such a draw, but I guess if it had extra hydrogen, it would be hydrogen peroxide.
My dishes, chosen by a man. The little kitchen, which lines the “hallway” as you enter the studio dwelling, is tiled in earth tones. So of course country blue is fitting.
This handy rack appears above the sink, hidden behind – for some reason – a pop-up door, like a hatchback.
Ah, the many uses of mika! In Morocco, PCVs used the handy bags for all sorts of things, not the least was for stuffing trash or sealing Buta gas containers. Here, I’ve demonstrated a new use: PCV-quality shelf paper. Unlike mine Morocco, my Jakarta kitchen has shelves and I can hide my utensils. Right now, my collection consists of the big wooden spoon, three forks, knives and spoons (I have no idea why they come in threes, maybe the bad-luck-four thing again) and a little paring knife.
Like any good Moroccan, the first thing I made with my newly purchased sauce pan (bishaa!) was tea. The saucepan was the highest quality I could afford and it only came in red. I didn’t bring enough money with me to get the frying pan and Dutch oven, but they’re coming soon.

Later, I’ll get some outside shots. Either my Energizer rechargeables are crap or my year-old Canon sucks battery power faster than any other camera I’ve ever had. I charge the batteries and after about three shots the battery light blinks. I take them out and rub their tips together and get maybe 10 more but then they die.

So baby steps.

The Year of Living Dangerously

Remember this Mel Gibson/Sigourney Weaver film? It came on one of my many HBO channels this morning: I had no memory it was set in Jakarta. I only saw that part and will have to try to catch it when it comes on again. Which I’m sure it will.

It’s my first two hours in my little apartment, where right now I can hear the Call to Prayer. It’s a bit more high tech than in Midelt. I guess it annoys some people but it makes me feel like I’m at home. (Which I need to remember in the case of the sleeping-hours calls.)

I’d been mentally composing the start of this post since I arrived. After all, it’s my new digs and I should be in this place at least three months. Yes, it’s just a glorified hotel room, but it’s my glorified hotel room.

When I first started, the tone was a bit different. Yesterday, I couldn’t move in because they had yet to bring the microwave, water, Buta (which they don’t call Buta but think it’s hysterically funny I do, because they think I’m saying “Budda.”). There are two lights that don’t work, the floors need to be clean and the AC remote wasn’t in the room.

Now, I can work around almost anything, but that AC remote is worth its weight in gold. It’s Morocco hot here, but it’s also Tallahassee muggy. There are no ceiling fans and basically I was lying on the bed half naked and cursing myself for being suckered into neutral colors and taking this apartment.

Then, Pak Erwin showed up, and all was better. Sure, the promise of water, a microwave, dishes, Buta and light bulbs – as well as cable and the Internet -- are in the future sometime. But I didn’t hear much he said (not that I would have understood it) because I focused in on the little telikomand he had in his hand: the AC remote. Handullah!

ACs are room-to-room and mounted on the ceilings here, and they’re hard to access by hand. (I know this firsthand from today. I couldn’t find any controls as I balanced precariously on a stool that wasn’t meant for standing.) It’s not like you walk over to the wall and hit “on.” You have to have one of these treasures to suck out the humidity from the air.

So I’m far happier now than I was two hours ago.


**Updated**

So I’m in the apartment with air, hamdullah, water and Buta (ha ha) but no microwave or pots and pans, which has been a stumbling block.

Taking the promise of getting a microwave last evening seriously, I went to the market and bought something I could eat cooked in it and with no utensils, since Erwin said nothing about bringing dishes.

But upon arrival, I had a water dispenser – no water --- and that was it. After a shower and the downing of a tiny donut I’ve taken from the hotel breakfast (the only food I’d had since then except a Jell-0-like package marked “chocolate pudding”), Erwin came with dishes, Buta and a dishtowel.

No microwave. And no pots and pans. So no real dinner and no breakfast.

This morning, I set out to try to find pots and pans and grab something to eat. I’ve been moderately successful, locating a nearby Dunkin Donuts (Boston Crème and Chocolate Mint, yay!).

It’s now the heat of the day and I’m back in the room watching “King of the Hill.” I haven’t yet figured out how to order the English-speaking TV, so I essentially don’t have one right now.

In a few, I’m going to head back to the office, where I should be able to post this and check my emails. My chance to log on is going to be really slim until I get Internet in the apartment, and since tomorrow is a holiday it could take awhile.

I’ll try to make it worth the wait.

Moving Out. Eventually.

So I’ve found an apartment, but it’s never easy.

I’ve decided to go with the cheaper option and I’ve tested the walk to make sure it’s doable. Now I have to get with the landlord, who’s not the same as the owner, and pay the deposit and three (not two, as I originally thought) months rent.

This poses a hassle more than a problem, but it’s still annoying. I brought $1800 US over and fortunately was able to exchange all of it, but it’s still short. So I had to hit the ATM, which fortunately worked on the second machine I tried.

Equivalent to about $2k, this pile of flus/dinero/cash represents a deposit and three months rent.

As a result, I have a literal pile of money, as you can see. This afternoon, I hope to meet with the landlord and leave it, but as far as I know it’s not ready now. Something about a door being repaired.

A girl at the office, Ratna, has been a fabulous help in getting this nailed down. The contract, which the landlord faxed to her, is in Indonesian and she translated it for me and she’s going there with me sometime this afternoon to hand over the money and sign the lease.

Taken from the fake 55th floor, this photo shows the start of my commute. Well, I guess actually it will be near the end, since my office is in the opposite direction of the apartment. Either way, walk out of the red building and turn right.

At least I guess that’s what’s happening. There’s really a lot that’s going over my head.

I suppose the details aren’t different than in the U.S. – you have your cable, utilities and Internet – but it’s vastly different than Morocco, the only other foreign country I know.

I follow that same road until it splits at the white curvy building, where I stick to the right (go left and there's a McDonalds. Of course there's a McDonalds). This is the kind-of-scary part, because at the building in the corner, there is a big branch sticking out and I have to kind of go under it to make the turn, which usually has a wall of motorcycles coming in my direction. Good thing A. they're not Harleys and B. the building is a hospital. Convenient!

There, you find a place, ask what the rent is and who the landlord is and somehow he mysteriously appears, usually with some tea and sweets within reach.

You haggle over price, then hand it over. No lease, no deposit. The electricity bill comes – probably still in the name of someone who died eight years ago – and you pay it. Life goes on.

Rounding past the hospital and the Starbuck's sign, there's a dead end at the bottom of this twin building. I can go either left or right around it, and on the other side I climb up a big creaky set of stairs to walk over a highway full of traffic.

I’m sure it’ll settle down, but it’s times like these I wish I could just fast forward a couple of weeks.

But, similarly to Morocco, fast doesn’t work here. Well, except for the motorcycles. There’s red tape and everything else, so I just have to sit and wait.

Sorry, the landlord still hasn't contacted me about dropping off the deposit so I haven't gone over there today, but basically after crossing the street, I walk take a right and walk five minutes to my building. It looks nothing like this one, but a building's a building, right? Actually, my apartment -- two towers of about 20 floors each - is right *behind* this building, which is the hospital. At times in the hotel room I cold have sworn I heard aircraft close by and when I looked out, I saw a helicopter.

And watch HBO. There is something like six different HBO channels. The “Fargo” spate passed, perhaps anyway, and now it’s “The Bourne Identity” on one and “The Blind Side” on another.

In other news, I experienced my first thunderstorm yesterday. I was inside at work, so it was merely loudness, but WOW it was loud. Kocur would have been sitting on my chest and panting heavily in my face, I just know it. Heck, had she been with me, I would have willingly hung on to her. It was scary, with the loud thunder and lightning for sure but also the car alarms that went off in the parking lot with every boom.

(And just as I write this, car alarms went off on “Bourne.” Timing eh?)

I’ve no idea when I will move into the apartment. My normal work schedule is 3-11, so unless I wake up and get to it – which isn’t likely, both because I am trying to sleep until at least 8 (though that’s not working) and because it doesn’t seem Jakarta runs like that. – I can’t get anything finalized until after noon, which is hotel checkout.

I don’t know if it’s possible to get it all done today and move tomorrow, but we’ll see. I’d hoped to get it all done today, but it didn’t pan out. Now tomorrow might be a pipe dream as well.

However, I should have plenty of time to move this week. Friday is a national holiday (Indonesia takes Good Friday as a holiday) and the paper doesn’t publish on national holidays. Therefore, I’m off Thursday. (Mental note: Check list of Indonesian holidays.)

On Wednesday, too, I work an earlier shift – 1-9 p.m., though I’m not sure why and Friday I am back to 3-11 p.m. That’s one hunk of off-time.

If I was at all familiar with the lay of the land, this would be a perfect time to go out and explore some nearby pretty place, but that’s not happening just yet.

Bad things come in 4s

Nope, nothing wrong here, although I am finding apartment-hunting to be daunting. It seems there’s not a lot here that is as it seems.

Take my 55^th floor view, for example. I thought the elevator moved through those last 20 floors rather quickly, and when I took a closer look at the panel, I noticed it skipped from 40-49. So I’m not as high up as I thought I was.

Yesterday, I learned why. Since I’ve yet to pick up any of the local languages (I’ve asked the word for “thank you” about three times, but it has something like four syllables and I just can’t get it straight), I didn’t know that the word “four” in Chinese sounds about the same as the word “death.”

As a result, there are no floors in any buildings with the number four in them. Sometimes they get around it, like making a 3A, but at least in my temporary apartment, there just aren’t any with the number in them. So it speeds things up a bit.

The actual apartment hunting is going slow. I made a ton of progress yesterday and think I narrowed it down to two, although I started getting some last-minute suggestions from the colleagues I’m meeting every day (still working on those names).

Barring any last-minute entries, the two I am down to are fairly similar. One’s about a 20-minute walk to work and the other is about a 15. However, since my work schedule will be 3–11 p.m., I will have to taxi back every night. That sucks.

The slightly father away one costs less, has a tiny balcony and is smaller (This is relative – they are both studios and not much more than glorified hotel rooms.) The community is a little smaller, as there are only two buildings with about 20 floors each (but no No. 4 or 14).

The second one is in a fairly large complex, is slightly bigger inside and has a washing machine. At first, I thought it was closer to where the newspaper will be moving, but that’s not true. On that one, they want a six-month lease, which means they want all six months’ rent up front.

(OK, as an aside here, I am watching “Fargo” for the third time since I arrived. Indonesia, like Morocco, edits most of the all the sex and violence in most movies, and in Indonesia, unlike Morocco, they take out the F-word

Now, I am a big Coen brother fan – I watched “True Grit,” or parts of it, three times just on the flight over here – but when you take out the violence and F-word from “Fargo,” that just doesn’t leave much. I think it came on about 20 minute ago and we’re well over halfway through.)

Anyway, the fun art of apartment-hunting. This is only my second time ever trying to find rental housing, and both times have been in other countries. In Detroit, I had roommates and never went through this.

The money situation might be the kicker. First of all, I discovered on the first day of hunting there’s no way to get housing in what the company pays for it, so I have to delve into my own funds. It’s just a matter of how much.

The cost difference is 1 million Rp, or about $115 US. For that I get more space and a washing machine. At first I was set on it, but the more I think about it, the more I’m just not sure it’s worth it – especially when I realized this morning the higher-priced one doesn’t have a fitness center. Not that I think I’d become a fitness guru, just that the option of having a treadmill in an air-conditioned room sounded good.

So I think I have until tomorrow to decide; I’m getting a longer stay in this place. I did a load of laundry yesterday, which was cool.

I learned on Day Two that the nice hotel has a great breakfast, which consists of basically three meals. They have everything from salad (not a bar, but premixed), fruit, rice and other Asian offerings plus your slightly stale breakfasts cereals (“Rice Bubbles” and “Raising Brand”) and eggs and waffles to order.

It’s really nice, and basically that’s the one meal a day I eat, only I make it two. I have gone down there and had lunch of rice and some kind of meat topping first, then go for the American breakfast and wind down with watermelon and more tea.

The job is going. I’ve never copy-edited before and there’s definitely a learning curve. The style used isn’t AP style, it’s more NYT, and that takes some getting used to. I’ve never used InDesign but I am glad at the opportunity to learn it. Deadline, though, isn’t the best time to experiment with new software systems.

I made it safely

Yes, I have arrived safely in Jakarta and haven’t yet been sold as a sex slave. It’s early, though.

I’m 11 hours in front of Tallahassee, but oddly, even though it’s Tuesday morning here and Monday evening there, I am watching Sunday night’s NHL highlights. When that’s done, we move to some football game where Pittsburgh and Green Bay played several months ago. Perhaps you watched it.

So far, Jakarta is simply sprawl – farther than my eye can see. For three nights at least, I’m to stay in a furnished two-bedroom hotel/apartment. They didn’t have a one-bedroom available.

There’s also a study, a living room, a wash room (with washing machine), a somewhat Spartan furnished kitchen, two bathrooms plus a squattie pottie.

I got in late last night (and apologies, couldn’t figure out the Internet and was too exhausted to trek back down from the 55^th floor to go back and ask) and essentially went directly to bed for the first time since Friday.

The airport was quite different. The paper had told me they’d send someone to meet my flight side, which I didn’t even think was possible, but as soon as I went down from the gate, there was a man holding a sign that said “Linley.” I guess people assume that’s my surname, because by the time I checked into the hotel I’d been promoted to (or demoted to) “Mrs. Linley."

With the help of this guy, whose name started with a W but I’ve forgotten, I breezed through security – he already had my temporary visa and I essentially was guided backstage while it was being processed. I never had to ask any hard questions, which I’d been concerned about.

I mean, I have no return ticket, I wasn’t sure of the name of the hotel (it was in my checked bag, which I didn’t have at the time) and I blanked on how I should fill out the “how long to you intend to stay?” blank, seeing as how I marked I was a tourist. I figured if I put I was there to work, it would open up a big can of worms.

So having W there was really great, even if he seemed impatient to pass me on. It took awhile for my bag to arrive, but since the gate agents in Seoul, for some reason, made a point to tell me it had been loaded I figured it was.

And sure enough it arrived and W guided me out of the gate where he passed me off to someone else whose name, and its initial, also flew by me. (I was absolutely dead tired by this point.)

He drove me to the hotel and pointed out the office building. I also spoke to someone at the office and I’m to head in there a bit later this morning.

This is the farthest I’ve made it in any country without having local currency. I was intercepted too quickly to do so at the airport and it took so long to get my room I figured I’d just not waste any more time and get to sleeping.

Still mentally in a time zone of my own, I woke up at 3 a.m. for a bit and then 6 a.m. for what appears to be for a while. I’ve putzed around this palatial apartment and taken picture of my amazing view.

The city reminds me of the day I spent in Cairo, visiting Tarik. It’s sprawl, sprawl, sprawl braided with traffic, traffic, traffic. I’m sure the non-metro areas of the country are beautiful, but you have to love architechture and quirkiness to find any beauty here. (Looking down from the 55^th floor, I thought I saw some giant milk-looking bottles floating, but upon closer inspection they’re some kind of twirling billboard waving in the wind.)

I haven’t eaten much since Seoul, and even then it was a smushed blueberry muffin I’d taken from the plane.

Korean Air, incidentally, has much worse food than TAP Portugal. And I chose very, very badly. I opted for the beef, which was OK, but the side was some kind of tofu, which I avoided. The guy next to me went with the thing I didn’t understand, and it looked good.

Then, as my snack, I thought the option was “rice chips,” but it turned out to be ride or chips. The chips was a very, very bad decision – they were shrimp flavored.

“Flavored,” though, is a strong word. They tasted like that biodegradable stuff that comes in some packages (True. I’ve tasted them.) I’d go more with “shrimp scented,” which is NOT something I want to recollect, thank you. It was disgusting.

I did try guava juice, which was good but really sweet. I diluted it with some water.

Water. Joy. Judging by the warning signs everywhere, it looks like something you can’t drink straight out the tap, as you can in Morocco. I am not going to be into buying bottled water for the next six months so I’ll need to come up with some option. Boiling tea might be one; that’s what I’ve just done in my kitchen. I also boiled a big pot of water to drink later, but I need to verify that works as a purification method first.

I’ve posted some pictures of the apartment-hotel, and I have no idea why they came out so blurry. My camera battery is almost dead, though, so I’m not going to bother re-taking them.

The newspaper is the one where I’ll be working; I found that copy hanging on my door this morning. It’s a little intimidating to know I’ll be working there shortly.

Seoul Survivor

OK, maybe that's premature. It's only 8:10 a.m. and I don't leave Seoul until 3:45 p.m., but I've made it here. That's something.

Met some people on the ATL-ICN flight and we had breakfast in Seoul as soon as everything opened. Actually, they ate. I figure since I'm here for hours more I'll wait just a bit.

Had some really bumpiness in the flight but it landed OK, which is the important part. It was one heck of a long flight. Since I only got my ticket about 10 days ago, I had a middle seat and waited until someone on the side was awake to try to get out for a stretch/pee break. I could hardly stand up. My back hurt so bad it was insane. And my right shoulder still hurts, too, and I'd had issues trying to take off my long-sleeved shirt. I just can't lift it up.

I've officially caught up on my movies, though. Korean Air has those individual screens where you can choose your movies. I started with "The King's Speech," then, falling asleep, I put in "True Grit." I didn't see much of it because I was dead tired, which was OK. After that, I moved to "The Fighter" and I swear if there's a better looking actor than Christian Bale I haven't seen him. Both those Oscars were well-deserved.

After a "meh' "The Tourist," I put in "True Grit" a second time but got involved talking to my seatmate and didn't get too far. If I have movie options for my second flight -- 6-7 hours long -- I'll either do that or "The Black Swan," which was also on the list. I'm pretty much doing some Oscar-winning viewing today.

I had planned on meeting Amy in Seoul, but she's working so that fell through. Instead, I'm just going to wander the halls of this airport, possibly grab a bite to eat and play some Set before I head off again.

I ventured outside briefly, because I mailed Amy the candy I'd brought her. It wan an excursion since it involved going through immigration, which I'd already bypassed since I really was only a transfer passenger. Going through immigration late meant taking, per orders of the lady at the information booth, a 'staff-only' elevator down to just past immigration, which I felt was wrong and still do.

Boy, the looks on the people when I went down and popped out. Nothing bad -- had I been a dark-skinned person in the U.S. I'd probably still be in questioning.

Got a stamp in my passport for a total of 15 minutes at the passport. I figured I'd go get some fresh air and eat my breakfast muffin outside, so I did.

All I know about Seoul is the weather today is nice.

Half a world away. Almost literally

OK, so I have begun my journey to my new job. I’m trying to work up enthusiasm for it, but it’s not happening yet.

It’s still not real to me. I’d been hesitant to voice any particulars about the situation because I’ve gotten to this point previously and it’s fallen through.

But here I sit in the Tallahassee airport waiting on my (delayed) flight to start my trip, so here are the details:

I’ve accepted a job at The Jakarta Globe, an English-language newspaper in Indonesia. This is the same place I thought I had solidified a job last year. That went by the wayside but it’s popped up again.

Quite honestly, and I thought about this earlier today, I have no idea what my job description is. I think I’m a copy editor.

All I really know is I’ve agreed to a six-month contract with an automatic renewal for another six months. So unless they hate me, I hate it or I something else pops up, it’s a year.

My dog is devastated. My parents aren’t happy, but it IS a job, and it’s in my field.

Sadly, as bad as the pay is by US standards, it’s par for what I’ve seen in Tallahassee.

Half the circumference of the earth at the equator is 12450 miles.

The distance from Tallahassee to Jakarta is 10628 miles.

I hope this is the right thing to do. I just feel I had no choice. I’ve been looking and nothing has popped up, let alone anything related to communication. I’m taking the positives and as I told someone, even though I am not sure what my job description is, I’m going to be the best one of them there is.

It’s Saturday, about 4:30 p.m. Due to time changes I can’t fathom right now, I arrive Monday evening around 9 p.m. I had a plan to layover to Seoul but that fell through, so I’ll likely take a nap in the airport.

I don’t know about Internet access until I get there, so I’ll see you on the other side.

Almost literally.

Sleep tight. Big changes are coming.

Well, spring break is over and my dog is thrilled.

Actually, she’s a nuisance today. She went with me to drop off Zippy to carpool down to the Villages with CaroLynn and when we went to the meeting place and I snapped on her leash, she lunged at CL, snarling. Bad girl.

Then, later today when I was assisting the repair of a flat tire, I had my girl outside with me, which was dumb on my part. The blonde is unpredictable, and I looked up to see her down on the end of the property by the road. I yelled at her and finished what I was doing. Then I went down to get her, and she’d run off.

I looked all around and finally saw her – ACROSS the highway in the Harrell’s yard. I wound up picking her up and carrying her back. I wanted to smack the crap out of her, but I don’t think her little pound dog brain had any comprehension beyond “Bad girl!”

Which is different than the nephews, whom I am happy to report are safely back in Orlando. Zippy and I dropped them off Saturday and man, Kocur and I sure slept good that night.

Saturday … what a treat. I walked in the Springtime Tallahassee parade with 19 other RPCVs (and four future ones: two who are leaving this summer and the almost 1-year-old twins of a couple who served and met in Guatemala.). I hadn’t been in the parade since my high school band days and I can’t remember the last time I’ve seen it.

I got to carry the flag of Morocco. Apparently, the state library here has flags of many countries and you can just go check them out. Who knew?

My nephews didn’t care to march with me, but eventually they met me at the park, but by the time they found me they were in pretty foul moods, so we headed out.

On the way out, Zac almost got killed because he ran across the road without a moment’s hesitation, let alone looking. Fortunately the oncoming car saw him and the person mostly in danger was Zippy, who almost had a coronary. It absolutely, totally scared her, and I think her being so scared frightened Zac.

After she started breathing again, we stopped by their favorite spot, Chick-Fil-A to kill time on the way out. They enjoy the play area, even though Nic is pretty much on the bubble as far as being too tall. Parents, grandparents and aunts enjoy the fact the play area is pretty much soundproof. You can’t hear anything that comes from that room, which is usually fabulous.

And sometimes it’s not. Zac and Nic were playing and laughing along with some other littler kid and I went to refill my tea. I came back, sat down and looked in only to see Zac bawling. From my angle, he was holding his nose and noiselessly sobbing his little heart out.

I ran in and asked what happened. Nic, he said, had taken his face and shoved it into that rubbery net thingie that keeps kids from crashing from the upper levels. I couldn’t believe it because it seemed a bit violent – something a person would do in anger instead of playtime. I mean, they had been laughing and playing and all of a sudden the mood changed.

Nic ran by and I stopped him, asking if he’d done what Zac said he did. He said yes, and had no apparent regret about it. He was done playing, as was Zac (I’d previously given them five more minutes, and time was up anyway. And Zac was still crying.)

I just don’t understand this kiddo’s brain. He’s the same guy who advised my mom to lie to someone about something, and when she protested and said that wasn’t good to do, he replied breezily with, “It’s easy.”

At Chick, I asked him why he’d done it and he had no answer. You can’t reason with an 8-year-old, but I told him I really wanted him to tell me because I just couldn’t understand it.

Man. There was some other stuff that made me worry, too.

It’s not like the spear. That was his fault, for sure, but it was carelessness. He’s done similar stuff of Zac before, and when you get a reply about why the answer is along the lines of Johnny Cash: “I wanted to see him cry” or “To see if I could hurt him.”

My speared leg, incidentally, now has a bull’s eye on it. It’s a dark purple circle with a faded green smaller circle inside. In the dead center, there is a black scab. It looks like a target, but I am hoping with both boys back in school that people will refrain from throwing pointed objects at it.

It looks like the boys will be at Camp Papa for a stretch this summer, too, but I won’t be around to play Favorite Aunt. I’ve taken a copy editing position at a newspaper and will be leaving Saturday.

It’s a good thing, but I’m not completely overjoyed: I’d hoped to never work in journalism again and it’s quite a ways away. But it’s a good job in my field, and inchallah it will give me something my resume lacks: new media experience.

When I left in 2006, what they mean by “new media” didn’t exist, so I’m coming up short on other “communications specialist” positions, even though I could figure it out. So hopefully I’ll be able to get back into the game.

This has been in the works for a little while, but I’ve been so burned on jobs I’ve been scared to mention it. Even now, with a start date of next week I am still hesitant to voice too many details.

It’s not quite real to me yet and I’m still continuing to act as if I am not leaving because I’m spooked something will happen at the last minute. I’d just started going to Thomasville Road Baptist Church and finally joined the singles Sunday School. Last Sunday was my third week, which means I’m officially a “member” of the class.

In my “continue as if the job will fall through” phase, it didn’t occur to me my first week as a member would also turn out to be my last at the church.