My first apartment, which I described in a previous blog, was really nice. It was in a brand new building, and it came with the sweetest, most hospitable family. But unfortunately, the apartment didn't have a kitchen. Given that I still have regularly scheduled gastrointestinal problems from eating Indonesian food (I now sing Johnny Cash's "Ring of Fire" in the bathroom), it's absolutely crucial that I can cook for myself. So I moved.
My school found me a really nice house in a safe, quiet area of Medan. It was a beautiful (can't post pictures because the internet is too slow, but I do have them) two bedroom house with a front porch, a spacious kitchen, good water pressure for the shower, and the nicest neighbors. My street was full of young families with great kids, and for two days I was the pied piper of Bandar Khalifah. Unfortunately, within less than a day of moving in, I was voted off the island. Yes, that's right. I got kicked out. Apparently the complex in which I lived was intended for Muslim families, and my single, female, non-Muslim behind was not the right fit for the community. At least, that's what the men said. The women were so mad that I had to leave. But it's okay - in only two days, I forged some great friendships and will be going back once a week to teach the kids English.
Something good always comes out of things like this, though. All of the teachers at my school (who are Muslim) were so appalled that I was being religiously discriminated against. They didn't understand why I had been voted out, and they were so nice to me about it. So when I came to school the day after I'd been voted out and burst into tears from stress and exhaustion, I suddenly had 40 mothers to look out for me. Despite my assurances that I was not crying about having to leave my house, they were convinced that I had received a fatal blow to my heart and a forever-negative impression of Muslims and Indonesia. Really, I was crying because I was tired and homesick and needed an emotional release. I thought (and still think) the reason for me being asked to leave Bandar Khalifah was hilarious (if you know about the stereotype of American women in the developing world, feel free to read between the lines here!) and just one more ridiculous thing to put in the book I will write one day. But because they couldn't understand anything I said between sobs ("I'm just so GASP tired and GASP homesick GASP and I really love GASP Indonesia but GASP some- GASP -times GASP it's just hard because GASP GASP GASP I don't speak the GASP language GASP and I can't GASP eat GASP the GASP fooooood...), they thought the only way to fix me was to get me a new house. So while my Ibu went with me to buy chocolate (the international tear stopper), they all got on their cell phones and started calling people to find a house. By the time I returned, I was hearing about this great house in a nice complex where lots of foreigners live so they won't mind if I live there too. If I remember correctly, the explanation was "They are foreigners like you, so you will have people to talk to." It was really so so nice of them, and I will be forever grateful for their kindness and their hugs.
That very afternoon, I piled into the school van with six other teachers to go look at this house. I had no idea what to expect. We pulled up to this HUGE housing complex with guards out front. After passing through the gate, we drove to this enormous house and got out. This turned out to be the house where the sister of one of the teachers at my school, Ibu Murni, lives. We went inside and had tea and snacks (everywhere you go you have tea and snacks), and then we piled back into the van and went to the house for rent. The complex is so big that Ibu Murni's sister had to get on her motorcycle and lead us to the house. We got out and walked into the cutest little house, complete with a sliding wrought iron gate, a porch, a screen door, and air conditioning in the bedroom. It was so much more than I had ever expected!
The house is beautiful. It has two bedrooms, two bathrooms, a spacious living room, and an open-air kitchen. That's right - my kitchen has three walls. Which means the house gets excellent air circulation! And because AMINEF requires that I have both a Western toilet and a shower, they had to install both in the house. Which means that I got to pick which bathroom got the new hardware. Which means I was able to get them to put the shower head in one bathroom and the toilet in the other. WHICH MEANS that the toilet (and toilet paper) doesn't get wet when I bathe!
While we were looking at the house, the women kept saying that there is a pool inside the complex. I didn't really understand the big deal - I was still pretty overwhelmed from the idea that this could be my home - so I wasn't paying too much attention. As we left, however, they insisted that I see the pool. So we pile into the car again and drive to an enormous rec center inside the complex. On the way, we pass a tennis court, two convenience stores, four internet cafes, three restaurants, and a car-free jogging track. Then we park and walk into a two story building that looks on the outside like an American-style sports complex. We go through the front desk check-in and walk into the outdoor pool area. I was expecting some dinky little kidney-shaped pool with some deck chairs. Boy was I wrong! This is a resort-style pool complete with a separate kiddie pool. Then we walk into the FULLY STOCKED gym with every style of weight lifting equipment ever invented. All of this is available to me for free.
Oh, and my landlady gave me a free motorcycle.
Yeah, life is pretty good.
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