Culture Shock came to Jakarta. Finally.

Several months back I was thinking about transitions and culture shock, wondering if I was really a robot because I had not yet experienced that all too familiar feeling of "OMG THIS COUNTRY! HULKSMASH EVERYTHING!!!"

Huh. Turns out I AM human.

(Hi, I'm Erica and I have culture shock.)

It wasn't the infernal traffic that got me. Or the poverty. Or even the sickenign wealth. Not the pervasive stench of decay that lines Jakarta streets, nor the threat of falling through a broken sidewalk into the open sewer below.

It was the eyes, the looks, and the wolf-whistles that did me in. 

After several months of early morning ojek rides to CorssFit, Mr. Chef mentioned in passing that a few people had commented on my motorcycle taxi attire. I should be wearing shorts. It's indecent, apparently. Dudes would get the wrong impression. Too much leg. Inappropriate.

Mr. Chef was to educate me on the corect way of covering my body.

Naturally I was annoyed. I mean, I'm an independent actor. Certainly it's up to me to determine what is and isn't appropriate for my body. And further, we live in central Jakarta in the midst of luxury malls and fancy restaurant where I regularly see girls walk around in six inch heels with shorts so short that one false move and all is revealed. So, why then, is there one standard of dress for rich Jakartians and one for me?

Then, a few weeks later I was riding in the back of a taxi, absentmindedly trying to ignore the overly chatty driver. We went through the usual pleasantries, country of origin, length of time in Jakarta, the general awesomeness of Indonesians, the terrible traffic, my marital status (wait, what??) I buried myself deeper in my phone, earbuds on, and tried  to ward off any more unnecessarily personal questions. 

The car slowed, I looked up. There was the driver, arm extended over the back of his seat, taking pictures of me with his phone. 

I reacted in an instant. I grabbed his phone, and threw it.  Shrieking obscenities, I jumped of of the still-moving car, middle finger raised. 

Since then I've been on edge. I've noticed dudes giving me the long and lengthy stare. I'm quick with the eff-you eyes. And the occasional eft-you finger. And okay, I may or may not have thrown one or two sweary tantrums over inappropriate gestures in my direction.

My patience is thinner, my temper quicker. I'm irritated by the traffic, the stench, the garbage, the plodding pace of life in a way that I wasn't before. I'm burning mad, I'm taking it personally, and I'm assuming that it is because I'm a white-skinned bule that this attention comes to me (oaky, I may be right about that last bit, but that's a post for another day.)

It's classic culture shock.   

I'm unsure, exactly, of how far to bend. Do I cover up, sweltering in the morning sun? Do I acquiesce to this outdated notion of modesty thereby feeding the belief that a woman "deserves it" because how she chooses to dress? That Caucasian women are "easy" and therefore fair targets for sexual advances?

Certainly I can't "educate" local men on the "right" way of treating women. That's not my place. But I don't think in this case I can say that I'm okay with giving up on my shorts.

As respectful as I am of cultural difference and religious diversity, Indonesia is not Saudi Arabia. It is not a monocultural desert nation. These islands have a fantastic degree of diversity, ethnic, cultural, linguistic, and religious. On Java alone, there are countless native ethnic groups, not to mention the substantial populations of  Indo-Indians and Indo-Chinese, for whom, PS, super-short-shorts are NBD.  I don't feel a strong obligation to conform to notions of modesty because this country is built upon coexistence, and dammit! I'm going to coexist in shorts, so STOP LOOKING AT ME!

I dunno. What's your take?   

I'll probably feel better about culture shock if you send a vote my way. 

Rained out Play Dates and Le Petit Society

A couple of weekends ago, I got together with a couple of blogger friends, Ana and Kaho and their adorable boys. We wanted to showcase a few outfits that the lovely people at Le Petit Society had sent to us.

Our plan was to play outside, enjoy some green, some (relatively) fresh Jakarta air, and perhaps a quick splash in the pool.

And so, in what was a act of pure scheduling genius, I was all, Hey, friends, come over at three! It'll be better for taking pictures. You know, no harsh shadows, golden hour etc. etc. etc. 

(OMG, bloggers are THE WORST, lolz and stuff.)

So, obviously, at five minutes after three we heard our first clap of thunder. 

And then a torrential rainstorm. 

(Late afternoon is prime-rain-storm-time. I'm obviously a tropical novice.)

The sub-optimal weather was like, totally NOT OKAY with the talent. Well, with one particular talent. This kid would NOT pose for photos because, no. I'm two. Related: NOOOO!

Hi. I'm not posing. And that golden hour you promised? Huh?

 Still won't pose. Also: thunder = scary.

This guy, though? He's a champion. Not phased one bit by a strange environment and loud air noises. Directions? YES SIR! I will follow them!! Pose? Here? Sure thing! Let me add my winning smile, and a little twinkle in my eye. Just because! 

Is this kid photogenic, or what?

 

We moved the party inside where the lighting was terrible and the toys were everywhere. Frankly, I think Stella was kind of gunning for this turn of events. She's not one for dirt and outside or wet and rain. Toys! Playing! Mess! French Fries! A baby! All the best things in life!!

 

But the best, by far the best, (at least according to my kid) was this little guy. Isn't he the sweetest? 

 

There may or may not have been a display of toddler-style "gentleness" more akin to a mauling, and a certain someone who was quite distressed that this pre-verbal baby was not responding to her commands of "Baby Y come here! COME HERE! Sit my wap! HERE! COME!!! NOW!!! Sit! HERE!! COME!! Mama, make Baby Y wisen to me." 

 

Alas, she got her cuddles. And he? Well. I mean? COME ON! He's just too much!

 

All in all, a successful is sopping wet play date. 

We all agreed that the clothing was a hit. A certain little boy was all about the rocket print shorts; and a certain girl was thrilled to see the marriage of her two favourite things in life: stripy-stripy and candy pink. The mums were into the whimsical prints, nice pops of colour, and totally assessable price point. 

If you're in the market for some adorable outfits for your wee ones, I encourage your to check out Le Petit Society. Their girls collection is adorable (this is Stella's new favourite shirt), but I'm stoked on their boys' line. So stoked in fact, that I may or may not have hinted that my girl's a bit of a tom boy, and can she please have these rocket print shorts? And you know these patch pants? Umm, they're super nice???

Oh, and if you live in Asia, they ship free. FREEEEE. Free. 

Disclosure: Le Petit Society sent some clothes for Stella, and the boys to try out with no obligation to write about their products. I were not compensated in any other way for this post, and all opinions herein are mine alone! Thanks, Le Petit Society, your clothes are fantastic and so are you!

Project Life ::: Week Twenty

trying to put chaos into order in my girl's room // another tidy corner and nesting dolls from Japan // painting, always, but only red + white (because pink, obvs) // a fallen bloom // these trees blossom year round, a great joy // motorcycles parked by the hundred for car-free day // a monkey trying to steal my milkshake. 

Linking up with The Beetle Shack, and inspired by Pink Ronnie. 

If you have a second, I'd love your support. Click the button below to give me a vote!!

20/52

"a portrait of my child, once a week, every week, in 2013."

Stella: Looking GROWN. Huh?

A veritable first for our little family: we all got up at an unreasonably early hour to enjoy Jakarta's car-free day. The central thoroughfare is closed to traffic every Sunday Morning, and instead of being besieged by honking horns and bumper-to-bumper traffic, Jl. Sudirman is overflowing with strolling families, go-getter athlete, cool kids on fixies, and otters in sweaters. Obvs. Stella climbed up onto the fountain of Jakarta's iconic traffic circle to blow gigantic bubbles with a bubble wand about as tall as herself. 

But that bubble extravaganza was by no means the hightlight of her day. That, my friends, came when we took her to a mall and let her ride the elevator about 15 times in a row. Happy Sunday!!

Last week, I got felled by sweet little babes in knitted hats. Here's two. And one more here. 

Tob Baby Blogs has reset, and I'm keen to keep up the third-culture-kid domination. Last quarter three (or maybe four) of the top five blogs were penned (typed) by mums of TCKs, including yours truly. I'd love it if you could send me a vote to keep us in the top this quarter.

Click here to vote, or click on the button below. 

If you're looking for a few good TCK blogs, here: one, two, and three.

Things and Stuff.

THIF  S Or something. This week. THIS WEEK. Eff you, this week. I've been knee deep in life stuff which has been entirely sub-optimal, plus sleep stuff (also lower than awesome, but Mr. Chef has born the brunt of that one), parenting stuff (OMG THE TANTRUMS "mama GO OUT! mama come here! NO GO OUT! Heartbreak + rejection at ear-shattering pitch x 45 minutes) and work stuff (awesome why are there not more minutes and hours and time you dirty bastard).

Thank god it's Saturday so I can hide out in a cafe, catch up on internet stuff, enjoy burger and milkshake in good conscience, and perhaps stock up on some fake DVDs. 

Here are some things that I've enjoyed round these ol internetz.

A plan of atack to get out of the doldrums (PS did you know that The Doldrums is actually a place? Like in geography? Where sailors get stuck for weeks and months and eternity because the wind just kind of quits? I know because I just listened to an hour-long radio program about sailing around the world. I am SUCH a nerd.)

This is my child's spiritual twin. 

A great post on being okay with not loving all aspects of little kid fun timez. For me, it's playing babies. OMG, stab me in the eye. 

Amy has added personalized art to her shop. 

Baby crack for all you android users. (Too soon, Tom Ford?)

I've been pondering the greater questions in life, including cargo vests, fantastic graphic tees for toddlers, and the perfectly draping white tee-shirt. Any suggestions on the latter?

One strategy I'm employing to deal with the tantrums (with limited efficacy, I'm more OMG RAGEFACE than pace and calm) is to remind myself that it's a phase. It will pass. Time slips by etc. etc. etc.  Here, case in point. 

There was a really fantastic piece in the Atlantic a few weeks ago about touch screens and toddlers. It lead me to this app, much to the delight of both me and Stella. 

Speaking of screen time, we've been spending ours watching Infant Self Rescue Swimming videos. Which promted Stella to believe that she could swim, when in fact, she can not. 

I'm pretty sure that life can not continue without this pillow. And this has been hanging out in my Etsy cart for far too long. 

SO, I wanted to link to some flower faces that Roxy Marj posts on her instagram (must follow @roxymarj). They're beautiful, quirky and totally inspring. But, because I do not with the internet, I can not. Instead, here's her blog. (PS I'm @expatriababy).

I <3 Neon

I'm having a neon moment. Okay, I'll admit it, I've been having a neon life. Here are a few things that I'm swooning over at Etsy. 

dear head // print // driftwood // slingshot // ring // bowls 

Mother's Day

The nicest thing anyone has ever done for me was done for me by my mother. 

My mum was en route to Japan from the US as I went into labour, arriving near midnight after a long flight made longer by delays and missed connections. She was there by my side, my touchstone and foundation, as I worked and laboured for 23 hours to bring my girl into the world. She was there, as I traveled across the city twice a day to visit my girl in the NICU. She was there to hold my baby while I slept. To understand and empathize through colic, extreme sleeplessness, and level nine culture shock.

She disrupted her life, spent six weeks in our tiny apartment in Japan, and carried me through the newborn weeks. 

It was the greatest.