As I was leaving my friend’s hometown a few weeks ago, her family members gave me parting gifts to remember them by. From her cousin who owns a shoe shop: red flip flops. From the sister who owns a clothing shop: a blouse and a jilbab (head covering for Muslim women). More often than not, this works in the opposite direction in Indonesia. When Indonesians visit relatives in other cities or villages or islands, they bring gifts (called oleh oleh) with them and these are distinctively from their own hometown. Many times Indonesians bring local foods to share. Which reminds me, I have one more bag of oleh oleh my research assistant had his father send from Sumatra.
As we near our time to return to the U.S., I think about the things I will remember Indonesia by and what I can share with friends and family upon return. It’s nothing I can really physically take with me or bring to you, as you’d probably expect. Rather, it’s a surplus of moments living in a place I’d never visited a year ago. A place where I now feel at home. Where a life is carved out. Where friends are found. Where my worldview has been met by many others. Ever since June I have dreaded the part where I leave Indonesia; and before that it seemed I had enough time not to think about it yet. While I am looking forward to reunions and resuming life in the U.S., there’s still a loss, a letting go, that awaits. And I am not looking forward to that.
As we near our time to return to the U.S., I think about the things I will remember Indonesia by and what I can share with friends and family upon return. It’s nothing I can really physically take with me or bring to you, as you’d probably expect. Rather, it’s a surplus of moments living in a place I’d never visited a year ago. A place where I now feel at home. Where a life is carved out. Where friends are found. Where my worldview has been met by many others. Ever since June I have dreaded the part where I leave Indonesia; and before that it seemed I had enough time not to think about it yet. While I am looking forward to reunions and resuming life in the U.S., there’s still a loss, a letting go, that awaits. And I am not looking forward to that.
A few days ago we waved goodbye to our friends, Nancye and Paul. They will be away until January, weeks after we return to the U.S. We would wander into their house almost daily and chat for a bit before heading home. You can do that here. It’s a place where doors stay open, where neighborly visits are not the exception, where life is more shared. I will miss that, and I will miss them. It was the first of many goodbyes.
Until it’s time to go, I’ll just try to take in as much as I can. My morning drive over the bridge and up the hill in the photo above brings me by this t-shirt design shop in the photo below. I know it’s cliché, so I won't say it, I’ll let the sign say it for me.
So there you have it--my sentimental post on how I am feeling about leaving Indonesia. I just don’t want to.
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