being a teacher in crazy beautiful Indonesia

Technically speaking I wasn't even allowed to teach in Indonesia because they have a law that says you must be at least 25 years old and I was 23 at the time, but one of the advantages to a country that is openly corruption ridden is that with a little money in the right pocket you can do just about anything. (Seriously, we even managed to bribe our way in to the National Football Stadium to score a goal as a part of a challenge through our school, I also rode on the back of a police motorcycle without a helmet through downtown Jakarta for the same reason). So my being 2 years junior to the offical limit was a non-issue.

I had no idea what I was getting in to but I prepared myself for the worst. My figuring is that if you arrive thinking everything is going to go smoothly then you will be sorely disappointed no matter where you are, however, if you arrive assuming that you will be robbed, left hungry and stuck in a hut then you will be very grateful for anything better than that.

So when I was told that my shared accomodation would have airconditioning, I pictured a rusty old fan, when I was told I would have my own room I pictured paper dividers set up between straw mats layed out on the floor, and when I asked if I would be met at the airport and received this reply from the company I was going to work for "I'll be teaching classes, so you will be met at the airport by Mo, one of the teachers. He's unique, not at all typical of an EF teacher, so don't be put off by his outrageous behaviour", I assumed they weren't taking the piss but rather sending a crazy person to pick me up.


Luckily, everything was better than anticipated. Mo, turned out not to be a deranged psychopath. I did in fact have a room of my own (it even had a lock on the door, however the only window faced in to the kitchen instead of the more traditional 'view of the outside') which came equipped with a real working airconditioner. So for all intents and purposes I was in fact going to be living in a house. A house which I could theoretically lock said psychopaths out of.

This was by no means 5 star accomodation, we had everything from rats to floods. When you pulled open the cutlery drawer you literally had to wait for the cockroaches to run to the back before you could pull out utensils, toilet paper was unflushable, hot water was non-existant, mold was rampant and leaks were an everyday issue during rainy season (which lasts half the year), there was a time when our water pump was broken and we had to use the water that was leaking through our roof to flush our toilets. And as far as Indonesian standards went, we were living well.


Living in Indo is not for the faint of heart. If you want comfortable accommodation you need to either work for an Internationl School or pick a different country.


I was working for a franchise called EF English First and was based in Central Jakarta, unlike working at an international school or even a regular school for that matter, we were simply a language school, meaning we were essentially an after school activity for kids or an after work learning centre for adults. So instead of waking up at a normal time and having a 9-5, our classes started around 2 or 3pm which meant we didn't go in to the office until around 12 to do lesson planning and you didn't finish until around 9pm. The result being that we wouldn't usually have dinner until after work (classes tended to be back to back with not enough time between for a meal) or go to bed until around 2am, which meant waking up late - usually around 10 or 11am. It was a bizarre system, but it worked.


Indonesia may not have been easy, but what it lacked in organization it made up for in adventure and friendliness.

Indonesians are hands down some of the nicest people in the world. No matter where I was people were forever trying to help me get where I was going (even if their directions were wrong) or just smiling and calling 'Hey Mister' (not offensively, more as a slight misunderstanding of the definition of mister). Of course by the end of the year I definitely craved walking down the street anonymously, but in saying that, I now miss being told I look beautiful by random strangers even when I looked my worst, can't have it all I suppose.

Beauty wasn't the only thing on their mind, Indonesians have a habit of asking very personal questions. When teaching a Business English class once, I asked my students to work together to create a list of 20 appropriate questions they could ask a foreign business partner. Here's a small sample from their uncomfortable answers:

What is your religion?
How old are you?
Are you single?
What is your address?

They were honestly shocked when I told them that none of those questions would be deemed appropriate by their foreign counterpart and that some may even consider them to be rude. Indonesians are just very open people and by showing interest in your life they are showing an interest in you, they really do want to hear your answer and they were very surprised to find that you may not want to answer at all.

Religion is a big deal in Indonesia, everyone is something. It's even printed on their ID cards (they are given six religions to choose from: Islam, Christianity, Catholicism, Hinduism, Buddhism, and most recently Confucianism - which I'll be honest, I had to google) The interesting thing is that there didn't appear to be any strife between the religions, or even any resentment towards me for not being religious. I was constantly asked about my religion and when I answered that I wasn't religious, they would just nod their head and smile, no one tried to convert me or ostracize me, I was just accepted, which is a lot more than I can say for most countries. Hillary Clinton even commented once that 'If you want to see democracy, Islam, modernity, and women’s rights coexisting in one place, then come to Indonesia. Because I believe this place is more about the future than many other places in the world'.
And if the wonderful people weren't enough to win you over, surely the tropical landscape (from unexplored rainforests to active volcanos), diverse cultures (there are around 300 native ethnicities in Indonesia with 742 different languages and dialects) and food (think creamy peanut sate, spicy fried rice and fresh fruit - all being sold for less than $1 on the street) would.

I absolutely adored my time in Indonesia, it was a struggle for sure, what with over population, some of the most intense traffic I have ever witnessed and a thick layer of pollution blanketing the cities. But I also climbed two active volcanoes, took weekend trips to tropical islands (that costs me less than $100US including my flights, hotels and food), ate a massive amount of delicious street food, tasted Kopi Luwak (the most expensive coffee in the world because it is literally pooped out by a cat), planted rice in a rice padi and met amazing people whom I will never forget. So was it worth it? What do you think.



(Photos top to bottom: with some of the children out at Himmata Orphanage & School for Street Children where I volunteered as a teacher on Sundays, Puppets for sale in Jogjakarta, with one of our hosts during a homestay program in Cianjur where we learnt how to plant rice and visited a floating village, Gili Trawangan, and last but not least, spending Christmas with my friends Tiara & Fika's family)

Teaching ESL

On a fairly regualr basis I find myself writing to people who are interested in teaching ESL (English as a Second Language), sometimes just generally, but most often either with regards to Indonesia or Czech Republic. So I finally decided to put all the info in one place, I'll put it in to three parts starting with teaching ESL abroad, followed by Indo and then lastly CZ so that everyone can (hopefully) find what they are looking for, but if I miss something or you have more questions, just ask.

So I suppose I'll start with the conundrum: How does one end up teaching when they aren't actually a teacher?

For me it started just before my 23rd birthday, I was living in Victoria, Canada where I was born and raised. I had a great job that I adored, working at an Adoption Agency, and was living in a beautiful flat with one of my best friends. But something was missing. I realized I didn't really have anything tying me down, I didn't own the flat or even a (nice) car for that matter, I wasn't dating anyone and while yes, I loved my job, was that really enough to keep me in one place? As it turns out the answer to that is a steadfast, no.

The only issue was that while I wanted to travel more (I had already lived in Australia for a year and backpacked around both Europe and Thailand) I didn't have the money to fund a trip, nor the means to pull off a heist, so my friend suggested teaching ESL. The idea had crossed my mind before, but I thought (quite logically) that you needed a degree to teach, which it turns out, overseas anyway, you don't. Teaching ESL is more of a 'fake it till you make it' type gig. Though not having a degree limited where I could and couldn't teach by quite a large margin, I was still able to find a handful of countries where I was qualified, simply because English was my first language. And so my decision was made.

I took a TEFL (Teaching English as a Foreign Language) course throughout November, quit my job, sold my car, moved back in with my parents and started applying for jobs, within a month of my application being sent out I had interviewed, bought a ticket and was on my way to Indonesia to start as an ESL teacher in the capital city, Jakarta. It really is that quick. There are quite literally always job openings somewhere in the world all you have to do is find one you trust and go.

As for taking your TEFL, there are a lot of options out there, you can take the course either at home - wherever that may be - or you can do it abroad (it's offered in Thailand, Spain, Czech Republic, Greece and Vietnam amongst other exotic locations) most courses are about 4 weeks long and cost somewhere in the range of $1000US, but that's a ballpark range and fees will vary depending on the company/country you choose. Once you are finished, if you have a degree you will pretty much be able to work ANYWHERE in the world (the only exception is the Middle East, where they expect you to be an actual teacher with experience and a teaching degree, fair play I suppose). But other than that having a TEFL/TESL Certificate really makes the whole 'the world's your oyster' a reality.

The best salaries are usually in Asian countries, they also generally pay for your flight - reimbursed at the end of your contract - and your accommodation, though in saying that while Indonesia paid for both my flight and my accommodation, I didn't make a high salary and my accomodation was not comparable to what I have been told is on offer in Korea or Japan. But Indonesia is cheap and I wasn't going for the money.

There are so many options with teaching ESL that you really need to decide what you want before starting your search, think about which continent you would like to be on, how long you are willing to sign on for (do you want a contact for one year or do you want to do a couple months in one place and then move on to somewhere new)? How much money you would like to make? And then start your search. It's easy to spend hours browsing the listings so it's good to narrow down your list a bit so you don't get too overwhelmed.

Hopefully that helps anyone who is interested in trying it out! It's definitely been worthwhile for me, there is no way I could have afforded to see as much of the world as I have without it. So if you are on the fence just do what I do every time I am faced with making a big decision, look at all the aspects and then ask yourself: Why not?

a little bit of independence

Every now and again when you are abroad and feeling a bit nostalgic you find something that feels a bit like home.

In Indonesia I found it in an air conditioned coffee shop while it was raining, I turned to my friend and said 'If you pretend it's cold outside it kind of feels like home.' We both laughed at the idea of missing cold rain but none the less found some twisted comfort in it.

In the Czech Republic it happened when I walked in to a hockey arena. The smell of sweaty hockey players mixed with the cold, the puck hitting the boards, the sticks and the skates cutting in to the ice. This felt like home. If it wasn't for the fact that they strictly played songs that were popular at least a decade ago and made announcements in a language I couldn't understand, it really could have been home.

But for the first time I didn't need someone to translate for me. I could watch the ref making crazy hand gestures and understand, I didn't need anyone and it was like being given my independence back.

The thing is about travelling on your own, is that while you have to be independent to do so you also have to have a certain level of dependence on others. Whether it be trusting the information they give you, following advice on directions or simply trying to communicate with others. When your language and their language aren't the same there is a certain loss of independence required of you.

A prime example of this happened to me last year when I woke up with one of my eyes stuck closed. Something I hadn't realized could happen until then. Eventually slightly creeped out and still disoriented from sleep I walked to the bathroom pirate style, one eye closed against my will to check out the offending eye. With a hot facecloth I washed my face and discovered I looked like a stoned demon. Definitely not my best look.

I did a quick assessment of the situation: eye doesn't hurt (that must be a good sign, right?), look evil (though may be useful), other eye looks normal. Can't be anything too exciting, I decided and headed to work. Makeup seemed like a bad idea, an appealing one, but a bad one no less, so I pulled on a hat and kept my head down, trying not to freak out the other people on the bus. 

When I got to work I quickly cornered Lisa.

'Look at my eye!!! How freaky is it? Is it super noticeable?' Apparently more concerned with the vanity of the situation than any possible ramifications.

'Um, it's pretty bad.' She said diplomatically. In all honesty, I looked like I had been up on a 5 day killing spree. 

'What do you think it is??' 5 years my senior, I expect Lisa to have answers to all my questions like a child asking an adult. I figured I may have rubbed something in it while I was sleeping, but she looked at me and replied thoughtfully, 

'Well, it may be conjunctivitis.'

I paused not knowing what that meant. Something about things ending in -itis sounds so serious. Like Gingivitis and all those pictures they use to scare you at the dentist, as if you forget to brush your teeth one night before bed and an army of bacteria will march through your mouth pillaging what they can beyond recognition. I have seen homeless people with better teeth than they display in some of those photos.

'What the shit is conjunctivitis?!' I asked.

 

'Um, it's nothing really. Just an eye infection.' Well that much was clear, but then it dawned on me.

'Wait. What? Like pink eye??? I have PINK EYE? How did I get it?' I asked, assigning her as my temporary doctor.

'I don't know much about it to be honest. Why don't you just see how it is at lunch.' I nodded and briefly considered making an eye patch but didn't have enough time.

When I walked in to my classroom a hush fell across the room and two of my kids just stood there staring at me, mouths gaping open. Well whatever it was, it was definitely a valuable intimidation tool with the kids, I thought with pleasure. 

I wasn't able to exercise this newly found skill for long, as news of my demon eye quickly spread to my boss who rushed me off to an eye doctor, where they shone bright lights in my eyes and then announced in Czech that something was wrong with me.

Now see here's the fun thing with ESL: unless they are studying to be a doctor, people rarely know ailments, they can tell you about their weekend and their favourite food but ask them why you woke up looking like you are among the living dead and they will talk amongst themselves and turn to you with an apologetic shrug.

It was decided that whatever was wrong with me was enough to send me home for bed rest for the remainder of the week. So i took the medicine that was given to me and sat around googling my condition, which after some research I identified as Pink Eye brought on by a child sneezing on my face the day before. Yum.

So if you are looking for a bit of independence when you are abroad watch sports and if you are looking to feel totally helpless go to the doctor.

Climbing Nut (August 2009)

'What are some traditional ways to celebrate Indonesian Independence Day?' I asked my students.
 

I was teaching an IELTS preparation class, (IELTS is an exam that allows universities and colleges to confirm that all international students have adequate English skills to succeed in their courses prior to acceptance), though most of these students could read and write effortlessly they were ordinarily too shy to speak so we often spent at least half an hour discussing random topics using comfortable subjects for them and with Indonesian Independence Day coming up I figured it could double as a lesson for me on traditional ways to celebrate.
 

I leaned back against the board expecting answers along the lines of: 'We spend time with family' or 'We eat traditional foods and sing songs'. So when one student answered:

'We climb up a palm tree to get prizes from the top.' I stared blankly. I thought maybe I had misheard him, but he went on, 'they grease the trunk and put prizes at the top.'

I couldn't help it, I was intrigued. 'What kind of prizes...?'

'Big stuff, like....televisions!'

'And bicycles!', added another eager student.

'And refrigerators', put in one of the quieter ones.

'Wait. What? No...'
 

I started to shake my head, this couldn't be right, I was sure something was being lost in translation. I mean how on earth would one get a refrigerator UP a palm tree, let alone balance it there? Not to mention that climbing a palm tree seemed hard enough without lubricating the trunk of it.

But they all nodded while I continued to stare at them perplexed. I slowly turned to the board and drew a picture of a palm tree, it wasn't a very good one, more like something a 4 year old would draw, but it was obvious enough and they all nodded that yes that was in fact a palm tree. These weren't children, these were adults, adults who spoke English better than some native English speakers, of course that's not saying a lot when you consider how some native speakers mutilate the language. But still. Greased up trees with fridges at the top?
 

'But without the leaves.' They suggested examining my poor illustration.
 

So I turned back to the board and rubbed the leaves off with my hand and drew a bike at the top. They snickered a bit but they continued nodding. I had the sneaking suspicion that they were pulling one over on me. It didn't seem plausible to expect people to shimmy up booby trapped tree to retrieve prizes, even if it was a bike. But then images of Japanese and American game shows played in my mind and I came to the conclusion that people the world over will do daft things for very little incentive.
 

After class I decided to google this supposed tradition and as it turns out as absurd as it sounds, it's real. “Panjat Pinang” is the official name and the literal translation is 'Climbing Nut', which makes sense in more ways than one, since you are voluntarily climbing a greasy tree to remove heavy objects and that said tree just so happens to be a nut tree.
 

The tradition has controversial roots since it was started by the Dutch during colonial times, when they would erect greased up poles with food or clothes atop them in villages and laugh at the impoverished locals as they tried to climb up to retrieve the goods.
 

But it seems the Indonesians have managed to change a demeaning practice in to a community building game. Since it is virtually impossible for one person to complete the task alone a group of men work together like an all male cheerleading team forming human pyramids while a boy climbs to the top to remove the objects which are shared amongst the participants. The boy part makes sense in that he is not heavy, but very little sense when you try to imagine a child lifting a fridge. Maybe not the most well thought out plan. I wonder what the fatality rate is from falling appliances?

Perhaps a new way to celebrate Canada Day? Though I am still not sure of the logistics of a communal fridge...

The end of my Jakarta life ( Dec 2009)

One year that I have lived in this crazy country How on earth do I sum it up?

I think I will actually miss "the big durian" (guide books tell you that this is a nickname for Jakarta, though I have never heard it used, it fits...and anyone who knows what a Durian smells like has an idea of just how lovely Jakarta is to the nasal senses...a mixture of rotting garbage, smokey satay and fried foods, plus the added unidentifiable but powerful smells which emit from the river on hot days (which is every day), mix that together with the fumes from the bajaj's and millions upon millions of motorcycles and you have a very unique smell....unique is perhaps a euphemism). But smell aside, durians are an acquired taste like Jakarta, something you either love or you hate. I honestly think they taste like rotting garbage where others consume such products as durian ice cream and durian creme-brulee of their own freewill... In any case it's an intriguing and obtrusive fruit that could double as a medieval weapon.

What better way to roughly sum up a year in this city than the good, the bad and the ugly:

The good:

• The people are incredibly nice and very helpful, if you look lost for even a minute you can be sure that someone will try to help you, whether or not their directions are correct is another matter in itself...but the thought is there.
• The food is yummy and cheap; luckily for me one of the teachers I work with is married to a very sweet Indonesian woman who has taught me how to make varied dishes so that I can continue to eat the food, even if wherever I am next doesn't have an Indonesian restaurant (or any Indonesians for that matter).
• The language is actually quite beautiful and not at all like a typical Asian language in that it is written in the latin alphabet, I have managed to learn a small amount and can carry simple conversations without sounding like an asylum escapee.
• The storms! There are tons of storms with lightning, thunder and monsoons! Especially during the rainy season (which is literally half the year)...I refer to it as: 'rain like in the movies!' And I don't care how many floods it causes, I still want to twirl an umbrella and hang off lamp posts when it happens, although the rats swimming by quickly deter you from spending too much time in it.
• The geckos, because they eat mosquitoes and make funny noises.
• 'Hey Mister'...depending on my mood. It will definitely be nice to walk down the street anonymously again, but I will miss being a celebrity. I suppose I would feel more strongly about this one if I had any complexes about my appearance...the suggestion that you are male is merely a misunderstanding as opposed to a reference to any androgynous features you may or may not have. I hope...
• Being told I am beautiful by strangers even when I look like a hobo or have recently been run over by a car. This is the place for Westerners in need of an ego boost. The line is thin though, they can also be very blunt and will make comments like "Your nose... It's like Pinocchio" (said to a fellow teacher) and "Miss, you look dirty" (when I came back from holiday with a tan). But Westerners like to look 'dirty' while Indonesians like to use creams that give them complexions comparable to Michael Jackson's ethnic transition stage.

The bad and the ugly....as I was writing these I realized that they fit together:

• The litter, the pollution, the over packaging of every single thing that you buy. They literally give you your drink at a fast food restaurant in a plastic bag. That's right , the one in a cup with a lid that accidentally pops off all the time...the one that is designed like that because it is consumed right away and doesn't NEED a bag. This place is Al Gore's worst nightmare.
• The taxi drivers that have no idea where anything is, even within a six block radius. In London, taxi drivers have to pass 'the Intelligence' to be able to drive people around, here you just need to steal a car and demand money from strangers for getting them lost.
• The people that try to rip you off because they assume that you are rich because you are white...although sometimes it's fun to pretend to be rich and try on designer clothes and jewellery...why yes, of course I can afford this $20,000 necklace...
• The cockroaches!!! All of them, the ones outside that chase you down the street, the ones in the cutlery drawer, the ones in the bathroom in the middle of the night that run at your feet, the one under my bed wielding a knife, the ones that I have to catch strategically with a bowl and a piece of paper, because I still can't bring myself to kill them, the ones that fly....I hate them all. Passionately.
• The rats!!! Why are they the same size as the cats??....and for that matter, why don't the cats have tails, where are their tails?? Why do the rats practice the Olympics within my walls? I also won't miss the potential of them getting in the house (or showing up unannounced in the kitchen, which has happened twice)...And I won't miss the bizarre bird-like noises that they make when I am trying to sleep.
• The mosquitoes...not only are there entire colonies of these miniature demons living in my house but there is also the added fun of potentially getting something exciting like Dengue Fever from them.
• The traffic - a distance of a few kilometers can often take an hour to get through. This even with all their strict traffic laws (HA!)...all Indonesian laws are more like guidelines (except their drug smuggling laws, for that they kill you. Literally.)...it depends on how much money you have as to which ones will apply to you.
• And forget walking because between the pollution and the large gaps in the sidewalk that drop in to open sewer, the sidewalk is as dangerous as swimming with hippopotamuses (which sounds fun till you read the stats. Hippos. Not as jolly as you would expect.)
• The corruption. Until I arrived here I had never been forced to pay a cop for no good reason. Scratch that. I had never bribed a cop, period. Though in saying that corruption has it's upside, I was able to score a goal in the national football stadium when it was closed and rode on the back of a police motorcycle with no helmet on just so that I could score points in a scavengar hunt. Try doing that in a country where you can't pay the police...
• The shoe marks on the toilet seat from people that stand on the toilets.
• The water all over the bathroom because someone was spastically using what I refer to as 'the bum spray'...I am sure there is a technical name for this device, but bum spray probably gives you a better visual. Think the spray tap you use to wash dishes but not for dishes...
• 'Indonesian time'...in short this means, slow and never on time. Unless of course you use a bribe...
• Indoor flooding! You can almost pretend you are outside on a rainy day with the leaks that have come through the roof...And outdoor flooding for that matter, a rat literally swam by our front door once...lovely.

But even with all it's craziness I still must admit that I love Indonesia, in fact that is what I love about Indonesia. I even hold a special little spot in my heart for Jakarta. I will definitely miss this country and of course it's people, who really make it what it is. I rant, but it is a special and very unique place and I am lucky to have had the chance to live here (even if it did cut a few years off my life and give me a voice that sounds like I am channeling Louis Armstrong).