The Journey Home

In a little under an hour, our journey home will begin. We will get in a rented vehicle headed for Solo City where we will stay the night near the airport. Tomorrow morning we will arise bright and early for one last meal in Indonesia before taking the shuttle to the airport and board Silk Air for Singapore. From the moment our plane takes off, we will spend the next 44 hours traveling to Little Rock, Arkansas.

Last night I had to say goodby to some of my friends; really they're more like family, but the blood issue remains. During the past two years, the drastic change in culture from that of the United States has enabled me to discern areas in my home culture that are not so beneficial. Let me say here that I love America. I love my country, even though I have serious political issues with its current administration. I also love much about my first culture. However, I also realize that much of this world's culture is comprised of human insecurity, greed, and self-preservation. The interesting insight I've had is this: why strive so hard to preserve what is so fleeting anyhow? Or, as Jim Elliot said, "He is no fool who gives up what he cannot keep to gain what he cannot lose."

All that said, what occurred to me as I was saying goodby is that Indonesia is home. I am comfortable here. When on vacation, I look forward to returning to Salatiga. I like Indonesian people, the language, the food, and the culture; although it, too, has faults. What I am interested to see is how this transition will show itself while we're in the states. Will I discover that my memory of the U.S. differs from reality? Will I be disgusted with the materialism and shallowness of Western life? Or will I be impressed with its suffistication and depth of life? We'll see.

One thing I am sure of, God will show me more of himself and of who he's made me to be. Cultural adjustment is not my goal. Nor is political correctness. My aim is to be transformed into the mindset of Christ. And any obstacle of human invention is not worth holding on to.

Lost

Have you ever driven around a foreign country without the luxury of a native speaker, a map, or any idea of exactly where you were headed?

Last night, Mona, her sister, said sister's husband, and I did just that. We spent the day visiting Borobudur, then on to Yogyakarta for some shopping at Malioboro to encourage the economy of a town hit by the recent 6.2+ earthquake. After a great day of seeing, spending, and scarfing, we decided to take an alternate route home. Mona and I had previoiusly traveled several roads home from Yogya and wanted to venture out to find a shortcut for ourselves. Armed with a digital compass/watch and our wits, we veered from the normal course and flow of traffic into the abyss of rural Indonesian roads.

Our adventurous spirit had us heading in the general direction of our home town, but without road signs, a map, or a trusty guide, we ended up on a road with a blockade that read, "Do not enter: this road closed due to volcanic activity." Apparently our northern route had led us right to Mount Merapi.

So, I pulled over and asked a local vendor how to get to my desired destination. He and his wife immediately said, "Continue on this road for a few kilometers and then turn right. You can't miss it."

Naturally I asked, "Isn't this road closed? The sign says so."

"Of course not. Go on."

So, being the go-getter I am, we headed on up. Not 30 seconds after passing the sign, we entered the tent-city of the evacuees from Merapi’s activity. I quickly pulled over and walked into the first police station I saw. I politely asked the gentlemen how to get home, to which they laughed hysterically before saying (roughly translated), “Son, you done got yourself so lost, it’ll take Search & Rescue team to get you out of here.”

After a few more minutes of us all laughing at my blunder, one man said he was about to head home anyway, and that he’d be happy to lead us to the main inter-city road.

We followed this fellow for several kilometers before he pulled over to give us brief directions the rest of the way, as his home took him in another direction. His muddled jargon and gesticulations left me baffled, but wanting to proceed. So, I thanked the kind man, then immediately turned left, misunderstanding his pantomime, before he raced up behind us, flashing his lights like a disco strobe. He got out and furrowed his brow as he approached the passenger-side window to clarify, “I said straight, then left. Not left, then straight.”

“Oh, I see now,” I said as I played the role of the dumb tourist. “So straight, then left. Ahha! Thanks again.” And we’re off. This time he doesn’t follow, so I figure we’re okay.

Two hours and several numb extremities later, we arrived home.