Bogor

As per the name of this blog, I was very anti this trip having much of anything to do with the lady who wrote eat pray love. No offense to the fans out there but I find that woman's ramblings to be self-indulgent and actually just self obsessed. The whole "I'm so independent but my life sucks so I'm gonna run away cause I dont need a man but I get to Bali and ofcourse I marry a native because I need a man because no I WANT a man because ...VOMIT" Its like Sex in the City for the adventurous at heart...kill me.

I did bring something far more pretentious on my trip though, the pocket sized 'My Life' by Lyn Hejinian.... I read it all the way to Bogor only making it through twenty pages between the absolutely pressing need to savor and reread every word/ sentence and the totally doted upon toddler who had swatted all of her 6 siblings off her mother's lap and was simultaneously defending her position as the center of attention while totally fascinated by my big earrings / white skin... So for my first truly abstract and annoying bit of travel wisdom, I give you Lyn Hejinian...

"A German goldsmith covered a bit of metal with cloth in the 14th century and gave mankind its first button, It was hard to know this as politics, because it plays like the work of one person, but nothing is isolated in history -- certain humans are situations. Are your fingers in the margin. Their random procedures make monuments to fate."

Expect a lot more nonsense of that variety on this blog (tuning out here might be wise if you have a weak stomach for other people's annoying self realizations).

Bogor was intense! The train station is mobbed and as in the rest of Indonesia people are scrambling on to platforms running across train tracks and through other trains to get to where they are going. Leaving the station you are swarmed into mini buses, although I of course persisted on foot, just barely finding my way to the botanical gardens past all the colonial architecture (far more in tact here than in Kota). The brits built this place to get away from Jakarta and initially laid out the gardens, but the Dutch left it in good repair and added to it quite a bit. Now its used to research a bunch of extremely rare species and as the back drop for the presidental palace. Its also like central park redux, families picnicing, children playing in the irrigation channels, and vendors selling trinkets. You can really see where the colonial influence is in these little patches of Monet like bridges and clean, cut grass... but oddly their beauty is trumped by the amazing tree life. Mangroves and huge towering structures with roots that form small caves and coves above the earth's surface truly take your breath away. It started to pour down rain, which I was grateful for, the humidity had reached peak and I had run all over the gardens without a thought to my own exhaustion. Had a tea with the new yorker in a cafe on the grounds while I waited for it to stop coming down so hard.

In Bogor I got a real taste of what is to come heading deeper into Java, being white here, is insane. People want to take photos with you, stop and practice English, suggest you marry them/ their family...its a little overwhelming to say the least and thanks to Eat Pray Love, they are all constantly insisting you rush your way to Bali to find a man. I had to stop and have four separate conversations in the gardens themselves a few of them lovely and very welcome - I talked with a teacher named Inda and all her students.. and a few just uncomfortable.

As I was leaving the gardens I picked up a young man who works as a waiter in Jakarta who followed me into the train station and all the way to Jakarta (this is an hour long train ride mind you). His English was good and of course he wanted me to know all about how he had just broken up with his girlfriend and asked if I liked waterfalls and would I come to his village to see the waterfall near his house etc etc. He was very sweet but I was VERY tired.

Once we made it onto a train and had exhausted most of his English, mostly in me telling him all about my imaginary boyfriend who was waiting for me at my hotel, we got on to soccer. I told him I had really wanted Ghana to win and..."black skin!" he said and made a face. I would have been shocked but this is actually the third time I've encountered this attitude, once with another such hanger on who I had to wiggle my way out of in Kota - who told me that Obama was NOT black he was Indonesian and was quite offended with my stupidity at such a thought. So being me I charged ahead and asked him what was wrong with black skin, and is this something that is commonly thought here? He said, 'Oh yes very much so,' and explained that if a person is mixed race they are fine, but dark skin is bad. Being me I went on to describe my waiting boyfriend as being a doctor... who was black and were going to get married and have lots of babies... I shook him a block from my hotel telling him he should go meet up with his friends and email me at the fake email address I had given him. Dont get me wrong these boys are not threatening or all that mal-intentioned, most are very kind, but its really hard to form any sort of genuine bond to someone who speaks to you on the basis of your skin color alone let alone espouses certain attitudes you are leaving behind in your OWN messed up country...where do you go from there?

Thanks to Nomaduma I knew to bring a ring and after yesterday I shall wear it from here on out and save myself some trouble....imaginary boyfriend "Will you do me the honor..."

-Katy

PS Endlessly boring photos of foliage / botanical garden to follow. Never thought I would say this but, GO GERMANY!!