an army marches on its stomach and so does an English teacher, as Daniel Pope discovered.
Despite my livelihood from publishing, writing and teaching English, I do not have an aptitude for languages. During my 20 years in Indonesia, I have accumulated a smaller vocabulary than the average of ten years. a chimpanzee, not of man. Foreign words just do not stick in my head.
I have more trouble putting words together. Slips of the tongue let me down. Once, a taxi driver asked me the route I wanted to take my destination, instead of answering, " Saya tahu akan kasi ", meaning that I would tell him, I ' I said, " Ikan saya tahu kasi ", reflecting the more surreal "My fish will inform you."
I was once an English teacher resident on . an army base in Cimahi, a small military town near Bandung My room was on the edge of the base, but this puts me out of earshot of the noisy parade ground - cries of " kiri kiri kiri-kanan, kiri ... "and the trampling boots - he also put my computer out of Wi-Fi range mast located next to the animated rectangle of tarmac
[I discussed this problem with the officer who had the unenviable task of ensuring that I, a civilian called meddlesome, was treated correctly I called Bantu officer respectfully. - "help" in Indonesian. A quiet but confident guy, he promised that he would discuss technical issues and see if Wi-Fi of the scope can not be extended.
He assured me that Indonesian troops were the most disciplined people in the country and that the selection process for new army recruits was difficult. I'm not so sure. I heard that it costs just a goat to join the Indonesian army for those who do not have the cash equivalent. But most of the jobs in the public sector are available in Indonesia.
I hope that the men detailed Bantu agent to secure the Wi-Fi had more than a hint that the handyman who made home repairs in my neighborhood Jakarta. This man was responsible acres of lumps, electrical wiring dangling and twisted, twisted plumbing. Once, I found carpentry, squatting on the floor, I set up a work bench for him. But he just jumped out and crouched on the bench, continuing as before until, but higher.
All expatriates in Indonesia have stories of workers bodging jobs, but my favorite concerns a pair of rear doors replacement was built with my friend. He asked the workman to install a cat flap. Since pet doors are common features in the doors of Jakarta, he had to clarify what he wanted. He then left, confident that when he returned Tibbles have a small door into its own.
And it turned out to be. Except he did not rely on apparent direction of Acute symmetry of the worker. For when he returned, he found not a single cat flap in a door - either the left or right he had left at the worker's discretion - but in each of them. A pair of matching pet doors.
But the lack of Wi-Fi was not my only complaint on the basis of the army. There were also some food of a quality able to sustain my morale. Do not mistake yourself. I love Indonesian food. It fascinates me. I am particularly intrigued by telur podcast . This dish is originally from North Sumatra, pounded and boiled eggs characteristics which were rolled around the frying pan -. Combining two methods of cooking an egg for no apparent reason other than to produce a skin like plastic
This brings us to the next point. Ask an experienced expatriate in Indonesia to name a popular local food that is best avoided, and they could choose sambal , one based mainly chilli sauce. The common form of bottle this stuff is on dining tables across the country.
Dollop the Indonesians on almost every meal. In most fast food restaurants sambal bags are piled on your plate, while the ketchup should be sought. I once taught a friend how to make a sandwich with egg mayonnaise, but trying to stop adding half a bottle of sambal sauce mixture was like trying to stop a vampire adding blood.
The same friend, unemployed, used to go very far to scrounge money from me. He sent me a letter once, begging me to pay his hospital bill for a leg injury. It would have been more convincing, he did not include a picture of his leg, he had smeared sambal to create the illusion of blood - bright orange blood. I replied that I send him money for a bottle of ketchup so that the next time he could do a better job of deception.
But I was fed to the base was not Indonesian food. It was the food of the army. It was slop served in a mess hall. Indonesia army cooks must learn two things in my opinion. Firstly, the fried eggs are intended to be served warm. They are not intended to be rubbery outside, spongy inside and filled with small cooking grease pockets. Second, the heated bread is toast. Toast is toast. There is a difference.
Taking pity on me I ate somberly every day Bantu agent suggested I compile a pleasant meal menu for me, the cook would do his best to evoke. This arrangement was an improvement until the evening for my pizza arrived. Because the kitchen did not have the proper ingredients, and I do not have a fancy pizza with noodles in mind, a soldier was sent on his motorcycle nearest Pizza Hut and get me a takeaway.
but the nearest store was 11 kilometers in Bandung, and it was rush hour. Unfortunately, he also poured with rain while he was gone, his 90 minutes late return with my US Supreme making -. Now cold and soggy
But it was not the condition of the food that ruined my appetite. Pizza, after all, is famous for edible stay when all other foods have become fit for the trash, and as such could be the food that sustains the Apocalypse survivors.
It's just that it's not easy to fit in your pizza when outside the window the driver is ordered to descend among the puddles and make a hundred press-ups to be delay leading to you. Unless you are completely without heart, it put you off.
Returning to the problem of my Wi-Fi or Bantu agent, nor the power of the regiment seemed closer to give me a signal. Each attempt invariably failed. I was surprised by that. I would have understood that I had to stay with the infantry or cavalry. But my host was communications regiment of the Indonesian army - the equivalent of the Signal Corp in the British army. If they could not successfully accomplish the mission of making me online, then nobody could in Cimahi.
Ultimately, Bantu agent saved face by claiming that I had not been allowed free Wi-Fi because I do not have the security clearance. I wondered if they thought I could be James Bond. I guessed anyway the joke goes around the mess hall was "Oh yes, our guest James Bond. Licensed to bloody well complain about everything. "
Nevertheless, I agree to return to Cimahi for a new teaching relay. But this time I insisted on living in a hotel in Bandung and commuting to the army base. Of course, this led to my fish tell taxi drivers where to go in the morning, but it is better to be subjected to ikan style army smothered in a sauce sambal for dinner every night.