Saturday 21 December 2013

Habitat

Vulcano Murapi seen from the village I live in
and its disappointing eruption

Greens

A street in the village

Muslim cemetery
The village

A mosque next door that reminds about its presence 5 time per day
The closest Warung and its most loyal customer David

The house I live in

The best seat in the house is actually outside the house

It's almost 6 PM and dark
Homeworks

Very Hippie

Inmates and guests
Telly in a common room

My favourite painting of many that are in the house

Studio, hammock and buckets for dripping watter

Water list

A seat for three

There is not a single clock, but many maps in hour house

The most uncomfortable (yet only in the house) couch ever

Kitchen
Van Goghian wall in my room (proud to be the author)

Varinian wall in my room (again proud to be the author)
Me in sarong in the front yard

Sunday 8 December 2013

Self-made men

Three days ago I went to an Indonesian immigration office. Anyone who ever encountered any office of this kind knows that it is a cherry on the top of the pie of national bureaucracy. Time and humanity stop and stay outside institutions like this. I guess they are banned by the same senseless rules that also forbid to wear T-shirts, shorts, shorter skirts or any other outfit that is not a torture in Indonesian weather in Yorya's immigration office.

On arrival to the office a controlled chaos of parked vehicles greeted me. Three quarters of the parking were devoted to the handful of cars. Cars are symbols of upper social status and traffic power in Indonesia. Furthermore, Indonesians do not take practical driving exams, thus they simply can't park without an external help of one or two assistance. In other words, 7 cars needs and hence have more space than 77 motorcycles.

The remaining quarter of the front yard was jammed with motorcycles parked millimeters one next to other. After few moments of lost and desperation a mas (Indonesian polite title of a young man) showed me a space just big enough to park a motorcycle. He was not a Samaritan. He was a self-made man whom everyone has to give seribu (1000 Indonesian rupiah) for his services before a departure. Wherever I drive and park I found these men who for one or two thousands greet me, help me and see of me. There are no other choices no matter where I go: public beach, supermarket, governmental institution, etc. The unsolicited help is everywhere. 

A parking assistant outside Indonesian immigration office


The parking assistants are not kings, nor presidents. The source of their rule and power is not divine nor sovereignty of their people. They are inventors who create their jobs out of nowhere. When I drive around Yogya I see men standing in the strangest places and inviting me to park there where they decided to stand and create a source of their incomes. These men are truthfully self-made men in the most liberal way. Neither their freedom nor their responsibilities come from or goes to any outside source. 

Parking assistants are not alone in this liberal world. Salesmen who sell their good on street and road; in small village shops; driving around three-wheel bicycles with a small containers full of fruits in front of them; and jumping to economy class buses on their stops in front of traffic light and ride till the next lights. Also there are musicians, who play (for money) the same terrible cacophony of sounds with three string mini guitars between the same traffic lights on the same buses. Other musicians, but with percussion play next to traffic light, while one or two men with buckets runs through the temporal labyrinths of standing vehicles. Sometimes the liberal rhythms of drums are accompanied by dancing child, woman or monkey. 

An then there are my favourite ones: big men with big riffles. Soon after arrival to Indonesian I started to notice men who drive and walk around carrying big guns with optics and silencers. For a while I was wondering what are at the other end of the gun. On Java there are no big predators who would threaten human-beings or their life stocks. However, the aim is not to kill, it is to tranquilize and to sell.

Yesterday, just after the rain for the second or third time since my arrival I witnessed how a seventeen(ish) year old boy with a air-pressured rifle (mounted with optics and silencer) came to our front yard and fired a number of shots upwards into trees. He was aiming for small exotic birds that he could put into tiny cage, bring to animal market and sell to rich locals and internationals. He was another type of self-made man who himself invented a self-sufficient job in a black market of exotic animals. 

Here I live in a truly a liberal dream of the complete independence of any social and natural entity that creates a world with not a single bird in a sky and tones of plastic rubbish on the ground.

Monday 18 November 2013

Photos vol.2

Hats

low tide at Paintai Baron

Indian Ocean

Pantai Wediombo
collectors of sea weeds


Drying sea weed
With lunch before it's eaten

after lunch



high tide is coming





rest on the way back home

thumbs up



Saturday 9 November 2013

Penkmetis

Labai, netikėtai sau pačiam, ankstyvi rytai tapo mano mėgstamiausiu paros metu. Čia, Indonezijoj sunku rast tylos ir vienatvės, kuomet galiu pabūt netrukdomas. Apart ankstyvo ryto ir vėlyvos nakties gyvenimas - tarsi bičių lizde. Todėl, bene pirmą kartą per nuo 1995 aš vėl pamėgau keltis anksti rytais. Tik dabar aš nežadinu kitų.

Šiandien ryte, kol dar visi tyliai savo lovose atsigaudinėja po vakarykščio tūso, besimėgaudamas 'pusė velnio' kavos puodeliu dar sykį peržiūrėjau nuotraukas iš praėjusio savaitgalio kelionės į pietinius Džavos paplūdimius. Nuo Indijos vandenyno pakrantės parsivežiau, ne tik smėlio blusų sukandžiotas kojas (pamoka, kad nakvynė at smėlio, be palapinės gali turėt gerokai erzinančių pasekmių), bet ir keletą visai neblogų nuotraukų.

Kaip bebūtų, tiek aš tiek keletas iš jūsų žinom, jog aš retai kada skubu tvarkyt neseniai pagautus kadrus. Nuotraukų retušavimą dažnai nukeliu bent savaitei ar ilgiau. Šiš rytas, ne išimtis. Nusprendžiau, jog tingus sekmadienio rytas nėra tinkamas metas tokiam darbui. Visgi, viena iš nedaugelio nuotraukų, kurioje aš esu užkabino. Aš priešais mažą ežeriuką, kurį aptikom pakeliui iš paplūdimių. Apskritai, joje nėra nieko ypatingo, bet nusprendžiau, jog pats laikas pasikeisti FB profilio nuotrauką ir ši yra tam tinkama.

Po dešimties minučių nauja nuotrauka persikėlė amžinybei į interneto lankas. Tada atėjo laikas palyginti dabar ir ankščiau. Vienu mygtuko paspaudimu vėl atsidūriau lauko kavinėj Mažojoj Italijoj. Pirmą mano pirmos kelionės į NYC popietė aš su Laurynu ten užsisakiau dienos pasta ir alaus. Ir tai įvyko 2008 metų vasarą  - daugiau nei prieš penkis metus.

Sovietų Sąjunga sugriuvo, bet penkmečiai liko. Tai itin tinkamas laiko tarpas planams ir reflekcijos. Visgi, pirma mano pastarųjų penkių metų refleksija - tą dieną Mažojoj Italijoj aš net numanyt negalėjau, jog kada nors bus kaip yra.



Tuesday 5 November 2013

a place to wait


Another day I was talking with Carmen, that the tradition of punctuality developed in Norther areas not without a reason. It sucks to wait for someone in -  10 ºC.  And the weather in places, like Lithuania, Germany and Sweden, gets much worse. Thus, punctuality in the North is Human obligation (in contrast to human right not to freeze to death), respect and the basis for good health condition.

Meanwhile, temperature on Java dictates very different story. The number of 30 on the scale of thermometer also suggests how many minutes (at least) one has to wait for another one.  It's OK to be late. More than that, the abstraction and relativity of time are social norms in a local habitat. If something ought to happen, it will happen, whether in an hour or in a week. And if it has happened, well it was not meant to.

One may say that it is the same with Arab Standard time, Italian Standard time, etc. People tend to care less about their and others schedules in the warm places. You don't have to be Doctor in sociology to observe that its rather nice to have another cup of espresso while one waits for a friend in  the stunning Piazza del Duome, Firenze.

Nevertheless this entry not about Mediterranean or even much bigger Southern picture. It is about life in Indonesia. There are many features that distinguish Javanese people from the bigger picture of what in this entry I call normalities of flexible time. One of the is the avoidance of confrontation and overwhelming need of public politeness. My friend Carmen already wrote about the need of smile. People close their eyes here in so many occasions just to avoid the extremely unpleasant situation of a direct conflict. According to an Australian friend who I met recently and who lives on Java for a number of years, Javanese linguistic procedures and long exchanges of formal and socially normal phrases function as a tool and a space to deal with the situations of disagreement. Otherwise, these situation can grow into an open disputes, which are not very welcoming.

The number of 141 mln. inhabitant of the Java island has to be added next to the features that I touched upon previously. Hence, here we have a situation where people live extremely huge proximity,  abstract time and the intreralational sham. This means that there are almost the infinite number of the little crisis of conflicts that are constantly postponed. It is rather easier to convince yourself that you deal with the "hot topic" later. Furthermore, it also raises a chance that a situation will solve itself and your agency in "the nasty business" will not be required anymore. However, this delay of any social conflict also defers large about of other things that could and should be done now. And here we live in a vicious circle, where the socially deviant frustration, caused by constant state of delay is hidden under the social implication of future action, that postpones even more things that have to be done and creates more anxiety. Yet, if you ignore it and learn to live with it, you will find yourself in the completely stressless environment, where sun is yellow and life is mellow.

Oddly, I start to feel that I cannot live in this relaxed and easy-going time of tomorrow and the momentum of Baumanish past screams and begs for stressful situation now. Kundera's of "The Unbearable Lightness of Being" also fits my stay in Indonesia very well.




Saturday 19 October 2013

Karimunjawa


View Larger Map
Jepara harbor

Ibu on board

15,000 for a watermelon

A house
Lady Jesus

Fishing boat

Karimun

Captain
Layer Cake
Same boat, other island
I love fish, Indonesians love photos


new settlers in Cemara Kecil island

Home for 3 nights on a deserted island.

Geertz please!!!

If there is a spectacle, there must be spectators.
We
Me