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Indonesia: Studies in Culture, Conservation and Development, Summer 2012


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Dear Indonesia Families,

Next week marks the end of our Indonesia program and students will soon return home to share their tales with each of you.

One of our Indonesiainstructors will fly back home with the group and will ensure that all students find their domestic connections. Our Dragons field-staff will be in contact with us if they suspect any delays.

We wish all students a great trip home. Please leave us a voice message on extension 30 if you are not able to reach us during office hours. We will be checking our messages throughout the evening.

Sincerely,

BoulderAdmin

To check on the status of the group’s international flight, please refer to:

http://www.cathaypacific.com/cpa/en_INTL/homepage

Returning Flight:

August 8th, 2012

Cathay Pacific #CX 784

Depart: Denpasar, Bali (DPS) 4:10pm

Arrive: Hong Kong (HKG) 8:50pm

August 8th, 2012

Cathay Pacific #CX 880

Depart: Hong Kong (HKG) 11:40pm

Arrive: Los Angeles (LAX) 9:50pm

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Indonesia: Studies in Culture, Conservation and Development, Summer 2012

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Dragons Administration,Indonesia: Studies in Culture, Conservation and Development, Summer 2012

Description

Dear Indonesia Families, Next week marks the end of our Indonesia program and students will soon return home to share their tales with each of you. One of our Indonesiainstructors will fly back home with the group and will ensure that all students find their domestic connections. Our Dragons field-staff will be in contact with […]

Posted On

08/8/12

Author

Dragons Administration

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Time has really flown here. It seems as though we just arrived in Masi Hulan, but it’s been almost two weeks since our arrival. The days sort of blend together. This time, I felt as though I connected with my home stay family more than before. Bapak Tanel and I would try to talk and uphold a conversation every day. He knew not a word of English. Sometimes, I would try to explain something, but it obviously wasn’t making any sense, and we would both start laughing. Other times, we would try to get the message across for a whole ten minutes until finally there was an understanding. Ibu Fin would make the most delicious food and whenever I told her how amazing it was she would be embarrassed as she thanked me. She would make rusa (freshly caught deer), nasi goring (fried rice), mie goring (fried noodles), eggplant, and plenty of other things.

The people in Masi Hulan seemed so happy. I hung out with my Pak and his friends a few late nights, playing guitar and talking, singing and laughing. We could only communicate a little bit, but the most important phrase I learned was “Mantap Kela,” meaning “Good Friend.” I really felt a connection to these guys; they were so happy to be able to even host a foreigner in their village, and that a foreigner would even care to come to a remote and isolated village surrounded by jungle. Sonny, a friend of my Pak, said I was their Kela in America, and that I couldn’t forget my time in Masi Hulan. I didn’t hesitate to assure him I wouldn’t.

The presence of religion was big in Masi Hulan. They were Christian, and had been for about fifty to sixty years. Before that they had traditional practices that were mostly based off of the laws of the ancestors. When they took up Christianity, they had to give up some of their old beliefs. However, they still believe that people can become possessed with ancestral spirits that are near. They don’t need to see to believe; they instead feel energies and believe in the parallel spiritual world. However, they also believe that the soul ascends to heaven, as is taught in Christianity. They are able to accept both of these beliefs, and they have not let Christianity reject their traditional beliefs. Instead they have slowly let it influence the village as people accept new ideas. The church procession we attended wasn’t totally different than ones in the states. It was a bit different, yes: it was on a humid and hot tropical island, the roof was made out of a weave of leaves from the jungle, the altar from jungle woods, and the people (besides Dragons) were dark skinned. However, the Priest spoke while on the heightened altar, his voice was magnified, there were elders consisting of overseers and deacons, everyone had bibles, church songs were sung, and the priest gave a sermon which was inspired from passages in the bible and was about how the community could improve in certain ways. I thought it was amazing that a place as far out as Masi Hulan could practice an entirely recognizable and similar Christianity, and at the same time not even show up on a map.

Which brings me to my next point. The isolation of Masi Hulan. Of people I have ever met, they are probably the most able to live off only what the land provides. They hunt with bows and arrows made from bamboo. They trap using only woods from the jungle. And they get their staple food, Sago, from a Sago tree and the ingenious Sago processing. The process involves running water through the Sago on a device which separates what is edible and what isn’t. What amazes me most about all of these processes is that the people of Masi Hulan set out with only a Machete. Every other tool and device is made while in the jungle. They know the jungle so well, what it can provide and how to get it. Wild boar, deer, and a furry marsupial called a Kus Kus (“coos coos”). They know what leaves and plants can be used to help heal the body and which can stimulate the muscles. They know how to climb trees to get pineapple, cacao beans, and coconuts. There is only one drivable road going through Masi Hulan. One way, it’s a fifteen minute drive goes to Sawai, a slightly larger Muslim port town. The other way is a four hour drive to the other side of the island where there are slightly larger cities. Even though they are isolated, pieces of technology find their way into the village, the majority probably from the other side of the island. Most houses have power for a few hours of the night. Some houses have TVs. I found myself watching Rambo IV one night; granted, there was no sound. Monster energy drink shirts and hats are sometimes worn. There were plenty of guitars around. People occasionally played songs from the other side of the world, like Bob Marley.

But the isolation of Masi Hulan had other factors. They weren’t near any hospital or intensive medical care. They had no practical access to police. The Indonesian government didn’t represent them. The government barely even knew about them and their community. In fact a few of them said they, and others in the village, would rather be a part of Maluku (currently a province), and not Indonesia. When I arrived at Masi Hulan, I wasn’t thinking of the people as under me or less privileged. I didn’t see them as worse off. But with the help of the instructors, I was shown the difference in privilege between me and the kind souls I had grown to love. They had been threatened when there were voting processes. The government had taken land that was theirs since the time the village was created. They didn’t have much extra money. They couldn’t travel to other places in the world if they wanted. They didn’t have the right to practice their traditional religion if they had wanted to. They didn’t have access to electricity except for a few hours of the day. I started to see the differences, and also feel guilty, sad for the vast difference in privilege, and wishing it could be changed. We talked about this issue with our guides, who took us into the jungle for four days after our time in Masi Hulan. They became sad about the differences in privilege that exist between people who are created equal. Sonny said that even though on the outside we look different, if we are cut we all bleed the same. They didn’t totally understand why they didn’t have the same opportunities. My heart went out to them. I was so used to feeling as though these people were the same as me, except spoke a different language, that I didn’t realize I couldn’t take them back to my home if I wanted to. There’s a great unfairness that exists in the world, and in Masi Hulan I met people who embody some of that unfairness. At the same time, I realized the things they had which most Americans lacked. They have an incredible amount of happiness in their everyday lives. Their relationship with the jungle and their ability to be completely self sustaining. Their sense of community, regardless of each other’s differences. They would not understand the concept of a homeless person because any community member would accommodate any other community member or even foreigner in need.

Indonesia became a lot more real to me in Masi Hulan. Now, when I think of Indonesia, it won’t simply be beautiful beaches and palm trees. There are people here who have voices, but whose voices can’t be heard. There are problems here that I wish I could fix, but I know it’s not that simple. These incredible people I won’t easily forget.

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Indonesia: Studies in Culture, Conservation and Development, Summer 2012

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Meeting Masi Hulan

Evan Taylor,Indonesia: Studies in Culture, Conservation and Development, Summer 2012

Description

Time has really flown here. It seems as though we just arrived in Masi Hulan, but it’s been almost two weeks since our arrival. The days sort of blend together. This time, I felt as though I connected with my home stay family more than before. Bapak Tanel and I would try to talk and […]

Posted On

08/6/12

Author

Evan Taylor

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In Maluku music is a constant. We’re sitting in jungle camp in the desolation of wilderness and I can hear our guide’s voices raised in song. They sit in a smoky wooden hut nearby, cooking and carving as they sing. I can’t see their faces, and I can’t pick their voices apart from the rope of harmony. The one word I can understand in their beautiful, foreign music is Maluku. This one word holds the power of all the others we don’t understand, of all the emotions we hear in our guides’ voices, of every tongue used to speak it, and of every note plucked to carry it along. To us Maluku has become more than a name, a place, a word in a song.

Maluku is the jungle. It is wet earth and mold and rotting leaves. It is tiny bell shaped red mushrooms and creeping vines and fleshy stems and membranous leaves that float down from the canopy. It is the choir of insects and the murmur of an aquamarine river. It is the rage of twin waterfalls and the tug of the current. It is caves and dripping cathedrals and the flight of bats. It is trees with pink starchy bark and roots that bleed water onto your tongue. It is the red of mace and the purple of nutmeg. It is leaves that sting your skin and skirts of milky fungus. Maluku is the jungle.

Maluku is food. It’s spicy red chili’s that burn your lips. It is whole fish with gleaming eyes and spiked fins. It is white rice and an Ibu barking “makan, makan”. It is the chewy meat of Cous-Cous, the musk of deer, the tang of boar and the salt of freshwater shrimp and eel. It is IndoMie instant noodles and sweet tea and fried cassava. It is fistfuls of red and yellow berries, licking the juice off your fingers and reaching for more. It is fried banana and cinnamon sausages and green cakes. It is rice cooked over a bonfire in bamboo stalks of coconut milk. It is jungle canari nuts and egg plant and white pineapple. It is chocolate Dutch buns cooked at 3 AM by Mama Uli’s weathered hands. Maluku is food.

Maluku is insects. It is green monsters with pincers and orange plated wings. It is white grubs that drill through pink Sago wood, skinny black beetles and the hops and glides and V-shaped wakes of water bugs. It is snails that bear seashells on their backs and the things that crawl in your shoes at night. It is the flutter of snowy moths and the slow winging of jeweled butterflies. It is the hand-sized spiders lurking in caves and on thatched ceilings. It is red ants stilting along on long spindly legs and inch worms with suckers and dew on spiral spider webs. It is deet and citronella and After-Bite. Maluku is insects.

Maluku is religion. It is the black robes and the paintings of Jesus in jungle, Protestant Masihulan where the sun rises over blue misty mountains. It is the cherished Korans and the call to prayer of ocean, Muslim Sawai where the sun sets over a crystal sea of coral and mangroves. It is breaking the Ramadan fast with cakes and coffee and dates on Friday night and singing in church on Sunday morning. It is lines of men with machetes lying awake in a field for seven days and seven nights, ready to kill their neighbors and their families over a difference of opinion. It is the mingling of animism and of Christianity. It is the spirits of the ancestors who stay and guide or who go to heaven, no one knows. It is abstract thought and steel blades. It is battle and belief. It is death and faith. It is conflict and community. It is the scars on our friend Naldo’s body and the loss of his home. Maluku is religion.

Maluku is healing. It is midwives who have never lost a baby and work with no drugs or western medicine. It is bandaged cuts and access to birth control. It is Tete the spirit man who smokes cigarettes with smoke that curls through his long white beard, who whispers to herbs and who cured a woman’s cancer. It is blood and heart and liver. It is herbs for inducing speech in small children, and tinctures for swollen wrists. It is women who rub cooking oil on sprained ankles and men who rub the knots from their son’s backs. It is a place for healing the heart and the mind and faith in the goodness of mankind. Maluku is healing.

Maluku is hunting. It is moving through the jungle at night, confusing drops of dew with the eyes of prey. It is dogs that come back with blood on their muzzles and deer lying slaughtered in the undergrowth. It is the glint of machetes and carving bows and arrows from bamboo. It is girls spending hours wearing away their fingertips firing arrow after arrow at a papaya. It is the charge of boar and the staring rusty eyes of Cous-Cous in the night. It is the gored flesh of the hunting dog and the skill of jungle traps. It is ropes woven from grasses and spears made from bamboo shoots. It is the twinkle of fireflies as you stalk the trees for a catch. It is grueling hikes and long waits. It is climbing trees and firing arrows and launching spears and tripping traps. It is splashing through the river at night with machete in hand, looking for the translucent skittering of crawfish and the thick muscled column of river eel. It is the bag of catch in your palm and the ache in your wrist. It is eating your fill and feeling you deserve it. It is whacking the hissing, spitting head off a ten foot python you stumble across in the dark. It is strength and endurance. It is mettle and mien. It is the power of men and the cunning of women. It is the gathering of nourishment and the feeding of hungry mouths. It is wild and violent and graceful and precise. It is necessary and vital and utterly thrilling. Maluku is hunting.

Maluku is birds. It is a past of poaching and a present of conservation. It is a bird sanctuary started by men who used to steal 400 a month from their trees and sell them illegally. It is repentance and conservation. It is the spread of impossible wingspans and the thrumming of hornbills above the palms. It is the quick flitting of tiny feathers and the beating of long plumes. It is a change in behavior, a shift in human nature. It is the kick of the kasuari and the blue of its neck and the savage red of its eyes. It is the lacy crown of a sky blue bird’s head and the shimmering red of a parrot’s tail. It is the jewel bright greens and purples and golds and tiny chocolate eyes. It is the trill of a cockatoo and the pink hue of a puffed up chest. It is rehabilitation. It is in danger, under siege by the government. It is Vito and Soni and Patche and four men who wrote a grant all by themselves. It is contracts and control and struggle and grief. It is work ethic and regime and purpose. It is a cause; it is the product of a desire for change and for restoration. Maluku is birds.

Maluku is our guides. It is the kindness and the patience and the sweet voice of Naldo. It is the depth of his compassion and the warmth of his heart. It is the firm hug of Soni. It is the speed of his hands and the poetry of his mind. It is the skill and the wisdom of Patche. It is the cut of his knife, the flight of his arrow. It is the bracelets he made for each of our wrists and the love he has for his daughter. It is his power in carrying a girl twice his size from the jungle when she hurts her ankle, slinging her over his back and refusing to leave her behind. It is the taste of Bede’s food. It is the high tone of his voice and the quiet sweetness he carries inside. It is the questions he lives and the gentleness of his being. It is our guides who taught us what it means to be a man, what it means to be a person, what it means to be good and kind. It is standing in a river and realizing the disparity between American and Indonesian and hating it, hating that people you love so much can live threatened lives. It is watching the strongest men you know break down into tears. It is Soni telling us that he is dark, and we are light, but that when you cut us we bleed the same. Maluku is our guides.

Maluku is family. It is the nerves of being taken to your new home for the first time. It is the fresh scent of laundry your Ibu, host mom, did without asking. It’s the tea and snacks on the table every morning and the long hours she stays awake at night cooking for tomorrow. It is sitting on the porch talking in broken Indonesian about dreams and home and the future and what you want for dinner. It is walking through the jungle with four eight year old girls, sucking on cacao fresh from the vine. It is swimming in the sea with your host sisters and listening to them sing Korean pop songs all night. It is teaching them that hijau is green in English with a handful of colored hair ties as props. It is your Ibu giving you her baby’s blanket to keep you warm. It is the sobs of that baby that keep you awake all night. It is the generosity of a stick of bug repelling incense and the beauty of baking together. It is her hug and watching her squeeze milk from a coconut. It is your father’s grace in the jungle and carving bows by his side. It is singing together under one roof. It is your Ibu offering you skirts and shoes to wear at church the next day. It is those quiet, special moments. It is the word keluarga. It is eating way too much just to make them happy. It is houses bursting with people. It is people touching your hair and your noise and your white skin and calling you beautiful. It is small gifts of nuts and pastries. It is your Ibu walking you to the outdoor squat toilet in the middle of the night by candlelight. It is her boiling hot water for you to bathe with. It is taking Polaroid pictures and giving away mosquito nets and old shoes. It is hearing your name called in greeting from every house when you walk down the street. It is finding space for a Mom and for and for an Ibu in your heart. It is Oise pushing a ticket collector out of the way on a crowded boat when asked for a ticket he didn't have. It is him embracing Ian and saying “I have to say goodbye to my son.” It is a 19 year old white boy from Florida telling us with tears in his eyes that he has fallen in love with the land and its people and with the strong, brown man he calls his father. It is feeling torn between Maluku and California or Pennsylvania or New York City. It is having a woman you’ve never met tell you that she is pregnant and is naming her child after you because she knows that your Ibu can’t live without a part of you still in Masihulan. It is saying goodbye. It is tears and aching hearts. It’s exchanging gifts and photos and saying sampai bertemu lagi, until we meet again, instead of goodbye. It is hugging your Bapak or your Ibu and seeing them cry too. It is hanging your hands out the window of the car as it is driving away to touch their fingers one last time. It is keeping their waving hands and sad smiles in your view for as long as possible, until they disappear behind a hill. It is feeling her pregnant belly and hearing her say your name and feeling the responsibility of being a namesake, and at the same time, the great honor of this gesture. It is the desire to return and the fear that it might never happen. It is love and sharing and crossing borders. It is special and unique and untouchable, untarnishable. It has changed us, each and every one of us, for the better, for good. Maluku is family.

Our group sat together for one of the last times on a darkened beach after sunset. The trees above reminded me of Masihulan and the sea sounded like Sampela and the lights reflecting on the water made me think of Bali. I thought of all these places, this whirlwind of elements, religions, locations, cultures, cuisines and people. And the one constant was this circle of 16 people. Soon that too would physically break apart, and the red string that is tied to each of our wrists will wear away. Some will stay in Indonesia; others go to London or America, to home or to college. Back to “real life”, though none of us really call it that. But we are still joined, from all corners of the globe, by this experience, these 42 days we shared. We are joined by all that is Bali. All that is Sulawesi. And all that is Maluku. Soon we are leaving, by car, plane and by boat. And each of us is heavier. In our packs are baskets and bows and soaps and incense. In our stomachs are realizations and new strength. In our heads are new thoughts and dreams and wisdom to share. And in our chests are hearts that have grown three times their size, hearts that beat for Indonesia.

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Indonesia: Studies in Culture, Conservation and Development, Summer 2012

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Di Maluku

Maya Jevans,Indonesia: Studies in Culture, Conservation and Development, Summer 2012

Description

In Maluku music is a constant. We’re sitting in jungle camp in the desolation of wilderness and I can hear our guide’s voices raised in song. They sit in a smoky wooden hut nearby, cooking and carving as they sing. I can’t see their faces, and I can’t pick their voices apart from the rope […]

Posted On

08/6/12

Author

Maya Jevans

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I am Indonesian.

You cannot tell this from my pointed nose, brown hair and eyes, pale white skin or my distinct American accent. You cannot see it in my family tree- you will find some fiery Irishmen and some charming Greeks though.

Where you can see it is in the love I hold for my country, and the pride I take in saying I have lived there. Or when I treat someone like family, even if we've only known eachother for a few weeks. Or, if you're lucky, you can hear it in the strange noises/ sounds I make, such as "aduh" "ngah" or "Ya-i-la-i-lah", that are seemingly for no reason, but to any other native mean something.

I've spent years trying to decide what one place I'm from, bouncing between Europe, the USA and Asia... But one thing that has never changed is the overwhelming sense of joy I get whenever a plane I'm in touches down in any part of Indonesia. I feel like I'm finally home, and I can suddenly relax and be "myself" again, and I feel like I suddenly have a good grasp on the world again. I'm no longer foreign.

Then comes the unfortunate moment when I realize that my skin is like white gold, and suddenly the tone of it is a defining factor; I am different. This is a quesy feeling that rushes over me, and I can sometimes become very withdrawn, but it is only a moment.

As soon as I am again greeted by a stranger in Indonesian, or a taxi driver asks if I want a ride anywhere and I can not only respond, but respond in indonesian, the quesiness is gone.

I say all of this, because one of the things that I have been able to take away from this trip, is a newfound adoration and love of my home country. I may not look the part, or sound like I belong, but there is a part of myself that has always belonged too, and in, Indonesia, and ever since I moved from Jakarta to Singapore, that part of myself that I hold so near and dear had dimmed.

I'd originally signed up for this Dragons program to challenge myself, and learn about Indonesia. What I had not counted on was finding new reasons to not only love Indonesia, but hope for a change in it too as I have also found out how it is not as perfect as I once thought it was.

The biggest lesson I'm taking from this trip? Home is not just a physical place anymore, it is something that we each can take with us wherever we go. Which is why I have the sense that this feeling of belonging I get when I am in Indonesia will stay with me as I continue on with my life. Because that's what happens when your in Indonesia, whether or not your Indonesian, White, or just plain foreign, you will always belong.

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Indonesia: Studies in Culture, Conservation and Development, Summer 2012

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Belonging.

Julia Marcou,Indonesia: Studies in Culture, Conservation and Development, Summer 2012

Description

I am Indonesian. You cannot tell this from my pointed nose, brown hair and eyes, pale white skin or my distinct American accent. You cannot see it in my family tree- you will find some fiery Irishmen and some charming Greeks though. Where you can see it is in the love I hold for my […]

Posted On

08/6/12

Author

Julia Marcou

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    [post_author] => 39
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    [post_date_gmt] => 1970-01-01 00:00:00
    [post_content] =>   

The ground pressed damp and cool against my feet as the sun glinted of the dew laden leaves and glowed in the misty morning air. Sweet, sticky pineapple juice ran down my face as I bit into another piece of fresh pineapple, cut from the semi-cultivated jungle garden. Tangy, bitter, overpowering clove burst on my tongue as I chewed a piece of straight clove, just cut from the plant. “Wait for what?” I howled as Sarah rubbed stinging, burning, invigorating, spiny plants over my legs. My heart skipped a beat as I turned around to find a massive spider inches from my face. I sipped cool, refreshing coconut water as I slumped in the shade of the tree Pache had just scaled to cut the coconuts from. The cicadas chirped and buzzed, seemingly in my ears, as I sat in perfect darkness watching glowbugs spiral through the trees. The darkness of the cave pressed against my eyes as the last of the headlamps was switched off, the lack of sight making room for other senses as the drip of water and the squeak of bats took over my consciousness. The cool river water burbled around my legs, flowed into my boots, and squelched with each step as I forded the river. These are a few of the unique sensations I experienced in the jungle in Masihulan.

[post_title] => Masihulan [post_excerpt] => [post_status] => publish [comment_status] => open [ping_status] => open [post_password] => [post_name] => masihulan [to_ping] => [pinged] => [post_modified] => 2012-08-05 00:00:00 [post_modified_gmt] => 1970-01-01 00:00:00 [post_content_filtered] => [post_parent] => 0 [guid] => http://yakyak.chandigarhsoftware.com/?p=40287 [menu_order] => 0 [post_type] => post [post_mime_type] => [comment_count] => 0 [filter] => raw [categories] => Array ( [0] => WP_Term Object ( [term_id] => 292 [name] => Indonesia: Studies in Culture, Conservation and Development, Summer 2012 [slug] => indonesia-studies-in-culture-conservation-and-development-summer-2012 [term_group] => 0 [term_taxonomy_id] => 292 [taxonomy] => category [description] => [parent] => 252 [count] => 46 [filter] => raw [term_order] => 15.1 [cat_ID] => 292 [category_count] => 46 [category_description] => [cat_name] => Indonesia: Studies in Culture, Conservation and Development, Summer 2012 [category_nicename] => indonesia-studies-in-culture-conservation-and-development-summer-2012 [category_parent] => 252 [link] => https://my.wheretherebedragons.com/category/summer-2012/indonesia-studies-in-culture-conservation-and-development-summer-2012/ ) ) [category_links] => Indonesia: Studies in Culture, Conservation and Development, Summer 2012 )

Indonesia: Studies in Culture, Conservation and Development, Summer 2012

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Masihulan

Ian Roche,Indonesia: Studies in Culture, Conservation and Development, Summer 2012

Description

The ground pressed damp and cool against my feet as the sun glinted of the dew laden leaves and glowed in the misty morning air. Sweet, sticky pineapple juice ran down my face as I bit into another piece of fresh pineapple, cut from the semi-cultivated jungle garden. Tangy, bitter, overpowering clove burst on my […]

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    [post_date] => 2012-08-05 00:00:00
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The four days in the jungle camp was, in my opinion, the best days on the trip. This was not only because of the time spent with the group, but also because of the interactions with our jungle guides. The guides were very knowledgeable about the issues with the government and how they were affected by corruption.

Some of the most memorable parts of the jungle was not some extravagant sight, but merely having the chance to play card games with the people who I only knew for a short amount of time. Just the fact of playing card games gave us a connection between each other. Every night they’ll play card games and even just watching them play is just as involved as playing.

Another thing that was striking was how they are able to maneuver with ease through the jungle barefooted. They do not even wobble or lose balance on rocks that have moss and are slippery. Even to a person with advanced hiking shoes on, I could never be able to clamber up the rock that they do. They even are capable to climb up and down trees with the greatest of ease. I know they are not showing off, but do this for survival, but I cant help feel a bit of envy of how much stamina they have and how they know the environment around them like its their own backyard. But in away, it kind of is their backyard. They have known this jungle since they were young and know how to survive in a land that is unknown and bewilders me. They know exactly where to go even if there isn’t a path and always know how to get back to the jungle camp.

It has been quiet unfortunate t hat for the past days in the jungle, a lot of them have been hiking through the rain, which was not always necessarily a bad thing, sometimes the rain would cool us of after long hours of hiking, and other times it would drench us. The only day that didn’t have rain was the last day.

I only have two more days here and then its back home. I imagine the feeling will taste bitter-sweet. It will be sweet being home with family after six weeks of being in Indonesia, but it will be bitter to leave the group which I have bonded to and have come to the point to which I view them as if they are my siblings. We sometimes get to the point where we get into arguments, but then forgive each other because there is no point to stay mad at each other for long periods of time. I’m going to miss the feeling of waking up and going to group meetings of what we are going to do the rest of the day. I will have to readapt to my normal life again, planning out my own day and not having the week already planned out and every day full with new and exciting things. But, I’m getting ahead of myself, I still have two days left here and I plan to make the most of it.

By the time this is posted I will probably be already home, so I will say this for ahead of time: This has been an amazing trip and I have done so much that i couldnt have organized and done on my own. I know some of my friends have already been asking me about it and are intrested on what I have learned and have experienced. I have got to say that I am glad I came and look foward to hopefully coming back on another dragons trip.

[post_title] => The Jungle and its people. [post_excerpt] => [post_status] => publish [comment_status] => open [ping_status] => open [post_password] => [post_name] => the-jungle-and-its-people [to_ping] => [pinged] => [post_modified] => 2012-08-05 00:00:00 [post_modified_gmt] => 1970-01-01 00:00:00 [post_content_filtered] => [post_parent] => 0 [guid] => http://yakyak.chandigarhsoftware.com/?p=40289 [menu_order] => 0 [post_type] => post [post_mime_type] => [comment_count] => 0 [filter] => raw [categories] => Array ( [0] => WP_Term Object ( [term_id] => 292 [name] => Indonesia: Studies in Culture, Conservation and Development, Summer 2012 [slug] => indonesia-studies-in-culture-conservation-and-development-summer-2012 [term_group] => 0 [term_taxonomy_id] => 292 [taxonomy] => category [description] => [parent] => 252 [count] => 46 [filter] => raw [term_order] => 15.1 [cat_ID] => 292 [category_count] => 46 [category_description] => [cat_name] => Indonesia: Studies in Culture, Conservation and Development, Summer 2012 [category_nicename] => indonesia-studies-in-culture-conservation-and-development-summer-2012 [category_parent] => 252 [link] => https://my.wheretherebedragons.com/category/summer-2012/indonesia-studies-in-culture-conservation-and-development-summer-2012/ ) ) [category_links] => Indonesia: Studies in Culture, Conservation and Development, Summer 2012 )

Indonesia: Studies in Culture, Conservation and Development, Summer 2012

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The Jungle and its people.

Rochelle Cohn,Indonesia: Studies in Culture, Conservation and Development, Summer 2012

Description

The four days in the jungle camp was, in my opinion, the best days on the trip. This was not only because of the time spent with the group, but also because of the interactions with our jungle guides. The guides were very knowledgeable about the issues with the government and how they were affected […]

Posted On

08/5/12

Author

Rochelle Cohn

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    [post_date] => 2012-08-05 00:00:00
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Change is a funny thing. It can be as subtle as the movement of a glacier or as intense as a caterpillar turning into an extravagant new creature. Some people are scared and will stray away from just a hint of change, while others are always looking for and counting on it. I remember the first week of my adventure with Dragons, stone cold and not ready to even budge an inch for change, unwilling to even admit that I even needed any of it. Looking back at it now I can’t help but laugh and smile at my ignorance. Some people think of change as adding onto a person, but I have learned on this trip that it is only layers of walls being broken down to show the radiance and beauty of something or someone. I have been peeled to my last layer in these past six weeks, feeling a new sense of self that I did not even know existed inside of me. From the basic things like making more thoughtful and reflected decisions to the more deep like values of compassion and patience. Every inch and ounce of my body has experienced a level of change sometime on this enrapturing voyage I’ve taken part in and I can honestly say that I’m a better and stronger man for it. If someone as resistant and stubborn as me can feel a complete one hundred and eighty degree turn in their lives, I believe there’s hope for even the most evil and melancholy people in this world. What I have gone through and challenges I have faced have reshaped me as human being, one that knows there’s more in this world than the little bubble we live in at home and that every person has stories worth telling and passing on. Change really is a funny thing, but also one of the most powerful and amazing things if it’s put into the right hands.

P.S.- I miss you Mom and Dad, and sorry this is my first and only Yak Yak. I’ll see you soon though!

[post_title] => Change [post_excerpt] => [post_status] => publish [comment_status] => open [ping_status] => open [post_password] => [post_name] => change [to_ping] => [pinged] => [post_modified] => 2016-02-08 16:17:16 [post_modified_gmt] => 2016-02-08 23:17:16 [post_content_filtered] => [post_parent] => 0 [guid] => http://yakyak.chandigarhsoftware.com/?p=40291 [menu_order] => 0 [post_type] => post [post_mime_type] => [comment_count] => 0 [filter] => raw [categories] => Array ( [0] => WP_Term Object ( [term_id] => 36 [name] => Best Notes From The Field [slug] => best-notes-from-the-field [term_group] => 0 [term_taxonomy_id] => 36 [taxonomy] => category [description] => These pieces of travel writing are reflections by students and instructors traveling all over the world. They exemplify the open-minded spirit of exploration and self-discovery on a Dragons course. [parent] => 0 [count] => 504 [filter] => raw [term_order] => 0 [cat_ID] => 36 [category_count] => 504 [category_description] => These pieces of travel writing are reflections by students and instructors traveling all over the world. They exemplify the open-minded spirit of exploration and self-discovery on a Dragons course. [cat_name] => Best Notes From The Field [category_nicename] => best-notes-from-the-field [category_parent] => 0 [link] => https://my.wheretherebedragons.com/category/best-notes-from-the-field/ ) [1] => WP_Term Object ( [term_id] => 292 [name] => Indonesia: Studies in Culture, Conservation and Development, Summer 2012 [slug] => indonesia-studies-in-culture-conservation-and-development-summer-2012 [term_group] => 0 [term_taxonomy_id] => 292 [taxonomy] => category [description] => [parent] => 252 [count] => 46 [filter] => raw [term_order] => 15.1 [cat_ID] => 292 [category_count] => 46 [category_description] => [cat_name] => Indonesia: Studies in Culture, Conservation and Development, Summer 2012 [category_nicename] => indonesia-studies-in-culture-conservation-and-development-summer-2012 [category_parent] => 252 [link] => https://my.wheretherebedragons.com/category/summer-2012/indonesia-studies-in-culture-conservation-and-development-summer-2012/ ) ) [category_links] => Best Notes From The Field, Indonesia: Studies in Culture, Conservation and Development, Summer 2012 )

Best Notes From The Field, Indonesia: Studies in Culture, Conservation and Development, Summer 2012

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Change

Evan Moynahan,Best Notes From The Field, Indonesia: Studies in Culture, Conservation and Development, Summer 2012

Description

Change is a funny thing. It can be as subtle as the movement of a glacier or as intense as a caterpillar turning into an extravagant new creature. Some people are scared and will stray away from just a hint of change, while others are always looking for and counting on it. I remember the […]

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    [post_author] => 39
    [post_date] => 2012-08-05 00:00:00
    [post_date_gmt] => 1970-01-01 00:00:00
    [post_content] =>                

When many of my friends and family heard about my trip this summer one of the first words that probably popped into their heads was vacation but now after almost 6 weeks of being in Indonesia I have realized that my trip was not a vacation. My experience with dragons was in fact the exact opposite of vacation but rather what i would call a deep exploration into the people, culture, ideas and homes of another country that despite its hardships at times contains rewards that were unbelievable and irreplaceable. I have realized now and always that my definition of travel and even my definition of experience was not what I wanted it to be. My new definition of those words has now been derived from what I have seen, heard, done and felt in my time in Indonesia.

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Indonesia: Studies in Culture, Conservation and Development, Summer 2012

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Travel

Riley Burns,Indonesia: Studies in Culture, Conservation and Development, Summer 2012

Description

When many of my friends and family heard about my trip this summer one of the first words that probably popped into their heads was vacation but now after almost 6 weeks of being in Indonesia I have realized that my trip was not a vacation. My experience with dragons was in fact the exact […]

Posted On

08/5/12

Author

Riley Burns

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    [post_date] => 2012-08-04 00:00:00
    [post_date_gmt] => 1970-01-01 00:00:00
    [post_content] => 

Hello to all friends and family,

We have emmerged froma transformative and eye-openingtime in the village Masihulan and4 days of adventure injungle camp.

We are on the island of Ambon and flying back to Bali tomorrow for our final few days of course. It's hard to believe that our trip is drawing to a close.

Please stay tuned for some thoughtful Yaksfrom Masihulanand final reflections from thestudents on August 6th after we return to Bali....

Warmly, The IndonesiaI-team

[post_title] => Out of the Jungle [post_excerpt] => [post_status] => publish [comment_status] => open [ping_status] => open [post_password] => [post_name] => out-of-the-jungle [to_ping] => [pinged] => [post_modified] => 2012-08-04 00:00:00 [post_modified_gmt] => 1970-01-01 00:00:00 [post_content_filtered] => [post_parent] => 0 [guid] => http://yakyak.chandigarhsoftware.com/?p=40310 [menu_order] => 0 [post_type] => post [post_mime_type] => [comment_count] => 0 [filter] => raw [categories] => Array ( [0] => WP_Term Object ( [term_id] => 292 [name] => Indonesia: Studies in Culture, Conservation and Development, Summer 2012 [slug] => indonesia-studies-in-culture-conservation-and-development-summer-2012 [term_group] => 0 [term_taxonomy_id] => 292 [taxonomy] => category [description] => [parent] => 252 [count] => 46 [filter] => raw [term_order] => 15.1 [cat_ID] => 292 [category_count] => 46 [category_description] => [cat_name] => Indonesia: Studies in Culture, Conservation and Development, Summer 2012 [category_nicename] => indonesia-studies-in-culture-conservation-and-development-summer-2012 [category_parent] => 252 [link] => https://my.wheretherebedragons.com/category/summer-2012/indonesia-studies-in-culture-conservation-and-development-summer-2012/ ) ) [category_links] => Indonesia: Studies in Culture, Conservation and Development, Summer 2012 )

Indonesia: Studies in Culture, Conservation and Development, Summer 2012

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Out of the Jungle

I-team,Indonesia: Studies in Culture, Conservation and Development, Summer 2012

Description

Hello to all friends and family, We have emmerged froma transformative and eye-openingtime in the village Masihulan and4 days of adventure injungle camp. We are on the island of Ambon and flying back to Bali tomorrow for our final few days of course. It’s hard to believe that our trip is drawing to a close. […]

WP_Post Object
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    [ID] => 40360
    [post_author] => 39
    [post_date] => 2012-07-30 00:00:00
    [post_date_gmt] => 1970-01-01 00:00:00
    [post_content] => 

Dear Families and Friends,

The group has been having a wonderful homestay experience in the village of Masihulan, located on the north side of Seram island in Maluku province. Masihulan is a community perched on the edge of a vast stand of primary growth rainforest. The community has adapted to subsistence farming, mostly "sago" palm and root vegetables, but the men still hunt and gather in the jungles that are their backyard. Students have been busy with activities from sago harvesting, cacao collection, palm basket weaving, cocount harvests, cave hikes, and more.

Yesterday, they left Masihulan on river canoes to head upstream into the jungle where they'll be camped at a primitive hut for the next 4 days. During their entire time in Masihulan and the jungle, communication has been limited, which is why there has been few Yak updates the past days. Please know that I have remained in regular contact with the team via SAT phone and cell phone communication and all is well in the field.

All the best,

Aaron Slosberg

[post_title] => Off to the jungle! [post_excerpt] => [post_status] => publish [comment_status] => open [ping_status] => open [post_password] => [post_name] => off-to-the-jungle [to_ping] => [pinged] => [post_modified] => 2012-07-30 00:00:00 [post_modified_gmt] => 1970-01-01 00:00:00 [post_content_filtered] => [post_parent] => 0 [guid] => http://yakyak.chandigarhsoftware.com/?p=40360 [menu_order] => 0 [post_type] => post [post_mime_type] => [comment_count] => 0 [filter] => raw [categories] => Array ( [0] => WP_Term Object ( [term_id] => 292 [name] => Indonesia: Studies in Culture, Conservation and Development, Summer 2012 [slug] => indonesia-studies-in-culture-conservation-and-development-summer-2012 [term_group] => 0 [term_taxonomy_id] => 292 [taxonomy] => category [description] => [parent] => 252 [count] => 46 [filter] => raw [term_order] => 15.1 [cat_ID] => 292 [category_count] => 46 [category_description] => [cat_name] => Indonesia: Studies in Culture, Conservation and Development, Summer 2012 [category_nicename] => indonesia-studies-in-culture-conservation-and-development-summer-2012 [category_parent] => 252 [link] => https://my.wheretherebedragons.com/category/summer-2012/indonesia-studies-in-culture-conservation-and-development-summer-2012/ ) ) [category_links] => Indonesia: Studies in Culture, Conservation and Development, Summer 2012 )

Indonesia: Studies in Culture, Conservation and Development, Summer 2012

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Off to the jungle!

Aaron Slosberg,Indonesia: Studies in Culture, Conservation and Development, Summer 2012

Description

Dear Families and Friends, The group has been having a wonderful homestay experience in the village of Masihulan, located on the north side of Seram island in Maluku province. Masihulan is a community perched on the edge of a vast stand of primary growth rainforest. The community has adapted to subsistence farming, mostly "sago" palm […]

Posted On

07/30/12

Author

Aaron Slosberg

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