Waking up to a day of preparation, packing, for a week of unpredictable travel and socializing… opportunities, obligations, the whole spectrum between those. Travel through Java is a constant cultural puzzle that hits all my anxiety pressure points. I will always stand out, the tall foreign woman with blazing blonde hair. What to wear, how much skin to cover, when to make eye contact, whether it’s ok to smile. If I look weird. (I always look weird!) Words that abandon me as soon as I need them.
Language is a survival skill. I rely on my words, more even than I know. Words are my resource and letting go of language is a profound surrender. Being in the woods at night, how your ears pick up every sound, my ears pick out words from the Java language. A complex language with multiple levels of formality, even simple things have multiple words, are socially complex. I piece together situations, relationships, themes. I test out learned words on closest family. Where failure results only in minor embarassment! They are affectionate, they cheer me on. Ah, I am a babe again.
There is something challenging and healthy about all this, I firmly believe, it’s also enjoyable. I just have to awaken my appetite for adventure. A new trick this trip, we have gotten out “the good camera”. Getting behind a lens is like the first dip into a cold pool, but once in, it can be a very nice place. The world as image, not as constant, living demand. The camera speaks and says, I am not here for words. (To be determined, how successful this is here, where social demand is forceful, loud, strong. Doesn’t always take “no” for an answer.)
It also helps to wear a scarf. I discovered this last trip. Not as hijab, (at least not in the usual sense), and usually not covering my hair, but as a protective presence. Something that can be adjusted to fit different situations. Again, like a babe, with a blanket. But a blanket can be very good armor! Portable psychic cozy.