2014’s been a hell of a year – and it’s only February 3rd.
Stats for the first 23 days of the year: four countries visited, three US
states, all four hemispheres, six hotels; 13 individual flight segments (mostly
late), one landing in Orlando to deplane a sick passenger, three Amtrak rides
plus two British Rail, one 3-hour cab ride, two flights boarded and then
deplaned for delays, one instance of delayed luggage; four talks given on three
topics, four class sessions taught in two languages, too many interviews, too
little sleep, two blizzards and one polar vortex. Push the window back to include
the final days of December and you can add a wedding and one more hotel to the
list. I’m still sleeping it all off. At least out here in Indonesia
I can do so without freezing half to death.
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| Grass skirts, cell phones. |
I’m afraid my documentation of last year’s trip ended rather
abruptly. Long story short: I caught malaria a second time over Christmas (I
think I wrote that bit down?), flew out, spent a day in Makassar eagerly
speaking English with A-, met my aunt & uncle in Kuala Lumpur, headed out
to Borneo, hiked around Kucing, saw some orangutans, dove in Mabul/Sipidan for
a week, saw a crapton of sharks (and an orangutan crab), felt vaguely crappy
and post-malarial the whole time, went home, felt really crappy, and slept it
off for about a month. The photos are all on Facebook and Picasa (or whatever
that’s evolved into) if you’re interested.
But this trip! I was supposed to fly in on the 15th, but a
last-minute trip to New Hampshire
(two of the three Amtrak rides) pushed that back to the 17th. So a particular
guardian angel drove me to JFK, from whence I flew to Hong Kong, then to Bali
(delayed), got a hotel in Kuta to catch a few hours sleep since the ramen from
the Hong Kong airport rather disagreed with me, 2am flight to Jayapura via
Timika, and from there to Manokwari, where I checked into the fanciest hotel in
town and went the fuck to sleep. I thought I’d been lucky to get an exit row on
those last few legs, but on Garuda apparently those seats don’t lean back, so
it was an unpleasantly awake few hours flying east. 50 hours door to door, give
or take? This is why I usually take a few days in Bali
en route.
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| Found on the porch. |
I’d messaged Ibu Min in advance about staying in my usual
room but didn’t get a reply, so I figured she was full up and booked a week at
the Swiss Belhotel, complete with hot showers and free wifi. On Monday, the
first day of the conference, Sonja (who’s staying at Ibu Min’s too) said my
room was all made up and they were wondering where I was, so on Tuesday I
moved. Much better to be with the family, more comfortable, better food,
friendlier; and since the hotel was prepaid for the week I held onto the key
and swung by most afternoons for hot showers and internet and a little peace
and quiet (two toddlers in the house makes for a noisy day, especially since
one of them is Jhio, whose favorite pastimes are yelling, making noise, and
throwing things). Not a bad setup at all, for as long as it lasted. It’s bule central around here now, with four
of us in the house and two more moved in next door. It’s weird having this many
around the university too. I’m not used to speaking this much English out here.
The conference was fun, and I met a bunch of people whose
work on related languages I’d read. Good people to know all around. My talk
went well – slides are on my website in case you care about antepenultimate
stress shift in Wamesa. Tuesday there was dinner at a Manadonese restaurant
where dog and bat were served – I can now say from experience that dog is too
chewy, bat is full of tiny bones, and pork tastes better than either (though
the spicing was quite nice). Wednesday was a boat trip out to Pulau Mansinam,
and island in the bay here, where we all went swimming and ate taro and fish and
yams from a campfire and got sunburns. The real fun was Wednesday night, at the
conference banquet. The pouring rain ruled out the original plan of having it
on the beach, but the Rektor of the university kindly offered his Rektorate, so
we ate babi guling (spit-roasted pig) in a shiny new white-tile building with
only three tables and not a speck of dirt anywhere. After were traditional
dance performances from two local groups, and then a lip-synching performance
by a group of waria (transvestites,
but mostly with top surgery) in tight glittery mini-dresses and platform boots.
Probably the worst drag show I’ve ever seen – it would’ve helped if they’d at
least known the words. It went on too long, but the embarrassed looks on the
faces of all the middle-aged westerners in the audience almost made it worth
it. Maybe if I’d had a bintang or two.
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| khas Papua |
What else… the conference ended Friday; Saturday I met up
with Ibu Ice for the first time and Sunday was lazy. Virgine took Sonja and
Laura and I out to eat coto (a Makassarese beef soup) at a warung in Marina.
I ordered just plain meat, but ended up with chunks of lung and liver and tripe
and lord knows what else in my bowl. How very generous of them. Om Jemmy caught
a giant tarantula outside the house, and Cousin Gary brought Dunkin Donuts from
Jayapura. Monday and Tuesday I taught phonetics and phonology to a group of
Unipa undergrads and started Wamesa elicitation in earnest. The head-mounted
mic I bought won’t work with my recorder despite the adaptor and the website’s
claims that it doesn’t need phantom power, but Laura’s lending me her recorder
that takes xlr input directly, though that’s old enough to have its own
hiccups. So when it decides to actually record I get lovely clear spectrograms,
and when it tells me its recording but really it’s not (cough yesterday) I get
the files from my little H2, which I’m running as backup. I’m nearly through my
list of questions, and still a week to go. Will have to think of more.
On Thursday I went back to Mansinam with the fieldwork
masterclass Nick Evans is running for grad students. Mostly I’ve been too busy
with my own work, but I sat in on a few lectures, and I wanted to see the
walk-and-talk on the island. Turns out a lot of van Balen’s family is buried
there, which is huge if you’re from Windesi but nobody else seems to have heard
of him (Dutch missionary, late 1800’s, did the Wamesa bible and hymn
translations). Otto and Geissler, the first to land on Mansinam and Manokwari,
are much bigger here. On the 5th is a holiday celebrating their arrival, with
dance performances and boats and church services all out on Mansinam. Huge
deal. There’ve been parades and dancing and drumming downtown all week, though
I’ve missed most of it. Maybe tomorrow.
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| At Mansinam. |
Saturday I dropped some cloth off at the tailor’s to have a
skirt made and discovered that my ATM card had gone missing (so far no
unauthorized purchases, thank god). Never dull here in Papua.
I haven’t climbed any volcanoes yet, but I did drive up some
mountains yesterday. Yesterday at 3:30am the four of us – me Sonja, Laura, and
Freya – plus Ibu Min, Virgine, cousin Ela, and a friend, piled into a Hilux
pickup truck and drove through the Arfak mountains to Mt. Anggi. The first hour
was paved, though with all the swerving and honking and accelerating and
braking that comes with driving in Indonesia.
The second hour wasn’t, and by that point I was nauseous as hell despite the
Dramamine, and all three girls in the pickup bed were puking. The road was a
mess, all ruts and rocks and giant potholes and bridgeless river crossings up
and down through the clouds with jungle on one side and dropoffs on the other,
and we were all getting tossed around like rag dolls in the cab. Around sunrise
we stopped for a break and I ate a faux-Nutella sandwich and took some stronger
drugs, and from there on out was able to enjoy the views, though Virgine and
Ela kept puking for a few more hours. The mountains were stunning, and many
pictures were taken. Around 9am (after
plenty of pee-and-photo breaks) the driver pulled over and said we’d reached
the top of Gunung Anggi, so we all piled out and took some more pictures. The
landscape out there was sparer than lower down – lots of lichen, no trees.
Reminded me of northern Scotland
or the interior of Naxos. From up there we overlooked
two lakes, Danau Perempuan (Woman Lake)
to one side and Danau Laki-laki (Lake
Man) to the other. After a bit we
drove back down and had lunch by the shore
of Danau Laki-laki and I had a nap
on the beach, and a good burn in the sun. It was chilly up there to begin with,
maybe mid-50’s, but with the sun the fog broke and it started to warm up. From
there back in the car, back towards home with a stop at Menyambo village to buy
a gigantic bag of passionfruits fresh from the trees. We got home just after
four, and once again I had a mandi
and went the fuck to sleep.
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| somewhere in the Arfaks |
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