Jungle Jane?

OK, so as everybody knows I am terrified of animals. However, I felt that since I was spending a whole year in Borneo, I couldn't not go see the orangutans. I decided to go with six other people because I always feel there is safety in numbers. I figure if there is an animal disaster, they might get someone else first, giving me time to make a speedy getaway. I enjoyed snorkeling much better the last time because there were 20 other people on the trip ten of whom were senior citizens. I figured this gave me a better than average chance of not ending up shark food.

After a very bumpy flight on a plane from the 1980s [on which I was not very calm and spent a fair amount of time closing my eyes and whimpering] my friends and I arrived in the West of Borneo to meet our guide. Since the town we landed in was a dry town our first stop was to an off the grid karaoke bar where we could buy some beers for our 3 day trip for a very inflated price. I don't think I was alone in thinking that it would be better to have some beer for our journey into the jungles of Borneo to go see giant animals.

We then boarded a boat like this one which would take us into the National Park. Our guide and our crew prepared us 3 meals a day plus snacks served up top and prepared our mats each night under mosquito nets. There were times where it felt a little more like a Merchant and Ivory film and a little less like a keeping it real jungle adventure, but this was more than fine with me. I am not an outdoors man. Besides, it made me feel like David Lee Roth who according to Crazy Like The Heat looked death in the eye while on a river boat in the Amazon Jungle and I love Diamond Dave. Lots.

This was the first thing I saw upon our arrival at the park. Since I had no plans of being eaten by a crocodile or being attacked by an orangutan I had no problems following all of these rules. Especially since you just follow you guide to a feeding station in the jungle and wait for the orangutans to show up. There are no cages of fences, things I usually like when huge animals are present. Yes, I know they are considered mellow animals, but they are also incredibly big and strong. I totally agree with Chris Rock's assessment of the Sigfried and Roy tiger attack: The tiger didn't go crazy. The tiger went tiger! Besides, I have always heard that when animals can sense your fear, it's a bad thing.

Our guide told us that a decade ago Julia Roberts had visited the park. During her visit she met this guy:

This guy is Tom, The King of the Orangutans. He is huge. Apparently, when Julia spotted him she decided NOT to follow the rules about touching. Instead, she decided to walk up to Tom and put her hand on his shoulder. I am sure she was thinking "I'm JULIA ROBERTS, I'm sure Tom would LOVE to meet me." Well, being the King and all, Tom grabbed her right back. All of the rangers freaked out and one of them had to pour hot water on Tom to get him to release her. Now, since I have never won an Oscar or been in any of the top grossing films of all time or dated Kiefer Sutherland, I was pretty sure that if Tom decided to grab me, I might be on my own. I would be a little easier to lose. Besides, the only thing my guide had by way of a weapon was a purple umbrella with ruffles. As a result, when Tom showed up and they told us to back up because sometimes he is trouble, I was the first one to back up and I backed up the farthest. I wanted to give Tom as much space as possible.

I didn't mind getting a little closer to this one since she seemed very busy eating her snack. Besides, I needed at least a couple pictures to prove to my Mom that I actually went on the trip. Understandably, she had a little trouble envisioning me on a jungle cruise heading towards a monkey park. Let's just say that I didn't get the best pictures in the group. That would have required getting a little closer than I was willing to. I guess I can cross wildlife photographer off my list of possible professions.

All in all, they weren't actually that menacing and at times even I thought they were pretty adorable. However, I was not sorry to get back to civilization after our 3 day cruise came to and end. I still think nature is pretty scary.

Somebody Call 911!!!

This Valentine's Day police in Malaysia detained 80 Muslims as as part of Ops Valentine. According to Muslim, or Shariah, Law, it is illegal for unmarried couples to be alone in secluded areas or confined spaces. During Ops Valentine, Malaysian police raided lakes, public parks, and budget hotels. The couples were charged with "close proximity" and offered counseling and religious guidance. However, the same crimes can land a naughty couple up to 2 years in jail. This sorta helped put my own Valentine's Day in perspective. While it did not end up to be very romantical [although I did have a lovely dinner on a rooftop with friends], at least I did not finish the night in the big house.

It does not seem as if Indonesians are quite as serious about the close proximity law, but 6 people were arrested on New Year's Eve for sexy dancing [and face up to 15 years in prison] and the lead singer of the rock band Peter Pan just got 3 1/2 years in jail for making a sex tape [imagine being without Paris, Pam, Kim, or all of the members of Motley Crue and Poison for more than 3 whole years???], so I decided to do a little investigating.

From what my students said it is possible for suspicious neighbors to call the police if they think there is any unlawful hanky panky going on in your home or at a hotel. When the police arrive the couple can be given two options. They can get married or go to the police station. There was some difference of opinion about how common this is. Some said it is pretty common and others said it was only common in certain areas like the province of Aceh where they also have Shariah Law. One teacher I spoke to said that it was very common ten years ago, but now it is used more of a scare tactic to make sure girls don't get pregnant out of wedlock.

I started to think about how women would react if such a law went into effect in NYC. I have a sneaking suspicion that many women my age bracket might not have such a problem with it. Imagine how easy? All you would have to do would be to drop a few hints to your neighbor: "My boyfriend is coming over tonight. I sure hope he doesn't miss the last train back to Greenpoint..." or "I sure do get lonely at night sometimes... I hope I'm never tempted to let Mr. Has Not Popped The Question Yet stay over". The rest would simply take care of it's self:

1. A Knock at the Door

2. "Open up, Mam. It's the NYPD"

3. "Ok, babe. Here's the deal. The police are outside. I have NO idea how they knew you were here. But it looks like you have two options. Either we get married tonight, or you take a two year trip to Rikers. What's it going to be?"

I'm pretty sure that the marriage rates of skaters, bartenders, and musicians in Williamsburg, The Mission, and Echo Park would skyrocket.

One For Nana Banana

After my mother told me that my aunt "puts my blog up on the machine" for my Nana to see, I figured maybe I would try post something that wasn't about things women insert into their private parts, accidental lesbianesque beach vacations, taking a bath with one of my girlfriends, or having a bad case of the sexual stupids. My Nana used to accuse me of being a "freshie" when I was a little girl, but it's been many years since I graduated to straight up Fresh. I figured I could kill two birds with one stone by posting some pictures my Nana might like and proving that I am not just a pervert. I also go see World Heritage Sites and take guided tours of famous temples.

First, I decided to get straight and meditate like a Buddhist [Miss Molly Hardy, have I ever thanked you for introducing me to Straight Outta Compton back in '98? I know it's ironic that I had to travel to Dublin to discover gangsta rap from a Catholic Schoolgirl from DC, but I am soooo glad that I did. A lady can NOT live on Indie Rock alone. So, thank you muchly. I firmly believe that people who dislike all hip hop also dislike laughing and fun, clearly not a category I was meant to fall under] at the Borobudur Temple outside of Jogyjakarta on the island of Java near Mt. Merapi, the volcano that erupted this fall. It was pretty gorgeous and my friends Jackie and Julianne and I arrived at 6.30 am before it got too hot.

Next, we went to the Prambanan Hindu Temple dedicated to the Hindu God Shiva. The temple is also know as the "slender virgin" because it resembles a slender virgin. I'm not sure I really see it, but who am I to say? The reliefs on the temples tell the story of Ramayana. These temples were beautiful to, but by the time we got there the sun was super hot. I raced up each set of stairs to rest for a while in the shrines at the top which were a bit cooler. Overall, I was a very good tourist this day. Nana Banana, you're welcome. Love, Katie

Vagina Chalk

This weekend I visited my friend in Jogjakarta and we took a Jamu Tour. Jamus are women who make traditional medicines for a variety of ailments. At the end of the tour our guide showed us the sexy Jamus. In this picture, I am not holding a cigar. I am holding a stick of vagina chalk. Women insert this for 15 seconds in order to make themselves drier down south. It's called "A Worldly Stick of Joy" on the package. I have some very big doubts about this. I know I have been out of the game for a while, but I was always under the impression that this was a less than ideal state of affairs while trying to do the deed. In Indonesian, however, many women fear that their partner will lose interest and find a younger, more virginal woman if they don't use some chalk in order to make sex drier. Women are also cautioned against eating pineapple and cucumber because it will make them "bikin becek" [make wet]. This sounds like a pretty no fun situation for everyone involved.

For the wealthier, more sophisticated Indonesian lady there is another option: The Vagina Spa. A trip to the V Spa includes bathing in a mixture of herbs, an intimate massage, and a vagina smoking. A vagina smoking is done by sitting on a chair with a large hole in it while a clay pot filled with coals that have been sprinkled with herbs burns underneath. The website of the fanciest V Spa in Jakarta states that the herbs are meant to "reduce moisture, return vitality, and give a sensation of virginity". Great! I could not just experience physical pain, but also feel totally uncertain and awkward just like the first time all over again!

Another Lady Jamu

The expression Don't Knock It Until You've Tried It did run through my head. I considered trying to make a visit to a V Spa in the name of research and cultural awareness and to see for myself what exactly all of this malarkey is all about. However, I then thought that perhaps my lady parts have been bummed out enough during my sojourn into the jungle of a Muslim nation and that they didn't need any extra stress, especially stress involving hot coals. I wouldn't want to risk them trying to make a break for it in search of new home where they might be able to find some more positive attention.

After learning about the chalk and the V Spa I felt that perhaps I am not truly addressing the needs of my students. Instead of passing out copies of the book called Celebrations which details the magic of Christmas and the Native American tradition of the Pow Wow, I should be passing out copies of this book:

Dan Savage!

[nationally syndicated sex columnist]

Annie Sprinkle!

[sexologist]

Get over here ASAP! Your services are really, really needed. The people of Indonesia need your help in turning up the sexy in a serious way. However, the ladies of Indonesia should be thankful they are not from Sub-Sahara Africa. Apparently ladies there use chillies, bleach, and gunpowder to maintain their downstairs and make sure their manfriends keep coming back for more. Oh, my. I hope Dan and Annie have some time to stop by there as well.

Red Headed Step Child #2

Instead of inheriting my father's height, athleticism, or slim build, I inherited his bad attitude, ability to almost effortlessly grind people's gears [I'm pretty sure I made my less than mentally stable boss break out into angry red hives all over her face and neck simply by using a blank stare during a meeting once. While I would be lying if I said this did not bring me a certain feeling of satisfaction, I would probably get more out of a skill like being good at math], and his prematurely graying hair. Oh genetics! I've been told that once upon a time he had straight, dark hair. However, sometime in his early twenties it began to turn white and kinky. Within a few years the straight, dark hair was replaced by a white Afro. Luckily, this was the 70's when Afros were cool, even for white dudes.

I have lived in fear of the white Afro for years. I knew that I would not fair so well with a similar hair situation. Many, many women find bad attitudes, problems with intimacy, and the ability to enjoy a good drink a pretty intoxicating combination in a man. Therefore, having a white Afro never got in my father's way of finding many nice ladyfriends. Unfortunately, James Brown really knew what he was talking about when he sang "It's a man's, man's world". Sadly, something in me just knew that most guys would not find a lady with those same qualities quite as alluring. As soon as I noticed the first couple of white, kinky hairs I knew that I had only two options if I ever wanted any chance of attracting any beaus:

1. Run as fast as my two legs could carry me to the nearest salon

2. Shave my head a start wearing a good wig

Even as an old-timey fag hag, I felt that perhaps I lacked the necessary flair for option number 2 and decided to go with finding a good colorist. I am generally not all that careful about my appearance. I don't buy fancy clothes, I almost never wear heels, and I wear lots of sweatshirts. However, I throw down almost $200 every other month to keep that white Afro at bay. I have always felt that it is was more than worth the investment.

Since moving to a nation where I don't speak the language I have avoided getting my hair done. I went only once to a fancy salon in Jakarta and got my roots done. However, they left the color in for two long and I seem to be shedding more than usual since then. Although I am terrified of the white Afro, I don't think baldness would be a better option. I put it off for as long as I could until my hair began to resemble a combination of these two people:

While I am pretty convinced that Patti Smith is the coolest lady of all time and I greatly admire George Clooney's work in Darfur, it was really not a cute look for me. This was made worse by the fact that I have taken a pretty serious beating with the ugly stick since moving to Indonesia. My mom always told me that you look good for yourself, not other people. Apparently, this does not hold true for me. Since I arrived in a nation where dating is basically not an option, I have pretty much stopped paying attention to my appearance. Sometimes I catch a glimpse of my reflection and say to myself "Really? You felt like it was OK to leave the house looking like this?". [Yes, I used to run errands in Brooklyn in my yoga pants, but I NEVER left the house without wearing concealer and some mascara.] I figured at least I could get my hair fixed, before I started to really loose control over the situation.

I wasn't that nervous about it since I just wanted a simple single process color. My mom's colorist/good friend had given me some hair dye before I left and told me not to worry since the method of dying hair is pretty much universal. Apparently, this does not hold true for chain salons at the mall in Borneo. Perhaps, I should have seen this one coming...

The first clue that something was not right was when I showed them the hair dye I brought with me. They said it didn't look like enough to color my whole head. I said you have to mix it and they looked at me like they had no idea what I could possibly mean. This is probably when I should have left. Unfortunately, my vanity got the better of me. The vision of having a head full of brown hair was dancing in my head and I told myself it would probably work out fine.

They took out their swatches of hair color and I chose a dark brown. The colorist started in the back, so I couldn't see what she was up to back there. By the time she made her way up to the front of my head I saw the dye was purple like you use when dying a person's hair blond. Sadly, by this time it was too late and I was already on my way to becoming a strawberry blond.

[Here I am contemplating my new life as strawberry blond #22. Am I wearing make-up? Nope. Did I brush my hair this morning? Not really. Am I in public? For sure. Can you see why the fear of the white Afro was even a little stronger than usual?]

The problem with this is, I really hate red hair. When I think of red hair I don't think of Joan from Mad Men, Agent Scully, a pre-rehab Lindsay Lohan, or a young Anne Margaret. I think of this guy:

And this guy gives me the shivers.

I would try to go get it fixed, but I'm afraid that it could get worse. Part of the reason my hair is shedding so much is not just because of too much hair dye, it's also because of the harsh water here. The pharmacy shelves are full of shampoos to prevent "hair fall" which makes me hesitant to put anything else in my hair. So I might just have to ride out the rest of the year as a strawberry blond and tell my little brother Michael [yes, we have THE SAME name] to watch out since he is no longer the only red headed step child in town. Either that, or I might start shopping for a good wig.