A couple of years ago, I decided it was high time for a mid-life crisis. You usually don’t have to work hard to find a crisis, because they’re always out there, lurking in the bushes, looking for opportunities to kick butt. In my case, it wasn’t happening, so I decided to be pro-active.
Approaching my 50th birthday, I realized my comfort zone had become too stagnant. I decided to move to another city just to see what would happen. So, in late August of 2007, after quitting my job and selling off most of my possessions, I moved to Jakarta, Indonesia.
Why Jakarta? After looking for an opportunity to teach English overseas for about a year, I saw an ad on the Internet looking for teachers at a school in Jakarta, so I thought I’d give it a shot.
What I knew about Jakarta and Indonesia was third-hand information from a friend in the Philippines. My friend told me that I would probably meet a beautiful Indonesian woman, get married and have a baby within a year. Yeah, right. But I believed it anyway. Like I said, I was looking for a crisis. I was also intrigued by Elizabeth Gilbert’s book, “Eat, Pray and Love.” HOWEVER – and this is a BIG however – Ms. Gilbert’s experience in Indonesia was primarily on the island of Bali, a mostly Hindu outpost situated in the midst of the most populous Muslim country in the world. And her time there was spent mostly in Ubud, a lovely city I found to be like a small San Francisco with an abundance of art galleries, restaurants and yoga studios. The majority of MY time was spent in Jakarta, on the island of Java.
As anyone will tell you, Indonesians are a wonderful, welcoming people. They’re very friendly and give the impression of being happy all the time. But despite the warm nature of the country, I found Jakarta to be a dirty ramshackle metropolis of about 10 to 15 million people. The traffic, referred to as “macet,” was so horrendous, I thought it should be re-classified as one of Dante’s Rings of Hell. There has been very little urban planning because Indonesia still thinks in terms of being a village, where houses, businesses and even roads spring up almost on a whim.
There’s a great deal of poverty and a lot of begging on the street. When I asked someone about it, I was told that begging was actually considered a job. What generally happens is that poor people and people with noticeable medical problems are bused in from the villages and assigned a street corner where they beg for money. At the end of the day, some shadowy “agency” takes them back to their village and takes a cut of whatever they earned.
I also found the things we take for granted in the U.S., such as zoning laws and health regulations, either don’t exist or are simply not enforced. A lot of food is sold on the street, and it isn’t unusual to buy food from a “warung,” or food stand, that’s set up next to an open sewer. I was told that it was relatively safe to eat the food, which I knew probably wasn’t true. But I was hungry, so I ate it anyway.
A few hours later, my face broke out with red blotches and my lower intestine began to do a parasitic slam dance. Aside from food poisoning, I was afraid I might have Dengue Fever, which is spread by mosquitoes and can lay you out for about three weeks. Fortunately, that wasn’t the case, and my face cleared up in a few days. However, my bathroom habits left a lot to be desired. For several weeks I tried all kinds of over-the-counter medications – and believe me, you can get practically anything you want over the counter in Indonesia!
But nothing worked. I finally went to a doctor who spoke English and treated Westerners. He ran one test, came back, and said, almost joyously, “You have dysentery!” and threw a packet of Cipro at me. In case you don’t know, Cipro is the recommended antidote for Anthrax. Almost immediately, I got better.
But let’s talk about this woman and the baby I was supposed to procreate. Don’t let anyone kid you, Indonesian women are beautiful, dress modestly – typically wearing a Muslim “hijab,” or veil – and if you ask them if they’re married, you often get the answer, “Not yet.” Despite their beauty, the stress of living in a foreign country, the language barrier, my job, and my day-to-day existence simply erased the desire for a girlfriend, lover or wife.
But Indonesia has a great way of encouraging you to at least “try it.” I found this out when I went to buy some aspirin at a local pharmacy. Usually, these places employ more people than they need and whenever you walk in, three women descend upon you, trying to sell you an expensive herbal remedy for whatever your problem might be. I always found this annoying, but was totally taken by surprise one day, when a woman asked me if I wanted anything for my “stamina.” I was surprised that ANYONE would be interested in my stamina, so I asked her, “Why?” She was too embarrassed to answer.
The next day, I read of the death of the legendary Mak Erot, who ran her own distinctive stamina business out of her hut in West Java. She was rumored to be anywhere from 101 to 130 years old and had become very famous for her “art,” which consisted of enlarging a certain male appendage through the use of 145 secret herbs and Islamic prayer. She had apparently been in business for the better part of the 20th century, and when she died, it was discovered she had amassed a fortune of over 30 million U.S. dollars. Her business was turned over to her great-grandsons, who are presently keeping her legacy alive on the Internet.
While I’m not sure if Mak Erot’s death contributed to what I now consider to be phase one of a full blown mid-life crisis, I’m sure it didn’t help. To be honest, it really doesn’t matter. As many of you know, there is always opportunity lurking in the midst of a crisis. Jakarta gave me the opportunity to say goodbye to my youth, and pointed me in a direction I hadn’t seen before.
On my 50th birthday, I taught my first class and was exhilarated when I found out I could do it. I taught English in Jakarta for a year and then spent the next eight months teaching Corporate English in Bangkok, Thailand. When I returned to the United States, I had a much better idea of what I wanted to do with my life, as well as a deeper conviction of my own mortality.
I can’t say that moving to the other side of the world for a couple of years is for everybody. But frankly, I think every young man should join the Marines. I’m grateful for the rich experience and the discoveries you always find when you decide to take a risk.
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