NOTE TO SELF: Lose the temper

Sorry about the blogging hiatus. Of course there’s been a lot to tell you…but as the diplomats among us say, “If you don’t have anything nice to say, it’s best to say nothing at all.”

I guess August was a hard month for me. Were I to have written something during August, you (who constitutes one half of my readership, unless you are my mum in which case you constitute the other half) would not have been treated to the musings of the optimistic delusional Freya who has lovingly populated this blog every other month. Instead, you would have been forced to endure the bitter rantings of one of my grumpy alter-egos – a trio that I have affectionately named Debbie Downer, Negative Nancy and Sour Sally.

Had I blogged during August, Sour Sally would have written 5000 words about how Ramadan (which took up the entire month) made my life almost unbearable. “My fried tofu cart man went on holidays! The 24/7 calls to prayer kept me up all night! All the bars were shut so I had to go dancing in a hooker bar…A HOOKER BAR!” she would whine.

Negative Nancy would definitely have bombarded you with some self-indulgent diatribe about the multitude of reasons why I should not have “tried something new” by dying my hair brown (“It was actually more of a ‘pond scum green’ than a brown” – Nancy)…and that would have provoked Debbie Downer to chime in with the mother of all rants focused on the scary yet amusing satirical comedy that is my “love” life (I can’t publish what Debs would actually say here – she is not very PC).

Thankfully, neither Debbie, Nancy nor Sally wrote a blog – the internationally celebrated diplomat pictured below did!

I’m the one in the pink, in case you were having trouble distinguishing me from the locals

Indeed, my illustrious career as a Southeast Asian “nomad” did kick off at a very young age.  Despite being quite small (in fact, I don’t think I have ever been that small since) when the above shot was taken some twenty-two years ago on a family holiday in Thailand, I think I was already developing characteristics of high diplomacy well beyond my six years.

I remember riding atop an elephant and pretending to look comfortable; I tried to act like I was interested in the process whereby you can boil silkworms to extract their silk, when really I was just super, super, super grossed out; I even vividly recall making an effort not to stare at the amputee who charged 10c at the door of the squat toilets at the Jade Buddha.  Back then, as you can clearly see from the above photo, I was refined, gracious and impeccably dressed.

Sadly, the toothless diplomat of 1989 grew up to be the pushy, assertive, straight-talking woman that I am today.  I am a nice lady, I promise! I love people! And things! It’s just that here, I am a part of the “bule” club and sometimes we struggle with the guiding principles of Southeast Asian manners;

1. Smile through your rage – aggression earns you nothing but smiles of rage which will only enrage you further.
2. Grin through your disappointment – if you cry, people will point and laugh at you.
3. The more you offend someone (which, if you are a pushy bule, you always do) the less likely they are to tell you.

Ok, maybe that is a ridiculous over-generalisation. I’m actually not sure if the same rules apply throughout Asia as they do in Indonesia, but a cheeky google of the words “Western Vs Eastern Anger” would suggest that they do…

Needless to say, the “grin and bear it” concept continues to test my patience here in Indonesia (THAT’S BECAUSE SH*T IS ALWAYS GOING WRONG. ALWAYS. – Nancy) but of course I DO TRY to internalise my frustration as much as I can…

Unfortunately, last month I didn’t try very hard.

It’s hard to know the precise moment when (what will henceforth be known as) “The August of Anger” began for me, but I think it might have been around the time I was trying to buy a sweet faux ‘vintage cassette tape’ mobile phone cover at the market. It was pretty rad. I wanted it. Bad. But the lady in the shop was asking for $11.  I’m like “Whatevers lady, I’ll give you five.” and she’s like “ONE PRICE!”

I’m sorry, but $11 is more than I paid for my amazing Marilyn Monroe wig from Paddies Markets…

and this was a rectangle fashioned from toxic rubber, so Sour Sally was not going to take this lying down (unlike Marilyn who would take anything lying down – Debbie). A simple transaction turned quickly to a high-voltage altercation, when phone lady refused to bargain with me. Nothing new. Definitely nothing important, but it was the August of Anger so I was all like…

The August of Anger progressed at top speed when my Indonesian dentist told me I was going to need to fork out $3000 to pay for his work on my chompers. Despite the fact that this is about half the price of Australian dental care; despite the fact that my insurance will foot the bill anyhoo and despite the fact that it is unfathomably rude to object to a medical professional’s billing rates, Debbie came out of nowhere and spewed forth with some…

Shamefully, as the weeks passed, the rage did not.  When yet another creepy motorcyclist drove up onto the footpath in front of me and was getting all up in my grill nagging me to go for a ride, Nancy made him regret it.  Normally, I just ignore these skeezoids, but it was (after all) the August of Anger and I was out to make some enemies so I marched up to guy, pointed my finger in his face, and bellowed a swift, perfunctory…

Unsurprisingly, as the month drew to a close I was growing weary of living in this heightened state of crankiness.  My patience was wearing thin with the fact that my patience was wearing thin. However, on the last, fateful week of August, I decided to brave the 6pm traffic and take an ojek to meet some friends for dinner.

Thanks to the “design” of Jakarta’s road network which is based up on the assumption that we are all like Derek Zoolander and can only turn one way (in this case, left) my poor driver and I were forced to take the below route…

(I wish I were exaggerating)

Then the bike started backfiring. Then it started to rain (it never rains in August). Then Debbie, Sally and Nancy banded together and unleashed the fury…

When we finally arrived at our destination one hour later, the driver and I were both quite relieved to be parting ways.  He laughed nervously and apologetically, as I took a deep breath, dismounted, and emptied the water out of my shoes.  Within two squelchy steps I managed to tread on an innocent, unassuming feral cat (It was dark. It looked like garbage – Sally).  The cat was like “WTF?”, the driver started apologising again and I was like…

The whole evening–no, actually the whole MONTH–was hopelessly undignified and pathetic and I only had myself to blame.  I am not proud of this behavior or any of the other outbursts I inflicted upon Jakartans last month – but I also wouldn’t take them back. The August of Anger actually taught me why it’s important to keep my temper in check.

One of the reasons most Indonesians complain less than their Western friends may be, in part, due to that fact that they have bigger priorities than arriving to a meeting on time or eradicating the exploding feral cat population. If everyone here was as petty as I was during the August of Anger, then the country would self-destruct within seconds.

Yes, I am still happy living my delusional life as an exbrat. No, I am not coming home any time soon. Yes, I still have tantrums. No, I have not found anywhere that sells gluten free bread or cider but yes, I am ok with that…for today, at least.

I’m not suggesting that we shouldn’t feel comfortable expressing anger, sadness, frustration–or my most common affliction, hunger rage–but a little bit of patience goes a long way here.

It needs to go a very, very long way if you need to make a right-hand turn.