Tanah Airku

Since it's the weekend and my first wife's birthday, I thought I'd take a little break from the usual rantings and ravings to offer a few insights into Indonesian life that one doesn't often find in guide books.  If you are planning to visit, these might come in useful, and if not, then maybe it will just be interesting to learn a few of the small cultural differences.

In many ways, Indonesia is a lot like the United States.  From the outside, it appears to be a single country stretching vast distances from the Indian Ocean to the open Pacific.  In fact, it is a hodge-podge of around 300 different cultures and languages.  Each island has its own style and people, and in the case of the larger islands, there are multiple cultures living in a kind of uneasy harmony.

On Java alone, there are the Javanese, Sundanese and Betawi.  Within those groups, there are multiple subdivisions, some with wildly different dialects.  Javanese has two primary dialects, halus and kasar (smooth and rough).  The smooth dialect is spoken primarily in the south, while the rough more or less corresponds to the north of the island.  Certain regions have their own sub-dialect, such as Tegalese, which is a mish-mash of Jawa kasar, Sundanese and Hokkien Chinese.  For the most part, they are unintelligible to each other.

Most South Pacific languages follow the same broad grammatical structure, including Tagalu, Austral-Indo and even Hawai'ian, but the vocabulary is widely different, with little cross-over.

Manners are rather interesting.  Around Java, it is always impolite to gesture to someone or something with the index finger.  One always gestures with an open hand, fingers together, and only with the right hand.  It's not uncommon to support the gesturing hand by placing the left hand under the right forearm.

The same technique is used when shaking hands.  The right hands are lightly clasped while supporting the forearm with the left hand, and bowing slightly.  After shaking hands, which can last as much as 15 minutes, then one touches the right hand to the heart.

If the two shaking hands are of opposite sex, then both hands are held together at the heels with the fingers slightly splayed and fanned out.  The two light touch fingertips and then both hands touch the heart.

This is all rather difficult for a Texas boy to get used to, since we are taught from birth that hand shaking is a stylized form of arm wrestling, with a death grip and some arm-wrenching pumps, and never more than 5 seconds worth.

To get someone's attention at a distance, you almost never yell or whistle.  You clap your hands.  Once you have their attention, then you gesture to them to come over by holding out your hand, palm down, fingers together, and curling the fingers repeatedly into the palm.

Food is absolutely the center of Indonesian life.  Everything revolves around meals, which are typically four to five per day.  It's even a common greeting to ask someone, "Sudah makan belum?"  Have you already eaten or not yet?  When one travels to other parts of the country, the folks back home expect oleh-oleh, which is normally a food gift unique to the other region.  Naturally, special occasions center around large meals, and at the heart of every meal is a mountain of sticky rice.

There are few if any manners specific to eating.  Typically, an Indonesian rests the left forearm on the table across the chest and uses the right arm to get as much food as he can before it runs out.  Utensils can be a fork and table spoon, or chop sticks.  However, the traditional way to eat is with the fingers.  One makes a ball of rice on the tips of the index and middle fingers, then uses it to pick up a bite of meat or vegetables and shoves the whole thing in the mouth.

One interesting type of cuisine is Padang.  The restaurants are ubiquitous and usually recognizable by the unique peaked rooves over the entrance.  The are no menus.  You either select a la carte from the steam table, or just sit down and a sample of everything in the restaurant will be brought to you on little plates that are stacked up precariously in the center of the table.  Eat what you like, and the rest gets dumped back in the pot for the next guy.

It's a challenge to get a handle on what meats are available where.  Central Sumatera and northern Sulawesi are predominantly Christian, so pork is readily available, though the butchering, display and preparation are done in separate areas.  On the other hand, Bali is predominantly Hindu, so beef is rather difficult to obtain and expensive to boot.  In some areas, dog is considered a delicacy, while in others, it is forbidden.  Other types of meats include squirrel, bat, monkey, and other little critters, as well.

One rather disconcerting aspect of eating Indonesian style is the use of things I would consider inedible.  One example is when I went to a roadside canteen and, in the interest of trying everything, I ordered sate usus ayam.  At the time, I had no idea what it was, other than it was satay, which I love, and chicken (ayam), which is wholly inoffensive.  It was the usus part that was intriguing.  So I ordered it.  I got chicken guts artfully arranged on a stick, dipped in curry sauce and grilled.  I choked it down, but never again.

Shrimp and crab are often deep fried in shell and the whole thing is eaten, from whiskers to tail.  Fish, such as pecel lele, a type of catfish, is deep fried complete with guts and fins.  Hardcore lele lovers eat every scrap.

One fun thing about Indonesia is you can get just about anything imaginable to eat at your door.  Nearly every restaurant delivers within their area, but in the neighborhoods, vendors go around with every type of cart, wagon and device cooking up the food to order while you sit on your porch.  This system is truly ingenious.  Some have motorcycles or bicycles that literally unfold into full kitchens, while others have fully stocked push-carts.  Either way, it's as much fun to order and watch, as it is to eat some very good food almost completely hassle-free.  You can even use their dishes and just leave them by the door to be collected later.

All in all, Indonesia is a wholly unique place.  You can go by train, plane or boat, and in just a few hours be in another world, literally and figuratively.  You can hike up the side of a volcano, dive on some of the most incredible reefs in the world, romp through tropical jungle with monkeys and real, live dragons.  Hear chirping lizards and see an astounding assortment of butterflies.

Most of all, you can meet a warm and gentle people who live in a world apart from most of us.  They live in eternal summer, where food literally drips off trees.  One learns about 15 kinds of bananas and mutant coconuts that are highly prized.  But mostly one learns that there really is life on the far side, and that even after four years deeply immersed in it, it never ceases to surprise and amaze.

With 20,000 islands and 300 cultures all for one visa, it's not a bad travel deal, offering something for everyone.  Just never claim that batik is Malaysian.  It's one of the few things that will get an Indonesian's hackles up.

Oh, and the title of this article: tanah air simply means "land water", but together like this, it is the equivalent of homeland, motherland, or other similar euphemism.  Until you learn that, though, it does lead to some humor, and the first line of the Indonesian national anthem is, "Indonesia tanah airku."  Directly translated, it says, "Indonesia land of my water."  A rather incongruous image.

To Eat Or Not To Eat?

That is truly the question.


Indonesia, and Asia in general, is a minefield of new and interesting things to eat.  They put to sauce what Americans fear to see.  There are animal parts in my dinner that I never imagined possible.  Most of it's quite good, but some of it is just, well, intolerable.

One sign I was not in Kansas anymore was the first time I ordered up a bowl of chicken soup, and there, floating gracefully in the middle of my bowl, was a chicken foot.  My first reaction, being from East Texas and all, was that this was some kind of voodoo.  I looked around to see if I could spy a mammy with a kerchief sitting in the corner cackling with a toothless grin and staring at me with evil design.

Come to find out, chicken foot is a very common ingredient.  Even when you go to Carrefour or Giant, you can find piles of chicken feet stacked by the packages of chicken skin, just waiting to be thrown in the pot.  They don't scare me like they used to, but I still can't bring myself to gnaw on them like the local folk.  Maybe four more years?

Of course, sate, or satay as we reckon it, is popular the world over.  It's one of Indonesian's most famous exports, and it's delicious.  There's the goat with thick soy sauce and a cucumber/onion medley.  I love that one.  There's chicken with a spicy peanut sauce, which when it's perfect, I can't get enough.  But, I have this habit, see? 

Sometimes, I go into a restaurant and I look for something I've never heard of before, and which I can't translate.  Call me crazy, I know.  This one time, though, I was at a sate restaurant, the kind that literally folds up at midnight and disappears until the next night.  They actually had a menu, which is unusual.  I scanned the list of satay favorites...fish, chicken, goat, beef.  I came to one I couldn't decipher.  It was usus ayam.  Now I knew ayam meant chicken, and still being a bit naive at the time, I figured what the heck?

A few minutes later, I was treated to a plate full of chicken guts on a stick with yellow curry sauce.  And I do mean guts.  The heart led off, followed by an artfully arranged snake of bowel, and capped with liver.  I don't know about you, but liver makes me vomit, unless it's pate de fois gras with caviar on a delicate wheat biscuit.  Mmmmm! 

But this aborration sitting in front of me was...how do I put it?  Frightening.  It looked like something Vincent and Mary Price would cook up for Halloween.  And you know what?  I ate every piece of it.  Personal rule.  Can't break it.  No matter what.

One thing I'm growing more tolerant of is the idea of frying shrimp without removing a single part of them.  The head, tail and armor plating all come delicately fried to a crispy crunch.  I try not to look at the inscrutable black eyeballs when I'm eating, though.  Can't says as I like the whiskers, though.  I tend to pull those suckers off before I eat.  When it's done right, it's pretty darned tasty.  When not, you can chew the armor plates all night and not choke them down.

The next item on the list is almost a joke, but when I first enjoyed gurame, which is a fresh-water fish, I was entertained by the presentation.  The entire fish had been battered and fried, and it was then served on the plate standing on its belly fins, looking like it was swimming with its flesh flying off at all angles.  It looked something like that art exhibit of actual human bodies in various stages of dissection and engaged in a range of activities.

Actually, the fish was quite good, and it's normally served with sweet and sour sauce with is one of my favorites.  And no, the sauce is not like that strange red concoction that you get at Chinese restaurants in the States.  This is actually flavorful with complex tones and pleasant after-taste.

After we had picked the carcass bare (now there was a swimming skeleton), I was presented with the prize.  In fact, to Indonesians, the rest of the fish is just prelude to this.  THIS is the reason they eat gurame!  There, on the plate before me, in all it's fried wonder, was...the head!  Now at 50 years, I've never eaten a fish head in all my life.  Not that I haven't scarfed on barbequed goat head and monkey brains and head cheese, but FISH?!

Not only that, everyone at the table was looking at me with that look that says, "You bastard, you got the good part."  I could hardly refuse, even though I tried for 10 minutes.  So, I did what any self-respecting, red-blooded Texas boy would do...I hunkered down and ate it.  Wasn't entirely unpleasant, but I'm not running out buying sack-fulls of fish heads for dinner anytime soon.

By now, you've probably figured this is all heading somewhere, right?  There must be some point to this rant about strange and unusual things to eat.  I mean, fried skin ain't all that strange.  Cracklins are a staple of East Texas diets.  My grandfather ate pickled pig's feet all his life.  In the jungles of East Texas, I've eaten alligator and turtle and frog butts and armadillo.  So what could all this possibly be leading to?

It's kind of like that scene in Life of Brian, when they are at the Colosseum and the vendor is selling weasel snouts, badger butts and grilled hedgehog.

So one night, I was having dinner with some Balinese friends, and the fare was quite good.  Especially the pork, which is a rarity around these parts.  My host opened a bag of what looked like normal, everyday kerupuk, of which there are a thousand varieties, made from plants, roots, fish, skin, and dozens of other fry-ables.  She offered me some and I obligingly took a handful.

I mindlessly popped the first one in my mouth, having eaten a metric ton of these things in the past few years.  The first thing I noticed was that it was very salty, which I don't like.  Then came the texture, which was akin to week-old squid.  In other words, it was a crispy rubber-band.  Then came the flavor, and here I run out of metaphors, because there is no flavor I know of that comes close.

"What do you think?" she asked.  At this point I knew I'd been had.  Whenever someone asks you that, it means they've just put a fast one over on you.

"Hmmm...," I replied, being as diplomatic and non-committal as I could.  "What is it?"

"Paru-paru," she announced triumphantly. 

Now, if you know Indonesian, then you are probably laughing.  Indos love this stuff, but I must say, and I rarely say this about anything, I hate it.  It doesn't have a single redeeming quality that I can find.  Not only that, there are various kinds of paru-paru, just to make sure that if you didn't get a snoot-full with the kerupuk, then there's a handful in your soup.

Paru-paru means "lungs".  The fried version I ate that night was beef lung cut up and fried like potato chips, save for the deep red color.

I've encountered it again and again, since then.  My wife, God bless her, loves chicken lungs.  I can't even stand the sight, much less the smell or taste of it.  I forbade the least particle of lung to touch my plate.  I REALLY don't like it.  And that says a lot, because I've choked down just about every animal, insect and plant laid before me.  But lung is right up there iwth beets.  I don't like the taste, the texture or the name even.

So it you're traveling this way anytime soon, and someone offers you paru-paru, run, do not walk, as fast as you can. 

Unless you're just weird.

By the way, would you pass the dog, please?

Feed Me, Seymore!

This being the holidays and all, I thought it would be a good time to talk about one of my favorite subjects of all time: Food. It's something I haven't really addressed here, but it is one of the main attractions, in my puny little mind, that merits comment with regards to Indonesia.

Keep in mind that Indonesia is actually an amalgam of many different cultures. Not only are there hundreds of indigenous people, but there is strong influence from Dutch, Portuguese and Spanish cuisines, as well. In other words, there is a wide varity of foods with distinctinve spices and preparation styles, ranging from drop-dead spicy to mildly entertaining.

As you might imagine, the local foods involve a lot of rice and soy products, as well as fruit and vegetables. Common meats are chicken, beef goat, fish,crab, and duck, with pockets of pork and exotic things like frog, octopus, squirrel, dog and bat in some areas.

Each ethnic group has its own distinctive favorites that are generally popular and can be found in restaurants that specialize in the various cuisines. For anyone wanting to try these dishes, and who don't have an Indonesian restaurant nearby, you can search the name of the dish online and most will return some good recipes. Most of the preparations are not difficult, but you might find it hard to get bamboo or banana leaf for the proper presentation. Most of the dishes can be prepared in a mild version, though typically Indonesians like a little zip to it. Many times, the table includes spicy sauce called sambal, which is added to taste after serving.

I have heard it said that Americans will eat anything with two slices of bread, and the same can be said of Indonesians and sambal. The most common pepper is the cabe rawit, a small hot pepper that many Americans would recognize as Thai peppers or the Tobasco pepper.

So, we begin where every Indonesian does, at the end. Dessert. Indonesians have a decidedly sweet tooth, and if given the choice, will start with the sweet so they're not too full afterwards.

Martabak is a very popular treat. There are two primary varieties, manis or sweet, and telor or egg. The sweet variety is basically a variation on the Dutch panenkoeken. It is a very large pancake, about two inches thick, smoothered in butter, split down the middle and filled with chocolate and crushed peanuts. You can feel your arteries hardening as you eat! The egg variety is something like an omlette wrapped in a thin filo pastry and fried on a griddle. It generally involves any number of fillings using a variety of meats and vegetables. This one is served with a spicy sambal on the side.

Nasi goreng or fried rice, is a staple of the Indonesian diet. If you haven't been to Asia, then you may not be aware that fried rice is considered a breakfast food. The rice, meat and vegetables left-over from the night before are stir-fried together with soy sauce and bumbu/seasonings. The dish is commonly garnished with cucumber and tomato slices and, of course, sambal. A popular variation is called nasi goreng komplit, which is crowned with a fried egg.

There are dozens of snacks that involve packing some meat and/or vegetable inside a ball of sticky rice and then wrapping it in distinctive shapes that tell you what's inside. One common variety is called bacang. The balls are formed into little tetrahedrons, wrapped in banana leaf and then steamed. You can find them at the market strung together in five or ten and make a handy and quick self-contained meal. There's a variety popular in Manado, where the inside of a piece of bamboo is lined with banana leaf, stuffed with sweet sticky rice and then steamed or grilled. There are literally dozens of these kinds of snacks from every area, with a wide variety of fillings and flavors.

Bubur is a classic found all over Asia. It's a porridge made of rice to which any number of meats, vegetables and spices are added. Every region has it's own distinctive recipes. The most common are chicken, peanuts, green onions, coconut, sweet soy sauce, and of course, sambal.

One of my personal favorites is gado-gado, which is a warm salad made with chunks of tofu, cabbage, bean sprouts and various other vegetables, smoothered in a spicy peanut sauce. It is typically served with kerupuk, which is any one of dozens of varieties of fried, crispy wafers that serve the same purpose as dipping chips.

One Indonesian original that is known the world over is, of course, sate, bite-sized pieces of meat on a skewer that are grilled and served with several different sauces. The most common varieties are chicken and goat, but beef can be readily found. depending on the meat, it is served with spicy peanut sauce or sweet woy sauce with chilis and green onions. Just about everywhere you go, you will find men manning the hibachi grill, using coconut husks for fuel, and waving a kipas (a fan made of coconut fibers), smoking up a storm. It is usually served with rice and cucumber slices, and a tall glass of es teh manis Iiced sweet tea) to cool off from the spice. One variety of sate that I have tried, but am not very fond of, is usus ayam, or chicken guts. The liver, gizzard and entrails are snaked up the skewer and then the whole thing is maranated in yellow curry sauce before grilling. Not that the flavor is bad, but entrails have never been my cup of tea.

One of the most popular cuisines is padang, which is named after the region in Sumatra that originated it. The restaurants, called rumah padang, or padang house, are distinctive for having a steeply pitched roof, in the Sumatra style over the main entrance. There are three primary ways of ordering padang food: one is the ubiquitous box lunch that comes complete with meat, vegetable, rice, banana, and green sambal, which have been known to cause medical emergencies; the second is to walk in and order cafeteria-style from the steam table; finally, you can just sit down and within minutes a foot-tall stack of plates with a serving of two of everything they make appearing in front of you. Though slightly more expensive, this last option must be seen to be believed. You are charged by what you eat, and the remainder is dumped back in the pot. I've certainly never seen anything like it. it's kind of like a buffet that comes to you. The food is usually fairly spicy, though the more mainstram houses tone it down a bit. The purists, like me, prefer the original seasoning, which as noted above, strikes fear into the stoutest heart.

Another favorite is pisang goreng, or fried bananas. One must first be aware that there are a dizzing variety of bananas here. By my count, there are at least seven different types. The best for frying, in my opion, are huge, green, knarly looking things that come from Kalimantan/Borneo. They are sliced about an inch thick, smashed flat, battered and deep fried. The pisang goreng kalimantan are generally most favored for the sweet flavor and crunchy texture. The stalls who sell this variety are usually quite busy and the smell fills the street for blocks.

Finally, another ubiquitous favorite is pecel lele. Lele is a small, fresh-water catfish that is often grown in tanks on people's front porches. The fish is normally Ibut not always) gutted, the whole thing lightly battered, and then deep fried. The head and fins are considered special treats. The fins are crispy, like potato chips. Use them to scoop up some (all together now) sambal.

And so we end up back where we began, with dessert. This one is a nice treat on a hot afternoon. It's called es campur or mixed ice. You take shaved ice, add pieces of fruit and flavored gelatin, red beans, a little coconut milk, and top with sweetened condensed milk. Mix is all up and enjoy!

So there's a quick tour of Indonesian food. In a future article, I'll get into some of the more strange and unique things, like cobra blood, bar-b-qued dog, fried bat, and squirrel stew. All of it's pretty good, once you get past the part of picturing what you're eating. There's some interesting fruits and vegetables that take a little getting used to, as well. And what would a gastronomic tour of Indonesia be without talking a little about coffee. After all, 'java' is American slang for the stuff.

Until then...ojo lali mangan e! (That's Javanese for, "Don't forget to ear!")