I love little touches of red.  Lips, shoes, mini strawberries.

The best breakfast I’ve had in a while: buckwheat pancakes, last strawberries of the season, unsweetened hand-whipped whipped cream, banana-honey milkshake.

To set the mood properly: The Breeders- Off You

On our 3rd day, Novi, my aunt and uncle, Yu and I went to Borobudur, the largest Buddhist temple in the world, and one of the 7 wonders of the world (on some lists of wonders of the world anyway.)  Each level represents a level of enlightenment.  It felt so old and somehow sacred, and the grounds were beautiful too.

Funny things happened there.  Admission was about $3.  My aunt got us tickets, and all of a sudden we were stopped.  They asked Yu and I for ID and on finding out that we have foreign passports, they charge us $18 instead.  And throw in 2 water bottles.  Novi and I couldn’t stop laughing at the ridiculous difference in charge and treatment.

It’s so famous so there are lots of little kids there on field trips.  Lots of them point at me, stare, and some even yell at me “Bule!” which basically like yelling out “Whitey!”.  Hilarious.  It’s particuarly hilarious because in Japan, I am always mistaken for Japanese, to the point where if I am using really bad grammar in a store (it’s often, my grammar is terrible) the clerk will look at me like I was raised in a cave, and then finally say “oh, you’re not Japanese are you!”  But yet in the country where I was born, I stick out like an American tourist on a Tokyo subway.

It gets better!  These little school kids keep whispering, around me, as I’m ascending the temple stairs with my cousin.  Finally my cousin talks to them and they shyly admit that their class wants their picture taken with me.  I look that foreign apparently.  I’m completely amused so of course I say sure.  After their teacher takes some snaps, I ask them, “Dari mana?”  “Where are you from?”  They’re a little surprised and say “Dari Pekalongan”  Haha.  That’s actually my dad’s home town.  I tell them that.  They gasp and then say “So we’re the same?”  Some of them tapped me on the shoulder later to ask for individual pictures with me.  And the same thing happened a few minutes later with a high school class.  These kids were so funny and so gorgeous.  Indonesians are SO gorgeous– their perfect, latte-colored skin, wavy black hair.  I can say that without vanity because I don’t look like one at all!

my outfi that day:
cheap used dress from kinji (i tore out the shoulderpads and slit the sleeves)
earring: spank!

My grandma is a hilarious lady.  She loves Britney Spears and any other hot blondes.  She decorates her rooms and restaurant with posters of these hot blondes.  She’s also a really tough lady.  She raised 6 kids alone after my grandfather died at age 40.  I like to think that she also raised tough ladies, that went on to raise tough girls.  She’s a wonderful cook, masseuse, card player, and bargain shopper.  Oh, and the mangoes from her mango tree are THE best mangoes I have ever eaten.

I love my oma.

A few weeks ago I went with Yu to Indonesia.  I have tons and tons of pictures from the trip.  I’ll go through them slowly!

We arrived on a Saturday night- my cousin Novi picked us up and we went straight my aunt’s house.  My aunts and uncles cooked a huge welcome feast for us!

The next morning, we had delicious food from street food vendors, during which I dropped my camera lens and watched as it snapped into 2 distinct pieces.  We went back to the house and had 15 minutes to gather up our belongings and start the drive to my grandma’s house– all of which I spent desperately trying to fix my lens.  With some gentle twisting and pushing and snapping it actually came back together– I don’t need you, warranty and officially lisenced Canon dudes!

The drive was long but there was lovely scenery, and we stopped at various points through the trip to eat spicy fish and ice durian (and re-fill the gas at a station with a world-record number of toilets).

Tomorrow: my grandma’s house.