Contributing writer and British expatriate David Nesbit reflects on how his way of life has changed three decades after immigrating to Indonesia.
Arriving in Indonesia more than 30 years ago as a British expatriate, I thought I was doing so with an open mind. ‘Things will be different,’ I told myself, ‘but I’m sure I will soon adapt.’ More than three decades later and from one side of the coin, I’m still waiting for the day when I feel I truly have done so. And yet, from the other side of the coin, I almost feel—incoming cliché alert—practically Indonesian myself.
Initial differences that seemed to rather directly smack me in the face, so to speak, included unfamiliar customs, food, weather, sounds, and attitudes. In England, I had generally been used to sleeping through fairly quiet nights, eating uninspiring but ‘safe’ foods, experiencing four distinct seasons, and living in rather reserved if at times exceedingly polite communities.
Things in Indonesia were somewhat different, I eventually learnt, and gradually, I began to understand this country a little better. In fact, I would even go so far as to say not only have I adapted to Indonesia but Indonesia has also, to a degree, changed me.
As we shall see, the seemingly loud, all-night parties and five-times-daily calls to prayer no longer keep me awake; sweat-inducing spicy food is now the norm rather than the exception; the climate changes of ‘hot, hotter, and wow’ have become a part of everyday life, and being asked where I am going, if I have eaten my lunch or breakfast yet, how old I am, and how much money I paid for my house now pass for more than acceptable topics of small talk.
Time is a flexible concept
British attitudes towards punctuality and keeping appointments are somewhat rigid. In the UK, if you are five minutes late for an appointment or meeting, you really are late. In Indonesia, however, the concept of jam karet (rubber time) means the same circumstances may well deem the person in question as being anything up to 20 minutes early.
This is definitely one area I have adapted well to. I am rarely ‘on time’ for anything these days, and yet I am also rarely what I would call ‘late’ either. If a meeting is called for 3 PM, say, I will start to get ready around that time by tidying up my desk, nipping to the loo, and getting myself a coffee. I will head on over to the venue and be in place around 10 minutes past, and yet I will still be one of the first to arrive.
Patience is a virtue, so we are told, and learning the art of achieving it has helped me become a more relaxed person, I think. Nobody likes being stuck in traffic or having to wait a seemingly indeterminable length of time to see a doctor, bank, or government official when required. But when one realises that stressing out and becoming overly anxious is not going to speed the process up, one starts to accept the situation.
Rice: from accompaniment to necessity?
As stated, British eating habits are universally dismissed as bland and uninspiring. Food is plentiful but seen to be served unimaginatively in the UK, and upon arriving in Indonesia, it took me a long time to attempt to become more imaginative in my intake.
It was not just the food being consumed that was strange to my rather young and open eyes, but eating habits in general. For example, I recall initially finding the concept of eating fried rice or noodles for breakfast rather unusual. While I have got to grips with this over the years, I must admit to still being baffled at how my daughter can consume a Kit Kat and a choc-ice as the first meal of the day, though.
Over the years, I have gradually developed a greater tolerance and appreciation for spicy food. Moreover, on the occasions I return to Britain, I now sometimes find supposedly spicy food disappointingly mild there, and a meal without rice sometimes feels incomplete.
The weather
This has been one of the bigger transformations in my time in Indonesia. Growing up accustomed to Britain’s unpredictable weather, I was fully aware of the differences I was going to encounter upon immigrating here. I expected the heat, humidity, and tropical rain, but what I didn’t expect was how quickly and joyously I was going to embrace these changes.
While I do occasionally miss the varieties of seasons Britain has to offer, I most certainly do not miss the freezing cold winters, iced roads, and bone-numbing winds the Old Country has to offer. Indeed, as I get older, I am less and less likely to even contemplate the shortest of visits home during the winter months.
The convenience of modern Indonesia
Of course, like the rest of the globe, Indonesia has changed dramatically over the past three decades. Life when I arrived was officially BS (Before Smartphones) and was also pre-internet. Not having a landline in our house meant that if I wanted to call someone, I would have to do so from a public phone, while getting even the most rudimentary of news from back home could be difficult at best and impossible at worst. I would rely on ‘snail mail’ from my family back in the UK, and as that tended to be—in the main—of a personal slant, every day-to-day information about what was happening in England was almost impossible to find.
Now, of course, things are much different, and not only I but most of us have grown used to the conveniences of the modern world. However, this could lead us all to ponder the rhetorical question of whether convenience has made us all too comfortable. After all, my wife will insist on driving round and round a car park looking for a space as close to the mall’s doors as possible rather than parking in the first available space and walking a few dozen metres. This is, although she will not flinch at the prospect of spending anything up to three hours traipsing around the mall once finally inside.
The real culture shock: returning to Britain
As alluded to, this can be more difficult than acclimatising to Indonesia ever was. Every time I go back to England, I feel just a little more detached than the previous time. I guess the reason for this is that both Britain and my own habits and outlooks have changed.
When I go back to England these days, I find myself making comparisons with Indonesia. I mentally convert the prices of things back to Indonesian Rupiah before I buy them, for example, and I find social interactions more difficult as well. When I previously lived in England, I would never have dreamt of going into a shop, for example, and striking up a conversation with a stranger. However, because I have become accustomed to doing so to a degree in Indonesia, there have been times when I have attempted the same when back in England—only to be met with blank stares of bemusement.
This means that I feel slightly out of place in the country where I grew up while still being regarded as a foreigner in Indonesia despite decades of residence. This also results in the peculiar experience of belonging partly, in different ways, to two different countries—but not totally to either.