W

hen I reflect on what has been perhaps my greatest accomplishment in my young life so far, I have always thought it to be my ability to speak Indonesian. But I have realized I am wrong. My greatest accomplishment in these short, almost 30 years is my relationship with this country.

Those that know me well know that I have had a great number of challenging relationships in my life, many of which I am lucky to say, still stand.

I met Indonesia when I was two years old. I was with my parents, staying in a bungalow on the island of Bali (long before the time of Australian occupation). Both my mother and father have told me stories about how I sat in a becak (pedicab) with a Balinese grandpa and we had the most wonderful, extensive chat: Neither of us speaking a mutual language. Obviously we understood and could appreciate the wonders in the world that conspire to bring two people from across the globe together. We were happy.

We Melbournians get in our cars and drive 10 hours to Sydney. We get on a plane and in less time than that we can be in the traffic-jammed, pulsating megalopolis that is Jakarta. Jakartan-Indonesians, like Sydneysiders, are our neighbors. Sure we might look different and speak differently, but mostly we have a lot in common.

The way we often prioritize family and friends is the same. The way we value a sense of humor and playfulness is the same. Our cultures are constantly changing and adapting to new forms of technology and new modes of communication in the same way. We both constantly have our noses stuck in aforementioned new technologies. We both eat junk food.

We both worry about money. We both try to raise our children in the best way we can: drinking coffee, going to the movies, studying, exercising, praying, meditating, clubbing and appreciating the arts. Many of these things we share.

This is the longest I have been in Indonesia so far, and what has struck me very strongly is just how normal it feels to be here. But it'€™s an amplified kind of normal.

My worries about life are pretty much the same here, except that this is a magical green land where opportunities seem to grow on trees (and most trees are on steroids here), meaning that worries are quickly replaced with hordes of inspiration and ideas. It is easier to be in the moment here, the Indonesian driving style is a great analogy for this: Just focus on what is happening now, no sudden movements, only look ahead, rarely back.

What makes me happy is the same (my friends, my teaching, my artwork, nature, good food, music). But there is something special about Indonesia: Something that makes you feel so alive.

The wind on your face as you clench your knuckles until they turn blue and you swerve your scooter around potholes, frequently-stopping-without-warning angkot (public minivans), broken-down buses, dogs, goats and children.

The predictably unpredictable weather that pours down fat slaps of rain, bringing you back to the present from wherever your thousands of (probably pointless, maybe inspired) thoughts had taken you just a second ago: The greenness and sheer size of the plants, huge heart-shaped leaves fluttering in the wind.

My island home, Australia, needs to stay mates with my archipelagic home, Indonesia. They are my guardians. They have raised me and shaped me. Of course I want them to get along.

Kate Hill
Bandung, West Java