Monday, May 31, 2010

Life in Indonesia: Tempo Dulu

Every year, in the month of May, our town puts on a festival remembering the old days ("tempo" means time, and "dulu" means past). It's one of my favorite times of the year in Indonesia. I love history, and this gives me a chance to see the history of Indonesia and our town come alive. We also get to experience community with the people of our town. Nothing draws people together like a festival (kind of like the State Fair in Minnesota - the Great Minnesota Get Together). The food is awesome. Though much of it we can get year round, this is an excuse to eat foods we don't normally get a chance to eat regularly. And, it usually marks the beginning of the cooler season, as the rainy season winds down and we head into the dry season.

We made it to the festival on Saturday afternoon, just before the LARGE crowds began to descend on the main street. By the time we left, we were reduced to just shuffling - and I mean literally shuffling - along.

We spent some time at Pak Bambang's stall (Bambang is a very popular name in Java. I have at least three other friends with the same name). He makes instruments, props, and attire for the "Reog Ponorogo" dance, a dance that has a crazy lion as the lead actor. (Incidentally, Ponorogo is a town in East Java that is also famous for its chicken satay. If you ever come visit us, we'll treat you to our favorite hole in the wall satay place, which is from Ponorogo).


Pak Bambang's wife treated us to sugar cane on a stick (maybe the Minnesota State Fair could try fried sugar cane on a stick!?).

But our favorite food of the day was "Martabak." It's a crepe like skin that is fried in about two inches of oil, then folded around an egg and vegetable mixture, fried some more, and cut into squares. (You can also get a sweet one with chocolate in it).

And our favorite activity by far was a ride around the festival on the old fashioned horse and carriage.

A bigger than life "topeng" - mask - that is traditionally worn by dancers who perform the mask dance . . .
 . . . like this.