thirteen -- struggling

After returning to my homestay after we met with the Regent of Bantul, I finally made progress with winning my Indonesian man for the trip: Abil, the baby in our homestay. It was awesome. I crashed in bed around six, sleeping through dinner with the family and waking up thoroughly miserable. The desk fan keeps me cool, but doesn't pump enough air to my whole body. Consequence? Waking up sweaty and bugbitten. All I wanted to do was take a shower at that point, but the Ibu roped me into dinner. Though I did have the most delicious papaya I have ever eaten, I could muster enough energy to eat much food.

It's at the point of the trip where I feel like crap and am struggling. I just want to be home in my own bedroom (still messy from moving all my stuff back), relaxing by myself, walking and exercising every day before doing anything else. It's little stupid things I miss, like having cereal for breakfast and real orange juice with pulp. As much as Indonesian dishes have some similarity to Indian food, I miss Ma's luchi and cholar daal, or just daal in general. (I miss her amazing pastas and sandwiches too.)

I think I really need to find a landline from which I can use my calling card so I can at least briefly call home. Strangely enough, though I didn't go home often this last semester, I was in touch with someone at least every other day about something. Maybe white water rafting tomorrow will be enough to keep my mind off of these things. I'm in Indonesia, after all, and should be living in the moment here, and not lett my sudden tiredness bother me.

Anyway, I'll go back to watching Jhalak Dikhalaja -- Prabhu Deva is a judge on Saturday's episode and he is one genius dancer.

A little sadly, Nina.