Good bye Kediri

Eight weeks ago, I was welcomed into a very nice Indonesian home. As I struggled hauling two of my suitcases into my new room, I was greeted by a warm Indonesian woman. Little did I know that 8 weeks later this strange house would become my safe little space in a strange new land. Just like my mother did in the US, while I was packing for Indonesia, my Ibu here stood at the entrance of my door silently watching me squeeze as much as I could into two suitcases.
 
The morning went rather slowly. I woke up at 5:30 as usual and was all packed and ready to leave by 6:30. My counterpart had planned the night before to pick me up at 7, but jam kurat (flexible time) and they picked me up around 8. My ibu set with me in the living room as we both anxiously waited for their arrival.
 
As I shook my ibu’s hands one last time, I salimed (revering handshake by touching the back of the hand to the forehead to show respect to an elder) her and gave her a hug.  Although hugs aren’t as common in Indonesia, I felt it was appropriate. My ibu has asked me to visit sometime in the next 2 years and I plan on doing so.