If you dream of living on a tropical island, one of the most important things you will need to learn is that time is not all that important. We called it island time when we were in the Florida Keys and Dominica. In Indonesia, the term is jam karet, rubber time. This was clearly evident while visiting our friend Vonce’s family in Timor. Last night we were told to be ready at 7pm to be picked up for to dinner, and we left at 8. (He apparently decided to run an errand first.) I waited for 3 hours before they finally picked up my laundry this morning.
This will take some getting used to. If I continue to be frustrated by Indonesians' seeming lack of concern for keeping to a schedule, life here will be miserable. I might as well adapt to their standard, for they will certainly not change to mine.
Oh, well. It’s not like anything will fall apart if I don’t start shopping exactly when I thought I would. Life in America is rush, rush, rush. Do three things at once, none of them getting 100% of my attention or 100% of my effort. Here I really don’t have anywhere I need to be right now, or anything I have to do right away. Jam karet is probably a good thing for an American like me. Perhaps there’s something to the Zen concept of living in the moment. You know: Enjoy the ride.
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