Indonesia Research Program

Today was a Muslim holiday, and school was closed. We awoke at 6:30 am and went to Borobudur, an historic Buddhist Temple originally completed between 750 and 850 CE. We decided to go as early in the day as possible because of the heat and the crowds. We were warned that small kids would want to take tons of pictures with us. I shrugged this idea off as inconsequential: a few kids would scream “bule” at us and maybe ask to take some pictures.

This wasn’t the case. In what can only be described as “meta” (Kelsey Grimes, BMC ’12), being at Borobudur was beyond surreal. Here we are, at this magnificent, ancient, temple, in awe of the fine detail in the stonework and the building’s remarkable preservation, and we were the ones catching the local’s eyes. Old women, young adults, and high school students all asked us to take pictures with them. We were addressed as “misses.” Most used their own cameras, but some were satisfied just with having their picture taken on one of ours. The students asked if we would practice speaking English with them, and at the end, asked us to write a note to them in autograph books for a school project. So, instead of being the only ones gawking obviously, we were joined by many locals on daytrips too.

Because I’d never experienced any sort of personal celebrity, it was a completely new experience to be the center of attention (for doing absolutely nothing other than being white). It was both flattering and awkward, and I know I’m not the only one in the group who felt self-conscious at times. This feeling of semi-discomfort was pronounced further by the obvious preferential treatment received by the most stereotypically American (read: light skinned) among us. Everyone wanted to take a picture with Aisha, Kelsey, Maddie and me, whereas few were as interested in posing with or speaking to Susan Gao BMC ’13 or Bridget Ackefi BMC ’12. When we were asked where we were from, in fact, Bridget and Susan were always second-guessed for saying “America.”

This resistance to the idea of Americans as anything-but-white was very surprising to me. Obviously, just as people in America have unfounded or distorted biases about Indonesians, it makes sense for Indonesians to have such biases about Americans. However, more than socioeconomics or privilege of any sort, this bias was totally based on skin color. We’d seen many adds for skin whitening creams since arriving in Indonesia, and knew skin bleaching was practiced fairly commonly, but the association between whiteness and American-ness was most poignant in Borobudur.

Obviously, American news and media are responsible for a lot of the reinscription of this stereotype, but it still came as a bit of a surprise.

Below are various pictures from Borobudur, most of which were taken by Maddie. Also note the shot of Kelsey taking a picture of a new friend taking a picture of Aisha — taken by Termana. The shots of mushrooms and Geronimo Juice (ginger, orange, mint) at the end are from lunch: we went to a restaurant that serves all mushroom-based meals.

In other news, today I caught a frog! I will post a picture of him in my next entry.

Last night the CPGC treated us to a Ramayana Ballet performance.  The “ballet” took place outdoors in the complex of the Prambanan, a 9th century Hindu temple.  It was not ballet as I know it — no twirling or tutus — consisting instead of highly exaggerated steps, hand gestures, and facial expressions.  There were violent men, graceful floating women, and scary ape-men.  The costumes were absolutely gorgeous: batik sarongs, gold belts, elaborate headdresses, and masks or heavy makeup.  The plot (outlined in the awkwardly-translated program) was hard to follow because there are about a dozen people with long names that start with R.  Here’s a taste, the penultimate scene:

“When the giant troops of Alengka are on their guard at their country boundary, they are suddenly attacked by the ape troops.  Therefore a big war occurs between them.  In this war Indrajid is killed by Laksmana.  Kumbakama, the youner brother of Rahwana, died as a patriotic hero.  After the death of Kumbakama, Rahwana finally becomes the commander of the Alengka troops to face Rama.  In this war, Rahwana is killed by Rama’s arrow and Hanuman drops the Mount Sumawana on Rahwana.”

The most exciting scene came at the end of the first act, when Hanuman (the white monkey) is sentenced to be burnt alive.  He grabs the torches from his guards as the prepare for his execution, runs to the top of the stage, and sets everything on fire.

I meant to post this earlier, but there was a power outage (the 6^th or 7^th since we’ve been in Jogja) which prevented me from connecting to the internet.

The past 3 days have been remarkably busy and full of new experiences (most of them wonderful). After class on Friday we met up with Samuel Indratma, a local artist famous for his murals and street art. He visited Haverford in 2004 or 2005 and his work is still hanging outside the CPGC café (the identity cards with the interesting faces). We met Sam Indramata at Taman Budaya, where his work is on exhibit along with other local artists and artisans. A major focus of Sam’s work is bringing the disabled (difabel in Bahasa Indonesia) into the public’s consciousness. In Indonesia, he explained, people with developmental and physical disabilities are marginalized to the point of segregation: they go to special schools and are kept out of the public eye almost entirely. Sam’s work focuses on reintegrating the disabled, as well as those who work with the disabled, back into mainstream society.

After exploring Taman Budaya, we piled into the car and drove to a small shop called Toko Ledgar, owned by the famous Indonesian shower puppeteer of the same surname. When Obama was supposed to visit Indonesia last year, his Jawanese family sent pictures of his family (including the dog), which were made into puppets.

Ledgar and Obama

Regardless of his fame, Ledgar’s shop is quite humble: it is comprised of 3 rooms: the foyer, a storage room, and the bedroom/ workshop/ kitchen. The shop was literally bursting with art: Ledgar spent about 2 hours showing up his favorite puppets, as well as news articles and dissertations written about him. Although he’s never stopped moving while we were there. By the time we left, we were all exhausted, while Ledgar seemed as energetic as ever.

Our next stop was Nasirun’s compound (house, studio, storage rooms, and his personal museum). I have never seen so much art in one day, or so up- close. Nasirun was incredibly down-to-earth and modest, always laughing when we expressed our amazement at beauty, detail, and sheer volume of art covering every possible space. His works actually stretched from floor to ceiling: he carved the floors by hand with intricate designs and the sunlights were painted as well. Gigantic 9 Meter canvases adorned the walls. And this was only his “house.”

We followed Nasirun outside, to the patio area, all designed by him. Complete with exotic birds, trees imported from the Amazon, and a mosaic pool. More art lined the patio and filled various storage rooms nestled throughout the property. And then we got to Nasirun’s personal museum, in which he showcased his less- advantaged artist friends. (Some of Nasirun’s paintings sell for millions of dollars, so he wanted to create a space to both financially and artistically support his commercially less successful friends.)

Before we left, we were introduced to his daughter and were each given a beautiful hardcover book of his work. We traded emails with the daughter upon Nasirun’s request, since our English is “very delicious.”

Nasirun with his art (from storage)

We left to meet up with Maddie Krieder-Karlson ’10, who’s finishing up her Watson fellowship. We went back to the park per Sam’s suggestion. A band was setting up, and Termana (our program coordinator) joked about us singing a duet. I laughed along with everyone else, but we were taken seriously. Suddenly, Termana and I found ourselves onstage, singing with the band. (PICTURES) I was nervous at first, but as is the Indonesian way, everyone was really supportive and we had a great time messing up the words to 5 songs.

Termana and me singing with the band

The next day, we had class (Yes! On a Saturday!) and then drove to Ngawi, East Jawa, to a village called Seker Aras where Aisha will be doing her field research. (See Maddie’s previous post for more details about the trip there and back.)

We went to bed early in anticipation of another long day. We awoke at 7 am and visited the rice paddies, cemetery, and cow shed. The past 2 harvests have failed, and the virus causing the drought in the rice fields was highly visible. In spite of the recent economic hardships, though, everyone was friendly and welcoming. As we walked, children giggled and followed, so that by the time we got back to the house, there were at least 10 children in tow. Sari (Bram’s wife and our other host) explained that the kids came over every day (when they’re not in school) to play, learn to use the computer, and eat. After 2 failed harvests, their parents are migrant laborers, so the kids go to Sari and Bram’s instead of sitting home alone.

The community cow shed in Ngawi

The kids were really cute and tried to help us with our Bahasa Indonesia. We played mancala and checkers with them and did puzzles while lunch was prepared. Some of Sari’s older students arrived and we talked about school, learning English, and boys. The girls both hope to continue onto college, if they get scholarships.

Even though we were still in Jawa, Ngawi felt as if it were worlds away from Jogja. Although the food was very similar, and the people were equally friendly, the landscape and the different markers of economic hardship really illuminated Indonesia’s diversity. Jogja isn’t a wealthy city (a big lunch here is usually between $1 and $2 USD), but it’s a city in some ways reminiscent of Philly or Newark. Although poverty is visible, it is somehow downplayed by virtue of the urban setting. The trip definitely put things into perspective, and left us all with a lot to think about.

Today, back in Jogja, some kids walked past and pointed, screaming “bule!” at us. Bule means white person in Bahasa Indonesia, and although we’ve been told it isn’t pejorative, it’s still always a surprise to hear yourself addressed as such. Most everyone recognizes that we’re not here as tourists, but students, but I still feel othered by it. I’ll write more about this later, but wanted to introduce the idea here, in conjunction with our weekend in Ngawi.

Or A Post About Mundane Things I Find Interesting

JALAN
Indonesian traffic is a cultural experience in itself. Lanes are usually marked on the roads, but they’re more of a loose suggestion than a hard and fast rule. Sometimes there will be discernable lanes of traffic; other times cars will drive down the middle of the road for no particular reason. In most of Jogja, motorbikes seem to outnumber cars 5-to-1.

Pedicab and snoozing driver

They weave in and out of other traffic and usually make better time than the cars. Most carry one or two passengers but some carry four or five, with children wedged between adults or sitting in front of the driver. Other common forms of transportation include pedicabs (which are slowly disappearing in Indonesia in part due to government efforts – Jogja is one of the last holdouts), horse drawn carriages, and bicycles.

We’ve had a car for the last few days (because we went to the East Java village of Sekar Alas for the weekend), but at the beginning we walked everywhere. Walking in Jogja is also a different experience because sidewalks exist in some places but can’t be counted upon. Uncovered manholes and broken cement are everywhere make open-mouthed tourist gawking perilous. Whoever walks in the front of our group is in charge of yelling “hati-hati!” to warn the others of sudden drops. Termana literally pushed us further to the side of the road a few times in the first few days – pedestrians just have to be a lot more alert than we’re used to.

Because crosswalks are rare and traffic on most roads is constant, Termana also had to teach us the Indonesian Theory of Road Crossing. Basically you slowly step out into the road until you’re far enough out that traffic can no longer swerve around you and is forced to at least slow down. If you try to cross too quickly the traffic won’t have time to react. If you wait for a gap in the traffic – as a group of us did early on when we ventured out alone to buy groceries – you will likely be on the side of the road for hours. Right-of-way rules for driving are similar. Many intersections on busy roads don’t have stoplights, so cars inch into oncoming traffic until other drivers have no choice but to slow. In some places there are men who will (for a tip) wave, whistle, and even stand in front of traffic to assist you pull out of a parking space, merge, or make a U-turn.

BAJU

Room for prayer at a gas station reststop

Many Muslim women in the East and Central Java towns we drove through this weekend wear long skirts and sit “side saddle” as motorbike passengers. In Jogja, however, it’s not uncommon to see women wearing headscarves (I think they’re called jilbab) and driving motorbikes in skinny jeans and heels. This sight struck me as bizarre at first, I think because my conception of conservative Muslim women was based on the Arab women of American media focus. Maybe I’m just ignorant, but until I started doing basic research about Indonesia as part of applying for the IRP, I wasn’t aware of Islam’s predominance in Indonesia and on Java in particular. In fact, Indonesia is home to the world’s largest Muslim population. The jilbab – as I learned from a magazine article today – is actually a relatively new phenomenon in Indonesia, its popularity rising in tandem with the development of the Internet, which connected more and more Indonesians with Arab Muslims. However, Indonesian Muslims seem to have put their own twist on ideas imported from the Middle East, allowing for beautiful batik coverings or for the pairing of headscarves with skinny jeans.

BAHASA
Our gurus at the Universitas Sanata Dharma are also young and fashionable – but mostly Christian, because the university is Jesuit. Kelas is both fun and difficult. Indonesian is a very beautiful and interesting language. I hope we learn more about its origins in class in Bali, but I remember reading that Indonesia has more than 200 languages and that the Dutch colonial officials basically chose the language that was to become Indonesian and sculpted it to be an appropriate language of politics and business. In many ways, it’s much simpler than other major languages. Take the sentence “Kemarin saya bangun jam tujuh,” (I woke up at 7 o’clock yesterday), for example:

• Saya in this context means I, but it can also mean me (teman-teman panggil saya Mads = my friends call me Mads) or my (buku saya = my book). There is also a less formal form (aku) to remember, but I can’t help but compare it to French, in which the same functions are served by a half-dozen words differing by quantity, gender, and whether they start with a vowel.
• There is no verb conjugation. If you wanted to say that he wakes up at 7 o’clock, you would say dia bangun. They wake up would be mereka bangun. And so on.
• Numbers make a lot of sense. All you have to do is memorize 1-11 and then words designating teens (belas), tens (puluh), hundreds (ratus), and so on. Thus 2 is dua, 12 is dua belas, 21 is dua puluh satu, 212 is dua ratus dua belas, etc. Add the prefix ke- to any number and you know how to write ordinal numbers. It must be incredibly frustrating for Indonesians to have to learn two, twelve, and twenty-one, and then second, twelfth, and twenty-first. Or French, where 94 literally translates to “four-twenty-fourteen.” Many words also work in the same, logical way. For example, if you know the words selamat (safe or happy), makan (meal), and pagi (morning), you can form the phrases makan pagi (breakfast), selamat pagi (good morning), and selamat makan (bon appetite).
• Tenses are usually expressed in context. If you say yesterday, the audience knows to assume you’re talking about the past – specifically, yesterday. There’s no need to fiddle with the verb or add an auxiliary verb. It makes so much sense.

We’ve had class for six days now and I feel like I’ve learned the equivalent of the first year of taking French. I’ve been told that the patterns of the language get more complicated as you advance (lots of prefixes and suffixes, for example), but for now it’s nice to be able to express simple ideas so quickly.

MAKANAN

Some of the most useful words we’ve learned have to do with food and buying. While in the first few days we ate at nice sit-down restaurants – to give our stomachs an easy adjustment – now we mostly buy meals from food stalls. Street food here is a more of a meal option than in the States. The average warung offers several entrée options that come on real plates and with fresh juice, tea, or ginger drink. Some stalls offer picnic tables or stools, others give you a mat to sit on, and others provide only the curb.  Most street meals cost 10,000-20,000 rupiah (and $1 = IDR 8,500 – do the math). One night we ate at a beautiful Javanese restaurant that offered live Javanese music. An entrée, a fresh guava juice, and a homemade raspberry, mango and passion fruit ice cream still cost me less than $10.

Pictured here is a meal we had in Sekar Alas (I think Jen will write about our trip this weekend). It’s a pretty typical

Indonesian meal because it includes rice, tempe, chicken, some sort of soup, and several options to make everything spicier. The things wrapped in banana leaves on the left are some sort of dessert made from banana and coconut milk – delicious.

Well that’s all I have for now.  Don’t quote me on any of those specific details (especially about grammar) because I’m still learning.  Jen says she’s got a post in the works, so expect another soon.

Touring Kampung Halaman

Thursday afternoon we went to Kampung Halaman, an NGO on the outskirts of Jogja that sponsors young student filmmakers. Kampung Halaman is a mentorship program that provides these students with the resources necessary to make and produce films about relevant issues affecting Indonesian youth. In addition to being an amazing organization, Kampung Halaman is literally paradise: nestled far off a back road somewhere outside of the city limits, the property overlooks a river that serves as both a fish hatchery as well as a swimming pool for the neighborhood children and cows.

A neighbor farming water spinach

After the tour, we went inside and viewed some of the films, two of which were produced by filmmakers present that day. The most remarkable movie for me was entitled “17 tahun keatas,” or “seventeen or older???” Elinah, the filmmaker, sat with us shyly as we watched her documentary on the effects of early marriages on the youth of her home village: Indramayu. We heard testimonies of girls who got married as young as 13, and were divorced by 15. They spoke about their experiences and the stigmas attached to continuing education (junior high school and senior high school), as well as the economical imperative driving such young arranged marriages. Standard bride price was about 100,000 IRP (roughly $12.50 USD). Although officially a girl must be at least 17 in order to be married in Indramayu, as one young woman explained, underage girls can be “upgraded” to age 17 in order to legally wed. The result: many young widows, even more young divorceés, and patterns of “serial marriage”. The alternative: migrant labor or sex work.

The movie concluded with some of the village girls speaking out against young arranged marriages. The messages were both personal and universal: although they addressed their parents and the people of Indramayu, their words resonated beyond the village limits and asked for all girls everywhere to continue their education.

Speaking with Elinah was one of the most inspiring conversations I have ever been a part of. Her perseverance and motivation to stay in school, in spite of her parent’s wishes for her to marry or get a job, were remarkable. Not only was Elinah able to complete her high school education, she has persuaded her parents to allow her to pursue a college degree. She’s currently waiting to hear back about a scholarship.

When Susan asked how she managed to convince her parents to let her remain unmarried, she said that she was lucky because “no one had asked her yet.” In Indramayu, it’s considered bad luck to refuse the first marriage proposal, so, Elinah jokingly explained, she considered herself very fortunate to never have been asked.

Although it’s probably trite and cliché, Elinah’s story, as well as her accomplishments, truly impacted me. She doesn’t speak English yet, but she is trying to learn so hopefully she will be able to participate in the research program next summer. We exchanged emails and I hope to show her film at Haverford next year!

The past few days have been a total sensory overload: lots of Bahasa Indonesia class, exploring Jogja, and meeting new people. We’re staying at Wisma Universitas Sanata Dharma, which literally means Sanata Dharma University Hotel (it’s student housing), 2 blocks from the building where we have class, and quite close to a mosque as well. The call to prayer is like clockwork: every morning at about 4:30 the sounds of the muezzin fill the house, followed by two warring roosters determined not to be outdone by the call to prayer. The contrast between the beauty of the prayers and the roosters is astounding (especially considering my diehard bird affinity!).

Yesterday our class went to Pasar Bring Hardjo (the traditional market) and Mirota Batik (the Batik market) to practice conversation and bartering. The vast majority of vendors and shoppers were patient and friendly with us, and many would proclaim “Barak Obama!” as soon as they heard someone speak English. A man approached Bridget and said he was Obama’s brother, and Bridget humored him by responding “then we’re related!” At first, I thought the connection was based purely on skin color, but the proclamation wasn’t solely directed toward her; we were all greeted by chanting Obama supporters. We later concluded that this allegiance was due at least in part to the affinity Indonesians feel toward the President as someone who spent a substantial amount of his childhood in Indonesia.

That night, we had a discussion with Hasan, a friend of Termana’s and PhD candidate in Anthropology about Islam Jawa (Javanese Islam). Hasan spoke about the politics of colonialism in Indonesia as they relate to the spread of Islam and other religious movements throughout the country. By the end of our talk, the conversation had come full- circle and we were once again discussing current politics, the US and Western imperialism, and Obama.

I’m sure there’s lots I’m forgetting, but today was a very full day and I have to belajar PR (study the homework). Selamat malam!

PS: Pictures to come later today!

(I wrote this last night but have only now had reliable enough internet to post)

If there’s ever a time to live by the mantra the way is the destination, it’s on a trans-pacific flight.  I tried to enjoy the time (just about 24 hours in the air, not that anyone’s counting) as it was, and didn’t indulge in counting down until the last hours of the Taipei-Denpasar flight, as lush green islands and volcanoes began to emerge through the cloud cover.  I left North Carolina Friday night, flying with Kelsey to Los Angeles.  In LAX we met up with Jen, Susan, and Bridget.  After the 13-hour flight to Taiwan (on which we discovered that Chinese plane food is just about as unappealing as the Western variety), we met up
with Aisha in the Taipei airport.  I’ll take a moment here to introduce the cast of characters:

• Kelsey (BMC ’12) will be working with me (HC ’13) at the 1965 Park Community in Denpasar, Bali
• Jen (HC ’12) will partner with Yayasan Kerti Praja, also in Denpasar
• Susan (BMC ’13) will be doing research with PUSDEP, the Center for History and Political Ethics, in Jogjakarta, Java
• Bridget’s (BMC ’12) research will relate to her Cities major and will be in Jogjakarta
• Aisha (HC ’14) will partner with Subur Gemini Nastiti, 3 hours outside of Jogjakarta

Sanur Beach

We finally arrived in Denpasar Sunday afternoon (local time).  Termana (the in-country coordinator) and Ika met us at the airport and we all took taxis to a lovely little hotel in Sanur.  We got a taste of downtown Denpasar, including (I’m big into lists):

• Countless woodworking shops and studios, many displaying gargantuan
• and intricately cared statues
• Open-air stores displaying dozens of varieties of sodas and chipsWomen wearing headscarves; women wearing short sundresses
  A man transporting several water jugs on a motorbike
• A motorbike passenger carrying a bicycle above his head
• A family of five on a motorbike

We settled into our hotel rooms and then took a quick swim in the ocean.  The beaches were packed with people because it was a

Dinner in Sanur

Sunday and a holiday (Ika described the holiday as “Hindu Christmas”), but we found a relatively quiet stretch of sandbar.  We also found and befriended an adorable orange fish that looked exactly like a leaf. Later we walked down a stone walkway parallel to the beach.  The walkway was crowded with people, with bikes trilling as they weaved in and out.  It was lined with brightly colored stalls hawking everything from fried food to patchwork purses to tacky souvenirs.  On the way back to the hotel we chose an outdoor restaurant and sat down for our first Indonesian meal.  I ordered sate ayam, which came on a trough of live embers.  Everything was delicious, there was a cool salty breeze coming in from the ocean, and we even managed to keep up a conversation despite our jetlag.  We talked about American politics (Termana had heard of Congressmen Weiner and the Tea Party and wanted to know if we though Obama would win the election), English figures of speeche (“twist my arm”), and cultural differences.  It was a lovely evening, but we were ready for bed by 9.

IRP interns and PUSDEP staff

We got up at 4am today to fly to Jogjakarta.  We checked into our guesthouses at the Universitas Sanata Dharma, took a quick nap, and then went to the campus for orientation and lunch with the PUSDEP staff.  Aisha, Jen, Kelsey and I went grocery shopping (so many strange and colorful jellies and snacks!) then went to an internet café (where we struggled to communicate with a clerk who knew only a little more English than we Indonesian).  Dinner tonight was at a delicious vegetarian place a few blocks away.  We each got a scoop of rice with several side dishes.  Jen and I both loved the sweet-and-spicy peanut-brittle-like tofu-based side and the mushroom kebabs.

It’s getting late (not that my body really knows) and we start classes tomorrow, so I’ll leave you with a list of juices I’ve had so far:

• Papaya milk juice, at a restaurant in the Taipei airport: strange, frothy and delicious
• Lychee juice, recommended by my dear friend and IRP alum Jacki
• Melon milkshake, from the vegetarian restaurant: thin and light, but creamy and refreshing

Sorry for the bad picture quality.  I’m going to start using a nicer camera soon and I’ll hopefully have better internet access in the future.

Yesterday I made a last-minute run to Target to get a few things I still needed to pack for my trip. As I was approaching the checkout counter I remembered what Ayu, the staff member at YKP who will be overseeing my research, had suggested to me in an email: she recommended that instead of bringing a small souvenir of chocolates that I instead bring an assortment of condoms for the clients (HIV- positive women, some of whom engage in sex work). She explained that “the girls love getting one or two foreign condoms in fun colors” and that the gesture would be more appreciated than a generic box of candy.

So, I swung back around to the pharmaceutical section and grabbed 2 boxes of assorted condoms- one Durex, the other Trojan.

I walked up to the express checkout, not realizing that my purchases would be construed as anything out of the ordinary. The cashier did not agree. As he processed my order, eyebrows were raised, and an audible sigh escaped from his mouth. He would not look me straight in the eye, even when I said “thank you.” I’m pretty sure he wasn’t judging my toothpaste brand selection, rather, he was taken aback that I was purchasing 36 assorted “fun” condoms.

Perhaps I went into this situation with the wrong attitude. I assumed that, being a twenty-one year old woman in a relatively liberal area of New Jersey, I could procure contraceptives without being second- guessed. I found the whole incident perplexing, and went home and talked to my mom and grandma about it. As soon as I told them what I had bought they burst into laughter. My grandma explained that “back in my day, a woman NEVER bought contraception! And it was always behind the counter, you had to ask for it!” Both she and my mom continued to chuckle about my interaction, noting that  it was demonstrative both of how progressive our community is, as well as how it highlighted lingering prejudices and gender inequalities.

Condoms are tricky: they are an effective contraceptive and can protect against STIs.They also serve as a proverbial scarlet letter. Purchasing or owning condoms is a very clear marker of sexual activity. And, as my experience at Target demonstrates, even if the objective is to promote safer sex, the reminder can still provoke feelings of discomfort.

For now, I can only wonder what condom use and distribution is like in Indonesia. However, knowing what I do about the prevalence of HIV/AIDS in Bali, especially as a result of sex tourism, I cannot imagine the topic being any less taboo. I don’t really have a concluding thought, other than I’m glad I was able to purchase them for YKP, and I look forward to learning about the women’s experiences with contraception.