Category Archives: Portland
A Twisted Park for Misfits
A giant crab looms over the entrance of Wisata Bahari Lamongan
The day began normally enough. I woke up at a friend’s house and took an Indonesian shower with a water-bucket and cloth, a new procedure for me. The previous night my companions informed me that we were embarking on some sort of adventure in the morning, and that I should get a decent night’s rest. This advice fell by the wayside, however, as I had been busy drinking Bintang and socializing with some new friends.
At any rate, the morning arrived, and we were now heading to Lamongan. I imagined a secluded beach, or perhaps a lagoon where a young man like myself could go for a swim, enjoy a nature walk, and maybe even fashion a crude tree fort of some kind. This preconceived vision couldn’t have been further from the truth. Wisata Bahari Lamongan (WBL) turned out to be a strange ocean-side amusement park, where the rides and attractions ranged from peculiar and queer to menacing and concerning. I was told it would be my kind of scene.
I took note of the entrance, a giant crab that beckoned visitors into its mandibles while simultaneously puking others out in one uninterrupted flow.
Once inside, the first place we stumbled into was a cat museum. But there were no rare or exotic felines in this establishment, just ordinary house cats behind glass windows. The odd thing wasn’t that cats were on display, but that each one’s room had its own unique theme. One looked like a boutique apartment you might find in Paris or London. Another room appeared to be a miniature nightclub, where a calico kitten was draped imperially over several bottles of Bacardi Silver and Chivas Regal. Strangely pleased, I was now confident that this sort of thing could be found nowhere else in the world.
Visitors play in the water park section of Wisata Bahari Lamongan.
Next was the Hospital of Horrors. The only thing horrifying about it was the fact that a fully grown Indonesian man was so afraid of the ketchup-spattered, string-operated mannequins that he kept grabbing my hand for a sense of security. This was awkward, especially because my language skills were not adequate enough to inform him that I could offer no protection from our automated attackers.
The roller coaster section of WBL was actually quite scary, partly because when I looked at the rides, the first thing I thought about was how long ago they were properly serviced. The first ride was a standard roller coaster, to which I felt safely strapped in. However, a 100-pound girl with a very poor excuse for a seat belt was now sitting in my lap. The feeling became very real that my arms were the only things preventing her from being catapulted into an oblivion beyond the edge of the rumbling track. The entire time she shrieked like the pod people from the Invasion of the Body Snatchers film.
As our car darted recklessly around several hairpin turns, I caught short glimpses of the beach that I’d pictured in my mind earlier that day. But it quickly disappeared, and was replaced by the open mouth of a giant clown face which soon passed through.
We boarded the next ride thinking it might be safer than the first one; never mind the rusty joints or the questionable operator. Wrong again. At first glance, it appeared to swing strictly in a pendulum motion, like those quintessential pirate ship rides. But suddenly it became evident that this ride would perform a complete circular revolution high in the sky. Although immediately regretful, we’d already committed to this centrifugal death device and there was no turning back.
A ride operates in the sun at WBL amusement park.
Clenching the rickety seat, while inverted 40 meters in the air and screeching like a child being mauled by a rottweiler, I peered down the coastline of Lamongan. There was a moment of silence just long enough for me to experience a feeling of euphoric elation. A sense of levity and nostalgia for Indonesia washed over me. I soon exhaled, let out a nervous cackle, then plummeted back to Earth.
Surabaya, Hesh and Swank
After reading in the Lonely Planet travel guide that Surabaya is not an easy city to love, I was inclined to agree at first. But now I think that statement may just be for impatient tourists and fickle vagrants. After enduring the crash course of my new job, meeting all the expats, and being treated like a rock-star by the locals. I am convinced that I could have set up shop nowhere else but here.
Creative Commons
Photo by Icha Black
A peculiar old place, Surabaya will immediately put travelers on their guard. Newbies will be dumbfounded by the roads and the transportation situation in general. Initially, it seems to be nothing less than pure chaos. The streets are packed with brain-sick motorcyclists, confused taxi drivers, and overconfident pedestrians, all of which help to create an unnavigable sea of vehicles. This is true without a doubt, but despite first impressions, there is indeed a cohesive system to the way it all works.
Photo by Icha Black
First, you must forget the western style of driving, which is being aware of your surroundings. In Indonesia, you must only be concerned with what’s in front of you. The things that occur behind you are the responsibility of others. Second, you shouldn’t make any sudden movements. All maneuvers (no matter how audacious) are indeed permitted, but must be executed in a smooth and predictable manner. Once you’ve mastered these two fundamentals, you’re ready to drive.
Most places in Indonesia don’t have large populations of Westerners, or “bules” to the natives. If you are wearing Ray Bans and have light skin, expect to receive stares from locals in Surabaya as you strut to the grocery store and back. If you’re a young man, then you’re sure to receive double the attention, as women will find you irresistible.
The word bule is a derogatory word Indonesians have for Westerners, but the expats are hardly offended by it, as it doesn’t imply second class citizenry; quite the opposite in fact. As a bule, you get an unofficial do-whatever-you-want pass. You’ll never be accused of stealing or contributing to the societal decay of Surabaya. You’ll also never be hassled by the police for anything more than a payoff, which is miniscule by western standards (the equivalent of $10 should usually suffice).
Photo by Icha Black
Although I’ve been here a month, it feels like a year. I’m learning 50 new things every single day, but I still have the language skills and vocabulary of a four-year-old. There is much more to say about these past few weeks in Surabaya, including a gang brawl, a near death experience with a shoddy theme park, a nostalgic waterfall excursion, and a zillion little things in between. I will begin posting regularly now that I’m set up properly, but for now let me leave you with this: If there is any place that can be both gritty and swanky at the same time, it’s Surabaya, Indonesia.
Slaughter at Jemursari Mosque
Living the American Nightmare
Michelle Smith
Michelle Smith claims to work for The Matrix. “I am looking for newbies, or people who are trying to escape The Matrix. I’m definitely trying to put them back in their appropriate cog,” says the young, wild-eyed woman amidst thousands of demonstrators who took to the streets in southwest Portland yesterday. With the aid of social media, the march was organized in support of the Occupy Wall Street movement currently happening in the financial district of New York City.
As helicopters circle the demonstration that is en route to Chapman Square, protesters express their outrage by chanting phrases like “We are the 99 percent!” and “Support our troops! Bring them Home!” Soon the march reaches its destination, and people begin to congregate around someone with a microphone in the adjacent Lownsdale Square. Despite warnings from police to stay out of the road, several young men proceed to mount the Thompson Elk statue in the middle of Main Street, shove American flags into its nostrils, and begin smoking pot.
The Portland protesters have passion, outrage, and enthusiasm by the truckload. But there’s just one problem. The demonstrators don’t seem to know why they’re here. Of course one could make the general assertion that this demonstration simply supports the one in New York, but a conscious observer probably wouldn’t be able to extract such thesis from the display here in Portland. No, this rally seems to be more of a taster’s choice buffet of activism, a sort of “insert cause here” demonstration.
Smith asks me if I can send her picture to her mother, as she stands next to a man wearing a knitted V for Vendetta mask and holding a sign high in the air that simply reads… “Fuck Plastic.” To add to the confusion, another man is wearing a chicken suit holding a sign that proclaims “the sky is fallin.” Elsewhere, another demonstrator has fashioned a type of pig suit with a gas mask attached to it.
“I came out here because for a long time I have been upset by the way our government is run,” says Amanda Mondroski in Pioneer Courthouse Square. “The corporations are not regulated.”
42 year old Satya Vayu says “I want to show my solidarity for those who want to live in a new world.” Vayu went on to explain how “a wealthy minority owns and controls most of our physical culture,” and is contributing to mass pollution of the planet, as well as the oppression of groups of people around the world.
When asked why he came out protest, the man in the chicken suit (named Zeb) babbled something about Sir Isaac Newton and ran away.
Protesters gather in Lownsdale Square Thursday afternoon.
Although the scope of Portland’s Occupy Wall Street movement has indeed morphed into something else all together, the mere fact that people have taken to the streets must count for something. And while the main objective of yesterday’s protest has become a bit foggy, demonstrators aren’t short of any gusto as they chant “Whose streets?! Our streets! Whose streets?! Our streets!”
Visit www.occupywallst.org for a proposed list of demands.
Dropping Out of the Rat Race, Teaching English Abroad.
Florence, Italy
If you’re like me, then you have an overpriced education under your belt, but are working dead end temp jobs to afford your crappy apartment. This can be depressing. I recently visited my former college town for the weekend, and encountered a bunch of intoxicated undergraduates. These kids were loving life because they haven’t yet entered post collegiate limbo. The place where you have a bit of experience, but not enough to land the job you want.
While there are many solutions to dealing with this inert stage in life, in my opinion, starting a career abroad may be a seductive option to people in their early 20’s. Why? Because recent grads have two things going for them: a newly acquired set of specialized skills, and (perhaps more importantly) a healthy lust for adventure.
If you received a BA degree, then you had to take two years of a foreign language already. A basic understanding of a foreign language puts you at an immediate advantage for teaching English abroad. This advantage is amplified if you’ve studied said language for longer, and/or if you’ve studied abroad.
So now you’re excited about the idea, and you want to pack your bags right this second to make your exodus. I like your enthusiasm, but you should consider a few things.
It’s a great idea to get your ESL (English as a Second Language) teaching certification prior to your departure. You may think that this teaching job you found on Craigslist is pretty solid, especially since it doesn’t even require you to be certified. It might be, but it might also be a sham, and it’s the last thing you want to gamble on. I can only imagine the horror of arriving in a foreign country only to realize that your job prospect has fallen through.
There are many avenues to go through to get your TESOL (Teachers of English to Speakers of Other Languages) or TEFL (Teaching English as a Foreign Language) certification, and both certifications are essentially the same thing. It can be done via your educational institute if you are still in college, or through organizations like Oxford Seminars. Usually these certification courses cost around $1200 and can be completed in the time span of an academic term, or within an accelerated one month program. The beauty of getting these certifications is that upon completion you are placed in a reliable academic institution abroad, and in some cases, given free room and board.
Naturally, the wages vary depending on the country you are living in and the institution that employs you, but it should always be enough to support yourself. The important thing to remember is that you are getting unique and valuable professional experience, while also having the time of your life. Who knows? You may even be able to squirrel away some of that money to start paying off your student loans.
The Mt. Tabor Theory
The Mt. Tabor Theater often seems like the ugly step sibling of all the big venues in Portland. While its main concert hall is comparable in size to venues like The Roseland or The Crystal Ballroom, and it does tend to snag a few of the big names that come through town like Del The Funky Homosapien, the Mt. Tabor doesn’t seem quite able to distinguish itself as a destination for artists that can pack buildings. Just down the street, The Hawthorne Theater frequently displays names on its marquee that generate sizeable crowds and lines of youthful fans that stretch down the street. So why does the Mt. Tabor often fall by the wayside while other mentioned venues have to fight famous people off with sticks? Here are a few possible reasons:
Geographic location: The Mt. Tabor is located on 47th and Hawthorne, just eight blocks East of the Hawthorne Theater. But perhaps this short distance is all that’s required to put a venue outside the jurisdiction of Portland’s popular performance culture. Some who live on the East side consider 39th (aka Cesar Chavez) to be a dividing line between what is still considered inner city, and what soon becomes a place too close to the Portland suburbs. Although, the location offers some fantastic dive bars. The theater is situated in the middle of what many locals call the “Barmuda Triangle” of Southeast Portland. Within a two block radius, one can visit The Tanker, Space Room Lounge, and Bar of the Gods (BOG), a few of the finer places to get drunk, shoot pool, and play dirty bingo (held at The Tanker, prizes include raunchy porn and strap on dildos). While the location’s chemistry does create a party-like atmosphere in its own microcosm, it still doesn’t generate the kind of foot traffic seen down the street at the Hawthorne or at the West side downtown concert halls.
Changes in ownership: Similar to Branx…or is it The Loveland? Meow Meow? Whatever that venue is that’s located on SE 3rd Ave. The Mt. Tabor has gone through some tumultuous management shifts. As a result of this, their organization and promotion is in a constant state of slop (Do not trust the dates posted on its website). Formerly Sabala’s, and prior to that it being Mt. Tabor Legacy, the theater has been passed around to several different owners who have not allowed the venue to grow into a firm community staple. Music and theater is just like any other business, meaning those in it tend to do continual business with reliable names and people they’ve worked with in the past. The fact that the spot has a new owner every few years creates a dilemma where touring artists don’t have a consistent contact within the venue.
Must be 21 +: This may be a strategy used by the owner to keep the place afloat financially. While there are performances on weeknights, turning the theater into a destination for bar flies has the potential to boost profits, apart from admission revenue. Sound good, right? Wrong. The fact of the matter is that a large portion of Portland’s live entertainment relies heavily on young people. Even concert goers who are of age often find themselves tied to friends who are not. In effect, because a 20-year-old girl can’t enter the Mt. Tabor without a fake ID, her 22-year-old boyfriend will not bother with it either. This also lowers the appeal to artists who know their music attracts an audience of a younger age. They will probably look down the street to The Hawthorne, which offers different sections for both kids and drinkers.
There is no exact science that indicates the success or failure of a venue, but perhaps the observable alchemy of the Mt. Tabor Theater can offer some insight into why it’s not selling out shows and hosting names like Devo or Crystal Castles. For now, the theater will continue to fly under the radar, host mainly local acts, and bank off drink sales, instead of trying to compete with its more popular siblings.
Funemployment
A good man (Les Claypool) once said, “Funny thing about weekends when you’re unemployed is that they don’t seem to mean as much. Except you get to hang out with your working friends.”
This is a concept I have suddenly been forced to come to grips with. As a recent college graduate, I thought I would take my newly acquired credentials and storm the gates of the professional world. I was wrong. Students with aspirations of world domination should not try to put on the big-boy-pants just yet. Why? Because we are deep within the trenches of a recession that leaves a sting in one’s eye similar to that of a freshly soiled airplane lavatory.
Not to say that it’s impossible to get a job, but getting the one you want is another story. So what can we in our early 20’s do to avoid using our food stamps as currency, and whoring ourselves out to anonymous fatties on craigslist? STAY HOME.
I learned this lesson the hard way. In an effort to take a step toward independence, I lived with my folks for only three months after college before securing my own apartment in Portland. I had a job and an internship at the time and believed I could pay my bills each month if I just made the right moves. But as life throws curve balls all too often in a recession of this caliber, I soon came to regret my hasty decision to leave the womb-like environment of my parents’ home.
Richard Settersten and Barbara E. Ray‘s book, Not Quite Adults: Why 20-Somethings are Choosing a Slower Path to Adulthood, and Why it’s Good for Everyone, explains why the majority of young people today are choosing to live with their parents during this economic drought. Reffering to the extreme difficulties of the job market, Settersten and Ray say, “these forces have shredded the old rule book for when to leave home, how long to spend in college, when to marry and settle down. The new rule book, meanwhile, is still being written, leaving much ambiguity and uncertainty for young people and their families as they try to make their way. It is a particularly perilous time for those least prepared in this high-stakes world—those, paradoxically, who rush out of the gates and embrace adulthood too quickly.”
So if you’re 23 and still live with your birth-givers, stay where you are, and pick up this book to feel better about your lack of autonomy.
l8oncosseboom.wordpress.com 