The dust has settled. It has been almost two weeks since the wrap up of our program, and finally feeling like my head has caught up with my body in Berlin, I sit down to write about a few things that I feel I take with me following this experience.

What was most apparent to me throughout the experience, were the blindspots of privilege that would be made apparent at the most unexpected times.

Throughout my time there, I had two trips to Bali planned, and had spoken about it glibly while at work. I’ll be honest, I had thought nothing of it, and remember saying that it was a no brainer to go to Bali for the weekend as it took 2 hrs and 45 mins to drive to the closest local beach, but only an hour and 15 mins to fly to Bali. When asked about what I got up to I shared stories about my friends who own clubs, restaurants and villas in Bali and how I spent my time frequenting their establishments and living with them. I feel so silly now reiterating the things I said then, but I probably would have no awareness of how insensitive I was until one of the men I worked with said that he had only been to Bali once, and then only because of work, as it would cost him an entire month’s salary to go on a trip there. I had never felt like a bigger dickhead in my life, and still continue to feel a little ashamed at how ignorant I was to the people, environment and place I was despite having set out with the very intention to be otherwise.

I remember also a conversation with some other program members. We were discussing how we felt hungry all the time, despite eating the set number of meals one usually would, and one of the girls remarked that the chicken served was often more bone than meat, and she never felt there was enough on a plate. Following that conversation I started to notice how our lunch plates were filled at my work where we had a lovely ibu who cooked for us every afternoon. I realised, that the locals would often pile their plates high with rice and a single portion of protein and vegetables. While I am aware (being Asian myself) that Asians like eating rice, I knew also that a lot of them ate rice as the primary sustenance as it was cheaper. While I would sit in a lesehan and order two different fishes, vegetables and never finish my rice (carbs), my local friends would eat rice and an omelette or a piece of tempe. I suppose the prettied way to describe how I feel is humbled, but what it made me realise is how wasteful and entitled I am. More so I suppose, because it reminded me of my grandma and mother who grew up extremely poor in a village, and how far removed I have become from these experiences that I have always thought have played a large role in shaping who I am today.

I think when we read the books, listen to the lectures and write the papers, it is so easy to know the right things to subscribe to. It really isn’t unlike sitting in a pub in Fitzroy and knowing that the right things to say would be in support of veganism, feminism and non-mainstream music (but in that everyone has their own steez and we respect that kind of way). It’s easy to say that yes, you will be open-minded, and wear the shirt that covers your shoulders but is there really any true meeting of the culture u inhibit in doing that? How is true respect, empathy and understanding even possible when you sit within this space filtered and protected by the safety net of all that you have back home? I suppose it is these experiences living and working in the field that bring us closer to this understanding. For me, it was the simple, seemingly mundane activities of helping in the preparation and eating of food, having that chat between ‘official’ meetings by the motorbikes about family, the weekend or life, sitting idly in the angkringan drinking jamu and staring at our phones together (instagram is HUGE) and picking up the mic and participating in the impromptu office karaoke session that brought me closer into that space and with that a greater awareness of who I was in there.