Hello Mister!

Very different from Kuta,Bali
That ISO is getting up there isn't it?

Mark of the bule

I always used to think that the English language and modern American culture had been exported abroad so successfully that it was nigh impossible for someone like me to stick out as a huge anomaly when travelling overseas. Don’t get me wrong, there are places where western tourists very rarely if ever venture to, but I didn’t expect the fascination to be this strong.

Walking down every street I encounter many stares.  Some people go out of their way to say ‘hello’ or 'hello mister' which I guess could be considered a good thing, but the fact that I haven’t done anything to warrant this kind of attention only serves to highlight my primary feature which is that I am a ‘different’ person. A person who has too much money and doesn’t know jack shit about local prices.

The 50mm lens was made for this

Communication

It is very clear than English-speaking foreigners do not visit this area of the country often.

In fact I’ve yet to meet other foreigner travellers in Surabaya with the exception of one expat who I didn’t actually stumble to on the street. Communication is difficult around here.  Unlike back in southern Bali, the tourism industry doesn’t really exist here. English is not used in the city and I would also assume the same applies for the rest of Java (except perhaps Jakarta). The old American method of shouting out english words slowly will not get you anywhere at all around here. Those who do not wish to learn Bahasa Indonesian will gradually starve to death or eventually find themselves in a mental asylum.

Not only is communication a barrier but local customs and culture are very different from New Zealand and I assume most of the west as well. Almost everything I do denotes the fact that I am not from around here -the clothes I wear, the way I walk, how I navigate the city, how I approach people, even how I cross the road.

I will say however that it hasn’t always been a rough road. There have been numerous times where people have helped me - translated things, taught me basic words, paid for my meals or admission, even let me play a game of street football. When you’re alone in a country where you don’t speak the language, there are certain moments which restore your faith in humanity; and the only way I can adequately respond to it all is to pay it forward because I now know what’s like.

All sans-shoes.