Independence Day and Celebrity

Yesterday was the official day for celebrating Indonesian independence from the Dutch. I had heard that our hotel would be having traditional games and contests during the morning hours to give Westerners and other Asians a feel for the way Indonesia has its fun. I watched what seemed like a gladiator-style pillow fight in the outdoor pool (?) and assumed that I'd just bum around with some friends, maybe catching a pole-climbing contest somewhere along the way. I was not expecting to find myself at a school for the blind, dancing to a live band playing reggae with a bunch of my fellow bule (foreigners/westerners/white people), taking photos with countless kids and their parents, and enjoying the free treats they gave us without a second thought. 

Indonesians are great dancers. They dance in what I can only describe as hippie dancing. I'm not joking. The dancers were mainly adults (including the resident police-man who was chain-smoking and rocking out with the rest of us); the children stood around and stared, the little girls wearing makeup (I am not sure why, maybe it has to do with the way they celebrate?) and shyly declining my invitations for them to come dance. But at some point someone decided we should start taking pictures together. I am going to guess I posed for about ten photos altogether, plus the three of four I arranged to have taken. I never imagined people would find it interesting to have their photos taken with me on the sole fact that I have white skin and speak English. But it was so much fun! I almost think I can deal with having creepy celebrity status if it gives me the chance to hang out with Indonesian kids and their parents, to dance and share beverages in plastic bags (that's how a lot of venders sell their drinks...) and take pictures together without understanding more than three words of what the other is saying.

All of the ETAs go our separate ways in just a little over 24 hours. I can't decide how I feel about this. I know it's the last time I'll be with 35 other American English-speakers for the next ten months, and I dread the moment we all really separate, but I can't help but wonder if the past three weeks bear no relation on what the next nine months will be like in Malang. I don't know what to think, I don't know how to feel, I am terrified about loneliness and long distances between friends, and I miss my friends from home. Jesus, yes. The depressing fact that the "friends" one makes in a three week orientation are nothing compared to the friends one's had for three or four years (or in Lindsay's case, just less than a year)---has sunk in for me. I can't give it too much thought. I don't want to find myself in the state I was in in England. 

What have I gotten myself into?

I want a kitten.