I have always loved studying different languages and cultures. So, when I was given the chance to learn Spanish and Indonesian during my last two years of high school, I eagerly signed up. I had moved from South Africa to Australia the year before, which meant I could no longer learn Afrikaans, so I was looking forward to starting both of these new languages.
Later, I decided to take a gap-year before university to put my new language skills into practice, and to take time out to think about my future. The last year of high school flew by, and I suddenly realized I was leaving all my university-bound friends for a year of travel to exotic locations. I bounced between excitement and jangling nerves until at last I was on my way to West Kalimantan, a remote island in Indonesia. I decided to go there after I had met an Indonesian diplomat who raved about his hometown, and who kindly offered to set up accommodations for me with the mayor and his wife. When I left, all I knew was that I would be staying in a beautiful coastal town, and that I would be teaching English in the local schools.
The first leg of my trip was not what I expected. I took a long and terrifying bus trip from Kucing, Malaysia, across the border to Indonesia. It was then that I realized just how rare it was for a buleh, or a person with pale skin and blue eyes, to travel to the region. People stared, called out, and followed me, asking questions in broken English. When I got off the bus to go through Customs at the Indonesian border, I pulled my hoodie right over my face and ignored shouted offers for coffee and a cigarette.
