Becoming Indonesian is no easy feat, and I’ve written about the major, mental hurdles faced by Volunteers living in Java. It’s tough, and that’s why every step of my integration over the past year—no matter how small–has been reason for celebration. No doubt, I’ve got a long way to go, and two years won’t be enough. However, I realize that Southeast Asia is also rubbing off on me in big ways, and I’m not the same kid who dazedly arrived in Surabaya last June. That said, here’s a list of my greatest Triumphs of Indo Integration.

(1) I ask ridiculous questions. – Other PCVs reading this point are no doubt rolling their eyes, mumbling, “That was so week three.” True. But for people back home, it’s nigh impossible to understand Indo small-talk without experiencing it. Instead of the American standards like “What’s up” or “How are you doing,” the basic Javanese repertoire includes “Have you already woken up” and the ever unforgettable “Have you eaten breakfast” (no doubt asked at 2:00PM). At first, I resisted. When asked “Have you gone home yet,” I’d make an effort to pull those Indo friends aside; draw attention to my arms, legs, feet, and hands; and then use that evidence to build a powerful argument that, no, I am in fact still here. However, that just caused confusion and made me feel like a jerk. Now, I roll with the pleasantries like they’re second nature, both dishing them out and responding to them in stride.

(2) I feel guilty eating alone. – Indonesians rarely do anything alone, especially eat meals. Example: at school teachers regularly celebrate receiving bonuses by buying cheap lunches for everyone. On these days, the scene in the guru room falls into a state of angst. Everyone clearly wants to dig in to their meal, but until they round up a critical mass of conspirators, nothing happens. This can easily take fifteen minutes. Likewise, I’ve been conditioned to feel guilty whenever I do make a solo trip to the juice shack or head to the store for snacks. My friend Andallas nabbed my with a sleeve of Oreos one day and summed up the sentiment: “Yes, It’s better if you do things together.”

(3) I think shorts are for plebes. – Who wears shorts in my village? Children and old men heading to the rice paddy, that’s who. Who doesn’t? Everybody else, especially teachers. That’s why I’ve fallen into a delicate limbo—wanting to assert my Americanness while not wanting to accentuate my otherness—when deciding what to wear for walks around the village. Over time, I’ve come to lean towards the conservative side, and I feel incredibly awkward making trips to the store when my knees are exposed.

(4) I can let (more) things go. – It’s not uncommon for bus drivers in my regency to pick up a load of passengers, take those peoples’ money, and then pull over to take a leak, eat lunch, and smoke a cigarette. No matter how long the wait is, no one ever complains. And I’ve learned to let my self-importance go as well. Is the driver still being a punk? Yeah. But is it worth causing a confrontation? Probably not. To an American, everyday Indo life is full of small slights—line-cutting, unfulfilled promises, general inconsiderateness—that can make for a tough service if Volunteers don’t learn to shift their perspectives and let things go.

(5) I can beat you in a wing-eating contest – Fact: I came to Indo with a shamefully weak stomach. However, for over a year, I’ve been hitting the dinner table gym three times a day, slowly increasing my servings of sambal, Indo’s staple chili sauce. You’d be impressed.

(6) I can say “thank you” and shut up. – I’d always been uncomfortable receiving unexpected gifts from friends. A balanced relationship between two people suddenly tilted into indebtedness—I hated that. Then I came to Indo, where to a shallow extent, gifts really are the currency of friendship. People here like to show their appreciation for one another in tangible ways, and on a regular basis, I come home with fresh milk, apples, peanuts, and free meals to show for it. It’s been a challenge learning to reciprocate the offerings, and it’s been even harder learning to accept them with grace. But I’m getting there.

(7) I can survive super long meetings. – No need to elaborate .

(8) I can deal with being bossed. –  I’m a everyday libertarian. If you found me stranded on a desert island, and then commanded me to sail away with you aboard your fancy yacht, I would decline out of sheer principle (and probably impolitely so). To me, everyday life in Indo is full of similar, tiny battles for self-autonomy, people trying to control and manage my me in often frustrating ways. Examples: since I’ve started typing this paragraph, fellow teachers have plopped breakfast on my desk twice, ordering me to eat. Then there was yesterday aboard the bus when the ticket hustler grabbed my arm and dragged me to a seat of his choosing–not mine. I used to be confrontational in those situations. “I’ll eat when I’m hungry” or physically pushing back, “I can find my own seat, thanks,” all the while struggling to hold back a flood of impolite thoughts. Now, one year later, I still bristle whenever I feel my basic rights being encroached upon (which truly happens every day); however, I’ve also made baby steps that help me deal with these situations more positively. For starters, I’ve been able to let go of my American “I do what I want” frame and come to terms with the conviction that Javanese bossiness is–more than anything–just a way for people to show that they care about me.