It has been three years since I moved to Sumatra from my comfortable life in California. Well, I suppose it wasn't the most comfortable mentally at that time, as I was at a crossroads where I had ended a relationship and wasn't moving forward on a documentary project...fortunately, I had found solace and way to help me get by. This little side business I had begun of buying bags from my friends in Sumatra, artisans I had met while filming my documentary, was starting to pick up and gain a lot of attention. Somehow an Instagram account I made on a whim had celebrities reaching out to me asking for a bag.
"Umm sure no problem!"
To, "Holy crap, what is going on here?!"
I knew I had to go back to Sumatra. All signs were pointing that way.
But being a traveler and visitor is one thing. But to live? What would that be like...
Well, for starters, it is tough. Really tough. I am literally on the other side of the world. Where phone calls are hard to come by because as I sleep my family is awake and vice versa. Curry and crazy, ethnic foods for days (I just want a damn sandwich!) and weird stomach problems, typhoid even and once I woke up with swollen purple eyes and I have no idea why. (Maybe I shouldn't have pet that darn cat...)
Don't even get me started on the toilet situation!
I could go on and on for days about the hardships, but I realize that this experience is a necessary and humbling one. This is how the majority of the world lives. What a greater appreciation I have for where I come from and what I was provided.
Only...there is a flip side...
Could there be lessons to learn from the villagers in Sumatra?
The answer is yes. These people know how to live! What a tight-knit community of individuals...everybody is hanging out together...be it on the streets or the cafes (Sumatra is home to the best coffee in the world)...going to the mosque...playing in the fields. I think it is next to impossible to ever feel alone here. And I believe, loneliness is something many Americans and people in the Western Hemisphere suffer from. That, and being overworked. And I can assure you, nobody overworks here! When I offer my artisans to work more and will pay them overtime, they laugh. They don't even have the term "overtime" in their vernacular. And mental illness or depression? It is practically nonexistent. I believe it is largely due to their sense of community, relaxed style and ease of living along with religious beliefs. I don't think they struggle much with existentialism. They believe everything is a part of God's plan. "Hana pue pue" which means "no worries" is definitely in their vernacular and sometimes I do get worried with how they conduct business or lack thereof.
I am ready to get back home. I do miss my friends and family...and a little wine and pizza...but I feel very good about what I am doing and wouldn't trade third world living for the world. I appreciate so much more the life I live back home!