The Streets of Bandung

I step outside and my eyes are opened to this place. The way they live is so different and unfamiliar from the comforts of home, but this is home to them. It’s strange how normalcy for one person can feel completely foreign to another.

At first glance, I notice the buildings that seem to never end. They’re all connected, other than breaks for the road to run through. The roads are lined with locals selling street food and fresh juice. They stand there day in and day out, trying to make a living. The fresh coconut water, cracked open, with a straw to drink, is $0.73 well spent.

The motorcycles resemble herds of animals. They move through the traffic with ease, weaving in and out of vehicles, until there is enough space for their pack to reassemble. To cross from one side to the other, I put my hand up to signal the multitude to slow down, and step forward in confidence.

As I continue on my way, most of the citizens notice the outsider. Imagine how most people welcome newcomers at home. Now envision the opposite. That is how I am treated, how I am greeted. I receive smiles, hellos, questions, and requests for “selpies.” I feel accepted and honored to immerse myself into their culture for such a short time. It’s a pretty safe conclusion that many foreigners would not give this description about my home country.

However, not everyone is this friendly. We have encountered men who yell out in laughter. Thankfully, the gift of discernment helps to know when to keep walking and avoid difficult and uncomfortable situations. We don’t mind when friendly people ask for photos with us, but being recorded and photographed by strange men is where we draw the line and give a firm “No.”  

I enter a coffee shop and the barista knows a little English. He asks why I am in Bandung and remembers my friends that were there two days prior. He takes time to think through his words, and I reassure him that his English is good. He doubts himself, but tries anyway. This is true for most people I talk with. Language barriers don’t have to stop us from communicating. And google translate is a valuable asset.

I walk back to the school and am greeted by kind smiles and heart-felt hellos. We have been in Indonesia for two and a half short weeks, but are treated like family. The teachers want to know us, to spend time with us, to build relationships. Their actions show they value and honor us. And I feel the same about them.

There are so many things I wish I could share, but am unable to due to the privacy and safety of the people.

 

I know many of you are praying for me and I am so grateful. I ask that you also:

-Pray for the teachers, children, and families at the school.

-Pray for the people we encounter throughout the day (taxi drivers, baristas, people we pass on the street).

-Pray for my team and my squad: specifically, for health, healing, and spiritual armor.

-Pray for Indonesia.

On February 7^th we take a bus back to Jakarta to meet up with our squad. On the 8^th we fly to Malaysia where we will have a debrief before beginning our next month of ministry.

To continue on my race, I am still asking for support. I am $1871 away from my March 31^st deadline. If you feel led, you can donate here:

My blog: Laurenwatts.theworldrace.org

Venmo: @lwatts91

Paypal: paypal.me/lwatts91

Cashapp: $lwatts91

 

I am so grateful for each and every one of you. This journey is about so much more than me, and I hope you feel like you are part of it. Most of all, I hope you see God in it.