But It turned out to be a great show plus I provided forum for 3 other people to perform besides myself. Didn't realize It at first until I went back to say goodbye.
 There in front of me was an old Dutch colonial house where I had once lived. I saw the front door. People said the house was empty and no one lived there anymore. The house had not been painted for a long time. But the door was opening and closing in the wind. There was someone behind the flapping door.

CONTENTS

On this beautiful full moon night, it has been a month since I did 3 shows in Indonesia collaborating with Wirastuti Susilaningtyas, Misbach Bilok from Indonesia, and Koyano Tetsuro from Japan
And it was such a pleasure to use the language again. I had forgotten that I had such a rich resource. The language all came back, peeling out of its compressed state like
shreds of bark, blooming and renewing me.
 Java is still all there since I left it but just in a more modern setting with all the delicacy of electronic devices.
Strange that in Surakarta I performed just by coincidence, across from where I lived 40 years ago, and yet how difficult It had been to find this place (Rumah Banjarsari) on the day of the performance even with google maps!

I had stayed there in 1978 alright. But then the lady came out and I knew it was her.!  I talked with the performing arts space and they said they knew this woman that she came over often asking questions over and over again. They have to repeat so they figure she had lost her memory. They brought me over to talk with her.
But this woman did not remember me but invited me in. I even recognized the room I stayed in and the shadows of the shuttered windows on the walls. The place was exactly the same as when I was there years before. We sat down with this woman and she did not remember me but asked me to stay in my old room again sometime. She lived alone with several servants as she had done when she was younger. 
 I passed into the vortex of my past like a time machine.
 It came back to me the letters of homesickness I had written my mum and had felt so displaced and from my home to come live in a foreign country even though it was under a Fulbright Grant. I remember feeling displaced because I did not want to go back to school and study and memorize Javanese dance classes. A whole other episode of my life. I just wanted to be free to do artwork as I was already selling in galleries then. But now my work was to come to have an ethnic influence as everyone always says there is an influence from Indonesia and Japan.
Just 35 years ago, everything was so different. I was lucky to have been in Indonesia then with no cars, just bicycles and rickshaws and public transport. And people gathered around on benches on street corners in the warm evenings to talk and chat while drinking hot ginger tea and fried taro root. But now no more, just get around using Uber and smart phones.

Awaken from deep sleep at dawn, From the plane window, red and orange tall huge buildings irritate the landscape. I have arrived in China. But the day Turns out clear and Glorious imbued with fresh Sun and we drive through landscapes of yellow flowers and green golden bushes, along rivers, a clear open road in late summer into the mountains.
Stop to try to get a coffee. In my sleepy stupor.
My image of the great wall was walking on rubble climbing up onto an old road In
the fog but instead they pick you up with a chairlift floating in silence over the trees
over chestnuts. I could have stayed out there for hours and walked up over the dark shadowed side of the wall- It was nice to be out there, to see the meandering wall following the terrain winding over miles of tree filled Stone
mountains.

December 31st, it was the last day of the year ...an amazing ritual 
We went up to the Mountain to visit the temple so many people with their "hijabs" They were taking selfies wearing Hindu style sarongs. In order to escape the crowds, we followed some folks into the gated area for prayer. The bell rang continuously and it cleared my mind shedding the old year away. But their ritual Seemed to go on for hours. The intimacy of the event affected me, how close they were to each other The young lady proceeded into a trance and took a cigarette and shivered and smoked on as they asked her questions. She had become the spirit.
Suddenly on the side I had a huge coughing fit, I don't know if I had gotten some of the energy.
I enjoyed the freedom of walks in the evening air. Walking to the smells of the sweet satay smoke and the long and lonely call of the Masjid little shops shining green in the early evening light. I bought dried Tempe chips to bring home. meeting old friends after 35 years.
As I performed for my third performance in Indonesia I could hear the frogs and lizards with their song. Indonesia has so many sounds

This trip was definitely like a Pilgrimage back to a rich set of experiences. For so long I have keep my years in Indonesia in the background, letting the next adventure lead me
on. I presuming my previous experiences were not worth much because I had already experienced them and to speak the language was easy and anyone could do it. That is not necessarily so, such a richness just speaks to anyone. I wanted to give back that was given to me and see old friends from 30-40 Years ago, whom were still there where I had left them still remembering me, now we are all
older. I must have gotten just under the wire before people were gone or I was gone. I met some old friends that were painters and one painter Is 86 has property and money and made a Museum of her work. She is in a wheelchair part-time but ready to go travel abroad for an exhibition!
The other two artists are a little younger have huge card­board boxes of their paintings against all walls of their homes and such a dilemma what to do with the art.
I feel deeply enriched have always wanted to beautify the world by doing my art even though not always as coherent to everyone because my work contains many details
For example, one audience member said he thought he heard chants from the Koran in my music but it wasn't from the Koran. It was Buddhist chants I
had recorded in Myanmar. From a distance, we are all the
same, only the gestures of the dance are different. This trip has ahead a deep
meaning for me.

What an exciting thunderstorm. Many influences pass through me and Stick like threads shreds. Taking off from China the airplane was like a paper leaf floating quickly above blue roof tops lakes and ridges. I feel like I can see the Great Wall below-a big lake partially frozen with a big dam and a village under it. Blues and subtle oranges emerge under the wings of the plane.
passing over some sheep craggy mountains. Sunset gathers over thousands of mountains below. Bubbly clouds scatter in the horizon along strips of black clouds.

Looking down at all the motley ships in the water. looking like villages scattered as broken shards of a cup, their hulls shadowy in the ocean below.

Copyright 2018 ShaSha Higby