Unraveling Layers of Being

During my nine-month journey through Asia, I wanted to take time to volunteer. This was not just an opportunity to teach, but to immerse myself in communities, to understand people’s aspirations, and to see how connection forms beyond language. I found two English schools in Indonesia where I could work: one in Solo, a smaller city in Central Java, and another in Jakarta, the bustling capital. Each experience was different, and both left a lasting impact on me.

Teaching in Solo: A Glimpse into Local Life

My first stop was Solo, where I volunteered at a small English school with just four classrooms. The school welcomed kids from ages 5 to 10, along with some teenagers, who came after their regular school hours to improve their English. The Indonesian teachers were deeply committed to their students.

I stayed with the owner of the school, whose home was filled with warmth, family, and tradition. The household included two young daughters and their grandmother, who cooked traditional meals every day. Breakfast often included a sweet sticky rice cake known as lupis ketan, while lunches featured tempeh, vegetables, and noodles. I quickly developed a love for gado-gado (a peanut sauce salad) and bubur ayam (chicken congee), and my host family made sure I got to enjoy them regularly.

Living in a traditional Javanese home also came with adjustments, particularly with the bathroom setup. Instead of a conventional toilet, there was a squat toilet with a water basin (bak mandi) and a scoop (gayung) for flushing and cleaning—common in many Indonesian households. At first, it was unfamiliar, but I learned to adapt.

One of the most unexpected opportunities came when the dean of a nearby university heard about my visit. He invited me to give a lecture at Universitas Duta Bangsa in Surakarta — an opportunity they told me was rare since they had never met a volunteer from the U.S. before.

That Saturday morning, after a traditional Indonesian breakfast, I arrived at the university to find 50 to 70 students waiting quietly — shy, reserved, and hesitant to speak, as is common in Indonesian classrooms.

I was nervous too. It was my first time giving a presentation outside the U.S. to a group of students from a completely different cultural and religious background. I wasn’t sure how they would react, or if they would feel comfortable engaging.

At first, they listened politely, avoiding eye contact when I asked if they had questions. But as I shared my story—moving between countries, studying, and navigating the U.S. job market—I could feel the energy shift. Slowly, their curiosity took over and more hands started going up. By the end, the initial shyness had faded, replaced by excitement.

After the lecture, students lined up to take pictures with me—so many that it took a full 15 minutes to get through them all. Everyone was smiling, relaxed, and at ease.

This opportunity was a reminder that no matter where we come from, the desire to learn, connect, and exchange ideas is universal.

Jakarta: The Most Memorable Experience

From Solo, I traveled to Jakarta, where I volunteered at a very different kind of English school. Unlike the smaller school in Solo, this one was a boarding-style immersion program where students from all over Indonesia came to live and study English full-time. Some students commuted from home every day, but many stayed in the dorms, which felt like a close-knit community.

Many students were preparing for jobs — like one young man training to work on a cruise ship — while others were there simply to improve their skills.

Since I was staying inside the school, I became part of their daily routine. I wasn’t just teaching. I was learning alongside them, eating with them, and living in the same space. I would watch their daily habits.

I also witnessed their dedication to prayer.

Many students were Muslims. They prayed five times a day, always following a structured ritual. No matter what was happening during the day, when it was time to pray, they would pause everything and go to a quiet space. It was a practice of discipline, devotion, and stillness—a stark contrast to the high-energy, joke-filled environment of our English classes.

What made this volunteering experience so special was that the students were my age. They introduced me to local street stalls, fried chicken, and even cooked Indomie for me one night, making sure I had the “tastiest” version of the famous instant noodles. Humor was a constant in the classroom, and even when I was formally teaching, the lessons were filled with jokes and playful energy.

The school had multiple locations, so I traveled between different sites, giving presentations, leading discussions, and engaging students in conversation. One class of young kids wanted to sing, so we ended up doing a full performance of Love Yourself by Justin Bieber.

Beyond the classroom, I formed a close friendship with a student named Dinta. She was charismatic, loved to talk, and like me loved to eat. One evening, she invited me to her home, where her family’s housekeeper cooked for us.

When it was time for me to leave Jakarta, Dinta and a group of six friends insisted on taking me to my hotel before my flight. They piled into a tiny Volkswagen GTI, eight of us crammed into a car. The entire ride was filled with good energy. There was a language barrier at times, but it didn’t matter because human connection transcends words.

Lessons from Indonesia

Volunteering in Indonesia taught me that connection isn’t about where you are or how many people are around you. Whether in a small town like Solo or a massive city like Jakarta, what made my experience meaningful were the people: their kindness, their humor, and their openness to sharing their world with me.

I came to Indonesia thinking I was going to teach but left realizing how much I had learned. About cultural resilience, about how deeply people value education, about how human warmth can break through language barriers.

And most of all, I learned that the size of a town, the setting, or even the language spoken doesn’t determine how deep a connection can be. We can find common ground with anyone, anywhere. At the core, we are all the same.