What a trip!

Friends, in July, I got to do something pretty amazing, and it was all because of this.

I said good-bye to these beautiful people who I love more than life, and I boarded a plane.

And the plane took me from Ohio to Georgia to Nebraska. Where I met up with this other person who I love more than life.

That's my sister (Amy) and I at the airport way too early in the morning.

From Nebraska, we flew to Texas, and then we flew to Japan, where the landscape was lovely and the toilets come with instructions and deodorizers. 

Then we boarded our Japan Airlines flight, where the flight attendants have super cute uniforms, the food is arranged beautifully, and we lucked out with having the most foot room in economy seats EVER.

Why doesn't my 6'3" husband ever get seats like this? 

It was enjoyable but rather wasted on my 5'5" self.

Then our airplane landed in Jakarta, Indonesia—our final destination.

I watched more movies on these flights than I had watched in the past year—easily.

We successfully navigated customs and immigrations. Luckily, we could answer simply the questions positively: "You complicated? No extortion?" (Look at the middle of the picture below.)

Luggage took significantly longer. I think part of the problem is that I packed horribly, but it's hard to pack when you're going somewhere you've never been before and participating in cultural events that you are somewhat ignorant about, despite your best efforts. So I packed "just in case" for many scenarios, and definitely did not need all of them. On the other hand, my sister packed really sensibly and light, and I did end up lending her clothes, so . . . 

After almost exactly 48 hours in transit, we made it to our airbnb apartment. I think it was on the 42nd floor. Whatever the exact floor—it was very high.

Reunited with our brother (Peter) and meeting his then-fiancée, now-wife Alia, we ventured out for breakfast.

This is apparently a pretty typical breakfast. It's rice porridge cooked in coconut milk. The egg was hard boiled in red onion water. There's some shredded chicken, a spicy salsa, and fried peanuts. On the side is sambal (a different spicy salsa), some peanut chips, and some extruded shrimp chips.

After breakfast, Alia helped us shop. I found a really cool batik shirt and some sweet batik pants. I love them. They're so loose and bright and have really spacious pockets.

Batik is the word to describe a specific method of dyeing fabric using wax to make designs. It originated on the island of Java. Batik can also mean the actual fabric that was dyed that way. 

Alia then had to go to work, so Peter, Amy, and I had the rest of the day to explore the city.

The main ways of exploring the city are taxi, Uber, Grab (like Uber for motorcycles/scooters), and the bajay (a three-wheeled rickshaw). We opted for a taxi to take us to see the National Monument, "Monas."

This is a picture in the category of "Things I Rode Past that Looked Cool," 

forever forward labeled TIRPTLC.

TIRPTLC

We walked around the gardens for a bit, admired the monument, decided that the very long line was not for us and thus did not enter the monument, and got tied into a lengthy conversation with a man about the grand history of Indonesia and Islam. I got to show off my slick undetectable tipping skills, and we walked toward the other side of the park.

As we walked across the park, we noticed that a number of the sidewalks had bars going across them. Bars that were always at two different heights: one that was maybe twelve inches off the ground—perfect to trip you, and the other that was perhaps three feet off the ground—the right height to make limbo a little too hard. After much pondering during our trip about their purpose (to make life difficult? to make life exciting? to make every walk a gymnastic event?), we finally figured out that the bars must make it so motorcycles and scooters cannot ride on the sidewalk. So what we thought existed to make being a pedestrian harder, actually existed to make pedestrians safer.

We reached the end of the park and made a split second decision that later felt like it could have cost us our lives. Rather than Ubering, Grabbing, or hailing a cab, we jumped in a bajay! Amy's face pretty accurately expresses how we felt after making that quick decision.

At one memorable moment, the bajay driver completely disregarded the red light and crossed the intersection, expertly weaving through both lanes of traffic. It was terrifying and impressive at the same time. All in one piece, we made it to Kota. 

As our bajay driver drove away, we noticed this art on the back of his vehicle, so perhaps our driver was a little more adventurous than other bajay drivers.

Kota is the "Old Town" in Jakarta. It is what remains of where the Dutch ruled all of the Dutch East Indies. It was once known as Batavia. There are lots of shops, restaurants, and museums. In the middle is an open square with musicians playing and a few vendors walking around. The main activity seemed to be renting brightly colored bicycles and floppy hats with flowers. Bicycles appear to be something of a novelty here. It made for a very cheerful scene.

There were so many options of what to do with our time, and I have no idea what our decision making process was, but we ended up electing to tour the puppet museum, Wayang Museum. 

The museum was interesting with collections of puppets from various countries. The main exhibit was of wayang puppets. Wayang is a form of puppet theater art where the story is told using elaborate shadows. The word "wayang" or "bayang" (according to the internet) means "shadow" and "imagination." It can mean the actual puppet or the entire puppet show. Historically, these puppet shows would last from dusk to dawn. According to wikipedia: "Wayang today is both the most ancient and most popular form of puppet theatre in the world. Hundreds of people will stay up all night long to watch the superstar performers, dalang, who command extravagant fees and are international celebrities." Alia had mentioned to Peter that nowadays there is also an element of superstition involved in the shadow puppets.

Our tour of the museum began rather simply. We bought our tickets, took pictures at the entrance, and ventured in. We tried to understand the stories and folklore being told through the puppets and were getting a sort of vague idea of what was happening and a good helping of confusion was enjoyed as well. We passed a wall with a lot of Dutch on it that made my sister happy, reminding her of her time living in the Netherlands (as did all the Dutch food on this trip). (As I just perused the wikipedia site, I learned that the ground where the museum was built used to have a church on it, and the wall was commemorating some of the people that were buried there.)

After the wall, we entered a room with two items of great interest. The first was the creepiest puppets we've ever seen. I'm going to put them in the next picture. I'm sorry—you can't unsee them.

Creepy, right?

Then Peter noticed a door, which of course, he tried to open. It opened. Behind it was another door, a vault-like door. It also opened. Upon opening, it released the oldest-smelling air I have ever had the misfortune to smell. Amy and I pretended that we could travel like Eli and actually venture down this dark corridor, but yeah—that was not happening.

It's actually a really good thing that we decided to not go down that corridor, because pretty soon after choosing life, a group of giggling teenagers passed us. Then, the lights cut out. And much louder giggling and squealing and a little screaming ensued (from the teenagers—not us—we're so tough). We assume they somehow managed to turn the lights off? We're still unsure about this, but the museum was in darkness. We tried to call attention to it, but the guard? docent? we found seemed unconcerned. We used the flashlights on our cell phones to continue our tour. The puppets, being shadow puppets, were actually pretty amazing in the dark, so maybe the museum randomly cuts the lights at various moments so you can witness the shadows? I don't know, but it was dark. And there were stairs involved. And creepy puppets. And you know, darkness. So, it was a good time to be with family. And yes, we were still in the room with the creepy puppets that I shared with you above. So those were even better in the dark with a flashlight shining on them. Soooo much better.

After we survived, I mean, exited the museum, we decided it was time to eat, so we walked to the Cafe Batavia. It's the second oldest building in central Jakarta, and it was a pretty impressive edifice with a great view of the square. 

The restaurant was beautiful, and my brother cleans up pretty nicely.

We ordered too much food. Whoops. Whenever you ordered any kind of fried potato, it would be served with ketchup and sambal. So tasty. Do you see the eggs over on the left? In between the eggs and the bread is bacon. Beef bacon. So, I've now had bacon from pigs, turkeys, and cows. I wonder what will be next?

After eating, we asked our server for the dessert menu. To our surprise, he turned and walked away. (We're wondering, "what did we say??") But, he didn't walk far. He actually walked to the nearest post and started removing pictures from the wall. And then he handed them to us. My brother looks down and sees he's holding a framed picture of a naked lady. Umm—he asks for the dessert menu and you give him a picture of a naked lady? What are you trying to say?? What do you sell here?! The server didn't understand our confusion, and we completely did not understand his actions. Turns out, if you flip the pictures over, the dessert menu is attached to the back of the frame! Not pictured below: the naked lady.

It was at this restaurant that the now-famous Amy's "dessert face" was born.

This may only be funny to me and my siblings, but here you go anyway!

I loved the menus in Indonesia. They're just so confident. It will NOT disappoint you!

It's not really pink, but it's not really not pink, so . . . pink-ish?

So much goodness here: "grass jelly," "peaches filled with sweet surprise" (you don't even get to know what you're going to eat!), "moist raw cheesecake," and good old American apple pie.

Near the end of our meal, we noticed a commotion in the square. Huge—HUGE—puppets had exited one museum and then slowly dance walked through the crowd to disappear inside of another museum. We think this happens frequently on some sort of schedule. We tried to figure out who they were. The one in the middle kind of seemed like Pele. At least his jersey was the same number and color as Pele's jersey. That has to be too much for a coincedence, right?

As we were about to leave the square, we discovered that we were part of the exhibits. Groups of people lined up to take pictures with us. It felt a little strange to be so noticed.

The next day was spa day with Alia. She had a whole day scheduled at Martha Tilaar Center Spa from the bridal package. Amy and I opted to have a back massage and a mani/pedi. Then in a moment of "Why not?! We're in Indonesia!" we decided to add a ratus treatment to our day. Alia was an amazing bargainer. I paid for our services, and then Alia was like "nuh uh." She finagled a discount and informed the spa that they would call and pay for our Uber (because Amy and I were going to finish before her). Impressively, the spa then refunded my first payment, and I paid again, this time a lower price. Alia has skills. (I think the discount had something to do with an agreement between the spa and Alia's employer?) It was a very elegant spa, and the staff was very courteous. There was a little confusion with one of the Boling girls about how much clothing was to be removed and when and how, but we don't need to go into that.

The spa entrance

This is the stool you sit on for the ratus treatment.

Here we are ready to be smoked! The smoke is supposed to cleanse, tighten, and odorize. It is said to kill bacteria and just generally freshen you up. It is traditionally only performed for married women or women about to be married. It appears to be pretty common there. Some women have this treatment monthly.

This is the actual ratus on charcoal that is placed on the floor under the stool.

Things got a little smoky, and we got a little silly.

Alia stayed at the spa for her full package, and Amy and I returned to meet up with Pete at the apartment complex for a swim and some food.

Apparently in an effort to get young people to eat healthier food, bananas are marketed in Indonesia individually wrapped and labeled "single and available." It was a pretty fitting snack for this soon-to-be-a-bachelor-no-longer.

Amy wasn't that hungry, so she "just ordered the French toast." Ha. It was huge, and came with shredded cheese and chocolate sauce.

I decided to be healthy and order a salad. 

Do you see what the last salad option on the menu is?

I devoured that salad.

And thus another day in Indonesia came to a close. And the last sibling arrived; our brother Daniel was now here to join in the excitement.

Because I'm a fun kind of girl, I convinced my siblings to walk over and explore the cemetery across the street from our apartment complex. 

Since Dan wasn't with us when we endured, I mean, enjoyed our first bajay ride, we decided to tempt fate and ride one again! (This time with no devil painted on the back.) But who's missing in this picture?

Amy got the real thrill! I thought she might sit on my lap or something, but she ended up in front with the driver, which in hindsight, we're pretty sure is illegal. The driver doesn't have a steering wheel but handles like a motorcycle, and there's no way Amy wasn't slightly hampering his ability to maneuver. And Amy got a front row seat to all the action that is driving in a bajay.

Alia was very surprised we were riding in bajays. Apparently they were once a very common form of transportation, but they aren't super safe. With the the cost of taxi rides going down and the availability of Uber and Grab, Alia didn't think she had ridden in a bajay since middle school.

Amy and I had a Muslim bridal shower (not the American kind you're thinking of) to go to at Alia's parents' house later that day, so Dan and Peter decided that perhaps they might get some school and work, respectively, done. We took the bajay in search of some reliable internet. That landed us at this cafe: Goedkoop. ("Good cup" in Dutch, perhaps?) We had difficulty finding it. It required walking up and down the same street (passing it) and asking various people on the street where it was. And its internet was not as reliable as hoped (it did have internet, but Pete and Dan needed high speed for what they were doing), but the hot chocolate was delicious!

And as appeared to always be the case in Indonesia, the menu did not disappoint. I'm sure this actually means something, but as someone who does not know what it means, it made me laugh. It's not mayonnaise: It's "wannabe mayo." 
Also, poffertjes are really delicious. And the pannekoek was very good.

Having experienced the taxi, the Uber, and the bajay, we decided it was time to experience the Grab. So, Amy and I Grabbed back to the apartment where Alia had an Uber driver waiting to take us to her parents' house in the suburbs of Jakarta. It was about an hour trip—an hour Ubering, not an hour Grabbing.

Historically, it appears that the custom is for the groom to stay outside of the bride's parents' house during the Qur'an reading and bridal shower and then spend the entire night sleeping outside in front of the house with the next day being the wedding. But it was apparently deemed that Peter did not have to partake of that tradition. Thus Peter and Daniel were left with a day to entertain themselves while the ladies were busy. Not to be undone by the sisters, the brothers also Grabbed.

(Daniel is in the gray shirt with the green helmet.)

I'm honestly struggling to find the right words to convey how much being invited to witness the Holy Qur'an reading and the bridal shower meant to me. To express how welcome everyone made us feel. And to get across the intimacy, solemnity, love, and joy that I felt during the ceremony. So, I apologize. This summary cannot possibly portray all of that, but I'll try.

Hanging out with the crowd before and during the Qur'an reading.

We were welcome to listen to the readings, but we were not to hold a copy/look at the scriptures. The reading was in Arabic, so we didn't actually understand anything.

Alia and her father reading from the selected passages.

The beautiful bride: Alia

For the Qur'an reading, a group of orphans came to the house and were included as part of the ceremony. Then they were given food and gifts. It is apparently very common to invite an orphanage to your wedding festivities and join your family celebrations. I got to hand out the gifts.

After the reading, there was a large meal. Here are some of the appetizers. Behind the food (on the left) is Alia's mother. The other two women are some of her closest friends. They used to work together and were quite a team! See the one in the middle? She saw me taking a picture, so she stuck her tongue out at me.

They told us not to eat the peppers . . . we did anyway.

 The peppers were spicy. And yummy.

After the feast, there was some resting. Amy and I went into Alia's childhood bedroom with a bunch of her friends and relatives. They were very nice. During the course of the conversation, Amy and I learned that modern Javanese weddings have an element of open mic to them. There would be a band and anyone interested would be able to sing a song to the bride and groom. Well, Amy and I are not ones to let an opportunity like that pass us by! We spent the rest of the break time trying to figure out what song we could do the next day. We ended up deciding that nothing beats some good ol' Shania Twain at a wedding: "From This Moment" it would be.

After the break it was time for the bridal shower. This ceremony was entirely in Bahasa, so again I did not understand anything that was said, but I had read about it online before going, so I had a gist of what was happening.

Alia came out wearing a different outfit and now had an absolutely gorgeous shawl and headband made of flowers woven together with their stems. It was amazing. Words were spoken, and Alia knelt down in front of her parents. One at a time, each parent whispered blessings, prayers, hopes, and wishes for Alia in her new life as a wife. It commemorated needing the advice and love of your parent when you were a child.

Then they went to another area where there was a large pot with (I believe) water and flowers. Her parents and a few other elderly relatives took turns showering Alia. Using a deep ladle, they would pour water on her head and shoulders. Then she would cup her hands, they would pour water in, and she would splash her face. Then each washed her feet. This was symbolic of when she was a child and they would bathe her, take care of her. She was then wrapped in a towel, and her parents carried her back into the other room.

As a mother of young children who currently still does all or most of these actions for her children, I could not help but feel rather emotional thinking of when I won't anymore and my children will be all grown up. I definitely teared up a few times. I was also touched by how everyone wanted us to be included. The friends and family in the crowd always made sure we had seats near the front and that we could see what was going on, and those with English would translate here and there. Amy and I felt so loved by this new family we were merging with by having their Alia marry our Amil Peter.

Alia went to change into dry clothes and then joined us back in the room. Her parents were then given a plate of food and a cup of drink and proceeded to hand feed Alia the food and drink, each taking turns. Again symbolizing how they used to, when she was very young, feed her, and then even when she was older provide for her food and drink. This was representative that it would be the last time, because the next day she would be married and (historically) her husband would then be responsible for providing her food and drink.

In the final part of the ceremony, Alia's parents cut a piece of Alia's hair. It was then carried outside and buried in the ground. This symbolized that Alia was leaving all of her bad habits at her parents' house, so they would not follow her into her marriage. I thought it was a beautiful idea, starting your new life with only your best attributes.

And that was the bridal shower.

Alia had an Uber for us to return to the apartment. Alia and her entourage were going to the hotel to spend the night before the wedding. Peter and Daniel were also going to spend the night at the hotel; Amy and I opted not to, because we were going to try and find church in the morning. The complication in this is that Pete and Dan had the keys to the apartment, and Amy and I did not have cell phone service. For some reason, I could text Alia's phone but not the American phones, and the SIM card was supposed to give me data, but it didn't work until my last two days in Indonesia. It just randomly started working right before Bali. But back to the story. So, Amy and I needed to meet up with Pete and Dan to get the key from them. 

Pete and Dan had gone shopping and then caught the new Spider-Man film at the largest mall I've ever seen in my life. With no way to communicate with them, Amy and I sat out in front of the movie theater entrance and just hoped there were no other exits. By then, I was done. I was so done. Jet lag had kicked in fully, and even though it was only 8:00pm or so local time, my body thought I had been up all night already, and I was exhausted. And worried that I would never find my brothers and that we would never get home again. All sorts of dismal possibilities were filling my mind as I tried desperately to not fall asleep on that bench. At some point, I bought some nachos from the movie theater concession. They were incredibly disappointing. Not like Mexican or American nachos at all. We were lucky, and we found our brothers. And then I saw a doughnut store. And I just wanted some. I needed some. But then they didn't have any glazed, and it was night, so of course they were stale. 

The disappointment and stress and exhaustion all combined to give us grumpy Mimi's "angry doughnut face." My siblings found it hilarious. The baby is sooo funny.

TIRPTLC

TIRPTLC

Amy and I decided to try and go to church in the morning before the wedding. As I mentioned, I did not have data and our access to wifi was unreliable. I had the address to the church building, and I had a screen shot of the map near the church. With that information, we hailed a cab and set off. It was touch and go for a while, but we found it! There was an English branch that met at 8:00am, so we were even able to understand the service.

At church, we met other members attending. Two were American families who lived in Indonesia for work. When they learned of our situation, they graciously gave us use of their driver. He dropped them off at their hotel, then took us to our apartment to get what we needed, and then he drove us to the hotel where Alia, Peter, and company were getting ready for the wedding. I was very grateful for their kindness.

TIRPTLC

At the hotel, the four Boling siblings ate one last meal with an unmarried Peter. Again, the menu did not disappoint!

"The natural from the trees"

Dan, enjoying his Indonesian food

(He does not suffer from the very serious conditions of "dessert face" or "angry doughnut face.")

Then it was time for Dan and Pete to go back to their room to get spiffied up, and Amy and I were off to Alia's room for beautification. Among other things, this involved a lot of hair teasing, some beautiful flowers, more makeup than I've ever worn in my life, and having a very nice man run to the mall for Amy and me. Apparently none of the shoes we brought were fancy enough, hehe. Whoops! (Crazy since I brought SO many pairs of shoes. But I didn't have any dress shoes that were open toe or not a flat. I'm not very fancy.)

With the hairdresser

With the makeup artist

It was interesting watching Alia get ready. A lot of the accessories and ornaments were actually rented rather than purchased. So the people who rent them brought large tubs full of options for Alia to try on that morning until she had found the combination that she liked. I thought that made a lot more sense than having to buy something you would never get to use again.

When I texted pictures to Jeff, my children did not recognize us.

These are the wedding boxes that Peter purchased as a customary wedding gift/offering. He also purchased four goats that I believe were donated to a village on a different island. Also part of the bride price was a small bar of gold. For the gorgeous wedding boxes below, apparently Alia told Peter some of the things she wanted, and some of the things are surprises to Alia from Peter. The actual decoration is done by a service, and the boxes are rented.

Amy and I got to be alone with Alia and her mother and father right before leaving to go to the wedding. Again, I was amazed and honored at their generosity in allowing us to be with them during such intimate moments. I truly felt like family.

Danny, Amy, and I then had the task to keep Peter away from Alia before the wedding. That was harder than it might seem. We were going down in the elevator to the lobby when the elevator stopped at a lower floor. The doors opened to reveal . . . Alia! We all shrieked, and Alia tried to hide. It was fun.

In the hotel lobby

In the car on the way to the wedding

 We had an escort from the hotel to the mosque.

My parents were unable to come to the wedding, thus Daniel filled in for our father. Amy and I were both given the uniform for mother or sister and were told to choose who would fill which role. We decided that Amy should stand in for our mother. Therefore in this picture, Dan and Amy are escorting Peter into the mosque as his "parents."

When given the choice, I eagerly chose to carry the largest box. As the minutes ticked by, I realized I had made a grave mistake. My thoughts in this picture: "Hold. Strong. Hold. Strong. DO NOT DROP THE BOX!"

I'll admit it. I was quite emotional during the wedding ceremony. It all got to me. Everything they were giving up and gaining in their love for each other. All marriages involve sacrifice. And it's beautiful.

Happy newlyweds

My batik skirt had some issues during the wedding ceremony. Part of it kept slipping off. At one point, various women had their hands up my skirt trying to fix it. We were on the women's side of the mosque, facing the men's side of the mosque, in perfect view. I felt awkward. I had leggings on, so I was completely modest, but it was . . . what it was. Here we are trying to get it fixed again before the wedding reception.

After the wedding ceremony, Pete and Alia changed clothes. They went from white to gold. And just for fun, I switched from the "sister" blouse to the "mother" blouse. Here we are waiting in a back room at the mosque for the reception to begin.

Here I am entering the reception with Alia's mom. There was a cool procession with a man in the front kind of dancing. You'll see it in the video.

Amy and my moment to sing our hearts out! It was a little more rough than we would have hoped, but considering we had fewer than twenty-four hours, never had a chance to practice with the musicians or try out the sound system, I thought we did pretty darn good.

Alia organized a flash dance mob for the wedding reception as a surprise for Peter. Her friends choreographed a dance to Rachel Platten's "Stand By You." You can't really see me, but I'm behind and to the right of Amy.

Here is the highlights video from their wedding.

About three hours after we got back to the apartment from the wedding, it was time to get to the airport to fly to Bali! Amy chose to wash her face and go to bed. I took a shower to wash my hair but kept my eyes out of the water, because I had a feeling it would be complicated getting all of that eye makeup off, and since my kids didn't recognize me with them, I thought it would be fun to show up in Ohio with the fake eyelashes. (I couldn't last longer than two days though.)

The trip to Bali ended up being a bit of an ordeal. We ended up spending about seven or so hours extra in the airport. Our driver was lost. We stood in so many wrong lines. We had to take a bus. We walked far. We went to so many wrong terminals. We were given incorrect directions by so many people. My luggage was way too big and heavy. My sister got detained because of nonexistent spray. There were three or four security check points. Our two-hour window quickly flew by, and the flight was missed. There is no one I'd rather deal with that with than my sister Amy. Although, she added to the chaos by "losing" her passport and boarding pass. That was one of the scariest moments I've had as the crowd carried me away from her and she was frantically searching all of her pockets. We had to pay for new tickets to Bali, but luckily Jakarta to Bali is only seventy dollars or so.

When we arrived at the airport, we stopped to take a picture by the sign. When we finished, a tour bus stopped, and so many people poured out. And every single one wanted a picture with us. There was a lot of touching and handling and being positioned. A little violating. Ha. But flattering at the same time. I felt like part of the tourist attractions. Travel to Bali and get to see white tourists!!

We stayed at the Holiday Inn Express, because we're cheap, I mean, frugal like that. Conveniently, the Holiday Inn Express is right next to the Holiday Inn Resort, and the Resort had beach access.

We're in the Holiday Inn pool on the roof, and you can see a little of the resort behind us.

Sunset in Bali

I really couldn't love my fanny pack more than I do. I LOVE IT.
It is probably the most useful thing I own—and I'm including my iPhone in that.

The resort that we didn't stay at was lovely.

"Um, I'm in Bali!!"

"I've been staring at the edge of the water long as I can remember never really knowing why . . . " You had better believe that Amy and I sung Moana on the top of our lungs. I can only imagine what the boat driver was thinking. 

We paid this guy to just let us ride his boat around for an hour.
During our trip, he rode out to let us watch the surfers who were surfing the crests really far out from the shore. Then three of them (Australian, I think?) swam over and asked for a ride back into shore. I had wondered how the surfers got so far out. 

A reminder of how dangerous this gorgeous island can be. There were a lot of signs like this directing you to safe havens in the case of a hurricane.

And just like that, our time in Bali was over. Then we flew from Bali to Jakarta. Then from Jakarta to Tokyo. 

This time I was braver and tried the floor toilets. 

Kind of nice to not sit on something you know lots of bums have sat on.

Then we flew from Jakarta to Texas. Then Texas to Nebraska.

Amy got to reunite with these beautiful people. 

Then I flew to Minnesota and then finally back to Ohio with my babies.

It was truly a magical vacation being with my siblings and no kids or spouses. It's been a long time since we've been together like that. And it was amazing. I'm so grateful to my in-laws, my parents, my husband, and my siblings' spouses and ex-spouse who took care of the sixteen children we have between us, so that we could go on this trip together.

What a trip!

*For those friends who might be confused, my brother Peter and his ex-wife Mindee got a divorce . . . maybe five years ago? Peter and Mindee continue to teach me what divorce can be; they are amazing at co-parenting and resolving issues. Also, Peter left the LDS Church . . . maybe six or seven years ago? Peter lived in Indonesia for a year where he met and fell in love with Alia. He also officially converted to Islam; his Muslim name is Amil Peter.

**Some of these photos are mine; some are Amy's, Peter's, Alia's, Dan's, and the photographers'. There was a lot of photo sharing going on, and I can't really credit everyone. And there were like six photographers and three videographers at the wedding, so I don't even know what came from whom.

My sister Amy has also blogged about our trip. It's interesting to see what details she decided to include compared to those which I chose. She seems to remember more of my embarrassing moments than I did . . . 

• Away We Go: Indonesia, part 1
• Exploring Jakarta: Indonesia, part 2