"Will you to be my friend? Then I'm Muslim?"

So reads a text message from one of the girls I met at Parangtritis. She is worried that I’ll be scared off by knowing she’s a Muslim.

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The lack of Americans here in Yogyakarta is a little disappointing. Not that I came to hang out with my fellow countrymen, but seeing Europe so well represented among the foreigners here brings out my national pride a bit. I’ve got nothing against Europeans per se, but sometimes they’re a bit too, well, European for me. What does that mean, you ask? It means walking around tropical Yogyakarta in galoshes with your pant legs tucked into them. Yes. It means sporting baby mullets like they never went out of style. It means trekking around the crowded city streets dressed as if you’re on safari. It means dropping imperial references in your long-distance phone conversations (“Look, it’s not a bloody empire – it’s a shop.”). It means asking me where else I’ve been in “Yava”. The travelers I’ve met have all been really nice, but I’d be overjoyed to see few more American faces, for comfort if nothing else.

So where are all my compatriots? Most probably think 1) Indonesia = Bali, or 2) Indonesia = terrorist den. As for the first assumption, I don’t really blame them. The selection of guide books on Indonesia is mediocre at best. Lonely Planet has the most current one, and most of the others seem to skim over or completely omit the world’s fourth most populous nation from their pages. Take Lonely Planet's “Southeast Asia on a Shoestring”, for example. Surely this book should have some useful information about Indonesia, seeing as how it geographically dominates Southeast Asia and is perfect for those on a tight budget. I look in the table of contents: Malaysia, Thailand, Cambodia, Laos, Vietnam, the Philippines, Bali. Wait. Are you serious? Bali? That’s the best they could do - the most expensive and tourist-ridden Island of the whole archipelago? I wanted to slap the nearest Barnes & Noble employee and demand satisfaction.

As for the second assumption, again I don’t really blame people because of the scant sensationalist media coverage available to them. The grotesque caricatures of Indonesia crafted by conflict-hungry journalists who perpetually long to be on the “front lines” (and make-believe they are anyway if their locale doesn’t suffice) could hardly be further from the reality of daily life here. And if the stilted journalistic reports coming from Indonesia don’t convince tourists to stay away, the US government’s travel warning finishes the job.

As to the question of what it is like living in a “Muslim country”, I don’t really even know how to begin to answer that. First ask yourself what it’s like living in a “Christian country”, because neither the United States nor Indonesia is a theocracy. Things are completely different here, from the food to the climate to the way you shake hands. Islam is tightly woven into the social fabric of life here, and for normal people it’s not the sort of obsession it can be for some in the US with conflicted self-identities who feel alienated by the dominant culture.

Five times a day, Mosque speakers blare Azhan - the Islamic call to prayer. Some Mosques have good singers, and others… not so good. I sometimes try to imagine what peoples’ reaction would be if they heard Azhan in the States. For many, the melodic Arabic voice would evoke fear, shock and indignation. Neighborhood councils would brood. Members of Congress would be called. All hell would break loose, and the Muslim community would have its usual disunified and schizophrenic reaction. Here, Azhan is at most a friendly reminder to pray, and at minimum innocuous background noise. Think church bells.

Jilbab is the term for the Indonesian-style Islamic head covering. Many girls wear them, many girls don’t. Jilbabs are an integral part of the visual landscape. They don’t send off the “I’m too Muslim to talk to you” vibe that one might feel in the States, where donning a head scarf has more confrontational connotations among the general public and is often interpreted as a political statement. Jilbabs are many things to many women – for some they are more fashion accessories than anything else. For others they reflect a deeply personal commitment to a spiritual ideal. For many they are worn just out of habit, and some women wear them only when conducting official business, attending formal events, or praying. For most they are probably a shifting combination of several of these things. I have only once seen anybody wearing a veil, and that was at McDonalds (which in Indonesia is, of course, 100% halal). Interestingly, many girls here will wear both jilbab and the most hip-hugging of jeans at the same time. This can create moments of intense confusion when scanning from the ground up.

As-salaam-alaikum is the standard greeting here. For example, if you were to venture into a shop and wanted to get the attention of the clerk napping in the back (something you need to do here pretty often), you could call out “As-salaam-alaikuuuumm”, intoning your voice on the last two syllables. It is also common practice to use this greeting when answering the phone or welcoming somebody in general. It doesn’t have the same pious, solidarity-affirming enthusiasm that’s present when it’s used in the US – here it’s just like saying “hello”. Ya Allah (emphasis on last syllable of Allah) means “oh my God”. I think it rolls off the tongue better than its English counterpart. Other common Muslim expressions like insha’Allah and masha’Allah are also used, but it seems Ya Allah is used more universally than the other two.

As in other Muslim-majority countries, passing and receiving things with your left hand is a no-no. This is due to the Islamic injunction to use that hand for what is dirty (i.e. wiping your arse).

Many people here are very pious compared to the average American. There is no concealment of religion in public like we have in the States. There’s almost always either Azhan, parts of the Quran, or monotonous sermons in Indonesian being delivered from the loudspeakers of Mosques. Jilbabs can be seen everywhere. At bookstores, the “Islamic” sections are among the biggest, and many TV soap operas feature feuding teenagers dressed in Muslim garb. Islam is quite at home in Java, and it exists now much the way it did when it first came here – peacefully. I get no sense of the coercion, sexism, or intolerance so many people fear. But intolerance is not the Javanese way - Javanese would rather turn a blind eye to something than rant and rave and decapitate people. [There is one notable exception to this rule - the rare but deadly bout of amok-amok, during which utter chaos ensues and anyone's head is fair game, especially Chinese Indonesians. Recent cases include 1965 and 1998.]

Now combine all this with a thriving commercial culture that lines every street with food stalls, an obsession with American fashion that clothes teenagers in tight jeans, imitation chucks, and intricately patterned shirts, a robust consumerism that makes people buy cell phones that cost more than their motorbikes, and an intense desire for upward mobility that drives many a kampung girl to date decrepit old bule-bule, and viola! you have the wonder that is Indonesian popular culture.

There are pockets of extremism in Java and other islands of Indonesia, for sure. The real danger in all this is not so much the strength of these extremist ideologies and organizations but more the weakness and ineptitude of the Indonesian government – which has proven in many instances unwilling to uphold its own laws and dispose of vigilante groups like the FPI, who frequently vandalize bars and other Western-oriented businesses. (In general, the government is hardly visible here. Police are hardly seen outside their stations, and when they’re out they’re usually just directing traffic.) The “Islamic” nature of such extremist groups earns them a blind eye from many local politicians who can’t stand the thought of being seen as “anti-Islamic”. Indonesia cannot let these sores fester for very much longer without suffering the consequences – be they the loss of lives, the loss of foreign investment, or the loss of tourism revenue. Judging from the lack of Americans here in Yogya, I’m guessing the latter is already happening.