Yogya

The trip to Yogyakarta was a long day to say the least. What made it even longer was the tour agent in Probolingo. We caught a minibus down the volcano and into the nearby city of Probolingo. We were ushered to a bus terminal to supposedly catch a large, air-conditioned bus to Yogya. We (Beth, Kylie and Andrew (the Aussies we climbed Bromo with) and two Dutch guys) were pretty used to switching buses and ferries since we had come a long way from Lombok, but we didn't expect to encounter Mr. Unfriendly tour agent from "International Tours". Probolingo has a reputation for rip-off artist tour agents, and knowing this was to our advantage. When we arrived at 10:30am, we were told that our bus just left, but that, please be patient, the next bus leaves at 12:30pm!!! Our reaction was not good. But there was a catch, and I quote "or you can take a new, aircon bus that includes a meal and leaves at 12:35pm, up to you". We later learned that the oft used expression "up to you" was kind of the equivalent to "up yours" or "you'll pay buddy!". We could take the better bus if we each coughed up 2500rp. Now that's only a dollar US, and he knew that we would probably take the deal given that we all looked dead tired and a little stressed at the prospects of a two hour wait, but we didn't give in, and boy did he get pissed off. It was pretty funny to see this skinny, five foot nothing, 20 something year old kid rant and rave. As soon as he started his tirade I knew we'd called his bluff and he was bullshitting us. Our bus left at 12:30. We didn't see any other buses, but we did get a free meal….

Arriving in Yogya just extended our bad day, as we had to search for a place to stay at 10:00pm, but we did all right. After a good sleep, we set off in the morning and found our new home base called the Hotel Indraprasta.

A ride in a bemo, or a bus for that matter, can be quite the experience in Indonesia. They're used by both the public bus system and the private companies (like Parama in Bali). If you chartered your own bemo somewhere, you would usually feel like you paid too much, so it was always good to ask people who had already done it - then offer half that amount and bargain from there. Of course, any mode of transport you used in Asia, it was advised that you agree on a price before you go to avoid getting shafted or yelled at. Using the public bemos in Bali, we usually had to wait until they filled up before they got going - which can be pretty exasperating and pointless if you're going to a destination unpopular with locals - i.e. a tourist spot!! At home, a bemo could legally fit maybe 12 people, and that's stretching it. In a bemo to Prambanan, we had 22 inside and 2 hanging out the side door - though there were only 3 in the front - Beth, the driver and I. It pays to try hopping in the front of bemos and buses, because inevitably they do fill up in the Asian sense of the word and the front will prevent serious cramping! Buses weren’t much different - in Yogyakarta buses were a great way to get around and the cheapest thing going, but we had to be prepared to get in and out on the run, and to be squeezed in like the contents of your backpack.

We decided to do most things in Yogya by public transport, and we saved a bit of money. It took a little more time (although in some cases.. less!) and effort, as well as some courage, but we saved some money and got to see so much more of the people.

The first thing we did the first morning at Hotel Indraprastha, was to bargain with Jumat (one of the friendly guys running the place) to do our laundry. After 20 minutes of hilarious back and forth bargaining which featured Jumat and his little helper friend chasing each other around the courtyard because they crossed wires on how much each thing would cost and told us different amounts, they arrived at 7000rp. We did do laundry ourselves occasionally, but it was a hell of a lot easier to pay two or three dollars to have it washed, dried, ironed (everything!) and folded.

Our first day in Yogyakarta, we accomplished everything we had set out to do, as well as discover some bonuses: we found our first Indonesian McDonalds (OK, this was one of MY goals!), talked to the Traveller Information Center (TIC) (which was excellent) and got ourselves acquainted with the city as well. The bonuses were: email and learning of the batik scam before we got scammed ourselves. As well, we learned the city mantra we would never forget: from "transport, transport" in Ubud, the cry had evolved to "becak, becak" (BAY-CHAK) in Yogya. A becak is a 3-wheeled bicycle with a small carriage in the front with seating for one and a half tourists or a whole family of Indonesians. The driver is usually an older man with the most sinewy, muscular legs and a conical bamboo hat. They run a scam of their own - 1000rp for one hour seems like a good deal, but as in similar scams all over Asian cities, they proceed to take you to commission shop after commission shop, silver and batik shops in the case of Yogyakarta. We always agreed on a price (roughly 500rp/km) after we said "Hi, no silver, no batik, here's where we want to go, and here's how much we're paying". After they refused and you took a little walk, you usually heard a disgruntled "OK", and then you were off.

After Mickey Dee's, we went to the train station for some information. As we were coming down Marlioboro Street (the main shopping/market area) an older man struck up a conversation by first pointing out that my shirt and his watch were both Guess – well, I knew mine was genuine anyway. He then asked the customary “where you from?” and when we told him he said “I have a nephew at University in Q-Beck (Quebec?).” And the conversation went on… and on…. and on….. Beth and I were kind of shuffling away when he told us about the 2-day “batik art show” that ends today at 4:00pm and is moving to Jakarta. Well, that ended our interest – any sort of time related pressure to buy always felt like a scam. Perhaps we were skeptics, but when we arrived at the TIC we noticed notices in every conceivable language (except Japanese for some reason…!) warning about the “batik art show” and to watch out for people posing as teachers or professional artists.

Our next stop was to the post office, and when I asked about email, I was surprised when the clerk pointed next door. I imagined a supped up VIC-20 with its innards exposed, but was pleasantly shocked to find 4 Windows 95 terminals and knowledgeable staff. It was great! The National postal system operated these internet/email centers in 28 cities across Indonesia and allowed us to received email for free. They charged 3,000rp for a half hour and 5,000rp for an hour which included email and high speed net access so I could check how I was doing in the sumo pool back in Japan. The staff even pointed me to “mailcity.com”, a free, traveling email account accessed through a web browser (a predecessor to Hotmail, Gmail etc). If it worked, it would make corresponding with friends and family a whole lot easier. When we returned to the bungalow, our Australian friends said “hey, guess what, we met a professor who has a friend in Australia and he took us to a batik show that ended today at 4:00pm”. They didn’t buy anything, but were pretty damn close to blowing a couple of week’s worth of room and board. From then on, whenever someone came up to us saying “you looking for batik?” I replied “yeah, I’m looking for a show that ends today at 4:00pm and by the way, do you have and friends or relatives in Canada?”. They always flashed me a knowing smile and walked away. Gotcha!

On Sunday, July 13^th, we decided to check out the major sites in the heart of the City. This began with the Kraton or Sultan’s Palace. We were paired with a short, stout, elderly Indonesian lady who spoke what can only be described as a far removed dialect of English and she guided us about the grounds. It was disappointing to the point of laughter – we walked along walls lined with Sultan memorabilia such as his scout’s uniform, camera, leftovers from the kitchen etc.

Not far from the palace, was the bird market, an interesting little area with thousands of birdcages lining narrow alleyways. On our way out, we noticed the “bird feed” section was filled with huge red ants, cockroaches and larvae… it reminded us that is was time for lunch. The food stalls in Yogya around the palace were amazing, although with the amount of oil from the deep fried food, we probably could have powered a car. There were spring rolls, pancakes, potatoes and lots of different kinds of rice crackers and rice cakes.

After lunch we discovered a home country direct phone right next to the central post office. Home country direct allowed us to use calling cards by connecting us directly with Canadian operators instead of calling collect or messing around with phone cards.

We’d been looking around at tours to the 2 main attractions in the area; Borobudor, a Buddhist temple, and Prambanan, a Hindu temple, both outside the city. Thankfully, our friend at the TIC pointed out how easy it was for us to do it ourselves. The next day we set out early for the main public bus terminal. Our timing seemed amazing, as soon as we got there we were ushered into a bus and we were off – 42km to Borobudur. We arrived without incident an hour and a half later. Although I had seen many pictures of the temple, and it was highly touted in every guest book we’d read, I was truly overwhelmed when I first laid eyes on it. Compared to our guide at the Kraton the day before, our guide that day was amazing. He spit out so many facts and figures, but the two things I remembered were 1)It took an estimated 100 years to build in the 8^th or 9^th century, and 2) it took over 2,000,000 heavy (I lifted one) volcanic rocks carried 35 kilometers from nearby Mt. Merapi. The three levels of the temple signified the three levels of the Buddhist world – hell, earth and nirvana. Each level had its own unique story and images, but I was most amazed at the lower level which consisted of carvings of people that if you walked around the outside, showed flip-it book style figures performing a dance.

In the afternoon, we decided to visit Prambanan, a huge Hindu temple just northeast of the city. Again, we went by public bus and it was no problem. As the guide was telling us about the temples built for Shiva and Vishnu, I couldn’t help wondering about the spread of Hinduism from India all the way to Indonesia over 1000 years ago. As it was, we felt like India, our final destination in December, was light years away, and we had the luxury of planes, trains and buses. How had this religion spread so far, so long ago? And how had this amazing structure coexisted for so long that close to a “competing” religious structure in Borobodur. Quite the example of religions getting along with each other!