4th - 10th January 2012
I was feeling so rough that I slept the whole afternoon, Djalma took me out for dinner at a restaurant just round the corner and we tucked into some reassuringly western food, spaghetti bolognese, before heading back to bed where I promptly fell asleep again.
Feeling better the next morning we made it out into the sunshine and walked to a small empty coffee shop for breakfast, while we sat inside to avoid the heat and tucked into our food we got chatting to a middle aged guy who was from Kalimantan, the Indonesian side of Borneo. After about twenty minutes of chatting and drinking coffee and generally feeling optimistic about the day, we headed out with our new friend who walked with us and started talking about this exhibition that was ending today.
Well, if you're considering a visit to Yogyakarta (pronounced Jogjakarta or just Jogja for short) you'll almost certainly read warnings about scams involving these claims (touts for art shops claim that there is an exhibition which is ending today and that it's the last chance to buy anything before the show moves to Singapore), the thing was that this guy was so friendly and so seemingly agenda-less that we believed him. We even asked if it was the same one we'd heard about from another guy, doh! He kept on walking with us and tried to get us into this shop, sorry exhibition, but with much regret we said goodbye and continued onto the Tourist Office to get some information about the city, dance performances and to ask if there were any government affiliated art exhibitions at all in the city. Just to clarify, there aren't. Feeling a big gutted that the guy had his own reasons for talking to us aside from curiosity and general pleasantness and feeling newly rubbish now I'd been out of bed for more than an hour, we decided to head back to our hotel so I could lay down. After five minutes and a paracetamol I felt much better but we decided to take the afternoon off and rest. We read about Indonesia and planned the first couple of weeks back in the country after our stint in East Timor. After the planning and an early dinner it was back to bed for me.
Despite another ear achingly loud call to prayer from our neighbours at the Mosque, 6am prompt, we slept late and got up for a leisurely breakfast which turned out to be rather disappointing French toast and a fried egg. Still feeling rather achy and out of sorts I went back to bed with a Jilly Cooper novel I pilfered from what I thought was a book exchange but wasn't, oops. I spent the day reading and Djalma, bless his heart sorted and booked tickets and gathered information about wedding stuff for NZ/Brazil, what a pain in the arse.
We walked around town in the evening to try and find somewhere different for dinner, we ended up in a place that played live music and ordered two portions of lasagne and a caesar salad, when it eventually arrived, it was shocking, the salad was under heaps of mayonnaise which we had to scrape off, aside from a few leaves of bland lettuce there was some old chicken and a small quartered cherry tomato (just the one), the lasagne wasn't cooked the whole way through and after the salad I was a bit miffed. We took the food to the counter, complained, paid for the mayo fest and my drink and left. It really got under my skin, in England (I know, I know, I'm not in England anymore) people would be red-faced from embarrassment at serving up uncooked food, here the girl just said that it takes time because it was heated from frozen – I told her that I knew this and that it wouldn't have been so bad if had actually been cooked properly, what a cheek! After waiting for them to confer in the kitchen again we said goodbye and went back to one of the two restaurants that we ate at almost solely during our time in Java. We met up with a UK couple that Djalma had met while using the internet to book tickets (the restaurant had free wifi) and had dinner with them exchanging horror stories from India and tips about the places we were travelling to. We also exchanged films and TV Series – they got a mixed bag from our computer and we got 5 series of Dexter, awful beginning but we're hooked now. Later on in the evening Carolina (Sciani) and her husband Eduardo (Dudu) arrived from Bali and we sat and talked and made plans for the following day.
The next day, Saturday, rolled around and we scootered down to the Kraton, an understated palace of sorts, and negotiated our way through the throngs of school kids and Javanese sightseers who all seemed eager to have their pictures taken with us. Now, I felt bad at not wanting my photo to be taken, especially because Sciani, Dudu and Djalma were all happy to oblige but I was still feeling washed out and this wasn't anything new and exciting for me – I hate Hate HATE sticking out like a sore thumb where ever we go – I generally don't like the attention, the pointing and that day (and others I'll admit right now) I really didn't want to bother with fake smiles with people I didn't know for a photo they weren't likely to keep. To be clear, I feel very differently about attention when it's a genuine compliment, such as the skinny Indian boy who told me that I was white 'like a chicken' or girls who think my hair is nice, I actually quite like having my photo taken with someone who I've spoken to and like. So while the rotations of different people were happening I buggered off and left the guys to it, let me take my sulky face elsewhere dammit!
The Kraton wasn't anything special and we ended up following a lady to workshops for Batiks (BIG business in Jogja) and leather puppets crafted from cured buffalo hides and painted. The puppets were beautiful, although why they are painted is a mystery because they're used behind a screen to make a shadow and you don't see any of the detail?! There was a small room with rows of beautifully dressed and painted dolls and mythological figures, magic.
We made our way back to the performance stage, Sciani and I sat in the front row to take photos but at four hours long and with the puppets sitting still while the story was related in Bahasa we didn't stay long. Actually taking photos of the musicians drinking tea and smoking clove scented cigarettes round the back was much more interesting.
The narrator lit by the single bare bulb and talking into a microphone was a lot more captivating than the meangingless words floating out from the speakers.
Leaving the Kraton behind, we walked back through the big market/fairground just outside and had a simple lunch of noodles with chicken from a small stand.
Back on the bikes and baking in the heat we whizzed through and out of town heading towards the silver district for Sciani and Dudu to hopefully find something cool to buy and for us all to see the silver being worked. Unfortunately there wasn't anything cool to buy and we couldn't find any workshops. Bums.
A little further on we came to the royal burial grounds, which was also a wee bit disappointing, there wasn't anything to suggest any bodies, royal or otherwise, resting in the ground/walls/tombs. It was a series of small gardens and ponds some with fish in. Someone lay sleeping on the steps of something religious but I've no idea what it's used for, lots of the temples I'd seen at that point were without any clear indication of what different things were used for, and what was/not sacred. After a quick look round we got some ice lollies from a guy with a small kart and went back to our bikes.
We stopped a couple of times for silver shops on the way back but after that I'd decided that I'd had enough and I was ready for some more bed rest. We met for dinner and stayed until we got kicked out, they drank beer while I chugged down Sultan tea, a potent mix of clove leaves, fresh ginger, a special kind of bark and cinnamon (I think), excellent for clearing the head.
The next day we got up at 5ish and drove out to Borobodur,a good two hours on our scooter, the early morning air was cool and damp. We stopped for a good breakfast which was rice based (of course) and included the surprisingly good Gudeg (young tender jackfruit in a curry like sauce) at a local restaurant and then walked over the road to the Buddhist temple.
Unfortunately for me, it was Sunday and the place was heaving with school kids, I couldn't take it, the constant pestering for photos, the giggling and shouting, the general school outingness. I was still feeling a bit rubbish but considerable better than the previous few days, but I was still not up for endless photos. A tall transvetite cotteshly asked Djalma for a photo and draped herself over his shoulder, I couldn't help thinking, meanly, that the ladyboys in Thailand did it so much better (they actually put the women to shame and that's saying something) and they didn't wear beige socks with open toed spiky heels.
Borobodur is like a huge square wedding cake decorated with stone Buddhas, we got off the stone staircase on the way up and walked round the first layer to avoid the crowds. After the groups of kids trickled off we continued up to the top. Where there were plenty more kids.
The top was beautiful, covered in stone onion shaped domes with views out over green fields and coconut palm covered hills.
We took pictures taking care to keep moving so we wouldn't be asked for photos, we got collared on a few occasions but Djalma very kindly stepped in when it got a little out of hand and the person behind camera kept changing to allow everyone a photo with us, once people ask it's very difficult to say no. Well usually it is. I got stopped and interviewed by two girls who I really didn't want to stop and talk to but felt obliged to as an English teacher.
We found a corner with almost no people and Djalma took a picture of me, one that I actually wanted taken, he even – shock horror – made me laugh. When people started gathering round and pointing camera phones at me and Djalma I felt it was time to leave, I wanted to disappear but not before flipping them all the birdie, not very nice behaviour as a guest in a different country!
We hotfooted it down the steps and I pulled my sarong over my bloody orange head in an attempt to throw them off our scent. A small group of teenage boys followed us trying to pluck up the courage to ask for a photo but after the zoo at the top we apologised and said... no. No more photos, sorry. It was, it was... delicious but we also felt mean because he seemed quite shy, oh well, next time buddy you have to get in there before half the pupils from half the schools on the island do!
We left after that and drove back to the Kraton to watch a dance rehearsal.
It was a very slow dance with lots of foot moves, very beautiful but so slow that I fell asleep after a few minutes – the early morning start didn't help either.
The make-up and costumes were stunning both for the men and women and because the moves were so slow it was nice and easy to take photos.
After an afternoon nap we met Sciani and Dudu for dinner and said our goodbyes before heading off to bed.
Monday rolled round and we had a lie in, it was delicious. We watched He-Man and then went out for lunch. We did almost nothing the whole day, and after eating we got straight back into bed and read and talked and generally relaxed. I wrote in my diary and we sorted out a place to sleep in Kuta, Bali for the following night.
On Tuesday we checked out at midday and then spent the whole afternoon in the “Spanish” restaurant that we ate at most days, using the free wifi and eating curries. We left for our evening flight around 6pm getting the same bus back to the airport, sitting down with no headache and no country music blaring out, it was actually a pleasant ride as far as bus rides go. Our flight was direct to Denpasar, five minutes by car from the centre of Kuta but we walked there to avoid the hugely overpriced taxis and it took well over an hour. We arrived after midnight and were grateful for our unusual forward planning because two girls showed up looking for a room but were told that it was full. Our room was huge and clean, it was also home to plenty of hungry mozzies which, without a mosquito net to protect us, fed well that night. We watched the first episode of Dexter which didn't do American's any favours at all and fell promptly asleep.
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