A Day of Train Travel. Yogya-Surabaya-Banyuwangi

Happy 2013, everyone! Can you believe how fast January has gone by?! Sorry for the delayed update. I've been working full-time and I've just gotten over a nasty 2-week cold!  Seems like everyone is getting sick these days. Weather changes maybe? 

Anyway, I left all my readers fatigued in Yogyakarta after a long, dreadful day cooped up in a van. It's about time we've left Yogya for a new city and a new adventure. So let's continue eastward! 

I woke up the next day feeling weak.  My upset stomach was still in full swing.  But I got up, had a small breakfast, and headed to Tugu Train Station with my mom to buy our train tickets to Surabaya.  To my relief I was right; the next train to Surabaya was at 2 PM, about a 5-hour journey.  And what time was the train to depart for Banyuwangi?  Nine-thirty in the evening.  Yes!  You have no idea how thrilled I was.  We were going to make it after all, and on schedule too.  

So we bought our tickets to Surabaya and onward tickets to Banyuwangi.  The entire cost for both train tickets for all four of us was Rp. 1.960.000, or about $217 USD.  In other words, $54 USD per person for an 11-hour train trip.  MUCH less expensive than a one-way plane ticket to Bali, which at the time I think was $500+ USD per person.  Interestingly, the train ticket from Surabaya to Banyuwangi cost less than the train ticket from Yogyakarta to Surabaya, despite the fact that the ride from Surabaya to Banyuwangi is three hours longer.  Well ... you'll know why that is later.  Once we had the tickets, the only discrepancy that I noticed was that we were not all seated together.  In fact, we were separated by an entire car.  Oh well.  One minor nuisance.

My mom and I rode one of these (a becak) to the Tugu Train Station

I don't think we did all too much on our last day in Yogyakarta.  My family packed up their things while I rested in bed with pain that wasn't abating any time soon.  I couldn't tell you how many Tums I had taken.  The pain persisted.  I needed something stronger.

By 1 PM, we checked out of Mawar Asri Hotel and hailed a cab to drive us the 10 minutes to the train station. (I know, a 10-minute ride on a cab -- lame, but we had too much luggage.)

Riding down Jalan Malioboro, the main drag in Yogyakarta

We reached the station, unloaded our bags, got past security, and waited in our terminal, which was a bit confusing at first.  The train station isn't all that big, but the platform signs showing which trains were heading in which direction were a little misleading.  We had to ask a number of people to make sure we were waiting in the right area.  This was very annoying as all I wanted to do was sit down and take a nap so I could ignore my nasty stomach ache.  

As we waited, my mom bought some snacks for us to enjoy on the train and chatted up a storm with two women who were waiting to board a train going the opposite direction, back to Jakarta.  I just couldn't wait to leave already ... it was close to 2 PM but the train was running late and we didn't actually board the Argowilis #6 train till 2:30 PM.  

We sat in the air-conditioned Executive Class on seats that were surprisingly comfortable and spacious.  There was plenty of leg room, and the chairs not only reclined but spun 180 degrees, that way two people who were seated together could turn and face the two people seated either in front or behind them.  If only my mom and youngest sister were with my middle sister and me.  But otherwise, this was a very nice train ride, probably second best to the long train journey we took from Bangkok to Butterworth, Malaysia.  

Argowilis #6 Train to Surabaya

Sahara enjoying our Executive Class seats

A few people came on the train to sell some snacks and other goods, all of which I declined because I simply wasn't hungry.  But then the people around us dined on soups and noodles, and even chicken pot pie!  Eventually, Sahara and I walked over to the dining car, where she picked the $5 USD chicken pot pie, which unfortunately in my opinion was very creamy and a tad too salty.  Then again ... I was sick and we all know our taste buds are messed up when we're sick.  

After a quick nap and one bathroom visit later, we arrived at the Surabaya-Gubeng Train Station at 6:25 PM.  Plans to visit the city center were obviously shot, so we just hung out at the station, where we grabbed dinner at a chicken place.  We had three hours to kill before boarding our last train.  But man, did I have to use the facilities!  At first we were at a convenience market looking for meds to aid my stomach when I really needed to find a restroom.  I must have gone up to go five times in one hour.  And of course, there was a 'bathroom attendant' who collected Rp. 2000 (about 20 US cents) for every person that needed to use it.  C'mon seriously dude, I have no time to look for money to give you when I have serious business to take care of.  Needless to say, it was pretty embarrassing.  

The chicken was nothing to write home about.  It was actually hard and dry, but there really was nothing else around that was open or ... better.  There were a few people, mostly men than women, hanging around presumably waiting for the next train, many of whom just stared at us.  This was something we just had to ignore and get used to.  There were also a few stray cats around, one of which came to sit below our table and stare at me.  Gigi thought it was cute.  I thought It was a bit creepy.  

At last, our train arrived.  It would be the fourth and last train of our trip.  The Mutiara Timur Malam #87 left at 9:30 on the dot, and at 4:30 AM we would be in Java's easternmost city, Banyuwangi.  Though we were all able to sit together, this train turned out to be the worst train of all trains in the history of trains, and now we know why it cost so much less than the train to Surabaya.  Despite the Executive Class, it felt nothing like the Surabaya's Executive Class.  This train was old, dark, dingy, and freezing cold.  The seat cushions were faded and torn, and the seats themselves were stiff and narrow.  The most disgusting part of all was that the train car we were in was infested with cockroaches.  They seemed to be crawling everywhere.  I'm not kidding!  And there was this one middle-aged man who put his head against the wall while he slept, and each time he did that cockroaches would swarm around his head.  He would then wake up and aggressively scratch his head with both hands.  Oh my God.  Disgusting.  And slightly comical at the same time.  Imagine if you were sleeping with your mouth open ...

As if things couldn't get any worse, this was also the most horrible train journey for me because I was in excruciating pain the entire ride.  It felt as though I was being stabbed a hundred times in the abdomen, and with each stab the knife would turn and twist my stomach into knots.  It was unbearable.  I sat there shedding quiet tears -- the only way I could somewhat withstand the pain was for me to bend over with my chest in my lap.  I sat like this for hours until I needed to get up and use the bathroom.  And this was the only train where I had to visit the facilities more than ... well, I couldn't tell you how many times I had to get up and go.  I lost count after the fifth visit.  The silver lining to this dreadful experience?  The bathroom was the cleanest of all four trains.  Lucky me.  Still, it was a squat toilet where you essentially drop everything into a black hole.  You can see the ground, the train tracks, look out the open window, and hear the wheels of the train grinding against the tracks loud and clear.  It was anything but peaceful.  

At 4:30 AM, my seemingly endless cycle of sit, get up, and go, came to an end when the train finally came to a halt.  We were so relieved to get off the nasty ride and stretch our limbs.  I however, proceeded to the nearest bench and sat with my chest in my lap as I was still in agonizing pain.  It was pitch black outside.  The only people at the station were the people that came off our train, the majority of them on their way to Denpasar, Bali's capital.  They all seemed in a hurry to get away from this place.  We were the last people from our train to leave the platform.  We slowly headed out to the front of the station where many men looking for passengers called out, 'Denpasar!  Denpasar!'  We, however, were not among the people hopping on the bus to Denpasar.  Instead, we were heading to Gilimanuk, Bali via the ferry from Ketapang Terminal, maybe only a 10 or 15-minute walk from the train station.  But I was in no mood or condition to walk.  We hopped a becak (in this case, two) and rode the 3 minutes to the ferry terminal whose 24/7 fouty-five-minute ferry only cost Rp. 6.000 (or 65 US cents) per person to ride.  Good-bye Banyuwangi.  Good-bye Java.  Here we come Bali!

Stay tuned for our adventures in Bali.  

Ocean views on the ferry to Gilimanuk, Bali

Another beautiful sunrise from Ketapang to Gilimanuk, Bali

A sickly me watching the sunrise on the ferry ride to Gilimanuk, Bali

Day 2: Part II - Borobudur & The Worst Day Ever!

Happy 12/12/12, everyone!  As my dad pointed out, today is the last triple digit date until the next century, and some of us may never see another triple digit date.  The next one will be on 01/01/01 in the year 2101.  Mind-boggling to say the least!

Ready for part II of the worst day of our trip ever??

It was about 1030 AM by the time we got back in the van.  And I knew we had a 3-hour drive ahead of us to reach Dieng.  What I did not anticipate, however, was the traffic, and I'm not talking about ordinary traffic.  There was no accident or road construction or road blockage of any kind.  No deer or duck crossing either.  This was by far the slowest bumper-to-bumper, 5 MPH, stop-go-stop-go traffic that my family and I had ever had the misfortune to be stuck in.  Here we were sitting on an unevenly narrow paved road where we could see an endless line of cars in front of us and hear a chorus of honking horns played by angry drivers.  It was the worst!   I completely underestimated the number of people that would be on the road during the post-Ramadan festivities.  School was still out, many people were still on vacation.  Why didn't I take this into account?  It was so bad, my family quickly grew bored, sleepy, and disgusted with the situation.   And keep in mind I had not been feeling well.  Luckily my upset stomach wasn't much of an issue at Borobudur, but the constant braking, the strong smell of exhaust, and the uncertainty behind whether or not we'll ever reach our destination made me sick.  I tried to keep up a conversation with our tour guide.  I couldn't help but sense that he must have felt some kind of embarrassment towards us because of what was happening, but it wasn't his fault.  I felt so bad for our driver too, who was a quiet man in his late 50s.  He must have been super frustrated.  I know I would have been.  This was not what I had in mind for a full-day tour.

But frustration wasn't going to get us anywhere.

We just sat there in silence.  I looked back every once in awhile to find my sisters fast asleep and my mom shifting in her seat having had trouble getting comfortable.  I couldn't blame them.  I too was antsy and getting all the more queasy as the hours passed.  There were many occasions where I thought I might have thrown up, or worse, gone #2 on the car seat.  My stomach hurt, and it would be days before I felt any better.

We passed through many small towns, saw a lot of the countryside, and watched many kids riding their bikes and mopeds without a care in the world, unaware of the trouble on the road and the fatigue within the drivers and their passengers. 

By 1 PM, we decided it was time to eat.  I don't remember what city we were in, but we stopped at a Chinese restaurant whose ambiance lacked personality.  Not the ideal choice, but we needed to stretch our legs and refuel.  We invited our tour guide and driver to join us for lunch, but because it was against company policy, they politely declined.  The menu ran the gamut of the usual Chinese fare from fried rice to noodles and soups to broccoli beef and orange chicken.  Seated at a round table, nothing on the menu stood out to me.  I ended up ordering fried rice with egg, but only managed to eat half of it.  They gave us a lot of food.

Within half an hour we were back in the van.  Our tour guide was surprised we were done with lunch so soon.  Well ... we really didn't want to waste any more time.  We just wanted to get to Dieng already.  But of course, today just wasn't our day.  The road traffic was still ever so slow.

But around 2 PM, we managed to see part of what Dieng had to offer in terms of its surroundings.

We were just 1 km away from reaching the top of Dieng when we hit traffic at its worst as we attempted to ascend the steep hill to the top.  We had come to a complete stand-still.  Apparently everyone wanted to get to the top.  We must have stayed in one spot for a full 15 minutes before my family and I mutually decided we had had enough.  We were sick to our stomachs, beyond exhausted, and utterly disappointed in what had become the worst day of our entire trip thus far.  I was also very concerned with the fact that we hadn't even purchased our train tickets for tomorrow's departure to Surabaya.

The plan for tomorrow was to check out early and catch the 7:15 AM train to the city of Surabaya in East Java.  The train ride would last 5 hours, where we'd arrive in Surabaya in time for lunch and spend a whole day exploring the city, strolling the large shopping mall known as Tunjungan Plaza and visiting House of Sampoerna, the historical hand-rolling cigarette factory museum and art gallery whose cafe I read was simply divine.  I also wanted to ride Al Akbar Mosque's elevator to the top for marvelous city views.  We'd have the time to do all this because our connecting train ride to Java's easternmost city of Banyuwangi wasn't till 9:30 PM.

The most important question then was what time does the train station close?  I didn't know, but the tour guide said 8 PM.  At this rate if we continued up the hill and spent the time in Dieng, we wouldn't make it back to Yogyakarta in time to get our train tickets.  And we needed those tickets to continue our journey eastward.  It was unanimous -- we told our guide and driver to turn around now and head back.  I think they were shocked with our decision to not press forward after all this time spent on the road to get here.  We were less than a mile away!  But the traffic was unbearable, and the thought of losing our opportunity to get a hold of those train tickets was disturbing.  We needed to get back to Yogyakarta.  But the ride back wasn't easy.  We faced even more traffic.  It was incredible.  And I felt so ashamed for having brought my family into this mess.  In hindsight, I should have booked a half-day tour to Borobudur, or instead of Dieng I should have signed up for a visit to the Hindu temple of Prambanan.  Sure, we would have hit traffic, but Prambanan would have been so much closer, lying only 30 minutes east of Yogyakarta.  What a dummy I was!  I just wanted to do something different, get off the beaten path, see another side to the region.  Boy, was this a huge mistake.  Below are images of what we could have seen at Dieng.  What a shame! 







Are these photos breath-taking or what?  What a shame, what a shame!  

I think the next time if I'm ever back in Yogyakarta and want to see Dieng, I'd stay in one of the surrounding towns nearby, come up the day before making the trek to the Plateau.  This way it wouldn't be so exhausting.

Anyway, the traffic back to Yogyakarta was terrible.  Narrow roads, incessant honking, endless stops -- we were moving at a snail's pace, and I was getting impatient by the minute.  My mom, however, made the road trip back bearable.  She entertained us all with stories of her childhood, her life as a working woman in Jakarta, her relatives, the responsibilities of being an American citizen in the U.S., and our first experience watching the Wayang Kulit show the night before.  She related to both guide and driver how we didn't understand a single word nor what was happening during the entire shadow puppet performance, and how just when we thought the evil character was dead he'd suddenly reappear to duel with the good guy.  It was very repetitive.  She even imitated the voice of the man behind the screen, and sounded just like him, monotone and all!  It was hilarious.  Our guide was very amused.  We almost laughed all the way home when suddenly I had to go pee so bad! 

Had I been holding my urge to go for some time?  I think so.  But suddenly I had to go, and it came to the point where it felt like if I didn't go now my bladder was going to burst.  Sitting there with my knees shaking, squeezing it all in, I couldn't bear it.  I told everyone in the car, and begged the guide and driver to pull over somewhere, anywhere, before I have an accident.  It was serious.  Never in my life have I had to urinate so bad!  I was so desperate, it was such an awful feeling.  And it felt like all the red lights held us captive forever.  It was torture.

FINALLY, we found a restaurant the guide was familiar with, one where I was able to hop out and use its facilities.  Oh my God, the washrooms were disgusting.  They were rooms used by both men and women.  Thankfully the lock on the door did its job.  In Indonesia, most washrooms are nothing more than a tiled room with a hole or drain in the ground and a concrete water basin as big as a bathtub that you would use to wash yourself.  There is no sink, no mirror, and NO toilet paper!!!  You do your business and you zip up wet and all.  Ugh, that is just so wrong.  And, what an assault on the olfactory sense!  It smelled so bad.  But I was so relieved, you have no idea.  What a bittersweet moment.  

We continued forward and by 7:45 PM, reality set in.  After all that work, all that stress, and all that time, the irony was we didn't make it to the train station after all.  We literally arrived at our hotel at 9 PM.  Having only seen Borobudur and horrendous traffic all day, it was the worse vacation day ever.  We essentially spent our entire day behind closed windows.  And we still had to cough up Rp. 900.000, or about $100 USD for the four of us, which I guess really isn't a huge deal.  Looking back now, perhaps we should have just kept on the road towards Dieng.  Had we known we wouldn't have made it to the train station on time, I would have felt better had we actually seen all of what Dieng has to offer even if it meant getting back to the hotel late.  But this is all part of travel.  Things don't go as planned, and you just never know what bumps in the road lie ahead.  It's a total gamble.  Do we go with option A or option B?  Should we keep going or turn around now?  Do we turn left or right?  Every choice has its consequences.  We made the decision to turn around on the belief that we'd make it to the station in time.  We failed, but it wasn't the end of the world, and I wasn't about to make my family get up at the crack of dawn the next day.

The silver lining?  I realized just before getting back to the hotel that if we missed the 715 AM train, there would be another one.  You must be thinking well duh.  But the question was what time?  I remembered reading during my research of train travel through SE Asia that there would be a 2 PM train to Surabaya.  With five hours on the track, we'd still make it in time to catch the 9:30 PM trip to Banyuwangi, and that's the most important connection of all because that's how we were going to get to Bali in two days.  The only sacrifice was we wouldn't spend any leisure time to explore Surabaya -- in this case, it was a very small compromise.

So that was it, plan B and it was going to work.  I was determined, and I'd find out tomorrow.  It also meant that we could all sleep in after such a physically exhausting day.  And sleep was what we all desperately needed.  Tune in next time for our journey to Bali!

Views of Batur Lake on the drive from Pemuteran to Ubud, Bali

Day 2: Part I - Borobudur & the Worst Day Ever!

Happy December, everyone!  And here I am still recounting my stories from this past summer.  I'm very behind.  Anyway, shall we continue? 

Because we didn't have much time in Yogyakarta, I wanted to make sure we did the most important thing there: visit Borobodur, Indonesia's #1 tourist attraction.  Of all the trips we've taken to Indonesia in the years past and we've not been to this beautiful place ... we were finally going to see it. 

I booked a full-day tour with Great Tours of Yogyakarta, which included Borobudur and a visit to the Dieng Plateau, a volcanic hilltop with a gorgeous view of the landscape below, a crater lake the color of aquamarine, and small, ancient Hindu temples abound. 

I got up at 3 AM with an upset stomach.  I immediately rushed to the bathroom, but the discomfort didn't end there.  In fact, this was the beginning of a very long bout of food poisoning.  More on this later.  We all officially got out of bed around 5 AM because our tour guide was scheduled to meet us at our hotel at 7 AM.  Unfortunately for him, 7 AM is the start of the hotel complimentary breakfast, and everyone but me wanted breakfast.  My mom forced me to eat and I believe bread & chocolate sprinkles and bowls of soto ayam were served -- one of my favorite Indonesian dishes, and yet I had no appetite.  We apologized to our tour guide, Mas Maralewa, who was already waiting for us in the lobby, for being a few minutes late.  Mas was young, probably early 30s, with a friendly face.  He was cheery.  Guess that's always a good sign.  He introduced us to our driver, whose name I've sadly forgotten, and we were on our way.  Little did we know, we were doomed the moment we got inside the van.  No, nothing terrible happened to us, but you'll find out soon enough.

Mawar Asri's Breakfast Room

My sisters' favorite: bread, butter & chocolate sprinkles -- it's actually pretty good.

When I first booked the tour, it was agreed that we'd see Dieng Plateau first and save Borobudur for the trip back to Yogyakarta.  The reason being is if you wait to visit Dieng in the afternoon, you risk not seeing a darn thing because of the afternoon mist that rolls in.  It would defeat the whole point of driving up there and I didn't want to chance it, so I told the tour operator Dieng first, Borobudur second.  However, Mas thought it would be better if we saw Borobudur now and Dieng later.  I can't remember what his reason for this was -- maybe something to do with the crowds being a little more rowdy at Borobudur in the afternoon, or the long drive to Dieng?  I knew it was going to be a long drive to Dieng either way; the plateau from Yogyakarta is a 4-hour drive.  But I was outnumbered.  My family wanted to see Borobudur first and couldn't care less for Dieng ... mostly because they didn't know what to expect from Dieng, and when I tried to explain what we'd see there, they still wanted to see Borobudur first.  Majority rule.  To Borobudur we went, which was about an hour's drive from Yogyakarta.

Officially at Borobudur, dressed in our best sarong!

The leisurely stroll to the temple, along with everyone else

The sign translates: Place of batik clothing

Mas and the driver dropped us off near the main entrance, which was a visitor information office, where he got us in and outfitted in black and white batik sarong.  Only a few people were being outfitted by the office women when we arrived.  I felt bulky and silly with the sarong on as I was wearing jean capris underneath, but out of respect the piece of cloth was required when setting foot inside a temple.  No exceptions.  Sacrifice a little comfort for a once-in-a-life-time opportunity.  Plus, the sarong was included in our admission ticket.  As we made our way towards the temple, we saw many people getting dressed in their sarongs.  Hmm ... I think I like our black & white sarong better! 

As expected, there were a lot of people -- mainly Indonesians from other cities.  Interestingly I don't recall seeing tourists from anywhere else. 

Proof that I was here! And boy does that banner in the back take away from it all. :(

My beautiful mom donning her beloved straw hat

We made it to the first landing and stood there to take in everything.  What a sight, Borobudur is simply beautiful, and exquisitely detailed.  The carvings were quite something.

Borobudur has licensed tour guides to explain the stories behind the many carvings.  There's a fee -- I can't remember how much -- we decided to forgo the guide because we only had two hours to spend here and really just wanted to explore on our own.  Check out the headless statue above.  We found many of them headless.

Sahara enjoying her time at Borobudur

Sahara asked someone to snap a photo of us with the temple behind us, and the above photo was the end result.  She was very annoyed because it wasn't what she had in mind.  Regardless, I think it's still a nice family photo!

After many photos on the first landing, we then made our way up the long, narrow staircase to the top, the steps themselves were very thick.  You had to literally hike up the stairs.  It was quite a work-out, but worth the effort. 

Love this photo of my sisters!

We spent a lot of time wandering and taking pictures here, and taking pictures with people we didn't know!  So many Indonesian tourists asked us to get in their photos with them.  Here you are walking minding your own business when suddenly you're being asked to take a picture here, and a picture there, and a picture with this person and a picture with that person, and how about one with the whole family!  We couldn't say no, because in Indonesia that would mean arrogance.  It was like being chased by the paparazzi (not that I know what that's like), but I can only imagine. 

We had even asked someone to take a family photo of us, just us when out of nowhere, this random girl jumped in to take Sahara's place next to mom.  Sahara was once again, very annoyed.  Umm ... excuse me? This is a family photo.  You're not a member of our family.  Please step aside.  Of course, none of us said anything.  It was funny though.  See below.

Photoshop this random girl out? 

But we did get our family photo in eventually ...

Along with more beautiful photos of Borobudur ...

My best attempt to get a photo of the stupas with as little people in it as possible -- not bad, eh?

After two hours on the grounds, we returned to our van for the next segment of our tour, which went downhill from here.  Check back soon to find out what went wrong ...

To the Island of Java - Yogyakarta: Day 1

I believe our pick-up time for the airport this morning was 10 AM.  Our flight to Yogyakarta, the land of the arts and the most convenient base for day trips to Borobudur, was at 12:25 PM.  We still owed Pak Feri his cab fare and tip from yesterday's ride, but didn't have enough Rupiah on us.  By the time we got back to Medan, it was late afternoon and the banks had already closed.  We were hoping we'd be able to exchange US dollars for more Rupiah on our way to the airport today, but from the looks of it that wasn't going to happen.  The Ramadan holiday was still in full swing, and many official business establishments remained closed.  We're going to have to pay Pak Feri in US dollars.

The hotel buffet breakfast was a huge improvement from three days ago.  Now that the fasting month was over, the cooks could taste the food they prepared, and boy was it so much better!  Not only were all the entrees piping hot, but they tasted good with just the right amount of seasoning.  Only mom and I came downstairs to join other guests for breakfast; Sahara and Gigi were so disgusted by the food last time they decided to stay in the room and eat their leftover pizza.

At 10 AM, we checked out of Asean International Hotel, bid our good-byes to the hotel staff, and rode with Pak Munasri, an elderly man we met the night we dined at Danautoba Hotel, to the airport.  Pak Munasri was a friendly old man, but one you couldn't trust wholeheartedly.  There was something about him that was a little off.  The man chuckled a lot, but didn't seem to really be listening to a word we said.  On the other hand, however, if it wasn't for Pak Munasri, we would never have met Pak Feri.  It was through Pak Munasri that we were able to arrange a ride with Pak Feri. 

A quick 15 minutes later we arrived at the airport.  We told Pak Feri yesterday that we'd meet him near the check-in kiosks.  No sooner had we retrieved our luggage from Pak Munasri's van than Pak Feri showed up to help us.  The whole point of us meeting him at the airport was so that we could pay him for his services; however, Pak Feri proceeded to check us in at the Batavia Airlines desk, get us through security, and into our terminal.  He didn't have to do all that, but he wanted to and we were so very grateful for him.  This man was truly a genuine person.  He wasn't there just for the money, which we paid him in US dollars.  We even gave him extra and told him that it would be best that he keep it in US currency and wait until the exchange rate goes up before he exchanges it for Rupiah.  He was pleased and each gave us a big hug before bidding us his good-byes and wishing us all a safe trip.

Pak Feri bidding us good-bye at Medan Polonia International Airport

We found ourselves with plenty of time to kill before boarding, so we stopped in a Starbucks all because ... well, we were thirsty, it really was the only place near our terminal, and I saw this and decided I wanted to try it ...

Doesn't that look good?!  Maybe a little weird, but hey, we're in Asia -- you're bound to find eclectic beverages such as this.  Unfortunately, when I got up to the cash register to order, the lady said they were all out of red bean.  Too bad.  Sahara and Gigi ended up getting an iced lemon tea, a tall cafe au lait, and a pastry to go.

The flight to Yogyakarta was uneventful.  Fortunately, it was short, about 3 hours including a 30-minute layover in Batam, the largest city in the Riau Islands Province of Indonesia, which sit south of the island nation of Singapore.  We arrived in Yogyakarta a little after four in the afternoon, and almost waited forever for my mom's gray carry-on luggage to show its face.  Then we proceeded to the official taxi desk where we paid Rp. 50.000, or $5 USD for a ride to our hotel.  What's nice about something like this is you don't have to negotiate cab fare or worry about drivers not using the meter.  You pay your cab fare at the desk and give the receipt to the person working the taxi stand, who calls for a taxi for you.  You pay nothing else, unless you want to tip your cab driver, which is not expected but much appreciated.

Our cab driver was a nice, bespectacled, gentleman, probably in his mid-50s who unfortunately for us, didn't seem to know where he was going.  I gave him our hotel name, address, and cross streets, and the supposedly 20-minute ride from the airport turned into 45 minutes because of his confusion and the inevitable rush hour we faced at 5 o'clock in the evening.  Ugh, we just wanted to get to our hotel already!

After what seemed like an endless ride of left and right turns, we finally got to our place of residence for the next two nights, Mawar Asri Hotel, a pleasant and modern accommodation.  The front desk clerk was welcoming and the bellhop was helpful, showing us to our room in a matter of minutes.  We were happy to find our room just as I had imagined it.  After all, I did all the hotel booking and was relieved to find my mom pleased with my selection.  The beds were spacious and comfortable, the bathroom was clean and modern, and the furniture set reminded us of something you might find in an IKEA.  A two-night stay here only cost us Rp. 900.000, or about $94 USD, and breakfast was included.

After settling in, we decided to go out for a walk and look for dinner.  We weren't hungry for anything in particular, but were definitely hungry.  I had a note on my 8-page travel itinerary about Yogyakarta's traditional dish, nasi gudeg, which is a curry of boiled jackfruit cooked in palm sugar and coconut milk, chicken, tofu & boiled egg eaten with white rice.  It's not a dish I had to have because the kind I've had in the States is rather sweet.  In fact, food on the island of Java tends to run sweeter (not spicier) than the food on the island of Sumatra, and I don't necessarily like my foods sweet.  But I thought why not have a taste in the place it came from?  Unfortunately, we never did try nasi gudeg here for reasons to unfold later. 

With my Lonely Planet map of Yogyakarta in hand, we headed straight for Jalan Malioboro, Yogya's main drag, (about a 10-minute walk from our hotel) filled with shops, restaurants, hotels, and warungs, many of which are pushcarts with just a few seats at a long, wooden table nearby.  I didn't mind walking a little farther and a little longer, but my mom spotted a bakso stand, and wanted to eat there.  Bakso is a bowl of beef meatballs and yellow or white noodles in a beef broth accompanied by crisp wontons, tofu, egg, bean sprouts, and a number of other things.  Not all bakso bowls are made equally as there are many variations, but essentially it is a beef meatball soup. 

Bakso

Gigi wasn't too thilled about the bakso, but I thought it was good.

Mom and Sahara thought it was good too.

The four bowls of bakso and our beverages of es campur, or Indonesian shaved ice with coconut, grass jelly, jackfruit, etc. only cost us Rp. 10.000, or about $1 USD.  Sweeeet!  My mom then ordered an additional bowl of just the meatballs, which only she and I ate.  We thought the food was very good and filling. 

By the time we had finished, it was nearly 8 PM just in time for a Wayang Kulit performance at the Sono-Budoyo Museum.  My sisters and I had never seen a shadow puppet show, and what better place to see it than from the island it originated?  The puppets were absolutely beautiful, made from leather attached to rods that are handled by one man behind the screen accompanied by a team of gamelan players.  Though beautifully crafted, the two-hour show was extremely boring.  The story is based on the Hindu epics the Ramayana or the Mahabharata, and we had no idea what was going on in the story.  We were given a pamphlet outlining the five or so acts, but we couldn't figure out when one act ended and when another started.  In fact, all we remembered were the fighting scenes.  And just when you think the bad guy's dead, it comes back and the bashing continues for a good 20 minutes.  The man who maneuvered the puppets was also responsible for the dialogue, which was in Javanese, but his tone of voice was monotone the entire length of the program.  It sounded like one very long soliloquy.  Inevitably I fell asleep and we ended up leaving with 30 minutes left in the show.  What a yawn. 

Gamelan players and singers behind the Wayng Kulit stage screen

On the way back to our hotel, we stopped for ginger tea at an elderly lady's street cart.  She had a huge pot of ginger tea and a glass jar filled with these pink, chewy things.  I'm really not sure what they're called in English, but the hot beverage was pretty tasty. 

We returned to the hotel and called it a night.  It had been a long day, and tomorrow we had an early morning tour to get up for.  Check back for a story on our tour to Borobudur!