30. Makassar

Blog entries
garment factory in Makassar

garment factory in Makassar

A vibrant city, geared to shopping along the coast or in the market, and to good eating and drinking.

There is precisely one tourist site in Makassar. Fort Rotterdam – indeed, an old Dutch fort built on the remnants of an even older fort – is a rather uninteresting affair, a few of the crumbling ramparts still present, surrounding a heavily restored set of buildings which are being used as equally uninteresting museum.

the few original remains of old Fort Rotterdam

the few original remains of old Fort Rotterdam

but some nice old houses still exists, with wooden windows

but some nice old houses still exists, with wooden windows

they have started smarting up the boulevard area

they have started smarting up the boulevard area

Makassar shopping street near the coast

Makassar shopping street near the coast

But Makassar is much more than a lonely tourist site. It is a sprawling city, the biggest on Sulawesi, and the central part – the only part we ever see, of course – is a pleasant, tree-shaded collection of broad avenues, turning into a set of narrower shopping streets closer to the coast. With absolutely fabulous seafood restaurants around every corner – what is it, that Indonesians can present a steamed fish in such a way that you don’t have to worry about the bones? And with friendly, helpful, inquisitive people – but inquisitive in a nice way, curious rather than showing of their three words of English.

Despite the heat, I took a walk on a Saturday afternoon, first trying to locate the Medan Karebosi, according to my 10-year old guide book a scruffy patch of green where youth play the occasional football match, but now turned into a thriving sports complex, with fancy tennis and basketball courts, football pitches, all well maintained – or just very new. It is just that it is not being used, none of it – the heat, perhaps?

although Makassar Mall doesn't exist anymore, cappuchinos are still being served

although Makassar Mall doesn’t exist anymore, cappuchinos are still being served

head fashion in the market

head fashion in the market

The other landmark in town, according to the same guide book, was the rickety Makassar Mall, which, however, has now been pulled down for reconstruction. Around the building site, there is a busy market, mostly for cloth and garments, which may well have been made in the factory – Bangladeshi-style, it looks like, no escape – and in the small sewing ateliers nearby.

A little further Diponegoro is buried, a 19th Century rebel who mobilized an army to fight a five year war against the Dutch on Java, only to be tricked into peace negotiations, where he got nipped in the bud by the treacherous Dutch (you expect this from ancient Chinese potentates, not a European power…), and exiled to Sulawesi to be imprisoned for the rest of his life in Fort Rotterdam. The tomb is nothing special, but it is good to be reminded that not everybody loved the Dutch colonial rule, at the time.

Makassar sunset

Makassar sunset

and another Makassar sunset

and another Makassar sunset

Back on the coastal stretch, time for Makassar’s famous sunset. The place to watch this is one of the upmarket hotels with sea view, and the one I chose was, coincidentally, also the one that has draft beer, a rarity in the land of bottles. Wonderful, seeing the sun disappear, whilst sipping from a cold beer. Only to be shocked afterwards when it came to paying: beer is always comparatively expensive, in Indonesia, but in a fancy hotel at a prime location, it is really expensive!

the other fish market

the other fish market

plastic bags filled with water and aquariun fish

plastic bags filled with water and aquariun fish

each bag contains another colour

each bag contains another colour

After dark, walking back to the hotel, I came across Makassar’s equivalent of a bird market, the fish market, but not the usual type. Along the street a range of well-lit stands expose thousands of little aquarium fishes, in water-filled plastic bags. Which makes for a nice scene, although I am not exactly sure about animal rights here.

next: there is more on Makassar to come, still!

29. the crossing

Blog entries
a cyclist clearing the harbour area of plastic bottles

a cyclist clearing the harbour area of plastic bottles

An uneventful, long and slow ferry crossing from Java to Sulawesi, the closest we may come to a cruise.

It was time to move on, after four weeks on Java (and a day on Pulau Madura). Sulawesi was the next island destination. One can, of course, take a plane, but part of exploring Indonesia, with its 1000s of islands, is exploring other forms of its inter-island transport system: the ferry, which is largely in the hands of the national shipping company, Pelni. Pelni owns some 40 ships, that have sort of standard fortnightly or monthly routes, connecting ports of many islands.

There are many different experiences with Pelni ships described in various blogs and other internet and hard-copy sources – funny, scary, horrible, frightening, you name it -, largely depending on the individual ship, and on the class of travel. We didn’t have a choice of ships, but we could control the class of travel. Although no doubt economy class is the more adventurous, packed with hundreds of people in huge, hot and stuffy dormitories, or even better, moving your assigned matrass – if you are lucky enough to have an assigned matrass – outside on one of the decks to get some fresh air, together with everybody else, we opted for first class, instead. Our own air-conditioned cabin, private bath room, and a table in the elite dining room, with superior food.

our stuff being carried on board

our stuff being carried on board

porters vying for position to board at a just arriving ferry

porters vying for position to board at a just arriving ferry

our ship, rust bucket Tidar

our ship, rust bucket Tidar

the economy class dormitory, or one of them

the economy class dormitory, or one of them

Our boat, the Tidar, a bit of a rust bucket, was scheduled to leave at 2 pm from Surabaya, and reach Makassar some 24 hours later. So we turned up at the harbor an hour early, to quietly check in, and settle in our cabin. We were berthed at deck level six, for first and second class. All the doors to the outside areas were locked, to keep the overflow of economy passengers out, I suppose; only through some convolute ways down and up several stairs, through long corridors, and economy class dormitories, did we managed to get outside again. Where we watched the loading of the last freight into the front bay. We thought. Six hours later, the loading of the last freight was completed, including the front deck having been stuffed with onions. We left at seven, five hours later than scheduled departure. In the meantime, we had seen two other Pelni ferries arrive, and leave again!

the front deck packed with onions and other vegetables

the front deck packed with onions and other vegetables

no sense of urgency with the people loading

no sense of urgency with the people loading

The next 24 hours were possibly the nearest we will ever get to a cruise. Food was served regularly, at our special table in the dining room – there were four other first class passengers, and a splatter of second class passengers, with whom we shared the huge diner. Entertainment was provided, in the form, first, of what I think was one of the crew members, in a neat white uniform – we dubbed him the singing sailor. He was not very good, but managed some English language songs. Next was a woman singer, in a glitter outfit, no doubt the reason that the dining room cum theatre had by now filled up with Indonesian male youths for the occasion (for different reasons, both Sofia and I didn’t fit the standard audience profile). We left early. Apparently, we missed the dancing.

a window on the ship

a window on the ship

The next day – the whole of the long next day – we spent on board. Our cabin was, shall we say, somewhat Spartan, and not very clean, although no doubt far superior to a matrass on deck (except, perhaps, for the breeze on deck, which was far superior to our aircon). So we alternated between a stroll outside on the decks in between the matrasses of other passengers, whenever we managed to find an open door, and the dining room cum theatre, where more entertainment was put on, this time including a singing soldier – really! -, and food was served at irregular intervals, announced by the ship’s intercom in Bahasa Indonesia, but largely un-understood by us, which meant that getting food was somewhat of a chance encounter.

What can I say? Thanks to our own choice of class, there was not a lot of adventure involved, and the Pelni experience so became a rather mild, not uncomfortable, but endlessly long experience. Not very exciting.

Surabaya port by night

Surabaya port by night

Next time, we’ll take a plane. We have never been that keen on cruises, anyhow.

next: Makassar

28. Ijen Plateau

Blog entries
blue fire at night, inside the Ijen Crater

blue fire at night, inside the Ijen Crater

A fabulous night time experience inside the Ijen Crater, followed by a sunrise creating an ever improving early morning view of crater lake and surroundings.

Having had just a couple of hours of sleep during the afternoon and early evening, we were once again driving into the night, towards the Ijen Plateau. The plan was to arrive around 1 am, walk up to the Ijen Crater rim, then down into the crater itself to observe what is being called “blue fire”, the spontaneous burning of sulphur vapour which is only visible at night – the precise details of this phenomenon are still unclear to me. Then climb out of the crater again, to experience sunrise around 5 am at the rim.

For most of the two hours in the car, we drove through forests and plantations, spookily lit by an almost full moon and a sea of stars in a cloudless night. Occasionally, the dark outline of volcanoes showed against the skyline, only slightly lighter. Just after 1 am, we started walking up the Ijen slope, following a clear path, which got steeper and steeper. How did we long for the mountaineering of the masses, every time we stopped to catch our breath again! But in reality the walk, all 1.5 hours of it, was the most fabulous walk we have done so far, illuminated by moon and stars. And it wasn’t that hard, after all.

and more blue fire

and more blue fire

and even more blue fire

and even more blue fire

No sooner did we reach the crater rim, or we descended again, this time using an ever steeper path, much narrower, sometimes climbing from boulder to boulder, into the crater itself. This is the path used by the sulphur workers, men who mine almost pure sulphur next to the vent where sulphur vapour escapes from the crater floor, and then carry up to 90 kilograms of the yellow blocks on their shoulders out of the crater, and down the slope, day in day out. Some kind of a job! We were aiming for the mining spot, in fact the end of an ingenious ceramic pipes system through which the volcanic fumes are channeled, and from which molten sulphur precipitates. Next to the “mine”, in between the hot clouds of odiously smelling sulphur smoke that occasionally obscure the view, is the “blue fire” that we came to see. And blue fire it is, huge flames, burning in several spots on the edge of the crater floor. A sight I have never seen before, breathtaking – also literally, sometimes when the wind changes slightly, and we are all coughing in sulphur fumes.

one of the sulphur workers, at the "mine"

one of the sulphur workers, at the “mine”

the mining site, by daylight

the mining site, by daylight

sulphur workers carrying up their loaded baskets

sulphur workers carrying up their loaded baskets

and another one, who just reached the crater rim

and another one, who just reached the crater rim

it was only when we emrged out of the crater again, by daylight, that we saw this sign….

it was only when we emerged out of the crater again, by daylight, that we saw this sign….

By five, we were back up at the crater rim, for the sunrise. Which was rather disappointing, hidden behind one of the surrounding mountains and obscured by distant clouds. But for the next two hours we had been wanting to leave, to go back to the car, only to linger around just long enough, each time, to enjoy more and more of the surrounding landscape. First, some of the smoke from the sulphur site below cleared, to show the lake that covers most of the crater floor. Apparently the most acid lake in the world – which you don’t see, of course –, the colour was a dull grey, only to change to wonderful blue-green with increasing sun light clearing the mountains around us, and reaching the crater. And it got even better when the sun also started to illuminate the side of the crater rim. And when the sun finally reached us, too, doing something about the chilling cold that had almost made us leave far too early.

with the smoke somewhat lifted, and the sun up: the acid lake and the illuminated crater wall

with the smoke somewhat lifted, and the sun up: the acid lake and the illuminated crater wall

one of the baskets with yellow sulphur blocks - a man carries two of those up

one of the baskets with yellow sulphur blocks – a man carries two of those up

Walking down the steep path, back to the car park, was almost tougher then walking up, and an assault on the knees (which are holding up well, thank you). But the night on the Ijen was worth every piece of effort, and every minute of it. Absolute highlight of the trip, so far!

The downside was, of course, that our driver, although never participating in any of the hiking, also hadn’t slept for two nights, and admitted to watching television in the afternoon, instead. And for driving Indonesian roads, you ‘ve got to be alert, traffic overtaking both on the right and left being the norm, also from the opposite side. In the end we had to force the poor guy to stop and sleep, totally against the prevailing macho attitude of your average driver. But it did improve his alertness significantly, to the extent that he felt confident enough now to increase speed, as well as, let’s call it, road assertiveness. The last few hours’ drive back to Surabaya were even more frightening than the early ones in which he almost fell asleep behind the wheel.

next: the ferry crossing to Makassar, on the island of Sulawesi

on the way down, we have a splendid view of the Raung Crater

on the way down, we have a splendid view of the Raung Crater in the distance

27. Bromo

Blog entries
the Bromo crater in the early sunlight

the Bromo crater in the early sunlight

Mountaineering made easy: beautiful volcano scenery, but you won’t have the view for yourself.

Unbelievable as it may sound, we were running out of time. Not that we are planning to come home soon, but we had booked ourselves onto the ferry from Surabaya to Makassar, on Sulawesi, and we had just two days left to see the Bromo Volcano, after Bali and Borobudur perhaps the third most popular tourist attraction, and the Ijen Plateau, another volcanic region in East Java. This called for drastic measures, of course, and we abandoned public transport and booked the tour: leaving at midnight to drive straight to Bromo, see the sunrise, then on to a hotel near Ijen, to leave once again in the middle of the night to see what is called the blue fire inside the Ijen Crater, before yet another sunrise at the top. Those damned sunrises take a toll on proper night rest!

sunrise, just to prove we were up early

sunrise, just to prove we were up early

For Bromo, one first need to go to a village called Cemoro Lawang, to change to a 4WD Jeep. Half of the village owns a Jeep, it seems, and although I think it is possible to go all the way up in a sedan, you wouldn’t want to get cross with the village people and ruin their business model. Our tour operator certainly didn’t. We were early, 3 am, and going up the mountain we could see, behind us, the lights of a whole string of Jeeps following us in the distance below. In fact, one gets up the Penanjakan mountain, from where one observes the sunrise. We thought we were early: but arriving at the parking lot, there were in fact already plenty of Jeeps, and plenty of tourists making their way up to the viewing platform, five minutes’ walk away. I mean, this is mountaineering for the masses! We had been warned that it could get cold, so we had brought a jumper, a fleece. We were underdressed, the average Indonesian tourist on the mountain has a woolen hat, down-filled winter jacket, gloves, and whenever possible an extra blanket.

Gunung Semeru, releasing smoke, and Gunung Batok in front

Gunung Semeru, releasing smoke, and Gunung Batok in front

the viewing platform on Gunung Penanjakan, also used for antennas

the viewing platform on Gunung Penanjakan, also used for antennas

another view of Bromo (just because it is so pretty), with Gunung Semeru in the back

another view of Bromo (just because it is so pretty), with Gunung Semeru in the back

The platform, complete with several rows of benches, does in fact provide a nice view. In the distance, Gunung Semeru, with over 3600 m the highest mountain on Java, occasionally puffs some steam from its active crater top. In front are small, extinct Gunung Bakot, Gunung Kursi, and the bare crater of the Bromo – also occasionally puffing -, all three rising from what has been called the Sea of Sand, and is in fact volcanic debris at the bottom of the much larger, all-encompassing ancient Tenggar Crater. After the sunrise, most of the crowd of a couple of hundred people – relatively few, I have been told, during weekends and in the high season there are many, many more – left, to climb the Bromo proper. We stayed a little longer, until the sun had cleared the Tenggar Crater rim and started to illuminate the flanks of the Bromo. This is, after all, what we came for. And it is indeed a spectacular view.

an army of Jeeps rushing through the Sea of Sand

an army of Jeeps rushing through the Sea of Sand

The “climbing” of the Bromo, from the Sea of Sand to the crater rim, is an altogether different experience. The Jeeps are forced to park a little away from the mountain slope. It now transpires that the other half of the village owns a horse, which can be rented to bring you to halfway up the slope, otherwise a 10-15 minute walk through the sand. And through the horse shit. Which stinks. We forsook the opportunity to add another form of transport to our list, and slugged it out walking halfway up the slope. Where the stairs start. The what? The stairs! The last 100 meters or so, to the crater rim, one climbs the wooden stairs. Really! As I said, mountaineering made easy.

the stairs towards the top

the stairs towards the top

the view inside the crater

the view inside the crater

Up on the crater rim, a hand rail stops people from falling in. Many are trying anyway, crowding the area right above the stairs: having come all this way, why would you move any further? But a short walk to the side allows for more quiet, enjoying the view down into the crater, which now permanently expels a cloud of smoke, and away from the volcano, towards the Sea of Sand, and the Tenggar crater wall. Once again, nice view.

Don’t get me wrong, going up the Bromo is absolutely worthwhile. But the process, well, it undermines the idea of adventure a little. Bromo is, after all, just as developed a tourist spot as so many others we have already encountered.

next: to another volcano, and into (!) the Ijen Crater

these are flower offerings made by the Tenggar people, to be thrown over the crater edge

these are flower offerings made by the Tenggar people, to be thrown over the crater edge

26. Surabaya

Blog entries
Surabaya centre

Surabaya centre

A surprisingly cosmopolitan city, clean and green, with some sights, and many more malls.

So far, we have had several cases where guide book descriptions didn’t exactly match reality – perceived reality, to be precise – and Surabaya was not different. But this time we were pleasantly surprised. Sure, there is a lot of traffic, pollution, architectural abandon. But Surabaya also has the most cosmopolitan atmosphere of all Indonesian cities we have seen so far. There are malls – right, there are malls in all big Indonesian cities, but here the malls are full of people. There are also people in the streets, which are – unheard of in Indonesia – relatively pedestrian-friendly. Most noticeable of all, the streets are clean, hardly any rubbish lingers; parks and other public green spaces are many, and well maintained, watered: they are actually green. Perhaps it is indeed just perception, but it seems to be less noisy in the streets, too, less annoyingly loud motorbikes. And, at least in the modern centre of town, people are also less excited when seeing a foreigner, and feel less the need to comment on such sighting. Oh, and all the taxis are metered; you don’t know how welcome it is not to have to negotiate your fare, after three weeks of hassle. Nice place!

Herengracht in Amsterdam, Surabaya-style

Herengracht in Amsterdam, Surabaya-style

a window with shutter

a window with shutter, at one of the old colonial houses

a stained glass window in the House of Sampoerna

a stained glass window in the House of Sampoerna

 

There are, of course, the sights in Surabaya. Not many, and not very interesting. The best managed tourist spot is the House of Sampoerna, a museum and kretek factory – kreteks are Indonesian clove cigarettes. And cloves and tobacco is indeed the dominant smell in the museum, which seems to be designed for the glory of the Chinese family that owns the business, but has some interesting artefacts and old photos. Most impressive, however, is watching the hundreds of women roll cigarettes – 325 per hour – , chop off the ends, and then package them, at truly incredible speed. No pictures allowed, neither video, unfortunately.

 

With some goodwill, this neighbourhood can also be seen as the old Dutch colonial area, although the old buildings are mostly decrepit, falling apart, and, with one or two exceptions, not particularly pretty.

 

a balcony and metal canopy in the Chinese neighbourhood

a balcony and metal canopy in the Chinese neighbourhood

the bird cages are possibly even nicer than the birds

the bird cages are possibly even nicer than the birds

directions in the market building

directions in the market building

a Chinese dentist promoting his business

a Chinese dentist promoting his business

the Mesjid Ampel, the oldest mosque in Surabaya

the Mesjid Ampel, the oldest mosque in Surabaya

dates and nuts are popular outside the mosque

dates and nuts are popular outside the mosque

prayer caps being sold in the Arab Quarter

prayer caps being sold in the Arab Quarter

a sling being loaded on a pinisi, one of the traditional boats

a sling being loaded on a pinisi, one of the traditional boats

a young woman making notes in front of one of the wooden ships

a young woman making notes in front of one of the wooden ships

For the rest, one can wander around the Chinese Quarter, where indeed many Chinese have their business – although the market is somehow entirely in the hands of Madurese, which creates a whole different atmosphere, not as friendly and easy-going as on most other markets we have been to (I was asked for my backpack, my sunglasses and my wedding ring, apart from several demands for money). Then there is the Arab Quarter, built-up around the Mesjid Ampel, one of the oldest and holiest mosques in Indonesia. The wooden inner structure dates back to 1482, shortly after Islam had been introduced into the country, and the pillared galleries around the building were built by the Dutch in the 19th Century. Unfortunately, the mosque is so holy that non-muslims like me are not allowed in; in the whole area the atmosphere was somewhat unfriendly towards us, obvious infidels, the tolerance so often experienced in Indonesia not being a forte here. And for die-hards – we are die-hards – there is the old Kalimas harbor, where the smaller, traditional ships are being loaded and off-loaded, with goods that are less easily packed into a container, or need transport to more remote locations.

All of this is easily done in a day. Which leaves enough time to sip another iced cappuccino in one of the excellent coffee shops in any of the malls in the modern city centre.

next: big tourist atraction, the Bromo volcano

various sizes rope

various sizes rope

many of the old buildings have stained glass windows (which would benefit from a clean up)

many of the old buildings have stained glass windows (which would benefit from a clean up)

25. the Karapan Sapi

Blog entries
one of the bull span drivers,having fun in the process

one of the bull span drivers,having fun in the process

An unique bulls’ race festival, which was unfortunately postponed, which left us to watch the bulls’ beauty contest, instead.

Pulau Madura was not initially in the plan. But before we left, somebody told us to go and see the place, because the people were so different – well, we have experienced that. And when I found out that they do bull races on the island, too, there  was yet an additional reason to try to fit in this strangely unique place.

The Karapan Sapi – the bull’s race – is the most prestigious annual event on Pulau Madura, perhaps dating back to as early as the 15th Century. This is where cattle owners can not only show off their animals, but also make a killing: winning bulls are turned breeding studs, with a reputation that pays back. No wonder the bulls are being treated well, for most of the year: they are fed well, of course, including huge quantities of raw eggs, and reputedly they are even massaged, and sung to to get them to sleep at night.

Only at the races, the treatment turns uglier. The bulls race as a span of two, against another pair, over a distance of some 100 meters only, for which they take only some 10-15 seconds. The fastest time is reputedly 9 seconds. Before the race, the bulls are given chillies, ginger, and apparently even a dose of alcohol – quite an intervention, in a starkly muslim society! – to make them go faster (aspiring athletes should take note, this seems to be more efficient than doping; I don’t think Usain Bolt ever ran it in 9 seconds flat!). And just so they don’t misunderstand, the bulls’ tails are adorned with nails, as is the jockey’s whip. The jockey is balancing on a wooden toboggan of sorts, which is being pulled by the bulls.

The annual contest starts with elimination heats at village and district level, every year in August and September. The final, the Piala Presiden (President’s Cup) is somewhere in October, this year planned for the 20th. Which, with a bit of program massaging, suits us very well, thank you. Only to learn that, because of concern about animal cruelty, the Governor, the main sponsor of the Piala Presiden, had, just this year, decided to withdraw his support. Apparently, the final has now been postponed to November. Or has it? One never finds out, in this country.

a span, decorated in gold

a span, decorated in gold

part of the contest, walking a span slowly over a distance of some 50 meters

part of the contest, walking a span slowly over a distance of some 50 meters

slowly crossing those 50 m, whilst staying in between the ropes, is the idea, I believe

slowly crossing those 50 m, whilst staying in between the ropes, is the idea, I believe

What remains, is the bulls’ beauty contest preceding the finals, the so called Sono Sapi, in the stadium of Pamekasan, Pulau Madura’s capital. On the 19th. Here, the beautifully decorated bulls parade, accompanied by jockey, by gamelan orchestra, by dancers, and by a multitude of hangers-on, for some sort of prize. Speed is not the issue, today – what is the issue, remains somewhat unclear to me, but I think they need to slowly cross a distance of some 50 meters or so, in between ropes laid out in the sand. Whatever, it is an enjoyable spectacle, entertaining for an hour or so, and – although not the real thing, of course – equally unique as the races would have been.

next: to that other big Javanese city, Surabaya

plenty of prizes available

plenty of prizes available

some of the drivers are very concentrated on the job

some of the drivers are very concentrated on the job

accompanied by the band

accompanied by the band

and sometimes, by dancers

and sometimes, by dancers

these bull spans are awaiting their turn, proudly

these bull spans are awaiting their turn, proudly

flanked by their owners, possibly even more proud

flanked by their owners, possibly even more proud

and there all sorts of characters walking around

and there all sorts of characters walking around

24. Pulau Madura

Blog entries, Locations
jetty of a fishing village in Pulau Madura

jetty of a fishing village in Pulau Madura

A small island just off the tip of Java, but very different in landscape and people.

The most famous island east of Java is Bali. But there is another island, just to the east of Surabaya, called Pulau Madura. If fact, it is so close that some ten years ago it has been connected by an impressive bridge to Java.

the bridge that connects Pulau Madura with Java - just like the Rhine bridge in Emmerich, we are feeling at home!

the bridge that connects Pulau Madura with Java – just like the Rhine bridge in Emmerich, we are feeling at home!

Yet, the island couldn’t be more different than Java. Mostly flat, but for an unusual number of gaudy mosques – somehow, every kilometer or so there is another huge pink, green, blue or white mosque, with tiles, tall minarets, quite elaborate (and quite different from most of Javanese villages, where mosques are small and unobtrusive, except for the call at prayer time). The landscape is a lot dryer, dustier; here no pretty rice paddies, no picturesque villages, no palm tree overkill. The main road, which takes the southern side of the island, is lined with buildings, small businesses mostly, and is clogged with traffic. It is Saturday, and two of the settlements along the road hold market, which adds to the chaos. Besides, in many places opposite mosques the road has been narrowed, with traffic markers or rope, to slow down traffic further, in the hope that passers-by donate to the collection for the mosque; often four or five, sometimes more, volunteers are holding up plastic buckets inviting you to drop your money there. I have seen this before, in Aceh, but never to the extent as today on Pulau Madura.

cattle being transported by truck

cattle being transported by truck

the men of Pulau Madura, on the way to the cattle market

the men of Pulau Madura, on the way to the cattle market

strange customer for the becak driver?

strange customer for the becak driver?

 

We drive to Pamekasan, the island’s capital, and then across the low ridge – it turns out that the island is not really entirely flat – to the north coast. Even in this most rural of rural parts, houses are new, modern, and pretty large. Construction is booming. Obviously, the Madurese are doing well, probably mostly from family members that have moved to Java or elsewhere. Yet this stretch of road, though somewhat more attractive, is still not particularly pretty.

fishing boats in front of the beach

fishing boats in front of the beach

and some of the larger fishing boats

and some of the larger fishing boats

the river mouth clogged with all sizes of boats

the river mouth clogged with all sizes of boats

individual boats are often beautifully decorated

individual boats are often beautifully decorated

The only places worth stopping –apart from the Pamekasan stadium, where the annual bull parade takes place, more about that later – are the small fishing villages, where boats have been moored all the way up the mouth of a small river. The boats, a wide variety of types, are all very colourful, and make for good pictures, and a reason for a stroll through the villages. Which is when one starts noting that the Madurese are also very different people from the Javanese. Much more outspoken, much more direct, and much more assertive – we would make the same observation later again, in a Surabaya market dominated by Madurese sellers.

So, all together, our excursion to Pulau Madura was perhaps not the most exciting day of our travels, but certainly an experience – the realization that such a small distance across water can create such differences, in landscape as well as in people. It will be interesting to see whether such changes occur equally, or even more pronounced, moving to Sulawesi, and later on to Kalimantan.

next; the reason to come here were the bull runs, the Karapan Sapi

and more Madurese men, on the way to a party

and more Madurese men, on the way to a party

23. Solo

Blog entries
one of the nicer structures in the Solo Kraton

one of the nicer structures in the Solo Kraton

The other old Javanese Royal city, Solo, is a lot less impressive, a lot more run down than Yogyakarta, although thre are the occasional gems to be found.

Having enjoyed Yogya to the full, the atmosphere of the town perhaps more than the individual sites, having enjoyed our little gem of a hotel, and having enjoyed the Mediterranean restaurant 100 meters further down the road (where we had our first bottle of wine after three weeks, and the second the next day), it was time to move on again.

Solo, officially called Surakarta, the other Royal Javanese town, is a short train ride away. Solo and Yogya have always been competing for influence, but it looks that this issue has been firmly decided in favour of Yogya. Solo is very laid back, somehow fewer people in the streets, less traffic, not much happening at all. It looks mostly run down. There is a main avenue, Jalan Riyadi, pleasant enough to walk along, in the shade of large trees, but this doesn’t compare in the slightest with Yogya’s Jalan Malioboro.

one of the galleries, corrugated iron

one of the galleries, corrugated iron

a palace guard

a palace guard

the entrance to the palace

the entrance to the palace

The Kraton in Solo is a sad affair. The palace, at least the part open to the public, is mostly corrugated iron walk ways around a court yard, with the few mediocre museum exhibits scattered over far too many display cases, some lit, some not. The carriages, displayed in the court yard, are a joke. By one in the afternoon we are ushered out, the place is going to close. The streets outside the palace, the kampungs, lack any form of character, they are empty, lifeless. Another palace, where we arrive at two, has also closed, only open in the mornings. You see, the sultan, or the prince, is at home, and doesn’t want all those tourists around, less even the groups of bored school children. But there are no other sights in town, really.

 

one of the old houses hidden away from the streets

one of the old houses hidden away from the streets

the Cavalry and Artillery building from 1874

the Cavalry and Artillery building from 1874

And yet, wandering the streets we do find the odd point of interest. An old house, hidden from the road, almost invisible in between the modern shops. Old iron-cast benches, and lamp posts with what looks like bird cages. And, best of all, outside one of the palaces, the 1874 building of the Cavalry and Artillery, which by now has been taken over by multiple families living inside. Most of the vendors in the flower market have packed up already. It is indeed very hot today, and we decide to retreat to our nice little heritage hotel, another little gem.

But had we skipped Solo, we wouldn’t have missed much, I think.

next: the small island of Pulau Madura

an ice cream cart, where you can get your ice cream in glasses: now that is what I call style!

an ice cream cart, where you can get your ice cream in glasses: now that is what I call style!

and to add some colour, plastic balls in whole-sale quantities

and to add some colour, plastic balls in whole-sale quantities

22. Prambanan

Blog entries
the Prabanan main temple complex

the Prabanan main temple complex

A second impressive temple complex outside Yogya, just as evocative as Borobudur, but more spectacular in its first impression.

The other ancient temple complex outside Yogya is Prambanan. Where Borobudur is a Buddhist temple, built by the Sailendras dynasty, Prambanan, built around the same time, 8th and 9th Century, is Hindu, built by the competing Sanyajas dynasty – an illustration that the kingdoms of that time were rather small. History is rather vague, but they definitively were at each other’s throat, for most of the time, but also may have intermarried to secure power, at a later stage. History is vague, but predictable.

very expressive carvings

very expressive carvings

similar type of bas-relief as in Borobudur

similar type of bas-relief as in Borobudur

and the occasional statue inside the temple

and the occasional statue inside the temple

Architecturally, Borobudur is a big, but rather plumb, broad structure, where you can hardly see the top when you stand at the base, whilst in Prambanan the temples are tall, and visibly impressive, from a distance and from nearby. Once again, the bas-reliefs that adorn the temples are the most attractive part; for relative laymen like me, there is little difference in the carvings, between the Buddhist and Hindu temples. Many motifs from Borobudur are very similar to what we encounter in Prambanan – perhaps thanks to this power consolidation.

the only colour is provided by the green hardhats

the only colour is provided by the green hardhats

and by the occasional sign board, not sure what it announces

and by the occasional sign board, not sure what it announces

Like in Borobudur, they make you wear a sarong around the hips, to show respect (to the temple, to the Buddha, to the Hindu deities? – this remains unclear). Of course, the guards and cleaners, and any local officials, have been absolved from this ritual, which makes the story of respect a whole lot less convincing, but they do insist (at one stage I tried to walk around without my sarong, and was immediately reprimanded by the ever present sarong police). The area around the main temple, the Shiva temple, may only be entered wearing a green hardhat. After the 2006 earthquake, the temples were badly damaged, but this one has now been declared stable. Hmmm. Hardhats will protect you from small rubble falling, but this temple consists of big blocks of stone only. If one of those comes down, no hardhat is going to save you, so this looks like another useless ritual, but hé, let’s conform, for a change.

the Sewa temple

the Sewa temple

another view of the temple

another view of the temple

and some of the workings of the outside wall

and some of the workings of the outside wall

The main temple area is busy, this is where all the tour groups go, and the groups of school youths. They swarm over the Shiva temple and the accompanying temples around it. Ten minutes’ walk away is Candi Sewu -the Sewu temple -, a slightly smaller complex, somewhat less restored perhaps. There is nobody, we are alone. The Indiana Jones-feeling is back. Altogether a really nice experience.

We take the Trans-Jogja bus back to town, a comfortable 45 minute public bus ride for 20 cents each. The ticket lady doesn’t trust our capacity to find our way, and decides to come on the bus, too, to make sure we change at the right place, to the right connecting bus.

next: on to Solo

21. Yogyakarta (2)

Blog entries
window in the sultan's palace

window in the sultan’s palace

Perhaps the most popular tourist town in Indonesia, Yogya’s attraction outside the Kraton is mostly from the unexpected, off-the-beaten track experiences.

Yogya is one of the two royal cities of Java, the other being the Solo. Home of the Hamengkubuwono dynasty, the present sultan of that name being the tenth generation, the city has occasionally played a political role in it 250 year existence, but by now is mostly recognised for is cultural role, promoting the traditional Javanese arts – thanks to generous support from the sultan and other royals.

the central platform of the palace

the central platform of the palace

stained glass in what must be the band stand

stained glass in what must be the band stand

one of the players of the gamalan orchestra

one of the players of the gamalan orchestra

The sultan’s palace, located inside the Kraton – the walled old city, with numerous kampungs surrounding the palace –  is the main sight in Yogya. The words that come to mind wandering through the various sections are “tasteful” and “humble”. No multi-story buildings and grandiose towers, no ostentatious display of gold and silver. Instead, simple buildings and pillared courtyards, decorated with stained-glass windows, where gamelan orchestras play their music, creating a peaceful atmosphere. This is further enhanced by the court attendants, all elderly men in traditional batik costumes, a kris – a traditional curved knife – stuck in their belt.

krupuk drying on the roof

krupuk drying on the roof

Drifting through the Kraton outside the place, and losing all sense of direction in the narrow, winding streets, you could imagine Yogya a hundred years ago, not much seems to have changed. A parked becak, krupuk drying on the roof, and the ever-present laundry outside tiny wooden houses. Sometimes we end up in the yards of people’s homes, because distinguishing between what is street and what is private entrance is not always easy.

the Waterpalace

the Waterpalace

Also inside the Kraton is the Waterpalace, a by now disused playground for the sultan’s harem. Nicely restored, here again one walks in and out of kampungs through the various entrances and exits of the complex. Other obviously old structures are less recognizable, and have fallen in disrepair, but still add to the charm of this neighbourhood.

the Bank of Indonesia building

the Bank of Indonesia building

North of the Kraton starts Jalan Malioboro – indeed, named after the Duke of Marlborough, and I have no idea why. This is the main street of central Yogya, where all the action outside the Kraton is happening. Some old buildings, the Bank of Indonesia actually being one of the nicest, the restored Dutch fort Vredenburg being rather disappointing; plenty of shops left and right, and lively street life.

what's the fun of dying young chicken?

what’s the fun of dying young chicken?

Another so-called attraction from the guide books is the bird market, nowadays located to the south of the Kraton. So we duly took our becak there, only to come away disgusted. Rows of cages with, indeed, the most precious birds. All desperately trying to get out. Other cages cramped full of birds, or lizards; cages so small that the owls inside cannot even open their wings – who on earth keeps owls in a cage?; young chicken dyed in all kind of colours, just for fun. This cannot have been the idea when man was put on top of the food chain.

After the main sites, it was time to explore the Yogyakarta outside the guide books. We had gotten a few tips from the director of the tourist information center, who also happened to be the owner of the restaurant we had lunch, one day, and they proved to be excellent suggestions.

various chillies in the market

various chillies in the market

and one woman having fun chopping them up

and one woman having fun chopping them up

palm sugar blocks

palm sugar blocks

one of the more permanent inhabitants of the market

one of the more permanent inhabitants of the market

Along Jalan Malioboro, a large building is home to Yogya’s main market. At first it seems to contain mostly batik and cloths shops, who occupy the front end, as well as quite a long way inside. It didn’t look very attractive, until we reached all the way to the back, where the food and vegetable stalls are. All inside, but as colourful as a market ought to be (you know our fascination with markets, by now) – with pictures to prove it. Spices, chillies, dried fish, hundreds of types of krupuk. The meat section was the only one less well developed, or it must be for the shoe-size rats that were happily squirreling their way around (and I have big shoes!).

part of the neighbourhood along the river

part of the neighbourhood along the river

a man washing the dishes in his courtyard

a man washing the dishes in his courtyard

a shop, literally a hole in the wall, in the riverside kampung

a shop, literally a hole in the wall, in the riverside kampung

There are also a couple of rivers flowing through Yogya – well, rivers is a big word -, and one of the things to do, is to wander along one of those at the end of the afternoon. The working day is finished, people have come home, are relaxed, start cooking. Charcoal grills are being fanned everywhere, sates being prepared. In their own neighbourhood, fewer women, hardly any actually, are covered, and it bothers nobody. This is mainstream Javanese society, this is how the majority of towns folk live, I suppose. Small houses, many neatly maintained; large collections of plants in front, some flowering; small shops, not much more than a hole in the wall; the inevitable motorbike, even in these narrow alleys. Wonderful atmosphere, everybody so friendly, smiling, asking where we are going – the concept of just taking a walk remains alien, of course. Here the “hello mister” or the “where are you from” is a lot less annoying, actually allows for the opening of a conversation, however basic. We easily forgive them having a little bird in a cage, in front of their house.

next: outside Yogya is a second big temple complex, Prambanan

the view from one of the bridges

the view from one of the bridges