Living in Yogyakarta: A Beginner’s Guide

So you have decided to live in Jogja, as its known locally. Good choice, this is a GREAT city to spend some time in and get to know Java a little better. I recently stayed here for two months so I want to give you the basics on how to get setup in Jogja.

Finding somewhere to stay long term

Jogja has some great long term options, starting from dirt cheap kosts to boutique villas. If you are on a backpackers budget and just want something for a few months, I can recommend finding a guesthouse that offers monthly rates. There are three main areas that people stay, the two backpacker streets, Jl. Sosrowijayan and Jl. Prawirotaman, then  the university district in and around Jl Kaliurang. These two are my picks and places I have personally stayed.

Tiga Lima
Tiga Lima is like a Javanese version of an apartment block. They have many rooms to choose from, in standard, superior and deluxe. The monthly rate should be about $250 for a superior. Tiga Lima rooms sport air conditioning, fridges, TV, bathroom inside with hot water, plus a shared kitchen, and wifi. Tiga Lima outshines it competition in this range because of the interior decorating which is simply gorgeous. In my opinion the bathrooms are the best, many of the rooms have partial roof open air bathrooms, with modern fittings, pebble floors and bamboo lined walls. Think Japanese zen in the tropics.

A friend stayed there for almost 6 months and I visited often and just loved the atmosphere, this place is popular with semester abroad students mostly Europeans. So the crowd is a little young but they are all pretty pleasant and friendly, its clear they are having the time of their lives though it wasn’t a drunken party scene at Tiga Lima.

Agrapana Guesthouse
It’s in a great location a small side street off the major arterial Jalan Kaliurang. Pizza Hut is on the corner so it’s easy to find. A very modern guesthouse, it was only recently built. More of a hotel style feel because of the setup, the rooms are spacious and nicely decorated, deluxe and superior have an inside bathroom, superior rooms have a balcony, all rooms have cable TV, wireless Internet, shared kitchen, and communal areas. There are only a handful of rooms so it’s not too crowded but the weekends get busier with locals.

Getting some wheels 
Hiring a motorbike is super easy you can find tons of rental places around the backpacker streets, the hard part is getting a long term bargain. Most rental places have daily or weekly rates but not monthly. The cheapest I found is Pamitran located near the Jogja Plaza Hotel. They have monthly rentals starting at 600,000 for basic model auto and manual scooters. I rented the Honda Scoopy for 650,000. Includes a basic helmet, and raincoat. All you need is a photocopy of your passport photo ID.

A word on driving in Jogja, it’s busy but manageable. I do feel a little intimidated by the sheer volume of traffic but after a few drives you can get used to it, just be alert at all times!

The People on the Bus

A look of shock horror set upon my face as the driver opened the door of the packed van that was to take me on the three hour drive to surabaya. The only seat left was next to a elderly Muslim lady dressed in a dusty pink full body dress and matching hijab. The  lady suffers from the disease which makes the victim lose pigment in their skin, appearing like they are gradually becoming white. I once saw a child in India that had the same disease, it had completely covered the child’s body so that he appeared albino. At first I thought he was a foreigner but then I noticed the tattered clothes and lack of shoes. Its a strange sight to see this old women, her hands were almost completely white but for a few patches a brown. On her face a huge sprawling white splotch covered the right side including her bottom lip. The rest of her face was tanned brown. To look at her from the side you may not know. It was not so much that I didn’t want to sit next to her, but I just didn’t know if it’s contagious or not. I tried to quickly disguise my shock . But to my surprise when I had made eye contact with her, I saw that she was staring right back at me with the same look of shock horror. I am sure I looked like a sight to her, a foreign women with oversized sunglasses, iPod headphones blaring music, a sleeveless blouse and short skirt, make up, red nail polish and fashion jewellery. I think in that moment, that second of eye contact we both acknowledged something about our shared feelings of foriegness, so I just sat down.

Overtaking on the Left

The company driver, a Timorese man named Eustace is an hour and a half late to pick us up, the departure time was already put back several times that day so it’s nothing new. Its 10.30pm by the time he comes, I was originally told noon. I am being taken to Tuban, 100km from Surabaya which is where I’ll be teaching and living. Two of the office girls are coming along, I am not sure why since it’s a Friday night but I guess the boss told them to accompany me. My allusive boss Fera is the daughter in law of the company’s director Irawati, a spritely little Chinese lady who is appears very pleasant but I can tell she is a savvy businesswomen. She calls us native speakers or sometimes just speakers for short, like a commodity being traded around brokers. I guess our prices are low right now which is why nobody has bothered to even go over the contract with me, let alone give me my schedule. A week in and I feel that a trend of empty promises and being kept in the dark has only just begun.

Anyway we set off into the night and instantly I am wondering how this man could be a driver, because he clearly doesn’t understand how to use the clutch. The old jeep jars and bounces along the inadequate excuse for a highway, in the backseat we are kept in a constant state of jolting backwards and forwards, as he suddenly takes his foot from the accelerator and slams it back on. He drives maniacal like we are in downtown Baghdad and it would be dangerous to slow down or even halt for a minute. Over taking lanes are nonexistent here but that doesn’t stop him passing the large and numerous ambling petrochemical trucks, if there’s oncoming traffic that’s no problem he’ll use the left shoulder instead, that space in the road never intended for overtaking but it is possible here, leave enough room and cars and motorcycles sneak past at any opportunity. I think that’s a good euphemism for Indonesians, overtaking on the left, everything is done the way I never expect they sneak past your blind spot without any confrontation. I am sure the company are by passing me now with longer work hours I didn’t expect.

We stop at a roadside shop, an open air convenience store/cafe/the owner’s house. I jump out to have a smoke, the driver invites me to sits down, he says he is having coffee because he needs to stay awake. That’s a good idea I tell him, hoping the coffee is strong. The glass must be too hot because he pours the coffee from the glass into the saucer and drinks it that way. Berapa jam ke Tuban? How far is it to Tuban? I use the opportunity to practice a new phrase. He answers in English, its 3 hours to Tuban. Great, I say but he doesn’t catch my sarcasm. Fera had told me it was only 1 to 2 hours away, once again I’ve been passed on the left.

As we continue along the highway there is a constant stream of trucks moving all sorts of goods, the north coast of Java is rich in agriculture as well and minerals and natural gas. The tired drivers must amble all through the night on these terrible roads moving at snail’s pace to wherever be their destination. Its 1am by the time we arrive, he made pretty good time, but I shudder to think how long the drive will take on a Friday after work without a maniac driver.

The Nasi Goreng Experience

The humble street vendor on the corner of the busy street stands awaiting the night’s hungry customers. His tanned face is heavy set in deep lines which tell of a busy hardworking life. His little mobile cart is all setup, the vegetables and rice, the stove, the chopping board; everything is in its place, each space filled efficiently for its purpose. His giant wok sits atop the orange flame flickering in the wind. He is chopping onions and garlic and I can hear the oil beginning to sizzle just ready for the ingredients. I place my order behind three others “Satu nasi goreng” One nasi goreng, despite my lousy Indonesia he smiles anyway in appreciation of the effort. Nasi goreng or fried rice it’s his speciality and the only thing on the menu. Afterwards I realise I could have said it much nicer “Boleh saya minta satu nasi goreng” May I have one nasi goreng? Oh well next time I’ll remember.

He scoops out a great heaping of fluffy white rice and puts it aside. First the onions go in to spit and hiss around in the heat of the oil. Next a mixture of different sauces I can’t recognize but guess to be fish sauce. The rice is added and he skilfully stirs it around the wok just like a master chef. The mix folds over and over again so that it is never burnt. More sauces, more vegetables, more stirring and stirring and sauce. The rain is falling lightly at this point and we are all hoping it won’t pour down before we get our food. I can see the wafts of smoke and steams rising from the cart, the flavours are flying and spreading out to fill the night air. It smells of Indonesia. In five minutes it is cooked and he prepares the standard thick brown takeaway paper on which he places our portions adding a side of sliced fresh cucumber and whole green chillies. The orders are folded up quickly and neatly like he has done this a million times. I pay and it’s a squeal at 8000 rupiahs – 90 cents. I hurry back to the apartment clutching the warm bundle eager to eat, and smile because suddenly I feel more comfortable is this great big city.

The departure lounge

Flying high on a Virgin 737 across the barren central Australian landscape. I am filled once again with that familiar mix of emotions. a sense of loss for the life I have left behind, a tinge of regret and guilt for leaving my family and friends once again. If only I could be in two places at one time. But I feel that excitement of embarking upon a new adventure alive, and struck in anticipation of what is to come next. That’s the life of an occasional ESL teacher. And it’s the worst part. I cant handle the goodbyes.

After spending a stint in South Korea a year ago I’ve decided to pick up the chalk again and put off finding a “proper” job for a little while longer.

I am on my way to Bali right now with a plane full of Australians in holidaymaker mood.  Surabaya is my final destination and I couldn’t be more happy with the place. I’ve visited Surabaya for an afternoon so I don’t know that much, but it seems like that perfect mix between modern Asia and chaotic Asia. A city that is enthralling, pumping with a million sights, sounds and smells. That typical incessant honking of the traffic, the vibrant colours on the streets of fruits and vegetables, and the smells of the food stalls and pollution. A buzz with people and mixed in with that sticky, humid, sultry tropical heat. A feeling of being completely foreign yet familiar and reassuring. I know its not everyones ideal but for me I just can’t wait to start living my life is this city.

This is my life

FACT: The average life expenctancy in Australia for a female is 83.6 years, that means I have about 57 years left.

You know considering I want to LIVE on every continent in the world, learn how to PLAY Karma Police on the guitar, SPEAK another language fluently, CLIMB Kilamanjaro, learn to like vegetables, get over my fear of the ocean, live in the moment, fall in love like really in LOVE, read more Tolstoy because his stories are ART, WRITE a book and get it published, take more pictures because pictures of adventures with friends is JOY simple as that, learn how to slice in tennis, RELAX and not stress about my career, create my own business that provides FAIR TRADE to disadvantaged communities, live socially and environmentally responsible because PEOPLE and the ENVIRONMENT MATTER, read Adam Smiths A Wealth of Nations, meet PJ O’Rourke and tell him that his words and wit are one of a kind, be a part of my family and cherish their kindness more, build and strengthen relationships with people with I love because YOU guys are EVERYTHING to me, smile everyday to everyone, go scuba diving on the Great Barrier Reef, talk, converse, laugh, cry, joke, debate, with good friends and good wine and beer because the best part of life is people and the connections you create with them….. and much, much, much more

In that case I better get living

Around the world in 80 trades

Conor Woodman’s Around the World in 80 Trades, is brilliant brilliant brilliant. Its a mix of everything I am passionate about travel, random adventure and real life economics. Not since PJ O’Rourke’s Eat the Rich has anyone combined economics and travel in such a funny, smart, and witty manner.

Basically this is the idea – Conor Woodman a former London economist sells his flat and takes this money to invest in trades that take him to several spots around the world. The things I love most is that his idea harps back to a former age of business and trade. A time when merchants bought goods and travelled with them to sell on in another location. Its genuis seriously! Conor aims to double his initial capital and he does pretty well, he takes risks some win and some fail (Dude what were you thinking with that old tea in Taiwan?) but thats all part of the adventure.

I am so inspired next time I set out on a trip, I will give it a try myself.

 

Home

My favourite jogging beach,

Its the best kept secret in my area a 5 km stretch of untouched beach. Only a hand full of people come here either to walk or fish, I go in the afternoon before sunset and most of the time I am the only person around. My dog can run free and I jog barefoot in the sand and cool off my tired legs in the water after.

 The thing I love most about this beach is that everyday it looks different, the water changes colour to the full spectrum of brilliant blues to greyish steel. On some afternoons the tide is really high or really low and I have to walk about 200 metres to the water.

Like a bull through a China shop

A word on East Asian culture and Western culture

On my flight back to Australia, I was sitting next to a Chinese mother and daughter. The mother didn’t speak English and but the daughter spoke enough to manage

She asked the flight attendant what time is it in Australia now? The flight attendant said what do you want to know the time in Darwin or Melbourne? (Our flight was stopping in Darwin first then, heading on to Melbs) No the Chinese girl said what time is it in Australia? Well where are you going? I am going to Melbourne. Well if you are going to Melbourne its currently 4 o’clock

The flight attendant was clearly annoyed with the girl asking this question. She probably thought the Chinese girl didn’t understand. And the Chinese girl was annoyed that the flight attendant didn’t give her the simple answer she expected.

It seemed neither of them was aware of the different cultural factors at play. To the Chinese girl it was perfectly normal to ask what time is it in Australia. In China despite the fact it runs over five different time zones, the whole country is put on Beijing time. To the Chinese the notions of time zones are a foreign concept.

I am not trying to criticize but merely state a cultural observation to give an example of the whole issue of Eastern Asian and Western culture. This is quite an innocent situation but it highlights the issues of misunderstanding. There are so many invisible lines that we just do not see. The things we take as obvious, as a given are not the same for everyone everywhere. When dealing with another cultural we both come to the table different sets of world views, and different ideas of life. Sometimes the differences are minor. Such as countries like Australia, the US, Canada etc. But sometimes the differences are so huge that almost impossible to understand. Such as westernised culture and East Asian culture.

Another example when I lived in South Korea, the other foreigners and I become regular patrons of what we saw as our local pub. In Western society alcohol is an important part of social gatherings. Meeting you friends for a few beers at the end of the week is just a regular part of our lives. In Australia especially the idea of having a few drinks on the weekend is a primary concern to a lot of people. In Korea it’s the idea of meeting friends to share a meal that is the primary concern. Alcohol is also a big part of Korea culture, but it is as a complement to the act of sharing a meal. Whereas it is the opposite in Australia drinking is the primary concern and having a nice meal is secondary to our values. Take a look at your next bbq what would happen if there was no alcohol but there was food. I would be pissed off, but if there was no food but alcohol I would not be as perturbed.    

So what happens when you put 10 westerners in a small rural Korean town? We naturally look for a pub where we can hang out. The place was called Rich Rich, it served two things chicken and beer.  After a particularly rowdy weekend, I heard that the owners of Rich Rich complained about us being there. They complained that we didn’t buy enough chicken. I was surprised because when looking at it from a western economic point of view I didn’t see a problem. Our patronage was a clear benefit for Rich Rich, we stayed longer and spent more money than the local Koreans, we were some of their most profitable clients, plus they didn’t have to bother cooking.

It wasn’t until my friend pointed out that, well no this is a Chicken restaurant that happens to serve beer as well. It dawned on me then, how strange we must seem to the Koreans going into a Chicken restaurant and only ordering beer. We had essentially turned this chicken place into a pub when it wasnt. It didn’t matter that how much money we spent on beer, it went against their cultural norms so of course they wouldn’t be pleased. Needless to say we bought chicken after that.

Looking at another’s culture without viewing it from your own cultural prism is extremely difficult. Despite having a degree in Asian studies and writing several papers about Asian culture I still failed to see why the Rich Rich people were upset. In fact I had many occasions in South Korea of feeling like a bull through a China shop, stomping on unspoken cultural rules because I just had no idea.  At the same time I felt as though my cultural norms were constantly being shoved aside and misunderstood.

Food for thought

It occured to me that its funny how all the old colonies in Asia retain some cuisine from their European colonizers of Portugal, Spain, France. Of all the great imperialists the English were the most prevalent by far, yet you wouldn’t know it from the food.

Despite many Asian countries having centuries old cuisine, they still retain some elements of coloniel heritage in their dishes. India is a good example, in Goa the Portuguese flavour  is celebrated with many restaurants serving up a fusion of Portuguese and Indian. In Pondicherry the French connection is proudly displayed with dreamy patisseries. Melaka in Malaysia champions up Portugese grilled fish, the Philippines retains hundreds of Spanish dishes, French bakeries can be found throughout Laos and Vietnam. The most touted treat in Macau are Portugese egg tarts etc.

Something is missing here the Britsh had the most colonies in Asia but I have never seen a fish and chip shop, apart from ones you find in the backpacker allies where no locals actually eat. I guess that says enough. Who can blame them, even they dont like their own food, chicken tikka masala anyone?

I forgot there is one  place Australia, here you can find all the ye olde English culinary delights, any relation to our current obesity epedmic who knows. Cheers mate