Yogyakarta, Java, Indonesia

After an early departure from Ubud with Congtit at the wheel, we departed lovely Bali for Java on Mandala Airlines. Our one hour flight crossed the small ocean gap between Bali and Java and passed smoldering volcanoes and controlled burn forest fires. We flew close to Gunung Merapi (above) the smoking volcano that killed 42 people in an eruption in 1994. We landed at Yogyakarta (pronounced Jog-ja-kar-ta or Jog-ja), a city of a half-million. As our taxi exited the airport we could see that Jogja is a lot different than Ubud. Multiply Ubud's busy traffic by ten and add a thick layer of smog, remove all the natural beauty, and ornate Hindu statues, flags, and offerings, and you get Jogja. "Tell me again, why are we here?" asked Lindso. It is not a city that makes a great first impression. But we were here because Jogja is known as the "Historic heart of Java" and because it is within driving distance of two of the world's great monuments, Borobudur and Prambanan.
Our hotel, the Duta Garden, located in the Prawirotaman district, was an oasis of calm from the choking pollution and noise of Jogja. With a pool and a man-made waterfall running into a koi pond, it was pretty and comfortable.
We decided to attempt a run on the streets of Jogja. Wow. I thought the traffic of Bali was crazy, but Java is unreal. Did I mention that Java is the most populous island on Earth? 120 Million people live on an island the size of the state of Mississippi. Imagine 40% of the US population squeezed into Mississippi. Now imagine they all drive mopeds. And they all want to be in your lane. Some we passed laughed and pointed, but we also got smiles, thumbs up , and even one high-five. The other vehicles even made an effort to avoid killing us. It's probably a long day at court if you run over a tourist. We struggled through several short runs during our four days in Jogja, and we never did come across a park or open area. We survived, but it will have to go down as the worst place I've ever run, and that's saying something.

After running we went for a stroll about town. The Kraton (Sultan's castle) was about a mile or two from our hotel, easily walkable, or so we thought. By midday the temperature was up to 94 degrees and 88% humidity. Ten minutes of walking had us melting. We are cheap, and we never take cabs if we can avoid it. But, as we dodged traffic on the sidewalkless, shadeless streets, we realized we could not go on like this. Enter the Becak.

The becak is a curious human-powered contraption, native to Java. It's back half is a bicycle. It's front half is a canvas roofed cart with two sturdy wheels, and seating for two (Indonesian-sized) people. During our short walk we were hailed every fifty feet by cries of "Becak?" "Becak?" from the multitudes of Becak drivers. There are twenty becak drivers lounging in their parked becaks for every one on the move with a paying customer. Finally we agreed to haggle with one smiling old man for a ride. We told him where we wanted to go, and his opening bid was 15,000 rupiah ($1.65). $1.65 to be pedaled all the way across town. We didn't haggle, we just hopped in.

One might think it romantic to squeeze in a becak with your better half and be pedaled around an exotic Asian city. Perhaps like a gondola in Venice, or a rickshaw in colonial Bombay. I can now attest that a becak ride in Yogyakarta is not the least bit romantic. First off, your driver is not a colorfully dressed Venetian gondolier. He is an older well-weathered man, possibly in his sixties. He is shabbily dressed, dirty, and within minutes sweating profusely while trying to haul your over-fed American ass all over town. This man is no Lance Armstrong either. Your becak will be moving at approximately seven miles per hour, just a little faster than your walking pace. Meanwhile, buses will blast by you, horns ablazing, at 35mph. Scooters will brush your shoulder as they fly by on both sides. Each of the hundreds of vehicles that pass you will spurt unmufflered exhaust directly into your face. After a half hour in the becak you will have a slight headache, feel a bit sick to your stomach, and have stinging in your eyes. Your skin and clothes will reek of gasoline, and the parts of you that don't fit under the little canvas roof will be soaked in sweat from the unyielding Java sun. Despite all this, it still beats walking, and you will ride the becak everywhere you go.

Becak driving is not a profitable occupation, judging by the number of idle becaks, it would not be unusual for a driver to go an entire day without a fare. For this reason, when you agree to a becak ride the driver will press you to let him drive you around all day. As an American with the "time is money" ethic, you will be suspicious of a man willing to wait around for you for two hours while you go to a shopping mall or restaurant. But you are likely his only fare for the day, and you are paying an inflated tourist price, so he will wait as long as it takes. Once you accept this shocking economic situation at face value, that a sixty year old man is willing to pedal you around all day, in ninety degree heat, for four dollars; you can just avail yourself of his services, give him a good tip, and everybody's happy.

For a real view of a becak ride, click play below.

We rode the becak to the Kraton, the Water Castle, the bird market, and Malioboro street, which is the main shopping area of Jogja. We got an amusing tour of the Kraton from a seventy-six year old woman, who spoke decent English, but with a difficult accent. This adorable little lady had lived next door to the Sultan's palace all her life, and had met the current, and two previous, Sultans. She made jokes with us throughout the tour about such things as how much of a dowry I would have had to pay to Lindso's dad if she were Indonesian, how I could pick up another wife or two while I was in Jogja, and how it is tradition for the bride to be carried by the groom to the altar, but that one of the Sultan's daughters was so fat, she just walked up. The Kraton itself was nothing special to look at. The Sultan of Yogyakarta still lives there though, and is one of the front runners for the presidency of Indonesia in the 2009 election.

We also toured the water castle, where we had a useless "English speaking" guide who would point to a half-empty algae filled pool and say "Sultan's pool". Then on to an empty concrete room; "Sultan's bedroom." Next a tower where the top level is covered by graffiti, "Erma loves Moti" and "Steve from Brisbane 2003". Insightful guide explains, "Sultan's tower." Save yourself the eighty cent entry and skip the water castle.
Next we went on by becak to the bird market, where for a few rupiah you can buy a pair of frightened and sad looking owls in a tiny cage, or a dozen beautiful songbirds desperately trying to flap their way to daylight. Or, if you already have your own birds, you can buy a basket of wriggling maggots and ants for bird feed. Lovely place. We didn't linger.
As we continued on our becak tour Jogja did start to redeem itself to us. We passed through quiet back streets, where children ran by us smiling, some shouting "Hello, How are you? Good day!" and giggling. Like Bali, Jogja seems to be full of smiles. No one here was anything other than friendly and helpful to us. We also discovered that Jogja is even a little bit cheaper than rock-bottom Bali. Some prices of items we purchased here; t-shirt for $1.37, Bintang beer for 87 cents, an entree of delicious chicken satay with peanut sauce $2.32, bottle of water 22 cents, haircut $2.75, hour of Javanese massage $8.



After our tour of Jogja we retreated to the small tourist area of Prawirotaman around our hotel. We discovered several decent restaurants with happy hours, cheap Bintang, and surprisingly good food. We tried them all! Jogja was growing on us.