Jogja on my Mind – Part I

“What is this?”

This is a sentence I use way too much these days, but I am too curious to keep my mouth shut so…I say it, over and over trying hard not to use Borat’s accent.

“Soup.”

“Do you have Nasi?” Nasi is rice in Indonesian.

“Over there.”

We go over there and make ourselves comfortable on a skinny bench facing a table. The “eatery” is covered with a tarp and feels very cozy. We are protected from the sun and the rain, if it chooses to come. The problem is that we are starving but we are clueless as to what we are about to eat as it is our first day in Indonesia. The only word we know in Indonesian is rice. You kind of learn that word in every country you visit in SEAsia as rice is what people eat here.

“Nasi? How much?”

“2,000 Rupiah”

18 cents. Really? Not only it is super cheap but the woman has a huge smile and is very welcoming.

“One please.” Got to try this nasi first before we commit.

We are handed a little package. I open it carefully. Inside is a small portion of rice and something on top, all wrapped up in banana leaves and old newspaper on the outside. A rubber band is keeping it together. I bite in and pass it along. OMG. I am either starving or the food is delicious. We quickly grab three more packages and a big piece of tofu.

“How do you call this?” I need to know because it seems like we will be eating a lot of the little packages in the days to come.

“Nasi Kucing – Cat’s Rice as it is as big as a cat’s portion of food” the man next to us explains. His good English takes me by surprise.

“What’s on top?”

“Tempe.”

Tempe?! I am so excited I feel my bum jump a tiny jump. I cannot believe my ears. Finally Vegetarian street food!!! Tempe and I fell off for a few years in the recent past. I had a package in the fridge that got moved to the freezer and stayed there for a long time, six whole years to be exact. It got thrown out in the trash the week before the trip when we had to do the deep cleaning of every nook and cranny. Sadly, I just never learned how to cook temple the delicious way. But I know good tempe when I taste one.

I finally stop blabbering and let my fingers do the talking.

Next, ice tea. Tampa gula – No sugar. The tea is jasmine and it fits the tiny cat meal perfectly. The little puffy dumplings that you see on the photo below are are made of cabbage and carrots and are so good! We start helping ourselves from the basket on the table. I open the fly net cover and close it. Once, twice, three times, four, five…I loose count quickly.

The man with the perfect English has a beautiful batik shirt. Once I complement him on it, the conversation starts flowing. He is a batik artist who actually made the batik cloth for the shirt. He is curious about us and also eager to answer all of our questions no matter how random they might be.

“When is the Indonesian New Year?” At one point I blurt out with seemingly no connection to whatever we are discussing at the moment.

“Same as you but we have many many New Years. We have Muslim New Year, Buddhist New Year, Hindu New Year…”

“What is your religion?” I am my usual direct self.

“I am a Muslim. But I am a bad one. I drink beer”.

“And you don’t wake up at 4 am to pray?”

“No. I don’t. But in Indonesia it is NOT ok NOT to have a religion. You HAVE to believe in a God and have a religion BUT if you don’t practice, it is ok.”

“Why?”

“Well, the government don’t allow communists.”

Along with that fact we find out that the police is usually undercover dressed as civilians. The cops can be anywhere at any time. After our police drama in Cambodia that is good news. I refrain from asking him if he is a cop. We finish our cat’s portions of rice, drink our tea, chat some more and then make a date with our new friend to walk to his studio in a few hours after we visit the Water Palace.

One day in Jogjakarta and I feel strangely at home here. There is something about the city that is very seductive. I am not sure if it is the ease of life, the flowing conversations, the public transport(!!!) or the fact that we are not treated as tourist here but as guests. People don’t try to sell us stuff every step of the way. Conversations here are prompted out from curiosity rather than the typical ever present sales pitch. The biggest difference though is that they are carried out in good English. We can finally have long exchanges with the local people, not just the usual basic swap of words. This by itself is a huge change, as we are all excited to connect on a deeper level. The kids especially. They are starved to talk to anyone who has more than basic command of the English language.

Jogjakarta is a city with rich history and culture. it is old and distinguished, even though it is scuffed at the edges and has no luster whatsoever. More than by the tourist sites though I am taken by the cozy scale of its residential areas. The little alleys invite us to duck in and explore. There are no courtyards and open spaces as Java is very densely populated. The neighborhoods are a maze of walls, entryways and tiny courtyards. Through the windows we glimpse everyday life – women cooking, men making jewelry or crafting pottery. We see children being taken to school on motorbikes. We are also chased by a group of school girls for a while until they get scolded by an older lady. We see boys flying kites, trying to cut the strings of their opponent’s kites. The community feel is very palpable in every neighborhood. We see outdoor community “living rooms” featuring a TV and a covered wooden platform for chilling out. Some of those cozy nooks have tablas, chess or books scattered around. In the streets we see the daily newspapers being exhibited in glass frames for everyone to read. Someone has the job of changing the newspaper postings daily!

When we walk down the little alleys life freezes. People stop doing what they are doing and they smile at us. More people come out and look at us. At a narrow street twenty people gather up and stare. They bring the babies forward for us to admire. By now we are used to a lot of attention and are very comfortable with it. I enjoy the slow exchanges of dialog and the beautiful connection, no matter how fleeting it might be.

We explore the city on foot and the traditional way, in becak. At first we have a problem being wheeled around by a man in a oversized baby stroller, but in support of old traditions we give it a try. In the rain the driver packages us up with plastic so all we see are blurred lines and silhouettes. It feels nice to be tucked in with Boryan in a tiny space, the coziest ride we have ever taken together.

There is diversity in religions here that is mind boggling, but the Ministry of Religious Affairs (?!) only recognizes six official religions:  Islam, Hindu, Buddhist, Protestantism, Catholicism and Confucianism. Indonesian law requires that every Indonesian citizen holds an identity card that identifies them with one of these six religions. Indonesia does not recognize agnosticism or atheism, and blasphemy is illegal.

In our tightly knit neighborhood in Jogjakarta people of different believes live in harmony and peace. We are awaken every morning at 4 am with the call for prayer from the next door mosque. At noon we hear Hindu prayers. Our host is a Christian and his neighbors are Muslim. The teenage girls we see have the latest I-phone, a boyfriend and besides the head scarf there is nothing else separating them from their non Muslim friends.

The cultural sites here are well worth a visit. The underground mosque at the Water Palace is a spectacular piece of architecture. It affected me in the same way as the Pantheon in Rome. Also, Prambanan temple is a must see.

But honestly I would have enjoyed the city even without the famous sites. The main draw for me is its chill melancholic vibe and the true hospitality of its people, a great introduction to Indonesia.

We are happy that we started our exploration of this beautiful country here at Jogja, as the locals lovingly call the city.

-M