Purwokerto (1-22)

After breakfast Wednesday morning I had the receptionist call a taxi to take me to the bus station. He was very friendly and spoke English well enough for us to converse a little. In one village, he pointed out the street to his house, and he showed me a photo of his younger son. When I said I would go to Wonosobo on Thursday, he said there isn’t a train, and we discussed my taking a bus. In town, he took me to the station, which was the train station. I clarified that I wanted to go to the bus station to buy a ticket. He replied, “Bus terminal.” Thus I learned that “station” is for trains and “terminal” is for buses. He suggested that I take a minibus and even took me to the minibus office to check the schedule. I was given a brochure to use so I could return there on Friday.

The hotel receptionist was very friendly with limited English, but he tried and was helpful. When I asked where I could walk to see some of Purwokerto, he directed me to Moro, which from his description sounded like a market but turned out to be a shopping center. 

Two floors are a department store that is like department stores everywhere other than the manikins wearing head coverings. The third is a “Fun Floor” with lots of arcades. 

The top floor is a food court, and I decided to eat lunch there. At the third food stall I looked at, the woman spoke to me in good English, which almost always gets my business. I had her explain two of her dishes and chose the gado-gado. The name had seemed familiar to me, but I didn’t remember what it is until she said she covers it with peanut sauce. So that was my lunch.

After lunch, I walked for a while. As in the village in Baturraden, some of the houses are bright colors. 

I enjoyed looking down some of the residential side streets. When I was in the taxi, I’d seen several venders selling rambutans and wanted some; so I was happy when I came across a vender. 

After a while I had no idea where I was in relation to the hotel and hired a trishaw to take me to the hotel. These have a seat in front of a bicycle and are the main “taxis” in the city. I showed the man the paper with the hotel’s name and address. He didn’t speak English, but he talked to his friend who also didn’t speak English but understood a little. The friend motioned for me to get in told me the price—Rp20,000. Ten minutes later we arrived at a different hotel. I showed him the paper again, and he said “Tiara Hotel,” indicated that it was far, and indicated that the fare would be 50,000. I said “20,000,” figuring it wasn’t my fault he went to the wrong hotel first. When he dropped me off, I gave him 30,000.

After a short break in my room, I decided to ask if there are any historical buildings I could visit. Since the receptionist didn’t quite understand, he called a woman who came to talk to me in quite good English. She suggested the Bank Museum, saying it is the first bank in Indonesia. So the man called a taxi to take me there.

The museum is very small and doesn’t have much; so I finished quickly. 

The most interesting section is a display of pottery banks. There are some dioramas, but since the signs were only in Indonesian, I didn’t understand what they were depicting. 

As I had suspected, when I exited, there were no metered taxis in the area. I saw several trishaws, but I decided to walk down the road toward the hotel for a while. 

I enjoyed the red roofs on houses along the river below. I passed a school with students standing by the road waiting for minibuses to go home. The girls stood on one side of the driveway; boys on the other. A few of the girls bravely spoke to me, which was fun. 

After half an hour, I came to ChocoKat (or something like that), a café specializing in chocolate sweets and drinks and decided to treat myself to a cold chocolate drink. It was delicious.

Then it was time for a trishaw to the hotel. Two drivers were chatting when I approached them. I showed them the paper about the hotel and said the name. The younger man said he knows it and spoke to the older man who would be my driver. We passed the hotel and came to the roundabout, but he turned left instead of going around. When he didn’t turn around at the next opportunity, I pointed back and said the hotel’s name. He pointed ahead and said something. We repeated this interaction a few minutes as he continued down the road. When he turned right at the stoplight instead of turning around and going back, I had no idea where he was taking me and thought he was going to the wrong hotel like the other man had done. I almost yelled the hotel’s name at him and pointed back; he pointed ahead. Finally, I was getting tired of this and I put my feet out and yelled “Stop.” He did. Then I showed him the paper again and pointed back and left. He said, “No terminal?” I don’t know how he got that idea, but he was taking me to the bus terminal. Then he turned around and followed my directions to the hotel. I felt lucky that we had passed it in the first place so I knew where I was and where I needed to be going.

I found it interesting that in the midst of the city there were some small rice plots between some buildings.

I was again the only guest at the hotel. It feels strange, but the people have been friendly and helpful.

I’m not sure why I thought I wanted to spend a day in Purwokerto. I remember reading that it is an old city like cities were before becoming modern and Westernized, and I think that’s what got my attention. It’s clearly not a tourist destination. I think some people stay here and then go to Baturraden for a day trip rather than staying there. I don’t regret my day here, as it was an interesting experience. It’s the kind of place I’ve been through on buses but not stopped at.

Observations: People seemed to like seeing me in the trishaws. Even other drivers would smile at me if I noticed that they were looking at me. In addition to trishaws, there are minivans that drive on specific routes in Purwokerto.

Motorcycles are the main transportation, and almost everyone wears a helmet. Purwokerto isn’t an especially attractive city, at least the parts I saw, but it is probably typical.

Gasoline is sold in bottles, as I’ve seen in other countries. There are also some gas stations.

When people guess where I’m from, they usually say “Holland?” first. The taxi driver said they have a lot of Dutch tourists. There’s a common history.

Family is important. One of the early questions asked is about my family—husband, children.

Indonesian tea is sweet. When I’ve been served prepared tea, it’s very sweet. When I’ve been served a tea bag and pot of water, it comes with two packets of sugar.

Baturraden (1-20)

Monday I traveled from Jakarta to Baturraden by train. When I arrived at the Jakarta train station, I was surprised to see a Krispy Kreme. Naturally, I had to try it. I splurged and took the business class train, since the fare was only $5 more than economy. According to photos online, the seats are larger, more comfortable, and farther apart. The five-hour ride was quite comfortable. After leaving the city, the train went through rice farming country. I felt at home again, as I really love the rice fields. Mountains surrounded the area for the last part of the trip.

From Purwokerto, I took a taxi to Baturraden. It rained lightly most of the way and started to rain quite heavily as we pulled into the hotel at about 3:00. This continued for over an hour, then became lighter, and finally stopped at about 7:30,

The hotel is a real resort. (I always remember the “resorts” on Koh Chang in Thailand that were not resorts in spite of their names.) Although I had a basic, interior room, I could see that other cottages have small gardens on the interior side and balconies on the exterior side. But from my area, I had a pleasant view with lots of greenery. The grounds are lovely with a couple water features. Monday night there was a car parked at one of the cottages. Tuesday I was the only guest in the about 60 rooms. I hope they are busier on weekends.

After two hours, the rain subsided and I decided to take a walk to see what’s in the area. I was glad to have my plastic shoes/boots that I had purchased because I knew it would be the rainy season here. They are winter shoes and are lined; so they’re a little warm, but that’s OK. They kept my feet dry. The hotel is on a road up the mountain that is lined with a lot of hotels. When the taxi driver had stopped to ask for directions, a woman gave him a map of hotels in the area. There are 120 hotels listed. Some are along the road; some, like mine, are off the road. This is all that’s in the area. There are a few small shops selling snacks and drinks near the hotel. I did find a road leading into a resort and adventure center. It was closed for the night, but the security guard said I could do trekking (He didn’t understand “walking.”) there. A man on a motorcycle had asked if I needed help when I was looking at the sign to the center that had a picture of tubing. He pointed and said “extreme,” I think meaning that it’s not for me. He was correct; I don’t do “extreme.”

So at 8:30 Tuesday morning I headed to the resort and adventure center. The road goes up the mountain through a tropical forest that is beautiful. By 9:00, it was hot even though it was overcast. 

I came across a couple small waterfalls and enjoyed the tropical flowers and palms. 

It was comforting to see many plants with which I am familiar from other places. 

And fun to see new ones. 

After an hour, I passed a man on a motorcycle stopped along the road. He said, “Waterfall?” which let me know that there was a special waterfall ahead. I’d seen a sign to something, but didn’t know what it meant. A few minutes later he rode to me and indicated that I could sit on the back of his motorcycle. So I did. After riding for fifteen minutes on a not-very-good road, we reached the parking lot, and I was glad I’d accepted his ride. He wouldn’t take any money. I was glad to see several minivans in the parking lot to take people back to town.

The scenic area is beautiful. Soon after arriving, I came to hot springs coming down a short waterfall and going through trenches along the walk. The water is very hot. I decided to keep walking and try the hot springs on the way back. 

As I followed the path down the mountain to the destination waterfall, I had my first photo taken with Indonesians. 

At the waterfall, the water was hot, but water coming down one side wasn’t. There is a bench beside a trench in which the water was a perfect temperature. The rocks beside the waterfall are lush green with moss. 

I continued to the bottom of the waterfall 

and then returned to the bench to relax with my feet in the water. While I was sitting there, three men arrived. Two were having a lot of fun standing under the falling water and lying in it for photos. When he came out, one of the men sat with me and we chatted a bit. The man taking the photos joined us. They are from Jakarta and were in Baturraden for a couple days holiday.

Back at the top, I did my part to support the local people. When I arrived there, a man asked if I wanted a massage. I needed to eat first and chose the one stall that had cooked food. (Since it wasn’t a weekend, only a few stalls were open.) I had my first Indonesian snack food: a few fried items—one with ground chicken, one with something like tofu, and one fried banana—and Indonesian mashed grain cooked in woven leaf pieces. The woman had said it was rice; it wasn’t rice, but I don’t know what it was. 

While I was eating, the woman from another stall came to talk to me. She pointed to her village across the valley and said she could take me there. The walk is about an hour and her son could take me back to the hotel. I was definitely interested. The massage man also joined us and asked if I was interested in the village walk. He told me the cost for the trip: Rp100,000/$8.

The massage turned out to be a mud massage. He called it sulfur, but it didn’t smell like sulfur. However, I’m sure it had some mineral from the hot springs. Since the man and woman are relatives—or good friends from the village (Their relationship wasn’t entirely clear.), she massaged my arms and hands while he did the legs and feet. Then she did the back and head. The water was too hot for me to leave my feet while she did that, but it was good for rinsing the mud off my body. Cost: Rp50,000 /$4.

When they finished, the man asked about going to the village. I thought he was asking for the woman because she had mentioned it first, but it turned out that he was taking me. When I said I thought she was taking me, she said he wanted to. I was a little disappointed about this change, partly because she speaks English better than he does and I thought I could chat with her on the way. Also because she was the one who had made the initial suggestion. I was also aware that she was deferring to what the man wanted.

The first thing the man did was cut a plant stalk for me to use as a walking stick. This was very handy and enabled me to go down the mountain more easily and quickly. 

The trail goes along a trench that keeps the water going down in one place. This water was cool. When the trench went across the river, the man held my hand. I’m not sure I could have crossed it without that support as I don’t like walking in high places without support. 

It goes to a reservoir outside the villages. 

After descending, we walked across rice fields, which I love. Looking back to the other side, we could see the hot springs waterfall on the side of the mountain. 

Walking through the rice fields again made me feel really at home. 

They were in various stages of growth, which I found interesting. Some had grains, some were grown plants without grains, and some were newly planted. I’d never seen all the growth stages at the same time.

Then we came to the village. Houses are brick covered with stucco. Many of the stucco houses are painted bright colors, like I had seen from the train. 

The village has a small mosque. 

We stopped for tea at his home where I met his wife and daughter. 

We also had Indonesian bananas. They are fat. He told his wife that I had taken many photos and gave me a thumbs up. I guess he liked it that I took a lot of photos of his area, which I have noticed in other places. His wife was wearing seven gold bands on her wrists. He asked me about American dollars. I think he wanted some.

After a short rest, he took me back to the hotel. When I paid him, he asked for extra, which I didn’t give him because we had agreed on a price and I felt that I should stick to it. When I paid for the massage, he commented that there were two people. I thought he was hinting that I should pay them both the stated price, but I ignored that since it was the same total amount of time and they were the ones who decided to work together. I felt a little like he was trying to take advantage of me, but it was all done with smiles.

As we rode back, I could see that the afternoon rain was coming. Fortunately, it didn’t start until I was in my room. This was a short, light rain day.

Although I was out for six hours, I’d started early and was back in the room at 2:30. After relaxing a bit in the room, I went to the patio that has cushioned chairs. I positioned a chair so I could see the water feature and hear the waterfall and fountain and sat there reading for a few hours. It was wonderful to have such a lovely place to relax.

I came to Baturraden because I’d read about and seen pictures of the mountains and waterfalls in the area. I thought it would be nice to stay here rather than in Purwokerto, which it was. When I walked around the area Monday evening, I could see that I wasn’t going to be able to get to these places and would just enjoy the area I was in. So I was lucky that I was able to walk to the resort and adventure center and from there through the forest and then get a ride to the waterfall where I met the man to take me to the village. It turned out to be just the kind of day I love.

Observations of the day: Several people I met wanted to shake hands in greeting. The Indonesian handshake is more a touching of hands; no pressure is applied. However, I noticed that two men who are friends applied pressure when they shook hands in greeting.

When I said I am from the U.S., both the man I talked to on the bench at the waterfall and the guide immediately said, “Barack Obama. Good.” This became a common response during my time in Indonesia.

Holiday Begins--Jakarta (1-18)

I left Wenjiang Friday afternoon to stay at a hotel near the airport so I wouldn’t have to deal with getting there Saturday morning. Since I was in a slow, bus-taking mood, I took the bus to Shuang Liu. There I was met by the taxi drivers who I remembered charge high prices; so I was ready to negotiate, but they weren’t having it. Finally a young man stopped to see where I wanted to go. Surprisingly, he spoke English fairly well, and he did agree to a slightly lower price. As we drove to the hotel, he explained why the fares are high: The airport and hotels are in Chengdu, and, since they are Shuang Liu taxis, they are not allowed to pick up return passengers. He also told me that he has to pay to take the expressway back. It was good to understand the reason for the high prices and know it wasn’t because I’m foreign.

At the hotel, I was lucky to have a receptionist who speaks English. When there was a problem with the heater, she was able to understand and deal with it. I do appreciate it when people can speak English, since my Chinese isn’t adequate for explaining things. In the morning, she walked me to a restaurant nearby where I could eat breakfast. She was happy to have her first foreign guest.

At the airport Saturday morning, I had a brief moment of uncertainty when I was at the counter to exit China, the woman took my passport to someone else and then told me to wait. When I asked if there was a problem, she said my passport number. My first thought was to wonder if I’d made an error recording it when I purchased the ticket. Another woman came and asked if I have another passport. That would be my Peace Corps passport. I said that this was the passport I had booked the ticket with. She asked if I remembered the other number, which of course I don’t. Before I answered, the first woman asked if I was going to Guanzhou, the city the flight went to, and then returning to Chengdu. When I replied that I was going to Jakarta, she quickly said “OK” and gave me my passport. I guess she figured that it wasn’t her problem since I was leaving the country. In Guanzhou the woman didn’t question my passport number. And it wasn’t questioned when I flew back to Chengdu in October. But now I know that they do have the other number on file with my name.

The flights were uneventful—thankfully. When the plane landed at 9:00 PM Jakarta time, which is an hour behind China time, the temperature was 27^o C/80^oF. Quite a change from the 10^o C/50^o F that I left behind in Chengdu. I took a prepaid, fixed rate taxi from the airport to the hotel. Unfortunately, the driver didn’t know the neighborhood where it is and got lost a few times; so the trip took almost two hours instead of one hour. But we got to the hotel. I was glad the price was fixed and prepaid.

The hotel was a good welcome and introduction to Indonesia. The reception staff are among the friendliest I have experienced. I certainly felt welcome and welcomed. I encountered this welcoming friendliness everywhere I went in the city, which made me feel welcome in the country.

Sunday morning when I asked about going to the National Museum the young woman told me that I had to purchase a bus card for RP 40 (Indonesian rupiahs), 20 of which is the cost of the card and 20 of which is credit to be used traveling. When I commented that that’s a lot for two bus trips, she said I could use hers. That was really sweet, but I didn’t want to do that. However, she was insistent, and I finally accepted, saying I’d give her the money to replace what was used. She didn’t want that, but I left her money anyway, saying that she can use it or put it on the card for others to use.

At breakfast Sunday morning, I met a Dutch young woman and we started chatting. She has just finished a four-month internship in a small, remote village on another island. I enjoyed hearing about her experiences, and I think she enjoyed sharing them with someone who understands Southeast Asian culture. Since we were both going to the National Museum, she suggested that we go together. That worked out well, as we go through museums in a similar fashion and enjoyed hanging out together for the day. I enjoyed seeing how Indonesian arts

and crafts are different from other ones I have encountered in the region. As always, I enjoyed the pottery.

Something different here are ancestor figures, which are carved and kept in homes to honor the family’s ancestors. 

One section of the museum has models of traditional Sumatran houses that were interesting as they are the types of traditional houses I’ve associated with Indonesia in the past. Some of the masks were also familiar.

After a quick lunch, we went to the National Monument. It’s in the center of a large park where many people were enjoying the afternoon. 

There were a number of characters—Indonesian as well as international ones like Sponge Bob—walking around for photo ops. 

There’s a small museum under it that has really nice dioramas depicting Indonesian history. Since the explanations are in Indonesian and English, it was a good, brief introduction to the country’s history. 

It’s possible to go to the top of the monument, but the daily quota of tickets had already been sold when we got there at 2:00; so we could only go to the lower viewing platform.

We planned to go to the cathedral, but since Renset had to get back to the hotel, we went to a small church that was closer. It was closed, perhaps for renovation. After putting her on a bus, I went to the cathedral, which is a big, beautiful building. The spires are interesting—a combination of the old style stone topped with iron white spires, giving the building a unique appearance of being both old-style and modern style. I read that the iron spires are to reduce the weight of the building in case of earthquake.

Then I went to Istiqlal Mosque, which is across the street from the cathedral. It is the largest mosque in Southeast Asia. The name Istiqlal is Arabic for “independence,” and the mosque was built from 1961 to 1978 to celebrate Indonesia’s independence. When I heard the name pronounced, I realized that it’s also the name of the main street in Taksim, Istanbul. 

The mosque has five floors—the main floor and four balconies—and the building can hold a total of 200,000 people. Although on most Fridays everyone is on the main floor, on the big holidays some people use the upper level balconies. The outside is marble and the inside is stainless steel, making it very modern. It also gives it a stark feeling that seems to lack warmth. As a woman, I was given a special, abbreviated tour and could only go to the second floor, not into the main room on the first floor. The man guiding me was the most uninterested guide I’ve had anywhere. He was checking social contacts on his phone the whole time, hardly looked at me, and wasn’t interested in answering questions. He gave me brief information about the mosque and then told me to go take some photos and returned to his phone activity.

After returning to the bus stop near the hotel, I purchased a take-out dinner: stir fried noodles with seafood. The man referred to the noodles as “goitiou,” which surprised me, as that’s the Thai name for noodle soup. They were delicious. If this is a sample of what I’ll be eating in Indonesia, I’ll be eating well.

A few early observations and impressions:

Driving is on the left; so I have to get used to that again. I was amazed when cars stopped when we were crossing the street as I’m so used to them not even slowing down. There is not constant honking in traffic that there is in Chengdu. I’m already enjoying the relatively quiet streets.

Money has lots of zeros. Everything is in thousands. The exchange rate is 12,500 rupiah to on US dollar. I got used to it pretty quickly. Bills are different colors, which helps.

The Indonesian written language uses the Western alphabet. It’s nice to be able to read the signs even though I can’t understand them. The language is not tonal, and I like the sound of it.

Buses have a special lane. There are platforms where people enter and exit. The gap between the bus and the platform varied from about 8” to 18.” Sometimes getting on the bus was a little challenging. Although people did not wait in Western-style lines, they got on the buses in an orderly fashion with no pushing, which was very nice.

There is more variety of people—in size, shape, and appearance—than in China.

As I mentioned before, people are very friendly. The museum guards welcomed us and said “good-bye” when we left. And we did that three times. At the bus stops, people asked if we needed help. When we were eating lunch, a man joined us and chatted with us in English.

A lot of the women wear headscarves. They are usually one solid color. Most have a “cap” in the front.

When I was in the area near the hotel in the evening, most of the people out were men, which was the case in Turkey.

Taking photos with foreigners is popular here, too. Renset was asked to do that a few times. An advantage of being with a young woman is that I wasn’t in demand.