M-whY

A motorbike took me to the hotel I indicated. Again, the room was huge, with a private bathroom ensuite. I unpacked, took a shower, and immediately began to feel sick. Not sure if it was from exhaustion, or something I ate something I didn't agree with. For a couple minutes I was bent over the toilet, trying to puke, but there was nothing in my stomach. I stumbled to my bed and slept like a rock for a few hours.

Some rest refreshed me and when I woke up, I was all ready to go. A visit to the internet cafe was first on my list. Internet access here in Indonesia is extremely cheap. An hour costs US$1. The price reflected the connection speed though. Just checking email took a few minutes of time.

I also needed to feed myself. When it comes to eating, the Lonely Planet guide lists some possible options. Their list isn't even close to being complete though, especially if you consider all the food stands on the street. Again, I picked a place that looked decently clean, and had enough existing patrons to assure me the food was safe.

Judging from the prices, I thought the portions would be small, and ordered two mains. They must've thought I was a pig. Out of the kitchen came a big plate of fried rice and a bowl brimming with chicken soup. I thought food in Bali was cheap. Here, I felt like I was committing highway robbery.

The main attraction within Yogya itself is the Kraton. Unfortunately, it is only open to visitors until 2:00pm. I would have to check it out some other day. As it was too hot out to do anything anyways, I took my sweet time eating and just sat around observing.

Yogya is probably second to Bali as Indonesia's most popular tourist destination. The type of tourist that visits Yogya is very different from the ones that go to Kuta Beach, and even Australia and New Zealand. A lot of young travellers (by young, I mean 18-21 year olds) can be found in those places. The Oz Experience and Kiwi Experience do roaring business with the party minded youth. In Yogya, the tourists are more, well, for lack of a better word, mature. The party scene exists, but you have to go look for it, it doesn't come looking for you.

After the temperature had cooled down a bit, I went for a stroll around the city. Indonesia has fourth largest population in the world, and 80% of them are muslim. Several times during the day, prayers blasted through loudspeakers on top of mosques, and I even witnessed people praying in their holy buildings. I'm not trying to depict a city everything stops when it's time to pray. Islam in Indonesia is far more tolerant than what you'd find in the Middle East. Women are generally allowed to wear what they want, though you'll never see someone wearing tanktops and miniskirts.

Western culture has definately made an impact here. Internet cafes played Eminem, toy stores sold Spongebob and Teletubby figures. McDonald's existed, as did KFC and Pizza Hut. People owned Fords and Toyotas, but more popular were motorbikes, which I learned from Iwayan, costs about eight million rupiah for a second hand one, twelve million brand new. Lavish bank buildings stood in the richer parts of town. The economy, on the surface, looks alive and well. It's apparent not everyone is keeping up though. Becak (bicycles rickshaws) could be found on every street corner. Their operators, usually older men, seemed to spend most of their time waiting for customers. Food stands lined the street, and even during dinner time, business seemed scant.

I'll confess, it's pretty easy to toy with my feelings. Near the Kraton, next to an open field where kids played soccer, an elderly lady sat on her blanket with cheap trinkets. At a distance, I observed. Tourism in Indonesia hasn't quite recovered from the Bali blast, and for a long time time, not a single person looked at her goods. In fact, not a single tourist even walked by. As I approached her, she didn't even make an effort to get my attention. Her expression was glum. I doubt she makes a dollar the whole day, and wouldn't be surprised if she doesn't reach that figure in a week.

I don't have unlimited money. I can't help everyone I meet. But I can certainly spare a dollar. I stopped and made a show of picking out some items, when I really didn't care what I bought. I selected a backscratcher and a fan, and glanced inquiringly for a price. She said something in Bahasa that I didn't understand. We obviously couldn't communicate.

I took out a 10,000 rupiah note (US$1) and handed it to her. Maybe she thought I was some sort of idiot by overpaying, but I tell you, watching her expression change from gloomy to bright, I'll play the fool ten times over.

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