A Fresh Look at Java

Expectation

Before this visit to Java, my impressions of Jakarta were perhaps a little limited. It seemed to get fairly short shrift from a few travel quarters, the narrative being that it was nice enough for a busy high-rise capital but not somewhere to make a fuss of.

Having lived in Japan – home of the world’s most famously busy high-rise capital – I was sceptical that this could be the whole story, and felt determined to give Jakarta its due. I put my preconceptions to one side and arrived ready to see what Jakarta had to offer, and how it might help me see the rest of Java in a clearer light. I’m fairly well travelled, but I was bowled over by this trip. I found everything I was looking for.

Reality

The Jakarta of my expectations was a high-rise, glass-and-steel capital with a financial heart, like so many of the world’s major cities, but just how contemporary and techy Jakarta is took me by surprise. It offers a different flavour to many other parts of Indonesia, with its mass rapid transport system and expansive malls that are a big part of the country’s economic journey. This side to the country is not tweaked for tourists, but shows the reality and future of the country.

Having a very young population, the malls are filled with live music and couples savoring the delights of the capital. In certain areas, students gather to play music with their friends in the streets, and everyone looks busy without being hectic. Islam has a central place in Javan culture, and therefore in Jakarta, so a lot of people don’t drink and there are regular public calls to prayer. As tourists, we felt neither in the way nor pandered to, even when we joined the commuters at rush hour. It was refreshing to be part of the real city rhythms.

Jakarta’s major heritage areas did feel a little bit more traditionally touristy but, like an increasing number of places, there’s now a strong contingent of domestic visitors as well as foreign ones, which provides a sense of balance. The Kota Tua old town was grand and striking. Fatahillah Square, and its informative museum, showcase the dark and troubling times Indonesia endured under occupation and pillage, and the colonial-era architecture felt jarringly beautiful in light of its history. Sharing the corridors of the National Museum with groups of school children, exactly as we would back home, felt completely normal and just as it should be. The museum itself was excellent, and brought to life by a brilliant private specialist guide who also touched on the area’s ancient history. It was a great introduction to the story of the nation.

I stopped for a drink at the historic Cafe Batavia, which has a somewhat ‘for the tourists’ reputation, but was actually pretty lovely and atmospheric – a great venue for a cool drink or coffee before exploring the rest of the city. I made my way across town by tuk tuk to Kunda Selepa Harbour, where I saw a fascinating assortment of wooden interisland transports being loaded with all sorts of cargo, the sailors clambering barefoot across gang planks and between vessels and sandbags, before learning more about the city’s seafaring identity in the low-key Bahari Museum.

Being a visitor in Jakarta didn’t feel voyeuristic or contrived at all, and that really became the theme of the trip: every interaction felt very honest and genuine. Spending a couple of days here, rather than a couple of hours, gave me a more nuanced view.

Despite perhaps not being indicative of the rest of Indonesia as a nation – as London isn’t to the rest of the UK – it tells a crucial part of the country’s story, and one which its hundreds of other narratives and cultures anchor to. It’s a joyful place, exemplifying Indonesia as relaxed, tolerant and considerate.

Java in context

I was curious to see how my new-found appreciation of Jakarta would impact my impressions of the rest of the island. Jakarta’s sense of having a very young and technically-forward population definitely continues in other parts of the island, contrasting with some of the more cliched impressions of the culture that focus on a rather narrow band of older traditions. In reality, of course, old and new cultural markers thrive harmoniously side by side, as they do in many places, and Jakarta displays that in full.

My next stop was Yogyakarta. The outskirts of the city were very lush and verdant, and the ‘spaces in between’ were full of the quiet buzz of gentle economic activity. On the train to Borobudur, I saw a wide spectrum of countryside activity, from people making and selling pots to repairing bikes.

Yogyakarta felt more bohemian and low-key than Jakarta, providing contrast. It’s where the revolution for Indonesian independence began, and its position as the island’s old capital makes it a fascinating counterbalance to the current one. There’s an excellent museum telling the city’s story through detailed dioramas, and the atmosphere there feels touchingly quiet and reverent. Once you step out into the sunlight again, you see all the historic buildings still standing from the pre-revolutionary era, which feels quite poignant. It’s a very artisanal city, and I took a batik workshop, which I thoroughly enjoyed (even though that’s not usually my kind of thing) as it felt so relaxed and accessible. I lacked the skills to make anything beautiful, but loved the process.

The food tour I took was a real highlight. This centred around Alun-Alun Kidil – a park square in southern Yogyakarta which comes alive in the evenings with music and food stalls. The area is marked by two huge banyan trees, and there’s a tradition where you can try to walk between the trees whilst blindfolded. If you manage it, then it’s said that all your dreams will come true. There were glittering stalls selling all kinds of dishes, and lots of people in their early 20s sitting on the grass just eating and chatting. The food was incredible, with so much flavour and variety. Everything was fairy-lit which enhanced the city’s vivid colours, and it was definitely a local spot, rather than something created for tourists. Yogyakarta is a low-light city, so the stars always seem bright. Combined with the gentle fairy lights and spectacular fireworks being let off into the darkness, it felt pretty magical.

Yogyakarta definitely provides a different vibe and experience to Jakarta and, for me, spending time in both cities is a must to allow you to see the distinctive elements of each with more clarity.

Twin peaks

Aside from the cities and historic sites, Java’s two big volcanoes are major attractions, and I was curious to see just how impacted they are by overtourism. The most popular way to visit both Bromo and Ijen is for sunrise, which means eye-achingly early starts in the middle of the night. I have to say, though, both experiences are definitely worth it. The long train to Probolinggo, the starting point for my drive to Bromo, was immaculate and on time and very easy. There were food trolleys selling tempting snacks on board, and this early-bird comfort eating, on top of the early start, meant that I napped a bit on the journey!

The landscape around Bromo is something else. It’s a very mountainous region, and there’s a cold edge to the air even during the day. The restaurants and hotels feel like Alpine lodges and chalets. Looking out across the sands felt like looking across Tolkien’s Mordor: just raw volcanic landscape with a steaming volcano on the horizon. Us early-morning pilgrims drank hot coffee with condensed milk, ate fried bananas and wrapped ourselves in blankets to watch the sunrise, before climbing the slopes to look out from the summit and wonder at the sizzle and crackle and sulphurous miasma of one of nature’s most powerful phenomena.

I also walked up Ijen in the dawn light, as total darkness turned to day, but was a bit slow so missed the sunrise at the top. I was actually OK with that, as I just wanted to see the volcano! There were working miners sharing the slopes, carrying down huge chunks of yellow sulphur, and the toxic blue lake at the top was just as beautiful as I’d heard, and just as deadly.

It did start to feel very crowded at certain points at both volcanoes, especially right at sunrise, as these are experiences a lot of people want to have. Are they overtouristed experiences? It’s hard to say, to be honest. A genuine micro-economy has grown up around visitors to the volcanoes, and the local community definitely benefits from direct tourism spend here, but the high volume of people, and use of many jeeps, does give significant pause. Do the benefits outweigh the downsides? There was something reassuringly honest about the matter-of-fact way that everything was handled that did make it less irksome. It didn’t feel grabby or competitive; we were just all there to watch the sunrise in unison, and there was something quite primal about that. I thought back to the busy streets of Jakarta, and the bohemian bustle of Yogyakarta, and the Bromo crowds felt a little more contextualised. This is an island in control of its economy, and taking the reins of its travel appeal. These things are ever-evolving, and finding more sustainable ways to continue these wonderful experiences is definitely a conversation worth having.

Final thought…

Java is an island of contrasts and beauty. It’s the engine of the country, and seeing Jakarta in greater depth really tells the story of Indonesia. It’s where the country is led from, and feels powerful with a sense of gravitas, and also very welcoming, neat and orderly. If you land in Jakarta and leave straight away, you definitely miss a large slice of context that helps you understand the rest of Indonesia better. Give this island, and its overlooked capital city, some quality time.

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