We are now at the end of our 10 day holiday (liburan) for
Idul Fitri – yes, I know, I’m basically on holiday for the whole of these three
months in Indonesia, but it meant that for these 10 days we had no lessons or
meals provided, and many of us took the opportunity to leave our art centres
and go to explore other parts of Indonesia.
Reunion with our friends from art centres in Solo and Bali.
Last week passed in a blur of travel, language, learning,
and the kinds of discoveries that come with being in an unfamiliar place with
very few fixed plans. Most of us on the program decided to visit Yogyacarta and
Solo – two cities in central Java well known for being the joint cultural
capitals of the island. It helps that 12 people from the IACS group are
studying in each city, so we could make the most of their accommodation and
knowledge of the area. Being in this part of Indonesia meant immersing
ourselves in central Javanese culture; gamelan, wayang, and the temples of
Borobodour and Prambanan all featured in our holiday, but what I really want to
write about in this post is my personal experience of the local people, and the
kindness and openness of the strangers we met along the way.
In Indonesia, being light skinned, Caucasian, or just
obviously foreign, generally gets you a lot of attention, and it’s almost
impossible to walk down any street without receiving calls of ‘Hello Mister!’
(used for both men and women). Once somebody finds out I can speak a little
Bahasa Indonesia I feel that they completely open up to me – I’m no longer just
a tourist, an object of mild interest, but a potential friend. I’m sure the
fact that we generate so much interest is the reason there always seemed to be
someone around to offer us help or advice if we were lost or were having
trouble with communication, but in general, I have found Indonesian people to
be some of the kindest, politest and most helpful people in any country I’ve
been to. Our holiday highlighted this, as there were several times we managed
to get completely lost or stuck and we became entirely reliant on the kindness
of strangers to get back on track.
One day in particular is a good example. My friend and I
wanted to visit Mount Merapi – a still active volcano in fairly close proximity
to both Yogyacarta and Solo. During Idul Fitri most places of interest in the
cities are closed, so it seemed like a good opportunity to take a bus out of
the city and explore the vicinity of the volcano. We set off for the bus
station fairly early in the morning with only a vague plan – we had to get to a
to a small village called Selo which we had heard was a good starting point for
climbing Merapi.
Unfortunately the bus station in Solo is immensely big, and
the little information we could find about which busses went where was
confusing and often seemed contradictory. Many people asked us where we wanted
to go, we replied ‘ke Selo’, and they
would nod wisely and gesture to another area of the bus station, where we would
then be sent back to the first place by another informative local. After about
half an hour of this we seemed to strike lucky, as we were suddenly ushered
onto a bus which we were told was leaving sekarang
(now). We were assured we would get to Selo if we took this bus, although this
was definitely not apparent from any information we could see written down.
The reason for this is because the bus did not, in fact, go
to Selo. After about an hour we stopped in a town that wasn't where we wanted
to be, and we were told to get out. Thoroughly confused, but somewhat
encouraged by the nods and smiles of the bus driver and a few other people also
getting of the bus, we disembarked and found ourselves in an unknown town,
somewhere in between Solo and Mount Merapi. This was the first place we could
have been completely stuck, but fortunately a girl of about 16 who had been on
the bus with us told us that she was also going to Selo and we should follow
her. A stilted conversation in Bahasa Indonesia lead us to understand that this
town was called Boyolali, and we should wait here for another bus which would
take us to Selo.
The next bus was tiny and crowded and definitely not built
for Western people – we tend to be a lot taller than Indonesians so standing up
on the bus (absolutely no chance of getting a seat) was only just possible for
me – my tall friend from Austria was bent almost double as the bus climbed its
way up into the mountains. After a few stops our helpful friend from the
previous bus departed, telling us that Selo was lagi (in this context meaning ‘further’).
When we finally reached Selo we found a road which lead
directly up the side of the mountain rather than twisting and turning as most
mountain roads would. We think this was an evacuation route, but it seemed to
be the most direct way to the top. We didn't plan on reaching the top of the
volcano as it can be dangerous without a guide and appropriate hiking equipment,
but we wanted to see how far we could get in the time we had available. The
road continued to lead straight up the side of the volcano (needless to say it
was incredibly steep), but after a while turned into a dirt track, and then a
rocky path which seemed little more than a dried up stream bed.
The village of Selo can only just be seen here through the cloud.
The lush and fertile mountainside hides the destructive nature of the volcano.
Due to the steepness of the path we managed to gain a lot of
altitude in about two hours, although the weather was misty and cloudy so the
view wasn't as good as it could have been. About half way up we reached the
border of the national park, where it was advised not to venture into without a
guide. It seemed a logical place to turn back, so we slipped and scrambled our
way back down the rocky slope of the volcano.
We weren't entirely sure how to get back to Solo, but a
friendly shopkeeper assured us that if we waited at the bus stop then a bus
would come by eventually and take us to Boyolali. After roughly an hour of
waiting, we saw the same shop keeper heading down the road towards us – he was
apologising profusely and telling us that there were no more busses to Boyolali
as busses finished early for Idul Fitri. He did however, have a friend with a
truck who might be able to take us there. Touched by his kindness, we
gratefully accepted his offer; he then proceeded to make a phone call and then
disappeared.
Our view of the volcano from the bus stop in Selo.
After another hour the sun was beginning to set and it was
getting cold (we were half way up a mountain) and we had no idea where our
friendly shop keeper had gone. We were feeling like our only option was to try
to stop a passing car and hope that they might give us a lift to Boyolali.
After standing by the side of the road for a while, looking lost and cold, a family
approached us and asked where we were going. We explained that we were trying
to get to Boyolali and they said they were going there too, and maybe we could
squeeze into their car with them.
Again, incredibly grateful for their generous offer, we
accepted, hoping that we were not somehow letting down the vanished shop-keeper
by leaving now. The family was a group of 9 people, so my friend and I brought
this number up to 11. Somehow though, we managed to all fit into the car and we
began the long, cramped journey . They were a lovely family, talking and
laughing loudly all the way; one of the girls spoke fairly good English and
explained that they had been visiting family in Selo for Idul Fitri, and were
now going back to Solo and could take us all the way there if we wanted them
to.
So we arrived back in Solo safely that evening due to the
kindness of strangers who had taken it upon themselves to help a couple of
confused bule (pronounced ‘boolay’ –
the Indonesian word for foreigners, especially light-skinned people). And
actually our whole adventure that day was made possible by friendly locals –
without their help we would have never have left the bus station!
It would be nice if English people also went to the same lengths
to help foreigners in need – we are very happy to give directions or advice if
asked, but the open and willing warmth and friendliness of Indonesian people is
something I haven’t really come across before, and it’s definitely inspiring
and heart-warming.
