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Published: August 28th 2008
Solo Countryside
These are all tea trees.After our marathon Bromo trip we all slept in, uninterested in any plans that involved an alarm clock. We got up around 9 and set off in search of more tasty street food. Our first selection was some coconut custard treats to tide us over until we found a suitable restaurant. Once there we ordered a selection of menu items we didn't recognize and tried things until we were stuffed. Back at the hotel we booked a tour out to Candis (candi=temple) Sukuh and Ceto, about an hour outside of Solo in the countryside. We had a few hours until our guide, Patrick, was back from the tour he was currently leading, so we took the reception desk's suggestion and walked to the Prince's Palace, supposedly the most beautiful in Solo.
We walked by it at first, as the guys wouldn't believe me when I suggested that the fenced in property with the brown grass might be the location we were searching for. After some inquiries of the local street vendors, we confirmed that I had been right. The actual grounds of the Palace were nicer than the park out front, but our admission only let us wander the grounds,
Prince's Palace, Solo
Trust me, this was the most interesting thing there. not leaving much to see. We ended up hiring a local guide so that we could view the interior of the palace. The prince and his family still live there, so you are unable to enter the buildings without a guide so that you don't accidentally disturb anyone. The inside was nice, but nothing spectacular. We decided to skip the Sultan's Palace; if this was the more beautiful of the two it was not worth the time and admission fees to see the Kraton!
A short break for reading and lounging later, we met with Patrick, the highly recommended tour guide that led most of the tours based at our hotel. We made a small detour on the way to pick up Patrick's sister. She lives in one of the mountain villages we would be passing through, so we agreed to give her a ride home. As we passed through Solo Patrick gave us some background on the sites. The saddest was a trip through Chinatown, which has virtually no Chinese residents since the horrible riots there in 1998. By all accounts Indonesia has worked to heal the wounds left by the anti-Chinese rioting of '98, but the absence
Candi Cetho
Or as our guide liked to call it, Middle Earth. of ethnic Chinese in Chinatown was a reminder of how bad things were.
About half an hour out of Solo we began our climb into the mountains where we were greeted by gorgeous vistas full of rice paddies, tea plantations, and mist and clouds. I could have just stared out of the car windows for hours. Our first stop was Candi Ceto, a temple that contained 14 levels on the top of a hill. The climb rewarded us with parting clouds at the top, allowing for a brief glimpse of how beautiful the temple was. We couldn't help but giggle like school children, though, at the many phallic sculptures that decorated the grounds. The moment that brought out our inner five year olds selves the most was when Patrick rubbed his finger on a penis statue, then asked each of us to smell his finger. Apparently people have been rubbing aromatic oils on the statue for a while now...
We moved on to Candi Sukuh in anticipation of the sunset. This Candi is shaped like a Mayan temple. It was much smaller than those that I've seen in Central America, but the resemblance was pretty remarkable. No one
The Giant Turtle
Look closely for evidence of a fertility cult... knows why this lone pyramid was built, but it definitely made us ponder the possibilities. Unfortunately, the clouds refused to part this time, and we were forced to abandon the temple without witnessing the promised sunset. We tried stopping at some rice paddies on the way back, but the clouds continued to obscure the sun from our view.
By the time we got back to the hotel we were ready for dinner, and decided to check out Mas Mul, a restaurant that Lonely Planet had promised us would serve up fresh cobra. We grabbed a pair of becaks and took off for the restaurant, more than a little shocked when we pulled up to a tiny shack on a dimly lit street. There was only room for about 10 people inside, and it was already half full of locals. That's when the fun began. First, the snake handler pulled a cobra from a bag and stepped on the tip of its tail to keep it from escaping. Keep in mind that we were only about 2 feet away from our dinner the whole time. Next he swatted the snake on the end so that he would show us his
Phallus worship
There seems to have been a lot of this near Solo. hood. After a few minutes of taunting the snake, the handler grabbed it behind its head, put his other foot (wearing only sandals!) on the mouth, and chopped the head off with a large cleaver. Next, the snake's body was drained of all its blood, filling a shot glass that was half full of red bull. Next came skinning the snake, and then the heart and spinal cord were removed and added to the shot glass. We had ordered 2 snakes, so there was a shot each for Wes and Ronn. I couldn't bring myself to join in the fun, but happily took videos of the guys instead. Our snakes were chopped up, sauteed and then roasted into a tasty saute. It had different consistencies that varied based on the part of the snake, ranging from tough sections to ones that were soft and flaky and reminiscent of fish. When we were done we headed back to the hotel. The guys considered the snake to simply be an appetizer, so we went to a nearby restaurant that Patrick had recommended, Ramayana. Ronn added to his list of first time meats with some pigeon, while Wes and I stuck to foods
Candi Sukuh
How did the Mayans end up in Indonesia? A mystery that may never be solved. we'd had before. On our walk back we stopped to watch various performances in celebration of Independence Day. Even though the holiday was a week earlier, Java was still celebrating. The acts included terrible rockers, a country/western band, and a children's performance of the Ramayana dance. The last was the best, and we watched for at least half an hour. All in all it was an accomplished day, and we were sad to know that we needed to leave Solo in the morning.
Sunday morning we caught the train to Yogya, a much more pleasant experience than the last few buses we had been on. Upon arrival we were immediately befriended by a local named Friendly (he showed us his ID to prove it). Friendly took us on a tour of the local guesthouses, and Wes and I took one while Ronn moved on to one that was a little cheaper. Then Friendly brought us to a relative to do our laundry, and another relative to book us on a tour to Borobudur and Prambanan the next day. Assuming we had spent enough money with Friendly's relatives was wrong, however, and he suggested we check out some batik that
More Phallus Worship
This time at Candi Sukuh. These types of statues were EVERYWHERE. Definitely not a PG travel location. was only around for one more day. We had heard of this scam and had no interest in batik, so we turned him down. Friendly took it rather well.
While at the tourist office, a 17 year old girl from Solo found herself smitten with Ronn, and we adopted her for the afternoon so that she could practice her English and I could practice my Bahasa (and so that she could take lots of pictures of us to text to her friends). We made the long walk into central Yogya, stopping at the Sultan's Palace along the way. We were rather restricted in our access to the grounds, finally convincing us that Sultan's Palaces were highly overrated. We moved on to the bird market, where we lost Ronn and our new friend for a while, and Wes and I worked overtime to shake off batik touts while enjoying the view from the top of the ruins of the old water palace (the Sultan's bath house). After reuniting we took a horse carriage ride back to our hostels and took a break from the heat and humidity to drink banana coconut milkshakes and browse the internet at bedhot cafe. Dinner
Becak Ride
40k roundtrip for the three of us to travel to Mas Mul for a cobra dinner. consisted of a trip to the main drag, Jalan Marlioboro, for some street food. It was fantastic - full of jack fruit sauces that we had been dying to try since we got to Solo.
Borobudur required a 4:40 am wakeup the following morning, as our driver was picking us up at 5 am for yet another sunrise viewing. We had booked tickets the night before for the overnight train to Jakarta, so we left our bags with reception at the guesthouse and set off for Borobudur. We arrived around 6 am, just past the sunrise. We didn't miss much, as it was once again cloudy (so much for traveling in the dry season!) and the temple didn't open until 6 am anyhow. Borobudur is an old Buddhist temple. We spent two hours wandering around each level in a clockwise direction (for good karma). It was just as spectacular as we had been promised. After Borobudur we stopped at another nearby temple, then got talked into stopping at a silver smith shop. After we all refused to buy silver we set off for Prambanan, a large Hindu temple about an hour and a half away. Prambanan sustained a great
deal of damage in an earthquake 2 years ago, and much of it was closed off to the public while its structural integrity was restored. We enjoyed it nonetheless, especially when we discovered some smaller temples on the grounds where we could explore without having to see any other tourists.
By the time we returned to Yogya it was around 2 pm and we were tired. We spent a lazy day at cafes eating, drinking, reading and playing on the internet. The real world was closing in fast and we all had a lot of boring details to attend to. We made one last visit to the street food stands, then set off for the train station. We had booked the executif class train, which meant air con, reclining seats, and a snack. It was definitely worth the extra $10.
We arrived in Jakarta around 5 am, exhausted and in need of breakfast. We headed to Jalan Jaksa on the recommendation of Lonely Planet, who had assured us we could catch a cheap airport bus there. We could not. Ronn left his bags with a hotel and we settled in to breakfast down the street. We were soon
joined by a trio of drunk old expats who would not stop harassing and lecturing us. We finally abandoned them and Ronn, and Wes and I caught a cab to the airport. We spent a few hours spending the last of our Rupiah on airport food, then headed back for our final few days in Bangkok.
***Check back in a few days if you want to see video of the cobra experience. I'm waiting on better internet for the upload.
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