So this is an account of my here-a-week day.

I live in a kos, which is like a homestay, only you're more independent. I have my own bedroom and bathroom, looking out on a lovely little courtyard, full of plants and fishponds. I pay a little extra for weekday breakfasts. These are home-cooked and delicious. This morning, for the first time, my breakfast was accompanied by breakfast TV... In the time it took to consume soup, rice, fried chicken, mini bananas, and tea, we'd got through lots and lots of adverts, a report on a trial, and coverage of Iron Maiden appearing in Jakarta. Iron Maiden!!?

I went with my regular ojek (motor-cycle taxi) driver to my language course at Universitas Islam Indonesia. We went earlier than usual, to accommodate Friday Prayers. My second lesson was postponed, so I got out of school early, and my teacher brought me home on his bike. We went via a different route, dipping precipitously down to a little river at one point, climbing precipitously back up, and struggling to avoid a stubbornly in-the-way chicken in the middle. My regular ojek driver has probably been warned not to take me that way.

Walked to Ambarukmo Plaza (or Amplaz, according to that wonderful Indonesian way of truncating phrases). This is a little beyond the Affandi Museum. Easily, if hotly, walkable. You can always take a becak (trishaw), of course, if you don't feel like the exercise.

I'm quite the mall rat, on the quiet. They're definitely not all I want in life, but every now and again, they ARE what I want. Like supermarkets, they're intriguing in combining an essentially universal format with many layers that are culturally and geographically quite specific. This is a pretty upscale mall, light, airy, and spacious.

I headed for Carrefour first. Here I procured a large melamine mug with lid (so I don't have to walk backwards and forwards so often to the communal fridge), a matching plate and some plastic knives (for ease of snack management), and a small bowl, which will be a substitute for the wash basin that I don't have in my bathroom, and just can't get along comfortably without. Together, these acquisitions cost just over A$5.

I cruised the rest of the mall's offerings (the entire basement is given over to mobile telephones), and ended up on the top floor for a soursop juice. At about A$1.50, it cost just over twice its equivalent in the Beringharjo market last week, but hey, someone has to pay for the aircon. I forgot to tell them to hold the sugar. Still nice, though.

Then I taxied to the Prawirotaman area, and had lunch at the ViaVia Cafe. Being an old Yogya hand and all that, I felt a bit out of place having lunch with the grockles (an unbeatable Weymouth term for tourists). But ViaVia is one of these tourism-with-a-conscience outfits, that aims to achieve social goals, as well as make a living. So I reckon they're worth supporting. They have an international menu, but it's not the banana pancake routine -- there's an interesting range of choices from a range of cuisines. And there's also a substantial Indonesian section. My pepes (a dish that involves something steamed in a banana leaf) contained a tasty tofu and mushroom mix, and came with sambal, stir-fried greens, and more rice and salad than I could actually eat. With tea, that was 25,000 rupiah -- much more than you'd pay in a local place, of course, but we're still only talking less than A$3... If some of that can do some good, then great. They also do interesting local travel offerings, and it would have been good if I'd researched this before, as there are definitely things I would like to do with them in the future. I'm not yet such an old hand that I don't need help in getting around.

I walked a bit more round the area, which is quite a little centre for guesthouses, travel agents, and carving and handicraft places. Nice enough, but I much prefer my home area, which is more "normal".

Having broiled for long enough, I took a becak to Malioboro Street. I'm definitely not such an old hand that I can get the better of the becak drivers. There was no way I was going to get this guy lower than 15,000 rupiah, which I'm sure is far too much, even though it was a reasonable run. As usual, we mostly shared the streets with motorcycles, but there are plenty of cars, as well as some bicycles and the odd andong (horse-drawn carriage).

I got him to drop me behind Beringharjo Market, and walked through one of the narrow lanes, where there's always something interesting to spot in the vast quantity of disparate things being sold, to Malioboro Street. Ignoring the impressive array of batik, I headed for the Matahari (means "sun" in Indonesian!) department store in the Mal Malioboro. I was in search of trousers. I brought skirts with me, not realizing that I'd be travelling mainly on the back of a motorbike. Skirt-wearing young women here manage to perch side-saddle, but I fear that would be a sure recipe for disaster for me, so I either work out some way of temporarily converting skirts into trousers, find somewhere to change at work -- or buy more trousers... Which I did. One pair, anyway. I got into a major linguistic knot trying to work out what I was supposed to do with the 50,000-rupiah discount voucher with which I was presented. But I eventually got the picture -- it's money off the next thing you buy. So I bought a next thing.

Tired by now, I headed for home. Not counting the expenditure on infrastructure (clothes and implements), the cost of my day out (upmarket drink in the mall and reasonably upmarket lunch, plus two taxi rides and a becak ride) was 87,000 rupiah, or just less than A$10.

I got home to find my laundry beautifully washed and ironed (my clothes don't know what's hit them), and I hadn't been settled long at my desk before a delicious little spongy squashy cake arrived for my afternoon tea. I'm very well looked after here.

We had my first Yogya power cut a little while ago. Lasted half an hour, maybe a little longer. We're back up and running now.

Of course, not everything is running smoothly. My Indonesian still sucks. I still have only a foggy idea of how the city hangs together geographically. I still haven't totally cracked how to get to places. And I wish I wasn't alone here.

But having been here a week, I'm more fond of Yogya than ever.