Settling down in Yogya
by prudence on 30-Mar-2013
We've been here a little less than two weeks.
It's been quite an intense time. I've started my new job. And we've been simultaneously getting to know our new house and neighbourhood, and trying to learn Indonesian (in Nigel's case pretty much from scratch). I'm extremely grateful that my colleagues have let me get off to a very gentle start.
Our living circumstances could hardly be more different from our last home in Subang Jaya. Here we are surrounded by rice-paddies, low-rise housing, little shops, and small-scale food-providers. We get up at 5 am, and go to bed at 9 pm, when the rest of the neighbours do. Our front door faces a little street, rather than a corridor, and we are starting to learn about all the sweeping and mopping and trimming that this involves.
Our surroundings are stunningly picturesque. I can never look at rice-paddies without thinking how beautiful -- and somehow how spiritual -- they are, and the sun rising (or the moon setting) over these green, watery spaces always sends me into ecstasies. Add red roofs, tumbling vegetation, little mosques, and a thousand quirky little details -- and you get something that's always interesting and pleasing.
I am provided with transport to get to work. Otherwise, we rely on our feet, and a local "pos taxi" that gamely puts up with my stick-to-the-script Indonesian phone calls. About 15,000 rupiah away by taxi (that's about A$ 1.50, or 5 ringgit), is a large bus station, which connects us with the Transyogya bus routes. These are easy to use, and good value. We're still working on mastering the other buses, which definitely fall into the category of "less predictable". There are becak, of course, which are good for short distances, but all the becak pedallers seem to already know about our bizarre desire to walk places.
So, over the last week or so, we have paced out the neighbourhood like cats. We now know the pros and cons of the various small convenience stores, and have two regular laundries, plus a favoured supplier of "pulsa" (phone and Internet top-ups).
And of course, sussing out the myriad food options has been a real joy.
Most of our food providers are very small-scale, selling off carts or out of tiny shacks. They have particular opening hours, so you need not only a mental food map but also a mental food timetable. They produce amazingly tasty stuff, and it's all extraordinarily good value. Some dishes, like pecel (vegetables etc in a spicy, peanutty sauce), are prepared right in front of you, and it's fascinating to watch all the grinding and stirring.
The food has all been enjoyable -- sate, soup, fritters, rice-and-things packages of various descriptions -- but a couple of products really stand out. Possibly the nicest martabak I've ever had (this is egg, vegetables, and whatever else you want, enclosed in a roti-like wrapper and fried) is made by the guy with the push-cart by the market. (He also makes the most sinful pancake-like products, which come drenched in condensed milk, chocolate, and ground peanut. I always feel I should have gone hungry all day to really deserve one of these, and I haven't managed that yet, but come what may, one of these will be on my food agenda very soon).
And the lady across from our turn-off who provides breakfast is also worth mentioning in dispatches. At some point in the past she worked in America and in Korea. Now she's here, doing a roaring breakfast trade out of her tiny premises. She always greets us with a loud and enthusiastic "hallo"; everything is mega-tasty, and comes beautifully wrapped in a banana leaf and brown greaseproof paper; and breakfast for two costs somewhere between 5,000 and 14,000 rupiah).
Then there's all the food that comes to us. Various pedal-powered and motorized conveyances bring a vast range of edible products round the little streets of our neighbourhood. But you need to recognize the distinctive calls -- and you need to be quick, as they don't hang around. Still working on this...
Night has just fallen. Nigel has just come back with a big bag of nice, clean laundry, and a small bag of hot griddle cakes topped with chocolate sprinkles. When he went, the swifts were flitting around the rice-fields. By the time he came back, they'd been replaced by the bats.
I am very grateful to be able to experience this.
It's been quite an intense time. I've started my new job. And we've been simultaneously getting to know our new house and neighbourhood, and trying to learn Indonesian (in Nigel's case pretty much from scratch). I'm extremely grateful that my colleagues have let me get off to a very gentle start.
Our living circumstances could hardly be more different from our last home in Subang Jaya. Here we are surrounded by rice-paddies, low-rise housing, little shops, and small-scale food-providers. We get up at 5 am, and go to bed at 9 pm, when the rest of the neighbours do. Our front door faces a little street, rather than a corridor, and we are starting to learn about all the sweeping and mopping and trimming that this involves.
Our surroundings are stunningly picturesque. I can never look at rice-paddies without thinking how beautiful -- and somehow how spiritual -- they are, and the sun rising (or the moon setting) over these green, watery spaces always sends me into ecstasies. Add red roofs, tumbling vegetation, little mosques, and a thousand quirky little details -- and you get something that's always interesting and pleasing.
I am provided with transport to get to work. Otherwise, we rely on our feet, and a local "pos taxi" that gamely puts up with my stick-to-the-script Indonesian phone calls. About 15,000 rupiah away by taxi (that's about A$ 1.50, or 5 ringgit), is a large bus station, which connects us with the Transyogya bus routes. These are easy to use, and good value. We're still working on mastering the other buses, which definitely fall into the category of "less predictable". There are becak, of course, which are good for short distances, but all the becak pedallers seem to already know about our bizarre desire to walk places.
So, over the last week or so, we have paced out the neighbourhood like cats. We now know the pros and cons of the various small convenience stores, and have two regular laundries, plus a favoured supplier of "pulsa" (phone and Internet top-ups).
And of course, sussing out the myriad food options has been a real joy.
Most of our food providers are very small-scale, selling off carts or out of tiny shacks. They have particular opening hours, so you need not only a mental food map but also a mental food timetable. They produce amazingly tasty stuff, and it's all extraordinarily good value. Some dishes, like pecel (vegetables etc in a spicy, peanutty sauce), are prepared right in front of you, and it's fascinating to watch all the grinding and stirring.
The food has all been enjoyable -- sate, soup, fritters, rice-and-things packages of various descriptions -- but a couple of products really stand out. Possibly the nicest martabak I've ever had (this is egg, vegetables, and whatever else you want, enclosed in a roti-like wrapper and fried) is made by the guy with the push-cart by the market. (He also makes the most sinful pancake-like products, which come drenched in condensed milk, chocolate, and ground peanut. I always feel I should have gone hungry all day to really deserve one of these, and I haven't managed that yet, but come what may, one of these will be on my food agenda very soon).
And the lady across from our turn-off who provides breakfast is also worth mentioning in dispatches. At some point in the past she worked in America and in Korea. Now she's here, doing a roaring breakfast trade out of her tiny premises. She always greets us with a loud and enthusiastic "hallo"; everything is mega-tasty, and comes beautifully wrapped in a banana leaf and brown greaseproof paper; and breakfast for two costs somewhere between 5,000 and 14,000 rupiah).
Then there's all the food that comes to us. Various pedal-powered and motorized conveyances bring a vast range of edible products round the little streets of our neighbourhood. But you need to recognize the distinctive calls -- and you need to be quick, as they don't hang around. Still working on this...
Night has just fallen. Nigel has just come back with a big bag of nice, clean laundry, and a small bag of hot griddle cakes topped with chocolate sprinkles. When he went, the swifts were flitting around the rice-fields. By the time he came back, they'd been replaced by the bats.
I am very grateful to be able to experience this.