We had wondered about the little railway lines for a while.

Then we began to notice the great swathes of sugar-cane fields on our way to work.

Then I became aware of the little enclave of spacious, gracious, matching houses that we passed through, each on its own tidy plot, and sporting a jolly yellow and green front wall.

It was when Nigel discovered there was a sugar factory nearby -- the Madukismo sugar factory, in fact -- that it all made sense.

And today we visited it, accompanied by Ms Shinta, a former UMY alumna who works for the PR department.

Great trip. The smell alone vaut le voyage (as M. Michelin would say) for sugar-lovers like myself.

But there's much more. Built in the 1950s, under the auspices of the Sultan, it inspires great local pride. Workers, we were told, are very happy to return each year for the sugar season (May to October).

It's also impressive as an example of 1950s industrial architecture. Opened by President Sukarno, it houses an impressive array of still functioning East German machines and locomotives.

Factories like this one always fascinate me. Each stage involves a complex of precisely calibrated machines, all ingeniously performing a very specific set of tasks that have to mesh perfectly if chaos is not to ensue. I am always awed by the way everything fits together so intricately and beautifully.

And there's something very satisfying, for cerebral workers such as us, in a place that actually MAKES things.

And make things this one certainly does. Three and a half thousand tons of sugar-cane arrive here every day to be chopped, pressed, boiled, shuggled, and packed. But it's not only 240 tons of sugar that emerge. The molasses goes to make ethanol, which is used for cosmetics. And the waste is turned into fertilizer, as well as feeding a power station that supplies electricity not only to the factory but also to the area around.

All-up, a very satisfying visit: history, mechanics, ecology, and sweetness.