It's been a long day and I did not proofread this post
Let me just vent for a sec while I’m laying in my comfy hostel bed with loud music and I’m trying to unwind.
Today was interesting, frustrating, and satisfying all at once. We left in the morning and took a bus to Prambanan temple (stopping for soto soup before the bus ride where we sat with some Indonesian guys and may or may not have gotten ripped off). On the bus, we met a strangely creepy Singaporean (could be a lie?) man who spoke little English, and a nice but quiet American gentleman who helped us find the temple entrance from the bus stop.
Quite a few people asked to take photos with me/us. At first it was cute. A bunch of schoolchildren from Java were first. They didn’t really ask, just ran up and started posing with me, but it was fine and I posed for them happily. After like 4 other people who asked us, I was sweaty and tired and just was more annoyed than anything else. Especially with the people who didn't even ask. The last person to ask was a little girl who ran up with her camera and asked if her dad could take a photo of us. I said no and felt really guilty afterwards because she was just a kid and I didn't want her to think all foreigners are rude... It was literally tropical jungle heat out there though. I was grumpy. I hope the world can forgive me.
Walking up to the main complex, three young Indonesian girls offered to take us on a tour. Their badges read “Trainee”. I thought, why not, it’s free and they’re so eager. So we agreed. It was a nice tour overall. they showed us each of the little caverns with statues and explained their names and a bit about what was carved. The girls spoke limited English and couldn’t answer deeper questions, but they were great with names and times. I felt bad because they got out of breath talking and climbing all those stairs in the heat! In the end, I wrote all good things about their tour because I wanted them to feel good and get praised by their teacher. Their English needed work. But who am I to say so, I know like 4 words in Javanese.
Next we walked to the three other temples on the complex. Two were in ruins with barely any restoration progress. I climbed a ladder on one and took some photos of course. The final temple was huge and full of rubble, it was Buddhist while the first was Hindu. We rested because of the intense heat quite a number of times. (Spoiler alert: I got SO sunburnt lol).
Leaving the complex, we returned to our hostel and booked a tour for 5am the next day, then headed out. We had a nice local meal. Decided to visit the Sultans Palace even though it was closed. Here’s where the day got a bit scary. Because we were wandering the streets next to the palace, pretty positive about where we were and enjoying the local houses, when an old man approached us. “That way wrong, the palace is closed,” he said, but of course we already knew that. “This way the Water temple!”
We knew about the water temple and he said it was open all day. So we followed his direction… And he followed at our side. He struck up a conversation. About where we are from, how he loves local food, his collection of foreign currency. Said we were all turned around, that we were at a different side of the palace than we thought. He was nice and friendly and interested in showing us around, so after a while we just kept following him. I was keeping track of where we were going and taking some photos, but nothing serious. Then, we approached a sign all in English. “Special coffee, local delicacy, great for health great value come buy!”
He tells us it’s the best coffee, everyone loves it. We say oh that’s nice but no we’re not interested. He says ok, water temple this way. And leads us confidently through the gate towards the coffee shop. Now, this is where I start to realize something is up. Because before the coffee shop, there is a shop with textile artwork hanging on the walls. And he asks us if we want to buy.
Let me tell a backstory here. The previous day we were walking with purpose someplace, and a local man stops us. Asks “where you going”. We say no thank you we know where we’re going. He persists and follows us down the block, asking where we’re from, yapping about local sights we already know about. Then he mentions a local art exhibit. This piques our interest, obviously this one is not on the map. Happy, friendly, he says “follow follow!” We follow him about halfway down a very busy street and he points to a doorway that says “student art gallery” and shows us upstairs. There’s textile artwork hanging on the walls. The “nice friendly man” leaves immediately and another “nice friendly man” takes over. Explains this is student artwork from the nearby university, shows us how wax and natural dyes are used to create the beautiful fabric art. Offers us tea. Let’s us walk around. Oh and did he mention most of them are for sale?
A foreign couple in the corner, the only other people besides some employees, decides to purchase. A big deal is made and they are sat down and the employee is grabby with their money. We never intended to buy, and as we make our way towards the exit our initial host notices. His smile is mostly gone when he says he hopes to see us again. A few hours later in the streets we see a similar shop of textile art, this one is not a student art gallery. In fact, in that same area, a “friendly nice man” asks where we’re from. If we want to see an exciting new student art gallery.
Back to the convoluted streets behind the palace. The old man leads us confidently to the coffee shop we told him we didn’t want to go to, and takes a seat as the owner takes over. Do we want a brochure? Very exclusive coffee. Actually made from the dung of an animal that likes to eat coffee (I know right ??) and he has the animal in a cage right here. Actually pretty cool. But the owner talks like a slimy dealer and I am realizing I’m not positive where I am. I look at the old man and I know we are not friends, he is not doing this out of the kindness of his heart. I actually am really nervous for my safety at this point, because we refuse the exorbitantly expensive coffee and insist we just want to see the water temple but we’ll be back to buy coffee (rule 1: lie) so the old man gets back up and leads us down a tiny tiny residential alley.
Spoiler alert: we do not get kidnapped. The old man actually delivers as promised, taking us to an amazing location that’s the corner of a house looking down on the water palace, a place we would have never found on our own. But all of my sense were on high alert for the rest of his “tour”. As we walked the scenarios got worse and worse in me head. I did not trust this man. That narrow alley, was that a trap? Could I turn around and run here if someone reached out and grabbed my friend from the doorway ahead of us? (Literally I had that horrible horrible thought). Needless to say, it was a stressful journey and I could not bring myself to small talk with this man after the coffee shop. I hinted to my friend that I didn’t like what was happening. I asked the old man why he was taking us all this way, we thought it was closer, he said “tourists ask me all the time so here I go!”
There was a small crowd in the last square we entered. They followed us to the Water palace overlook and took a quick photo with us. There was a textile art shop next to the overlook house. Then, of course, came the part where the old man asked for money. In other circumstances (example: we had asked for help. He told us he would take us there for a price. He told us anything about the location at all except water temple that way. He didn’t try to peddle us to his friends.) I would have gladly obliged. He asked for cartons of cigarettes or some American money. I had neither, so I offered him some cash (my friend, you may notice, voiced no opinions about the whole ordeal and I did not explain my nerves quite so completely to her as I did in this entry). The “nice friendly old man” grudgingly accepted my offer of small cash as we made our way out to the main road, and he did not say goodbye nor tell us where the fuck we were at the end of his maze.
We made it back to our hostel safely. It started raining during our walk and I got so stressed out from being tricked and lost and wet and tired, but we made it. After being frazzled for a bit, we decided to suck it up and have dinner. We found a place near where we ate in the afternoon, with tables on the ground and mats to sit on. Lots of local families were there and we were recommended a meal choice which we accepted. Rice with friend jackfruit, tofu, and sweet sauce. It was local and delicious! Halfway through, a woman (not an employee, just someone) stopped by our table and asked if we enjoy the local food. We said yes very much! She asked where we were from, and if we enjoyed our day today. We had a quite conversation, all smiles real ones this time, and she left with a smile and nothing more. After that interaction, I noticed a little girl at the table next to us staring. I smiled directly at her and she smiled back and looked away.
Never never, never trust a “nice friendly man on the street” who approaches without your consent. Don’t ask them for directions. Don’t let them sell you anything.
Women and children are the best and I’ll allow them to stare at me if they are polite about it.
I’ve seen young Muslim girls traveling in groups by themselves. I’ve seen young Muslim girls and boys traveling together. Groups of boys on their own, though, never fail to blatantly stare.
Indonesians actually do understand that no means no. This might be a bit surprising in light of my stories. Taxis, pedicab drivers, and shop owners may pester us constantly, but they stop bothering you immediately if you look at them and say “no thank you” with a shake of the head. On the other hand, ignoring their hellos will result in them yelling louder or even chasing you down the street. They need acknowledgment that their offers are heard. Once they know I have heard their offer and rejected it, they will always quiet down. It’s surprising. But any other way would have us followed by the entire city of Yogyakarta as a result of one day of walking. So. I’ll take it at least.
Overall, I can’t really blame these men for what they’re doing. They see some white-skinned tourists, girls or not, and work their business angle. “Hello” gets them noticed. “Where you going” gets information; maybe we are going too far and need a cab, maybe they can show us a shop along the way. But still. The whole thing is extremely frustrating, can can turn anyone into a cynic out of self-defense.
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