An Update

Research in progress; too busy to post much. Sorry.

Alas, the agonizing final week has begun...

Things are good but increasingly strange.

That is all.

Graffiti, Jogja Style

Most of the descriptions of Jogjakarta are (understandably) focused on its unique and abundant cultural attractions, but few provide a real feel for what navigating the city is like. One thing that strikes me about this place is the abundance of street art everywhere. The graffiti here ranges from classic NY-style pieces to the newer type of character and stencil work currently blowing up on the international scene. Naturally, there are plenty of poorly executed tags as well. Aside from graffiti, there are some really interesting murals to be seen. The already ultra-textured surfaces here make it all even more interesting. A few days back I walked around an area not far from where I stay, taking pictures of stuff I liked. I also stopped to shoot at a bridge that was blocked off from traffic and got mobbed by some crazy kids, which was pretty hilarious. There is so much more to be added to this - hopefully I'll be updating it again later. For now, enjoy.

This "love hate love" guy gets up a lot around Jogja. I like his work.

Ehhh... a graduated ND filter would make this 1000x better :(
Too bad I ordered one online but they sent me the wrong size..
Care for a swim?

These kids kept demanding that I take pictures of them.
I have one of them all doing crouching spiderman poses.
The one on the bottom was the most insane little kid ever.
It seemed life half the time he was just screaming. This is not a poem.

Haha these faces look TOO Javanese though.

This wall is opposite the one shown above.

Mind the wall, ya. It hasn't had its meal yet and is not in the best of moods.

Wathaa!!!!

Someone drew mustaches on the two faces on top. I think that added-in mustaches are very under-appreciated by the general public. I've seen some really great ones on the buses in Cincinnati.

It's all about stencils these days.

The quote bubble on the left says: "Don't have sex right away".
The one on the right says "Study! Become [don't know the last word]".
Along the pillar in the middle/right, it says "Tribute to ML".
"ML" is slang for having sex, or "making love".

This goes well with the emo music they're playing right now in this internet cafe.

One of my favs. Inside that doorway was a really nasty looking watery corridor.

(Rp = $)

Also one of my favs.

"love hate love"

That's Javanese for something like "park in the back/side" or something. I forget what my friend told me it said. Words that start with "ng" and "mb" are fun. One of my favorites is "mbak", in which the "k" is sort of a silent glottal stop. In your mouth it feels like it starts off bouncy and ends sticky. "Mbak" is a polite way to address younger women.

Sultan Sightings

Dewi & I saw the Sultan today, or rather we saw his Mercedes being escorted by a police car into an upscale hotel. "Oh, that's Pak Sultan", she said. The license plate on his car tells it apart - in Jogja all the vehicles have license plates that read: "AB ****" (AB followed by a four-digit number), but Pak Sultan's car's plate reads "AB 1". I wonder what it must feeling riding through Jogjakarta as its Sultan. Though much is changing with regard to the Kraton's role in Javanese society and the role of the Sultan, there's still a huge amount of respect and admiration for the position of Sultan, which is evident in his royal title "Hamengku Buwono" ("He Who Cradles The World"). He is also the automatic governor of Yogyakarta, and currently an Indonesian presidential candidate. What does he see as he passes through the city - his city? What issues does he worry about? Having been Javanese royalty since birth, how does he view himself in relation to the people? What does he envision for the future of Jogjakarta?

Even though I couldn't see through the tinted windows of his Mercedes, it was still exciting to know that such a revered and powerful person sat inside - an embodiment of centuries of Javanese culture and tradition, yet thoroughly Western-educated and quite modern in many of his outlooks.

This is not to say that he is not without his detractors. Some see the entire power structure of Jogjakarta to be feudal and backwards. Others have told me that Pak Sultan is very corrupt. Many are put off by his various commercial initiatives for Jogjakarta, and would rather see another member of the royal family head the throne (my friend prefers Pak Sultan's younger brother, Joyokusumo).

Malam Jumaat Kliwon

Last Thursday evening was malam Jumaat Kliwon (the night before the day when the Javanese weekday Kliwon falls on a Friday (Jumaat)). This night, along with that of Kliwon Selasa (Kliwon Tuesday), is considered to be auspicious and an ideal time for introspection, meditation, and communication with the larger spiritual forces at work in one’s life. This was my second time visiting Parangkusumo on such a night. During my first trip to Parangkusumo on Kliwon Selasa I was interested primarily in the rituals being done and the symbolism behind them. This time I wanted to get a better feel for the functionality of the space and the people in attendance.

Soon after entering, I was approached by a middle-aged woman in modest garb and a dark pink jilbab [Indonesian-style Islamic headscarf]. She inquired whereabouts I was from, whether I was still studying, and so on. I felt something was strange about her, but I couldn’t put my finger on it. Then she told me that she liked [to date] younger western men, smiling coquettishly. She invited me to chat with her off to the side, away from all the foot traffic. There she continued to flirt with me, though I couldn’t understand half of what she said. She asked if I was rich, whether I liked to “main-main cewek” [main = “to play”, cewek = “girl” or “chick”], whether I’d ever been with an older woman, and some other questions which seemed more vulgar but I couldn’t understand. She told me she was from Solo [about an hour from Yogyakarta by train] and that that night was her second time working at Parangkusumo (the first being on Selasa Kliwon). I want to find out if that is the general trend with the other prostitutes there. I need to visit a few times on normal nights to see what differences there are.

The whole space at Parangkusumo – from the square/courtyard to the beach – seems more enigmatic the more I try to analyze it. It is a place of contrasts and paradoxes. Prostitutes meet their customers next to the mosque. Islamic prayers are recited while supplicants channel the power of Java’s sea-goddess, Nyai Roro Kidul. It’s difficult to take it all in. At the same moment I was politely dodging the woman's advances, people were deep in prayer at the sacred rocks. Others were laying idly on the steps of the mosque and wall-less structures, while yet others sang the praises of their wares outside the courtyard, chatted with friends, begged, ate, shopped, performed, gave massages, watched the rituals take place, or had cheap thrills with prostitutes in nearby rooms. Everything seemed to clash yet there was no trace of conflict.

There were even more people at Parangkusumo this time than at Selasa Kliwon. I think malam Jumaat Kliwon is generally more popular that Selasa Kliwon. The majority of the visitors were men, with about an even age distribution among them. Most of the women there were involved either in the rituals, meditation, or in the selling of food, trinkets, massages, flowers (for ritual offerings), and sex. I didn't see many of them walking around to shop or eat. The only children I saw (one or two of them) had come with family members to partake in the rituals. There must have been at least 500 people there when I arrived around 11pm, and I was the only bule (Westerner) to be seen. The rituals being performed were not significantly different than those done on Selasa Kliwon, though it needs to be understood that what goes on there is this: individuals or small groups come to perform their own personal prayers - there are no elaborate staged performance-like rituals done. There are basic motions to be gone through when praying there, but it's by no means a scripted, scheduled event. People move in and out of the sacred rock enclosure the whole night.

Like before, plenty of prostitutes were standing around. I would estimate there were around 40 or 50 of them there that night. In one sweep of the whole courtyard area, I counted 32. They really stand out in the crowd with their clothing, make-up, and demeanor. There will never be a scientific way of counting prostitutes in a crowd, so you'll have to trust my judgment. I'm sure there were other girls already occupied or in cognito (like the modestly-dressed woman who approached me).

The cross-like shape made by the red chili peppers at the top of the rice offering
on the rock has nothing to do with Christianity or any kind of crucifix. It's a common way to decorate the offering, according to my friend. There are various other ways also.

Beyond this market-like area is the big courtyard that contains the rock enclosure.

My friend told me that this is her father.
He's a Catholic man who comes regularly to pray.

Berapa harga itu?

As most everyone else in my neighborhood laid down for sleep, I exited the kampung alley and made my way up the side street, looking left and right for a becak (basically a tricycle but backwards and between the front two wheels there's a seat to ride in). It seems that whenever I'm actually looking for one, they all mysteriously vanish. When I just want to walk somewhere, on the other hand, they're all over the place - each becak driver I pass asks where I'm going, if I need "transport", and, if it's late enough, whether I'm "cari cewek-cewek" (looking for girls). Passers by try to flag me down and sleeping becak drivers shoot up like freshly activated zombies to harass me from across the street. But this time? Nada.

I continued walking toward the main street, passing dimly lit food stalls and the odd idler. I paused briefly to watch a toad hop alongside a warung (temporary street stall), and as I looked up I saw a becak riding past and flagged it down. My intended destination, Via Via cafe, was about a half a mile up the street. I asked the driver how much the trip would cost. "Sepuluh" ("10 [thousand rupiah]"), he said. "Bagaimana dengan lima?" ("How about 5 [thousand rupiah]") I asked. He agreed, no contest. As we teetered along toward Via Via, my driver steadily pedaling through the cool night air, I began to contemplate the fairness the price I was about to pay for my ride. Five thousand Indonesian rupiah. That's about US $0.50. While I struggled with the potential ethical implications of the fare, the prices of American public transportation and Indonesian street food swirling through my head, we rolled right past Via Via. I realized it before we got too far, though, and stepped down from the becak, paying the man.

Just about everything is negotiable here - for better or worse. More and more, I'm impressed with how much the price of things can change with a little bargaining. But what is anything really worth, anyway?

... Fifty cents for a becak ride, two bucks for a long taxi ride, 75 cents for a simple meal at a street stall, two and a half dollars for combo number 5 at McDonald's, ten cents for parking assistance, six bucks for sex, three dollars for a two-hour Javanese massage (the real thing, as in an old lady coming to your house), one and a half dollars for a 3ft x 2ft batik painting (if you have the right connections), three bucks for a purse, a dollar-fifty for a beer, 30 cents for an hour of internet access...

The more I'm here the less sure I am of the answer to that question.

Around Jogja

Just some random pics, mostly taken around Jalan Malioboro [Malioboro st.], the busiest shopping district in Yogyakarta.

A look at the heavy foot traffic. Basically this is along an endless row of storefronts (right) which are faced by an endless row of street vendor stalls (left). Pandemonium ensues in the space between.

I had a really hard time explaining the word "cheesy" to someone the other day.

Obama is big here. I mean really big. "Janji-Janji Obama" means "Obama's Promises", and "Jangan Bunuh Obama!" means "Don't Kill Obama!".

Asian racism. See top center and bottom right. Indonesians love hating on Chinese people.

A little quintet played music while this monkey got on his bike and then got yanked back and forth by the chain on its neck. The crowd on the street quite enjoyed it.

It was really hard to explain to my friend why this is weird.

The ebonic equivalent of "money talks".

Brought to you by Mister Burger.

It hurts.

Possibly my favorite. I bought this shirt after seeing it.