Indonesia > To the Kraton in Yogyakarta

Several becak drivers with their cycle rickshaws had gathered in front of the hotel. As I approach, an elderly man waves me over, indicating that I should choose his becak. He introduces himself as Johnny. I hope he won’t have trouble with his heavy load. He steers the becak onto the road toward the Kraton, the Sultan’s palace. I enjoy the street scene. The streets are busy, with numerous scooters passing me on both sides. Johnny pays them little mind and guides the cycle rickshaw smoothly through the traffic. Along the way, he tells me in broken English that he has seven children—three girls and four boys. When we arrive at the Kraton, I get out.

Indonesia - By bicycle taxi through Yogya

The Kraton, fully named Kraton Ngayogyakarta Hadriningrat, was built between 1756 and 1790 by Sultan Hamengku Buwono I. At the entrance, I am met by a Dutch-speaking guide. I have to get used to his accent. As he leads me through the gate into the inner grounds, he constantly makes puns, switching between the Kraton’s collection and Dutch. The current, tenth Sultan, Hamengku Buwono X, still lives in the complex, although his power is purely symbolic. The ninth Sultan had close ties with the Netherlands. He studied in Leiden and socialized frequently with the then-Queen Juliana, who, due to his difficult name, was allowed to call him “Henkie.” I view the golden reception hall and the rooms with gifts and paintings. The current Sultan has five daughters and therefore no direct heir. Most likely, his brother will become the next Sultan after his death. The first Sultan also had a water palace built near the Kraton, with separate baths for men and women. From a tower, the Sultan could observe his harem and possibly select a favorite. Near the water palace lies the underground mosque. I descend the stairs. It takes a moment to adjust to the darkness after the bright sunlight. Underground, there is a circular room with an open staircase in the center leading to a second floor.

Indonesia - The reception hall in the Kraton

It is a unique location, though I do not immediately recognize it as an Islamic prayer house. Outside again, Johnny is waiting with my becak. He drives me to the bird market. The bird market used to be within the Kraton walls, but now it is slightly south in a park. In numerous stalls, animals are crowded into cages. The birds, in particular, have very little room to move. I am amazed at the colored chicks—they are sprayed purple, green, and yellow. I cannot see the point. Further along, I see cats, dogs, owls, reptiles, and fish. It is a remarkable collection in this open-air animal market. At the becak, I jokingly ask Johnny, “Shall I drive?” “Not here,” he says. “Later, later. It’s too busy here.” A little further on, he stops. “Do you want to try?” Of course. I hop onto the becak and drive through the city in my little cart with Johnny. Passing boys on scooters cheer me on. For safety, I steer well around parked cars—I do not want to imagine causing damage. After a few minutes, I hand the steering back to Johnny. He drives me to a batik workshop. Here, batik cloths are made with meticulous precision. By applying wax to the fabric before dyeing, some areas remain untouched. This process is repeated for each color. After each round, the wax is washed off in large containers. A true labor of patience. On the way back to the hotel, Johnny tells me he is 70 years old. Born in 1945, he still remembers the Japanese occupation. He recalls begging the Japanese for food. He also proudly tells me that two of his daughters now study and live in America and sometimes send him money. At the hotel, I pay for the ride and give him a tip.