Central Java’s Karaoke

After a well appreciated rooftop breakfast at the EDU Hostel in Yogyakarta looking out over the entire city me and my new travel partner Bastiaan head out to Java’s hidden inland. Yogyakarta was amazing and one could easily stay for more days than the five days we already spent in the city, but the road was calling again. Our first stop was the Dieng Plateau, which took us five busses in a time of six hours and brought into the almost undiscovered lands of Java. Especially in low season you will not find too many western tourists here. The incidental traveller you do encounter has the same recognisable reaction when seeing another white face. One of annoyance and disappointment due to the fact that somebody else has been just as original which makes them in turn less original. I can say it, I am usually one of them. When we arrive in Dieng and make a choice between the many, but rather low quality, homestays in town we are done for the day. The previous morning we had climbed Mount Merapi, the most active out of 126 volcanos of Indonesia and that clearly still left some fatigue in our bodies. On TV we find a Rush Hour with subtitles in Bahasar Indonesia which turned out to be an interesting way to increase our vocabulary.
In the western world Sunday is “the holy day”. In the Muslim dominated countries that day is Friday and Dieng has a high density of mosques for its size. Five times a day the muezzin, the call of prayer, can be heard in any town, but the inhabitants of this little village are either very religious or love speaking and/or singing through microphones. Maybe it was because it was Friday but after the routine wake-up call at 5 o’clock the mic is opened once again at 7. When the builders across our balcony got started, the homestay owner’s kids start yelling and another prayer is released at 8 o’clock we make our way to breakfast feeling defeated by the elements.
Two scooters are waiting for us at the rental office and our first stop is the temple of Arjuna, the main attraction of Dieng which turns out to be

rather small and a disappointment. The scenery is nonetheless amazing and kind of reminds me of the Cerro Punta Region in Panama where the vegetables for the entire region are produced. The hills are lush, rather damp and covered with crops of all origin. Even the potatoes thrive here which says enough about the milder climate up in these hills. Probably the last thing one would expect is that here ,at 2.000 metres above sea level among the temples, you can get yourself photographed with no one less than the Teletubbies, Micky Mouse and Hello Kitty. For once the majority of the local tourists left us in peace which gave us the chance to explore the site in relative peace. Although I do think the Teletubbies were eyeballing us and I also think they might have been flirting with us, especially Tinky Winky…
The secondary attractions, that is how it was communicated to us, were the sulphur craters. Although these were far more impressive than the small temple complex. As you get closer to the crater park a former New Zealand traveller is thrown back into the stinky streets of Rotorua and the smelly White Island. The air is unmistakably filled with the odour of rotten eggs and the horizon is decorated with white clouds arising from the boiling mud pits. The park is definitely less organised and maintained than in Rotorua, however, it is also less visited. One does wonder what is being done with the entrance fees cause as far as was noticeable to us only a fence and three meter long bridge of wooden planks is the only thing that requires maintenance. On the bank of the main mud crater a few anglers have hung their rods with bate dangling in the crater. Flabbergasted we ask what kind of fish is being caught here and feel rather embarrassed when we are told they are boiling eggs. The geothermic activity is being closely monitored in the area as the combination of volcanic activities and earthquakes has often caused disasters in the past. CO2 plays a role in that. In 1979 an earthquake hit the village. The earthquake itself was destructive but was also survivable. The villagers did run for cover and away from the collapsing wooden buildings safely, so they thought, into the field. The cracks that were caused released CO2 gas and the villagers ran straight towards a crack. The odourless gas instantly killed 149 people, a massive hit for such a small farmer community.
The locals also benefit from the geothermic activity and are able to use its comforts. Bastiaan and I drove west in the direction of apparent hot springs. A simple ride quickly turned into a true quest partly because of the hidden location and partly because of the road that was barely manageable and sometimes ascended and descended in kamikaze-like ways. The locals did not have too many problems as they, as anywhere in Asia, effortless raced up and down the hills with insane cargo and often more than three people on one bike. A trail lead us between houses and almost through peoples gardens to an insane drop with and impossible surface. It was almost as if one would have a death wish. Once we got to the foot we saw the locals bathing in two concrete baths alongside a creek. They were certainly surprised to see the two white faces coming down the hill and maybe even more by their size when they got off their bikes. Obviously there were no locker rooms and getting dressed and undressed with an audience was an interesting experience, but wasn’t less hilarious both for them as for us. This was obviously there communal bath as the water white of all the soap that was used day in day out. Hot, is another way you can describe the water, but this didn’t keep people from doing from brushing their teeth in the soapy, sulphuric, steamy water. A true hidden beauty which is for once likely to stay hidden because of its impossible location.
That evening we head out for Banjanegara. In five days a football match will be played in the megacity Bandung and our goal is to visit the hidden back lands. There had been some discussion about what route to take, but when it became clear there was rafting was possible near Banjanegara, only two hours away from Dieng, we knew we would follow the “highway” 3 passing Wonosobo, Banjanegara, Purwokerto and Tasikmalaya. To be in time for the rafting the next morning we make our way in the evening to “Banja”. Having strolled the streets of the none-saying town we find the decent and well equipped Hotel Asra. Nothing fancy, but we did have an open air shower we never used and a normal toilet instead of to the squatter from the night before. Along the side of the road we eat some Mie Goreng and decide to pop into a pub for a Bintang to-go. The pub was called Diva Karaoke and wasn’t really a pub. It lay at the end of a very narrow alleyway. In a city like Jakarta I probably would have skipped it as it was pretty hidden, but in this country town we both didn’t feel threatened. I was aware of the presence of Karaoke Bars in Japan and Korea. Bars where you go in alone or with friends, meet and sing along with a girl that works in the bar. You are in a small room with a TV, you drink, you sing and if you want you don’t only have to sing with the girl. More explanation isn’t necessary. Indonesia apparently has the same kind of places, but as I had never been to one, nor was I aware of their existence in Indonesia, I was rather surprised. Bastiaan however was not aware of these kind of Karaoke Bars and to him it came as an even bigger surprise. I won’t forget the look on his face. The local girls, visitors and pimp were just as much surprised to see us. Maybe even more so when it turned out that the only thing we wanted was a Bintang. Sucking up the environment, dodgy, raw and of a different world, we decide to drink our beers in the waiting area. The pimp, as wrong as he may have been, left us alone and every time a few male customers came and talk with us he would urge them after a few minutes to go into one of the rooms with a girl. A strange experience, but not the last one. The next day in Purwokerto we treat ourselves on a super luxurious hotel for the price of €16,00 a night and make our way to the bar next door. Yes, this too was a Karaoke Bar. Once again it was dodgy, but we had a proper blast with the guys from the bar in broken Bahasar-English conversations. Only once we were interrupted by the presence of half-naked girls. Sadly enough the apparent buzzing club of the hotel was only closed on Sunday, exactly the night we were there. Really looked like fun, guess we’ll see if we can have some drinks without Karaoke in Bandung.