At 9:30 am, I woke up and had breakfast by the swimming pool. Unexpectedly, I decided to visit the Taman Sari Water Castle today instead of the original plan to visit the Kraton, the Sultan’s palace. The homestay was deserted this morning. Although I didn’t meet any new people, I didn’t mind at all; I loved being here. I had a chat with the husband of the lady who received me yesterday. The couple had lived in the US for a few years and had traveled extensively.
Journey to the Kraton
After breakfast, I prepared myself and retrieved my moped from the shop at the end of the street. I instantly enjoyed the bustling traffic. Initially, I had to adapt, but after an hour, I learned to drive like the locals. I admired how everyone in traffic looked out for each other. When someone was behind me, they would honk gently to signal they were overtaking. My first destination was the Kraton. I reached it after 15 minutes. The roads in Yogyakarta all seemed similar, but finding the Kraton was straightforward. It is the palace of the sultan.
After parking my moped, I strolled around, and several becak drivers approached me, inquiring about my destination. I thanked them for their services and continued walking. A man approached me and informed me that the Kraton was closed for the day. Instead, he suggested visiting the Water Castle. Naively, I believed him and asked for directions. The friendly guy offered to show me the way and led me through a few alleys to a local batik shop.
My guide waited outside as the shop owner immediately welcomed me and began explaining: The sultan of Yogyakarta funded this shop, and all the earnings contributed to a charity fund. The owner elaborated on the Batik technique. Concluding his narrative, he presented various pieces, quoted their prices, and encouraged me to make a purchase. However, I remained indifferent. It dawned on me that my guide had brought me here to earn some money. While some art pieces were appealing, their sizes were impractical for shipping and would cost me a fortune. Using a pretext, I conveyed to the man that I was a financially struggling student and couldn’t afford to make a purchase.
The Taman Sari Water Castle
After departing from the disappointed shop owner, I faced my guide waiting outside. His expression shifted as he observed my departure without a purchase. “Don’t you want to explore the shop a bit more?” he inquired. “No, I’m good. I appreciate the art, but unfortunately, I don’t have the funds for it,” I responded with a friendly smile. I then asked him to guide me to the Water Castle. Believing he would lead the way, he simply directed me, saying, “Go straight, turn right, and walk to the end of the road.” That was the end of my guide’s assistance, leaving me a bit bewildered as I followed his directions and reached the Water Castle.
The Water Castle, Taman Sari, served as an underground retreat for the sultan, featuring an artificial lake with an intricate tunnel system connecting various structures within and outside the lake. Taman Sari had diverse purposes, including serving as a relaxation space, a meditation area, a defense zone, and a hiding place. This architectural marvel was just a fraction of the larger sultan’s palace.
Sumur Gumuling
A man named Johan approached me, introducing himself and mentioning his Dutch family connections. We engaged in conversation, and when he offered to show me around, I inquired if it was a free tour. “Of course, it’s free,” he responded, though he should’ve added ‘for now’ or something similar. These so-called guides can be quite sneaky. He guided me to Sumur Gumuling, an underground mosque, the entrance cleverly concealed within the village. As we entered the tunnel, Johan commenced his storytelling.
Within the dome, women would pray on the lower part, while men occupied the first level. The adhan (Islamic prayer call) would resonate from the middle of the stairs, taking advantage of the dome’s design, which allowed the sound to echo through the open roof.
The Umbul Pasiraman Bathing Complex
Following the exploration of Sumur Gumuling, Johan led me to the Sultan’s bathing complex. We accessed the Taman Sari through the eastern gate, Gedhong Gapura Panggung.
The sultan owned a huge bathing complex named, the Umbul Pasiraman, also known as Umbul Binangun or Umbul Winangun. The complex includes three swimming pools. The first pool was the dwelling of the concubines (picture 4). The sultan had about 50 concubines and they would all present themselves for him at this pool. The sultan would relax inside his private pool behind the tower (picture 5).
When seeking companionship, he would ascend his tower and drop a flower to one of his concubines. The one who caught the flower had the privilege to join him. She would prepare in the northernmost building, which served as a resting place and changing room for the concubines and the sultan’s daughters. After the chosen concubine prepared in the changing room, she proceeded to join the Sultan. Subsequently, the sultan and the selected concubine would engage in intimate activities, either in the private pool or the Sultan’s bedroom.
I admired the 18th-century bed of the sultan for its innovation. As seen in the picture, three furnaces were situated beneath the sultan’s bedstead. On chilly days, they would ignite the furnaces to warm up his bed. This man truly redefined the concept of a ‘hot date’!
During my visit, I didn’t fully grasp Johan’s narrative. The residences and shops of ‘Kampoen Taman’ masked the structures of the Taman Sari. Yes, there was a man-made lake with tunnels linking various spots, but what did it really look like?
Tourist Traps
After the tour of the bathing complex, we exited the temple area, and Johan directed me to a batik shop. Inside, I captured some images of the artisans at work. Subsequently, Johan took me to his own residence (shop) with the intention of making a sale. He aimed to sell me batik items, but I mentioned that everything was too expensive. Eventually, I settled for two postcards, each priced at 15,000 IDR (30k total). Despite finding the cost still high (I negotiated from an initial price of 50,000 each), I handed over the money. He had guided me for almost an hour without asking for anything in return. Though he appeared disappointed, I took it as a cue to depart. I hoped he would appreciate that I made a purchase, even if it was modest.
I returned to my moped in the parking lot, and a guy noticed me with my two postcards. He informed me that the batik around the Kraton was expensive and of poor quality. Instead, he suggested visiting an art gallery on Jalan Malioboro where an exhibition by students was concluding that day. They were showcasing some beautiful and rare pieces of art. I asked for directions, and he pointed them out on my map. Opting to relax at my hotel first, I planned to head to the gallery before it closed around 4 pm. It took me a while to find my way back to the hotel. After a break at the hotel, I went for an afternoon ride and eventually arrived at Malioboro street.
I inquired a man about the gallery’s location, and he pointed across the street. Subsequently, he led me until I located the shop, after which he disappeared.
The Art Gallery Tourist Trap at Jalan Malioboro
I ascended the stairs to the shop and entered the room. One of the students with limited English proficiency tried to explain something to me. Within five minutes, his teacher arrived, and the student left me. We sat down and engaged in a pleasant conversation. This man appeared genuinely sincere and exceptionally friendly. The teacher shared that he had visited Holland for one of his exhibitions and had traveled all over the world for similar events. I became quite impressed.
Afterward, I was served a delightful mint tea. The teacher elucidated the various types of batik and shared information about his students. It was a school that embraced various forms of art, with a particular focus on batik. Once I finished my tea, the man inquired about my preferred pieces. As I strolled around the room, vibrant colorful artworks surrounded me, making it challenging to decide where to direct my attention. I found myself appreciating every piece. Regrettably, photography was not permitted.
The man began quoting prices for the artworks I admired, and I couldn’t help but feel a sense of déjà vu. Frustrated with my own gullibility, I explained that I was a student with limited funds. To my surprise, he offered a 25% student discount for one of the paintings I favored. The specific piece was priced at 1.200.000 IDR, a cost determined not by the size of the artwork but by the number of hours invested in its creation.
I expressed my gratitude to the man and explained that my budget was limited to 300,000 IDR. In response, he directed me to a selection of smaller, less appealing pieces tucked away. However, none of them appealed to me, and I became resolute in not making another purchase, considering my previous encounter with the postcards. After thanking the man, I left the shop. As I walked back to my moped, I couldn’t help but chuckle, reflecting on the abrupt shift in the conversation from friendly chatter to a sales pitch. It didn’t feel right to make a purchase.
In the evening, upon returning to the hotel, I conducted some online research. I stumbled upon a sentence that echoed the information I received today: ‘there is an art gallery only on Monday and Tuesday and ends at 4 pm.’ The internet also carried a warning: ‘Be aware of the gallery scams around Malioboro.’ I chuckled, feeling relieved that I trusted my instincts not to make a purchase. Eventually, I engaged in some planning for the next day and set my alarm for 4:30 am.
