As I bid farewell to Yogyakarta today, I aimed to savor one last ride on my moped by visiting an observation point for Gunung Merapi. Rising at 4:30 am, I prepared myself, plugged in my headphones, and cruised towards the Borobudur temple once more. Since my arrival three days ago, I had become familiar with the city. Although every street in Yogyakarta seemed similar, I now felt oriented, recognizing the distinct signs of my street and surroundings.
Lost near Gunung Merapi
Upon reaching a point 40 kilometers north of Yogyakarta, I made a right turn towards Gunung Merapi, eager to capture a scenic view before leaving the city. Driving eastward for an hour, I eventually stumbled upon a sign indicating a viewing platform for Gunung Merapi 10 kilometers ahead. Opting for the right turn at the next intersection, as the road conditions seemed more favorable—being asphalted, unlike the dirt road on the left—I soon realized I had taken a wrong turn.
I pressed on for about 10 or perhaps 15 kilometers, reaching Gunung Merapi’s trail only to realize I had chosen the incorrect route. It wasn’t the destination I had in mind. Opting to make the most of the situation, I decided to capture some pictures of both Gunung Merapi and the neighboring volcano, Gunung Merbabu.
Retracing my route to the main road where I made the earlier wrong turn, I resumed my journey and eventually spotted the correct signs. However, fifteen minutes later, the roads took a turn for the worse—perhaps the most challenging terrain I had encountered. In these sections, my speed dropped to a mere 5 kilometers per hour, and at times, I had to use my feet for added balance. Navigating through these precarious stretches, I held onto the hope that my motorcycle would remain in good condition afterward—I certainly didn’t want to risk being stranded in the middle of nowhere. Having already spent two hours seeking Gunung Merapi’s outlook, I had to keep in mind the time constraints of returning the moped as per the rental terms.
Viewing Platforms
Feeling disheartened after another 15 minutes of driving, I contemplated giving up on Gunung Merapi and heading back to Yogyakarta. While taking some last-minute pictures, a local approached and inquired about my presence in the area. I explained my quest for the viewing platform, and he asked me to specify which one I was looking for. Confused, I responded, “The viewing platform, to see the mountain.” The man nodded and asked, “So which one are you looking for?”
The man enlightened me, revealing there were around five platforms for Gunung Merapi in close proximity and over fifty in the broader area. He pointed out that the nearest one was just ahead; if I continued on this road for 2 more kilometers, I would reach the platform for Gunung Merapi. I was surprised by the information and expressed my gratitude. True to his guidance, two kilometers later, I arrived at a platform that I would have overlooked without his help. Despite not being the specific platform I sought, I had no option but to explore it, given the time constraints.
Exploring the Gunung Merapi’s outlook platform, I strolled, took some pictures, and departed after fifteen minutes. Anticipating a two-hour journey back to the highway, I was pleasantly surprised to find an alternative route, reducing the return time to just 20 minutes. From that point, it was only an hour’s drive back to the hotel.
Leaving Tropis Homestay
I made it back on schedule, returned the moped, and collected the last batch of laundry from the shop where I dropped it off yesterday evening. The gracious lady who owned Tropis Homestay kindly suggested preparing breakfast. Surprised, I inquired if it was okay at that hour. To my delight, it posed no issue, and she whipped up another delightful meal for me— a vegetable omelet, bread with jam, and a plate of fruit. Oh, how I would miss this place!
After packing my belongings and settling the extra day’s payment, I requested the accommodation’s host to arrange a cab and inquired about the standard fare to the train station from Jalan Prawirotaman. She mentioned it typically ranged from 20,000 IDR to 25,000 IDR. When the cab arrived, the driver eagerly offered to handle my bag. Curious about the fare, I initiated the bargaining process. The initial quote was 50,000 IDR, and I began negotiating starting at 15,000 IDR. Despite some resistance, we eventually settled on 25,000 IDR, though the driver expressed dissatisfaction.
The Train Station in Yogyakarta
I reached the train station punctually and purchased a ticket for 10,000 IDR. The objective was to journey to Solo and reunite with Danny, a friend I had encountered on my second day in Indonesia, during a tranquil visit to the picturesque Pulau Weh or Sabang Island.
Despite having to wait for an hour, I didn’t mind. I located a Wi-Fi spot and informed Danny about my train schedule via WhatsApp. It was fascinating to observe the disparities between train stations in Indonesia and the Netherlands. Unlike in my country (and probably any Western country), where crossing platforms via the rails isn’t permitted for safety reasons, here it was allowed, showcasing a trade-off between convenience and safety.
At approximately 2:40 pm, my train was scheduled to depart, and I secured a seat promptly. I refrained from capturing any interior photos, as I didn’t want to inadvertently offend anyone by photographing them.
Prejudiced, I anticipated the trains to be unclean, but the one I boarded was surprisingly well-maintained. Although the seats were slightly uncomfortable, it didn’t bother me much as this was a brief journey. I paid less than one euro for an hour-long train ride to Solo, a stark contrast to what I would have paid—eight times more—in the Netherlands for a similar distance.
After spending 10 minutes inside the train, a woman seated beside me informed me that I should move as I was in the women’s compartment, pointing at a sign. I chuckled and apologized to her. Subsequently, I exited the compartment, greeted by smiles from 10 women. I eventually found my way to the correct compartment and took a seat. Five minutes later, the train departed, and an hour later, we reached Solo.
Solo Paragon
Exiting the train station, I promptly declined offers from around 30 taxi and becak drivers. Soon after, I located Danny. I had initially expected to take public transport to Danny’s house, but he had a pleasant surprise in store—a car with a private driver. As we left the train station, Danny revealed that I would be staying at a hotel. His family had a reserved room for family guests, and now I was one of them. The next surprise awaited as Danny pointed towards a towering 30-story building in the distance, saying, ‘Look, there’s your hotel!’ I had anticipated a regular hotel, but this exceeded my expectations. The astonishment grew when we arrived at the destination—a four-star hotel named Solo Paragon.
My allocated room was situated on the 15th floor, offering a delightful view of the city and the inviting swimming pool. Remarkably clean and equipped with various amenities, the room featured complimentary Wi-Fi, a television with a plethora of movie channels, a well-stocked refrigerator, complimentary toiletries, efficient air conditioning, and a spacious king-size bed. Although I was unaware of the cost, the quality of the room surpassed expectations.
Right then and there, I repeatedly insisted to Danny—twenty times at least—that he shouldn’t cover the expenses, emphasizing my willingness to pay for it myself. Despite my insistence, he remained steadfast, reminding me that I was his guest, and the accommodation was already covered by his family. Eventually, I relented. Danny departed, promising to return at 7 pm, and advised me to take some rest. As I looked out of the window, I found myself still in awe of this incredible surprise—a true testament to what an amazing friend Danny was.
Solo Paragon Mall
By 7 pm, Danny returned, and initially, we took a brief stroll through the mall connected to Solo Paragon. Subsequently, we ventured out on Danny’s moped, and it was amusing to witness the designated moped parking area in front of the mall, complete with a tiny automatic barrier gate for mopeds. Our next stop was the train station, where I needed to secure a ticket in advance. I drew a number and patiently waited my turn, reminiscent of the experience of shopping at a local butchery back home. Eventually, I managed to arrange a ticket for a more comfortable class for the journey scheduled for tomorrow night.
Local Food
Time to savor some local cuisine. Danny, well-versed in good dining spots, suggested trying various new dishes. After a 15-minute ride, we reached a warung with a fantastic atmosphere. A local Indonesian, sporting dyed blonde hair, warmly greeted me, and I reciprocated the greeting. Danny mentioned he was a friend of his father. As we engaged in conversation, the man played some music. Curious, I requested an English song, and he delighted us by playing an Elvis tune. The entire venue lit up with smiles, as everyone took an interest in the lively scene at our table. It felt as if, once again, I was in the spotlight and enjoying a moment of fame.
Arriving at the place, I felt fantastic, and shortly after, Danny and I perused the menu. “What are you in the mood for?” Danny inquired. “I’m not sure. How about you order your favorite dish?” I suggested. “You want the best dish in this restaurant? It’s a bit pricey, but absolutely delicious,” Danny said with a smile. “Absolutely, let’s go ahead and order it,” I replied.
A Local Delicacy
We opted for number six (bestik dadar lidah) on the menu, and Danny explained that it was a delightful rice dish with beef. He assured me that I would enjoy it, and indeed, it turned out to be my favorite among all the dishes I’ve tried on this journey so far! The dish featured a delectable combination of vegetables and beef, generously coated in a flavorful gravy sauce. Served with a side of rice, I savored each bite.
As I relished the meal for about five minutes, Danny decided to enlighten me about what I was actually consuming. “Well, this is beef meat, but it’s not beef, actually—it’s cow’s tongue,” he revealed. I looked at him and chuckled. “Seriously, why are you spoiling my appetite?” I responded. “Danny, next time, let me just eat it and tell me afterward. Ignorance is bliss.” We shared a laugh, and he agreed to my request. I proceeded to finish the dish, with my Western mindset contemplating the cow’s tongue. While it’s considered a delicacy in the Netherlands, I had never eaten organ meat before. It did slightly influence my perception, but overall, the dish was delightful, and I polished off my meal.
Pancake Dish at Chinatown
Later, we headed to Chinatown and purchased a pancake-like dish that was both sweet and satisfying. Following that, Danny gave me a tour of his family home—a spacious bamboo structure adorned with antique items, serving as a gathering place for Danny and his family. It had a charming ambiance, and I could easily envision a comfortable stay here. Initially, I mistook it for Danny’s residence, but after spending 15 minutes there, we eventually departed.
Danny accompanied me back to the Paragon hotel, bidding me goodnight. He informed me that he would pick me up at 1 pm the following day as he had morning commitments at the mosque. Around 10 pm, I returned to my hotel. During the evening, I worked on some blog posts and watched a movie called Zombieland, which I found quite enjoyable. I’m confident my friends back home would love it too. Eventually, at 1 am, I retired to my incredible king-size bed for a good night’s sleep.
