6:15am alarm goes off, wake up, shower, eat breakfast, and its off to the train station we go.
Tickets already in hand, we bypassed the lines and went straight to the boarding area. We arrived at our platform about 20 minutes early and in that time we asked three people which platform the train would come to, walked down to the wrong end of the platform and was led back to where we started, and were given the wrong platform number entirely. Luckily one man seemed to know that we had no clue what was going on and was able to take us to the right spot.
The train ride was long and uneventful. I spent the time watching two movies, sleeping, and looking out at the passing scenery. Unfortunately, my camera is not the best so the most of the photos didn’t turn out that well. Melanie went to the washroom at one point and came back to inform me that it was a hole in the train and you could see the tracks through it.
Tickets already in hand, we bypassed the lines and went straight to the boarding area. We arrived at our platform about 20 minutes early and in that time we asked three people which platform the train would come to, walked down to the wrong end of the platform and was led back to where we started, and were given the wrong platform number entirely. Luckily one man seemed to know that we had no clue what was going on and was able to take us to the right spot.
The train ride was long and uneventful. I spent the time watching two movies, sleeping, and looking out at the passing scenery. Unfortunately, my camera is not the best so the most of the photos didn’t turn out that well. Melanie went to the washroom at one point and came back to inform me that it was a hole in the train and you could see the tracks through it.
Our tickets read that we would arrive in Yogyakarta around 3:30pm, they were wrong. The train didn’t pull into the station until just after 4:00pm. We walked out of the train station and onto Yogyakarta’s main street, Malioboro. We had planned on catching a taxi to the Hotel To Tugu, where we would meet the shuttle to the hotel we were actually staying at but there did not appear to be many taxis around, so we decided to walk down the road further until we came across one. We started off walking with some school kids who were practicing their English on us and eventually we came across a Tourist Services tent and started asking about how to find this hotel. Turns out that Hotel To Tugu no longer exists. We tried to explain that we had booked a room at the Yogyakarta Hostel and that the shuttle went to Hotel To Tugu at 5:00pm to take people out there. I think they all thought we had been swindled and had booked a room at the non-existent Hotel To Tugu. There was a man there who spoke fairly good English and he told us he would take us to someone who spoke English very well and was actually an art teacher who had worked in Ontario for a time. We followed him a little ways down Malioboro to a side street and down a little further to a batik art shop.
Now before we left home we were told by multiple people to trust out instincts and at this point mine weren't screaming "Danger Will Robinson", and it didn't appear Mel's were either.
He took us inside to a room that had a bench, table, and batik art all over the walls and told us to wait while he called his “master”. Another man brought us some Jasmine tea while we waited, I sipped it slowly just in case this was some kind of setup and it was spiked. A few minutes later the “master” showed up. His name was Haru and he told us that he was an art teacher who also ran the exhibition we were currently sitting in. We explained to him what we were looking for and he said he would help us but first he wanted to show us proper batik. He went on to explain to us the difference between real batik and stamped batik and offered us a special price. We were in the shop for probably over an hour most of that time with his trying to sell us something, even though he said he did not want to pressure us to buy. I told him that we were tired and wanted to go to our hotel but maybe we would come back the next day to take a look and see if we wanted something. He said that this was the last day the exhibition would be in Yogyakarta and that it was moving to Sumatra so if we wanted to buy it would have to be now. Unfortunately for him last chance sales don't appeal to me or Mel. The plus side to this detour was that we learned about proper batik and how to tell a fake, so thats a bonus.
The "help" he gave us was directions to the KFC that we passed on the way in to get wifi. Mel was able to get on the internet and get the proper address for out hostel and directions on how to get there. After walking back to where we started, the train station, we were able to get a taxi. The ride took us 30-45 minutes and it was a windy road, which did not help my nausea. The driver stopped a couple of times for directions but we arrived at the hostel, actually called Fuji Villas, safe and sound but tired.
The room had a queen bed with a canopy, en-suite bathroom, TV and DVD selection, and smelt like teak and mothballs. Unfortunately we didn’t get any photos of the Fuji Villas but you can look it up online to get the idea. I had another small bout of homesickness before falling asleep. I think the stress from the day, feeling sick constantly, and just having time to think, attributed to it.
Now before we left home we were told by multiple people to trust out instincts and at this point mine weren't screaming "Danger Will Robinson", and it didn't appear Mel's were either.
He took us inside to a room that had a bench, table, and batik art all over the walls and told us to wait while he called his “master”. Another man brought us some Jasmine tea while we waited, I sipped it slowly just in case this was some kind of setup and it was spiked. A few minutes later the “master” showed up. His name was Haru and he told us that he was an art teacher who also ran the exhibition we were currently sitting in. We explained to him what we were looking for and he said he would help us but first he wanted to show us proper batik. He went on to explain to us the difference between real batik and stamped batik and offered us a special price. We were in the shop for probably over an hour most of that time with his trying to sell us something, even though he said he did not want to pressure us to buy. I told him that we were tired and wanted to go to our hotel but maybe we would come back the next day to take a look and see if we wanted something. He said that this was the last day the exhibition would be in Yogyakarta and that it was moving to Sumatra so if we wanted to buy it would have to be now. Unfortunately for him last chance sales don't appeal to me or Mel. The plus side to this detour was that we learned about proper batik and how to tell a fake, so thats a bonus.
The "help" he gave us was directions to the KFC that we passed on the way in to get wifi. Mel was able to get on the internet and get the proper address for out hostel and directions on how to get there. After walking back to where we started, the train station, we were able to get a taxi. The ride took us 30-45 minutes and it was a windy road, which did not help my nausea. The driver stopped a couple of times for directions but we arrived at the hostel, actually called Fuji Villas, safe and sound but tired.
The room had a queen bed with a canopy, en-suite bathroom, TV and DVD selection, and smelt like teak and mothballs. Unfortunately we didn’t get any photos of the Fuji Villas but you can look it up online to get the idea. I had another small bout of homesickness before falling asleep. I think the stress from the day, feeling sick constantly, and just having time to think, attributed to it.
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