Get a flavour of real Indonesia
Max Wooldridge discovers enchanting sights (and some awful smells) in Jakarta and Bali
WE experience t he best and worst of Jakarta in the space of a few yards. We’re in Kota Tua, also known as Old Town Batavia, one of Jakarta’s first neighbourhoods where the Dutch settled in the 16th Century.
It is stiflingly hot and humid, the kind of oppressive heat that soaks your shirt. We are gasping for cool air, not least when an overpowering stench breezes off a nearby canal.
We recall a Bob Hope anecdote when he landed at Hong Kong’s old airport, and asked what the smell was. ‘It’s sewage, Mr Hope.’
‘I know,’ the comedian replied. ‘But what have they done to it?’
We duck into a museum to escape the unheavenly smell. It’s the best move we make in our time in Indonesia’s thriving capital. Not only can we breathe again, but we’ve chanced upon the Shadow Puppet Museum, instantly thrust into one of the oldest Indonesian folk arts.
We meet Aldy Sanjaya, a puppetmaker who reveals the artistry so highly valued in Indonesian sian culture. In his workshop, raw materials such as dried buffalo skin are used in making the intricate designs.
He says the puppets were first used as an instrument of worship to ancestors, and then made to depict characters in great Asian epics such as The Story Of Rama (The Ramayana) and The Great Bharata (The Maha- bharata).
Later, we enjoy a traditional betawi-style lunch a safe distance from any y pongy canals. The waiterss are dressed in traditional al kopyah hats at Kunstkring g Paleis, a stylish restaurant nt on the site of an old post office building.
Re- energised after lunch, we return to Kota to walk around the old town with its beautiful remnants of Art Deco architecture.
There is a circus-like atmosphere in Merdeka Square with performance artists and pavement acts, dancing rock-star puppets and a man dressed as former Indonesia leader President Suharto, albeit coated in gold paint.
At the National Museum, built in 1862, we take off our shoes to protect the beautiful teak floors. A huge stone statue of a Sumatran king looms over everything. A visit to a former women’s prison nearby is sobering. Unfortunate inmates were kept up to their necks in water.
There are more puppets at the Jalan Surabaya market, a long line of dusty stalls. Vendors sell stone busts, dust-encrusted golf bags, even dusty 1970s vinyl records. Sadly there’s no Dusty Springfield. At some outlets it looks as though stallholders have dumped the contents of their garages.
Few tourists visit Indonesia for Jakarta alone, and we’re in this congested capital for only a day before we head t o Bali for a beach break.
Far more fragrant aromas greet us on Bali, Island of the Gods, and Indonesia’s largest tourist destination.
At our hotel, the Fairmont Sanur Beach on Bali’s south-east coast, we are met by an invigorating sea breeze. The air lingers with a blend of frangipani, ginger and a light, refreshing ocean spray. Sanur, an old fishing village, welcomed the first tourists to Bali in the 1960s.
This is my first time in Bali and there’s only a limited amount of time to do all the excursions we want.
We choose a holy purification ceremony, not any old day trip but spiritual cleansing. Heading inland, the views en route are incredible with lush ravines on undulating roads. Bali is a riot of colour, and tropical flowers like frangipani, bougainvillea and hibiscus create nature’s own colour chart. Located in a valley, the 10th Century Tirta Empul temple is one of the top tourist destinations in Bali. We don sarongs and join locals in a procession to purify ourselves and cleanse our bodies of bad karma.
It’s late afternoon by the time we return to the resort for our outdoor Balinese cooking class, which will form our evening meal.
Before too long we are engulfed by wonderful smells as chef prepares classics such as grilled minced fish satay with lemongrass skewers. Two passing joggers resemble Bisto Kids as they stop to locate the source of the delicious smells, wishing they could trade places with us.
But we wouldn’t swap with them for anything. Once again our noses have led us to the right place.