Just before the grounds, there was a portable fair. Three Ferris wheels, a midway, lots of kiddie rides. It was too early in the day to be operational (9 am), so it had that sad ghost town look that empty fairgrounds have.
One man looked like he was either doing morning prayers or his morning ablautions, in the middle of the bumper car (in case autocorrect interferes again, bump-er car, not upper car) floor.
When I got to an entrance, I double checked because there is one that is cheaper and more limited than the other. I was after the more expensive one. Keep going, the man waved.
Another gauntlet of market stalls and parked motorbikes. When I got to tour vans turning around in impossible spaces, I knew I was in the right place.
There was an extra 1,000 rupiah charge for a camera. The man taking my money reduced the fee when I told him I was not from Montreal or Ottawa. Still more than quoted in Lonely Planet, but reasonable. Do you want a guide? I've learned to always accept the offer of a guide. Yes please. He talks into a loudspeaker and waves me on my way.
There's a lot of waving in Jogjakarta.
The guide that came up to me told me she's 85 years old, and the 10th sultan lives in the palace. That's about all I understood. She was going mighty slowly, so I got out my phone to show her how much time I had. She said some more things I didn't understand and sent me on my way. (This was challenge number two of the day; number one was getting going in time even though I spent the night coughing; number x+1 was finding all they autocorrections in this posting. Holy Moley was rewritten as Holly Mosley).
Even with school groups, the Kraton was an oasis of quiet in the busy city of 3.3 million people. The grounds were spacious, treed and dotted with ornate architecture.
Inside the various museums were artifacts from the 1920s and 1930s. Models of cars, gloves, dishes. Most of the security guards looked as old as my discarded guide, and added to the olde time feel.
As I was ready to leave, a shadow puppet performance started. Although the gamelan accompaniment was soothing, I didn't want to miss my flight. I left.
The walk back was almost lonely. Only half a dozen lazy pedicab drivers asked where I was going. I call them lazy because they were sprawled in the seats of their cabs, barely lifting their heads as they called out.
Checking out was easy; the cab ride to the airport was slow. The front desk said it would be about 25,000 rupiah. It was 50,000. Not the worst thing in the world.
When I checked in, they asked if I had a laptop in my checked bag. That's not allowed. But I don't have room in my carry on. This went back and forth three or four times before they told me to carry on both. I liked that solution.
My boarding pass said “gate to our announced.” This was disconcerting to me, but I'm learning to go with the directions given, no matter how sparse or unusual they seem to me. Part of international travel is learning new things.
The sign quickly started flashing now boarding gate four. We walked in a haphazard crowd across the Tarmac until we got to our plane. The flight number was on the staircase!
In Jakarta for the connecting flight, the same routine happened. Outbound and arriving passengers mingled in the pedestrian friendly space on the Tarmac as they made their way to their individual points.
There was no way to make a connecting flight other than to leave the airport and re-enter. I felt the siren call of A&W (the first thing I saw leaving the airport) and downed a root beer and a mango chicken pocket. Not a Mama burger, but quite a bit tastier. The colour scheme and typefaces are all familiar. It's the food choices that are adapted.
Fries are not the conventional side. Most people have a rice packet that is wrapped up like a burger. And there is soup on the menu.
I've learned that I need to eat on travel days. On my last travel day, I wrote a blog post, and deleted it when it sounded too entitled and too cranky.
Next lesson, learn how to tell how many phone credits I have left. Apparently I bought 60 minutes of international calls or 8 gb of data and some unknown amount of local calls. I used up all my quota talking to Anita and Lion Air. By the time I called the hotel to confirm tonight and get a ride from the airport, I had nothing left in terms of phone service. The reason I was phoning was they weren't replying to my online inquiry. I get in at 9:15 pm. I hope I have somewhere to stay.
PS: my flight was delayed by two hours, but there was someone at the airport to meet me! Hurray!
Keep smiling!
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