The first time I stepped foot in Asia

Hi there,

I think I’m making a comeback.

I really miss writing and sharing my experiences, thoughts, and reflections with you.

This past week, I’ve been going back to old travel stories and unpublished drafts. It’s incredibly entertaining to read what I was doing and thinking back then - probably because my life now looks very different.

So I’ve decided to take you with me. I’ll be sharing both past and present stories, drafts, and reflections.

This might change later, but we’ll see how it goes.

I’ll start by telling you about the very beginning of my solo journey - the first time I stepped foot in Asia. How does that sound?

I didn’t travel much growing up - let alone travelling solo.

In 2022, while finishing my master’s in the Netherlands, I decided I wanted to change that. So I bought a flight to Jakarta, Indonesia.

Fast forward to September 20th: I landed in Jakarta late at night. I remember immediately feeling the warmth and heaviness of the air as I got out of the airport.

I got a Grab car (Grab is the Uber of Southeast Asia) to the hostel I’d booked for that night, close to the airport. One man was still awake when I arrived. He didn’t speak any English, so he just pointed me toward the room. It was a dorm with about twelve capsule beds.

There was a small bathroom next to it in which I managed to take a quick shower, even though I’m pretty sure it was not a shower room.

I got a few hours of sleep, my sweater covering the pillow, and got up around 5 AM. Partly due to jet lag, and partly because I just wasn’t used to sleeping in a hostel.

As I got outside, the hostel staff asked if I wanted coffee.

Between gestures and Google Translate, I managed to explain that I wanted to get to Yogyakarta that day. They told me there was only one train making the journey, leaving at 6:30 AM, and the station was more than half an hour away by motorbike.

I was meant to get a Grab car because of my “luggage” (a small backpack and a gigantic one), but they warned me it would take over an hour if I did.

So there I was, on my first Grab bike, at 5:30 in the morning, carrying 15kg on my back.

The first 15 minutes were fascinating - Jakarta is quite peculiar, and even more so if it’s the first Asian city you visit. The city is crowded and polluted, with old buildings packed closely together and chaotic traffic, amplified by the constant honking. A strong and characteristic smell, that I can’t really describe, permeates the air.

Then my lower back started to hurt.

The rest of the drive was a struggle to stay balanced. With every abrupt brake and sudden acceleration, I had to brace my core, focusing all my energy on keeping the weight of my backpack from throwing me backward.

I finally got to the station, bought the ticket, and made it to the train just on time.

I had an 8-hour train ride ahead. Little did I know, I was in for a treat.

The views were mesmerizing and unlike anything I had ever seen. The landscapes were a mix of lush greenery and small, modest villages. I saw infinite rice fields and plantations, people wearing rice hats, palm trees, running rivers, mosques, schools, colourful wooden houses, children playing, clothes hanging, sheep, kites, scooters lined up, and a bunch of other things I couldn’t quite comprehend.

Halfway through, I decided I was too glued to the screen of my new Kobo and decided to listen to a podcast instead, so that I could keep looking through the window. I didn’t allow myself to fall asleep for the entire 8 hours because I didn’t want to miss out on the view.

I made it to Yogyakarta. Jogja, for short.

This time, on the drive to the hostel, I knew better than to carry my heavy backpack. I asked my Grab driver to put it between his legs so that I could carry the smaller one. To my surprise, he did.

Jogja is messy, raw, and authentic.

I distinctly remember trying to cross the road for the first time.

I needed to get to an ATM, which was on the other side. I stood there, frozen, as hundreds of scooters sped past in both directions. There was a man behind me watching the whole thing, both amused and impatient.

At one point, he got tired of my hesitation, marched into the middle of the street with his hand out to stop the motorbikes, for yours truly to cross.

I was in Jogja for about a week.

I visited a few main attractions, like the Prambanan temple and Taman Sari (the water castle), but mostly, I just wandered around - often the only foreigner in sight. Completely fascinated by how different it all was from anything I had ever known.

I came to love scooter drives, learned to cross the road, walked a lot, ate in Warungs, got on slow local buses for 20 cents, and observed. I watched. A lot.

After a couple of days, I got the courage to start taking photos. I didn’t want to seem too out of place or to be invasive, but at the same time, I really wanted to take a bit of Jogja with me.

On the day I left Jogja, I wrote this on my iPhone notes:

I got used to the Indonesian humble lifestyle, messy streets, and strong smells. To people always smiling, happy, content with the simple life they live.

This was the first photo I took. I was walking around the outskirts of a temple and got lost in a small village. While I was snapping pictures of the messy view, this man picked up his granddaughter and waved at the camera.

It made me want to take more photos of people.

I remember feeling so happy while I was there. A pure state of happiness, brought on by nothing more than the people around me and the fascination of my surroundings.

That’s all from me today.

I hope you enjoyed visiting Java.

Speak soon x
Rosa

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