Browsing the popular eateries in Yogyakarta
It's just after sunset in the back streets of Yogyakarta. There are a dozen or so bule standing about awkwardly in front of a small, dark building. Various taxis and motorbikes deliver them from the labyrinth of adjoining side streets.
They are meeting in front of Milas restaurant in the Prawirotaman area for dinner. Milas is where your hungry bohemian, culturally sensitive travellers die and go to heaven, but are then reincarnated because that's way hipper.
It is a very bamboo vegetarian eatery, which uses locally grown organic produce. And the kicker: Profits go to projects which aim to help local street kids. But tonight there's a sign on the door. It says that in 2009 they are closed, for tonight only. "The one night of the year we come," says a companion.
Luckily in Yogyakarta there are plenty of dining opportunities, of various qualities, usually within walking distance of wherever you may find yourself in the city. Not far from Milas we walk to Via Via, an interesting concept for a restaurant.
Owned by some enterprising Belgian travellers, it runs tours, courses and holds art exhibitions. It also offers a world menu as well as a specialised Indonesian selection, which is different for each day of the week. Tonight, tong seng is on the menu and my plate. A subtle mix of lamb, cabbage, spices and rice, it is highly recommended.
We are here because it is one of our companion's birthdays. He decided that a restaurant was the best way to celebrate, after an incident on his birthday last year while staying in a village in Sumatra.
Not knowing anyone, he decided to throw himself a party, not letting a lack of company stop him from singing, dancing and being stupidly happy. Unknown to him at the time, his birthday also happened to be the day Soeharto died.
"I was driven out by the local Soeharto supporters, who didn't understand why I was celebrating, that's why I'm in Yogya now," he jokes.
For lunch the next day we stop by at FM caf* on Jl Sosrowijayan, a happening street off the main road, Jl Malioboro. The caf* is sleepy during the day and we are the only customers. The menu includes lots of Western dishes.
"Let's see how they do pizza," a friend says.
So we all order a small pizza each. Quite some time later the waiter brings out three of our pizzas. Knowing that in Indonesia food for groups arriving at the same time is rare, we tuck in, but the girls at the table are still waiting by the time we finish.
They cancel their pizzas, which are soft and doughy anyway. My friend later insists that she was getting served last because she was a woman. Maybe, I say, could've been a jam in the kitchen, though. She doesn't find it funny.
Still hungry, the girls go looking for food only to hit the jackpot. Wandering the streets is a woman serving satay from atop her head. The girls place their order. The woman, never faltering, reaches up to the top of her head and brings down the food - the only way to serve to satay.
The next night we decide to go and see some reggae at Bintang Cafe. With little time to eat, we decide to go to a small food stall on the way to the bar. Like in other parts of Indonesia, a good bowl of fried noodles from a stall is a gamble.
While some make the dish themselves, many others, this one included, make it from the packets you find in supermarkets. Yogyakarta may be the cultural capital of Indonesia, but the reach of mass-produced packet food is simply too great. Luckily when we arrive at Bintang Caf*, the crowd is young and the reggae is perfect. Atmosphere you can only find in Yogyakarta, not in a packet.
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