Posted by Alun Evans on October 29, 2009 at 9:30pm
I must admit that it has been a long time since I last visited the Javanese highland city of Malang, 11 years to the day to be exact. My recollections of the place were pretty blurred. I spent an evening there in transit while traveling from Bali to Yogyakarta. Over the last decade I have been pretty much everywhere else in Indonesia, but never back to Malang.A few weeks back one of my big corporate clients ordered a 2 group machine for their new cafe in the University sector of the city. On a whim I decided to go myself and do the installation rather than send one of my technicians from Jakarta.As is always the case in Indonesia, the adventure begins when you step outside your door- rather than when you arrive at the destination. This trip was no exception. The Air conditioning at Jakarta's Soekarno Hatta airport had broken down, the plane was 35 minutes late and the passengers were left roasting in a boarding hall that must have been 110 degrees or more. Boarding the plane was like the usual cattle rush, although Garuda had introduced a new color coded boarding system that should have at least worked in some small way. On board the...air conditioning was not working. Sweat was pouring off even the most hardened brow. The plane then missed its place in the take-off que and we were left waiting a further 30 minutes on the tarmac.Arriving in Surabaya the plane doors were opened to...heat. Again, the air conditioning at the air bridge was off. It must have been national no AC day. Surabaya was about 20 degrees Fahrenheit HOTTER than Jakarta, the heat on the connector from the plane to the terminal rippled and seared all around the passengers as they made their way off the 737.I was meet at the domestic lounge by my clients and we made our way to the car, which had faulty AC! Arrived at their Surabaya store to check on the installation of a machine there. Surabaya is Java's second city, a sprawling metropolis of around 9 million, it must be one of the warmest city scapes in Indonesia. It is located between several large volcanos (including Mt Bromo) and the Java Sea. The flat plains all around are conducive to rice farming, the volcanic slopes inland for coffee, tobacco and other types of agriculture. The Dutch used the city as a major port for export and since independence the commercial importance of Surabaya has grown even more.One thing the Dutch were very good at was town planning. It is unfortunate the Indonesians are polar opposites.While the old towns in every major Indonesian city are typified by shady, cool and wide Avenues and Boulevards, the Indonesian contribution is chaotic and shambolic roading systems. It took us almost 90 minutes to crawl our way over 12km to the cafe. The car was like a Norwegian Spa, but in all the worst possible ways. Puddles of water were forming on the seats, it was like sitting in a very leaky boat.A quick check of the cafe and we bid Surabaya farewell. 1 hour later we were still bidding Surabaya farewell. Then we broke free and hit the toll road. Indonesia has some great toll roads, the one out of Surabaya is no exception. 3 lanes, well sealed. Nice. Traffic flowed smoothly until we hit what is now known as Indonesia's greatest natural disaster, the Sidoarjo Mudflow (or AKA Lapindo's mistake).About three years back oil exploration ended in disaster when the drilling crews hit a subterranean mud pool about the size of Texas. Depending on who you listen to the disaster either was man made or created by an earthquake that conveniently (or inconveniently) coincided with the drilling. It is pretty much accepted that the former is more likely. Since then millions of cubic meters of mud have erupted from below- around 100,000m a day is still oozing out. The extent of the damage is monumental. A lake of smelly, sulphur tainted mud has now devoured several large villages. The once thriving town of Porong is almost a ghost town. The Toll Road was also engulfed, so our nice run ended and we joined the long rows of trucks, buses, motorbikes, rickshaws, bicycles and other conveyances jockeying for position on the narrow road that leads from the mudflow towards Malang. Two hours later, well after the sun had set into a dusty, mud red sky, we arrived.The new cafe location was chosen because it is close to several Universities. Malang's motto is it is the “City of Education”, although I think Yogyakarta, with its 85 recognised Universities, might dispute that. .Never mind, opening the door of the car I was greeted by a cool, fragrant evening. The air was clean and almost crisp, a very nice change from the cities of lowland Java. The cafe itself was coming along nicely. Hip, modern Indo designs melded with some more traditional batiks and Mataram period artwork. 30 minutes later, machine installed and espresso flowing like beer at an Irish country pub.I decided to spend the evening in Malang rather than torment myself with the 3 hour return trip to SBY. A quick check on TripAdvisor had identified an interesting place called “Spendid Inn”. Reviews describing the place as being lost in the 1920's kind of appealed to me, so thought I would give it a go.The Spendid Inn has a primo location next to the Dutch Era Town Hall, and across the road from a large park. Next door is the splendid Hotel Tugu- reknown for its elegance, design and (of course) hefty room rates. I was pleasantly surprised to find that, indeed, the Splendid Inn was really living in the past. I had booked the equivalent of the Presidential Suite- the “Colonial Room” all for the princely sum of $22 (including breakfast). The room was huge, the bathroom alone the size of a large hotel room in a more modern hotel. The fittings, front desk, bar area and lobby indeed were a bit dated, but charming. The staff were also nice- although they insisted on calling me “Tuan”, which is how the Dutch insisted on being called by the unruly natives when they called the Dutch East Indies home.The mosque woke me at around 4.30am. 11 years here and I am pretty deaf now to to the early am call to worship. This Imam was different. The speakers came on with a supercharged crackle and then Michale Jackson blared out “No difference if you are Black or White” for a good 5 minutes before the Imam came on. A cunning ploy I reckon, without the late-great MJ's vocal screetches I would have slept through it all. Not being able to get back to sleep I was surprised to find that it was quite light outside already, so got up and decided to do some walking before breakfast. I was dying to find some coffee and even at such an early hour was in luck. The Tugu Hotel cafe was open and I enjoyed a pot of freshly brewed and fairly freshly roasted Java Robusta. I am no fan of Robusta, but the Java variety is fairly solid, with excellent chocolate tones in the cup. Being freshly roasted was a plus- and drinking the coffee in a shop surrounded by antique colonial furniture and newspaper adverts was quite an experience.From the Tugu made my way past Java Dancer Coffee, across the river where the locals were bathing and/or defecating, up the hill to another Malang Cafe classic- Oen Cafe and Ice cream depot. Oen opened in 1930. Today the great grandchildren still run the place as well as a sister cafe in the Central Java administrative capital of Semarang. The place, like the Splendid Inn, is firmly rooted in a by-gone era. Waiters in waist coats and bow ties serve ice cream and coffee with the panache you would expect to find in Italy or Holland.Bandung has for a long time carried the mantle as being the most Colonial European city in Indonesia. In colonial times it was called “The Paris of the East”, although Saigon and I believe Vientiane also had similar tittles back then. I like Bandung, but for the share volume of old buildings, churches, movie theaters and houses- Malang surely takes the cake for being in the best shape as a reminder of Indonesia's links to its former Colonial past. The number of Art Deco buildings is surprising- most are now being used as cafes or Ice Cream shops. Another big plus is the friendliness of the locals. East Java gets a very bad rap by other Indonesians and foreigners alike for the people being quite rough and loud. This maybe true in Surabaya- who can blame them with the unpleasant heat and humidity. Malang(ians) are really very pleasant people.By 7am I was ready for my Spendid Breakfast, so made my way back. It seemed that I was the only guest at the hotel, which I am sure is not true. I had the dinning room to myself to enjoy coffee, 3 slices of toast, scrambled egg, jam, strong coffee and orange juice. The staff left me alone to enjoy what must me described as a truly colonial atmosphere.With time to spare before my return to the searing heat of Surabaya, I decided to pay a visit to the bird market which straddles both sides of the river running through Malang. Bird markets are not exclusively Indonesian, however I have found that the conditions found in such places is generally indicative of the civic pride and general cleanliness of the cities they are in. Malang's bird market is quite clean and orderly. The smells, odors- make that the stench of sweating birds, stagnant water and animal waste that typify other Javanese cities, is no where to be found. Worth a visit I would say.The consequence of spending the evening in Malang was that the return trip the next day was by “Travel”. This is the term Indonesians use for the private mini bus fleets that link the cities around Java. Travel means hours crammed into a mini bus sans AC. Look I know how many times I have mentioned lack of AC in this posting and maybe I am getting soft with age. There was a time when I spent 28 hours in a bus, with 60 people, 3 goats, 8 chickens- windows welded shut- everyone smoking- and no AC...but that is another story and I digress. This mini bus had suspension that crazy trucks die for. Rock hard springs keeping the van firmly on the road, the passengers permanently suspended between the seats and the roof. The fan blowing out warm air and clouds of sweet, sticky kretek cigarette smoke. Being very experienced in using travel, I had plastered an entire stick of Rexona 24hr protection guaranteed deodorant on my armpits in the morning. 30 minutes into the trip I began writing a mental memo complaining to the company about false advertising. My shirt was wet, but at least the melting deodorant masked the smell of other sweating bodies.The Travel made its way at break-neck speed down the sweaty alspalt road back towards Surabaya. The countryside going by at a blur as the well worn springs in the seat dug viciously into my butt.with every bounce the van made. Swinging wildly from one side of the road to other is not the recommended best way of getting from point a to B. For some reason Bruce's rough, crooning lyrics kept replaying themselves in my head - “highway littered with broken heros, on a last chance power drive...” I did recently read in the Jakarta Post that 17,000 people died on Indonesia,s roads last year....hmmmHaving traveled the Archipelago over, the density of the population in even rural Java is a surprise. Commerce- roadside warungs, tireshops, motorbike dealers, fruit stalls, chemists, Wartels, massage joints and cafes block out the green and gold of the rice paddies.Having only side swiped 2 motorbikes on the way (one laden down with 100kg of grass), almost rear ended 3 container trucks and having avoided any head on collisions (just) meant the trip was fairly successful- at least for the driver. For us, dripping with sweat and tired after 5 hours in the Travel mini van, we were just glad to be back in Surabaya. I cant believe I just wrote that. Now, sitting at the airport plane delayed again, this most recent trip is over.
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Posted by Alun Evans on February 2, 2009 at 1:30pm
It was February 6th 2007 when the last big floods hit us in Jakarta. I remember that day well as our cafe in Kemang was flooded a metre deep with muddy, dirty river water that had climbed out of the nearby creek and covered all of the leafy South Jakarta suburb within a few hours. The cleanup took a while, but I am proud to say that we were trading on the sidewalk the very next day for customers in a need for a coffee do not just go away.Yesterday I woke up to the third successive day of heavy tropical rain. It simply is that time of year again, not much can be done about it. I had been thinking about doing a motorbike trip into the West Java countryside, just to snap a few pictures of the locals going abut everyday life. I thought it might be good to post these on BX. In the States most of the Javanese Coffee available is from East Java, some 1200km from where I live. West Java however was where it all begun for the coffee industry in Indonesia. The Dutch originally brought coffee here, Arabica from India, over 300 years ago. Planting initially was around Batavia (modern day Jakarta). In the capital city today streets such as Jl Kopi and suburbs like Jatrinegara are testimony to the fact that agriculture was once part of the trading life blood of the place.The Dutch quickly pushed their systems of plantation agriculture south, through Bogor and all the way to the town of Pelabhuan Ratu (Queens Harbour) on the Indian Ocean coast. Where I live, Sentul, is just about smack in the middle of where the heaviest concentration of plantations once stood. On the hills that wind in towards Jonggol and Bandung, coffee, pepper, rubber, clove and even the occasional nutmeg tree can still be found growing. Many of these old estates are now overgrown, but the trees and the way they were planted in grid patterns gives testimony to the agricultural systems of the day.With the rain still falling I wrapped the camera in several plastic bags, donned some very inadequate wet weather gear and hit the road. Conditions ranged from between warm and very wet, to bloody cold and very wet. The good news was that the light was perfect for photographing the villagers as they sheltered in their verandas of gathered in local Warungs to drink coffee and chat. It was not too hard to get a smile, I looked like the proverbial drowned rat.The villages in this area are still untouched by a lot of the expectation and disappointment that big city life creates in cities as big as Jakarta, or as small as Bogor. Graffiti is rare, people look healthy and are genuinely happy. Don't get me wrong, it is not my place as a visitor here to say that village life is many ways is superior to that in the city. Literacy levels (low) and infant mortality rates (high) are still a problem in rural Indonesia. However, in the coffee projects we operate here we are working hard to keep the farmers on the land, pay them well and develop infrastructure. I think there is no doubt that we have seen rural communities would rather stay in villages as long as they have a similar level of access to resources as those in the cities.On this day I got thoroughly wet. I was caked in thick, sticky mud up to my knees. My eyes stung from the constant rain and the concentration required to keep the bike firmly on the road. My butt hurt from the constant trampolining effect the buckled tracks produced under the bike. By wrists ached, by back was sore. However I had a great day and have absolutely no regrets on doing the trip. Lots of coffee, thick, hot, tar-like Robusta with sugar was drunk along the way. I met newborn babies to a couple of 95 year men who told me stories of the Japanese occupation and Independence. I ate rambutan and sweet manggis picked from trees hanging over the road. I helped villagers pull a dilapidated land cruiser from a swollen river and walked amongst the ruins of a long abandoned colonial coffee plantation. Yes, a great day. Next week I will bring back the prints of the photos I took yesterday for the friends I made along the way and, hopefully, get a few more pictures while I am at it.
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I think that this kind of coffee brand and ideas are good for popularity of coffee in small country like ours Croatia , we lived in lies of big companies for lonk period of time,no education ,no blands,no taste...Thanks to few enthusiast we woke up and now new day for coffee in Croatia is coming ...www.barista.com.hr
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