I once watched David Guison’s old vlog on Yogyakarta (pronounced Jogjakarta). He said the city is more relaxed than Cebu. I’ve lived in Cebu City for 20 years and I will have to agree with him on Cebu being a relaxed city. At least, relaxed in comparison to Manila. So, when we arrived in Jogja, after five days in Borobudur, I already set the expectation of a relaxed, chill vibe.
Continue reading “Travel Guide to 15 Days in Yogyakarta — The Soul of Java”
This is my travel guide to Borobudur and I will start it by saying, Joel and I are destined for each other. I know that sounds off, but let me explain further. Joel and I went to different schools. He is also five years older. Joel is a true-blue Cebu boy, while I’m a true-blue island girl. There was no way our worlds would have collided. Except we met each other and our one common denominator is our high school Asian history teacher — Mr. Reynaldo Inocian.
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“Dukduk,” I told them, and they both started giggling. “Dukduk,” they repeated. The two women were teaching me how to make the base ingredient to their nasi goreng, the typical Indonesian rice dish similar to fried rice, and it involved onions, garlic and candlenut (kemiri, they called it), and a mortar and pestle. They were asking me how Filipinos call the pounding movement of the pestle and I replied “dukduk,” which is the Bisaya for “pound.”
Continue reading “Cooking Lessons at Balkondes Karangrejo, Borobudur”
He introduced himself in Indonesian, or in Jawanese, I could not tell. He was a middle-aged man, probably the same age as my father. He was wearing batik. He was well-built, and brown-skinned, much like a Filipino. He offered his hand for a handshake. Joel took his hand and he immediately reciprocated. I offered my hand, but there was a time lapse before he took mine for a handshake.
Continue reading “When Bapak Meto Finally Shaked my Hands”
Psyche Castillon 