When I first arrived in the city, my senses were greeted with a feast. In the background of a busy street in Malioboro, you could hear the distinct chanting from the mosques; the smell of fried food from the stalls rushing through my nose making my stomach churn; and my eyes feasted upon the silent stories of people as they go about their day’s work.
Yogyakarta seemed like an interesting name so I googled the meaning on my phone. Apparently Yogya means fit and karta means prosper. Which, when put together means “A city that is fit to prosper”.
Being the center of fine art and culture in Java, the corners teemed with puppet shows, batik sellers, and street vendors selling food, bracelets, bags, souvenirs, and t-shirts.
But if there’s one word that describes Yogyakarta, it would definitely be "Texture".
In the streets, you’d also see a number of chess games taking place. Sometimes, a group of men would gather round a game in silence. I was tempted to stand and join the crowd but my feet dictated my choices so I continued to walk.
Despite insistent offers from becak (tricycle), andong (horse-drawn carriage), and ojek (motorcycle taxi) drivers, I put my feet on the ground and kept walking. I just love walking.
I ventured into small alleys and found walls of colorful graffiti. It’s too bad I don’t understand what they are saying though.