Solo

After our week in Bali, we've now come to Solo (Surakarta) for three weeks. Solo and Yogyakarta fifty miles away are widely regarded, at least by the Central Javanese, as the twin cultural centres of the country if not the nation. Our arrival in Yogya was a bit of a culture shock after Bali; all of the heat, motorbikes, insects, fumes and unfamiliarity of Indonesia with none of the tourist-paradise feel.

The trip to Solo looked easy; the train station was right beside the exit to the airport, and the fare was only IDR 7000, that's about 50p. Which was fine until the train actually pulled up, four or five tiny yellow carriages about the same size as a Glasgow underground train, pretty much completely packed with people. We took one look and turned tourist, went for the taxi instead. According to the receptionist at our hotel, we should only have paid about IDR 150,000 for this instead of the IDR 200,000 agreed. On the other hand, there appeared to be some sort of official taxi police at Yogya airport who agreed the fare our driver was asking was fair.

Ended up giving him a bit extra for his efforts when we got to Solo anyway; the hotel was impossibly difficult to find! I had an address and even walking directions, but still our driver had to go round and round in circles asking several policemen and local people, and even phoning the hotel itself on my phone with no luck. Turns out there are three streets called 'Jalan Cakra'...

Cakra Homestay itself is an oasis of calm amidst the chaos of shops and traffic which surrounds it. A sort of compact two-story compound, with a pool and some other buildings in the centre; dark smoky wood, decaying wrought-iron work. The room is small, rather basic, rather full of insects. The cockroach I threw out last night was... huge. Really.

More importantly of course, is the gamelan resident in the hotel, which is what makes this place a magnet for foreign players and students. Last night we witnessed our first performance here. The gamelan itself is in a side room, with a double door and a few windows opening onto a corridor. Inside the room were the players; this was described to us as a 'community group', a group of local musicians who meet twice a week to play just for the enjoyment of it, 'not professionals'. The majority were older people, perhaps retired players? There were also a number of young to middle aged people in the group, and I was told that there were four 'teachers' there tonight, meaning I assume expert professional players.

They played from about 2000 to 1100. Most of the material was beyond me; I think they played about four gendhings over the course of the evening, one of them perhaps forty minutes long, extended multi-section compositions, sometimes very slow, often ending with quite loud and lively music. The players seemed to grow into it as the night went on; by the end of the evening our attention was fixed on a very elderly drummer who when seated at the drums literally seemed transformed again into a handsome young man.

Our stay here coincides with a visit by a group from Galloway who are buying their own set of instruments under the guidance of the well-known London musician Peter Smith. At the end Peter introduced us to one of the younger players, Darsono, 'one of the foremost gamelan players of his generation'. So rather scarily, we are going to have a go at getting lessons from him this afternoon!