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Wednesday 10.02.10 The Dwi Pangga Java Express- by train through Java to Purwokerto.
The Javanese countryside flashes by, a myriad of different greens. On either side of the track rice fields stretch into the haze of the hot and distant horizon. This is the rice bowl of Java. Sawah, or Paddy as they are more commonly called, are neatly parceled right up to the edge of the railway line. Villages, like islands in a sea of shimmering green, are dotted at intervals amongst the fields. Colorful scarecrows built with cloth and tin-cans jingle in the lazy breeze. It is the wet season, so the fields are well irrigated and lush, brimming with muddy water. A single dirt track runs for hundreds of kilometers alongside the railway line and rice fields. Occasionally farmers ride past on dilapidated iron framed push bikes and groups of locals sit around a boiling teapot, drinking hot, sweet coffee.
Many Indonesian train trips begin and end at the faded lime-green halls of Jakarta's Gambir Railway Station. Trains to just about every major city in Java pass through Gambir on their way east. Although the arrival in Indonesia en-mass of budget airlines has dented the volumes on the trains, the halls of the station are still bustling and frenetic. Dunkin Donuts is the proffered oasis for Europeans and middle-class Indonesians alike before they take the plunge into the gauntlet of ticket touts, salesmen, taxi drivers, porters and...hookers. The later sit on endless cups of iced coffee in Dunkin or wait expectantly at the bottom of the escalators on the lookout for new arrivals: single European men.
Gambir Station is in the heart of Jakarta, nestled up beside the National Monument (MONAS). Its location could be described as somewhat inconvenient as a commuter train hub. No offices are nearby save the US Embassy, which it would assumed is not a regular patron of public rail services. In many ways the station typifies the capital city: bad coffee, the sickly smell of seat and stale cigarette smoke. Touting, hustling, pushing, heckling and jousting. Indonesian Dangdut music being played just a couple of decibels louder than what the Western eardrum finds comfortable.
The four lines running into Gambir are very busy with morning commuter trains from Bogor, Tanggerang, Cikampek and Bekasi. The long distance trains- like the one to Purwokerto and Yogyakarta leave on the hour from around 6am onwards.
The blur of green rushes past for hours. The coastal plain stretches along the North Coast like a well stretched belt from Jakarta through past the Central Java capital of Semarang. The railway forks at the city of Cirebon, the gateway into central Java. The city- like Yogya and Solo, was once the seat of power for a very powerful Sulternate. These days fame and economic fortune is from the prawn industry and also from Batik. The railway station was built by the Dutch in Colonial times and is magnificant with its high roof and clean, whitewashed walls.
The climb from the Coastal rice fields of the North is spectacular. The tracks wind up through mountains planted in Coffee, Cloves and Pepper trees. Iron viaducts span vast, deep river valleys. Huge, brown, languorous the rivers flow toward the Java Sea. The train is pulled by two big diesel locomotives, but even still the climb is slow and labourous. At some points the train is going almost walking pace. On one side the slopes of the mountains reach up into the thick clouds- purple and bruised like an overipe eggplant. On the other the ricefields tumble away, a quilted green down into the river valleys and streams below.
On the plains on both sides of the divide double track is already in place, but on the Northside of the mountains there is still only a single railway track. This means small villages such as Pupuk, Patuguran or Kretek get to host express trains while they wait for trains passing from the opposite direction. Vendors selling peanuts and fried tempe show their wares, while on-board railway security keeps a wary eye on proceedings.
The highest point of the track may only be just over 350m, but the climb seems to take over an hour. At the summit cloud and light rain hugs the carriages, the temperature a pleasantly cool 15 degrees. The windows slick with moisture quickly dry as the train begins descending back into the tropical heat of the plains below.
Much has changed with train travel in Indonesia over the last decade. The carriages are modern and furnished with comfortable airline type seats set on a 2-2 formation. The windows are large and afford a fantastic view of the lush, tropical, steamy landscape. On the newer ArgoLawo or DwiPangga Trains every seat has access to a powerplug- meaning laptops and phones can be used during trips. Food is also provided, via an on-board catering service. However Indonesian Rails reputation of old means many passengers chose to bring their own food. Large flat-screen TV's play the latest movies along with popular Indonesian music videos. Needless to say the air-conditioning works.
On the Southern Side of the divide is Purwokerto. Purwokerto Station. Old Dutch building with high gabled roofing over the lines to allow the big diesels to pull up to the station. Bustling with porters and ladies selling the local delicacies: Nopia and Kripik. The Mix Cafe is the main hangout spot in the station. It is packed with those arriving, those awaiting trains and the ready-mix crowd of local girls looking for the opportunity to link up with a foreigner alighting at the city. Suprisingly the cafe has a two group Boema espresso machine; a bit akin to finding a Ferrari in a small, one road rural town. Not suprisingly the coffee served is a single orign robusta- cupping like rubber shavings blended with turpentine.
Cigarette smoke, thick and sweet with the essence of cloves lies low over the yellow formica tables. Red ants scurry hungrily across the chipped tile flow- picking morsels dropped by the cafes clientale. It is an interesting mix of faces. As there is no airport within 4 hours of Purwokerto, everyone takes the train. It is faster, safer than risking the road through to Cirebon or back to Yogyakarta. Guicci blends with ripped Lee Jeans and aging rubber flip-flops. The uniform of government offices vs smart suits and tied heading to private businesses in Jakarta. No air-conditioning, the front doors open to allow a breeze in off the forested slopes of nearby Mt Slamet. The back faces the track and the fumes of diesel roll in with every passing locomotive.
It is seemingly rare that bule, white foreigners, visit Purwokerto. Motorbikes pile up as drivers crane to look at an expatriate walking casually along the street. The famous Javanese smiles are everywhere, as are the additional price increases- lets call it a foreigners tax. The city itself is small. It was in Dutch times a staging post for the trip between the South and the North of Java. There are still many Colonial era buildings in town- which is built around a very pretty Alun-Alun (town square). Low, compact buildings housing government offices, Hospitals and schools.
Wikipedia describes Purwokerto as having two tourist attractions of note: a bridge built in 1967 and the 6 Banyan trees that are found around the town square. Indeed there are many more attractions just begging to be discovered. The train trip alone makes a visit to Purwokerto worthwhile.
