It’s 6am. Central Jakarta is no less busy for the wee hours, with motorbikes dodging shiny black SUVs, the occasional slow-moving food carts pedalled by sinewy old men reminding me that pace isn’t everybody’s prerogative.
Outside Pasar Senen central railway station, the frenetic atmosphere is slightly heightened as passengers find parking spaces, drag heavy luggage, jab fingers at phones, their morning focused on catching a train.
The next one, the Fajar Utama Yogya, which fittingly translates as “dawn”, will depart on time at 6.40am, according to the overhanging platform sign. The efficient business-class service shuttles passengers each way between Jakarta, the Indonesian capital, and Yogyakarta, the Central Java capital. The eight-hour journey follows an east-west corridor of truly spectacular scenery, with regional stops along the way.
As I trot along the platform, I sidestep into one of the orange-striped silver carriages for a quick sticky beak and am pleasantly surprised by the creature comforts within. The air-con is on, and smart blue-striped leather lounge seats, two on either side of the aisle, look comfortable enough to snooze in. There are electric sockets next to each seat, a TV and overhead baggage compartments.
Through a sliding door, the dining car is set up for socialising with four seats to each table. A poster touts the day’s special – ayam geprek, a crispy battered chicken and rice dish served with spicy sambal, costing IDR38,000 (about $3.50): a bargain.
Meanwhile, the porter, dressed smartly in a chequered sarong and traditional Javanese blangkon headdress who is pushing my luggage along the platform, looks at me quizzically. His confusion stands to reason. It makes no sense that I’d be admiring these public carriages – taking photos even – when I’m about to board Indonesia’s most indulgent luxury train carriage.
I follow him compliantly to the end of the train where I see the Fajar Utama Yogya’s gorgeous little red caboose. The endearingly old-world carriage is painted a lustrous heritage red and sports thick gold stripes. Waiting to greet me is an attendant who presses his hands together in a deferential “hallo” and welcomes me on board.
The luxury on show here hardly compares with the comforts in the carriages I’ve just seen at the front of the train, and it’s little wonder. The carriage is part of the “Journey Through Java by Train” experience offered to guests at Amanjiwo, one of the world’s most exclusive resorts.
Sitting on a hilltop in the town of Borobudur, 60 minutes by car from Yogyakarta, the Ed Tuttle-designed resort has a view toward magnificent Candi Borobudur, the world’s largest Buddhist temple. This extraordinary ninth-century UNESCO World Heritage site features 504 life-size Buddha statues and is as historically and culturally significant to Indonesia as Angkor Wat is to Cambodia. Rather than fly into Jakarta or Yogyakarta international airports, Amanjiwo guests can opt to travel slowly in the lap of luxury, learning about this extraordinary site on the train along the way.
Indeed, it’s the fortunate few who will enjoy such a five-star experience. The carriage caters to a maximum of eight people occupying four couches in an open compartment. Travelling solo, I am shown to my own plush leather couch with batik cushions that match the opulent creamy brown interior, and a side-table with little snack jars and a book or two about Javanese history. As the train pulls out of the station, I’m served spicy turmeric jamu, a traditional Indonesian morning drink with medicinal properties.
This is what I love about train travel – permission to sit, sip and look.
The city outskirts offer a landscape of rooftops punctuated by a crisscross of rail bridges with little uniformity. Tiles, bricks, tin, pitched roofs, flat tops, a sea of urban topography that has apparently grown without form or function. Dull city greys are relieved only by seams of green that find their way along fence lines and guttering.
We crawl through suburban stations, the platforms full of people whose faces blur, like watercolour, as we pass. At crossroads, the middle-distance materialises: Gojek ride-share drivers wear ubiquitous lime-green jackets, school kids cling to parents on backs of scooters.
As the city falls behind, the architecture becomes softer, with more red bricks and dark orange tiles, more greenery. In village squares, I glimpse market-goers hustling. Mosque domes stand proud above the roofline, their castle tops painted bright blue and yellow. Sometimes the mosaic glass of a minaret glints at me.
Inside the carriage, the aromatic smell of frying sambal distracts from the landscape. In an intimate one-table dining area, I’m treated to an Indonesian breakfast of arem arem, an egg-crepe stuffed with coconut rice and chicken. Later, for lunch, I try gudek jogja, a Yogyakarta stew of jackfruit, chicken and egg in creamy coconut milk. A medley of traditional Javanese sweet treats includes gethuk, made with steamed cassava and palm sugar.
The waiter draws my attention to the sky, where a white sheet of cloud stretches from one side of the train over our heads to the other.
“It is hiding the volcano peaks that are the best part of this train journey,” he says.
This is hard to believe until, during the course of my meal, the sky starts to clear and a dramatic landscape materialises.
Dominating the view is Gunung Ciremai or Mount Cereme, which lies near the city of Cirebon, in Bandung province. This perfect triangular stratovolcano is the highest point in West Java and a sacred site for the Javanese people. Once Ciremai appears, its muted blue conical form remains with us for most of the journey, a steadfast background visual as the foreground whizzes by.
As I watch the scenery, Amanjiwo’s resident anthropologist, Patrick Vanhoebrouck, originally from Belgium and now resident in Yogyakarta, takes to the lectern. In a batik brown shirt that matches the decor, he tells us about the spirituality of the Javanese people, and the ancient civilisations embedded in the landscape we are passing through. He compares the incredible carved panels of Borobudur temple to today’s Instagram, a snapshot of life as it was in the ninth century.
We cross a wide river into Central Java’s green interior, a landscape of lush green woodland and tiered flooded rice fields that step uniformly down to river ravines crowded with palms, bamboo and coconut trees. Little tiled-roof cottages sit amid plentiful market garden plots.
The train stops in the town of Bumiayu, where the station looks clean and efficient with shiny tiled floors and rows of passenger seats facing the train. The station master, wearing a smart red box cap and a white shirt with his rank displayed on the shoulder, stands to attention as the train pulls out.
It’s further evidence that train travel is an excellent option for travelling around Java. A quick web search reveals a convenient train system linking all the main cities including Jakarta, Yogyakarta, Probolinggo and Ketapang (where you can catch the ferry to Bali).
According to The Man in Seat 61 train travel website: “Indonesian trains are cheap, comfortable and air-conditioned. They run on narrow-gauge 3′6″ (106-centimetre) tracks, but are fast and usually punctual”.
What’s more, in September 2023, Indonesia launched Whoosh, South-East Asia’s first high-speed railway service. The train route runs 143 kilometres between the capital of Jakarta and the country’s second-largest city, Bandung. At an average speed of 350km/h, it reduces the travel time between the two cities from three hours on regular trains to 45 minutes. Plans to extend the track 500 kilometres east of Jakarta to Surabaya are under way.
Rain skids across the windows as we approach Yogyakarta, bringing with it a smell like the tropical version of newly mowed grass. At a crossroads, the paused traffic watches us pass, heads turning as the little red caboose disappears up the track behind the modern silver train.
We arrive at Yogyakarta station, efficient as ever, at 2.37pm. It is one of Java’s oldest stations with a lovely white facade – circa 1940s – and a clockface nodding to a bygone era. The journey feels over, but of course, it’s not. Off to Amanjiwo we go.
Sydney Morning Herald Travel
