Yogyakarta, 2026

I flew for a trip to Yogyakarta on a whim. I was feeling suffocated with the anxiety at work, complicated relationships and a thousand what-ifs playing in my mind like a broken record. I was at a loss and desired clarity. And I knew I needed the wisdom of my friend in Indonesia, Wisnu, to guide me in the right direction.

Yogyakarta isn’t a city strange to me. In contrast with Bali, Yogyakarta seems to have hung on to its values and culture tightly and proudly, not letting the allure of money sweep it away. Familiar landmarks paint the historic city, like the kraton, Malioboro, alun alun and the hustle and bustle of the citizens of Yogyakarta carrying on with their lives. I have found a new home where I seek respite from the rat race in Kuala Lumpur. Yogyakarta is a city alive with culture, yet metropolitan, and in this unique combination I have found a place fitting for me to call a second home.

On my day of arrival, Wisnu whisked me to our usual spot. A restaurant on a hill, overlooking the valley that holds Yogyakarta. It rained heavily and there were no musicians that night. But over coffee, Gudang Garam and pisang goreng, I poured out to him what was bothering me. Wisnu cleverly distilled my thoughts and helped to provide some clarity. I knew he was my friend in need, and a friend indeed.

There were some new places that have popped up in Yogyakarta in recent months, places I haven’t tried. Picturesque photos and videos can be found circulating in social media, tantalising travellers to come visit. In truth, Yogyakarta isn’t particularly known for its beaches, which are said to be less beautiful compared to those of the island of Sumba or Bali. But they were captivating enough, nevertheless, and contributed to a carousel of photos on my Instagram page.

Wisnu and I enjoyed each other’s company over lunch, devouring a simple meal of fish, sambal and rice with the soft winds blowing towards us. We were philosophising about life with Indrayati beach in the background, while the song of the ocean, rustling waves and whistling winds played along. We talked for hours, laughed and took some photos, and I later walked barefoot on the beach letting the sea sweep at my feet. I was in my element, free to be myself and truly happy.

As the afternoon moved along, we took a short drive to The Rock, alas, another tourist trap. The staircase to the platform which housed a café and restaurants were enclosed by white limestone walls. It was an Instaworthy scene to add to my feed, with a few more photo opportunities proving to be suitable content to be presented to my faithful social media followers. The platform was perched right at the edge of a cliff, which offered sweeping views of the ocean and beaches below. The Rock attracted throngs of tourists who, like me, needed to share their experiences on social media. We sat in the café admiring the views, and a spell of silence came upon us as we basked in this rare moment of peace.

Although I am Malaysian, and batik is synonym to the Malaysian identity, I have never tried batik painting before. We had time to kill before I had to return to my hotel, so we made a brief stop at a batik factory. Despite it being rather late in the evening, they accommodated my request for a batik painting session. I tried my hand at tracing the pencil lines of the batik design on a cloth, steadily holding the canting that held burning hot wax. I diligently drew on my cloth, and I found this activity to be very therapeutic. I suppose having to focus while balancing an instrument that holds hot wax needed full concentration so as to not burn our hands. I was very proud of the outcome of my batik painting.

During my trip to Yogyakarta, we had to drive through narrow and bumpy roads (some of which are riddled with potholes) for a couple of hours at a time. There was no music in the background, both Wisnu and I were also too tired to chat during our car journey. The silence was actually comforting – it gave me the opportunity to reflect amidst the wonderful scenery offered by Yogyakarta. Most importantly, I had a friend to accompany me. At a time when I am not tied down by a relationship, friends are what I need the most whenever confusion or anxiety befalls me. I am grateful indeed for my social circle – friends that have lent me their ears and given me their shoulders to lean on.

My trip to Yogyakarta this time was uneventful. I revisited some places that hold a dear place in my heart. The thick forest of jati trees, narrow roads, kampung homes, Javanese statues and edifices – this familiar scene is what makes me miss Yogyakarta when I am away. The place itself, uniquely Javanese and the people, warm, welcoming and accepting, always makes me feel at home. Whenever I am about to board my flight back to Kuala Lumpur, I’ll stare far into the horizon, wondering when I will come back again – to visit my second home and friend.