Anyone up for a cup of tea? I messaged my friends on WhatsApp while I lounged on our spacious balcony overlooking Royal Ambarrukmo’s lighted pool area. The night was young, and yet here I was, without a beer bottle in hand, sipping on tea instead. As before on a previous trip to the city, finding alcohol in Yogyakarta was harder than finding a spot without tourists on Borobudur.

EVEN THE ELEVATOR LOBBY LOOKS CLASSY

For two nights, the historic Royal Ambarrukmo Hotel became our home in Yogyakarta. We arrived on a warm September evening after an hour-long flight from Bandung and an excellent dish of fried chicken on a local restaurant. While everyone was craving for sleep. I was craving for beer.

The sun rose like a god. Breathing life to layers of what was once a dark and lifeless landscape. Giving forms and shapes to a massive temple, unfolding seconds by brighter seconds, right before our very eyes. It awakened the land, birthing a brand new day. But for travelers who got up at the ungodly hour of two in the morning to witness this rebirth, it awoke something else entirely; the switch button from the heavy cameras hanging about their necks.

We rose early with a plan to head straight to the Prambanan Temple. Outside, seven floors down, the sun was also just waking, yawning and sending off soft warm morning rays across the clay-tiled roofs on the houses below. Off the horizon, Mount Merapi stood watching, Mount Sambing at his back. Oh yes, the plan to temple hop. But we all knew we won’t be doing that anytime soon, our bed was just too comfy and there’s a sumptuous buffet breakfast waiting for us at the ground floor below.

JAMBULUWUK, AS SEEN FROM ITS ROOFTOP CAFE

Jambuluwuk Malioboro Boutique Hotel was our home for three nights for the Yogyakarta leg of our Asean Summer Loop Tour. I actually don’t know what the name means, but I know there’s a village in the district of Bogor in West Java with the same name, Jambu Luwuk.

Malioboro is chaos personified. Not the organized kind, but real organic chaos that gets right into your cerebral cortex. Alright, I’m exaggerating. It is an almost organized chaos.

Malioboro was a frequent haunt for us during our trip to Yogyakarta a year ago. Every afternoon until late at night, we’d be along this mile-long street dodging andung (horse-drawn carriages) while still managing to buy souvenir batik products and Jogja Istemawa souvenir shirts, chow on ayam goreng and drink bottle after cold bottles of Bintang or Teh Botol, depending on what side-streets we were on.

And now, after almost two years, we’re back at Malioboro, the craziest street this side of Yogyakarta, albeit on a limited time. Like one hour limited.