You might have noticed that I have decided not to participate in an Indonesian Eid tradition: homecoming, or mudik in Bahasa Indonesia. I stopped going to my grandparents’ hometowns of Solo, Central Java, and Ponorogo, East Java, several years ago after my grandpa’s mom had passed away. In fact, the last time I went there was for her funeral.
In the previous years, my family drove all the way from Jakarta to those cities. Since we were not overexcited homecomers who were willing to get trapped in their cars for hours, we carefully chose when to hit the road, avoiding the frustrating traffic in the whole island of Java. That smart choice cut our travel time significantly, which means there were two less cranky kids (my brother and moi) in the car.
Mudik is fun, despite my objections back then. Hello, in the mind of young me, it was just wrong to pluck a kid from his PlayStation and plop him down on a mountainous small town. GameBoy, and later GameBoy Advance, did appease us a bit, but still we were not satisfied. Now, imagine kidnapping someone away from his/her FaceBook access. It is not only technologically impossible, but also morally deplorable.
Anyway, since my hometown is not graced by a visit by yours truly this year, I decided to do it a favor and bring it here on my blog. Here are some of the best things I love about Ponorogo. As it is based on my own experiences, some stuffs aren’t specific for Ponorogo. It’s just that I found these in my visit to Ponorogo.
Ponorogo itself has unique characteristics. Its people –ponorogoers?- is widely known to be very brash, brave, and determined. And I did not just describe only my grandpa. Perhaps it is connected to its cultural product, Reog Ponorogo, and the stories that surround it. I am not an expert on this anthropological matter (if that’s even the appropriate field for this), so I hereby grant you full freedom to research Reog and its star Warok yourself.
source: detik.com
Before anyone even start to think about going into another round of Malingsia-bashing, I’d better explain my position. Reog Ponorogo, as its name clearly says, comes from Ponorogo, East Java, Indonesia. Malaysia have never “stolen” it; they were just lucky enough that some Ponorogoers migrated there and brought their culture with them.
Next, Ponorogo has that certain Javanese small-to-medium town feeling. It has a real city square, the alun-alun, where fun fairs are occasionally held. It was not the most sophisticated fun I ever had, but hey, who cares? There were daredevil shows, amusement rides, and a sprawling bazaar. While we also have crappy pirated stuffs here in Jakarta, the tiger- and ox-shaped clay coin bank, which were the only stuffs I bought there, are memorable treasures.
There were still many traditional Joglo houses with their distinctive roof – at least they were still there the last time I came. The real old ones were built uniformly to a specific orientation, north-south if I’m not mistaken, to respect Nyi Roro Kidul or some other mystic bigwig of the area. That is why the houses don’t really face the street.
It is inevitable that I must boast Ponorogo’s yummy food. We have sego pecel, sate gule, and the whole traditional lot. One thing that sets the town apart is sate ayam Ponorogo or Ponorogo chicken satay with its special dressing. It is unquestionably a treat for the body and soul, yet deceivingly simple. Near the alun-alun is a es dawet ayu vendor. Es dawet ayu is an example of traditional cold desserts. To tell you the truth, I have never grasped why this one is so special, but because we went there each year, I think it’s worth mentioning here.
On a more personal level, I love staying in my great grandparents’ house. It is locally known as “rumah pak kades” (the village chief’s house), because my great grandpa had served as one…in the early years of this republic. He gladly stepped down when Soeharto and his Golkar party started dominating the nation. I don’t know how he managed it, but his legacy lived on today.
The house is one of those traditional Joglo houses. It has a spacious pendopo (a gathering hall) where the whole family can come together. Like other old houses, it still has a water well working along a typical jet pump. We loved playing with the ropes and getting buckets of water just to pour them back into the well. In the backyard, My great grandma used to have a chicken coop. My brother and I enjoyed attempting to feed the chickens, and the chickens surely had fun freaking out two city boys.
Ponorogo is not such a boring city after all. When I think about it now, it was the trip there and back that really took a toll on us, not the city itself. My family loves to dream up an imaginary trip there, conjuring images of delicious satay and refreshing es dawet. Then we cringe on the thought of locking ourselves in the car between hordes of motorcycles in the mudik trail. No, thank you.
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