Surabaya, the second largest city in Indonesia, lies on the northeastern end of the island of Java, on 7.2° (805 km) south of equator to be exact. The time in Surabaya is GMT + 7. The city was officially founded in 1293 when Raden Widjaja established Majapahit, Indonesia's most glorious empire. History told that the city was founded on the site of a "legendary" battle between a sura (shark) and a baya (crocodile) thus the name 'Surabaya'. The people of Surabaya had gone through numerous fights against British and Dutch. The last battle they had fought before achieving their independence was the Battle of Surabaya. The Indonesian peasant army had fought in a state of frenzy so as to make certain Indonesia would become a free and independent Republic, and vowed to forever fight and sacrifice until freedom became a reality. Those who fought and died for Indonesia in that bloody battle are commemorated by the Tugu Pahlawan (Heroes' Monument). Since November 1945, Surabaya has always been known as Kota Pahlawan (City of Heroes). Almost 80% of its population are Moslems.
After doing a hell lot of thinking, I agreed to join my aunt and her maid for a year-end trip to Surabaya, Indonesia. Looking at the calender, December 2004 could be the right time to have that trip where I could 'make full use' of my annual leave balance or else they would be forfeited when new year came and that would be such a waste. Another friend of mine, Miss N agreed to join making it four of us heading for a fun trip to Surabaya.
As soon as we landed at Juanda International Airport, situated at the center of the small city of Surabaya, a smell of spicy bakso (fishball soup) surrounded us, pricked on our nostrils and tempted us to hop onto those plastic seats and slurp the soup down our throats. But first thing first. Casting our hunger and thirst aside, we hailed a cab and searched for a good place to stay. Later then we would think of filling up our empty bellies. The cab took us to Gerisik, an hour journey from Surabaya, and managed to find a 3-star hotel called Saptanawa Hotel. Nothing much to be seen around this empty and extremely quiet town. Few blocks ahead was a small foodstall where we indulged ourselves in the spicy taste of bakso. Looking around while the aroma of the soup spiralled around me, I discovered that most of the town's inhibitants were poor farmers. Some lived in small wooden houses not larger than our rented hotel room. Some lived in squatters, where I could see neighbours gather by the fence, perhaps discussing some interesting 'issues' of the day and children played alongside the water-filled walkway. They seemed to be oblivious of the opulent world outside. My aunt's maid later then headed for her village where her family lived, leaving the three of us on our own.
Headed back to the busy town of Surabaya, we stopped to have lunch at Ria Restaurant which offered us their very own delicious local dishes, better known as Nasi Padang. We spent the night at a not so luxurious hotel called Andita Hotel. But I praised their excellent services in providing us a 'home-feel' stay.
Pasar Turi and Pasar Atum were just a walking distance but we took a cab anyway. Decided to visit Pasar Turi first, we went for a shopping spree there. Sandals, scarfs, cow-leather bags, t-shirts, beads were among the things that could be found in our shopping bags. Not enough, we proceeded to Pasar Atum. In there, we went on again for another shopping spree. This time, they were cheap leather belts, cheap leather purses, more scarfs and more t-shirts. Funny how it seemed, although being horrified with our spendthrift manner, we just kept on buying and buying and buying. Sighing all the way that we had to squeeze ourselves among the throng of those who seemed to be people with manner like ours in order to get from one shop to another, I found myself sweating all over from head to toe. At last, after having enough with the 'confinement' in the overcrowded market, we decided to leave. Upon reaching the entrance, the sun had already descended and gone out of sight. I couldn't believe we had wasted almost 6 hours of our precious sight-seeing time in the market and nearly got ourselves bankrupt. But those worries vanished when we were taken by the locals to a market-like seafood restaurant, The SeaMaster. As soon as we reached our room at Andita Hotel, we cafefully re-arranged out the itinerary so that we would have time for sight-seeing (which we had wasted on shopping this morning).
A cab which had been pre-arranged the night before came to take us to Malang the next morning. It is a much cooler town situated approximately 340km from Surabaya. They grow apples here. Amazingly, they are sweet and 'crispy' and undoubtedly fresh. If other countries have theme parks, Malang also owns one. Jawa Timur Park, situated on a hilly terrain, not only offers a small and simple roller coaster, a swimming pool with a couple of fountains, and a ghost house, but some cultural objet d'art can also be seen around, such as miniatures of wayang kulit characters, statues of the heroes who died in battles in order to protect their district from being ripped and taken away by those ruthless imperialists and some old traditional houses lining along the hillcrest.
Feeling really exhausted, we had a simple dinner on our back from Malang and dozed off as soon as we reached our hotel room. When next morning came, we planned to fill up the day with a tour around Surabaya town. Actually, there were lots of different ways to get around in Surabaya, from the traditional becak (trishaw) to bemos (enclosed minibus), public buses and air conditioned cabs. So this time, we unanimously decided to try the trishaw. After a brief price bargaining with the trishaw driver, we were first taken to the Muzium Pahlawan (Museum of Heroes). By the roadside, we could see people lying around under bridges, only layers of torn boxes separated their bodies from the cold soil. These homeless seeked comfort and warmth only by covering themselves with thin old dirty sheets. Across the street I could see two young boys, one was playing a guitar and the other one was holding out his hands to passersby begging for 'rewards' for their street performance. I thanked God that I did not have to see the heart-wrenching scenes such as these back in my own country. We alighted from the trishaw when we reached the museum's pearl white gate. Some historical monuments around the museum's yard made the museum look more presentable.
Inside was a common view of a typical museum; replicas of tankers and jet fighters, lines of old weapons used in the battles, statues showing off traditional clothings during old days, slideshow flashing back the condition of Surabaya during wartime. Hanging high above on the museum wall was the slogan 'Merdeka atau Mati' meaning Freedom or Die. The slogan is cried out everytime they celebrate their Hari Pahlawan (the day to remember the heroes) which falls on November 10 every year.
We continued our tour by stopping at all monuments that could be seen around the town area, but the one that amazed me the mos t was the Sura Baya Monument. The trishaw driver who took us around further amazed me with his story on how Surabaya got its name. The story took place back in Majapahit time where the Raja of Majapahit saw a shark fighting with a crocodile while he was sailing to search for a new land. Being thought as a sign from God, he hence made a promise to name the land he would first set sail as Surabaya (sura means shark and baya means crocodile). The trishaw driver kept on with his story in a thick Indonesian accent. We scarcely understood most of the storylines, but so as not to hurt his feeling we just nodded all way.
Back in our hotel room, we packed up our things for the trip would end tomorrow and that we would be going back to Malaysia. Packing had never been this fun! Talking and laughing! Looking at the heap of souvenirs we bought, we wondered how the hell had we gone through the squeezing and pushing and being pushed in the overcrowded market. We reminisced back the time when the three of us had given such a torturous time to the trishaw driver by asking him to take us around to every corner of the city (which was not in the plan during the bargaining). We giggled at the fact that the Chinese in Indonesia conversed with each other in national Indonesian language instead of their own.
The next morning, Surabaya would be another remarkable land I had been to. An hour before departing from Juanda International Airport, Surabaya, I did the last thing I wished to do - I had a bowl of bakso.
