Day 18: Batik Mafia

A man approached us at a red light and said hi. He looked normal. He told us to have a nice day and watch out for fake batik dealers.

Batik is a Javanese art style that uses wax and dye on fabric. Think of an oil or watercolor painting on fabric. Batik artwork is often vivid and vibrant, since its fabric allows light to shine through. It is also portable and durable. It can be washed, dried, and ironed--and not degrade.

Jogja is home of the batik, and many dealers exist there--especially in tourist zones. The guidebook warned us of fake batik dealers. The best way to test a batik is to wash, dry, and iron it. If it remains in form, then it’s real. Or if the dealer balks at testing it, then assume it’s fake.

We thanked the man and continued walking toward our first sight of the day: the Sultan’s Palace. At the next stop light, another person said hi. She said to be wary of fake batik dealers, especially on the main street (that we were on now). She suggested we go to a government-run dealer about a mile away. We thanked her, and continued walking toward the palace.

A few blocks later, another man warned us about fake batik dealers. This was getting real fishy now. Why were all these normal, busy-looking Jogja residents stopping to warn us? Wouldn’t we be just another set of travelers to them? They must pass by hundreds of tourists a day. Their eye contact, tone of voice, facial expressions, and demeanor all appear honest and helpful. Yet I was skeptical of their motivation.

We got to the palace. It looked like the lamest palace I’ve seen so far in Asia. We opted for a $1 tour of the place. Our guide gave us a solid 15 minute tour. There wasn’t much to see, like I said.

There was something peculiar about our guide. He seemed focused but not exactly on the tour itself. Although he did explain the history and took some photos of us. I couldn’t put my finger on it. Then he brought up the batik scams. He told us to beware.

We told him that three random people on our walk warned us. He said they were probably part of the Chinese mafia. Then he showed us his government badge, and said that we could trust him. Next he suggested that we go to a dealer run by a university and price-fixed by the government. He seemed legit, but I was increased my criticism of the situation. I went into overdrive--analyzing every gesture, tone, and word that I could. What was the truth?

A few minutes later he led us back to the entrance. He asked us if we were interested in seeing batik paintings. We said sure. So he got a taxi driver to take us for $0.30. I figured this was a rock-bottom price--even for locals--and we’d probably pay 10x that if we negotiated ourselves.

The batik dealer was a good three miles away. We would have had to pay 15-20x more, if we negotiated ourselves. It seemed too good to be true.

The batik dealer looked legit. It employed several young men and women--perhaps they were students as claimed. A few other travelers perused the store. The batik paintings were categorized by a pricing scale of A-Z. That seemed to me like a sales system that a school or government would create. The batik paintings were beautiful. They had several paintings from a certain art professor. The dealer’s sales process was passive. It was based on information, education, and a belief that art is a personal choice.

Our budgets were slim. I gravitated toward a vivid $300 batik though; it really impressed me. One of the salesmen (a student in plain clothes) was nudged me to buy it. But I refused--persisting that it was out of my budget--not to mention I had no home. I told him that I might return in 5-10 years. So he let it go. And because he let it go, he gained my trust. So I bought a small one, and Jameelah bought a few.

Next we went to the zoo. Our objective was to see the legendary Komodo Dragon--the largest lizard species in the world. It can grow up to 10 ft (3m) and inhabits only a few islands in Indonesia. A week earlier, we debated whether or not to go to Komodo Island to see the Dragons in nature. Instead, we decided on touring Java, the most populated island in Indonesia.

Good thing we didn’t go to Komodo Island. Seeing the Komodo Dragon at the zoo was anti-climatic. Granted, it was a young lizard on display. But it just laid there in the mud--probably bored out of its mind.

We returned to the main street and ventured further south of the Sultan’s Palace to the Water Palace. The Water Palace was the old sultan’s playground. The Water Palace was just an old landmark from what I could tell--no official entrance.

A plain-clothed old man approached us. He began telling us the history of the Water Palace and invited us to follow him inside if we wanted to learn more. He seemed nice. We agreed to follow him inside.

The Water Palace was an old, decrepit, unmaintained stone structure. But this man brought it to life with history. He painted a picture of a wealthy sultan and his subordinates frolicking and relaxing within the structure. He took photos of us and allowed us to pause and reflect in some locations.

Then he brought us into the inner palace, which did have a small entrance fee. We paid our own and he walked in for free. Perhaps locals get free access. He continued play show and tell. We whispered to each other about compensating this man for his efforts. We thought a few US dollars would be nice.

I wondered where the exit was and how would this tour end. I started to wonder what motivated this man to give such a great tour. He hadn’t asked for anything in return yet.

Next he led us out of the Palace and right into--yep, you guessed it--a batik dealership. The batik dealer inside was complaining out loud, so I could hear, about the Chinese mafia and how it threatens batik sales in Jogja. The dealer reaked of negative energy. I sensed he was a liar. He was a little aggressive in selling his paintings. But they looked so shimmery and shiny--unlike other batiks I’ve seen. I don’t think you’d be able to wash, dry, and iron that. It all felt wrong.

We left without buying anything. I was ready to head back to the hotel. But the tour guide insisted on going to one more place. He took us to a home (maybe his) where a woman and child (maybe his) sold postcards of Jogja. They were all terrible quality and priced at a $1 each. No thank you, sir. And with that, we left--for good. We did not compensate him because we did not want to encourage that behavior with other tourists. If you’re going to give someone a tour, be upfront and honest of your intentions.

We reflected on the today’s controversy. The town seemed rife with multiple layers of batik scams. Was the Chinese Mafia involved? Or was that a scapegoat for another mafia? Were there any legit batik dealers in Jogja? We may never know.

That night we saw an excellent Ramayana performance (similar to that of Ubud, Bali). This one was like a Vegas version--more about the stage, lighting, stunts, and action. Although, the acting was good, the one in Ubud said more with less--with precise body movement, eye contact, and music.