Ivan Shargorodsky - Indonesia, 2024

Indonesia didn’t feel like a walking country to me. I spent time in smaller cities, and they’re built for scooters, not sidewalks. That’s not a minus — just how life runs here. As a traveler-photographer, my favorite places ended up being outside the cities. Nature, temples, open spaces — that’s where the spark was. Inside the cities, I usually felt “one day is enough.”

Yogyakarta

My strongest first impression here wasn’t the city itself — it was the view from our apartment. A volcano would slip out from behind the clouds for a few minutes, and every time it did, it felt big and grand in a way photos never quite catch.

On the ground, Yogyakarta didn’t feel walkable. Moving around on foot seemed unusual, like I was doing it “the wrong way.” People were calm, not overly smiley, English wasn’t common, and even big supermarkets felt pretty limited in range. Still, I had a small win: on my birthday I found a genuinely good cake — a simple thing, but it made the day.

The best moments were outside the city. Prambanan feels sharp and vertical — a whole forest of Hindu spires pointing at the sky. Walk the galleries slowly and the walls start telling you Ramayana scenes; scale and detail fight for your attention, and both win.

Borobudur is the opposite mood — horizontal and steady, like a mountain carved into a mandala. You climb it in quiet loops, terrace by terrace, and it narrows to stone, wind, and those bell-shaped stupas with Buddhas inside. It once disappeared under ash and jungle and was brought back to light — it fits the feeling of the place: patience and endurance.

If you plan to go up Borobudur’s upper levels, there’s a daily quota — tickets are limited, so it’s best to book ahead and go early in the morning to secure your spot.

Prambanan Temple

Sewu Temple

Borobudur Temple

Water Castle of Royal Jogjakarta

Merapi Volcano

Malang

My Malang memory starts with silence. Out by our place, there were no cars, no scooters — just the night and the newts having loud conversations like they owned the dark. After a heavy thunderstorm, the air felt soaked and clean, the kind that makes you breathe deeper without thinking. It was the perfect pocket of calm to step out of the constant buzz.

The city itself didn’t grab me. We were mainly passing through. But Jodipan (the Colorful Village) was worth the stop. I went in the morning, and it wasn’t too crowded — good light, colors that actually read well without burning out. It’s a real neighborhood, people live there, but it’s also clearly a tourist spot, and you can feel that extra attention on you. As a photographer, it’s a different vibe than Chefchaouen in Morocco: Chefchaouen is a whole city and you blend in more; Jodipan is tighter, brighter, and you’re more on display.

Jodipan Colorful Village

Surabaya

My best time in Surabaya was the mangrove forest. Birds overhead, monkeys cutting across the branches, and those odd little fish wriggling on the mud — something between a frog and a fish. Go early, before the heat; the air is softer, the light is kinder, and your photos breathe more. It’s the kind of place where you slow down without trying.

The city itself didn’t land for me. Traffic is heavy, and around that long, famous bridge the area felt dirty and not pleasant to stay in. Compared to bigger Southeast Asian hubs, Surabaya felt rougher and less “European” in everyday habits and cleanliness. Not “bad,” just texture — something to be ready for.

For me, Surabaya worked as a launch pad to nature. The mangroves were the point; the rest I let be background. Sometimes that’s the right call — see the good bit, then move on.

Mangrove Wonorejo

Lonchura leucogastroides