That morning, I did something I hadn’t done before You know that feeling when you’re stuck in your usual routine, I took the high-speed train from Solo to Yogyakarta. As someone who’s made this trip countless times on regular trains or buses, I was curious. Would it really be that different? Faster, sure but would it feel special? I thought, “Screw it, let’s try it first for once.”
I bought my ticket online the night before, opting for the 7 AM departure. The idea of zipping through the countryside in half the usual time while lounging in comfort was too good to pass up. Packing was easy just a change of clothes, my laptop, a book I’d been meaning to read, and, of course, my phone and camera. I set my alarm for 5:30 AM, half-excited, half-wondering if I’d regret losing sleep for this. Alarm went off at 5:30 AM. I may have hit snooze… twice. You know that panicked scramble when you realize you actually have to get up? That was me, tripping over my own shoes while trying to brush my teeth simultaneously. Grabbed the world’s saddest breakfast (stale crackers and instant coffee) and bolted out the door.
The city was still asleep when I left my house. The streets were quiet, the air cool. My ride arrived quickly, The Gojek driver gave me that look—the one that says “I can see you’re not a morning person.” Can’t blame him; I was doing that awkward backseat dance of trying to put on socks while the bike was moving. and before I knew it, I was standing at Solo Balapan Station. My first time going to this place is “Oh I thought its going to be crowdy” and now The place looked sharper than I remembered brighter lights, cleaner floors, digital screens everywhere. The staff waved me through security with a smile, and I found myself in a spacious waiting area filled with other travelers. A little boy nearby tugged at his mother’s sleeve, asking, “How fast does the train go, Mama?” She laughed and said, “Faster than a race car!” His eyes lit up. Mine probably did too.
At 6:45 AM, the announcement crackled over the speakers: boarding time. Outside, the train Argo Dwipangga gleamed under the station lights, its red-and-white body sleek as a bullet. Then I saw the train. Damn. This thing looked like it belonged in a sci-fi movie all sleek and red like a giant bullet. Took approximately 42 photos from every angle (don’t judge, my Instagram needed content). Inside was even better: seats wider than my bed, perfect AC (not the usual train freezer setting), and praise the travel gods power outlets I snapped a quick photo (for Instagram, obviously). The cabin was spotless, the seats wide and cushioned, with power outlets and USB ports tucked neatly beside each one. A flight attendant no, a train attendant greeted passengers as they settled in. I sank into my window seat, already impressed.
At exactly 7 AM, the train glided forward, so smoothly I barely felt it. Within minutes, Solo’s cityscape melted into emerald rice fields and tiny villages. The speedometer on the display hit 300 km/h, but the ride was eerily quiet no rattling, no jerks, just the world blurring past the window. I tried reading my book, but the view stole my attention. It was like watching Java scroll by on fast-forward.
The strangest part? The trip gave me time to think. Lately, life had been a whirlwind of deadlines and errands, but here, hurtling through the countryside at 300 km/h, I finally slowed down. The rhythm of the tracks, the green flying past—it was weirdly peaceful.
Before I knew it, we were pulling into Jogja. 45 minutes. That’s it. Normally that’s just enough time to get properly annoyed by someone’s crying baby on the regular train. By 7:45 AM, we were pulling into Yogyakarta. The station was a mix of modern glass and traditional Javanese curves, a perfect mirror of the city itself. I stepped onto the platform, oddly refreshed, and headed straight for Malioboro. The street was already buzzing, the air thick with the smell of sizzling satay and the clang of gamelan music. I bought a cup of kopi jawa from a street vendor, the bitter-sweet taste grounding me in the moment.
Stepped out into that familiar Jogja humidity hit me like a warm hug. The station smelled like kretek cigarettes and something frying—comforting in its own way. Got immediately scammed by a becak driver who charged me triple (some traditions never die).
Spent the day doing the essential Jogja things:
- Ate gudeg until I couldn’t move
- Got lost in Malioboro’s chaos
- Tried that blindfolded tree-walking thing at Alun-Alun Kidul (almost face-planted)
- Bought batik I’ll probably never wear
The highlight? Sitting at a tiny warung, sweaty and happy, eating the spiciest sambal known to man while watching the world go by. That’s the real Jogja experience.
On the way back, I actually opened my laptop. Not because I’m responsible—just because the ride was so smooth I couldn’t use “train turbulence” as an excuse anymore.
Pulled back into Solo just as the sun was setting, feeling that perfect mix of exhaustion and contentment. You know that feeling when a day trip actually feels like a proper adventure? That.
Final thoughts:
- The high-speed train is 100% worth it
- I will never learn to charge my phone in advance
- Jogja still has the best street food
- I’m definitely doing this again next weekend
- and im goin to invite my friends
- ALL OF MY FRIENDS AND FAMILY!
The rest of the day was a blur of batik workshops, palace tours, and gudeg so tender it fell off the bone. By sunset, I was back at the station for the return trip, flipping through my camera roll and grinning. The high-speed train hadn’t just saved me time it’d made the journey fun. And my conclusion is I think everyone should try to use high speed train for 1 time at least.
As we sped back to Solo, I scribbled in my journal: Sometimes, getting there is half the adventure. And sometimes, the train makes it even better.
By: Neva Dzaky Putrayaska
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