IMAGES: Lonely Planet; Getty Images; Corbis

Becak drivers weave through traffic on the streets of Jogja

Learn how to live like a Sultan at the Kraton

The iconic wayang kulit shadow puppet show is an exercise in timing and mimicry

Ramayana performerances are a mainstay of evening entertainment

BEYOND BOROBUDUR: JOGJA REMIXED

A MAP OF THE PAST, AND A PLAN FOR THE FUTURE.

MARK NEWTON FINDS EVEN MORE THAN HE EXPECTS FROM A WEEK IN JOGJAKARTA

It’s twilight in Jogja and my girlfriend and I are on a bicycle rickshaw, or becak, dodging through rush-hour traffic. The warm breeze is scented with cloves, diesel and fried garlic. Headlights dazzle our eyes as vehicles rush at us head-on, missing by a whisker. In any other place I would be panicking. But Jogja has a spell-like effect on us. We sink back into the bucket seat, clinging to each other tightly.

Our chariot grinds to a halt at the kind of urban park I played in as a child. Yet through the trees, the sharp, spiked silhouettes of the ancient Prambanan Hindu temple rise dramatically against the night sky. Here in sparkling gold and blood-red hues, a feverish Ramayana performance is unfolding – more than 200 dancers performing Java’s answer to Shakespeare under the open night sky. For drama and ambience, it’s a spectacle that even London’s Globe Theatre would struggle to match.

Sandwiched between Mount Merapi and the Indian Ocean, Jogja is a thriving low-rise city that never lost its village soul. This cradle of culture is too often viewed as a stop-off point to the Borobudur temples. Having spent eight days here, I can testify that for those daring enough to jump on a becak and throw caution to the wind, Jogja’s spell is easily cast.

First, visit the Kraton or Sultan’s Palace, for an otherworldly step into Asia’s dramatic past of shifting kingdoms, sultans and sword-fights. Then wander the Kraton compound, where a maze of shops selling local crafts share the space with schools, mosques and barbers.

Visit the Wayang Kulit Workshop for some of the finest shadow puppets in Java. The puppets are meticulously cut and fashioned by hand from buffalo leather, then painted in intricate detail. Hold it to the light for the real beauty of the craft – the personality of the puppet comes alive in each carefully punched hole and detail.

Played out on a backlit screen, the evening wayang kulit shows are enchanting. Shows are directed and performed by the dalang, who acts as puppeteer for up to 20 puppets, gamelan (orchestra) director and character impersonator all in one, portraying mystical stories with deft hands and quick movements. With his right foot, the dalang bangs a symbol, reflecting the movements of characters and the ebbs and flows of the story.

Once your stomach starts to growl, try one of the many Masakan Padang restaurants. Masakan Padang may not be Jogja’s indigenous cuisine, but it has been perfected here. The food is whisked in front of you in a blur of activity, as you choose from rich curries, barbecued meat and fresh vegetables. At the end, just pay for the dishes you ate. It’s dangerous on the waistline, but very satisfying.

Next morning, explore Jogja’s quiet silver district, Kota Gede, its workshops laden with hand-beaten bowls, filigree and modern jewellery. Later, drop into one of Jogja’s best restaurants, Omar Duwur. Set amid colonial stylings is a fresh and modern take on Javanese cuisine. Then for more romance, hire a horse-drawn carriage, for a day-time visit to Prambanan. The largest Hindu temple in Java, much of this complex has collapsed many times over and been reconstructed. Yet it never disappoints as you explore the gothic-like temple design, with stirring stories carved along the walls of its narrow passageways.

No visit to Jogja is complete without a day-trip to Gunung Merapi. Still active, the mountain is home to a few trekking routes. Or just drive to the middle of the volcano and trek through the trees for unique views of the smoking cauldron.

This final memory of Jogja is my strongest. On a mild mid-afternoon in the countryside, my moment has arrived. The mood has been set so perfectly by our holiday that I decide to add Jogja to my own family mythology, and ask my girlfriend to become my wife.

Fortunately for both this story and my own, she says yes. We sit, staring at the padi fields in the middle distance, thinking about our future. No moment again will be quite like this one. Fortunately, this timeless place will remain essentially the same, waiting for our return.