Indonesia’s Cisadon Village: Where Tourists Escape and Locals Call Home
Nestled in the lush hills of West Java, just a few hours from Jakarta, is the village of Cisadon. It’s safe to say that my journey to this secluded place began with little expectation — a simple desire for a scenic escape. But what I discovered was a world far removed from the bustling city, where the daily lives of the locals starkly contrasted with the getaway I had imagined.
The Path Less Traveled
It started with a 9-kilometer hike, a trail NOT for the faint-hearted. It led us through steep slopes, dense forests, and what seemed like an endless rough terrain. The hike was grueling, but the views and the sounds of nature along the way made every step worthwhile.
During the first hour, we were joined by a pair of dogs who seemed to take on the role of guides through the mountains. They trotted ahead, occasionally looking back to make sure we were following. Eventually, they disappeared into the hills, leaving us to navigate the rugged terrain alone.
To this day, I continue to wonder where they went.
The scenery was nothing short of breathtaking. As we hiked, we were treated to expansive views of hills and deep valleys. However, the beauty of the landscape came with its challenges. The trail was narrow, often muddy, and scattered with loose rocks. To our left, a steep drop reminded us to proceed with caution.
And along the way, we found small roadside stalls where we occasionally stopped for ripe bananas and searched for coconuts to regain our energy.
As the sun climbed higher into the sky, marking midday, the sense of remoteness became even more palpable. It took us a total of four hours to finally arrive at our destination, each step feeling more challenging than the last.
It was definitely a contrast from our usual Sunday morning strolls in the city, I must say.
What Lies Beyond the Hills
Arriving at Cisadon village felt like stepping into a folklore. Everything there seemed frozen in time, reminiscent of the stories I heard as a child. In those tales, I imagined the exact rolling hills covered in greenery, coffee plantations spreading across the horizon like a patchwork quilt, and traditional homes nestled in peaceful surroundings.
The village had traditional houses built on stilts with woven bamboo and chunks of wood, standing strong through the years.
Oh, and just beyond the entrance gate lay a pond, its waters reflecting the green hills that surrounded it. The scene was so enchanting that I half-expected to witness a character like Bawang Putih gracefully strolling along the water’s edge, perhaps washing her scarf in the gentle ripples.
I felt like a wide-eyed, curious tourist with my digital camera, capturing everything around me that caught my eye. I just hoped none of the locals noticed the strange girl exploring their yards, as if it were my first time encountering a village. (I promise you, it is not)
And as you get to know me, you’ll come to understand how deeply I treasure these timeless places.
Coffee Beans and Learning by Nature
Yet what appeared magical to my city-weary eyes was the everyday reality for the local villagers. I soon realized that my initial impression was shallow, a mere glance that didn’t capture the whole picture.
I recalled learning about the “zoo approach” in one of my intercultural communication class — an act of viewing other cultures from the surface rather than understanding their true essence. And I didn’t want to be that kind of observer.
Determined to see beyond the surface, I started noticing the details. Like how in front of every home, coffee beans were spread out to dry.
You see, coffee cultivation was the villagers’ main livelihood. They would periodically journey down to the city of Bogor to sell their harvest, not to high-end cafes, but to local markets, continuing a tradition that has endured since the days of the Dutch colonial rule under Johannes van den Bosch.
The village, home to just over a hundred residents, is predominantly inhabited by coffee farmers. They cultivate robusta coffee, suited to altitudes under 800 meters with temperatures ranging from 18 to 36 degrees Celsius.
The coffee plantation began in 1983 when Nini (a pseudonym) and her late husband cleared land in Cisadon for coffee cultivation.
Initially, there were no permanent homes — just shelters for farmers. Over time, these shelters evolved into residential areas as more people engaged in coffee farming.
As of today, coffee farming remains a generational tradition in Cisadon.
While robusta is the primary crop, various processing methods yield different coffee variants such as civet coffee, royal wine coffee, natural coffee, and blended coffee.
For instance, civet or “Luwak” coffee is processed from the excrement of wild civets. Contrary to common belief, the coffee beans ingested by civets are not digested but fermented naturally within the animal, resulting in a smoother flavor preferred by coffee enthusiasts.
Farmers in Cisadon collect scattered civet droppings from their plantations, sun-dry them thoroughly, and then roast the beans traditionally to achieve desired flavors.
What about the farmers’ children? I wondered about their roles while hardworking fathers and mothers toiled in the fields.
I find that life in Cisadon is like a double-edged sword, simultaneously a source of peace and a marker of its residents’ marginalization. Despite the lush surroundings, the village hasn’t received much attention from the government.
Children miss out on education, which is their right by law. They only have a community reading center where they gather on weekends if there are volunteers to teach them.
Because of this, some children go to school in nearby villages and stay with relatives during the week. This village has about 30 households and around 20 children, who miss school due to tough terrain, lack of facilities, and little attention from authorities. They only learn when volunteers visit; otherwise, they spend time exploring nature.
While I admire the peaceful simplicity of life here, I can’t help but feel saddened by the limited educational opportunities for these children.
Shouldn’t they have the chance to explore beyond their village, gain knowledge, and eventually make meaningful contributions to society?
When Reality Slaps You in the Face
The thing is, city dwellers often seek out places like Cisadon to escape the chaos of urban life. And while it’s understandable to crave such serenity, it’s important to recognize the realities faced by the locals.
We visited the village during the day, but what happens when night falls?
One resident shared that charging a cellphone is an extreme luxury; even the village lights flicker due to the minimal electricity generated by a waterwheel hidden behind the hills.
This shifted my view. Suddenly, the notion of “healing” felt out of touch. The villagers’ daily struggles extend beyond what a brief visit can capture. Their lack of resources and the daily struggles with unreliable electricity highlight the contrast between their reality and the temporary escape sought by tourists like myself.
Exploring this gem of a place reminded me that their story is just one among many villages in Indonesia where life unfolds far from what we know. All the comforts we take for granted every day — like reliable electricity, accessible education, and modern conveniences — may be luxuries in places like Cisadon.
I see it as a reminder to cherish our blessings and and understand that many out there face different challenges, yet show incredible strength and simplicity in their daily lives.
And what could be more beautiful than that?
