Public service announcement

This is not a real post, just a public service announcement.
If you want to subscribe to my blog, or Sue's, or any blog on blogspot.com, you need to create a blogger account and sign in (Yes, another account and password! Unless you already have a Google+ account, in which case you just use that.) Once you have an account, you will automatically go to a home screen called a dashboard. Here you can add blogs to your reading list. Whether this will give you an email alert when there is a new post, I'm not able to say. Let me know!

UPDATE

You can now use the "Follow by email" on the right to get email updates. Yay!

Postcard from Majene

After Polewali, Majene is a pleasant surprise. This part of the country is home to the ethnic Mandar people and, without wanting to start a race riot, they are getting my vote so far for the friendliest Sulawesians we've yet met, which is saying something.

We arrived by chartered car on a Wednesday afternoon and went straight to the hotel that had been recommended to us: Villa Bogor Leppe. The hotel stands on a promontory at one end of a long crescent-shaped bay and has fantastic views across the town and waterfront. At least, there are fantastic views from the car park and open air terrace where breakfast is served. For some reason that initially made me incredulous, the rooms in this hotel are a bit cell-like and have only small windows facing the sea — across the carpark. 

A "sea view" room

After a few days I rationalised this as being a way of reducing heat load, which made me feel a bit less grumpy about forking out more than usual — $50 a night. Still, we spent quite a bit of time in the mornings and evenings on the terrace enjoying the view of the fishing boats and the life of the waterfront community below us.

The real sea view, from the terrace

And what a cheerfully rowdy community it seemed to be.

Our first afternoon we headed into town and were surprised to see a little restaurant offering pizzas. Having had many meals of ikan bakar (barbecued fish) and mie goreng, we decided to give it a shot, in retrospect possibly not a good idea for people who come from Brunswick, Australia's pizza capital. What we had at Radja Pizza was some tinned vegetables in a spicy sauce drizzled with mayonnaise on top of a big flat fluffy scone. But it was certainly a change from ikan bakar. We also chatted to a few locals including a young woman wearing a jilbab, called  Citra*, who offered to show us around, and we made a date to catch up a few days later.

Pizza, Majene style

We then headed for the beach, as all good Aussies would do, getting to the waterfront in the late afternoon as the day was cooling down, and walked along the road, with fishermen's houses on one side and their boats moored behind a breakwater on the other. The boats themselves are handsome — narrow wooden craft with outriggers on either side, all painted white, some with small sails, others with motors. 

Majene waterfront

It was the time of day when most of the community were outdoors, the kids playing soccer, volleyball, battling tops, or just cruising around on bikes, and the older generation sitting out in small groups chatting and, in the case of the men, having a cigarette. There was a lovely sense of both the children's freedom to roam and play along the front road and the smaller streets leading off it, and of them being casually supervised by the groups of adults sitting around — a perfect example of the village raising the children.

As in many places we were a novelty, and as we walked continually attracted clumps of children for a bit of English practice, a joke or to pose for a photo. We were struck by the fact that there were plenty of young girls out playing too, which hadn't been the case in other places. 

I tell them "Saya bukan bintang film" ("I'm not a film star"), but it doesn't put them off.

Other pleasant interruptions included a conversation with an older woman and her friends who told us that a group of local sailors were planning to sail one of the traditional boats to France later in the year. At least I'm pretty sure that's what she said! It would be an extraordinary feat.

As we neared the end of the road, we asked one young woman how to get back to the hotel, up on the hill. She assigned a young boy as a guide and we quickly attracted a party of about 25 kids, ranging from 4 or 5 to 8 or 9, leading us through the narrow back streets and up a  steeply sloping path, delighted at their role. As we climbed, the younger ones turned back until we reached the top with the posse of half a dozen of the older boys.

The whole walk, from beginning to end, was just a wonderful experience in being being human. 

The climber and the guides

Going up

Looking back

The next day we met Rini, the daughter of the hotel owner, who offered to take us to Dato Beach, the beach I'd seen on the internet with white sand and clear water. After more than 8 weeks in Sulawesi I was keen to have my first swim in the ocean, like any good Aussie. But we had also promised to meet up with Citra, so headed over to her place in town. The young woman who met us looked totally different to the one we'd met in the pizza place. Her hair was out and she was wearing casual western style clothes (pyjamas?) and, inside her home, bare feet.

Over a late (for her) and second (for us) breakfast, we got chatting and learned that Citra was from Jakarta and was in Majene for a holiday to visit her boyfriend, Agus, who was currently out of town for a few days. We were really surprised when she also said "Oh, I know Rini. Isn't she that short girl from the hotel?", but didn't go on to elaborate. 

After a walk around the city park we said goodbye to Citra and headed back to the hotel. In the late afternoon Rini took us out in her car to Dato Beach. We mentioned Citra.

"Oh, yeah, Citra. I know her."

[Here we are both thinking 'Wow, what a coincidence — the two people we meet in Majene know each other].

"Does she have a boyfriend called Agus?"

"Yes, she does!"

"He used to be my boyfriend."

[Aha, pieces of the jigsaw fit into place!]

"Was she wearing the jilbab?" Rini asked casually. Rini herself dressed in a casual western style.

By now we were at the beach and headed down the track for our first ocean swim in Sulawesi. It's hard to impress Australians when it comes to beaches, but the sand was indeed white and the water was clear and I came away feeling truly refreshed.

Aussies at Dato Beach

That night we headed into town again. After dinner we walked through the night market and ended up near the waterfront again, this time in the city park, or alun alun. Food and drink carts lined the roadway and the vendors had laid out blankets and small tarps on the grass for their customers. Clumps of families, young men and women were scattered around the park, enjoying each other's company and the (non-alcoholic) fruit smoothies, and it all looked so nice we joined them.

On the way back to the hotel, we passed Citra's place and bumped into her sitting outside her house, covered head to foot, including a head scarf, and we said our goodbyes.

The next day were heading for the provincial capital Mamuju so we could save ourselves the long drive back to Makassar by getting a 1-hour flight. We were leaving with a warm inner glow about Majene, its simple pleasures (maybe not the pizza) and the people we'd met, but with a few lingering questions too.

Had Citra always worn a jilbab? Was wearing the jilbab Agus's idea? Was that why Rini and Agus had split up? Are these even appropriate questions to ask?

We'll have to go back to Majene to find out, I guess, and hang out in Radja Pizza.

[*Names have been changed, but not the facts!]

© 2014 Steve Dobney

On the road again

The last 3 weeks have seen the intrepid Sulawesi team embark on another whirlwind tour of the cocoa sites to complete round 1 of the data collection for the cocoa project. This visit has been sandwiched between two important family events requiring trips back to Melbourne: Miles turning 21 and Rosie moving out of home for her first proper job, in Sydney.

Here’s a map of where our travels have taken us since touching down again in Makassar at the end of March.

Wotu, in the northeast, is the closest place Google Maps will recognise to the village of Tarengge, where the Mars research plantation is located. On the northwest coast “Jalan Ahmad Yani” is actually the proper location of Majene, which Google places about 100 km further north. This problem stems from the fact that cities and towns often have the same names as the districts (kecamatan) they lie within. For Victorians, it's like having a town called Gippsland located in Gippsland. It’s something that has caused us a fair bit of confusion when we've asked our drivers "How far to X?", and they reply "Oh, we're already in X".

Returning to familiar places, reconnecting with familiar people, feeling my Indonesian coming more easily — all these things have helped to make this trip more relaxed, despite the business-like pace we have set. Sulawesi is feeling a lot more doable!

Thanks to the cocoa project, we had the services of their driver Anwar for the first part of the trip, so took the opportunity to do a little bit of sightseeing along the way. From Makassar we headed north via Bantimurung National Park, which is famous for a formidable waterfall, limestone caves and butterflies. British naturalist Alfred Wallace spent time in the area, apparently referring to it as “Kingdom of the butterflies”. Unfortunately, most of the beautifully coloured butterflies that you now see in the park are dead under glass, for sale to tourists. Apparently there is a breeding program to try to reintroduce some of the lost species.

On a brighter note, the river is a great place to cool down on a hot day. The day we visited there were lots of teenagers hanging out — young boys testing their bravado under the cascade, girls tubing in the quieter lower reaches — and families with young kids having picnics.

Downstream

Sue and young dudes testing their bravado at Bantimurung.

Here, as elsewhere, we are instant celebrities and pose for numerous photos. "Satu lagi!" ("One more!") is the usual request, as personnel and line-ups change. It's hard to believe that these young people could get any Facebook "likes" for posting photos with a couple of grey-haired Aussies, but who knows ...

We stopped overnight in Palopo, where we opted for the $17 a night Hotel Risma over the $45 a night Platinum. An interesting feature of the Risma is that the rooms have no windows to the outside; they all open off a central lounge, so the view is of other guests smoking. Also, like a couple of other ‘budget’ places we have stayed, the beds come with a fitted sheet and a blanket. Having been caught out before, we now carry our own top sheet which is usually all that’s needed.

In Tarengge we caught up with some of the Mars people we met on our February trip. Sue and I spend three days gathering data on the Mars trial plantation and a nearby farm, rain clouds helping to keep it cooler one day but the other days still ridiculously hot and humid by 11 am. Often we seem to be the only ones out in the sun (mad dogs and Australians …). 

There was a slightly sickening moment when we discovered that some of the special botanists’ tagging tape we had used to tag affected branches on the cocoa trees had been eaten by insects and was almost falling off, so we had to improvise backup tags to try to ensure there will still be something there when we come back in June!

Pod examination at Mars, Tarengge

Leaving Tarengge we detoured off the main road to try to find the coastline. A few kilometres down the road we come to a small fishing village where a group of women are untangling seaweed from the nets used to harvest it, to be used to make agar agar they told us. We are at the top of the Bay of Bone, somewhere as far off my mental world map as I can imagine. The sand is black and the water is the temperature of a bath.

Standing on the top of the bay ... of Bone

Our next destination was Pinrang and Anwar told us the quickest route was via Rantepao in Tana Toraja, so once again we got a tantalising taste of Sulawesi’s most famous region in passing. This time we stopped for more than coffee, though. Anwar took us to the village of Ke’te Kesu’, which has become a tourist park, so I’m unsure whether people still live there or not. Regardless, there are a series of large impressive family tombs ... and more.

The village of Ke’te Kesu’

As we climbed the steps set into the face of the limestone cliff we passed cave tombs and disintegrating coffins spilling out crazy jumbles of bleached bones and skulls. Above our heads were other coffins held by beams set into the cliff face, in various states of dilapidation. Occasionally, skulls and bones must literally fall out of the sky.

Crumbling coffins, boxes of bones

For people who put such a high cultural emphasis on farewelling the dead in elaborate and expensive funeral ceremonies, Torajans seem to have a strange indifference for their remains beyond the grave. Obviously, there’s a lot more to be learnt about this, and I’m looking forward to spending some time doing that and trekking in these mountains later in the year.

In Pinrang we once again stayed at the crazily Bollywood-style Permata Hotel. Anwar left us there to head back to Makassar, but by now we were starting to get the hang of arranging transport in Sulawesi: basically, stand around by the side of the road and you'll be offered a ride. In this case, the hotel owner made a phone call that provided us with two guys who became our ojeks (motorbike taxis) for the next few days. They in turn knew another guy with a car who provided the transport for the next leg — back to Polewali.

The over-the-top Permata Hotel in Pinrang. BYO sheet and sunglasses.

Having written before about the joys and sorrows of Polewali (see Postcards from Polewali #1 and 2), I won’t go into too much detail this time, except to say:

• Yes, we stayed at the Ratih Hotel again. The idea of staying out in the village of Beluak is still attractive, but we were working to a tight schedule and the lure of air-con, a pool and wi-fi was too strong. [Does that sound weak and pathetic?]
• Village life did seem as charming as ever. We spent a very pleasant couple of days traipsing around Pak Syukur’s cocoa farm — essentially his backyard — drinking coffee with him and his wife, and being dinked to and from town by his sons Aswal and Iqbal.

With one more cocoa location to visit, about 30 km further up the highway at Sumarrang, we decided to shift our base from Polewali (not surprised?) and push on to Majene, which would be new territory for us, with only a 25 km trip back to Sumarang. We had heard good things about Majene, including the tantalising fact that there is a beach with white sand. It turned out to be a great decision (stay tuned for "Postcard from Majene").

Words of the week

Indonesians love a good acronym. Here are a few local ones:

Tator: Tana Toraja

Sulsel: Sulawesi Selatan (South Sulawesi)

Sulbar: Sulawesi Barat (West Sulawesi)
Sulselbar: I'm sure you can guess that one
Calpres: Calon presiden (presidential candidate)

Links

Bantimurung National Park

http://notesofnomads.com/bantimurung-national-park-indonesia/

Ke’te Kesu’, Tana Toraja

http://www.indonesia.travel/en/destination/749/the-ancient-village-of-ke-te-kesu-in-the-heart-of-the-toraja-highlands

Sue's blog
http://3-degrees-south.blogspot.com

© 2014 Steve Dobney

Finding Sugar Man in Anreapi

During our 3 days in Polewali we visited the desa (village) of Beluak in the Anreapi district a couple of times. It's about 10 k out of town towards the surrounding hills.

The village itself is very pretty, with traditional South Sulawesi houses (raised up on poles) lining both sides of the street. At the home of the head farmer, Pak Arifin, the kids were busy painting a length of low bamboo fencing in blue and white paint. Looking around, most of the other houses nearby were sporting freshly painted front fences, all blue and white, about half a metre high, and people were generally busy making their street frontages look pretty. We asked about the reason for all the activity, and it turns out there was the local equivalent of a Tidy Town competition coming up, and the residents of Beluak were keen to take out the trophy. 

Beluak main street

In front of Pak Sakur's house was a traditional raised platform (balai balai) with a roof, which is a great place to hang out and watch the passing action (perhaps a stray goat) and catch a cooling breeze. On our first visit, after examining the the trees in a nearby trial planting, I was hanging out on the platform, cooling down and chatting with the young Indonesian drivers. I tried to explain where we were from and what the hell we were doing there. I mentioned our kids and the question of my age came up. Berapa umur Pak? When I replied that I was 54, the two drivers shot each other the kind of look that suggested one of them had just lost a bet. I asked them how old they thought I was. Saya pikir tujuh puluh tujuh, replied the driver. Seventy-seven. God knows I haven't aged well, but that was a blow. I laughed it off as best I could, decided not to tip the driver, and made a mental note to investigate laser dermabrasion options back in Melbourne.

On our return a few days later we visited the cocoa plantation of Pak Arafin, which starts just behind the houses and stretches on up a hillside. Not far along this track we came across the guys harvesting rambutan (see the photo in last week's blog) and got to sample the fruit. [Having since tried durian a couple of times, rambutan is definitely my favourite. Rambutan tastes like banana and garlic custard, but is widely popular, particulary with the blokes. Perhaps it's a sign of gengsi (prestige).]

Rambutan stop

After checking the cocoa growing at the lower levels, our expedition leader Pak Philip asked Pak Arafin to take us further up the track, to see where the cocoa ended and the rainforest began. We climbed for more than an hour through a beautiful landscape of cocoa interwoven with taller trees – coconuts and wild mango (alas, no ripe fruit) – and sweated a bucketload in the process, but the forest edge was still a long way off. We stopped for a breather and to admire the view: in one direction, rice fields stretching towards the coast at Polewali; in the other, cocoa and coconut trees spreading across the hillsides as far as we could see. 

From there on the track became a narrow path traversing the slope. Pak Arifin was leaping ahead effortlessly but I for one was staring to get a tad grumpy and was just asking him as politely as I could “Berapa jauh lagi, Pak?” (“How much further, man?”) when we stumbled round a bend to find a little shack with smoke coming from the roof. 

Inside the gloom was a bare-chested middle-aged man in a sarong, two tiny kittens, and a large wok of yellow liquid gently plopping over a fire. It was surreal, like stumbling across a hermit in his cave. The stuff in the wok turned out to be palm sugar, being reduced to solid form, and sugar man promptly offered us a cup of the work in progress, which was, well ... very sweet. 

Pak Arifin, Peter and the sugar

Sweeeeeeeet!

After a bit of idle chat, we made moves to go, but as we clambered out of the hut one of the corner posts gave way. Sugar man toppled to the ground, was knocked on the head by the falling piece of wood and did a backwards roll down the hill. Needless to say we were all very concerned, but after taking a minute to get his bearings, sugar man assured us he was fine, so we left him with his kittens and started the trip back down. Nearing home, Pak Arifin stripped off his shirt and climbed straight up a 30-foot coconut tree with his machete, which he expertly employed to cut down 4 coconuts. 

About 10 minutes later we were sitting around out the front of his house, recovering with a coconut juice. “So does the sugar man live up there all the time?” we asked Pak Arifin. “No,” he replied, “he lives in that house across the road. He just goes up there every so often for a few days to make some sugar. In fact, he’s over there, at the house next door right now.” Sure enough, there was sugar man, clean shirt and neatly combed hair, chatting with the neighbours like a regular guy.

Fact of the day

Sulawesi was the source of a hair oil that was used by gentlemen in the old days in Europe. To avoid having their good furniture greased up, ladies would place strips of fabric over the backs of their chairs and couches. These pieces of fabric were known as antimacassars.

© 2014 Steve Dobney