Adventures Indonesia

Kalimantan (Borneo)

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North-East Coast: Tarakan, Tanjun Selor and Berau

21-25 June '04

Tarakan

Back in South-East Asia. The boat that took us to Tarakan, our first stop in Indonesia, ran according to Indonesian Standard, that is, rubber time. Once there, the cry "hello mister!!" directed undiscriminating to any foreigner -male or female- warmed our hearts. It seemed everybody was genuinely happy to see us! In the hotel, the bathroom was equipped with a "mandi", a water tub for washing. In this country, showers only come from the heaven!

The tourist office provided us with a real brochure on the city and armed with a list of all "turis objek" in town we went for a stroll. On the list were treasures such as an old Dutch gun, signs of a long tradition of oil production and many war related monuments for Dutch, Australian and Japanese (but not for the Indonesians).

However, the best was our afternoon visit to a small mangrove reserve in town, the home of a troop of "bekantan" (probiscus monkeys) (you can learn more about Indonesian flora & fauna in the "Gateway"). The biggest surprise came when we were about to leave and Fabrice suddenly found himself with a baby-bekantan in his arms! We understood Baby Davy was a 6-days-old orphan, nursed in the reserve. It was a very touching moment!

Tanjun Selor

We went to our next destination, Tanjun Selor, by boat. The trip between the mangrove islands was as good as the final goal of the trip was bad. Upon arrival all hotels were full, another Indonesian Standard.

We ended in a grotty place that was noisy as well. Most people were unfriendly and due to general Muslimism, we could not even celebrate our frustrations with a beer: the town was dry! It all came to climax when at night the skies poured their water over the town and into our beds, because the roof was leaking...

The next morning, however, the sun was shining and we even enjoyed a short visit to the old Kraton: the palace of the local Rajah in times long past. The wooden villa was opened especially for us and we saw a small exhibit of porcelain and earth ware: a remnant Chinese Ming plate siding a memorial cup of the fifty years of reign of the former Dutch queen Wilhelmina; it was very charming. Nonetheless, there was no love lost when we took the bus and moved on to Berau.

Berau

For a town in East Kalimantan, Berau, also called Tanjun Reed, has a lot to offer. Not less than two "kratons" flank the East and West side of the Berau River and there is a Hindu temple.

In town, we found out that several Indonesians still spoke Dutch. The most impressive of them was without doubt the 84-year-old daughter of the last Rajah of Gunung Tabur, on the West bank of the river. She invited us for lemonade and cookies when we wanted to visit the Gunung Tabur Kraton. She still spoke fluently Dutch and without accent despite her age and lack of practice. She showed us her picture album with relics of her past: yellowing pictures of Rajah's with turbans, planters and the captain of the boat to Samarinda, apparently a family favourite. Besides, she managed to open up the museum in the Kraton for us, which had an amazing large and broad collection of things.

After Tanjun Selor, we had to celebrate our escape from that town with a beer, which we shared with a couple of anthropologists and others trying to save the last trees on the quickly deforesting island. We got some useful hints about where to go after Berau.

Initially we thought we would be restricted to a long and dull bus or boat trip to Samarinda, but now we started planning some wild Orang Utan sighting along the Kelai River. This was not very easy: the information we could gather was poor and controversial, but in the end, we set off for the adventure.

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Kelai River and Miao Baru

26-28 June '04

From Berau we jumped in a bus that dropped us to a junction near the village of Long Gi where we would be able to hire a boat for a trip upriver (all this according to the tourist information office). The bus dropped us in the middle of nowhere, but there was a small "toko" (shop) in which we felt like a hair in the soup when we asked for info over Long Gi, and how to get there. We finally managed to find a motor-biker who was willing to drop us off in the village (for a generous fee). There, we stayed in the local "losmen" (guesthouse), where the "mandi" (bathroom) was the river.

The village was not interesting at all and we rapidly found out that if we wanted to go far upriver (into the real jungle, to the Orang Utans), you had to be very rich. So we left as fast as possible, a bit deceived of course, but no, our pockets are not filled with hundreds of dollars.

With lots of luck, we found a minivan driving south that was willing to take us to our next destination, Wahau (again for a very generous fee). Transportation in these parts of Kalimantan is very scarce, and the few vehicles ask a lot of money, especially to the foreigners like us. We thought the driver dropped us in Wahau, but after dumping our stuff in a small "losmen", we realised that we were not in Wahau at all, but fifteen kilometres away from there; we were in Kombeng! Anyway, after a small talk with a friendly local, we learned that the neighbouring village of Miau Baru was eventually worth a visit, so off we went. And what a good surprise that was! Barely mentioned in the guidebooks, Miau Baru is really a great authentic Dayak village (Kayan tribe) with an impressive "lamin" (a ceremonial longhouse), huge totems, spectacular woodcarving, and long-ear women (ears hanging like stretched marshmallows).

The next morning we jumped into a nightmare bus to Samarinda: no space for our legs and 10-hour trip on one of the worst roads up to now in our long world trip.

Travelling in Kalimantan is really, really tiring!

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Samarinda and the Mahakam River

29 June - 02 July '04

Exhausted after that very tiring journey on the bus, we were even more in despair when we noticed that all hotels in Samarinda were full! We had to visit seven of them to finally find a room that will be remembered as the worse quality/price ratio room of our trip.

There was not much to do in Samarinda, the most interesting being located up the Sungai (river) Mahakam. It was of course possible to make the upriver trip all by ourselves; but after the first very tiring week in Kalimantan, we decided we would this time take a guide and follow him dully everywhere he would take us. Guides in Samarinda are easy to find (they find you first actually) and after talking to two of them, we chose for the quiet and friendly Suryadi. We made a good deal for a little all-in tour on the rivers and lakes around Samarinda. We mainly travelled by boat from village to village and stopped overnight in local losmen.

The first interesting village we wanted to visit was Muara Muntai, built along the river, with wooden walkways and stilt houses. However, really a bad surprise and a shock: two days ago, the whole village had burnt down, it was all gone and nothing left, leaving two-hundred families homeless! The ashes were still smoking and it looked really depressing! We went to visit the rescue centre and the only and best thing we could do was to give a donation to the unfortunate villagers.

We also visited the two "Banuaq" (another tribe) villages of Tanjung Isuy and Macong with old authentic quot;laminquot; and a unique two-storey longhouse.

During our trip on the rivers, we encountered some of Kalimantan wildlife: many kingfishers, monkeys (trying to steal the fishes from the fishermen's nets), but we did not have the luck to spot the very rare river dolphins (we have already seen them in Cambodia, in the Mekong, so it was alright).

We finished the tour with the very deceiving village of Pampang, an artificial "authentic" Dayak village, special for tourists, where the long-ear women can be taken in photo against a generous fee. A tourist trap! Anyway, the tour was all in all ok, and certainly relaxing: just follow the guide.

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Balikpapan

03-07 July '04

The only people who seem to come to Balikpapan, are probably working in the oil industry. But not us! This none-too-exciting oil town is included in Cornelia's list because her mother lived here in her youth. Maybe some remains of those days could still be discovered!

Sponsored by the mother in question, we took a top hotel that satisfied all our needs and more: satellite TV, French cuisine, a swimming pool and an overdressed midget opening doors for us. While catching our breath from our previous adventures, we could do some investigation in town and await the elections: the 5^th of July would be a very big day for Indonesia. The people of the archipelago would vote directly for their president, an event un-preceded. Before continuing our journey, we wanted to be sure people didn't get over-excited and would start head hunting again!

During the time we spent in the hotel, we unfortunately did not spend a lot of time at the poolside: our days were filled with boat tickets, post-packages and Internet, if we were not visiting the "old" part of town. Being an important old town, Balikpapan was bombed thoroughly during the second World War. According to the legends, only two stilted, wooden houses survived the bombing. After the war, the refinery was rebuilt again, including the residential area for the refinery's employees with churches, tennis-courts and the "societeit", the club.

A visit to the old residential area gave some nice surprises. We walked around and finally found to our big surprise, the stilted houses. In one of those, Cornelia's mum once lived and ran around with long blond curls and a loose front tooth! Furthermore, there was a church, the tennis courts, still in use and the ruins of what once was a small pavilion near to where the societeit must have been. It was a very successful mission!

On the 5^th of July, in the afternoon, while visiting the "old" neighbourhood, we were welcomed at the counting of the votes in one of the many voting stations throughout the city. The counting was done in public, while many people would keep score and all remained calm that day. At night, in front of our TV, we saw rare shots of the voting in Papua where indigenous people with bones through their noses, spears in hand, in traditional "jungle" dress, lined up in a field next to a voting station in the middle of nowhere!

On the last night in our luxurious hotel we wined and dined in the French restaurant, featuring a real French chef. Diner was nice, but Cornelia somehow spent the entire night between the marble and the porcelain of the bathroom. This was particularly well planned, because the next day we would make a large boat trip from Kalimantan to Sulawesi.

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The Pelni vessel MV Nggapulu

07-08 July '04

The Nggapulu, a ship from the ferry company "Pelni", would carry us from Balikpapan to Pantaloan, the port of the larger town of Palu, in Central Sulawesi.

For those doing hardcore travel on a tight budget in Indonesia, the name "Pelni" will bring back memories, some good, most probably not. Pelni is the ferry company connecting the larger islands in Indonesia, with seventeen ships running on a 2-weekly schedule. With several routes running only infrequently, the boat schedules dominated much of our program in Indonesia.

The trip promised to be adventurous. For a start, the boat arrived several hours late, shifting our time of arrival in Pantaloan to a convenient 3 AM. We were delighted. We waited in the terminal amidst a thousand Indonesians, who were camping on plastic sheets in the waiting halls. We did not know that this was a good initiation in the genuine Pelni experience...

Finally boarding time came. We watched the battle on the gangway and waited for the troops to invade the vessel. Porters with washing machines on their heads proved quite a match to mothers with babies on their backs! Because we thought we could not compete with these possessed masses we waited until the heat was over before boarding ourselves.

The Nggapulu is a brand new boat, dated 2002. She holds one-hundred cabins for the "more luxurious" passengers and over two-thousand beds for "hoi polloi" in large sleeping halls: the modern version of deck-class. Practice is that probably nobody really knows how many people are aboard and all beds, all corridors and halls are turned into camping grounds. Many people live for several days on the boat and they make themselves at home. An attraction to the vessel is the huge mosque on board, and the mountain of shoes next to the door during praying time; how do they find back their own shoes? The mosque is equipped with a compass guided "Kiblat", the praying direction, commonly found on the ceiling of hotel-rooms.

Being novices to the Pelni experience, we did not know the bed numbers were, as a steward explained smiling: "...theoretical. Practice is different". Because we arrived late on board, it took us two hours, a friendly steward and some abuse of our "me foreigner and also very ill" statement before we acquired two mattresses and a little corner in a corridor, where Cornelia could sleep off her belly troubles.

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Sulawesi (Celebes)

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Palu

08-09 July '04

Upon arrival in Pantaloan, at three o'clock in the morning, there was a huge choice of bemo (minivan), bis (bus) and ojek (scooter) to bring us to Palu. The arrival of the boat is a big event here, even in the middle of the night! Our bemo helped us to scan the city for a hotel that was open and not full which was quite a task; at 5 AM we crashed in a bed.

Palu lies at the coast, where a huge valley turns into a broad sea-arm. The setting is very beautiful and we enjoyed the Central Sulawesi Provincial Museum, but our main business was to prepare our next trip. We wanted to do trekking through the Lore Lindu National Park and needed permits. It took a while to get them but in the end, we were the proud possessors of a signed and stamped paper and a stack of copies which we could offer to please the park-gods. Moreover, we also obtained the usual amount of confusing and contradicting information from various sources, but not the map we were looking for. On the 10^th of July we hit the road again.

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Palu, Lore Lindu National Park and the Bada Valley

10-14 July '04

The Lore Lindu National Park is not a very popular tourist attraction on Sulawesi, but for us, it will certainly remain as one of the highlights of our trip on the island, and even in Indonesia. The trekking we did on donkey tracks through the very remote villages located in lush valleys, with old megaliths and a very rich bird life, was amazing.

To observe the wildlife, we were in fact quite lucky: in the Kijiang (the local jeep used for public transport) that brought us from Palu to Gimpu, we met a team of ornithologists. They allowed us to join them on their daily survey of the area: from 5 AM till noon, we followed them through the jungle, counting, listening, and observing hundreds of different birds. We would walk for five-hundred meters and then stop for ten minutes to register all the birds we would see... or rather hear. Our friend Idris could from a very weak whistle far away give us the Indonesian, the English, and sometimes even the scientific name of the bird; then he would show it to us in his detailed book. Very, very impressive, but very tiring: Gimpu was located five-hundred meter high, and we walked through the jungle to a final altitude of twelve-hundred meters. Our favourites and the most impressive birds were the huge hornbills, flying in groups of five or six, and barking like dogs (you can learn more about Indonesian flora & fauna in the "Gateway").

From Gimpu, we headed, via Moa, for Tuare further south, following a donkey track (the only way to reach the villages). We of course looked for a donkey to get there some thirty kilometres) but unfortunately, we soon found out that all the donkeys and horses had been replaced by Honda's. So we hired two motorbikes with drivers, and arrived in Tuare five hours later, with very very painful buttocks: the track was very bumpy, crossing rivers and deep gullies, up and down, and up and down. When it was too steep we had to push the motorbike with the backpacks, or run next to it.

In Tuare, we stayed in the house of the chief of the village ("kepala desa") who had arranged three wonderful bedrooms for guests, with a fantastic view of the valley, the rice fields and the river.

From Tuare, we walked with all our backpacks (about fifteen kilometres) to Gintu, located in the wonderful Bada Valley, where we, with a guide, went hunting for centuries old megaliths, crossing rivers on bamboo rafts or hanging jungle bridges.

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Poso Lake and Polopo

15-17 July '04

After the four very pleasant, refreshing, green days spent in the Lore Lindu Park, it was time to hit the road again, so in the morning of the 15^th of July, we jumped, with six other passengers, in a Land Rover that brought us to Tentena, along the Poso Lake. And here we give the first prize of the worst road we ever, ever travelled on: the Gintu-Tentena mountain track. Up and down the mountain we went (highest point nineteen-hundred meters of altitude), through rivers, climbing almost vertical riverbeds, cliffs, pfffff! It was a real camel trophy experience (we think in fact that the driver would easily win the Trophy, he does this 4-hour road back and forth everyday!).

Tentena is a quite unattractive town next to the Poso Lake, located in the very unstable region of Poso. Just two words on the situation here: since a couple of years now, a conflict is opposing the Christian community to the Muslims. While we where there it was just quiet, despite the fact that we noticed that a few houses were burned out and more impressively, the large mosque was completely destroyed. When talking to locals, you could feel the tension, and the Christians were happy to say they had now kicked the Muslims out (we in fact heard that two weeks after our passage there, the conflict had started again: dead were reported in Palu!).

From Tentena, we took a lively boat to Pendolo across the Poso Lake. People were playing guitar and kids were singing along, straight from the heart. It was a fantastic and beautiful spectacle and this trip will be remembered as one of the most happy trips we made.

In Pendolo, Cornelia managed to stop a bus passing by, and off we went in the direction of Polopo, through high mountains (highest peak above the tree-thousand meters) and great scenery. Along the coast, huge flying bats (called locally flying dogs) got out at sunset and started to darken the sky: a spectacle Cornelia could not stop admiring. In Polopo, we strolled around the harbour to watch some traditional Bugis boats. The town is full of Muslims and Fab did not feel at ease when walking around. They shouted at us:"Americans terrorists" and arrested us to ask if we had the permission to take photos. When we said that we where not Americans, everything was ok, but still!

In the afternoon, we took the bus to Rantepao, the nervous centre of the famous Toraja region.

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Tana Toraja

17-19 July '04

Freewheeling

The Tana Toraja is renowned for its cultural riches, but all seems related to death and the morbid main attraction consists of funerals. For the Toraja, the funeral initiates the voyage to the hereafter and this has to be well prepared. People are embalmed after their death to await the final funeral that may take place months or even years later. During that time the families gather money and prepare the funeral, an event that takes days and costs a fortune. Nonetheless, a family rather ruins itself than not bury a family member properly!

The most obvious place from which the valley can be explored is Rantepao. It is a small city with many guides, special tourist prices and a lack of tourists since the Bali-bomb. For a start we explored the region on our own. On a scooter we roamed the roads, finding all sorts of attractions. We saw the traditional houses with their top-heavy roofs, now only used to conduct funerals. We saw family graves in all sorts and forms: engraved coffins, overloaded with skeletons, hanging from cliff faces; coffins in grottos and grave chambers hacked out in boulders. We saw megaliths erected for the deceased and "baby trees": large trees in which stillborn babies are buried to continue their "life" in the growing tree!

We enjoyed driving around the mountain valleys, the wind in our hair, and the refreshing smell of pine trees! We had lunch in an eatery, which was quite an adventure as well. Two older red-eyed gentlemen with palm wine on their breath ended up singing the "Wilhelmus", the Dutch national hymn, when they heard of our origin. It was the Indonesian version and obviously, the lyrics did not glorify the Netherlands as much as the original!

Funeral excursion

A second visit into the Tana Toraja was in the form of an excursion with guide. The original guide, Petrus, gave a bad performance, sleeping in the back of the car all the time, but his "assistant" Markus earned the prize of super guide. He explained everything we could think of and more. For a start we went to the cattle market in Bogu, the biggest in Sulawesi. This is, again, because of the traditional burial rites. Offerings of pigs and "karbau" (water buffalo) are compulsory for a decent funeral and the more, the better. This we would witness live, later that day.

In Kamiroan, an old lady of a family of means would be buried and we went there to see a part of the funeral ceremony. This day, the deceased would be carried around the village during a procession, called the "Pasonglo" and brought to the "Plakean", a little shelter where she would stay for the next days. After the "Pasonglo", the guests would be officially welcomed by the family and present their offerings. This funeral was a big one, and when the Toraja say big, it means huge! Guests flocked in from all over Torajaland and to be able to receive them properly, at least sixty temporary shelters had built from bamboo. We, tourists, were stationed in a good shelter from which we had better sight than many other people had. We also gave presents, sugar, flower and more, but we did not take part in the ceremonies.

Judging from the puddles of blood on the little square in between the traditional houses, a sacrifice of water buffalo had taken place already. Everything seemed to go slowly and there was room for improvisation: when the program had to stop due to heavy rainfall, a priest was called to give a mass; this can be done in the rain! Despite the wild funeral rituals, the Toraja are very Christian people! After the rain, the "Pasonglo" started and the coffin was carried around the village on the backs of thirty young men. These guys, probably grandchildren and nephews, got very excited and started a crazy tug-of-war over Granny! It was most peculiar. The coffin and the construction it was carried in, fell about every five minutes to the ground and Grannies bones must have been rattling in the coffin! But finally she was placed in the "Plakean" and the guests could be welcomed.

First the presents were presented, and then the guests followed. The presents of the first delegation consisted of one Buffalo and six pigs, a small fortune (enough to make a world trip we calculated). All these animals will be sacrificed to accompany the deceased. We counted another five buffalo's and probably some thirty pigs waiting their ordeal. Tomorrow, more guests were due to arrive, with more cattle, and more butchery. This explains the size of the cattle market, as well as the outrageous prices asked for the animals.

Of course we were no the only tourists around. We were deeply ashamed to see people forcing their way into ceremonial activities for a nice home video or picture, regardless of the people who were trying to burry their dead! We tried to be as discrete as possible, that is, if there is any discretion in visiting a funeral as a tourist.... Although it was very impressive and sometimes even entertaining, this was definitely the last time we did a tour (how often did we say that before?).

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Makassar

20-21 July '04

The last time we took a night bus was in Myanmar; we had then promised ourselves that it would be the last time ever in our lives, but no! Our boat to Flores was leaving in two days, and we could not afford missing it: there was only one every two weeks! Moreover, we wanted to see something of Makassar, so yes, let it be the night bus! To our huge surprise the one bus was the most luxurious we had never taken. A five stars bus with lots of space for the legs and seats that went almost in a horizontal position. That was all right, we even slept a bit!

We spent some time visiting Makassar, especially Fort Rotterdam, and old and wonderfully preserved Dutch fortress. Walking in the fortress was like walking somewhere in Holland, with the same good old houses, and Cornelia was really feeling back home. We also visited, accompanied by hundreds of kids, the old harbour where huge and beautiful traditional Bugis fishing boats ("Boogie-boats") were anchored.

One night, we ran into a New Yorker, Chris, who invited us the next day for a coffee on his sailboat, the Tidak Apapa: a traditional Bugis sailboat he has made built in a small village, with 100% traditional method. We enjoyed it a lot, before our departure to Flores.

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The Pelni vessel MV Awu

21-22 July '04

Having survived the Nggapulu on our first Pelni boat trip we thought the Awu would be a piece of cake. The Awu, a vessel for not yet thousand passengers would be our home for tewnty-four hours on our journey from Makassar to Maumere, Flores. We arrived a bit late, but the boat seemed in no hurry to leave either. With relative ease we found ourselves a quiet spot outside on the deck. It was in the shade and out of the wind, underneath a lifeboat that badly needed a pit stop and we hoped it would not rain.

One glance inside the boat was enough to confirm our fears: unlike the Nggapulu, the Awu is fifteen years old and thoroughly worn out by the millions she carried in her belly. We were determined not to go inside, if it was not for going to the shop or the toilet, the latter being a hazard zone to be avoided at all costs. And each time inside, we were shocked by the scene in the ekonomi-decks: the place looked more like a refugee-camp than a ferryboat! Somehow, the few attempts to clean only seemed to make things worse! But it did not rain and we were content to sleep under the stars, far away from the campsite where the old and the young mix with the food and the cockroaches.

Although it did not rain and on deck it was not such an ordeal, we were glad to arrive in Maumere and eager to leave the Awu. This was only possible after the porters came onto the boat. While the passengers were told back, they came in, roaring, their eyes rolling in their heads, like the bulls in Pamplona. We have never seen people so eager to break their backs! Once we were outside, we saw that walls and gates had to keep people from storming the vessel. Many people had started climbing these barriers, hoping for an acceptable place on board. We did not wait to see the boarding scene, but maybe fifty people came off the boat, that seemed rather full already, and some five-hundred were hoping to enter! We were grateful to be ashore and still wonder if the Awu made it to her next destination, or if she sank right away in Maumere's port...

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Nusa Tenggara Timor (Eastern Lesser Sunda Islands)

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Flores: Kelimutu, Riung and Ende

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West Timor: Kupang and Soe

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