Makassar

We love Makassar.  Actually we have barely seen one bit of it.  After the weeks of traveling, we decided we would find a nice place and vegetate among comfortable, modern conveniences for a few days.  Many hotels are offering a Ramadan promotion, so for 40 bucks we’ve been enjoying TV, the swimming pool, free breakfast and dinner, and all the amenities.

Turnaround in Toraja

It took a long time to get there.  After spending most of the day on a boat, bus, airplane, or airport, we finally landed in Makassar, Sulawesi.  We waded through the ubiquitous flurry of disorienting cabbies and other assorted “friendlies,” and ended up at a forlorn bus terminal, somewhere.  I had called earlier that afternoon to make a reservation on the 10pm bus, and lo and behold, it would have been full if not for that phone call.  Rather than the sticky humid, mosquito riddled darkness, we chugged along the next eight hours in a full coach, air conditioning on freeze and music on full blast.  It seemed quiet and dark outside.

At daybreak, we rolled into Tana Toraja, a thin veil of white mist rising over the damp rice fields and the grey of the surrounding mountains.  We slept about one and a half hours at the first acceptable place – 120,000 Rupiah (take off all the zeroes for dollars).  Here, guides find you quickly, and by 8:15am we were in a car to see what we had come all this way for. 

After walking through the once-every-six-day market in Bolu, we visited the impressive buffalo and pig market.  The immense creatures go for the equivalent of several thousand dollars, and the special ones for much more.  The partially albino “pink-whites” with blue eyes, grey spots, thick necks, large horns, and long tails are highly prized.  The animals are used for ritual slaughter during the elaborate funeral ceremonies and neither for domestic duties nor consumption.  They’re hand-fed grasses and washed regularly.

People come to see the Torajans and their unbelievable funeral ceremonies and customs.  Legacy is everything and they put the equivalent into these elaborate celebrations.  When someone dies, the body is embalmed in leaves and kept in the house until the family collects enough for the burial.  Relatives, as well as the entire village, convene for the three-day occasion.  Temporary lodgings are constructed, rituals are held, and buffaloes are slaughtered, as many as the family can afford.  The meat is then distributed among the guests, after which the body is finally placed inside a carved-out cave.

We hiked up through a splendid scene of terraced rice fields and attended one such funeral ceremony.  The Torajans are friendly and hospitable, so it was no problem.  The person celebrated was over 100 years old and had died 5 months prior.   We had brought a gift of cigarettes – not exactly what a pulmonologist should offer, but some consider this one of the best casual gestures of enmity…  It felt surreal to watch the slaughtered buffaloes being chopped up in the dirt under the hot sun.  Pieces were then tossed over to the recipient, usually the only meat eaten by the average person.  The women came out only to serve coffee and later rice and greens with chopped liver.  After a conversation with the village chief and the church service, we headed off. 

At the next place, we joined a crowd observing a coffin raised up a steep hill, to be placed inside a rock cave.  We continued through a few villages with their peculiar tongkanons, houses with an exaggeratedly curved roof, evocative of either buffalo horns or the boats that their ancestors arrived in.  At the day’s conclusion, our guide excitedly took us to another pre-funeral activity, cock fighting.  To confirm my previous notion, it was macabre and cruel.

Rantepao, the town we had stayed in was fairly rinky-dink and the food was not good (in case you were waiting for the usual cuisine report).  We had witnessed a “slice” of Toraja, so 30 hours after arrival, we caught the next bus back.  Ten uncomfortable butt numbing hours – scenes of rice terraces, corn fields, mountains, and a hundred packed mosques.  Dropped off at some other bus terminal at 10:30pm.      

Pictures posted

Island Hopping?

Gili Trewangan is one of a chain of three tiny reef islands just off West Lombok in Nusa Tenggara.  The thing about these islands is that you have to get there and then get off. .  During one of the stops, the bus actually took off without us (backpacks still on board), as we had walked off to get some food.  When does anything here ever leave on schedule?  Sheesh…  Luckily the distance was short and we caught up at the harbor. A one-hour diesel-fumed bus ride was followed by an agonizingly slow four-hour boat crossing in rough swells.  We arrived at night and had to wade to shore from the small tender boat. 

Once there, the island was beautiful.  Relatively quiet, again due to Ramadan, the place was also free of any motorized traffic.  Transport was on foot, by bicycle, or cidomo, a horse-drawn cart.  We walked around the entire island in about two hours.  A thin strip of white sand beach and turquoise waters surrounded the land, as did a ring of coral reefs that quickly dropped off to blue water.  It was wonderful to simply walk out, put on the snorkeling gear, and marvel at the abundant sea-life, minutes from the room.  The amount of fish was stunning – we saw many tortoises, an octopus, and even big schools of mackerel and yellowtail, close up and without scuba gear.  Once out of the water, we returned to the bungalow to shower off in salty tap water.  Martas Guesthouse provided amazing accommodation, with 2-story bungalows, huge comfortable beds, and comfortable décor.  There was a nice porch with a big daybed -- hard to leave if not for the ocean.

It sounded as if we stayed very close to a mosque (in truth practically every spot on the island was close).  Day and night you could hear the prayer calls and wailing, most notably from about 9pm well past midnight, and then again at 4:30am.  Late to bed, early to rise.

The food tended to cater mostly to the travellers and backpackers, with pastas and even Mexican food on the menu. (Questionable offering, easy to pass up…) That stated, the seafood was hard to pass up.  Fresh lobster, prawns, tuna, mahi-mahi, and grouper laid displayed on ice.  You just had to pick it; they would grill it up and deliver it to your table on the beach, under the stars and moonlight.

We stayed a few days to snorkel and enjoy the seafood.  Once we decided to leave, it became much less easy.  All the more costly boats were booked up.  Because of stopovers, it would have taken 7 hours on the water to return by the same slow vessel.  No wonder the fast boats were full.  After all the scrambling, we embarked on a narrow wooden passenger vessel, packed to the gills with 35 people and all the luggage.  Direction was westward to Lombok for an hour bus ride to the airport and a 20 minute flight back to Bali – the circuitous route.  Spent most of the day here in Denpasar, awaiting the next flight to Sulawesi, the former Celebes.  Hopefully we’ll be able to catch the overnight bus on arrival.  Free wi-fi – isn’t it wonderful?

North to Ubud

What a pleasant place!  Only one hour north of Kuta Beach, Ubud immediately evokes a more laid back, sophisticated realm.  It’s the artistic and cultural heart of Bali.  Walking along Monkey Forest Road’s art galleries, craft stores, antique shops, and inviting restaurants, you’re not so much bothered by every idle person asking you if you need transport.  

Many of the eateries, guesthouses, and lodges are in traditional Balinese style, heavy on carved wood, greenery, and ambiance.  Off the main streets or just around the corner, you can walk right into a bright green terraced rice field and be transported to a simpler time with geese running about and makeshift scarecrows standing watch. 

Most of the residences in the town remain according to a traditional Balinese plan.  The extended family lives in the same compound and they all have a private Hindu temple built in.  Tradition and religion remain strong, despite the evident tourism.  Many have simply added rooms for lodging and also run very nice restaurants on site.  We stayed at Ketut’s Place – nice room overlooking a swimming pool and alongside a verdant river valley.  Breakfast is served on your very own private veranda.

You cannot find any food stalls here, nor any KFC or Dunkin’ Donuts.  Inexplicably, donuts and fried chicken are all the rage in the major Indonesian cities.  In Ubud there are so many nice-looking venues, your choice of terraces, gardens, and lounges.  The food is amazing, at prices, quality, and presentation that would put the average San Francisco restaurateur to shame.  Sate’s, fish, rijsttafel, all sorts of rice plates – complete with drinks and dessert for anywhere between 6-15 dollars for two.  One of the more satisfying meals is from Warung Ibu Oka where, for lunch, people cram into the several large communal tables to eat the only dish served – Babi Guling, roast suckling pig over a plate of rice for $2,50.    

The artwork is beautiful, but not inexpensive.  The more interesting objects are the puppets, masks, and carved artwork.  You can find classic Indonesian, Buddhist, Hindu, and Timorese woodwork, priced optimistically high… The central palace is graceful, as are the many temples. 

We spent the days walking and eating our way through (maybe this ought to be a food blog). Of course, where there is a monkey forest road, there is a monkey forest to be visited.  Lonely Planet had a few suggested hikes through scenic terrain.  The landmarks were not clear (we thought), so both times the 6 mile walks took almost 4 hours, rather than 2-3, courtesy of a wrong turn here or missed turn there.  The extra distance wasn’t so much fun under a hot sun and humid atmosphere.  Did not know I could sweat so profusely…

The last day we rented a motorbike to venture further.  We took in a few more cool terraced rice fields and then visited the requisite temples of Gunung Kawi and Tirtu Empul in Tampaksiring.  It was a time of religious ceremony, so it was particularly beautiful to see the devotees dressed up to pray and leave offerings.  With a few hours remaining, we raced up to see Guning Batur, one of the two towering volcanoes.  We did not 

hike it, but from the road you can appreciate the new cone forming inside the giant crater, rising out of the blue crater lake.  Add the bonus view of Gunung Agung, the taller volcano.  Guess it was worth the fee you have to shell out to the parking mafia for having to leave your bike anywhere…

That night we attended a Ramayana performance, an enactment of Hindu mythology, which concluded with a trance dance where a man performed a painful-looking bare feet ritual dance over coconut husks that had been lit afire.

 

Bali - Kuta Beach and Beyond

As it was after 10:30 pm on our arrival and lacking any inclination to wander around, we took a room for 35 bucks.  Not bad, but relatively expensive for what you can get. We eventually found equally decent lodging for half the rate, though a few nights the younger revelers were up late…

Kuta Beach is the main drag for many first arriving in Bali.  It reminds me of Patong Beach in Phuket, Thailand, minus the ubiquitous go-go girls and associated activities.  Not particularly beautiful, it seems to be a shopper’s paradise, has decent food, provides most of the budget accommodations, and whatever else you want.  What you also get is similar priced behavior from both the tourists and locals.  Noise and intoxicated Westerners spill out of the many bars, discos, and lounges.  Instead of “becak, becak,” you have taxis honking at you for a fare.  The tour vendors want to sell you everything and on the beach you will be pestered with mangos, massages, ice cream, towels, chairs, henna tattoos, even bow and arrows.  I haven’t seen braids yet…  The main draw are the famously wide and long waves breaking into amazing barrels, perfect for surfing and boogie boarding.  Needless to state that it was extraordinary.  Steph took it all in from the beach – seconds of glory followed by the pummeling from the waves.

Sunset at Kuta is spectacular.  The transition to orange and red hues is fantastic. From the beach, you get to enjoy Mother Nature go to rest, along with maybe 5000 others.

I love Indonesian food. The ingredients are so varied and the spices are rich, layered, and fiery.  Coconut, curries, chilies, banana leafs, pandan, peanut sauce, and rice.  Sure, there have been times I didn’t exactly know what I just bit into, but it’s part of the experience.  The food stall is just as tasty as the upscale restaurant, just depends on level of comfort.  It takes me back to my childhood in Surinam and I get to have my super-spicy sambal fix twice daily, all downed with a glass or two of fresh watermelon juice.  Steph orders soto soup and mango juice.  One of the main activities really is to walk around and make the difficult decision of where to eat next.  Will it be nasi goreng, gado gado, nasi campur, or any number of sweet rice desserts?  Or just a bag of earthy and satisfying banana or cassava chips?

So despite the obvious glut of taxis driving around aimlessly and honking at every passerby, we actually once got refused a ride because it was too short and not enough money.  Go figure – he’ll spend the next half hour driving around aimlessly and honking for nothing, probably in the same direction.  We all have our principles...

Scooters and motorbikes rent from 3-5 dollars per day.  They provide a good means to explore the rest of the Southern Bali coast.  The first half hour was slightly stressful, as it takes a while to get comfortable with the haphazard traffic –the dodging, maneuvering, and overtaking of pedestrians, bikes, and cars.  Once further up the coast it became more peaceful.  The seaside Tanah Lot Hindu temple occupies a special location on top of an eroded rock that is connected to the land at low tide.  The view of the crashing waves is fantastic.  It can get horribly crowded at sunset, but at noon not many visit.  There happened to be a religious ceremony and the festive procession was a privilege to witness.  We stopped roadside to have nasi and babi guling, rice with Balinese roast suckling pig.  It was good and was accompanied by a few other things that I wasn’t sure about.

All the way south at the Ulu Watu temple, signs advised that cameras, hats, and glasses be put away due to the aggressive macaques.  We saw a Balinese woman get accosted and promptly relieved of her bag, mobile phone, and then her sunglasses.  Further up the road, was the legendary Ulu Watu.  Reached by a narrow road, a set of staircases lead you down to a small cluster of cliff side eating spots, lodges, and surf shops.  From there, you 

first look down at the beautiful coral revealed by the shallow turquoise water.  Then you peer towards the sun and the glistening blue ocean that rolls into impressively large left to right 10-foot waves.  It was an amazing sight to watch the surfers ride down the steep faces and carve their way across.  I haven’t seen a place like this.  It must be their nirvana – secluded, quiet, and perfect.

Next stop was Padang Padang, another spot with good waves and a nice swimming beach.  As the afternoon was wearing on, we remained for a swim and the sunset. Had to pass on “Dreamland” and dream about it for another time. 

See the pictures

 

 

Javanese Royalty and Temples

In the morning we ventured to see the Yogyakarta Kraton, the palace in which the sultan still resides. Though family rule dates back 9 predecessors, these days he claims title of governor and well-appointed businessman.  The compound is impressive and befits royalty, but the more interesting aspect is the village within its walls where over 25,000 people still live and work.  It gives you a brief glimpse into what things may have looked like during feudal times.  The area has more semblance of structure and organization -- more tranquil and mostly free of pesky touts and vendors, but by no means quiet.  We were disappointed not to see a Javanese music and dance performance at the palace, but it’s Ramadan, a month of fasting and austerity.

The adjacent bird and pet market was the antithesis.  Streets were narrow and crowded and jam packed with song birds, doves, roosters, “ornamental” species, their cages and feed, including worms, maggots, and crickets.  Eye opening if you’ve never seen it, but you can’t but feel sorry for the birds.  On the other hand, I earlier had seen a man lovingly bathe his well looked after rooster. 

A 3000 Rupiah (30 cents) bus ride took us the 17 km to Prambanan.  The more than thousand year-old Hindu temples were rediscovered in the 1700’s and later restored, until earthquakes several years ago wreaked additional damage.  The sight of thousands of stone blocks littered like Lego pieces around the remaining temples is a little disheartening.  Most of the smaller temples lay in ruins, but the main temple, Candi Shiva Mahadeva, was impressive. The intricate stonework was puzzle-like and the relief carving simply amazing.  Further afoot lay Candi Sewu, also surrounded by innumerable fallen blocks from its 248 satellite temples.  The site was under restoration and fenced off, but a friendly restorer beckoned us to straddle the fence and come in to have a look about.  He led us around the site while offering great explanations of all the structures, and we had the place to ourselves.  Of course we understood that nothing is ever free…  We then walked a couple miles trying to find our way up a nearby hill to see it all by sunset from a higher perspective, but it turned out to be a wild goose chase.

The sunrises are conspiring against us and not being spectacular.  The 4:30 AM wake-up for Borobudur delivered nothing but haze and clouds, but Borobudur definitely delivered.  An hour west of Jogja, this 1200 year old Buddhist temple ranks with Angkor Wat in Cambodia and Bagan in Burma as the must-sees in the region.  It was built at a time of Buddhist influence, which was later followed by the Hindu temples of Prambanan in now predominantly Muslim Java.  It sits on top of a hill and the 

multiple terraces require a 5km ritual walk to get to the top (unless you just take the stairs straight up.)  The temple with morning haze enveloping the surrounding mountains, complete with nearby volcano emitting a plume of smoke, is a sight to behold.  Words don't really do it justice, so the pictures are posted.

To "Jog-jakarta"

Dazed from the day's travel, and approaching late evening, we stepped out of the plane and into the eager clutches of the overwhelming porter touts, hotel touts, taxi touts, and money changer touts.  Having decided that Indonesia held so much else to see, we would fend off everyone and head to the nearest cheap lodging.  As many superlatives I heaped on Changi airport in Singapore, apparently there were none to spare for our first and only night in Jakarta.  The hotel was cheap (15 bucks), did not look too scary from the outside, but the room was just plain nasty -- the only fitting description for the bugs, mosquitoes, sheets, walls, and bathroom. Forget the bed check, it was all there.  Steph was glad to have her sleepsack with her.  With the 4:30 AM prayer call sounding as if it was happening inside the room, I wasn't sure whether to be annoyed or relieved...

In the morning we made a beeline to the domestic terminal for a flight to Yogyakarta, on the Southern part of central Java.  The plane looked like something from several decades ago, but we made it safely despite the jarring landing and funny rattling.  A bit more used to the customary welcoming party, we quickly hopped into a taxi towards the city center along Jl Malioboro, the main shopping drag.  We quickly took up a room in the first good hotel.

"Jogja" is smaller and slower then Jakarta, but on a saturday evening it feels like all of Indonesia's 220 million people and their motorbikes are squeezed into its streets and sidewalks.  Stall after stall offers up heaps of batik, belts, shirts -- all of it about the same. Look at something for more than a split second or walk anything but resolute and purposeful, and someone will quickly take it as an opportunity to show, sell, or convince.  There are way too many becaks, three-wheel bicycle taxis.  They take up virtually any empty curb space and in a day's walk you can easily be offered a ride 500 to 1000 times... "Becak, becak?"

At night, the dim incandescent bulbs of the many warungs (sidewalk food stalls) turn on.  The food looks great and the choices are overwhelming.  We sit down for mie goreng, rice, fried fish, and chicken sate.  It's nice, but we eat quickly as every street musician, cigarette vendor, and beggar seems to head our way.  Of course there is time for fresh chicken lumpia on the way back.

A Quick Dash Through Hong Kong

My parents recently moved into another tiny Tai Po flat in the New Territories.  For those living in the US, take your average “master” bedroom and fit into that space 2 bedrooms, a kitchen, bathroom/toilet, and living/dining room, a short walkway, and there you have it.  It was either the heavy, sweltering humidity or fatigue from all the running around the last weeks, but I was feeling very unmotivated to even leave the small space.  We went out to eat with my aunt and cousin a few times and, naturally, they made sure we walked away completely stuffed.  Three meals – Chinese banquet courses, Dim Sum, and Shanghanese. 

The remainder of the city was a constant pursuit of air conditioning.  We quickly perused Mongkok -- Ladies market (unsure of the reference, but an entire street of crowded stalls offering both genuine and fake brand name clothing, purses, watches, belts, and every kind of consumer product to tourists), Fish street (the same, but all aquarium fish and supplies), and finally Plant and Flower street (you get the picture).  We skipped Bird Street, the shoes, and electronics.

 We’re in transit at Changi airport in Singapore.  A kind brochure reminds you that drugs are punishable by death and bringing in chewing gum is prohibited. All jokes aside about the strictness of this country (remember the American kid some years ago who was sentenced to 40 lashes for spraying graffiti, spitting gum, or something or another…), because this place is simply amazing!  They have hundreds of free computer terminals for internet use, free movie theater, the most comfortable lounge seats, and resting areas to nap.  There is free transport into the city and even a free 2-hour city tour.  And I haven’t mentioned the great food, indoor orchid gardens – Stop gushing because it’s only an airport, but it makes me want to come back to visit the rest and it could be a destination onto itself.  In fact, at the numerous coffee shops local students come and do homework, papers and calculators spilled out.  A sign reads: “Happy studying.  11pm – 6am.”  No wonder about the high math and science scores…

Sayonara Tokyo

We ran around Tokyo some more. Down the metro, up the escalators, across busy intersections, and through a maze of goods - electronics, clothing, and trinkets. It was good to see an old friend again. The afternoon was spent at the Tokyo National Museum, which was a good respite from the city. Except for the achy feet that felt like they would crumble with the next step.

Keith and Vicky took us out to an amazing and perfect kaseiki meal, Japanese haute cuisine. Sublime slices of seafood, vegetables, and broth arrived in multiple courses (For those abalone divers out there -- it was very good...). Few man-made constructs rival a view of nature, but from the 51st floor of the Mori Tower in Roppongi Hills, the Tokyo nighttime sky and cloud cover were fantastically set aglow by a vast grid of electricity. It was the highlight of the day and night. We owe Keith and Vicky greatly for their hospitality.

Today we arrived in Hong Kong for a brief visit with my parents. The island is beautiful from high above. Much more compact than Tokyo, it's a marvel of engineering and planning. I find it surprisingly green with abundant coastline and freight ships scattered around plentifully.

More Japan

Four in the morning and the alarm clock went off for our visit to Tsujiki fish market, which hosts a din of activity and the famous tuna auction. It's early, you can get splashed or run over by the buzzing carts, but it's a spectacle. Before dawn, an unbelievable sum is spent on the freshest giant Bluefin, Yellowfin, Albacore, and Bigeye tuna harvested from every corner in the world.  The size of the fish is amazing!  Then there are the acres of remaining seafood that make most other fish markets look like roadside stands.  We continued to sniff around and finished off with a sushi breakfast, all before 7 AM!

Asakusa is older Tokyo.  It was a little disappointing as there really isn't much historical remaining.  There is one main touristy thoroughfare lined with small shops selling not so cheap trinkets, fans, t-shirts, keychains, the usual. And the humidity was oppressive already.

The Ginza area is a concrete boulevard of opulence.  It's Japan's answer to everything expensive and extravagant that can be contained in a boutique.  Interesting to note how much names on articles can fetch.  We met up with my old friend, Johnny, and perused the more interesting small side streets.  Amidst the astronomically priced real estate, an old man waits for customers in a dingy 10-foot wide, single story shop containing at most 7 pairs of shoes on empty shelves.  Visa, Mastercard, Diner's Club, and more than a dozen cards are accepted according to the dusty window.   The Sony building houses a myriad of gadgets that bring out the inner child, though the sophisticated electronics are nothing but adult.   There are "a million" shops and nearly as many places to eat.  

A one-hour train ride from Tokyo station through Yokohama, dialed back the clock to the small coastal hamlet of Kamakura. The sun was out and life was slow.  On rented bikes, the wind swept through our hair in the narrow windy roads en route to the Big Buddha statue and several impressive old temples, serene gardens, and evocative shrines.  Closer to the water, ice cream shops and beach shacks emerged, as well as people ridinglongboards on gentle one and a half foot waves.  

Back in Tokyo, the Ginza was lit up and alive with well-dressed folks heading for a night out. The Tonkatsu was good again.