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49. Tomohon

Blog entries

snake for sale, Tomohon market

A market with a difference; not everybody may enjoy the content or the pictures, but do not judge by your own norms and values alone.

North Sulawesi is home to the Minahasans, an ethnic group of seven clans that dominate this peninsula. It is a relatively affluent and predominantly Christian area, perhaps due to its close relationship with the Dutch colonial powers in the past – the area was sometimes called the 12^th province of The Netherlands (in the days The Netherlands had only 11 provinces). But Christianity, Catholics as well as several Protestant communities, seems to be overdoing things a little. What Pulau Madura had with mosques – every 500 meters one – North Sulawesi has with churches. At one stage I counted eleven in the timespan of five minutes, perhaps three to four kilometers driving, the one even more monstrous than the other.

Tomohon, kind of self-appointed cultural capital of Minahasa, would be like any other Indonesian small town in Indonesia. Granted, it has its share of churches, but for the rest the town has its network of streets, neat houses with gardens full of flowers, and not a lot of rubbish around. The usual shops, a bus terminal, a market. Nothing special.

sate rat

full-size bats in the Tomohon market

dog seller – in Minahasa culture there is nothing wrong with this

a sizable one, for sure

Except that the market is the prime gathering spot of the Minahasa clans, and where they do their shopping. Still nothing special, you would say, but Minahasans tend to have a specific taste when it comes to food. The market has a special section, referred to by one of the local people we asked as the extreme food section, and indeed, I have never seen bats and rats sold in such quantities. The highlight, however, undoubtedly was a huge snake, easily 4-5 meters long, which when it was ultimately bought by someone, had to be carried off by three people. The part rather more difficult to swallow, figuratively speaking as well as literally, is the dogs section, where dogs of all breeds, but mostly skinny ones found in the street, torched black to take away any fur, can be, and are being purchased to eat. You can even select one, from the cages outside, a truly sad-looking affair. Different culture, I suppose, and distinctly different from ours. Yet, people here keep dogs as pets, too, and the other side of the market is full of well-fed dogs roaming around to get even better fed, no signs of any threat of being killed. I wonder what determines the future of a Minahasan dog, or whether ultimately each dog’s future is the same. The people we asked about it remained somewhat vague.

and more colourful fish

colourful fish

there is also other food for sale, chicken for instance

We had intended to walk up one of the volcanoes near Tohomon, too, to get acquainted again with bubbling mud and sulphur smells – although some of our cloths still have the smell from Papandayan and from Ijen. But when we left the market, it started raining again, buckets, so we took the bus back to Manado, for an iced cappuccino in the mall, instead.

next: the beach and the National Park at Batiputih

market stall inside Tomohon market

48. Manado

Blog entries

Manado fish market

North Sulawesi’s biggest town is a good base for exploring the surroundings, if you can find a hotel room.

The only thing booked is our ticket, so we know when our travels start, and when they are coming to an end again. For the rest, we have a rough plan, we know more or less where we want to go, but how we get there, where we sleep, where we eat – whether there is food at all -, we’ll find out when we get there. You simply cannot plan everything in advance. Things go wrong, you need to find a solution: that is just as much part of the travel experience. And you know what? There is always a solution that presents itself, around the corner. We don’t want to backtrack from Mamasa? There is the Jeep. We don’t get to our planned destination? We find a homestay for the night. There are no minibuses for the next two hours? A car pulls up that is willing to take us. Or we have missed the 6 am bus, but somebody’s friend has a Kijiang, which is how we got to Manado.

downtown houses in Manado

Where it almost went wrong. Manado is hosting a nationwide sports conference, or something like that. Until the end of November. Which is why all the hotels– all of them! – were full. No rooms whatsoever. We drove around for more than an hour with our Kijiang friend – major advantage of a Kijiang over a bus, which doesn’t drop you at your hotel -, then finally let him go, because we could see he was getting pretty irritated from this unexpected delay. We parked one of us with all the luggage in a neighbourhood with many hotels, and the other – the most charming one – went door-to-door from hotel to hotel. It took another hour, almost, but ultimately, there is always a solution. A very, very small room, but a room alright, and fairly clean. Around the corner from where I was parked.

vegetables in the market

greens in the market

Same thing next day in Manado. My camera lens, a 18-270 mm zoom lens which allows me to travel with one lens only – no need to change, no risk of dust entering the camera -, my lens had already played up occasionally with the zoom getting stuck. After a while it would work again, but not today, the zoom snapped after getting stuck again, and that was the end of the lens. A major disaster in the making, I cannot imagine me traveling without a working camera, neither would you enjoy this blog without the photos. Not having encountered any camera shops so far this trip – not having looked for them either, of course -, we finished our iced cappuccinos in what is called the Mega Mall, and started to look around. Only to find a camera shop, tiny but still, a camera shop five minutes later, on the first floor of the mall. Which had exactly the same lens that just broke. There is always a solution, if not around the corner, then a floor up.

grilled fish

and raw fish

Apart from hotel rooms and camera shops, Manado has a fish market, good restaurants, and malls. It is, in fact, a very lively city, even later in the evenings, and even when it is pouring down the sky – which it did, quite a lot, when we were there; seems the rainy season is here to stay. The town’s traffic is clogged by blue mikrolets – minibuses – of which hundreds fill the streets: it seems every other car is a mikrolet, invariably half, if not entirely empty. Which is great, except that walking, especially in the centre, is often quicker – as long as you manage to avoid the huge holes in the pavement.

yellow sacks with whatever, mirrored in the puddles

the ever-present mikrolets

We were planning to use the town as a base for trips in the surrounding highlands, and to Bunaken, internationally renowned dive paradise.

We skipped Bunaken, which according to what others told us, had everything the Togians didn’t – it was easily accessible, an hour by boat from Manado, it has plenty of resorts, with 24 hours water and 24 hours electricity, and internet on top, it has good food, and it is, even in the low season, swamped with tourists. Which is why we skipped Bunaken. Besides, another two days on flip-flops?

But we did go to the surrounding highlands, starting with Tomohon and its spectacular animal market.

two buckets

47. Gorontalo

Blog entries

wooden windows of a colonial house

Another pleasant Indonesian town, with a good collection of Dutch colonial houses and even a Portugese fort.

The ferry crossing from the Togians to Gorontalo in the north of Sulawesi passed uneventful, except that the boat left on time – highly unusual in our Indonesia experience – and that by 6 pm, two hours into a 12 hour journey, they ran out of beer. Missed opportunity, with so many foreigners on board trying to have a good time, and trying to postpone going to sleep in the Bisnis class reclining seats for as long as possible.

the market in Gorontalo, early morning – not the mall, mind you!

What about Gorontalo? Not a place most people would choose to stay for any length of time, I suppose. Unless you just had a 12 hour ferry journey in Bisnis class reclining seats behind you. And unless you had just spent six days on a paradise island in rather Spartan conditions. And unless you need to extend your Indonesian visa. Then Gorontalo turns out to be a surprisingly nice place. Hotel with AC and hot water. Tick. Mall with iced cappuchinos. Tick. Chinese restaurant with some of the best grilled octopus I ever had, and pizza restaurant with excellent variety of really-thin-crusted pizzas. It was almost a pity that our visa was renewed without hassle, within 24 hours.

the governor’s mansion, old-Dutch, but well patched up

and the mansion, inside

stained glass windows

and another one, in a spacious garden

one of the colonial houses

To kill the time in between eating, cappuccinos and traveling up and down to the immigration office, we explored the Dutch colonial past of Gorontalo. Around the town centre are still many, often well maintained old houses, single story, large verandas, and series of wooden windows, some still with stained glass. In the middle of it all in the Governor’s mansion; they obviously don’t get a lot of tourists here, so when I asked if I could have a look inside, I was immediately assigned a special police man, to accompany me into the large reception room. All excitement, which of course ended with the inevitable photo session, but all very friendly.

one of the remaining turrets of Benteng Otanaha

the view down from the fort

Later, outside town, we even found something of the Portuguese past, in the form of a hillside fort, Benteng Otanaha, of which three turret towers remain, overlooking a shallow lake full of fishing traps and nets. Even though the fort and the lake are nothing special, just the drive out, in a bentor – the North Sulawesi version of the bemor, a motorbike with a two-seater upfront – is a pleasure in itself, definitely my favourite form of transport. Many of the bentors are carefully shaped by their proud owners, and equipped with special effects, like a series of bright lamps, or a powerful stereo.

walkway at the edge of the lake, to one of the fishing platforms

fishing nets in the lake

As I said, almost a pity to leave, after two days and two-and-a-half nights. So we got up relatively early, packed ourselves and our suitcases in a bentor for the 20 minute ride to the bus station to catch the 7 am bus to Manado, as suggested by our friend Wahab, who has a travel agency in Gorontalo and thus knows these things, only to find no bus. The last bus, which was possibly also the first bus, had left at 6, or perhaps at 5 – you never know – and the next one would be tomorrow, at 6. Or at 5. But, of course there is a solution, Mister, you could take a Kijiang, a shared taxi, Mister? Let me just call my friend, really, this is the only possibility today, Mister. You never know.

next: Manado

46. the crabs

Blog entries

Apart from beaches, hammocks, corals, fish – for viewing as well as for eating – , variable-experience dive resorts and reminiscing about the recent Indonesian history, the Togian Islands still had something else to offer. Although the rare Coconut Crab – a creature with arms of up to 90 cms, and an overall weight of up to 4 kg – still eluded us, we did encounter several other crabs with varying arms. As you may have expected, this website does take an interest in crabs, as a side issue only, of course. And if nothing else, the pictures at least balance some of the more serious thoughts of the previous entry.

next: moving on to Gorontalo

the Crab also met some fellow creatures, an unarmed one

one armed with somebody else's shell (hermite crab)

one armed with somebody else’s shell (apparently called a hermit crab)

and this one, no arms at all, it looks

no match for a very well armed crab

and some crabs have a different role in life alltogether

and some crabs have a different role in life altogether

45. the recent history

Blog entries

No pictures this time, just some general thoughts that are also part of traveling a country.

Perhaps sitting on our balcony in the peaceful Togian Islands, overlooking the turquoise blue sea and having time on our hands, is the right moment to reflect a little on Indonesia’s recent history; say, post-independence (some of the books in the Reading List have much more, and much more scholarly, detail, of course).

After the Second World War, and after the defeat of the Japanese, the Indonesian freedom movement straight away declared independence, but instead, with help of the same defeated Japanese and of the British, the Dutch established themselves once again as the colonial power. It took another four years, several brutal police actions by the Dutch government to punish and suppress pro-independence rebels, as they were invariably called, and significant pressure from the UN and the United States, for the Dutch to give up their claims on the archipelago and grant Indonesia its independence in 1949. The first president, Sukarno, straight away did away with any form of democracy – he introduced something called guide democracy, with him as the guide, so to speak -, suppressed any local rebellion as well as any claims for a religiously based state, and promptly adopted a neo-colonial stance claiming parts of Malaysia, East Timor and the still Dutch-controlled western half of New Guinea (which was transferred to Indonesian control in 1963). Further development of the nation and its population would have to wait.

I suppose Sukarno, who was hugely popular, could have held out even longer, but he made the mistake of cozying up too much to the communist party, a bad choice in those days. What exactly happened in the night of September 30^th, 1965, will likely never be known. A group called the 30 September Movement claimed to have prevented a military coup by army generals, who were allegedly concerned about the increasing influence of the communist party. The generals cannot defend themselves anymore, because six of them were killed that night. An outsider army commander, called Suharto, than took control, and crushed the 30 September Movement. So we may have had a preventative counter-coup d’etat – to prevent the general’s coup – which was immediately slashed down by the army, now miraculously headed by Suharto, who vowed to protect the president, Sukarno, and the Indonesian revolution. All very complex, highly coincidental, and never investigated anymore, afterwards. Which is also strange. The official reading, that the communist party masterminded the events, is indeed the least probable. Nevertheless, the events did fundamentally change the power relations, and not much later Sukarno was forced to resign. Enter president Suharto.

Much more momentous, however, was the immediate aftermath of the de-facto power change. For several months following September 1965, perhaps between 500,000 and 2 million people were killed, communists, alleged communists, but probably mostly people against who someone else still had an ancient grudge. Some of it with army involvement, some of it condoned by the army, and most of it by normal people, in towns and in villages, who hacked others to death. Just like that – there are plenty of eye witness accounts available, which I won’t repeat here. Suffice to say that killing was not enough, bodies needed to be beheaded, penises nailed to poles, corpses tied to lampposts or thrown into rivers. One author dryly remarks that in less than 20 years independence the Indonesians killed more Indonesians that the Dutch did in over 300 years of colonial suppression.

The next significant event in post-independence history would come more than 30 years later. Suharto had, during his time in power, achieved some impressive development statistics, improving health and education, and improving the economic wellbeing of the people, but he also had created a vast First Family empire, with family and close friends involved in every possible business, and preferential treatment, as well as outright corruption, favouring these businesses. With the Asian financial crisis breaking out in 1998, and Indonesia totally unprepared for, and totally incompetent dealing with the fall-out, and Suharto apparently loosing his political touch, demonstrations took to the streets, were clumsily beaten back by an army with divided loyalties, and ultimately ensued chaos – amongst others accompanied by the slaughter and rape of many Chinese and the burning down of their properties; successful business people are so often the envy of the ignorant. This caused Suharto finally to resign on 21 May 1998, in favour of vice-president Habibi. Which was a pity, because Habibi had no intention to investigate the Suharto years, and the devastating corruption associated with the First Family, which means that very little of the stolen money ever returned.

Afterwards, some form of democracy was restored, which is now functioning relatively well. Many other, smaller scale conflicts, in Poso, Malucca, Borneo, some of which I have mentioned elsewhere, erupted, and have subsided again, even the eternal conflict in Aceh has been resolved, apparently satisfactorily. But here, as everywhere in Indonesia throughout its post-independent history, there seems to be no intention whatsoever to find out what really happened, to establish some form of truth and reconciliation commission. It is quite likely that almost everybody knows some grueling details of Indonesia’s recent past, either witnessed themselves or from what their parents told them. But, in the old and tested Indonesian fashion, better to avoid confrontation. Perhaps until the next time tensions flares up, somewhere, and it is time to settle old scores again?

next: some examples of crabs

42. the road to Palopo, Pendolo en Poso

Blog entries

Ampana harbour in the evening

A long and varied journey to reach the Togian Islands, involving various forms of public transport again, albeit all pretty easy ones.

Look at the shape of Sulawesi, and you notice that it is actually an island made up from peninsulas. In a bay in between two of these are the Togian Islands, out next destination. To get there is somewhat of an effort – which is why the Togians are not overdeveloped for tourists. Attractive idea, of course.

But first, to get there. We boarded a bus in Rantepao, our first Sulawesi bus, and not uncomfortable, for the eight hour journey to Pendolo (via Palopo – why do all these names need to look so similar?), which became ten hours thanks to landslides, closed roads, and multiple eating breaks. Nothing ever runs to schedule, in Indonesia. When we were finally dropped off at a hotel, at 7 pm, it was pitch dark, and the hotel looked equally dark. But we found somebody, who even gave us a room – for an exorbitant amount of money, but hé, you haven’t got a lot of options in the dark. Next morning, in early daylight, it actually turned out to be a really nice hotel, or at least a once-upon-a-time-had-been really nice hotel, with cottages on the beach of the Danau Poso – Lake Poso – and a wooden restaurant balcony on stilts extending over the water. It is just that parts of the balustrade were missing, and some of the floor boards of the restaurant are rotting away. Such a pity, so much potential. But so little effort in maintenance.

flowers in the water at the Pendolo hotel

jetty of the Pendolo hotel

our lake transport to Tentana

The reason to come to Pendolo, was the lake, of course. Plan was to avoid another long bus ride by chartering a boat to bring us across to Tentana, three hours north, at the other end of the lake. So after a quick morning dip in the lake, we set off, in a brilliant outrigger canoe with double barrel outboard engines, across a completely deserted lake. This area is strongly Christian: Sunday morning, and everybody in church. Which is why, when we got to Tentana, we spent more than an hour finding a hotel room, not for lack of hotels, but for lack of hotel staff who could show us rooms and negotiate a price. At which time some previously hidden skills of my travel companion surfaced, like opening hotel rooms with a Swiss Army knife. So that we at least could use a bathroom.

covered bridge in Tentana

covered bridge, from another angle

eel traps in the Poso River in Tentana

window of a Tentana house

Apart from sitting at our hotel balcony, or looking at a covered bridge and extensive eel traps in the river – which tasted disappointingly muddy, the eels, not the river – there wasn’t a lot to do in Tentana. Another six hours drive, this time in a car we rented together with some other travelers, brought us to Ampana, the departure point for ferries to the Togians – bypassing Poso altogether, a large and apparently uninteresting town except for its recent history of religious violence.

I told you, not easy to get to, these Togian Islands. There is another five hour ferry ride ahead of us.

fishing boat off the beach of Ampana

freighters for the Togian Islands, in Ampana

41. Tana Toraja (2)

Blog entries

baby grave in a tree in Kambira

More Tana Toraja villages, and more examples of the fascinating burial culture here.

The Tana Toraja area is too big to cover in one blog entry, especially because it is so photogenic. After our walk, we braced ourselves for the most touristic villages, Lemo and Londa, which are easily accessible by car and by small bus.

rock graves and tau-tau in Lemo

tau-tau, or wooden efigies, in Lemo

In Lemo there are further rock graves, here adorned with several balconies with tau-tau. We were not the only ones, a group of five tourists with local hippy guide had arrived before us, and the guide was explaining all the details of Toraja culture. When we left, 20 minutes later, they hadn’t moved yet, still listening to the guide – how much is there to tell, and how long can you keep listening?

old house, tongkanan, with thached roof, Lemo

the cock, now as wooden symbol (Lemo)

remains of coffin and skeletons in museum barn in Suaya

red libella outside Tampangallo cave, to bring some colour in this story

entry of the Tampangallo cave

coffic with skulls, Tampangallo

Less touristic Suaya also has a rockface with graves, and several tau-tau, as well as a wooden barn, with glass windows through which one can see the remnants of old coffins, complete with human bones and skulls. But even this didn’t prepare us for Tampangallo, the next village. A short stroll through peaceful rice paddies, past an explosion of pink flowers, brings us to a large natural cave in karstified limestone, with wooden coffins placed high up near the cave’s ceiling, positioned on wooden beams. Others have been stuck in hollows in the cave, or are crumbling to pieces on the floor. Balconies with tau-tau decorate the cave walls. In niches, on isolated rocks, or just on the floor, are the skulls of hundreds of deceased, probably fallen out of rotten coffins, and stacked together by relatives. This is quite something, easily the most spectacular spot in Tana Toraja that we have seen. And there is nobody else, at least nobody else living, obviously this is already too far from the tourist circuit to be visited by the groups on a day trip.

coffins and tau-tau, Tampangallo

skulls, obviously stacked up by whoever maintains the cemetery

tree with baby graves in Kambira

Close to Tampangallo is Kambira, noticeable for its baby graves in a tree – small niches have been hollowed out of the tree, instead of the rock; apparently only babies that haven’t gotten teeth yet qualify for this. The number of graves in this one tree is a stark reminder of infant mortality, clearly not yet under control here.

Finally we hit Londa, tourist attraction number one in the area, and inevitably disappointing. Coffins have been stuck in two caves, once again natural fissures in the limestone, and like in Tampangallo, many are rotting away, and have left skulls, and bones, on the floor. Skulls have been stacked up, amongst others under a natural hole in the rock face, where tourists are encouraged to stick their head through, and have their picture taken with the skulls. All very tasteless, morbid even, but an opportunity eagerly taken up by many. After a quick visit to the caves, with our mandatory guide, we walk around, to view the rock tombs of the upper class and the ‘medium’ class – we have only been in those of the ‘underclass’, but the better off are buried higher up, with coffins being lowered on ropes into the caves.

rice paddies near Marante

tongkonans lined up in Marante

huge bull, imagine these horns on your house!

rice farmer

We have seen what we came to see, but we have another day, which we use to walk to Marante, another nice village with tongkonans, and back; initially through bamboo groves and rice paddies, but the closer we get to Rantepao again, the more we walk through populated areas and the less attractive the country side becomes. Populated areas come with the noise of motorbikes, of course, and also with scores of dogs, mostly barking only, but still something to be alert for.

By the time we got back to our hotel, the rainy season caught up with us again. Glad we settled for a comfortable hotel, this time.

next: moving north, to Palopo, Pendolo and Poso

buffalo after a mud bath

40. Tana Toraja

Blog entries

the mausoleum in Lokomata

Fascinating villages with plenty traditional houses and a variety of burial methods.

There are not that many roads in Tana Toraja, and there is not that much traffic. Which is what we found out when we wanted to take a pete pete – a minibus – to Batutumonga, a village located on the slope of Gunung Sesean. At the terminal, the next pete pete was to leave some two hours later only, and that is scheduled departure, not necessarily actual departure. But there is always a car that is prepared to take the foreigner, for the appropriate fee, and 15 minutes later we were on our way. Good decision, to rent a car, because the drive up was absolutely fabulous, with splendid views over the rice paddies below – and plenty of opportunity to stop on the way and take pictures, something a little more difficult with public transport.

rice padies on the way to Batutumonga

an old tongkonan, with original roof

and another one, close to collapse

window, not for a coffin this time, in a tongkonan front

two girls, keen to be photographed

Batutumonga is not that special, but from here one can walk to Lokomata, a traditional village with, allegedly, the largest burial rock in the area. In this mausoleum-turned rock tens, if not over a hundred, niches have been hewn out to store coffins, which are being placed in the niches by using tall bamboo poles to climb up. The tradition was to place wooden effigies of the dead, called tau-tau, in front of the caves, but since so many are being stolen, many people keep the effigies in their houses instead, and in Lokomata there are just a few outside, high up the rock face. Even after burial, people continue to bring offerings, in the form of bottles, cigarettes and other stuff, whilst the plastic flowers have a tendency to remain, too.

the carved-out rock at Lokomata, with niches and tau-tau

and this is how they get to the niches

the tongkonans in Lokomata

once again, with buffalo horns to impress the world

in this case, horns have even been put at the side of the tongkonan

a collection of rice barns, also in Lokomata

drum outside the tongkonan

A little further is the village itself, with many traditional houses and rice barns, always a spectacular sight.

The good thing of driving up is that the subsequent walk back is downhill. Back in Batutumango starts the path down to Pana, a village with another burial cave, and some difficult to discern platforms in the trees with further coffins. Another village characteristic, well exposed here, is the rante, a ceremonial ground with megaliths, individual rocks of sometimes up to 4-5 meters high, put upright. Not particularly impressive, but part of the local culture nevertheless.

Pana cemetry, one of the man-made caves stuffed with what looks like wrapped bodies

some of the coffins have come crushing down, displaying their contents

rice paddies on the way to Tikala

The walk down, ultimately to Tikala, from where we find a car to bring us back to Rantepao, is a very pleasant one, through forest and bamboo groves, and past villages. However, it is obvious that this is a much more touristic area than where we have been so far. The traditional greetings have been replaced, as least by the children, by “manny, manny”, or “bonbon”, or gule (which means sweet, as in bonbon), and when we don’t give them anything, they happily use the F-word – but only once we have safely move far enough away not to be a potential threat anymore. Of course they have learned this from the foreigner, but they know perfectly well that it is an insult; still, they use it, and the parents don’t discourage it – also very un-Indonesian, we have not come across this anywhere else. The blessings of tourism are varied.

and more rice paddies, I never get enough of this

more graves hewn out of the rocks, still empty

39. Rantepao

Blog entries

buffalo at the Bole market in Rantepao

Tana Toraja’s cultural capital has a lot to offer, like a unique buffalo market and plenty of outsized traditional houses, so-called tongkonans.

Rantepao is the biggest town in Tana Toraja – land of the Toraja people. This is where the hotels are, the travel companies, the long distance bus companies, the tourist guides, in short, all the infrastructure that was lacking in Mamasa. Tana Toraja is fully prepared for the tourists. And it shows in the people, who are, unusually for Indonesia, indifferent, not particularly helpful, or forthcoming with information. The tour guides are the worst. They will spot you, probably smell you, from far away, and besiege the car as soon as it stops near a hotel. They are a strange lot, all look like 1970s hippies, long hair and the lot – although walking on sandals equally fits 1970s hippies and Indonesians -, and we recognise them just as they recognize us. Somehow, they are also very assertive, in an aggressive and confronting way, for instance if you tell them that you are not interested in their services, and very sensitive about jokes, or anything they perceive is being said to them – equally un-Indonesian.

more buffalos, relaxed

two pigs, equally for sale

sold pigs, prepared for transport

any form of transport will do

any animal market will also sell ropes

and these are bamboo footballs

Every six days there is market in Rantepao – why they don’t settle for a weekly schedule beats me -, and the day we arrived was such a day. So off to Bole, the northern suburb and the location of the market, mainly to view the spectacle of hundreds of buffalos for sale, many tied up to a rope overhead; to make sure they don’t lie down? I don’t know, some do anyhow. A full-grown buffalo costs around 16 million Rupiahs, more than a thousand Euros. The market had been going on for the whole day already, and it showed, especially on the ground, where the buffalos had left their mark. Glad we were not wearing slippers. On the side, large cots contained lots of huge pigs, too, also part of the market process. Those sold – 2 million only, or less than a 100 dollars, a bargain, really – were being transported in many different ways, mostly tied up, and they were loudly protesting their fate. Animal rights, anybody? Not a pretty sight.

at least the fish stalls are a little more colourful, in front of the tongkonan structures

and even the fish is!

the proud fish seller

Rantepao itself has not much to offer, except for a comfortable hotel – and an internet connection -, which we thought was well deserved after the previous few days. But outside the center we do get our first glimpse of the Torajan houses, even more extravagant than what we had seen in Mamasa, and also far more numerous. Here, it is obviously a status symbol to have a traditional house – here called tongkonan, and equally positioned opposite one or more rice barns, like in Mamasa -, it reflects wealth. Many tongkonans are new, and many modern houses have a traditional roof extension in the form of a tongkonan, or a carved and painted gable, and people value their cultural heritage. Except that, here too, the thatched roofs have long been replaced by corrugated iron.

tongkonan in a Rantepao suburb

lots of buffalo horns, lots of past funerals

nicely worked front facade

regularly returning motif

Torajan culture centers around ceremonies, of which the burial ceremony is the most important. It is said that the Torajans work their entire lives only to send their dead to the next world as comfortable as possible, and that includes a huge farewell, with as many guests as possible – number of guests indicates importance of the dead person -, who all have to be seated, which is why they are continuously building platforms for ceremonies everywhere, and who all have to be fed, for which buffalos and pigs need to be slaughtered. And the horns of those buffalos, they once again adorn the houses, so everybody can see how important the family is.

the mobile supermarket, coming to you

Not being too keen on the slaughtering process, we didn’t attend a ceremony, but we did spend a few days around Rantepao, to explore the villages, the graves, and the breathtaking scenery of Tana Toraja.

44. the Black Marlin Dive Resort

Blog entries

outboard engine protected by a beer crate

Paradise Island comes with certain limitations.

Before you all go out and book yourself your next holiday to the Togian Islands, there are a few things you need to know. I already said they are rather difficult to reach, with the need to either get to Ampana, from which there are five or six ferries per week, or to Gorontalo, with only two ferries per week.

Once you have reached the islands, you need to decide where to stay. We opted for Kadidiri Island, with the choice of three lodges, less than half an hour away from Waiki, euphemistically called the capital city of the Togians. Other islands are further away, and involve much longer travel from Waiki – and presumably still have the same fishes and the same reefs. But it is low season, which also means less effort: some of the people we met on Kadidiri have been elsewhere, too, and mention an overdose of cockroaches and rats in their rooms there. We decide to stay on Kadidiri, instead.

the Black Marlin cabins, and the dogs in characteristic position

the Black Marlin lodge

The Black Marlin Dive Resort is the fanciest of the lot, with a thin veneer of professionalism. Rooms, little cottages on the beach, are pretty basic, but come with balcony, hammock, mosquito nets, ceiling fan and flush toilet. But with electricity limited from 5 to 11 pm, fans are of little use, and with water limited to one hour in the morning and one in the late afternoon, the flush mechanism of the toilet is also superfluous. The rooms are not being cleaned during occupancy. When we ask for at least the rubbish bin to be emptied regularly, one of the staff picks up our bin from the balcony, and turns it upside down behind our cottage, just like that. And obviously not for the first time.

view from one of the lodges on Kadidiri

the jetty of one of the lodges, with more threatening weather

the same jetty at the best of times

There is no internet. Phones are clustered around a the edge of the terrace, where occasionally there is signal reception. Whenever a phone beeps, somebody is running towards it, keen to have some outside contact. Often, it is just advertising, one of those annoying characteristics of the Indonesian mobile phone network.

supplies?

sunset, every day again

Food is spectacularly variable. One day, we have fresh barracuda, superbly grilled, and fresh vegetables, the next day we have white rice and mie goreng with fish heads, nothing else – my birthday dinner. And no choice. The wine, the sangria, the fruit juice, all on the menu, they are unfortunately not available. Tomorrow? No, not tomorrow either. Day after? They do get fresh supplies daily, from Waiki and further away, right? I give up, it will just be another beer, and a big bottle of water. No choice.

The people are very friendly, and they try. But not very hard.

next: with time at our hands, there is room for a little history, for some examples of crabs, or skip this and continue to Gorontalo

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first-hand travel experiences and impressions of travel destinations

49. Tomohon

A market with a difference; not everybody may enjoy the content or the pictures, but do not judge by your own norms and values alone.

48. Manado

North Sulawesi’s biggest town is a good base for exploring the surroundings, if you can find a hotel room.

47. Gorontalo

Another pleasant Indonesian town, with a good collection of Dutch colonial houses and even a Portugese fort.

46. the crabs

45. the recent history

42. the road to Palopo, Pendolo en Poso

A long and varied journey to reach the Togian Islands, involving various forms of public transport again, albeit all pretty easy ones.

41. Tana Toraja (2)

More Tana Toraja villages, and more examples of the fascinating burial culture here.

40. Tana Toraja

Fascinating villages with plenty traditional houses and a variety of burial methods.

39. Rantepao

Tana Toraja’s cultural capital has a lot to offer, like a unique buffalo market and plenty of outsized traditional houses, so-called tongkonans.

44. the Black Marlin Dive Resort

Paradise Island comes with certain limitations.

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A market with a difference; not everybody may enjoy the content or the pictures, but do not judge by your own norms and values alone.

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North Sulawesi’s biggest town is a good base for exploring the surroundings, if you can find a hotel room.

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Another pleasant Indonesian town, with a good collection of Dutch colonial houses and even a Portugese fort.

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A long and varied journey to reach the Togian Islands, involving various forms of public transport again, albeit all pretty easy ones.

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More Tana Toraja villages, and more examples of the fascinating burial culture here.

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Fascinating villages with plenty traditional houses and a variety of burial methods.

Share this:

Tana Toraja’s cultural capital has a lot to offer, like a unique buffalo market and plenty of outsized traditional houses, so-called tongkonans.

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Paradise Island comes with certain limitations.

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Recent Posts

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