PAMEKASAN Madura ~journeys 2010: journal with pfotos~Mar.13-14

~ bull-race town ~

Madura's a sizeable island off northeast Java. It's not that far from Bali with whom the Madurese have a long-standing rivalry. The island's very accessible these days via the SuraMadu bridge and by ferry from east Java. Sumenep is the capital and Pamekasan the biggest town.

Madura's flat and dry, has beaches and it's picturesque. Some have described it as 'rugged' but compared to what? Cattle raising's important and Pamekasan in particular's “...famed for it's colourful bull races, the kerapan sapi, which climax with the finals held at Pamekasan” in the dry season; August and September... "The bulls are harnessed in pairs, two teams compete at a time and they're raced along a 120 metre course in a special stadium. Races don't last long - the bulls can do nine seconds over 100m, faster than the men's world track record" [Attribution: South-East Asia On A Shoestring Lonely Planet Publications 2001]. It's March.

Madura's pretty intensively settled too. There are about 5 million Madurese still on the island. And Madurese make up a sizeable percentage of the transmigrasi population, particularly in relatively nearby southern Kalimantan...as well as in other outlying and remote, from Java, parts of Indonesia.

From around the fourth century due mainly to trade, the islands of Indonesia absorded cultural influences from regions west rather than north; both Hinduism and Buddhism. Later Islam arrived brought by traders. In the pre-colonial days the Madurese were a part of the two early Java-based indigenous, autonomous Hindu empires; firstly Mataram based at Borobudur and then Majapahit, by whom they were more tightly ruled. After the 15th century, when the Majapahitis 'retreated' to Bali due to the rise in the influence of Islam, the Madurese were an independent sultanate, with their capital at Sumenep, west Madura. They soon had the Dutch to deal with. The Dutch East India Company arrived in Java in the 17th century. The Madurese sultanate became an essential part of the flourishing Dutch colony, in part due to their long-standing rivalry with the Hindu Balinese. From the Dutch perspective, Madura was in a strategic location for trade with the Moluccas, Spice islands further east. Today there's a pretty strong sense of history in this part of Madura. There's a strong sense of former presences. This is joyfully witnessed in the myriads of historical buildings, both Islamic and Dutch.

Sat. Mar.13. I'm up and out for supplies...hungry and thirsty. But first I need to find a mom and pop type convenience store to buy merokoks. The guy tries to sell me a demo/display pack of polystyrene Luckies! “Not for sale” written all over them. I try not to lose it. This is my first personal interaction in Pamekasan. What does it say? Hell, I don't know. Eventually, I get given some 'real Indonesian' Marlboros when a local customer enters the shop. Phew! I need a smoke. The Garuda's great. Friendly, the staff. A local guy wanders in this evening just to talk to me in apologetic English. He's probably heard that there's a funny looking foreigner here. Just checking me out...perhaps smelling what I'm smoking maybe. Only natural that the locals wherever I go, want to size up an out-of -season foreigner. It's not the bull-racing season after all. How long am I going to stay? How can he make some money out of me. Where would I like to visit? Or is he casing me and the room? Out again to eat but I can't find the place I'm directed to by the hotel manager. It's very hot...even at 11am. I end up eating at the Indra Hotel down the main street where the food's not so cheap and the iced coffee is strangely undrinkable. But they don't charge me for it. Curried chicken and rice for Rp.15k is the cheapest on the menu and it is passable. The cheapest rooms here are Rp.120k. It's popular with the weekender locals out from Surabaya and other parts of Java.

Back at the laid-back Garuda room and I have a siesta 'til 3. On waking, I'm relaxed and happy with many feelings and thoughts flowing through me. Bruce Chatwin...Dylan's refrain “It ain't dark yet, but it's getting there”...and...“I can't even remember, what it was, I came here to get away from”. Ain't lookin for nothin, just relaxin in great surroundings. Very comfy in the heat too... Happy in Indonesia. Why? It feels so familiar...like home. A reference to earlier trips...from PNG. Papua New Guinea, where I first heard the expression: missionary, mercenary or misfit. Well, I am definitely the latter! I was bad, but not really wild. Just a bit excessive...about alcohol and girls. Trips to Indonesia in the late '90s gave me a break. I'll never forget the one with my kids Kim and Ella; when they were teenagers on holiday in Bali/Lombok in '97-'98. Fondly remembered too the time with Coco, the Papuan girl I was with...whom I met at a bus stop outside a museum near Sentani, in Irian Jaya, as it was then called. Trying out the bilum bag and bark-painting idea which meant buying traditional crafts like shoulder-bags and bark-paintings and re-selling them in NZ. Coco. The first time...two lovely weeks together and then I had no money left, and went off completely broke to Port Moresby. I re-visit Jayapura and Coco, in 2002. This is after being the manager of a local non-government organization for a year in Port Moresby. I had so many girls in the interim. I still wanted to go back and see Coco though...thought she might be the one.

After returning from NZ after a couple of months' holiday this is what transpired in 2002. That's the last time I was in Indonesia. I went and spent the best part of 3 weeks holed-up in a Jayapura hotel room unsure of whether to contact her again. I knew where her sister lived but let fate take it's course. I had to be patient and remorseful too It was a lonely, emotional time...until one day she and her sister walked past a 'downtown' restaurant I was in. This is in the early evening, when everyone hits the streets. As fate would have it, she sees me and comes in all excited. And I knew I'd done her and myself wrong. I'd had all those girls in the interim. Then, we spend three happy, itenerant months together...even going to Biak together. I had money...and paid for everything. She never asked for spending money like most girls do though. I even remember awkwardly talking to her parents who live in Nabire. I decide to return to NZ when the money gets dangerously low again. And I never successfully re-contacted her. No email...no letters. Not meant to be. No reply to the one letter I did send. Years later I learn of a serious earthquake in Nabire, where her family lives. Who knows what happened? Coco...a straight, honest, dark-skinned girl...with a beautiful smile. I've never been back to New Guinea. I didn't go back a second time in mid-2003 when I could've, maybe should've. It occurs to me here in Madura that maybe I should go check it out. But I presume she is by now happily married. I hope so. She's an anthropology major too...and well-educated. But her lack of fluency in English and mine in Bahasa made it really difficult for the deep and meaningful stuff that's so important in a relationship. Coco's different. But it's a bit like with a lot of trans-cultural relationships. The sex is great sex...but there's nothing much to stimulate the mind. Anyway. Such thoughts surround me here. Reminiscences really. No regrets. It's that sort of place, my room at the Garuda. Late afternoon, I sojourn out for food and take some pfotos. Successful on both counts. After the delicious martabak and terang bulan I start writing up getting to sleep around midnight.

Sun. Mar.14. Morning...it's gonna be a hot day all right. Puffy white clouds float across from the east. An orang-asli-looking gardener sings as he works weeding and cutting the grass with...a knife...a kitchen knife! I sit on the porch outside the room with coffee and merokok and continue to ponder. And what do I ponder? That traveling means that decisions and judgments get made. And, if your decision-making mechanism's a bit rusty and needs lubricating, oil it with what you have learned from experience applied to the circumstances you find yourself in. And...add a good pinch of your medium-term aspirations before making that decision. And remember too, that in addition to decisions, judgments of people and their motives unavoidably get made too. So, be cognizant of the universal feeling of ethnocentrism. Try to apprehend why others behave as they do. But don't forget that there are bad people and good people all around the globe. Enough pondering, let's go wandering. 'Don't cry for me...Indonesia' I hum as I walk in the heat of the mid-morn sun to buy the necessities of life. Timtam chocolate biscuits... a weakness that I indulge, Marlboros...and IndoCafe. And of course air minum or drinking water. Along with martabak (akin to kishe) in the evening...as good a balanced diet as you could ever wish for. Out and about, I hear the term 'orang gunja' applied to me by ocek and becek riders. A dopeheadman in other words I think it means. And not true. It takes me a minute or two to remember that I last had a smoke in Kompot, with the German addict on the riverside...a good four weeks ago now. Out for another martabak taken away back to the Garuda. I've spent about US$11 today all up, which is about par for my course. Overview of spending for the month: Total spent: US$750. Transport: $250. Visas: $50. Accommodation: $180. Living: $270.

Early Mon. Mar.15. I wake up after only an hour's sleep...about 2am. A strange dream which I can't remember. Then on waking up...an even stranger feeling of an eerie, ghostly, sexual presence in the room. I mentally check. Then...a fleeting, peripheral glimse...a presence...not a classic ghost-shape, like wrapped up in a bed sheet...just a...a personality maybe...disappearing out the corner of my eye and into the mandi room. Must have glided between the other single bed and along the wall before it came to my attention. Could it be...real? Could it be threatening?

Something sexual, maybe violent's gone on in this room in the past. It's really quite an old building. If only these walls could talk, eh? Perhaps I'm just overtired, or over-emotional or something. Perhaps it was Coco? Anyway...I sit up in bed with the light still off...have a cigarette and look and listen. This is a really unusual and strange experience this kind of feeling. Of something supernatural close at hand. Belief in the supernatural is pretty common after all. A lot of people believe in god? I've seen my fair share of Indonesian TV ghost stories. They're very Buddhist/Hindu in flavor and are very popular here as in most of S.E.Asia. The great majority of Indonesians are believers in such beings. If there really are real ghosts then they're in Indonesia. I think I just witnessed one! I light up another cigarette. The strange feeling of an eerie presence subsides...and I again ponder travel plans. And I am really tired now. I finally get back to sleep as the first call to worship beckons the faithful...must be about 5am.

MANINJAU To PAMEKASAN ~journeys 2010: journal with pfotos~Mar.11-12

~ eight miles high ~

Thurs. Mar.11. The plan. A few lazy days, a week maybe somewhere on Pulau Madura. Why Madura? Cheese and rice. I dunno. It's a place I haven't been to. It doesn't by all accounts have that many foreign tourists. It has lots of local ones. The girls thereabouts are very accommodating or so I've heard. But most importantly, it's probably got at least one beach. It's been a month since Saigon, and I haven't stayed at or been to a beach yet! Come to think of it, a peach by the beach might be story. After Madura the half-plan is to check Surabaya and Ujang Pandang [Sulawesi] out for jobs, right. Right! I'd also like to visit Mt. Bromo from Surabaya. Forget about Bali. I'm just not interested. However, Flores and Sumbawa are two more places I'd like to visit. But I don't think so this trip if I don't go there straight away. Cash. I've got about US$1,700! I still have the passport problem to resolve too. Remember. Like I've got one full free page left and the looming extension of the Indonesian visa. Anyway, the most exciting thing is about to happen. A flight. In a plane. My first in seven years!

So back to Bullshittinggi, oh sorry, Bukittinggi. From Maninjau I ride a share-taxi for the local price of Rp.13k. Once in Bukittinggi, at the bus station, I head by microlet back at the Germans' place. Thoughts are...it feels like a cocoon. Back at a backpackers' place with no locals. I have a different room, but of course still up on the rooftop. I listen to Frank Zappa overlaid by the intersection noise. Can't help thinking ~ could've, would've should've. Like...I shouldv'e gone out to Maninjau earlier in the piece and been able to spend more time there. But I've already got the onward ticket to Surabaya. So just a quick whistle-wind tour of Indonesia it's gonna be this time. At least I made it to Sumatra this time! And for the future, I know that Maninjau is my kinda place. That's if it doesn't change that much in the interim.

Some family history comes to mind. Back in 1953, after George and Mary had their first child, a son, whom they named David, they didn't stop cycling. Every free moment, weekends and holidays, they continued to 'go camping'. So, for the formative years of his life, David moved...moved quietly...along uncongested Scottish, country roads and through relatively unspoiled and undeveloped countrysides, on the two-wheeled cycle machine. David moved, as his early world moved. And he observed and recorded those moving scenes. Maybe it's something like that? For some it's the security of the 'womb', for me it's being perched on a bike and the bird's nest view. I dunno. But...being free, being without dependence...being able to travel.

There's a definite buzz that I get when I arrive at a place...even just returning to one after 4 days. With a new place that buzz usually lasts a good 3 or 4 days. I rarely smoke these days and don't drink [now]. Gotta get a buzz from somewhere, I guess! But hey, I'm only here in Bukittinggi for one night. I use up the buzz-energy on the German. Like, after my stay at Maninjau, I'm feeling relaxed and centred. Connected [that's the buzz!]. Understandably enough I chat amicably with Ulrich owner of Rajawali Hotel. I was pissed off with his place a little because Indonesia isn't like it was. Cheap, I mean. Actually now that I'm in a different space, Ulrich seems not such a bad fellow after all. Tells me about his main interest in life here...GPS and mapping etc. He convinces me that my next camera must have GPS capability. Information on the exact location of shots! He mentions that the University of Texas website is the place for excellent although somewhat old maps. He shows me the one he downloaded of Sumatra and customized using software such as 'Touratech QV4' and 'Mapwel 2009'.

Fri. Mar.12

I miss flying on the unlucky-for-some day! Leave Bukittinggi at the pre-arranged time of 5.45am. in unaccustomed luxury in the form of a flash, comfy, shared taxi courtesy of Jogya Travel. It's not free but not such an expensive way to wake up (Rp.40k). Down the early-morning road then to Padang Airport on the coast. The road is relatively quiet. The jungle sections are very reminiscent of around Reefton in the South Island. Perhaps the railway line aids this. The size of the road too and the nature of the drive....amazing! Amazing is the driving also.If you've been to Indonesia and traveled to any extent you know. What side of the road are they supposed to drive on? But we arrive safe and sound. I've now got three hours to kill. We left at such an early hour because earlier flights are being catered for. Turns out they're delayed anyway. At the check in my pack weighs only 17.5 kg. I've got 8kg to burn. Without asking for it I'm allocated a window seat. But in the eventuality, it turns out it's on "the seaside" of the plane for flight down. No volcanic mountain shots. Ah well...something to think about next time. Some cloud and looking down on coastal towns, meandering rivers shots will suffice.

I'm thinking how insignificant I am, up here 8 miles high. First time I've flown for 7 years, ya. Shows how I have been traveling for those past years in S.E.Asia...and filled up two passports in the process. We arrive for the stopover at Soekarno-Hatta Airport, Jakarta. The transfer check-in avoids another leaving tax of around Rp.35k. I'm given a window seat over over a wing. It's no big deal. I'm too tired to take pfotos anyway. Outside the Jakarta terminal during the stop-over. Don't get lost now. I wander and have lunch. I order by copying the customer in front. For Rp.25k, which isn't bad for an airport. It's the first rice I've eaten for a long time. I really got into the Indian in Malaysia knowing that I'd be back to rice here. I observe the odd foreigner...expats and backpackers floating around. And yes, this is where the young people are, for sure. About half of them, trendy girls looking good. Eye candy. Not your average big-bummed country girls. Rather the country girl who goes to Hollywood and wants to be fashionable and trendy...and contemporarily sexy. I'm thinking that because of Indonesian girls' conservative cover-all dress code, the country girls when they're in the country, aren't so conscious of their hidden body-shapes. Some of their weight's due to their diet too...and the use of motorbikes.

Friday ends with a tired traveler in a great room for a very reasonable price. Indonesia, just the way I remembered things on previous encounters. Here's what happens. I decide when I'm on the plane to try to make Madura tonight. I want to avoid expensive, tiring, time wasting in the big city. There'll be enough of that later when I've decided to look for work here. We arrive at Surabaya airport about 3.30pm...only slightly late. I'm really tired. Airport bus. It's a rip-off. But not about being a rich foreigner. Everyone pays the same. It takes us to a bus station not far away. And there's a bus just leaving for Madura! But where on Madura to head for? I don't know the names of any of the towns there. So out comes the guide book...useful for once. The town of Camphlong'll do. It's about halfway along the south coast of Madura to the east. There's a beach there too. It's Rp.25k on the bus. I've no idea of how long it will take. Well, it pisses around the harbour area of Surabaya, stopping, waiting for weekend returnees to their homeland, refugees from the city...in the sleazy side of the port. I'm really very tired when some guy starts up a brief conversation. I head over the street to buy half a dozen 3-in-1 coffee mixes and a couple of liters of water for the bus again. I presume we are taking the ferry across. But it turns out we're going over the SuraMadu Bridge, new since I was last in these parts in 2003.

The bridge is about a quarter of the length of Penang's but Madura is bigger than I imagined. It takes hours and hours to reach Camphlong. It turns out to be a not-too-inviting stopover place. I'm the only foreigner on this local bus of course so 'where stay'. Most of the passengers indicate an expensive-looking hotel...for the tourists. There's got to be cheap places here but I decide to stay on the bus. What's the next town? Well it's the capital of Madura, which I manage to remember by thinking of cheese, Pamekasan. It's the best part of 8.30pm by now. The friendly guy back at Surabaya turns out to be an Islamic teacher on his way home. It's obvious to all that I have very little idea of where I want to go, but I tell him I need to find a losmen or cheaper hotel. So he suggests the Garuda, in the centre of town. Very reasonable he assures me.

He gets off before Pamekasan, but urges me to get an ojek costing about Rp.10k. Pamekasan terminal arrives. Off I get when a plumpish girl in cover-all student garb in her late teens helps. I never noticed her on the bus. She turns out to be a dental student in Surabaya. We ride with her uncle, who's come to pick her up...and they drive me right in to the Garuda Hotel forecourt and reception. And yes, they do have rooms, ranging from Rp.25k. for the standard to Rp.50k. for a bigger one with inside mandi/bathroom]. There's no TV but it's a 5 by 6 meter room, with a 14 ft. stud. The mandi is more than ample tub. The room has a couple of power points unlike the ones in Sumatra...so I can upload fotos, recharge and write up my journal. The dental student is long gone to her uncle's. Pamekasan it turns out doesn't have a beach, but hey, who's dreams come completely true! And that's the story! Bullshittinggi to Pamekasan, Madura in a whole, big, long day. Into the single bed and a deep sleep after a great shower.

DANAU MANINJAU: Lake walk left ~journeys 2010: journal with pfotos~Mar.11.2010

~ lake walk left ~

Thurs. March 11

Woken by strong wind from an easterly direction, coming over the crater rim and ripping along the lakeside, I arise at about 4.30 am. It gets light here about 6.30 ish. At the moment there's a crescent waning moon.

Today's exercise is another walk on the lake-circling road. But hanging a left this time. I want to wander beyond where I got to on first arrival a couple of days ago. This means towards “Baier”, the original village of Maninjau. It's still pretty windy all right. This morning the air is full of smoke. The strong wind is bringing it up...or throwing it up...from the east. It's that time of year in South East Asia. Farmers are burning the rice stubble after harvest-time. Perhaps too, the companies are ridding the planet of a little more jungle too. The old 'slash and burn' for profit rather than survival. The large-scale burning of virgin forest, like happened in Kalimantan in the late '90s is not so common now. Maybe there's nothing much left to burn.

I'm into the pfotos today. I want to try some different angles with the camera. To be more more 'creative'. Because it feels like my pfotos are getting a bit repetitive. All those buildings. And I want to get away from the urge to include everything in a frame. Not long after setting out, I notice some ruins. Looks like of an old Dutch building. Rikki tells me about it later, just as I'm leaving Maninjau. It's situated near a hot springs, Rikki tells me. Only a couple of hundred metres on the right from the Beach. It must have been a bath-house. A modern house front with plaster scene. Now that's creative.

I observe something rather peculiar. You know when you walk along a narrow, busy road...it's a good idea to walk on the side facing the on-coming traffic. It's a safety rule we all learn

somewhere along the line. Well, I notice that the locals here walk along the road...not safety conscious. They walk along just like they do riding their motorbikes...with their backs to the traffic coming behind on the same side of the narrow roadway. Perhaps they know each other that well or something? I have some coffees to refresh and restore energy on my way back to the Beach. Then I go to check out how to get back to Bukittinggi. The share taxi/minibus local price is Rp.13k...after bargaining. This is the same as the bus fare I paid to get here. I have to get back and spend a final Sumatran night at the Rajawali in Bukittinggi. I really don't want to miss my plane.

Most of the young people around Manijau seem to have gone...to the cities. Times have been better. There are very, very few tourists these days. It was a bit different before 2002.

Maninjau along with Toba were apparently really popular places. Today, Maninjau is overall, a friendly, quiet and very scenic place. Tourists come and tourists go. So do volcanic eruptions. I strongly sense that the forces of nature were at work shaping this landscape. The local people have adapted to the landscape. There's an uncommon quietness in both these days. It's easier to notice that the halcyon days of backpack tourism are presently over. Perhaps overseas tourists will return again. Once again they will come in pre-Bali bomb and pre-economic crisis numbers again.

This place needs to be appreciated. Hopefully, full moon party types will stay away. Somewhat forlorn but interesting examples of busier backpacker days have not completely disintegrated. 'Simple Cafe'. It's in some sort of disrepair. However, could better days lie ahead. The tin-wall under the traditional roof-line is impressively new! Maninjau's not alone. All over Indonesia today there are very few foreign tourists. Outside of Bali that is. Here it's a couple of days before I even see another westerner.

Many wonderful mosques or masjids ring the lake. The people seem devoutly religious and quite poor. Fish farming is big here but makes the lake ugly. For sure people would be better off if more tourists came here. But happier? I kind of liked Maninjau and it's people the way they are.

DANAU MANINJAU Lake walk right ~journeys 2010: journal with pfotos~Mar.10

~ a walk along the lake right~

“Maninjau, 38km west of Bukittinggi... compared with Toba, the lake is quite small – 17km long, 8km wide and 480m deep in places – giving the true feeling of being enveloped in a crater. Maninjau is well set up for travellers but remains relatively unspoiled and peaceful” [Attribution: South-East Asia On A Shoestring Lonely Planet Publications 2001].

Wed. March 10. A very vivid nightmare interrupts my blissful sleep here on the first night. It's about losing all data during the writing up stage of an MA thesis. In the relaxing environment here some stuff's bound to come to the surface. Maybe I'm worried about being robbed or something. Or losing all my journal and pfotos. The last time I did get robbed was when I was up at Tad Lo, the Bolaven Plateau, Central Lao. I was too drunk every day to care about my stuff.

As it happens I only lost a $50 DVD player and some other rather insignificant easily replaceable stuff I'd decided to carry. I only used the player once in 3 months on the road! Silly. But when you don't plan where you're going or what your going to do, you've gotta cover as many possibilities as you can carry! Talking about nightmares. Some people probably live them. One comes across people who in the west, would be confined to mental institutions. But here they're a part of the community. Although they draw some strange looks from passers-by the out of mind don't seem to be hidden away out of sight...and therefore out of our mind.

Overnight rain. It's a cloudy but clear day. The nearest mosques are quiet ones. Bugger. No nice morning dreams. Only and inquisitive girl next door whose friend is inordinately interested in my 'luxury' phone. It's just a very cheap Sony Ericsson. No alcohol was consumed on this premises last night. Rikki tells me lcoal tourists flock here in May school holidays. They pre-book his place. He says that they like to para-glide on the lake too. Lucky it's not May then. As we speak lakeside, a couple of dead fish float. “Maninjau... water.... no good” says Rikki. I try to ask him because of what. But he offers no clear answer except to say that the water is no good again.

He probably means from human waste. There are no big hotels here yet although there are some small, boutique up-market, modern ones. Not exclusive and not so expensive. A room at the one I visited yesterday is currently Rp.200k. per night. Later I observed more dead fish floating in the lake. And on it's far side slips and landslides can be seen. I'm told the recent Padang earthquake is the cause of those.

In the mid-morning I recharge my phone again. Then off I go for a walk. I don't see another traveler all day. I head back up to the road that circles the lake. I hang a right and back towards the intersection at the bottom of the 44 hairpin hill road out. I continue right through 'town' for about 5 kms. This lakeside road passes through very rural and picturesque settings. Yeah, there's wild monkeys around the lakeside too...and they're unused to human intrusion onto their territory. The rice fields change hue as the clouds gather with fish breaking the surface of ponds, interrupting beautiful reflections. The rain pelts down for a good hour. I take shelter under the veranda of a convenient cafe. I sit on the bench outside, smoking and drinking the strong, local coffee. The locals inside are quiet at first about this stranger.

It's a heavy rain shower all right...about midday. I shelter with the local residents who are avoiding getting soaked on their motorbikes. A young man arrives from the direction of their mosque further on round the lake. One of the older men tells me with an endearing grin, “Al Queda” gesturing to the new arrival! We all laugh. It's a joke that must be repeated all over the Muslim world. I've already made it clear that I'm not from the US. We from NZ don't care much for the American government's policies too. No joke. The rain abates briefly enough for me to continue. I don't turn back. I can see a beautiful and somewhat unusual wooden mosque from whence Mr. Bin L. came.

The mosques like the locals here, certainly do have their own character. Then I backtrack all the way to the Beach. The narrow road is busier now. I get back soaked. I'm absolutely buggered. The small backpack isn't waterproof after all. I am glad that I carried a large shopping plastic bag in which to put the laptop, phone, camera...and passport too. It's a great, comfortable little pack. An ideal size...bought in Saigon the night before I left. Cost me less than US$20.I can't complain...it's just not waterproof that's all. It's got these distinctive luminous stripes on it too. Good at night when walking along dark streets or riding a bike.

There are many old, wooden, colonial flavor houses. In this respect, Maninjau is very reminiscent of Irian Jaya; Biak in particular. There ten years ago now were old wooden buildings of the same age and with the same Dutch influence. Most were in the same state. Either well-maintained artifacts or just well-used ones. Some are well-looked after. Others are falling apart while sporting satellite dishes. Here too, gasoline drums roadside. Probably I take the similarity too far when I seem to observe that some of the local people look very Papuan. I again have noticed the presence of trans-migrants but not many such as the friendly, attractive woman probably in her early 40s who cooks me tea...soto ayam this evening. She's from Surabaya.

To Lake MANINJAU ~journeys 2010: journal with pfotos~Mar.09

~ a beautiful mountain crater lake ~

“Maninjau, 38km west of Bukittinggi, is another of Sumatra's beautiful mountain crater lakes. The final descent to the lake on the road from Bukittinggi is unforgettable. The road twists and turns through 44 numbered hairpin bends in quick succession, offering stunning views over the shimmering blue lake and surrounding hills. Compared with Toba, the lake is quite small – 17km long, 8km wide and 480m deep in places – giving the true feeling of being enveloped in a crater. Maninjau is well set up for travellers but remains relatively unspoiled and peaceful” (Attribution: South-East Asia On A Shoestring Lonely Planet Publications 2001)

Tues. March 09. Was I heard to complain about the noisy nearby mosque!?. Well this morning, there's a very beautiful duet call...at 4.30am. Admittedly that's early but it's the loveliest recital of the Koran I've ever heard. I've endured a few in the old days of living and traveling in Indonesia. Nice thing I've found, is that after being woken by the early morning call to worship of “Alluah Akbar...Allah is Great", I'd have the clearest, most interesting dreams in that light, half-sleep. I'd finally awoke around 8. In those days...I'm talking 10 years ago in eastern parts of Indonesia... in Moslem-dominated parts of towns. Here, one would inevitably find the cheapest hotels, costing maybe Rp.15 or 20k right next to the mosques. So, once again this morning, it's back to sleep, dreaming nicely. Then I'm up for coffee and cigarettes as usual. I head out for a breakfast of lontong...then off to the travel agency recommended by the German owner of the Rajawali called the “Jogja”. It's near the place where the Malaysian photographer and I had that early morning coffee just off the freezing bus. Does he get a cut? Probably. The the German I mean. The friendly, competent travel agent lady there knows I'm coming! Small town. I book the ticket to Surabaya with Lion Air with a short stop-over in Jakarta. The shorter, the better.

I go past the rip-off dentist's to the BCA ATM to pull some cash out. No problem. My Vietcom card is dead...not active...definitely expired now. So I've got a 'dead' $500 sitting like a nest egg for the future. But I have to be in Vietnam to access it. Right now though, I pull out Rp.2.5m from Sacom my other Vietnamese bank OK. I saunter back across the plaza with the town clock and down some steps and a downhill alley to the agency. I pay the Rp. 900k/$US 100 for the ticket and that includes a taxi down to Padang airport leaving at 5.30 in the morning in about 4 days' time from Bukittinggi. It's about 1,500km Padang-Surabaya. That's $30 an hour. And if you compare this to the cost of taking a bus...it's cheap. And convenient...as long as you don't have an interest in seeing the intervening countryside. In the “old days” of traveling here, it used to be that land transport was the cheapest and least comfortable way to journey. It's still the least comfortable! And now it's cheaper to go on one of the thriving Indonesian budget airlines. Safety? Worried? Man, I haven't flown in 7 years. Nothing's gonna happen 'cept I get safely to Surabaya!

Back at the Rajawali I check out and take an opelet for Rp.2k to the 'terminal bis'. Hanging around the bus station and taking some snaps in the heat of the day, I catch the rickety looking Maninjau-bound local bus about 1pm. This is just a short journey of a couple of hours. It's probably going to be more dangerous than the plane to Surabaya, come to think of it. It turns out to be interesting...along busy roads to begin with just a basic two lane road crammed with traffic. Could this be the main Sumatran highway? After the Maninjau turn-off, it's along and up at the end to the outer crater wall...before plunging down the hair-pinned hill to the lakeside. There are some magic vistas...and the breaks on the bus hold.

A friendly old man on the bus advises me to get off when we stop at the intersection at the bottom of hill. We just passed troups of small monkeys playing happily in the roadside trees and I'm not really listening...or thinking. This is not 'Bayer' where I intended to get off! No great shame. It's all good. Living in Saigon it's easy to forget how lovely is the planet! I end up walking with weighty pack right along the lakeside road in the same direction as the bus that dropped me! I have to take a breather at a quiet lakeside coffee stall with nearby very photogenic mosque.

It seems to far on, so I retrace my heavy steps back towards the intersection and luckily end up at the Beach guest house. Rikki's an amiable young guy and I have a great room for Rp.40k. This is largely thanks to his granny [or mum...can't figure out which...], who's been to visit her daughter...married to an Australian and living in Cairns. After I relax and cool down the usual stuff ensues. I upload my pfotos and recharge camera batteries even though there's no power in the room. Same as in Bullshittinggi. Damn this is getting annoying!

There are no other 'travelers' are in evidence. Since I got off the bus at the bottom of the hill and walked, I haven't seen anyone...great! The Beach isn't much to look at....but it's one of the most relaxing places I've so far this trip. Right on the lake. A few of the other rooms are occupied by couples... short-timers by the looks. As it turns out, yes and no. The couple next door couple I gave the benefit of my doubt. A boyfriend and girlfriend I concluded...but then again, the way I caught her looking me up and down.

Just being happy...an introspective haiku-like piece happens:

Sounds

lake water lapping

rain on the roof

takes me back

hushed voices too

The setting here reminds me of various parts of my life before now...camping as a kid especially. Maninjau is a reflective sort of place. It's quiet now, although there's this feeling around. Like I don't know how long ago it blew...but the energy that was around here then. And now, it's like all the energy is used up. It's so quiet and peaceful. The mosques are strangely quiet too. Just as well I booked the ticket to Surabaya before I came here! Or I could end up here forever!

Life's full of coincidences. Wasn't I thinking that a place such as Maninjau was on my agenda! As it stands I've got 4 days to chill out here. Now I'm really on holiday. This is what I came to Sumatra for. This is what that overland journey was about.

BUKITTINGGI ~journeys 2010: journal with pfotos~March 2010

1,000 metres up and very close to the equatorial line

On Bukittinggi's physical setting:

“This cool, easy-going mountain town is one of the most popular travellers' centres in Sumatra. Many travellers heading north from Java make Bukittinggi their first stop. It's easy to spend a week here checking out the town and surrounding attractions. Lying 930m above sea level, it can get quite cold at night. Surrounding the town are three majestic mountains- Merapi, Singgalang and the more distant Sago”.On the history: “Bukittinggi was a Dutch stronghold during the Padri Wars (1821-37), and it was here that the Sumatran rebels declared their rival government in 1958. Today it is a centre of Minangkabau culture, as well as being a busy market town with a small university. The town is sometimes referred to as Kota Jam Gadang (Big Clock Town), after its best known landmark, the Minangkabau-style clock tower that over-looks the large market square”(Attribution: South-East Asia On A Shoestring 2001 Lonely Planet Publications).

Sat. March 06. Up about 7am. Had a good sleep under a necessary blanket. There are only a few mozzies up here in the highlands too, in this room without a fan. The last time I can remember a fanless one must have been up in Sapa, northern Vietnam a couple of years ago...strange to be without one. As I say, they are good for keeping the mosquitos grounded...at bay, but not a problem right now...the mozzies. Good to get back to my 'normal' time zone. Other things are normal too....coffee on the verandah...cold as usual. I've got into the habit of drinking the 3-in-1 like this...shaken up in a 500ml plastic 'Gatorade' drinks container. Going out for walk they fit in the outside carry space on the small backpack. Also I carry everything of value to me in it...never leaving important stuff in the rooms. The only times I've been robbed have been from my room when I'm not there...out and about...or out cold with more than a hang-over to deal with next morning.

The outlook from the roof of the Rajawali Guest House right outside the rooms is worth the money...$US6 per night. There's a good "street scene" traffic corner but you're in Indonesia so there's the power lines to ignore. I sit out in the bright morning sun...hey what to expect...up over 900m above sea level and smog...and about 0.5 degrees from The (equatorial) Line. Feeling good and take some fotos...of the roof garden and road junction. On a bright sunny morning the red roofs of a nearby school catch the eye nicely. The kids are practicing a Minangkabau thingy...a play with music...the Minangkabau kids in traditional garb.

Minangkabau is the name of the local people in these parts of Western Sumatra. So a bit later on I go to investigate. Looking down to the school with it's 'Merah Putih' fluttering against the blue, blue sky over the traditional Minangkabau-style roof-lines...was a great sight in the clear atmosphere after the rain of the previous evening and overnight. Some kids are looking on at the practice performance. So too are parents, who are up on the sidewalk of the road overlooking the scene. They seem chuffed that a tourist is taking some pfotos. The music the schoolchildren are making is a blend of traditional and modern. One of the kids...on the big 'kettle drums' is going hell for leather...jumping up and down with enthusiasm and energy, such is the strength of feeling for their local traditions up here.

Then it's over for a bite of the same to eat, and wander uptown...take some photos. The view down to the local market just off the top of Bukittinggi town with it's stalls of fruit and vegetables, clothing and handcrafts is something to behold. On the other hand

I gave Bukittinggi's tourist market a pretty wide berth including the famed clock tower. I was probably on the rebound after Melaka. On my saunter that day I see a 'false teeth' repair shop. It's an opportunity to get the "missing~Jaya~restaurant~Penang" tooth glued back in it's prominent place before I lose it! It's been kinda funny to sport a missing tooth smile on occasion but better to have it back in place. How much? Tiga ratus...which I mistake to mean 3,000. It means 300, and although he didn't say thousand...ribu...that's what he wants after the 10 minute job is complete...that's over US$30. The smallest notes I have are two 1,000s, then a fifty thousand or about US$5. This is what I leave sitting in front of him, and walk out...even $5 is probably about 10 times what a local would pay. All the time his wife was hovering in the background, making sure that he did a good job of fleecing me. But hey, I can smile again with full plastic. Greedy people everywhere, I know but this kinda puts me off Bukittinggi, now Bullshittinggi. Maybe I'll head on to Lake Maninjau. Back at the rooftop Rajawali base, the couple leave for Padang and on to Jakarta by plane. I do some washing, not seeing the 'No washing clothes here' sign in the loo. Afternoon nap.

Earthquakes are not a big thing to Kiwis. I have a conversation with the German...owner of the Rajawali. The topic is earthquakes. There was another one in Bengkulu the other day...a 6.5 magnitude. People headed for the hills, fearing the worst...a tsunami. “Leave the light on, so you can more easily run outside, if one happens tonight” he says. “Mate" I say, "We're an earthquake prone zone in NZ...and running outside is not recommended either”. At least that's what I remember being told...stay put and shelter under a bed, a table or better still a doorway. And this old building's seen a few in it's days and is more or less intact. I'm the only guest...on the 4-room top floor tonight but I feel pretty safe.

I head on up town from the Rajawali, up on of the main streets up under the footbridge to the old Dutch fort. Trotting around town, there are 'bendis' or horse-driven rickshaws for locals as well as tourists transport around town and for carrying goods too. The main kind of public transport is the "opelet" or ultra mini-buses which cost Rp.2k. In the afternoons the weather breaks down into brief sun-showers with attendant rainbows. And the now not so cheap 'Kansas' cigarettes burn on down quickly thanks probably to amount of chemical additives in them...gone before you start. I try the 'Ardath' later on but they ain't much better. My thinking is that cheap cigarettes wouldn't have expensive chemicals in them...but maybe the chemicals are cheaper than I think. I ponder in the evening...where to from here? Don't eat another meal. I've blown my daily budget with the tooth faerie episode. I go for another wander down to the store opposite the nearest, noisiest mosque, on the road out of town, north to Lake Toba and Medan and buy snacks...costing way more than a meal would have!

So, indeed, where to from here? I remind myself not to forget that “this could be your big chance to get out of the South East Asian mainland”, while I have a bit of dosh...still about US$1,700...not much, but enough. Or at least this is what I'd been telling myself since months ago. “Dave, man, your next trip away is It. You have to go see other places, maybe find somewhere to settle down...”. Why?... because I feel just a bit jaded by the whole experience of living and working in S.E.Asia now. At 56, 57 in about 10 days time, shouldn't I be thinking of a place to hang up me boots and all that? But I don't usually listen that intently to good advice, from any directioin. I quickly forget about this base feeling. The lure of further travel takes over. I've only just arrived here in Indonesia anyway, and I've got some traveling to do! Given that I have one full page left in my passport, which an Indonesian extension would doubtless take up, I should be pre planning my itenary just a little. So, go north to Toba and chill-out, maybe even go up to Aceh or over to Nias too. This would see out the current visa...so then down to Kalimantan by Pelni, probably via Tanjung Priok, Jakarta's port. This way, also I could extend the visa in Pontianak would make a lot of sense...small price of outbound, necessary ticket for extension just a bus ticket to the Sarawak border. Then I could go over to Surabaya and look at possible jobs there. Oh yeah...the passport somewhere along the way too. Or take the dreaded bus trip down the 'highway' to Java, stopping off to see Krakatoa on the way. Even as I write, 24 hours later, I haven't decided! As it turns out, I do neither of these journeys...

Sun. March 07. Up at the usual time after a good sleep and over for a Lontong at the usual place. It's a kind of vegetable soup with an egg- and with a coffee it costs only Rp8k...because it's for the locals and not tourists, most of whom would probably suffer some ill effects...not to their pockets, but a bit further up. At the eatery I have a conversation with male customer...kind of similar to the one with the bus touts in Dumai. He also thinks that Indonesians are only good at fucking...well having babies is the way he puts it...and corruption, babies and corruption. He doesn't get specific, and being the good listener I am, I don't ask him to give examples. He has beliefs about what Indonesians are not good at too...like football, otherwise they'd be going to the world cup, like Australia and NZ.

Again I wander around to find the Merdeka guest house which has excellent rooms for Rp.70k. And there's an active street scene around it's area of town too. Then I head up the hill and take some more pfotos. But I don't go into the park that surrounds the the remains of the Dutch Fort de Kock. Or across the footbridge to it. Because, unlike appreciating one's history in Melaka, this costs entry money here...Rp.8k. Seventy five cents won't exactly break the camel's back...but it's more the principle that puts me off. So round in a circle and on the way back to base. This being Sunday, there are quite a few local tourists out and about too. Some appear to be groups of high-school kids, or university kids maybe...up from Padang no doubt...and all wanting to talk to a foreigner...to improve their English, and to...ow off to their friends in the process. I remember this from previous trips to Indonesia. It can become very, very tedious sometimes...so I refuse them...to their apparent, utter astonishment. Sorry guys, but I'm on holiday too.

Here's a question. “What's Your Opinion of Our Town? A question one of the university-student girls did ask me about Melaka. About Bukittinggi. The 'nice' things first. It's obvious that that the Minangkabau-style roofs, notably similar to those in Central Sulawesi and Borneo, are a kind of popular, touristy, hotel and government building motif. A symbol perhaps with the meaning that this is Minangkabau country. We're a distinctive people, one of many that make up the ethnic diversity of the 'country' of Indonesia. And it's a pleasure to see people walking again...unlike the Vietnamese, who go everywhere by motorbike. The locals here walk around town, using the opelets sure, but doing a fair bit of walking too in this hill town. In Vietnam bikes have completely taken over townspeople's lives. This makes it very difficult to walk anywhere in Saigon...bikes litter the sidewalks, parked...and at rush-hour, it's dangerous...they ride on the 'footpaths' at busy intersections. So that's nice about Bukittinggi. “But what are some other pros?”. I dunno...I can't put my finger on any right now. Oh, here's one, but it's just about the weather...it's nice to have a cooler clime...and the rain is a delight...not at all a hassle...given that it only happens late afternoons. The not so 'nice' things. Noisy mosques...nothing unusual. They're a general Indonesian hazard. There are 3 very close-by here to my digs at the Rajawali and it takes some getting used to! It reminds me of the saying that “religion is the opiate of the masses”. To the outsider it seems to intrude so much or at least so obviously, more into peoples' daily lives...certainly more so than in neighboring predominantly Muslem Malaysia. Another: Indonesia's more expensive than I thought it'd be for the "journeyman's" essentials of accommodation and land transport. Yet another: The smoke-filled atmosphere generally...except after rain. It's that time of year all around S.E.Asia...even up here. But I never made the effort to get out to the surrounding smaller towns and villages nestling in the mountains. About busy evenings on the streets, coffee shops and warung...maybe it's not such a habit up here anyway...but I seem to remember, that a lot more people hit the streets in the early evenings...that was 10 years ago, and especially in Papua and Manado. I thought at the time, it was a general Indonesian habit, which I think was right...but I suspect that in the interim, perhaps peoples' habits have changed...stay in to watch TV...play computer etc. just like in the developed West.

Mon. March 08. Up... check mail. My Mum is doing well according to my sister Irene. So, freedom for me for a bit longer. The usual Lontong shop is closed today and the new one further up nearer walk-bridge overhead is more expensive but has bigger servings but with less egg in. I head down to the snack shop...and what to do, where to go next? Because it's too expensive here. I hear that accommodation's really expensive in Padang now because it's scarce...due to the big earthquake 5 months ago now. A lazy day. But a decision is made. Why head south-west from here? Because I'm not going north out of the southern hemisphere, that's why. It's my first time down under the equator for a long time...it's just like superstition or some other kind of rubbish, but it seems like as good a reason as any right now! Lake Toba, the island of Nias and Aceh will have to wait. I guess that was already decided by going down to Melaka from Penang anyway. So I'm gonna move on to Lake Maninjau, then fly outta Padang, east to Surabaya. Well, Madura and maybe to Mt. Bromo. Whoa...what a decision! And I'm gonna find out about flights...yeah...on a plane! It'll be the first time I've flown in seven years! Gone through three passports but haven't been on a plane!

Afternoon...sleep, after which I walk to the bus terminal to find out the real prices to Lake Maninjau (Rp.13k). In the process I'm befriended by a local guy and have a coffee. It's that time of day again...rain...but it's a pleasant enough walk back to the Rajawali. Tomorrow I'll look book and pay for a flight to Surabaya after 2 or 3 days at Lake Maninjau. What a relief! Having that made that decision. “On Bukittinggi what do I think of it”? It's a rip-off...as dentist and German indicate...they've seen easy money is the past halcyon days of backpackers galore. They get their fair share of Indonesian tourists here to keep them going. I guess the Pizza Hut and KFC are more for them and the many 2 and 3 star hotels.

So my opinion of the 'high hill' town~Bukittinggi...it's "Bullshittinggi" to me ~ big bullshit [town]