MADURANS ~journeys 2010: journal with pfotos~Mar.21

~ some impressions ~

Sun. Mar.21. Dave's last day in Madura.. After housekeeping to music, he heads out and has a soto ayam at the usual place then pedals up to the park for the wifi. He encounters lots of local tourists at the historic main street mosque and at the palace. Later on Dave takes Adi's bike back to him after washing it down. “Saka lang kong” friend. Out of 'the Maduran living-room' into the Surabaya kitchen tomorrow. No definite plan of where to go next. Where to stay? The Paviljoen Hotel is apparently an option. It's where Adi stays. Dave wants to check out Pelni boats to Kalimantan.

Madura and Sumenep in particular. The central park with its on-line hot-spot right across from the historic mosque. The park has always been a hot-spot of sorts. It's situated between the palace and the mosque. The Sultan of Sumenep used to hold court here with his subjects. Another contrast ~ the colonial buildings and the post modern.

Other observations. D. detects that the Sumenep people think they're a cut above other Madurans. The famed bull races pit different areas in competition and indicates perhaps that they are provincial and intensely competitive. Slightly obese people. Sweet sugar drinks and fatty, deep-fried snacks. Delicious! There are some old people wandering the streets and hotels begging for money. No family?

You're a big curiosity attraction. In Madura these days they don't see [m]any foreigner tourists. There's a terrific ambiance and atmosphere in Maduran towns.

SUMENEP Asta Tinggi ~journeys 2010: journal with pfotos~Mar.20

~ the dawn at Asta Tinggi ~

~Sat. Mar.20~ Dave has a broken-sleep night. Now outside it's a bright early morn. To Asta Tinggi it is. To see the graveyard wherein the royal line of Sumenep are buried! He leaves at about 6am. There's no cloud in the east. The light's getting stronger by the minute. He thinks he should hurry but...he might get lost. The camera comes out at the bridge at the foot of the hill. It get some use even as Dave pushes the bicyle up the hill. Hey young, old-kid, you're almost middle-aged now! There's only one 'annoyer' hanging around the entrance when Dave eventually hitches up the bike to a tree. It's about 7am by this time. 'What a great day for pfotos', Dave remarks to no-one in particular. He spends the next couple of hours wandering the monumental burial ground undisturbed. He warms down by taking some snaps of the self in the room~

~Dave takes off to his friend Adi's for lunch. Arranged the previous day. Before that though, he looks with a sense of satisfaction at this fine mornings catch of pfotos. Right on time, Adi arrives on his motorbike from his workplace to guide Dave, who rides Adi's bicycle to his home. It's not very far away at all. Dave eats a lunch of soto madura...Adi's wife too busy with the new baby to cook. Delicious akeaways...in Adi's very pleasant little garden. Caged birds, trees and shrubs and a colorful parrot look on. Glad he had the gumption to take a couple of large bottles of coke for everyone to drink. The parrot's of an endangered species. There's an amnesty on these sort of pets, Adi explains mischievously. He couldn't turn the bird in, after 4 years. It's on a tether, but seems happy...has the other birds in their cages for company. As well there's a couple of chooks that peck around. Adi 'jokes' Dave about perhaps investing some of his money with him so he can buy his old granny's house next door. Wants to turn it into a homestay...for when the tourists return! Dave probably would if he could, but he can't. As usual the poor transient~

~On Dave's laptop, Adi and Dave together look together at some of the Kalianget and Sumenep pfotos. Adi returns the favor and gets out his album of a one months' visit, 3 years ago, to Holland, Belgium and Germany. Snaps of many buildings and people. Mostly older Dutch friends. Adi points out a 15 years old Dutch girl who wanted him to take her back to Indonesia and marry her! But Adi is already 'engaged' to his present wife. This Holland trip's the final fling of a single man in his mid-twenties. Today, he talks about the different approach the European 'woman' has towards obtaining sexual satisfaction. Dave leaves at 4~

~The Adi family turn up about 7pm at Dave's room at the Wijaya. All partake in sate together over the fence at the by now usual roadside warung. The 'Adis' leave soon because of the baby. Mrs. Adi's a very polynesian-looking, big, dark-skinned wife. Her wide, bright smile's very pacific too. She just wants to get home. Dave knows that Adi made the right choice of a wife. Dave's in need of an early nite! He's too tired to go up to the busy-evening town, like he wants to. It's especially busy on a Saturday night, according to Adi. Dave remembers from earlier visits to eastern Indonesia from PNG in the late 90s, that the great majority of young locals habitually hit the streets in the early evenings to eat, drink and socialize. A great atmosphere. Possibly Sumenep's the same. Dave however, relaxes on the porch at the room. He has to fend off an uninvited tourist-tout. He's persistent, seems poor. Offers his services as a guide. His English is very passable...at least on Sumenep attractions. No doubt, he's fallen on hard times given the lack of tourists after the 2002 Bali bomb 'incidents'~

~Dave decides that he'll leave for Surabaya day after tomorrow. It's time to move on again. He feels that he's explored enough of Sumenep for the time being. The middle-aged Italian's still here and they chat in very broken English. This European can't stand Sumenep. All the attention he gets...his broken English coming to life as he re-enacts the locals' reaction to seeing a tourist. But it's his money-making motives that have made Madura annoying for him. He's going to go to Sumatra next. He's looking to buy Vespas to send back to Italy! The Madurans indicate that they'd be more willing to buy them from him! His opinion of Sumenep, and Madura has no doubt suffered. “Merde, Sumenep, Madura, Indonesia”. He sees them as dogs he says “Like dogs...shit”. He'd love em if he was making money, no doubt. Takes all kinds~

...So if you can't stand the heat of all the attention being a 'tourist' at the moment in Madura brings...don't visit just yet. Madura's a friendly, interesting place to kick back but not everyone sees it that way: depends on your motives!

SUMENEP Birthday ~journeys 2010: journal with pfotos~Mar.19

~ fiftyseventh ~

Friday, Mar.19. What did you do on “three, nineteen” 2010? Another birthday has come bouncing and weaving around...again. Dave's special day. He's still tired from the exertions of the previous day's bike trip, and plans a quiet one. But it's a lovely fine early morning...no resting on his laurels t'day...and so he convinces himself by necessity to go out and take some 'good-light' photos...at the historic 'Agung' mosque on the main street, built around the 1780s, Dave thinks...by the Sultan of Sumenep, King of Madura. Dave's fotos turn out well on the whole. This is the story then...out early in the morning and in the late afternoon on pfoto expeditions from now on. Forget that middle-of-the-day exhausting stuff. To the Kraton the Sultan had built and the impressive edifices of the Royal cemetery, Asta Tinggi, up on the hill to the west behind the town. Must've been quite a guy. Sumenep must've been doing well economically in those days as an ally of the Central Javanese sultanates who had taken over from earlier Hindu, Borobodur rulers.

On the 57^th anniversary of his birth, Dave does the housekeeping. How mundane. He washes his clothes and shaves etc. He's got no shoes he can shine though. And he plans. He visualizes 'off to Kalimantan' next, in the coming weeks as the best bet. But today, he wants some techno-good luck in opening another g.mail address to start a blog. No, no laurel-resting t'day. By the end of the afternoon, he has had surprising success...considering the ridiculously slow pace of the public internet that he accesses from the KFC-style place on the square.

Dave has near-success with the first try at opening a blog but blows it by making a typo with the url address. This he corrects this later on in an evening session in the dark of the park. Amazing here in Sumenep in the park...people with laptops...no fear of muggings or theft! So eventually: daveinsoutheastasia is born, at 57 years old I suppose you could say. Dave doesn't realize the work ahead. An invisible fly on the wall notices that Dave has some 'moments' with the laptop in the park, though. Takes all his concentration...interruptions not tolerated. He rudely ignores an inquisitive country family who are excitedly showing their kids a foreigner...and a laptop. Dave hasn't got it all sussed. There's some stuff he can't work out, like how to upload to it. But he's on the right track when he rationalizes that this is not about his ineptness, but rather the tenuous, tediously-slow local internet connection. It's free.

The other techy thing Dave did on his special day was to check out the voice-recorder on his phone because it would be good to have some audio to put his pfotos to. It works but each time it's put into a new file...and he can't work out how to change this...a mere insignificant unsuccessful detail on March 19, 2010.And of course, his lack of computer savvy must've got him through...just follow the instructions! 'Hey, tick these off buddy' venting his happiness at being alive. G.mail addresses/check; blogspot/check; emails done/check.

So please...bounce me another birthday...but not too soon, OK.

KALIAGNET Madura ~journeys 2010: journal with pfotos~Mar.18

~ exhausting but rewarding ~

Thurs. March 18. Dave is much rested and motivated to get out and about today. Bugger the beach, which is about 25km away and probably not really that nice. He's off on his Kalianget bike trip instead. Unfortunately he starts late in the not so fine morning. After a short time, howerver, it gets very hot. He keeps on going though. It's a flat ride past rice fields and through villages that line the road. Pissing perspiration he manages to get the camera out when he comes across an old warehouse, some goats and then some old buildings. There are some wonderfully nineteenth century warehouse on the outskirts of Kaliagnet. I really dig the doors and the symmetry and utilitarian aspects of such buildings. Across the road there is another like it was a granary for rice storage.

In the east of Madura there's a definite, clearly-evident Dutch flavor to the buildings. There's something else too. It's a sort of Mediterranean-like feeling too. It shows up in the Sultanate's monuments...in the ordinary dwellings too. White-plaster walls and tile roofs. Influences perhaps from earlier Portuguese contact. The Portuguese were the earliest European colonizers in Melaka and east in Maluku, the Spice islands. Renovated, old, commercial buildings line the main road on the outskirts of Kaliagnet. Up behind these is the old colonial commercial centre of town. Dave heads round to the passenger part of the port, the Terminal Penumpang Kapal Laut. The idea is to take a break and internalize some much-needed fluid. He also has it in mind to visit some off-lying islands in the coming weeks. Perhaps he'll even leave Madura by boat to Java. To Jangkar, a port near Banguwangi and near the main ferry to Bali. That way he'd miss out the Surabaya city...again.

Highlights of the Kaliagnet trip include the store-woman who wants Rp.12k for a 10k pack of Marlboro. The difference is only 20 cents but hey! Dave points out the price which is printed on the packet..and that's what he pays. Shit, this sort of thing starts to get annoying...especially under extreme heat conditions. The man with the bike just wants to relax not haggle about prices. In the past Dave has scoffed at tourists arguing prices to save dimes. Imagine doing that all holiday! One big long argument. Yeah great holiday...and it was so cheap! It's been an awful long time since Dave's ridden a bicycle too. It's at least 25km out to Kaliagnet and back...and in the middle of the heat of the day too. He reminds himself to upgrade his planning and not to attempt this sort of energy-sapping outing again for a while.

A Kalianget story...by Adi:

He's with a Norwegian anthropologist, who's doing fieldwork for his Ph.D on local traditions and ceremonies. This would be a couple of years ago now. They're opposite the copshop, main street...on right before the ferry wharf to the off-lying islands. There's a couple of shots left in the anthropologist's camera. So Adi shoots the police station...which has a sign out front saying... “Welcome Home”... meant for returning Maduran illegal migrant workers from Malaysia. Policeman comes over and takes them to his office...grills them...wants to see ID papers and passports etc. Then Adi politely explains that he works for the government tourist office. He's 'an official' too. And what's more...he comes from Sumenep. The tone of the conversation changes and the cop's very apologetic.What's wrong with taking a photo or three...of a copshop anyway. Just like cops anywhere...bored. Wanting to throw their weight around and in Indonesia looking for extra cash. Well, it's not really extra...it's normal. And understandable...they get paid such low 'official' wages!

Dave has his theory about the countries of South East Asia and their level of 'development'. His index of how developed a country is, is to assess the 'official' wages/salaries of government public servants...like cops, teachers, and nurses etc.. He has met Cambodian English teachers who have to work at private schools [for a third of what he got] because they get only $50-60 per month. OK, that's before they charge the parents 'special' fees too. But to bump their income up a relatively liveable $200 a month, they work private too. Have to. To be able to support their wife and baby, and other family members...or save up the $4,000 or so it costs for marriage. Annual salary of $2.500! Lao is pretty much on a par with Cambodia. Vietnam and Indonesia are slightly more developed in Dave's estimation. Thailand's the most developed.

Dave gets back hot, thirsty and completely buggered again. It's been an interesting ride though. The buildings. Not hardly any 'modern' style Indonesian ones. For some reason he recalls what an American teacher-friend Greg, used to say about the Thais. When he was pissed off at them for any one of several reasons he'd moan: “...these people were all living in grass huts a hundred years ago”. It's great to have had the use of a bike to do such adventures. Stopping when feeling like it or when something interesting appears. The guys at the gasoline-loading wharf...'No smoking mister'...and the girls at the port, with their 'Hello mister' in soliciting tone... and the mostly-unemployed guide, outside the Chinese Temple...when Dave was exhausted...and he could only manage a limp but annoyed 'tomorrow' in reply. Not the temple tour guides fault Dave's getting old and didn't have enough gas left in his tank. Back at the Wijaya it's a quick evening sate ayam with the delicious rice again and then rest... pondering the images of the day still floating around in his head.

SUMENEP ~journeys 2010: journal with pfotos~Mar.17

~ Sumemep? ~

“Sumenep, 53km north-east of Pamekasan, is a more refined, royal town and the most interesting on Madura. You can see Sumemep's 18th -century mosque, and the kraton with its water palace and interesting museum. Asta Tinggi, the royal cemetery, is only about 3km from the town center” [Attribution: South-East Asia On A Shoestring Lonely Planet Publications 2001:232].

Wed., March.17. Saint Paddie's Day, but no celebrations in the rice-fields 'round here! Up, do washing and shave...those mundane, time-consuming chores that one has to do even on the Irish national holiday tempering my sojourn feeling. I do my own washing not to save money but rather because it's a self-sufficient, independent thing to do. I change from room #21 to #58. It's $1.50 per day cheaper but has a shared bathroom. #58's in a quieter part of this quite large and popular hotel. All but a couple of the rooms are on the ground. #58 has no view of the road though which is a bit of a shame. But to compensate it's at the back where the friendly truckies overnight. There are at least half a dozen every nite...out from Surabaya for 'their' companies, supplying the retailers here on Madura.

Again I think about the one month visa I've got. It's half gone already...and only a single full page left in my passport. Accessible finances stand at about US$ 1,500. Maybe I'm slowing down in my old age because I fuck 'round all morning. Really! I told myself last night that I should be on my way to the beach this morning and here I am cutting my nails. It feels like I'm kill time...for some obscure reason. Eventually I make it out around 1pm...taking the Italian man the t-shirts from the washing line he forgot when he shifted rooms. Over at reception there's confusion about room payment. She's confused me with him! I guess it's true what they say. We must all look the same after all. I suppose it's understandable...he's balding too and little beard.

Brunch of soto ayam which is rice-chicken soup. Simple, but delicious. Then I walk to find the former Kraton of the Sultans of Madura. This palace has got to be photogenic. I want to check out it for the best time of day vis a vis the light ~ the morning or the evening? The entrance to the Kraton gets busy with local tourists. My friend Adi's office is in the building built by the Dutch to keep and eye on and control the movements of the Sultan. I run into Adi. He gives me a map and introduces me to his boss. He says he'll see me at my place at 6...with the bike. And when I ask him about going to the beach he tells me he thinks it's too late for that today. He's right. I'm thinking if the bike is a good one, I can ride to the beach in the coming days. It could be an ideal mountain bike, but I find out later. So it's not difficult to flag the beach idea for today. These days are hardly great for a beach. There's been cloud with rain in the middle part of the last few days. It's the tail end of the wet season here.

I wander instead to the historic mosque right in the town center. The Kraton from the outside, is a bit of an anti-climax, really. But I know that the mosque is terrifically photogenic and I need to check it out now too. Morning light for the front is a foregone conclusion...it faces east. What's round the back though? The light's very flat at the moment with thick cloud cover but interesting. Could be great in the evening sun. But today I'm too knackered and don't have the patience to wait to see if the sun breaks through late, as it often seems to in the tropics. So I saunter slowly down the main street towards the Wijaya. It's down a slight incline away from the hill behind the town. It's there where the “Royal Cemetery” is to be found...Sumemep's other wonderfully photogenic historic attraction.

Back to the Wijaya traffic lights where I ate earlier. I take an "intersection" movie from the footpath while sipping some iced tea. Somewhat refreshed again, I head to the day market, which is back towards Pamekasan, less than a kilometre on the left. More short movies and stills as it starts to rain. Interesting in the busy morning here. The sun does comes out just like I thought it would as I retrace my steps once again back to the hotel and rest before Adi calls round. There's been some pretty active days since arriving in Madura after resting up at Maninjau. I feel totally buggered. Wonder if it might be time for another HIV test? I'm turning 57 day after tomorrow. I must have walked...I don't know how many kilometers in the past month? Hundreds! So maybe that's all it is. Or maybe I'm gonna have another twinge of dengue symptoms. This tends to happen when I get worn out for too long. I've had two dengue fever episodes since leaving NZ in '96...part and parcel I suppose of living the way I do in the tropics. I do hope I'm not about to get full blown dengue again, that's for sure. The last one time was horrible! That was exactly 8 years ago in Jayapura, Irian Jaya just when I turned 7 times 7...49 years old. If it hadn't been for Coco looking after me...I might have died. It certainly felt like it. At the time, at first, I thought I had malaria and took massive amounts of meflequine. It's the anti-malarial drug that sends certain emotionally-sensitive individuals mad. I certainly felt like I was knocking on...that door in the floor. Had amazingly colorful but distorted, disturbing dreams. On top of dengue fever's regular symptoms I was a very sick boy. Dengue delivers a high fever, desperately painful throbbing headache up behind the forehead and strange aching sensations in the bones and bone-joints. A blood test in NZ for Hepatitus anti-body counts and HIV in 2002 confirmed that I'd had two dengue strains.

Adi shows like he said he would with the mountain bike and all. After looking at some pfotos we go out through the side gate about 5 metres and have some cheap and delicious street food. Sate ayam comes with a great peanut sauce and the special rice 'nuggets' of this vendor have been boiled for an hour in banana-leaf 'sacks'. They are thick, sweet and filling. They cook a very similar rice dish up the river from Kampong Cham, on the Mekong River, Cambodia. Probably in many other districts of South East Asia too. Delicious.

Adi informs me that his baby daughter had a vaccination shot today and has bad reactions. He leaves at about 8.30pm to get rightly home to his family. I'm bushed. I drink coffee...ah...listen to Jimi H. and write up. I might take the bike for a ride to Kalianget in the morning. And there's a bull selling market in the afternoon tomorrow. Maybe some mosque shots if the weather's appropriate in the evening. Hey...best turn out the light and get some rest. It could be a big, high-energy day tomorrow. This holiday business can become quite hard work!

SUMENEP from Pamekasan ~journeys 2010: journal with pfotos~Mar.15-16

~ enjoyable short bus ride ~

Mon. Mar.15. Up after having the ghost experience and a couple hours' sleep. I'm checking out! I'm moving on to Sumemep. Should be about two hours by bus. I have a misunderstanding with the washer-woman. I try to help her out when I see her collecting the laundry etc. from the already-vacated rooms. I offer her mine but she will only take 'my' bed sheet and pillowcases if I give her money! Obviously doesn't realize I won't be needing them anymore. I get away from the Garuda Hotel at about 10am. Down the main street I walk...it's a fine day too...laden down in the now-hot morning air, and sun. A share-taxi-minibus picks me up. Sumenep's Rp.10k the local price. I get on-board and we travel slowly around town hustling for more passengers. Not a problem.

No hurry and the friendly driver offers me my first kretek in a long time. The Indonesian clove-tobacco poison's not too strong and I note the brand and price NeoMild/Rp.6k (16 batangs or smokes inside). Regular cigarettes at around Rp.15k have really gone up in price since my last visit. Once the minibus has six or seven passengers we head out of town. This doesn't look like the main road at first...but turns out it is. Somewhere along the line and we have a new driver who ambles sedately.

It's a great ride...through the countryside, along a little seashore...with it's guidebook predicted perahus or small, colorful outrigger fishing boats. I attempt a few photos from the moving vehicle but give up. Rice growing is a major rural preoccupation, around here not cattle rearing like I was led to believe. We pass one or two groups of people harvesting...but most of it doesn't seem ready yet. On getting into the outskirts of driver drops the other passengers at an intersection. He motions me not to get off insisting on taking me to close to the hotel where I intend to stay. The annoyance of the becuk riders is evident. This is the way to welcome endangered tourists to your town! Help them survive. After a drink and kretek with some locals across the main road where the van dropped me I check in. I didn't realize the Wijaya 1 Hotel was right here on the main road. I'd saddled up the backpack prepared for a good walk in the heat. The room's very adequate, although about a third of the size of the Garuda's. It's Rp.55k per night...bang on $6. Then I go for a walk up and around the new town even in the heat of the day. Why? Because....I love doing this! It's a buzz. Getting into a new town...mapless, wandering around, sauntering along...checking things out...stopping for a coffee and smoking a cigarette...chatting a little with the amazed locals....taking some snaps of whatever turns me on...great!

Two or three interesting things ensue...the purchase of the adapter...so I can use the single plug in the room for more than one thing at once. The first shop didn't care to think about what it was I was trying to purchase. I walk on to another one close-by. This is up on the main street of Sumenep. This time the distinctly Chinese-looking woman is instantly able to help me...and I purchase one three-way plug for Rp.5k. Another interesting occurrence is the case of the runaway becak. The guy leaves his machine to hassle me with words...trying to get me to take a ride. Then a passerby shouts to him...his machine is drifting aimlessly...and luckily harmlessly...across the reasonably busy intersection where he first engaged me. Laughter all round and no harm done. I get a 'hello mister' from not-so-young women...hookers. I just smile and pass on by. And a loud greeting by a passing guy on motorbike 'Bowray, apa kabar' in other words 'foreigner, how are you'. Fuckin hot, I think to myself...after the moment or two it takes me working out what he's said. After this I get kinda lost...and the gloss of exploring a new town kinda wears off quite quickly...but, hey, I love it. It's why I do these journeys in 210. Reminds me a lot of Trat, Thailand..which I know pretty...does Sumenep...what with it's quiet, narrow lanes and pleasant, liveable, substantial houses...well-maintained roads and tree-lined streets...and motorbikes, which are the main form of transport for the average local here...as they are just about everywhere, 'cept Malaysia these days. I finally make it back to the Wijaya...having to ask locals for directions on several occasions. It's been a good couple and a half hours...and I'm very tired. And I didn't see another 'bowray' either. Quick shower, then I replenish the lost fluids with fruit drink. Then the mad-dog, Scots/Kiwi sleeps...On waking, Adi's sitting outside on 'my' chair smoking. I don't know it's Adi. I haven't met him yet. In fact I think it's just another pushy local come to hustle the tourist...wanna go here, go there etc. But turns out different. Kuniadi's a local, about 35, I guess...maybe a bit less. He speaks very good English...has had a Dutch girlfriend, been to Holland in 2007...and he works for the government tourist office here in Sumenep. In short he's the ideal person for a traveler to meet. Quite possibly the old-girl hotel receptionist informs him when foreigners turn up at the Wijaya. Reading between the lines of our first conversation, he certainly knows that I stayed in Pamekasan and even knows my academic background...mentions anthropology. Maybe the Moslem teacher guy I met on the bus in Surabaya is a friend of his and informed them here. He told me his home was in Sumenep....seems very likely to me. Just like small towns the world over. Everyone knows everything 'bout what goes on, especially the arrival of a stranger...in these times!

At first I think he's just another slightly annoying guy...but he's not at all annoying. He nvites me to his house, giving directions on how to get there...“visit anytime” he says. But he means evenings, because he works days. He tells me he's got a 5 month old baby daughter. “What brings you to Madura”. “I'm not sure. Just a quiet out-of-the-way place that's got some beaches” I say and then explain that a friend of mine heard that the women here are very nice too. “I'm really not into supporting girls at the moment” I add. But he suggests, jokingly, that maybe I should “try one to find out”. He also tells me that he thinks that I'm the only foreigner for miles around here tonight. After about an hour of pleasant conversation, he says that he must go to the mosque now and we shake hands agreeing to meet each other again tomorrow. It's a Balinese holiday and although this isn't Bali, it's close enough. Evening warung, or eating stalls set up right outside the hotel fence. I go and have a slightly over-priced mee goreng telur...fried noodles and egg and return to sit and observe things from the shared veranda outside my room...which is great. Then disappear inside.

Tues. Mar.16. I wake up late...at about 9am. Must've been more tired than I thought. Coffee on the veranda. And blow me down with a feather if there's not an elderly Italian tourist in the next room! Where'd he pop up from? Two foreigners here on the same night. This probably hasn't happened for a while. Not a very talkative guy though...the language thing. My Italian's very rusty. He apparently arrived by bus from Surabaya latish last night. He's a retired guy by the looks...definitely not a backpacker! He finds the room not to his liking. Smells he reckons from the hotel's trash area about 5 meters from his door. So he moves to another room late morning. I leave for a walk up town.

Off to the square on the opposite side of the main road from the historic mosque. Adi told me about it. There's free wifi there he said...and he's right. I spend hours checking and writing emails interrupted by an afternoon shower or two. So I move to fried chicken place from where I can still receive the wifi signal. I mail my sister Irene, my kids, Kim and Ella and an old school friend Brent. I'm somewhat tired after writing reasonably long emails. Usually I just write extended notes. So should I do what I planned for the afternoon and go to Slopeng and the nearest beach called Pantai Lomburng? I choose to return to the hotel and sleep. Hey, this is a holiday...no need to rush around. I can go to the beach tomorrow...or the next day, or the next day. I never did get to Pantai Lomburng! On waking up I write up. Adi shows up again and we spend a long time talking. I show him my photos of Cambodia, Trat and Penang. He leaves because he has to be with his wife and daughter...but not before buying coffees and offering to lend me his bicycle tomorrow. To be a bit more mobile would be great for a change. So I take him up on it. He says he'll put some air in the tyres and bring the machine round in the evening tomorrow.

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.