I arrived in Ambon on a Monday and there were two options of getting from here to Banda: a reasonably priced flight or a Pelni ship headed from Sulawesi to Timor which stopped briefly in the islands. By now I shouldn't need to explain the problems associated with the schedule (or lack thereof) of the Pelni fleet. The once-a-month boat which was headed that way was, or was not, coming within the week. No body really knew about this. So it seemed the best option to reach the islands was a 16 seat, small, twin-engine airplane which departed only on a Wednesday and a Saturday. The low frequency of flights meant that the Wednesday flight had already been fully booked so I secured myself a seat on the Saturday flight and headed to Pulau Saparua, east of Ambon on a public boat, in the meantime.
 |
| Exploring rockpools |
Life in Saparua is meant to be easy. Accommodation was a small room in collection of about 5 set back less than 50 meters from the beach and overlooked by an old Dutch fort. Afternoons were spent lazy in the hammocks strung underneath overhanging trees on the beach with a good book. This was of course in-between swimming in the consistent 27 degree water and exploring the rock pools up the beach. A full, fresh, seafood dinner, if you wished, could be served to you on your porch while you watched the water and the setting sun. Otherwise grabbing some street food, a few cold Bintangs and sitting on the beach under the stars was another great way to enjoy the evenings.
 |
| Hidden beaches |
This small sea-side village, to me, is the very definition of Indonesia. The consistent 'mister-misters,' only speaking Bahasa Indonesia, playing volleyball and soccer with the kids, being disgraced by my extremely little knowledge about the World Cup (the kids know everything here, EVERYTHING!), exploring the local market and trying new unknown foods, hitching rides in the back of trucks and hiking about discovering non-lonely planet listed beaches. The kids and people in Saparua are amazing which I think is contributed to by the non-existence of any 'tourism,' in the classic sense at least. When people aren't trying to make any money from you, it's amazing how much they have to give. It's places like Saparua that make you realise that the world is full of great people.
 |
| Mosque at Booi village |
Around Ambon this was no exception. At one point, after making my way to Booi village on the west side of the island, I realised that there were no ‘warungs’ or ‘rumah makans’ in which to acquire lunch. For those who know me well, they know that this could pose some problems, mainly for those who have to deal with my food related (or lack-there-of) mood changes. Graciously, a kind old lady invited me to eat in what I could only assume was some sort of community centre (childcare, medical or something?) with the other people they were feeding. So sitting on the floor cross-legged with the other old men and ladies I enjoyed a simple meal of rice and vegetables. The generosity of people who have little to give continues to amaze me.
So the options for leaving Ambon were these: a flight for a considerable fee or, a 'luxury' Pelni experience for about a fifth the price and only 20 times longer. In the interest of conserving as much cash as possible, and of course in the name of adventure; I'll give you one guess which option I chose. Matching the size of the Umsini, the Ceremai was all the things I'd become the expect from a Indonesian cruise ship.
 |
| Sunrise with the crew |
Food on this journey was somewhat better than that of the last however, I wasn't willing to risk it and bought myself plenty of 'telur kacang' and 'tic-tac snack,' the only Indonesian snack-food substitue for a meal. There's only so far though that these will get you and after the better half of 2 days and 2 nights aboard the boat, I was well and truly hanging for some nasi goreng.
Arriving in Makassar back in Sulawesi, and deciding that my body clock hadn't nearly had enough of a flogging, I decided to mission on to Tana Toraja before, as luck would have it, there was another Pelni to Maumere in Flores in 3 days time. The fact that there was one any time soon surely proved that it was meant to be.
Toraja was absolutely amazing. I was fortunate enough to arrive the same day Pasar Bolu, the big animal market, was in full swing. I could happily spend hours walking around markets observing the people, digesting the smells and sights and dreaming up endless possibilities of culinary delights. The big draw-card about the market that day was the buffalo which were being sold for eventual sacrifice to the gods in exchange for deceased family members' ascent in to the afterlife. If you happen to arrive on the right day, you can actually see this happening on a day of the 5 day traditional Toraja funeral ceremony.
 |
| Traditional houses in Torja |
Unfortunately I had not arrived in the peak of funeral season (I'm not kidding, this exists) so I spent the day walking barefoot and knee deep through rice paddies as I made my way from an amazing viewpoint at Batutumonga, through small villages, back down to Rantepao. Little old women working in the rice paddies helped me to find my way by pointing me along small paths along their edges. People in the villages were all smiles as they asked me the usual questions. A dialogue for the day went a little like this: old lady (in Indo), 'where you from?' Me, 'the top.' Old lady, 'where you go?' Me, 'the bottom.' Old lady, 'oh.' I'm not sure if that was exactly the information they were looking for, but they seemed content with my response. At one point I yelled (in Indonesian) to a little boy, 'how are you?' To which he replied, 'I don't speak English.' Perplexing, I did have a little laugh to myself though. Nothing beats the smiles on the faces of everyone who you're willing to stop and have a conversation with in either Bahasa or English. I'm sure it brightens their day as much as it does mine.
The completion of the Pelni trilogy was the leg from Makassar to Maumere in Flores. A shorter trip than the last, but equal to that of the first, this trip was surprisingly delightful compared to the previous trips. The boat was smaller, less crowded and considerably cleaner. It wasn't long before being intercepted by one of the officers who introduced himself as, 'Mr Hankey. No hanky panky.' To this, I nearly wet myself laughing. Mr Hankey's hospitality was amazing! I spent the journey after this in the bridge room with the captain and other ship crew. Hankey even made me a meal and offered unlimited use of the crews' tea and coffee supply, the best! I think that this qualifies as the Pelni equivilant of being upgraded to first class. Chatting to Hankey about the ship and him telling me about others who had braved the journey I asked him, 'When was the last time they were on the ship?' He replied, 'Oh about 4 months ago. But you are the first Australian I think. Yes, Kylie, you are the first Australian on my ship.' Later in Java I was talking to an Indonesian guy who said that one of his first childhood memories was seeing Kylie Minouge singing 'Locomotion' on the TV aboard a Pelni from Jakarta to Surabaya.
Up until this point I had spent the previous 5 nights 'sleeping' on Pelni's or night buses (if there's a night bus I take it for sure, saves a nights accommodation expenses) and the past 8 nights up before 5am. So needless to say, I was ready for a little R&R. A small bungalow on the beach in Waiterang, really in the middle of nowhere, some kilometers east of Maumere was a perfect place to do this.
Next up Chapter 3: Westboung, Flores and the simple things...
