A break from it all on the Togeans

Moon-lit evenings, originally uploaded by Boris Hamilton.

We grabbed a packed 6am bus to make the 10 hour journey to the port town of Gorontalo, the jumping off point for the beautiful, remote Togean islands. The bus wound through stunning green hills, sweeping secluded bays and bright blue sea views, and we were tempted to ask to be let off to explore the beautiful countryside. There were only a few villages on the way which seemed to mostly live of coconut and clove plantations.
Finally arriving in friendly yet bland Gorontalo, there was nothing much to do but wait for the boat to the Togean islands. As the more modern, comfortable and faster ferry was being repaired we had to settle for the slower, smaller, wooden ferry.
Choosing economy class over a cabin, we made the 13 hour boat journey on a thin mattress squeezed in between locals practically above the engine, which made for a sweaty and cramped night. Initially heading for the further island of Pulau Kadidiri where diving was available, we realised that the few other travellers aboard were all heading there as well. On top of that we both caught a cold in Gorontalo and decided diving wouldn’t be wise. A snap decision was taken and we hopped off at the first port of call, the island of Malenge.
From the sole town on the island we took a long boat to a beach with 4 rustic bungalows to the other side. No connecting roads or paths, no electricity (so no World Cup), no running water and nobody else except the owner, his friend – an indigenous sea gypsy, and us; the only path we were told about led to two further beaches. We spent an extremely relaxing time reading and snorkeling, spotting sting rays and a multitude of colourful fish; our host also managed to show us a couple of coconut crabs, one of them big enough to snap off a hand it seemed. Though due to the lack of ferries, we reluctantly had to leave after 3 very peaceful days in our private, secluded, rustic resort – the next ferry was another week later which would have affected our plans too much. Having not missed commodities such as electricity and running water, the only thing we were looking forward to was a change of diet as the grilled fish and white rice was starting to become a bit repetitive.
The 8 hour trip south to Ampana which started at 4am turned out a wet and windy one spent sitting on our bags in the corridor and turned out to actually be less comfortable than the 13 hour one on the way in. Yet we weren’t planning on stopping there and with 3 other travellers we chartered a people carrier to Poso, another 6 hours along windy pot-holed roads. We stopped at a restaurant for dinner and to our initial disappointment, only grilled fish and rice was on offer. The food however turned out to be excellent and revived our appetite for fish and rice.
In Poso we only had time to catch up on the World Cup scores before a 6 hour kip in our rundown rooms. We headed off the following morning at 6am to start our 16 hour-long journey south to Rantepao, in the Tana Toraja region.
Small photo album here

The morbid market of Tomohon

A bloody pig head and cleaver, originally uploaded by Boris Hamilton.

Having orientated ourselves in Manado, we headed one hour away to the higher altitude of Tomohon, a small town at the base of Guning Lokan volcano. Staying at the foot of the volcano allowed us beautiful vistas of the hilly green scenery, and the owner of the bungalows we stayed in kept two, beautiful parakeets from Papua, as well as a baby monitor lizard and two small snakes, all picked up from various treks. He told us he previously had a crocodile, which he gave to a national park when it grew too large!
In the evening, having seen evidence of world cup fever from the ubiquitous huge flags blazing from every home, car and motorbike, we were disappointed and confused to wander through town and not find anyone watching. Finally, after hitchhiking to the next bigger town of Tomohon we came across a sole cafe with a tv, and managed to persuade the owner to change the channel from CSI to the first World Cup match.
The next morning we visited the gruesome daily Tomohon market; as well as the usual array of goods the market also sells dog meat, bat meat with complementary wings, snake, lizard and even monkey (being devout Christians in this part of Indonesia they do not have the same food restrictions as the other main religions, which the locals seem to relish). We arrived (thankfully) too late to see the slaughtering and singeing, but the array of bloody carcasses was morbidly fascinating. The most macabre part was seeing the cages crammed full of whimpering, scrawny dogs, located close to the butcher tables where the fresh dog meat was on display. And the price for a whole dog or monkey? 300,000 rupiah ($30).
After wandering around, we caught a bemo to the sulphur lake of Danau Linow, a very peaceful spot. At first we were the only people, but we were joined later by a local pastor, which allowed us to get an insight into the religious composition of Indonesia, the recent Muslim-Christian religious tensions in central Sulawesi and how for the most part religion is no longer a source of conflict for most Indonesians.
Our healths took a knock though and unfortunately during our last two days there we did not manage to climb the nearby volcano.
Tomohon market album here.

A taste of Borneo and off to Sulawesi

Hornbills, originally uploaded by Boris Hamilton.

On leaving Sabah for the Indonesian side of Borneo, we stopped for a night at the river town of Sukai in order to go on a river safari along the Sungai Kinabantangan. Due to mass deforestation, this sliver of rain forest packs in a lot of wildlife, and so the chances of actually seeing some is high. On our misty, dawn cruise we saw noisy black gibbons, abundant probiscus monkeys (first called ‘Dutch man’ by the natives, due to the ‘similar’ larger size of European noses), kingfishers, hornbills, a kite and other birds.
Our port of entry into Indonesia was from Tawau in Sabah, a concrete uneventful big city, where we hung around for two days waiting for the boat to take us to Nunukan in the Indonesian province of Kalimantan. Upon arrival we were taken aside and asked a few questions by immigration for the first time on our trip, and had to show what ‘medicines’ we were carrying. Our bags were never checked though, and after showing him our small medical kit and aspirins, he let us go, assured we weren’t drug smugglers, and even helpfully suggested a place to stay (there only being 2 hotels in town). Nunukan barely sees any foreigners, and if it does it is only people who are passing through, like us.
We were undecided how best to proceed to Sulawesi: a very long boat trip or fly. Seeing as the few travel agencies were empty or closed, the manager of the hotel was very helpful in arranging things; he was used to confused travellers ending up on Nunukan as they tried to make their way through to the rest of Indonesia – travel in Kalimantan alone is a headache. We later joined the evening English class he runs, where we spent an hour trying to coax six very shy, giggly teenager girls to chat to us in English, and who became much less timid for the mandatory photo session at the end.
We ended up taking a boat to the island of Tarakan, and then a flight to Balikpapan, where we had six hours to kill before flying to Manado in North Sulawesi – it was down to this or a 60 hour ferry trip.
Manado is a fairly modern city with a few shopping malls, and like most of North Sulawesi, is staunchly Christian. Wanting to stretch our legs after a day of travelling, we went for a brief walk before bed, ending up at sitting at a busy square with a church, enjoying a beer and watching the drama of one very drunk young woman who was causing havoc getting into cat fights, which the police had to break up. An interesting start to Sulawesi!

Meanderings in multicultural Melaka

Streets of Melaka at Night, originally uploaded by Boris Hamilton.

We headed off to Melaka for a short week to hook up with Barry and Rima, friends from Brussels who were spending their holiday in Malaysia. Melaka was actually the second stop on our travels eight months ago, but at that time we only had a day to do some quick sight-seeing.
This time we stayed in the old Chinese town centre; a UNESCO world heritage site, and visited stunning 500 year-old Chinese houses built by wealthy immigrant merchants who married locals, creating the unique ‘Baba-Nonya’ culture. The houses were 30-40 meters deep, lavishly decorated and with open courts in the middle that let in natural light and rainwater. Rima was able to translate some of the Chinese signs which added some insight, and she also continuously surprised local merchants by conversing in Mandarin with them. The weather was very hot but luckily the many laid-back boutique cafes served as a great retreat from the heat. Strolling around Chinatown in the late evening we came across a couple of butchers slaughtering pigs in their open workshops, which actually spilled out onto the pavement. Despite it being past midnight, several customers actually dropped by to pick up a tasty chop or two, and an occasional rat slunk in to have a sneaky nibble when the workers weren’t looking. Pity the person who ended up with that pork loin.
We also discovered the last workshop in Melaka to produce tiny shoes for womens’ bound-feet; a dying Chinese custom. A Reuters media team happened to be there at the time, making a small feature story about the manufacturing of this increasingly obsolete type of footwear. The shoes were frighteningly small, the size of a small child’s foot, although it must be said that most shoes are nowadays produced for show only. Coincidentally, our education in the various, extreme and often disturbing ways that people around the world alter their physiques in the name of beauty was continued when we visited the world ethnic beauty museum later in the week.
On a quiet Sunday we took a taxi out to the ‘Portuguese square’ which at first was highly disappointing:it turned out to be more of a parking lot with overpriced sea-food joints. However, walking through the neighbourhood we met some of the highly devoted Christian locals; descendants of Portuguese immigrants. Despite increased development in the Kristang community over the past few years, community values have not changed and religion along with fishing seem to still play a predominant role in their lives – at least on Sundays.
To round off our multicultural week, we ended up discovering a great cheap southern-Indian restaurant which we regularly and excitedly returned to.
A special thank you to Barry and Rima!
Full photo album available here.

A break from all the travelling in Sabah

Mount Kinabalu, originally uploaded by Boris Hamilton.

We spent six weeks in Sabah, East Malaysia, doing decidedly untouristy things. We didn’t climb Mt.Kinabalu, the ‘highest mountain in SE Asia at 4095m’ (actually there are higher peaks in Papua and Myanmar), dive world-famous reefs at Sipidan, trek through pristine rainforest and see orangutans at Sepilok’s feeding station. There were two reasons for this: one is the shockingly expensive price for tourists (relative to this part of the world) to enjoy these natural wonders of Borneo, which mostly have to be booked through tours. As one tour agency said,’We don’t want these backpacker types coming here, thinking they can do all these things on their budget. We want proper tourists who will spend money’. Since Sheza was here eight years ago, this little corner of Borneo has slowly but surely shaped itself into an exclusive holiday destination, with all the modern comforts and the price tag to boot. The worst thing about it is that it often isn’t justified: for example, the fee to climb Mt.Kinabalu goes to a private company.
The second reason was that we were spending time with Sheza’s Malaysian friends; staying at their houses and flitting between the capital of Sabah, Kota Kinabalu and Kota Belud, the market town where Sheza lived and worked in 2002.
We spent lazy days wandering around air-con malls, discussing Malaysian and Sabahan politics over beers, condemning and trying to convert the army of Malaysian Chelsea supporters in vain, watching the final days of the Premiership, eating delicious Sabahan food at Grace Point, ensuring Boris tried durian – an incredibly offensive smelling fruit that tends to have the ‘marmite’ effect on people; he hated it – and singing in Karaoke bars in the evenings. Sheza even celebrated her birthday in true SE Asian style at a Karaoke joint, complete with a birthday announcement, cake and mandatory song she had to sing.
Whenever we felt like a change, we escaped the city by going to lush, green Kota Belud, where we visited Sheza’s old school, SMK Arshad, went swimming in the cool river, enjoyed stunning views of the mountain and walked through the local market.
We got the chance to attend a traditional Dusan engagement party (where Boris was paid to be the photographer), and a raucous Dusan wedding, where beer and palm wine flowed and dancing to traditional tunes as well as bass-heavy western tunes was a must. We also encouraged our concerned host to let us wander through the Filipino ‘slum’ in the centre of KK, accompanied by a Malaysian photographer friend who usually takes pictures of weddings and models (link to the album is here – a set Boris is pleased with). It was interesting seeing this small community living on stilt houses over polluted, smelly waters, most of the community probably illegal, or if not, at least unwelcome, and surrounded by modern hotels and chic shopping blocks. The adults were friendly and welcoming, and as we have found so often in SE Asia, soon enough we had a gaggle of curious children following us, shyly at first and then more confidently, laughing and joking. Our hosts had warned us that it would be dangerous but bar a couple of glue sniffers pacing the treacherous wooden walkways, people here were a lot more open than those in the city.
We would like to thank our generous hosts and friends Franky and his family, Lelen and her family, Adzley, Alfian, Mr.Ashmir, Ms.Catherine and SMK Arshad four making our time in Sabah a memorable one.

Beaches, friends and the underwater world

Teluk Dalam, on the Perhentians, originally uploaded by Boris Hamilton.

Back in Bangkok after our time in Myanmar, we took up on the kind offer of accommodation from Boris’ friends, Greg and Kate.
Finding ourselves with time on our hands in Thailand as Boris’ main camera lens needed a week to be fixed, we decided not to waste it in a huge metropolis when there were gorgeous beaches that beckoned nearby. We made the smooth and short journey to the island of Ko Si Chang, a small island with a busy port on one side and a lovely beach on the other. Whilst it doesn’t have the beauty of numerous other Thai islands, the main white sand beach where we stayed had huge rolling blue waves which were good fun and a great restaurant serving delicious Thai seafood. When we arrived it was clearly holiday time for the locals too, as the beach was busy and the nights were noisy with guitar strumming teenagers, but after the weekend it calmed down and we were able to enjoy the place at our leisure.
After a few days, we headed back to Bangkok to collect Boris’ lens, and plan our escape route into Malaysia: with the annual Songket water festival imminent, transport was fully booked. Luckily, after persisting via phone and personal appearances, we managed to get on a train heading south to Hat Yai, and passed a very pleasant journey in 2nd class sleepers in a carriage full of Thai locals, watching the entire length of south Thailand whizz by.
After boarding a bus and then walking across the border we were in Malaysia, back in the town of Kota Bharu where we had been eight months previously. It seems we timed it just right, as chaos and violence broke out in the streets of Bangkok the day after our departure. After ensuring we fit in a visit to the amazing night food market, we headed the next day to the beautiful Perhentian islands. Staying on the tropical, powdery white sand beach of Teluk Dalam beach on Pulau Besar, Boris completed his open water diving course and Sheza requalified. We did some amazing dives here, seeing turtles, bamboo sharks, huge rays and a stunningly colourful array of fish, all of which was added to by having an amazingly patient, passionate and enthusiastic dive instructor, Mel.
We reluctantly left the island after our last day of diving, and headed overnight to Pasir Gudang in the South to stay with friends, before flying to Sabah.

Hpa-An, by the Thanlwin river

Ditto, originally uploaded by Boris Hamilton.

We travelled from Moulmein to Hpa-An on the much-talked about local ferry which goes up the Thanlwin river through beautiful countryside stopping in villages, some of which have no road connections. Unfortunately, despite the warm welcome signs written in English, most of these rural havens are not part of the government’s planned tourist-trail so we could only exchange glances with the locals from our ferry and watch as families welcomed back their relatives returning with plenty of supplies from the big city. The surrounding landscape during the journey was mostly flat at first, full of sugarcane fields, until we slowly approached Hpa-An under an increasingly blazing sun, where limestone outcrops broke the flatness of the horizon. On top of many of the outcrops were stupas, some poised on ridiculously steep and awkward ridges.
We arrived in the late afternoon and headed for the main accommodation in town; the heat had yet to subside. We enjoyed a last evening in the company of Piotr, finishing off the lovely Polish vodka he had brought with him after a tasty Burmese curry. The following morning we got up early to see Piotr off on his bus and thanks to the common delay in transport, even had time for a last Burmese tea. Temperatures soared to 42 degrees celsius according to the local paper, so we spent the day wandering around the small town, and escaping from the heat into an internet cafe.
At 1am that night, we both woke up due to the stifling heat, and noticed that the air-con had stopped as there was a power-cut on our side of the street. We opened the window in an attempt to get a breeze going but this led to a mosquito invasion and did not cool the room down much either. We abandoned all hope of sleep until power resumed and sat out on the communal terrace for a good hour, watching drunk policemen go home and dogs loiter the streets.
The following day we set out by moto to discover the surrounding countryside and a few sights not too far. We had high hopes for the immense Sadar cave (also known as Satan’s cave), but our experience was ruined by a possibly-drunk, groping monk. A pagoda is set-up in the first large chamber of the cave and this is where the monk latched on to us. We noticed something was wrong with him very soon as he kept touching us and nearly burned us with his tiny candles, despite us being equipped with a torch. Feeling increasingly uncomfortable as he insisted on touching us, grabbing our arms and even putting an arm around Sheza’s waist (Buddhist monks are not supposed to touch women), and responding with giggles when we firmly protested, we finally decided to call it a day and leave. Before heading off for good and to our complete bemusement, he even had the audacity to ask us for money. We were left wondering if he was drunk or mentally ill; in any case we sadly never managed to venture through the long cave to reach the lake on the other side.
We headed to the next site taking shortcuts through the beautiful rural countryside using the limestone outcrops as points of reference. We eventually got to a local picnic spot that had been recommended to us, but it was ruined by the crowds and a cacophony of noise created by religious readings blasted through loudspeakers combined with pop music being played by teenagers on possibly their first bender. After a quick lunch we headed off to Kyauk Kalap, a pagoda built around a protruding rock on a small man-made island. This site was wonderfully peaceful with nice views from the top of the rock where a Monk had just finished meditating.
In the afternoon we stopped to watch workers return home through the lovely golden paddy fields after a day’s harvesting and then went for a drive along the river stopping in a small town where a man had just finished wriggling up a tree to collect palm wine, and kids were having a bath in the canal. We finished off the day watching the sun set over the beautiful scenery.
Boris got up in the middle of the night to watch the first leg of Arsenal-Barcelona in a small front room with two TVs showing both games and crammed with 60 other locals including young Monks. Some teenagers were left bemused at Boris’ passionate reactions during the game and in all it was another football game that would not be forgotten thanks to the original setting and company.
Unfortunately Hpa-An was our last stop before returning to Yangon for a night’s sleep before catching our flight to Bangkok. Myanmar was always going to be an interesting place to visit but it managed to exceed all our expectations. On the basis of our experiences and what the locals told us, we can only recommend people to visit this country (as long as you don’t go with a tour group) and meet some of its wonderful people.
Hpa-An photo album available here