Not wanting any more drama with my airplane tickets, I headed straight for the Bali airport with money and a few itineraries in mind, hoping that I could book most of my remaining flights for Indonesia, as I'd be in much smaller places soon with few, if any, travel agents and opportunities to book anything in advance. I spent about an hour back and forth between the offices of various airlines, verifying schedules and prices, finally coming up with a plan that would work. A few hundred dollars later, I felt a huge wave of relief, as I had all of my tickets for the remaining travel through Indonesia, so I wouldn't have to worry about that too much anymore. This was especially good because the tickets to one of the small islands I want to visit often sell out, leaving people stranded at the airport for a few days, so I was trying to avoid that situation as well. My only concern was one day I had booked a connecting flight with a different airline (much later in the day), so that shouldn't be a problem, but flights from these islands are sometimes randomly cancelled or delayed for days at a time, and no one really seems to complain too much, so I just hoped for the best.
With the plane tickets taken care of, I bargained for a cheap taxi (and had to walk out to the main road to find a good one), and went back into Kuta for the night, heading out of Bali late the next day. The cheap hotel where I stayed before was full, so I wandered around again, hoping not to repeat my first night in Bali where I walked for nearly 2 hours before winding up sleeping in the room of some strangers I met on the street. Luckily, I found one place nearby with one room left. At $20, it was a little more than I wanted to spend, but they wouldn't come down in price, and I figured that it was probably worth paying the extra $10 to just have a place and stop walking up and down the random streets, looking for a place to stay. As it turns out, I think I made the right decision, finding a few groups of weary backpackers walking the streets just after I checked in, desperate for a place anywhere in the area. With not much to do, I went back to the Bali Brazil Cafe for their beans and rice combo, a version of the Brazilian feijoada, and my fruit plate and relaxed.
The next day was pretty much uneventful, though I did see a massive rat scurrying through the airport, hiding under the green shrubs set out as offerings to the Hindu gods. My next stop was Sulawesi, a huge island/province to the North, formerly known to history buffs as Celebes and also world famous as a popular diving destination. My flight was scheduled to leave around 6 that night to Makassar, hopefully allowing me enough time to get from the Makassar airport straight to the bus station, trying to catch the overnight bus from their to the center of Sulawesi at 10 that night. Unfortunately, though not surprisingly, my flight was delayed once and felt like it was about to be delayed again when they called everyone to quickly board, giving me just a glimmer of hope for the evening. The seats were way too small on the plane, but it was only about a two hour flight, so my knees survived the crammed journey, and I hurried down to baggage claim and got a taxi, heading straight for the bus station around 9:15, hoping we'd get there in time for the 10 pm buses, and hoping there would be availability. Not knowing where I was going, I looked expectantly upon every large intersection or big building, hoping it was the entrance to the bus station, but we continued along the dark, empty streets, finally turning into a tiny road and deserted entrance to the dark station. It didn't look good for me, but I paid the taxi driver and rushed into the open-air station, looking for anyone around. A few lights were still on, and I found the stalls for the luxury overnight buses, just as they were starting to close, about 10 minutes before the buses were scheduled to depart. I talked with the first company, with no luck, moving on quickly to the second and third, finding everything booked for the evening and even most of the morning. Heading back to the beginning, the stalls were all closed now, and I didn't even have a ticket for the next day. Fortunately, I found one person remaining and convinced them to come back to their booth, selling me one of the last available tickets for the bus at 9 am the next morning. Though I didn't get the overnight bus ride, I was happy to just have a seat, not wanting to spend much time in Makassar and also glad that I'd be able to see the scenery of the ride into the mountainous interior.
Now, there was the whole issue of trying to find a hotel in the area, as my guidebook has absolutely no information on this location. So I headed back out to the front, where a few locals on motorcycles were chatting and smoking, asking them if there were any cheap hotels nearby. I wanted to walk, but after realizing there was nothing close, I reluctantly agreed to a ride on the back of the motorcycle taxi, called on ojek. He put my huge backpack between his legs on the scooter, barely leaving enough room for him to see ahead of him, and I hung on to the back with my smaller backpack still on, holding onto to the child sized baseball helmet that he offered me, way too small for my fat head. Trusting that he knew what he was doing and where he was going, we headed off, stopping not too far down the road only to find the nearest hotel completely booked for the night. Not speaking any English, he and I tried to decide where to go next, and we headed off down the main road, getting further and further away from the bus station where I'd need to return the next day. As he pointed off in the distance, I noticed a sign for a 'penginapan', another word for a cheap hotel, along the other side of the road, so we made a U-turn and headed back, finding a large hotel sitting fairly empty by itself on a huge patch of land near a government complex. The open walkway from the road brought us in, passing a few local playing badminton without a net in the parking lot. As I entered, just by the looks of the people, you could tell this wasn't a place where any foreigners ever stayed, but I didn't mind, and I found a room, which turned out to be slightly dirty and without any blankets, along with the traditional, dark, dirty Indonesian bathroom (mandi) which is basically a non-flushing toilet and a huge square tub of water with a ladel, used to both manually flush the toilet and to pour over yourself if you want to take a shower. Nevertheless, the place was good enough for a night, so I booked my room and walked back down the street looking for food. Locals stared curiously as I wandered along, finally finding a little cafe where I ordered nasi goreng, fried rice, as that's one of the few consistent, easy foods for which I know the words. Even so, the worker looked at me strangely, said a few things in Indonesian and prepared a local soup with a bit of vegetables and some random cow parts, which apparently is the specialty and only thing that they serve in that cafe. Luckily, the meal wasn't terrible, and it was less than a dollar, so it wasn't that bad.
I had seen that breakfast was included in the hotel price, but I was surprised to get a few loud knocks on the door at 6:45 the next morning, pounding until I finally opened the door to find the smiling young hotel worker holding a tray of food for my breakfast. I rubbed my eyes and took the tray from him. As nice as it was to have room service, I would have preferred if he had waited just a little bit later before delivering the noodles, rice, hard-boiled egg and chili sauce. So, awake already, I took my time watching my tiny tv with two stations, walking around the quiet area and packing my bags, finally heading out to the main road to catch a taxi or bus back to the bus station. Before I knew it, it was 8:30, and I had to be at the bus station at 9, though I figured I'd still be fine, deciding to take a motorcycle taxi, regular taxi or bus back, whichever stopped first. Soon, a blue minivan with no side door (allowing people to hop in and out) stopped (called a bemo), and I jumped in, again to the delight of a few locals and one small child who eventually gathered the courage to say hello. I told them I was taking the bus to Rantepao and needed to get to the station, and the driver nodded his head, and we were off. Unfortunately, these bemos stop at every possible intersection, honking and yelling in an effort to get more passengers. I still thought I'd be fine, but I started to worry after we stopped at one street for five minutes, waiting for people, though no one ever came. At this point, I figured I was close, but I was literally sweating, thinking about missing my bus and having to wait another day or two to catch the next one. I hadn't seen the bus station during daylight, so I couldn't tell how far we were, though I watched the minutes tick away on my watch. Only about 10 minutes until 9, I decided that if it wasn't the next stop, I'd have to jump off and catch a taxi, which is what I should have done in the first place. Finally, at 8:55, we stopped, and I popped up and was happy to see the driver pointing to a random bus on the side of a building. It definitely wasn't the station where I was the night before, but it seemed close, and it was a nice bus, so I ran down the alley to the bus, finding that it was indeed a bus to Rantepao, though it was a different company. I showed the driver my ticket, and he told me that it was a different station where I needed to be. So with my huge bags, I sprinted back up to the main road, hoping to find a taxi and someone that knew where to go.
Soon a taxi stopped, and I told him the station name and showed my ticket, and he headed back, taking his time down the road as I worried more and more about missing my bus that was supposed to leave literally at any moment. My only saving grace was the thought that Indonesian buses don't necessarily leave on time, though some of the luxury ones actually do. A few minutes down the road, he turned into another random building which wasn't the bus station that I had seen before, but I saw a bus with a Rantepao sign, so I paid the driver and rushed up to find that it was the right bus, and we were actually on the back side corner of the station. As it turns out, the bus didn't leave for another fifteen minutes, but I was ecstatic to have made it after having such a relaxed morning and then a rushed ride to get there. Sitting in the very back of the Greyhound-type bus, I looked behind me to find a little curtain above my head, revealing a tiny ledge where there were actually a few pillows and a blanket. Then, just as we started, one of the small Indonesians stepped up on the seat next to me and into the den, laying down for a nice sleep. The two workers on the bus sat next to me, waiting for the bus to leave and then pulling out a wooden palette made to fit perfectly in the stair well of the back exit. Once in place, it created a flat area upon which they placed some flattened cardboard boxes that they pulled out from under another seat, making a nice mat for the two guys who then laid out on the floor and napped for most of the journey. Later, I found that the guy sleeping in the tiny nook behind me was the backup driver who took over at the halfway point.
Passing along the coast for a while, the local houses were quite different in this area, most on small stilts or otherwise raised from the ground due to flooding, also having a little V or U shape made out of wood on the front peaks of the roofs, a trademark of the houses in this area. We finally stopped for lunch at a small cafe along the road, and I headed across the street to a tiny shop in the front of a local house where I bought some cookies, though the sealed package turned out to be infested with small ants, though that didn't stop me from eating them. A few young boys also rode by on their bicycles, staring as they passed me, then circling back to say "Hello", "Good Morning" (though it was about 3 in the afternoon) and "What's your name", the extent of their English. For the next part of the ride, we headed up and up, winding through the mountain ridges, revealing magnificent views of the deep valleys and steep ridges below, with sharp peaks poking into the sky, covered in thick green grass. Finally, around 7 that night, just as the rains came in, we reached Rantepao, and I found a hotel for the night, ready to explore the wonders of this highly-touted mountain kingdom.
0 comments:
Post a Comment