Bali Echo Visitor's Guide

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February/March, 1998
No. 033/VI/98

cover story

Galleries Galore
The boom in
contemporary Balinese
art

A Matter of Taste
Why bourgeois Balinese
are collecting art

beyond
bali

From Toraja to the
Togians
Sulawesi's most seductive
parts

Treading Lightly in
Lombok
Tips to being a green
tourist

regular
features

Weekender
The Saltmakers of Amed

Home Grown
Legian's Legend,
Made Kasim

Health and Beauty
The Ubud-based
Bali Utama Spice

Books
The search for the Great
Bali Novel continues

Cuisine
Bumbu Bali cooking
school

Fiction
Marni's Ride by
K. Landras Syaelendra

Jungle Drums

advertising index for
Bali Echo web site

Heading north from Toraja into Central Sulawesi, my friends and I experienced first hand the infamous pot-holed and damaged roads that service Sulawesi. Road trips invariably take longer than the distance might suggest, but fortunately the countryside is well worth looking at.

Still, it was with some relief that we spent a relaxing two and a half hours on the daily Lake Toba ferry to sleepy Tentena, famous for its culinary specialties of eel and gold fish. We ate at the small and friendly Rumah Makan Moroseneng that cooked these into a feast for us, even though they were not usually on the menu. Eel is a pricey delicacy normally only available at the more expensive tourist venues. However, over their open cooking fire the obliging staff produced a repast we would not quickly forget, preparing both the sugili (eel) and ikan mas (goldfish)in three different ways. There was more than we could eat for a mere Rp 15,000 each, and even the drinks were cold.

Further north in the Togian Islands, reachable by ferry from either North or Central Sulawesi, the Moslem faith predominates. In the little village of Katupat friendly locals invited me to their celebration of Mohammed's birthday. Some of the women proudly showed me the tree the villagers had made, with its colourful branches of paper flowers and hard boiled eggs, and its base of banana leaf packages containing cakes and sweets. At night the locals gathered around the earthen badminton court, lit by lights powered by a diesel generator, while the youths of the town demonstrated their sporting prowess. In a nearby house a group of older men practiced drumming and singing tracts from the Koran. When they saw me peeping in the doorway they waved their instruments and invited me to join in. Abashed, I assured them I was happy to watch and listen, along with the other women and children. A small child watched me with anxious curiosity, for white faces are not yet common in this part of the archipelago.

I was staying in friendly bungalows on a tiny island opposite Katupat, so close that during the day I could swim the hundred metres to the village through the clear, calm sea. A foot track wound through this garden of Eden, over the hill and down to an even smaller village on the sea on the other side. Here goats and half-naked children cavorted beside mangroves, and villagers carried heavy buckets of well water back to their simple stilt houses. I saw no roads, cars or motorbikes in any of the Togian islands; all travel was by foot or by boat.

One still, balmy night the locals who had befriended me bought fresh tuna from a fishing vessel that had docked in town at the rough wooden jetty. The salty aroma was strong in our nostrils as we traded packets of cigarettes for slippery silver fish. Small children milled about amongst the swarthy fishermen. Then we clambered down the jetty into our little outrigger and cast off, heading back to our own island. The full moon sparkled on the sea, illuminating the waving sea grass and tropical fish darting about just below its surface.

Despite being almost at the equator, the sea breezes of the Togians kept the temperature pleasant. The food where I stayed was abundant and excellent, and the locals incredibly warm and friendly. I extended my visit until the last minute, and had to fight tears when I finally left this idyllic place. A boat, a bemo then an overnight bus took me back to the capital, Ujung Pandang, where I caught my short return flight to Bali.

So I did not make it all the way north to Manado and its nearby Bunaken Island, but one of my companions did. She told me later when we met up in Ubud that the coral and fish deserve their reputation for some of the best diving in the world, but she felt that she too had left her heart in the Togians.

Above : Sunrise in the Togians Islands.

Photos by Janet Prentice