Nomad in Jogjakarta

A Nomad has arrived in Jogjakarta, Java, Indonesia. The port city of Jogjakarta is one of Indonesia's foremost cultural centers located in the south of its' most populated island. Early morning 4 o'clock a Nomad wakes up in Legian/Kuta to take the first plane out of Bali. Taking off 6 o'clock and arriving about the same time in Jogjakarta on Java. Once again a Nomad has traveled back in time.

Although Java is a pre-dominantly Muslim island, much of the arts of the old Javanese culture are in fact rooted in it's Hindu traditions. The 'Dalang', master puppet player at the Jogja(Sonobudoyo) museum, is adamant muslim Javanese are quite aware that their Hindu heritage is an integral part of their identity. "These arts and traditions were here long before we became muslim.", he says. He also ensures me the nightly 'Wayang Kulit' shows are not performed for the sole benefit of tourists and is in fact still quite popular with the natives. The fact that he will be the last in a long line of Dalang as his children have decided upon different careers does however indicate times are changing.

Fortunately for the old arts, ever since the Sukarno government started solidifying a strong national consciousness in the 50's, all indigenous culture, especially the Javanese Hindu one, was heavily promoted. Jogjakarta's cultural manifestations also enjoyed support from Indonesia's second president: Suharto. A Jogjakarta area native Suharto, Indonesia longest ruling president, was often called the great puppeteer of Indonesia himself.

Jogjakarta is also the only place in the entire nation where the old nobility retained a certain degree of political and governing power. Having been consistent in opposing both Dutch and Japanese colonials the Sultan of Jogjakarta had earned great respect among the republican revolutionaries. The Jogjakarta sultanate might be considered the closest thing to an authentic Indonesian Royal family. Another reason Jogjakarta remained at the center of Javanese cultural manifestation as much of its high culture had been developed and performed at the courts.

***

Batik time

Strolling into town along the busy Marlioboro main street, which runs down from the railway station to the city's center at the Kraton (Royal Palace) I catch glimpses of old colonial architecture before I take a turn right to explore a Batik work shops and galleries. A common ploy to lure visitors to Batik shops along M.street is to tell them they are extremely lucky to find this is the last day of a national Batik artist exhibition in town. This will then take them to the shops. Which isn't too bad if you want to see some good Jogja batik like me.

I arrive at a (work)shop where I am explained the process of the Batik art and able to look at a wide range of pieces. My eye soon catches an artist with an explosive and detailed abstract style and after due deliberation and taking care in choosing the finest pieces I decide to start the bargaining game. The prices are quite steep with 'fixed' prices for medium size pieces starting at 750.000 rupiah. As both domestic and foreign tourists tend to buy at top prices regularly it's hard to get prices down, but I manage to get 3 beautiful pieces for 500.000 each. I am sure on a better day I could have done better, but I am very happy with my purchases.

The red piece.

With regret I find myself unable to afford a fourth piece, a 2 by 1 meter big red piece of the same well known Batik artist. The start price was 3.5 million and the shop wont go lower than 2 million, while I had decided that 1 million was my best price for this remarkable piece. Soon after leaving the shop with my newly bought Batik paintings, a young kid comes out of nowhere. I had noticed him in the shop earlier where he was paying close attention to the bargaining. He tells me he is the son of the painter and his father is in need of money and willing to sell the piece directly to me without involving the shop. Scam or no scam, the beautiful red piece flashes before my eyes. I am such a sucker for expresive colours...
So scam or no scam, even without the assertive son of a hospitalised ill painter in need of cash, I am willing to buy the red piece at my bottom price. The young man tries to get 1.5, but I stick to my price. An hour later my beloved big red batik piece is brought to my hotel and is finally in my possession. For a moment I can't decide to admire or abhore the Javanese talent for elaborate scheming. Or perhaps just consider myself lucky that the painters son was in attendance and offered me this opportunity. In any case it was an interesting experience and one thing is for certain the big red piece sure is beautiful.

Nomad back in Bali

A Nomad is back in Bali today. This is my 5th time on the island of Demons & Deities. But this time I arrived on a mere 60 minute domestic flight from Flores.

Thursday morning the 19th of August in the hillside Puncak Waringin Hotel in Labuan Bajo, Flores, I finish my delicious cup of sweet Flores coffee, taking a last look at the splendid Nusa Tenggara sunrise. 20 minutes and 20.000 rupiah later I arrive at the airport to board my domestic flight to Denpasar, Bali.

During check in my 'barang', trolley, is put on the scale. 21 kilos, only one kilo over the max of intra island flights. Just as I planned when I put all the heavy stuff in my hand bag. But then they ask me to step on the scale as well. Carrying my hand luggage... Now that gave me a flashback to all the times the past few months that my beloved wife stepped on the airport scale during each single check-in, just to be told to get off. How ironic my fellow Nomad wasn't here this time.

***

At the airport of Denpasar I arrange a Hotel in the Legian neighborhood, next to Kuta. I asked for something cheap in Seminyak, but that doesnt exist apparently. So there I am walking the day away through the familiar chaos of Bali's southern tourist areas. Plenty of familiar spots and a lot of the recognisable south Bali street hustle. But unlike past visits somehow this time it struck me as boring and even irritating. Maybe it was the culture shock coming from Flores or perhaps because this time I got here in less than 2 hours, unlike the long international flights from Amsterdam airport.

How quickly these sentiments melted away once I purchase a Bali baopao from a street vendor. "Satu berapa, Pak? Tiga ribu. Ow boleh ya. Minta satu." Yummie. In high spirits I continue for a 6 hour city hike through the urban jungle of Kuta, Legian and Seminyak, only to stop at a 'Warung Minang Kabau' for dinner. "Mau makan? Ya silahkan. Satu porsi sateh Sumatera. Pakai longtong? Enak. Minum apa? Teh botol. Tigabelas ribu rupiah, pak." It's so easy to make this Nomad happy.

Walking these streets the continues moaning of the words "transpor???" and "massaash???" sound funny. Especially the occasional "hasjies???" make me laugh out loud. I cant help myself with responding with: "No, I'm from Amsterdam." Some things never change, but some things have changed. The street hustlers seem to have become fluent in Japanese and sometimes mistake me for a 'Samurai', or 'Sumo' perhaps. The Japanese tourists seem to like it I notice. Unfortunately for severely stunned street hustlers I feel the need to reply in kasar Malay.

I switch profiles along the way though. Speaking Indonesian when I want to purchase with locals at local prices. (Food mostly of course) English in the upscale shops. But always say 'Belanda' when they ask me where I'm from. The lady at the Jakarta owned Indonesian fashion shop 'Pithecan Thropus' seemed shocked by my reply, even though we had been speaking English all along. "But your face is Indonesian?!?", she stammers. Well I guess it is then, when she says so. From then on I start noticing the street hustlers sometimes look unsure how to approach me and when they cant make up their mind sometimes refrain from their usual moans. I guess their thinking: "Dari mana dia? Bule, tidak. Jepang? Jakarta?"

Another clear change to previous visits is the number of French here. Also on my slow boat to Nusa Tenggara they were in the majority. I guess they must love Bali. There's high culture, great cuisine... and it's cheap. And of course you can smoke anywhere you like. Well let's see what happens when Bali completes its' implementation of their new smoking regulations, prohibiting smoking in all public areas and law breaking smokers can be jailed for up to 3 months.

So far so good for a smoking Nomad.

Nomad in Flores

A Nomad arrives in Labuan Bajo in west Flores.

Even though the Weber Line running through the North and South Moluccas is considered to be the borderline between Asian and Australasian fauna. From west to east Flores you can already see a shift in ethnic features from Malay to Melanesian and as such can be seen as a borderline between the Malay and Melanesian worlds.

We have been sailing the Nusa Tenggara seas for days now and are reaching the end of our boat trip. About 45 sailing minutes from our final destination in Flores we have one more stop at a beautiful deserted isle called Kelor, with a fine white beach and a bustling underwater life. It’s hard to say goodbye, but from the beach of this little isle we can already see our last port of call in the distance.

Finally we reach Labuan Bajo on the main island of Flores the furthest point of my voyage to the wild wild east of Indonesia. Labuan Bajo is a relaxed, but still unpolished little fishermen’s port in the west of Flores island. International tourism is moving eastwards and the port is slowly expanding its’ facilities to accommodate visitors. The only thing I really craved for however was a good shower.

Still it was hard to find a room and the place I’m staying at often loses electricity. Roads are rough and fresh water supply is irregular. Cultural activity like the bloody Caci fights are held for the benefit of the community and not led by commercial incentives. Last but not least visitors can purchase at local prices unlike most of Bali and much of Lombok where visitors can expect to be ripped off.

Live mostly continues to the pace of native drums and a Nomad is taking a few days of reflection to write.

***

The Portuguese Indos of Flores.

Centuries before the Dutch had conquered the Nusantara Islands the Portuguese had ventured into this South East Asian archipelago in search for fabled riches. From their trading post settlements the first Indo-European communities evolved. Heavily hybrid in nature holding on to Portuguese dress, language and religion, but having strong influences from the indigenous islanders they integrated with. One such Portuguese Indo society was based in the port city of Larantuka in East Flores, on the opposite side of Labuan Bajo in West Flores.

The Larantuqueiros, as these original Indos called themselves, were a sub-division of a greater seafaring Portuguese Indo community called the Topasses (the hat wearing people or people of 2 languages), some of which fled from the Portuguese settlements in the South Moluccas, when the Dutch established dominance there. The Dutch called these pre-colonial Indos the ‘Black Portuguese’ and remained in conflict and competition with them long after the ‘totok’ Portuguese had surrendered to the Dutch flag.

Being native to the land the Topasses never retreated to Portugal and remained active as seafaring traders, building their own trading post settlements from Flores and Solor to Timor in East Nusa Tenggara. Proficient in maritime navigation, as well as western warfare, the Topasses became a powerful and independent entity dominating the sandalwood trade for 200 years. Being racially and culturally mixed they also easily established strong ties with the indigenous peoples.

"These [the Topasses] have no Forts, but depend on their Alliance with the Natives: And indeed they are already so mixt, that it is hard to distinguish whether they are Portugueze or Indians. Their Language is Portugueze; and the religion they have, is Romish. They seem in Words to acknowledge the King of Portugal for their Sovereign; yet they will not accept any Officers sent by him. They speak indifferently the Malay and their own native Languages (Note: Portuguese Petjok), as well as Portugueze." Diaries of British Brigadier William Dampier, 1699.

Unlike smaller Portuguese Indo communities and families, at large the Topasses never integrated much with the Dutch colonials. Nowadays in fact the Topasses have mostly assimilated into the indigenous people of Flores, Solor and Timor. However their influence in Flores is still discernible in language, culture and religion. In Timor many of the royal Raja families still descend from the Topasses.

There are old roots here a Nomad identifies with...

Nomad & the Bugis Captain

Nomad is sailing with the Bugis Captain throughout the Nusa Tenggara islands in East Indonesia. Lombok, Gili Bola, Moyo, Satonda, Sumbawa, Gili Laba, Komodo, Kalong, Rinca, Kelor and Flores islands.

The first night when most people were already vast asleep I have my first long conversation with the old Bugis captain on the fore deck of the boat. He lights his unfiltered kretek cigarette and subtly enquires about my background and how come I speak his language a little. My answers seem satisfactory and he confides to me that he would like to be able to speak more ‘behasa ingris’. From sailing in the tourist industry he had noticed that the different people from all over the world seem to be able to speak this language. “Di kapal ini ada orang Perancis, German, Belanda, Poland, Australia, America, Ingris. Semua bisa bicara behasa ingris.”

He also seemed slightly frustrated that he needed Abdul, the English speaking guide from Lombok, to communicate with his passengers. He tells me that he only has an Indonesian-Arab dictionary and the English lessons his 3 children get in school are very poor. I tell him to just go and start talking with the passengers and listen closely to their conversations. He seemed encouraged by this reply and the next days I would see him make sometimes awkward attempts to mingle more and more with the other passengers, taking a seat among them on the main deck. Anyway he thought it was ‘bagus’ that I spoke his language. The next morning the crew (not the guide) seemed to be briefed about our nightly conversations and they all came to introduce themselves by name to the ‘gado-gado’ from Belanda . From now on I was called to the back of the boat to have extra snacks with the crew and was guaranteed extra servings of breakfast when I wanted.

The second night the captain and I spoke more about languages, culture and religion. His self declared frustration with his inability to speak English was slightly nuanced by the fact that he actually spoke more languages fluently than most of the well educated bilingual westerners on the boat. He tells me that in his ‘immigrant’ kampong on Sumbawa, beside the official Indonesian language, people already spoke 3 languages, such as the Bajau language ( Note: the Bajau are also a seafaring nomad people, not unlike the Bugis, with roots in Malaysian peninsular.). He was however unable to understand the native Sumbawa language as his roots lay in Makassar in South Sulawesi. He therefore found it particularly interesting that I had roots in North Sulawesi. He touches my arm and says “Adatnya lain, Manusia sama.” "Our ways may differ, but we are of one people."
One star spangled night the captain says he’s sorry he’s so quiet during the day, but tells me that it’s hard to muster energy during these first days of Ramadan. No drinking, no eating and no smoking. “Susah.” And it’s true once the sun goes down and the crew can indulge the volume of chatter and laughter on the bridge and in the back clearly goes up a notch. I was thinking how extra hard it must be to prepare and serve us food three times a day when you can’t eat or drink a thing yourself. But as history clearly tells us Bugis are a tough breed. He goes on to tell me this will be one of his last trips as he has now saved enough money to build a house in his kampong. It is easier than building a boat though he adds, specifying that it took his friend 4 years and 400 million rupiah to build the boat we we're on now.

At the end of the trip our guide Abdul told me that the captain wasn’t officially the captain at all. He used to be, but the young sailor in his early 20s was officially captain, as it was his father who had built and owned the boat. As the captain makes more money than the rest of the crew, in typical Indonesian fashion the closest to kin was made captain. When I say my goodbyes I tell my captain that I wish to give him 'kenang-kenangan'. He had mentioned that he liked the big multi-purpose beach towel I used and even though it had indeed been of great comfort and use during our boat trip I gladly gave it to him together with a carton of dates, the typical Ramadan food, and some packs of ‘Djarum Super’ kreteks. He happily accepted my 'kenang-kenangan' and carefully put them away immediately. “Terima kasih. Sampai bertemu lagi.” Thank you. Until we meet again.

InshaAllah...

Nomad in Nusa Tenggara

A Nomad is cruising through Nusa Tenggara, East Indonesia.

Nusa Tenggara, also known as the Lesser Sunda Islands, is a chain of Indonesia’s most eastern islands. It lies on the collision point of two tectonic plates and comprises some of the most bio diverse, geologically complex and volcanically active regions in the world. Apart from its first island Lombok it is still largely off the beaten track of tourism.

On a slow cargo boat sailing through the Nusa Tenggara islands and operated by a Bugis crew, a Nomad suddenly becomes a Nomad among Nomads. On Lombok I have embarked for a weeks’ sea voyage to the island of Flores, the transitional area between the Malay and Melanesian worlds. The passengers consist of European backpackers in their early and mid thirties, an adventurous elderly Australian couple and our Sasak guide from Lombok.

The captain and crew are of the infamous Bugis people. The Bugis are a nomadic seafaring tribe with exceptional maritime navigational skills. Once they ruled the waves of the Indonesian seas and were feared as pirates. The English word ‘Boogie man’ in fact is believed to be based on these legendary pirates. Currently they have settled around the coasts of the Indonesian islands with strongholds in South Celebes. This crew lives in a village on the island of Sumbawa. Normally they ship coconut cargo to Surabaya on Java for the ‘Minyak kelapa’ industry, but in the tourist season they found the more lucrative business of transporting visitors to the eastern islands. This time I am part of the cargo.

Live on the small Bugis cargo boat is rugged and felt surreal after being on a cruise ship in the Pacific, where you are expected to disinfect your hands at every turn. Here we eat and sleep on deck. Do our duties in the tiny toilet, ‘kamar kecil’, in the back of the boat, next to the tiny kitchen. The guide and 4 men crew sleep behind the bridge and are both the sailors and cooks. Live chicken and foodstuffs are stored in the cargo space next to our luggage. You take a bath by jumping into the sea and rinse with fresh water back onboard. The boat is propelled by a large and very noisy motor. Most nights we keep sailing and many wrap a towel around their head to kill the engine noise.

The formidable view and incredible scenery from the

boat is breathtaking and explain why the Indonesian archipelago is called the emerald necklace. Large volcanic

islands and small uninhabited bounty islands pass before our eyes as we cut through deep blue waterways. Along the main island of Sumbawa we visit small specs of (is)land with white beaches and super snorkeling spots, hike inland to bath in waterfalls and swim in a sacred salt water lake.

The well travelled passengers include 3 adventurous French guys, French freshly weds from Marseille, a Canadian girl and her Sasak boyfriend from Lombok, a Polish couple from the UK , 2 schoolteachers from the UK, an elderly couple of seasoned travellers from Australia, and a young German couple. A tough bunch not prone to sea sickness and complaints. The first night I sleep on the main deck among some of the crew and Peggy, the American lady from Australia that has seen much of the world already and travelled the African continent for 11 months last year.

The second day on the Sumbawa high seas the waters are rough with strong winds, currents and high waves. Sitting on the fore deck becomes impossible and sea legs become necessary to move around the boat. Later that night the captain suggests that this time I might want to sleep on top of the bridge with the other passengers as it could get wet on deck. The next day Peggy tells me that in the middle of the night the main deck was indeed flooded by rain being blown into the boat by strong winds, creating an onboard swimming pool. She moved to the back of the boat, while the Bugis crew apparently kept on sleeping.

The last few days of our boat trip we enter the region of Flores and visit the legendary Komodo Dragon island, an official world heritage site. That night we anchor close to Kalong island and see the superb sight of swarms of large bats flying into the sunset. On the less regulated Rinca island we hike inland and suddenly are startled by wild movement just a few metres into the bush. An adult deer was running for its’ life chased by Dragons. One poisonous bite of a dragon is enough to kill a wild bull and while they usually move in slow motion, a dragon can actually reach a speed of 14 kilometres per hour.
Nomad & the Dragons
Dragons are solitary creatures that hunt alone, but up to 4 big dragons had set their mind on the same prey. First the ranger in the front of our group became very excited, stammering "Wow, wow!". Than found his composure and told us this was an unique example of raw nature in action. Once the rangers realised there were about 2 more hungry dragons involved the people in front got instructions from the first ranger to move back, while at the same time the ranger in the back was urging the people behind us to run along. It appeared that one of the dragons behind us didnt take too kindly to photographing Frenchmen and redirected his hunt towards them. Sniffing out his potential prey with his tongue and aggressively approaching the group. As there was still one dragon on the right and one in front we carefully moved to the left and into a dry riverbank and waited quietly till the path in front of us was clear again. The only thing I could think about was how the hell to outrun a hunting dragon that can reach a speed of 14 kilometres per hour...

A nomad thinks that traveling the wild wild east of Indonesia sure is exciting...

Nomad in Lombok

A Nomad has arrived in the port city of Lembar in Lombok after a mere 6 hour sailing with the ferry from Padang Bai in East Bali. We drive our car trough busy midnight Mataram, the capital of Lombok, to find a place to spend the night in Senggigi. The island of Lombok is competing with its' neighbor Bali to become one of Indonesia's prime tourist destinations and Senggigi is its' most developed tourist area.

A Nomad remembers that 4 years ago much of the island was still untouched by the growing tourist industry. But nowadays it seems that travelers have found there way here and the Lombok people are quickly finding a place for them. Some of the bays and beaches around Senggigi had very few accommodations, while now some bays are being covered with beach side hotels and restaurants. Remarkably many of the new places in the area are owned and operated by westerners.

I soon found out that at this very moment real estate sales are booming here and many Europeans and Australians, including a great number of Dutch, are buying property here. As Oom Roos, a retired Moluccan Dutchman said: "Why not buy land here? For the same amount of money you can buy a car back in the Netherlands." It seems that Indonesia is loosening its strict regulations around land purchase by foreigners and buying a home in a place like Lombok seems a solid investment.

As Jack, also a Moluccan Dutchman who moved to Bali years ago and is running a real estate agency, confirmed the new post 'orde-baru' (Suharto) era has opened the way for significant and strong development of both the Indonesia's democracy and economy. There's still a long way to go he hastened to add. But it's undeniable that the country has been in an upward spiral for at least the past 4 years. Lombok is clearly showing the pace of development has definitely increased.

When I was here 4 years back the Lombok people were still slightly ambiguous and awkward towards tourism (Except for the western Gili islands who were already in their post-lonely planet fame period.) However the west with it's large Balinese population is in the obvious lead with building up the industry. And now the south is expecting its first international airport this year, also here the people are preparing for the anticipated tourist boom. It's interesting to see how these developments will benefit the people and how firmly they will be able to hold on to their traditions.

To find more unexplored destinations one needs to move more east of the archipelago. Exactly what a Nomad planned to do. Soon I would be boarding a slow boat to the eastern islands.

***

Nomad & Tuhan Menir Benni

It was probably our very first night in Senggigi that we met Benni a young street hustler from a neighbouring village. One of the many street hustlers that give Senggigi that much desired Bali clone feel. We were ordering food at a restaurant slash art shop that had authentic Lombok dishes on the menu. Seeing the local patrons at some tables in the back, it seemed a logical choice to get a taste of spicy Lombok cuisine. Senggigi main street nowadays is a collection of up scaled eateries and the old street hawkers that used to be lined up here (only a few years back) have all been relocated to far off back streets by misguided tourism managers.

Benni likes to chat and his initial approach is friendly and laid back and he quickly backs off when our food is served. TBC tobecontinued

Nomad in Bali

The Nomads have arrived in the motherland. Around midnight we left Den Pasar Airport without having arranged any accommodation. Not a problem for seasoned travelers, and isn't this our home away from home anyway? Well traveling to Lovina in the North of Bali at this time of day did prove to be a challenge and even getting a place around Den Pasar in peak season isn't all that easy. We chartered a cabbie to take us to some places nearby and after asking for a "kamar kosong" at some fully booked hotels, we finally found a spot in Kuta.

The day after we took the 'Perama' shuttle bus to Lovina and hooked up with my sister and family. After some exiting trips to diving sites and waterfalls we decided to move on to Ubud, the cultural centre of Bali. There we went to the Monkey Forest Temple where some unique religious ceremonies were held (the last of its kind was 17 years ago). Seeking silver handicraft in Celuk and woodcarving in the regional wholesale handicraft market in Sukawati filled our days until we returned south and found a hotel in Sanur.

Nomad & Jack
Here we met with Jack de Fretes, the oldest brother of a big Moluccan musical family that resides in the Netherlands. Although I have often jammed or played with his younger brothers and sister, Jack is probably the first De Fretes I made music with. That was over 20 years ago when I was just a young kid, and Jack actually can't recall the occasion. But I remember our rehearsals vividly as it was a gruesome experience to play with someone that has perfect hearing and cut rehearsals after less than 60 seconds because we were out of tune. "Really we were out of tune?"

Jack had a good job as a facility manager in the Netherlands, but 6 years ago already he decided to venture back to the motherland in an attempt to set up a business in Jakarta. After some years living in Jakarta the business venture became unprofitable. They returned to the Netherlands. But only for a short while. That they would return to Indonesia was almost without question. Now they live and work in Bali. He and his wife work as real estate agents and their daugther Damaris has a cool job in one of the big clubs in Kuta. Junior remained in the Netherlands to complete his study at the music conservatory. But visiting his family in Bali he tells me he also wonders why he didn't go with them.

One thing is clear beyond any doubt, none of them have the slightest urge
to go back to the Netherlands. "There is nothing there that can top our lives here", Jack says confidently. "But what about..." and I start listing the well known objections to the state of Indonesia. Jack has heard them all before and his replies are fluent. His arguments however are the same ones Indonesians have always used to defend their predicaments. It is my first week in Indonesia and I'm still doubtful, even though he has experienced life here first hand for the past 3 years and he has seen with his own eyes that much is rapidly changing.

"Of course there is plenty opportunity for improvement", he finally admits.
But he also explains that since the downfall of the so called 'New Order' and
the recent forward strides into the democratisation and de-centralisation
process, shown in enhanced regional authority and autonomy, the local
economies are truly growing. He lists some accomplishments ranging from academic to technical and his arguments are becoming persuasive and compelling. It seems that Indonesia is indeed finally entering a new phase of in(ter)dependence and modernity.

In a few months his youngest brother Sammy, a kick ass drummer, will marry on Bali. All preparations are well under way. And who knows perhaps Sam will also be seduced to a life of sun and surf on the beaches of Bali.

One more day on Bali and my newly wed wife, soulmate and Nomadic partner left for Singapore to return to Amsterdam via London. Our nomadic travels together have come to an end, but our live together somehow started. Where our lives will end up being lived is surely still an open question, subject to nomadic deliberation.