Maluku

Right smack in the middle of Tobin’s visit here in Indonesia, I was sent to the province of Maluku for work. On the one hand, I was excited to see more of Indonesia and to learn more about MDPI’s work; on the other hand, I felt guilty, frustrated and sad to be spending the time away from Tob … but I didn’t have much of a choice, so off I went.

The Maluku Islands (also known as the Moluccas, or Spice Islands) are famous for their production of nutmeg and cloves. In fact, there’s a popular tidbit that one of the islands, Pulau Run, was traded for Manhattan. By gaining control of Pulau Run, the Dutch obtained a monopoly on the world’s supply of nutmeg (and the British just got a swampy island…). Today, the islands still produce spices, but are also hubs of fisheries, agriculture, and mining.

On the Monday morning after our weekend at Ijen, I flew from Denpasar to Makassar (Sulawesi), then from Makassar to Ambon, the capital of Maluku. I probably should have been sleeping but I spent the majority of the flights with my forehead glued to the window, taking in the incredible greens and blues of this country.

Ambon itself is spread out across two sides of an inlet, with the airport on the opposite side of the city centre. So the 40-minute drive from the airport into town provided a great opportunity to take in the area – the green hills, the bustling streets, the precarious buildings. Bonus: the driver was playing Avril Lavigne and he hummed and whistled along to all of her songs.

Views over Ambon city

Ambon is busy but not very touristy (or at least, I didn’t get the chance to do or see anything touristy – I know there are a few sites to see). I spent most of my time working while I was there – MDPI was hosting a DMC meeting. All of the key stakeholders in our work (government, fishermen, suppliers, processors, NGOs, academics, etc.) come together as a Data Management Committee – it’s a form of co-management where they’re able to discuss fisheries issues and progress in their area. We have six different DMCs across Eastern Indonesia, and the eventual goal is that these committees should be able to continue without MDPI’s support.

Angkot - local transportation

Nasi kuning - my favourite meal in Indonesia thus far

After two days of meetings conducted completely in the Indonesian language (I didn’t contribute much more than my name) I was supposed to travel from Ambon to Buru Island, where I’d visit a few of our field sites. This, however, proved to be quite a complicated journey.

Getting to Buru involves taking an 8-hour ferry overnight, and the ferries in Indonesia are notoriously overcrowded, neglected, and well below safety standards... definitely a recipe for adventure! I was extra hesitant since I’d be travelling alone and I speak very limited Bahasa Indonesia. My colleagues were very reassuring though and helped me every step of the way.

There are three classes for travelling on the ferry: economy, business, and VIP. Economy means sleeping on the floor wherever you can find a space; business means getting a bunk in an overcrowded, hot room; VIP means getting a bunk in a room made slightly less hot by an air conditioning unit. In all instances, you’re wedged in with the other travellers, subject to the snores, sneezes, and various other pleasantries of mass sleepovers. As possibly the world’s lightest sleeper, this is a bit of a nightmare.

MDPI has a little trick though – if you know the ferry staff, you can book a spot in a much smaller, much better air-conditioned, much less crowded room (and of course pay a premium for this luxury). You can only book the day of the sailing though, so there’s always a bit of anxiety about making sure this happens early in the morning. Luckily my coworkers sorted this all out for me.

We arrived at the ferry terminal about an hour before departure. It was hectic. There were cars everywhere, motorbikes everywhere, hordes of people. It turns out there was a festival in Buru the next day to celebrate the anniversary of the island, so everybody and their grandma was headed there.

The ferry dock.

Every nook and cranny of the ferry seemed to be filled with people camped out for the night’s voyage. Countless eyes followed me as I walked onto the ferry, escorted by two MDPI staff, Wildan and Nilam, who were going to help me get settled and send me on my way. I was very, very clearly the only foreigner on the boat. Luckily I had my safe little private nook, tucked in the side of the ferry and protected by an extremely heavy metal door. Nilam told me not to leave the room until we’d arrived in Buru. What if I have to pee, I wondered?

My bunk for the night... or so I thought!

A ferry staff member popped his head into the room and spoke quickly to Nilam and Wildan. Nilam’s face betrayed her anxiety, and I was informed that someone very important, a head of district, had called to book a room and we’d lost my space. My heart sank into my stomach as I contemplated spending the eight-hour ferry ride wedged in with the hundreds of other passengers.

I probably sound like a bit of a princess here, and I should clarify that I don’t mind getting dirty or being uncomfortable. In fact I actively choose to sleep in all sorts of weird places most weekends. But this was becoming a question of safety, not comfort.

We were told that there was an alternative place to sleep so we descended into the bowels of the vessel via a small metal ladder to an area where the crew sleeps on the floor. It was certainly less crowded, but it was incredibly hot and loud and I just wasn’t convinced I’d sleep at all. So in the end, we decided to wait another day for me to take the ferry. I was relieved – I was coming down with a cold and knew a good night’s sleep would feel fantastic. Back at the hotel, I was asleep in no time.

After spending the day working from MDPI’s office in Ambon, we went through the whole rigmarole the next evening on a much emptier ferry. I got my own bunk in an eight-person room infested with cockroaches. But our beds had curtains, so that was a plus. I didn’t sleep much – it was quite bright and people kept coming in and out of the room – but it was certainly bearable.

Nestled in my little bunk for the night.

The ferry arrived at the port in Namlea on the eastern side of Buru at about 4:30 in the morning. Bleary-eyed, I collected my things and walked off of the boat and was greeted by Huda, the supervisor for MDPI’s field sites on Buru. He took me to a small homestay nearby where I passed out on the floor until about 8:30am.

Compared to the ferry, this was glorious.

For the next two days, Huda showed me around Buru – we visited several of our field sites and I met various MDPI staff that collect daily fisheries data and work on Fair Trade projects. It was an amazing couple of days filled with completely authentic experiences – I was reminded of how lucky I am to be here and I felt incredibly grateful that I have this opportunity. I was also constantly asked for photos with the locals … I don’t think foreigners pass through very often!

A picturesque dock, where there was quickly a lineup to take photos with the blonde girl.

Fishing boats at rest.

Asis collecting tuna data

It was quite a short trip (made shorter by the ferry mishap) and I’m looking forward to the next opportunity I’ll have to go to Buru. In the spring, turtles nest on the beach right out front of the MDPI office – fingers crossed I can check that out!

Staying hydrated on the job with Huda

The return trip to Ambon was just as complicated as the journey to Buru. Many of the people who’d travelled to Buru for the festival were now heading back to Ambon, so the ferry was busy again. Huda had booked a space for me in the smaller room, but once again the same head of district booked the room just hours before the ferry was supposed to depart and I lost my spot. Luckily Huda was able to pull a bunch of strings and managed to get me a space in the "VIP" room, still a room with forty people but at least with AC.

VIP bunks that quickly filled up

I barely slept that night – I don’t think the air con was doing much, because I was dripping sweat and couldn’t get comfortable. There were babies crying, cell phones ringing, people talking on their cell phones, more babies crying... coughing, snoring, sneezing, people going in and out of the room. I kept my earplugs in and was content to spend the night reading until, out of the corner of my eye, I caught the quick movement of something small and dark; I thought it crossed the bathroom door a few metres beyond where our mats ended, but I quickly realized I was wrong as a massive cockroach scuttled over my neighbour's feet and began inching its way up her legs, spending an uncomfortable length of time investigating the creases of her shorts. Unsure whether or not to wake her, I eventually chose what seemed like an appropriate time (in terms of the cockroach’s location on her body) to try to deter it. I merely tapped one of its antennae and it went zipping off at lightening speed towards its next hunting ground.

Sweaty and sleepy (and too tall for these bunks)

It was at that point that I spotted an equally large cockroach crossing the floor. I was already so hot and tired and uncomfortable at this point that I wasn’t capable of being any more grossed out. Interestingly, images came to mind of the adorable animated cockroach in Wall-E, which somehow made it slightly more bearable knowing the bugs could be anywhere. Rather than feign sleep, I opted to continue reading, the most effective way of being immediately transported elsewhere.

The ferry docked early, just before 4:00am. I caught a taxi to the airport, where I hung out until my flight at 8:00am. By the afternoon, I was back in Bali, gleefully reunited with Tobin and napping in a real bed.

Kawah Ijen

Back on the first weekend of October, I knocked another volcano off of my Indonesian Bucket List. Kawa Ijen is located on the eastern end of Java and is famous for its blue flames, billowing sulphur plumes, and the incredibly hardworking miners that harvest the sulphur from the depths of the volcano’s crater.

Ijen is relatively close to Bali - only about 200km from Sanur - making it a reasonable destination for the weekend. Of course, in reality, travel throughout Indonesia is never straightforward. We took a 45-minute cab drive from my house in Sanur (update: I moved into a new place!) to the bus station in Ubung, which is within the city of Denpasar.

Not entirely relevant to this blog post, but here's my new place!

Upon reaching the bus station, we were immediately harassed by about ten people asking us where we were headed. We’d read ahead and knew that there were two options to get to Gilimanuk (at the northwestern end of Bali) – a small, cheap, local bus for about $5 (nicknamed a chicken bus), or a larger coach bus with A/C for about $12. After ignoring the hawkers and heading for a ticket booth, we were told to inquire about tickets at the buses themselves.

Lil local bus - yay or nay?

Once we’d seen the $5 local bus, we were pretty sure we didn’t want to spend 4 or 5 hours in its hot, cramped interior, especially since we knew we wouldn’t be getting a decent sleep that night. We figured we could relax a bit more on the fancy bus; but they wanted to charge us about $17 each. My bargaining instinct kicked in and I tried to get them down to the price we’d read online, but they were barely budging and I couldn’t get them lower than $15. Cue a 20-minute standoff where Tobin and I debated the merits of each bus and I became increasingly frustrated before we finally paid $14 each to take the fancy cold bus.

It was a four-hour ride that I wish I could say was uneventful, but in reality we hit a motorbiker before we’d even made it out of Denpasar. The person appeared to be okay, and as usual more concerned about the condition of their motorbike than themselves. A representative of the bus company hopped off of the bus to stay behind and sort out the situation, and we continued on our way.

Ferries travelling between Bali and Java.

We reached Gilimanuk at dusk and took a short ferry ride across the bubbling straight between Bali and Java. On the other side, we received curt instructions to get off of the bus, which was confusing because we’d been informed would take us all the way to Banyuwangi. Clearly this was not the case. Instead, we were left to our own devices, aka a local taxi driver pestered us until we relented and paid him to take us into town.

This place was pretty weird.

In Banyuwangi, we met up with Richard, Tara, and two of Richard’s colleagues at possibly the world’s most bizarre accommodation. The enclosed “courtyard,” painted a garish green, featured an indoor fishpond, two pet turtles, a fake rock wall with giant swans, and a set of fake log stools. I’ve definitely never seen anything like it, but it was still a great place to catch up with the recent newlyweds!

After a quick dinner, we enjoyed a brief three-hour rest before our early volcano start. We hopped into a couple of vehicles organized by our trip guide. Tobin and I were in a car with a stranger who’d been added to our group, a fellow who did not speak a word to any of us for the entire excursion. We were treated to a joyful hour and a half of pop hits from about five years ago, blasted as loud as possible, as our driver tried to stay awake. We obviously did not sleep either.

Just after 2am we made it to the base of Kawah Ijen and joined the hordes of people making the trek up in the dark. Our crew was intent on making a speedy ascent, and about an hour or so later we crested the rim of the volcano. From there we followed a rocky, uneven path down into the crater. We caught our first glances of the sulphur miners, who were already hauling 80kg buckets of sulphur chunks up out of the crater. Tobin tried to snap a photo of one and the clearly frustrated miner immediately asked for money. Tobin, who has had difficulty withdrawing cash here, was able to offer him a measly 2000 rupiah, or about 20 cents. The miner was unimpressed, to say the least.

A trail of flashlights descending into the crater, with sulphur plumes on the right.

A little further down we reached the billowing sulphur vents and gazed at the blue flames licking up from the rocks. We’d all put on our gas masks ages ago when our eyes had started stinging and our breathing became choked by the fumes – but the miners entered the thickest parts of the plumes without any protection, coming out coughing and hacking with each new chunk of sulphur.

Tourists gather around the blue flames and sulphur vents.

It was humbling to say the least. To feel in this complete place of privilege, taking photos of people doing an incredibly dangerous job in order to make about $12 a day. The same price I’d tried so hard to bargain for our bus fare just half a day earlier. It just sat in the pit of our stomachs, this guilt for being tourists. I can only hope that I’m able to contribute something positive by being in this country, by working with communities and doing some small part to help ensure that their fisheries are sustainable and that ocean resources are well managed. But maybe I’m only telling myself that so I feel a little less helpless. I’m still sitting with this.

Endless streams of visitors taking in the grandeur of Kawah Ijen.

Posing with our guide (between Tobin and I), who is a former sulphur miner.

Sunrise was beautiful; the hike down was misty and lovely. Our guilt eased – slightly – once we were out of the crater. We stopped at a stunning waterfall that was only 200m away from the road on the drive back, which we (amazingly) had to ourselves. Tobin and I even ventured a bit further upstream through the jungle to reach another waterfall, tall and just gushing with water.

Feeling refreshed, we hopped back in the cars and returned to the turtle house for breakfast. Our guide told us that there was a festival that day, and since we all had a couple of hours before we had to start heading back to our respective cities, we went into town to check it out. It turns out the festival was quite big and it centred around a performance of 1000 dancers on the beach. There were a ton of people there but we were the only foreigners – we stuck out like sore thumbs and were constantly being asked to take photos with locals. We hung around for a couple of hours but unfortunately had to leave before the actual spectacle began.

Who's more interesting - the tall foreigners or local dancers?

Just a few of the thousand dancers before their performance.

Our return trip to Bali was just as interesting as the journey over – first, we took a local bus/taxi to the ferry terminal; bought tickets for the ferry; then were accosted by students learning English who asked us questions from their “Hunting Tourists” questionnaire including: what we liked the most about Indonesia, how long we are staying, what we do for work, etc. Next we enjoyed the pleasant ferry ride to Bali; then spent an hour trying to get a nice bus to Denpasar which proved fruitless as we watched bus after bus pass us by (either full, or for a specific tour company, or no tourists allowed). All we wanted to do was sleep, and we knew there was no hope of that on the local chicken bus, so in the end we splurged on a car ride that took us straight to my place. It was a long ride through torrential rain, but we slept almost the entire way and emerged groggy eyed at about 11:30pm.

Students on a mission to practice their English by "Hunting Tourists"

I made a friend while we waited for a ride!

Sleep felt absolutely glorious, but it was interrupted all too early the next morning when I had to wake up for my 8am flight to Ambon, Maluku… stories of those adventures in my next post!

Lombok

The morning after Tara and Richard’s wedding, only slightly hungover, Tobin and I flew to Bali. I was really excited about having him join me on the island, but we arrived late in the evening and I had to go straight to work the next morning, so unfortunately he was left to his own devices to get settled. Not surprisingly, it was a tough transition to 32-degree heat for a man who’s made for the mountains. Add in unreliable wifi and a lack of air conditioning, and we’ll just say it was an interesting couple of days.

Meanwhile, at work, I was gently being urged to start visiting our field sites. Part of the reason I was excited to work for MDPI was the chance to visit remote parts of Indonesia where we collect fisheries data. But it seemed a bit logistically challenging to ensure I’d have quality time with Tob while travelling to these field sites. I managed to strike somewhat of a balance on my first site visit by flying there two days early with Tobin so we could spend some time exploring the island together.

Lombok is the largest island immediately east of Bali, and some people describe it as what Bali was like twenty years ago. No traffic jams, no insane party strips… a bit more mellow, a lot greener. The population is around 3 million while Bali’s is over 4 million (to be honest I thought there’d be a bigger difference, but maybe it’s because of the tourist influx in Bali?). Lombok just doesn’t feel as “Westernized” as Bali does. It’s kind of a relief.

Actually getting to Lombok was a bit of a debacle, though. My flight had been booked through work, but we had to sort out Tobin’s on our own; and unfortunately it’s a bit tricky to book tickets online in Indonesia with a Canadian credit card. I won’t go into details, but it took a couple of late night and early morning motorbike rides to convenience stores and travel agents in order to get the ticket. By the time it was sorted, the 3pm flight I was on was full, so Tobin had to book a later flight.

We were so flustered by the ticket fiasco that we totally miscalculated what time we had to be at the airport, forgetting that my flight was an hour and a half earlier than Tobin’s. “Rushing” through Bali traffic in a taxi, we arrived at the airport a mere 25 minutes before my flight – but luckily I made it onboard.

Wayyy too much time was spent here.

My flight took off right on time and I landed in Lombok 30 minutes later. I checked my phone and learned that Tobin’s flight was delayed 3 hours. Womp womp. We waited out the delay in our respective airports until we were reunited in Lombok at about 8:30pm.

We chose to save a few dollars and take a local bus from the airport to Senggigi, about two hours away on the west coast. We’d found a great last-minute deal on a fancy (to our standards) hotel online and were thrilled just to crash when we arrived.

YAS PLZ

The next morning, we rented a motorbike and drove along the north side of the island. It was a stunning drive with incredible ocean views and winding, hilly roads. We both loved the vibe of the island – as I mentioned earlier, it is much more relaxed and less developed than Bali. We kept stopping to take it all in – black beaches, tiny villages, green rice fields, buckets of dried fish… there were endless visual treats!

Lombok jungle.

After a couple of hours, we reached our destination – a trail to a couple of gorgeous waterfalls: Sendang Gile and Tiu Kelep. They were both stunning – fresh cold water tumbling down from the impossibly green jungle – but also pretty busy (Tiu Kelep especially) so we didn’t linger long. We raced back along the northern road, hoping to make it back to the west coast for sunset – which we did! We managed to find a restaurant on the beach and enjoyed a cold beer while watching the sun dip down next to the silhouette of Mt Agung on Bali (yes – the one that might erupt any day now).

Sendang Gile waterfall.

Sunset from Western Lombok, gazing at Mt Agung.

On Monday morning we went for a quick dip at Senggigi beach. The water was perfectly turquoise, the sand already too hot for our feet at 9am. We wondered why, exactly, I have a real job and we couldn’t just go surfing and exploring and travelling for as long as we felt like… sigh.

Around noon we had to part ways – I was heading east to MDPI’s field office, and Tobin was hopping on a ferry to check out the famous Gili islands. I arrived in Labuhan in east Lombok in the evening and met our field staff. I spent the next day learning about MDPI’s site operations and visiting ports and fish processing facilities. Lombok is our oldest and most reliable site, and is also used as the training ground for new field staff members. It was fun to meet the staff and see some of our data collection and community work in action.

On Wednesday morning Tobin and I reunited at the Lombok airport – Tobin having enjoyed a couple of days snorkeling (and getting some work done) in Gili Air. Our flight was only slightly delayed flight back to Bali, and soon enough we were back in the busy fray of this crazy place.

Views of the southern coastline of Lombok from the plane.

Macau, Hong Kong, and a Wedding!

Two weeks ago I travelled to Macau (a Special Administrative Region of the People’s Republic of China) to attend the wedding of one of Tobin’s close friends from high school, Richard. Richard (who is Canadian) met his future wife Tara (who is Australian) in Macau while they were both there for work; ten years later, after living all over the world (they’re currently based in Jakarta), they chose Macau as an ideal wedding location for their globally distributed friends and family.

Tobin and I flew to Macau a few days before the wedding in order to spend some time exploring the area (Tobin flew in from Vancouver and I flew in from Bali). Macau is just south of Hong Kong and has been dubbed “the Vegas of Asia.” It is a somewhat bizarre place where the remnants of Macanese history (including Portugese colonialism) are being obscured by massive casino and hotel developments. I truly mean massive – Macau is home to one of the world’s largest buildings, the Venetian.

Just a few of the many gigantic hotels / casinos in Macau.

Views of old Macau from the Monte Fort.

The area used to be several islands, but land reclamation (which has become extensive in recent years) has connected them. What was once the Macau Peninsula and two islands (Taipa and Coloane) is now a giant fake land mass covered in extravagant displays of luxury. It is… shocking to say the least.

 

Progression of landfill in the Macau area from the early 1900s to 2016.

We spent a couple of days checking out the old parts of area (Taipa village and the Historic Centre of Macau) – which were beautiful and full of tourists and therefore overwhelming and we only made things harder on ourselves by using public transit to get around. Luckily we had Portuguese egg tarts to refuel us whenever we needed them. Possibly the most “Macau” thing we did was to ride Studio City’s gaudy figure-8 ferris wheel (we received free passes after seeing the equally over-the-top Water Dance show the night before). It was a slow ride with extensive views of – wait for it – more hotels being built.

Tobin entering the fray and eyeing up some local delicacies.

Stunning views of development from the Golden Reel.

But our favourite sightseeing adventure by far was a visit to the Macao Giant Panda Pavilion, where $1 bought us an hour of watching two lil pandas run around and harass their giant panda momma. I think I should have felt more depressed about seeing them in an enclosure (the red panda exhibit was super depressing I won’t lie), but watching those lil panda butts tumbling around and munchin bamboo and climbing all over stuff was just one of the most joyous things I’ve ever been able to watch. And Tobin, a true panda lover since childhood (and the one who searched for “where to pet pandas in Macau”) was overjoyed, even though we were separated from the panda famjam by panes of glass. 

 

We set aside an entire day to explore Hong Kong, which is just an hour away by ferry. I won’t lie, by the time we saw Hong Kong, I was pretty much citied out… so it was an overwhelming and exhausting experience to say the least. We managed to squeeze a lot into one day – checking out temples, riding the world’s longest escalator system, walking through the zoological and botanical gardens, standing in line to ride the funicular up Mount Victoria only to be told 30 minutes later that it was out of service… add in 32 degree heat and 94% humidity, and you can imagine how sweaty and exhausted we were.

We rode the Star Ferry across from Hong Kong to Kowloon, and meandered through the Ladies Market and Temple Street Night Market (which weren’t particularly inspiring but DID result in us buying onesies thanks to the extreme persistence of one saleslady). On the recommendation of one of Tobin’s coworkers, we also checked out the Goldfish Market, where ornamental fish are sold in plastic bags. We kept wondering whether those fish could actually survive the day / night… and I kept thinking about all of the seahorses that end up in Hong Kong (we didn’t see any, but I kept thinking about them all anyway). Our last tourist stop was taking in the view of Hong Kong at night.

Around 9pm, absolutely exhausted (I definitely had some city meltdowns) we went to catch the ferry back to Macau and were shocked to see thousands of people lining the hallways of the ferry terminal awaiting their departures. We couldn’t believe it – our ferry ride in the morning had been practically empty, and we hadn’t bothered to buy return tickets, not knowing when we’d want to leave HK. When we attempted to buy tickets, we were told the next sailing we could take to Macau was leaving at 4:15am.

4:15am!!!!! We had a wedding to go to the next day!!

Frantically, we asked if there was any way we could get back to Macau at a reasonable hour. We were told would cost us about $200 each to sail first class, leaving at 11:30pm. Not grrreat… I glanced at a helijet booth and asked Tobin what he thought it might cost.

Treats on the ferry back to Macau.

“Too much,” he quickly replied.

Unsure of what to do, we asked if there were any other options. Our ticket attendant shrugged and said we could try another company. We weren’t feeling very hopeful but we ran across the terminal (past what seemed like a zillion people with a zillion pieces of luggage) to the other ferry operator. The ticket attendant cheerfully informed us that we could catch the next sailing if we took first class, which would only cost about $40 with a bonus 20% off for using a Mastercard. HALLELUJAH! We booked the tickets, cleared customs, enjoyed a smooth sailing with bonus treats, and were in bed in Macau at a reasonable hour.

The next day was lovely – sunny and hot. The celebration was held in Coloane, at a beautiful Portuguese hotel next to the ocean and lush forests. Richard and Tara’s wedding was beautiful and emotional (and so, so, so, sweaty). We had a fantastic time, and will hopefully be meeting up with them for a few adventures throughout Indonesia this year!

Till next time,
A.

Celebrating Richard and Tara in style.