I’ve done it! I went out as far as the drop down and snorkelled over the coral garden. I was certainly the best coral I’ve seen, all the branches, fans and strange shapes that you’ve come to associate with coral from so many TV programmes going right back to Hans and Lottie Hass and Jacque Cousteau; in those days it must have been so exciting to see the real thing after watching it in black and white. Now, thanks to David Attenborough, reality is often slightly disappointing and it is the personal experience rather than the object to be experienced that matters. In my case because I am still a poor swimmer and lack confidence in the water, especially water packed with nibbling, biting and stinging creatures, to snorkel a coral reef on my own becomes a big adventure. I almost wrote awfully big adventure, but I don’t want it to go that far! The adventure is made more so by the fact I have to put in soft contact lenses that make me farsighted but also very short sighted too. They take a bit of getting used to and getting them in is sometimes a bloodshot struggle, but I cannot take any other kind and without them snorkelling would be almost impossible. What did I see? The extraordinary coral I mentioned earlier, many brightly coloured and strange shaped fish, -no big groups or shoals, except for a small shoal of brilliant little blue fishes - and lots of enormous starfish and sea anemones. I think I was stung by one of them. At one point I found that I was surrounded by a forest of pink anemone and had to do a quick turn around. I came away with some sore red marks on my leg, but after an hour or so back on land they have faded and are almost gone. I would have like to stay longer in the water but sun is bright and strong today and it would have been easy to get burned, despite all the sun cream. Though Tasikoki was very hot for most of the time we worked in the shade of the forest and avoided direct sunlight. When I arrived there were only two other people here at the Sea Garden but another couple arrived this morning. It is a quiet place and that suits me, as I would not want to be surrounded by expert divers and snorkelers talking about places that would make my reef nothing more interesting than your back doorstep. I still have not fully adjusted from leaving Tasikoki; three months of intense activity, communal living and strict routine has left me uneasy when I’m just lazing around. Every time I see a clump of fresh looking leaves and grass I want to get hold of a sack and start filling it. Sonia who runs Sea Garden is very pleasant and the food is simple and good. Lots of grilled fish as you might expect on an island where most things have to be shipped in from the mainland. I was telling Sonia about the animals at Tasikoki and when I mentioned babirusa the first thing she said was, ‘Umm delicious!’ Poor doomed babirusa. This is last day on the island and this morning I went snorkelling for the last time. Once you get out to the point where the ground drops away the underwater life is amazing, but to get to the drop off you have to find your way through a maze of coral in the low water at the edge. I found that quite difficult, as I did not want to touch or damage the coral, and certainly not touch the huge clumps of anemone again. I still could not avoid getting stung but like yesterday it is only a rash and slight soreness that vanishes in a couple of hours. If I visit here again I think I would rather snorkel from off a boat where I would not have to worry about finding my way back to shore and could take a break a break from the sun now and again. I find myself envying the divers who must see so much more than snorkelers. There is still no internet connection, I managed about ten minutes from the café two days ago but that was all, so I’m writing this on my laptop and will load it at the airport. Yesterday there was a tremendous tropical storm and I passed the afternoon lying in my hammock on the veranda listening to the steady thunder or rain on the tin roof broken only by the occasional clap of real thunder that shook the beach hut. I have plenty of Indonesian books to read and films to watch on the laptop. I’ve bought a couple of small books of Sulawesi folk stories and am thinking of translating and adapting a few of them. They are children’s books so the language is simple but like folk stories in English there are the odd unusual phrases, archaisms and surreal situations so sometimes I still have to turn to the dictionary. I’ve finished the folk tales but still have the travel book that I was given in Tangkoko to get into. I have only read the first couple of chapters so far. It’s interesting reading an Indonesian travel guide written by an Indonesian. There is a subtle difference in the viewpoint; some things that a European would pick up on are just mentioned in passing and other details are mentioned that a foreign writer would probably ignore. There is so much to remember that it seems as though I have been in Sulawesi far longer than three months and yet suddenly this is my last day. As well as the photographs and memories I’m bringing back much to think about, the problems and ethics of animal rescue and conservation in a young and growing country like Indonesia, the mysteries and puzzles still to be found in the history of Minahasa culture, the enigmatic waruga and also all the possibilities for the future that seem to be opening up. There is a novel too hiding somewhere in the green tangle of these three months. I think Paul Sochaczewski will have covered some of this ground in his novel Redheads about rainforest politics, environmentalism and the clash of cultures, but my small patch would be sadder and darker, more Maughamish. Like the worlds of Conrad and Maugham in the last days of colonialism, and those that followed in the first turbulent decades of struggle and Independence, described so well by Pramoedya, I think there are more big changes coming and alike the animals there will be many people left behind, unable to adapt. Those are always the interesting ones to write about. It has been a strange few months packed with more characters and incidents than I would normally meet in a decade and that makes the time seem to have passed both very slowly and very quickly. The constantly changing faces of the volunteers who usually stayed just two weeks had the confusing effect of making those two weeks seem more like a month. It became impossible to say who arrived and left in what week, and if Fiona met AJ, or Alex was with Anna on the fateful trip to Turtle Beach. Were Bethan and Jan a couple? I have started to make my own groups of people who should have known each other and create my own more interesting romances. And life becomes more and more of a fiction, just like this blog. Did you all follow the story of the treasure of Pulau Nangka? Were you disappointed when all that was found were two coins, that were probably forgeries and next to worthless? I wasn’t because it means the treasure is still there. The treasure hunters were almost certainly misled by a djin. And talking of djin… I have been looking for tonic for weeks and they have some here. But no gin. Is that tragic or what? There is no what about it. Tonight as I sat down to eat with the four other guests…. - We had some kind of sweet and sour omelette, small fish in a dark sauce, stuffed fried tofu and something else that I forget. I thought these buffetish things can be confusing. If I was Indonesian and faced with a buffet breakfast in Scotland I would pile my plate with haggis, bacon, kipper, croissant and top it with a sprinkling of cornflakes. I’d go home and tell my friends how delicious Scottish food was but what a strange way they have of mixing tastes. I might even try to recreate a similar meal for their appreciation and start a whole new cuisine. Like the Thai wok fried ‘American Breakfast’. – … as I sat down to eat another thunderstorm broke and flashes of lightening lit up the mangroves and the sea beyond. I was immediately taken back to another place in the Kingdom of the Past where some years before I was born – those who know me well will understand – I worked in a Butlin’s Holiday Camp in Ayr. The camp had a tropical bar with it’s own tropical thunderstorm against a wall of potted ferns and a painted background. But it was a good effect in the darkened bar and I’d go there after work to have a drink and enjoy the storm. If you cannot come to Sulawesi then go to Butlin’s in Ayr. If it and the bar are still there. And give my regards to… But I was not born then and the things happened that could not have happened or they happened to someone else. Inside my room in Sea Garden taken as I was packing my bags. Luckily I do not have to return with a rucksack full of soft toys as I have seen nothing of them since they ran off in Tasikoki over a month ago now. I also left my boots that had fallen to pieces to be an enrichment for orangutans. There was internet connection for about half an hour the whole time I was on Bunaken and I have written this in a cafe in Manado airport after an snack of fried banana with a fishy sambal dip and a glass of soursop juice follwed by an ice lemon tea.
My last meal before flying out of the elephant's trunk and off to another land and another blog.Another storm has broken outside but it will probably be over by the time I take off. In the Seagarden Resort recommended Anthony the driver who brings Tsikoki vols from the airport in his big car, and also does some of the day trips for the Centre. He sold me this place by teling me it was ideal for old people. A tropical old people's home!
It is rather windy today so I have not done much snorkelling but have seen some interesting things. Internet here is even worse than at Tasikoki and to make things worse I am trying to type this with my long distance contact lenses in, so can barely read the screen. The Seagarden wifi is down and I have had to come to a small beach cafe to write this. I'm already exhausted with the effort. Waiting for the public ferry to Bunaken. The Stella Maris.
I always associate the words withe the Stella Maris murder case from the 1930s? In that instance it was the name of a house. A not particularly interesting murder but one that caught the public eye. Perhaps because of romantic name. Now I have a coffee and some prawns to see to while I pass the next hour. For somewhere next to the fish market these are particularly nasty prawns, cold and leathery, and I think I might regret eating the one I tried.. Not only were the prawns awful but I was overcharged and had the additional humiliation of having to undergo the Benny Hill photo with a group of girls. Why they do this is beyond me! I like to think it is just to embarrass the bule. Perhaps there is a website where young people upload photos with ugly bules. Stranger things exist. Bimbin and Bonbon are the two sun ears and even they are flagging with the heat and humidity. They are lying sprawled on the platform looking miserable and not their usual bright curious seves. You can imagine how the vols feel after a days work. I'm tapping this out on my ipod after having said all the farewells and waiting for Anthon's car. More of Anthony another time. It should be here in less than five minutes now. This was my last meal out with the volunteers. It was somewhat marred by the fact that Rea's (3rd from left) ipad had been stolen earlier in the day. We arrived and thought we had booked into the place over the road but there was not enough room so we crossed over to the place in the photo. - Owned by the same people: in fact just an extension of the other place.- But it only served fish and some wanted chicken. So we went back and were sent over the road again to be sent back to the place opposite where some masakan padang style dishes had been laid out. So those who wanted fish went and ordered it off the slab outside and finally we settled down to eat. There is a new Indonesian vol from Jakarta -4th from left - whose name I can't remember and next to her is Selina the new Education and House manager. The Indonesian man is a gardener from Willie Smits's house in Tomohon who is doing some work around the Lodge. Meme was with us too but he seems to have disappeared from the picture Naturally we had the lights and music on as we drove home. I like the picture bekow as it looks so much more disco than minibus. The girl in the foreground is Anna, the vol with an extraordinary slow drawl. Someone said she had the ideal voice for a presenter on a very late night radio show. Since I arrived there have been several voices I won't easily forget. Marie whose voice kept reminding me of Dr Zoidberg. Stephanie a very nice young Indonesian vol everyone liked, except for the fact she had taken squeakycute to an almost impossible extreme. Her favourite phrase for almost everything was, That's funeeeeee!! And of course, Anna. Can….you…..pass…the….pea…nut….but…ter…ple..eez? Ms Cool. Here we have an example of a Dawkins meme. The British WW2 poster that has suddelny swept the world and is even being used as a political poster for the PDI (Partai Demokratik Indonesia).
PDI also have a fearsome bull as their symbol, and I like the design with the bull and Jokowi. Better than our rather tepid election posters, but it would not really work with the face of a Cameron or Miliband. Sometimes it's surprising to find there are holes in your your knowledge map of things. I have been following the Great Hamster of Alsace story online. I never knew that hamsters came that far west and imagined their range to end at the eastern Med, and just west of the Urals. It was a surprise to find that we have such a smart looking hamster living just across the water. The other night there was a rat in the roof. I was woken up around 3am by a tapping. I tapped back on the wooden bedpost. The tapper replied, and we continued to have a conversation until I could no longer stay awake and drifted off to sleep again. It could only be a rodent of some kind. Or a tapping ghost. Some of the vols, as was Dr Dian, are convinced there are ghosts here. I'm sure all the staff do too. This is Indonesia and there are spirits all around us. Last night the lights went out again and I stepped outside to talk to the tarsiers. At first it was difficult to tell the chirp of a tarsier from that of an insect, but the experience of seeing them at Tangkoko and careful listening has made me hear the difference. This difference is mainly in the unregularity of the call. A chirrup here and then a reply from a family member over there. Usually I hear 3 or 4 calling, but very little chance of seeing them unless you know their sleeping tree. I have been watching some new Indonesian films I bought on DVD, Some were quite good but a strong nationalistic message rather spoiled them for me. I'll mention two. Tanah Surga….. katanya Heaven on Earth….. they say. Here is an interesting review from an Indonesian blog.
The fil is very well shot and the story well told. For the most part the acting is good though as usual the rural Dyaks are mosttly shown as country bumpkins. The story is set on the Sarawak/Kalimantan border and there are lots of references to Konfrontasi - the confrontation between Malaysia and Indonesia in the late sixties. The portrayal of the Malays as vulgar, grasping and arrogant is pretty much racism. Though xenophobia is probably the correct, but harder to say, word. I find it a little disturbing when film makers who should, and probably do, know better jump on the patriotic bandwagon and wave the flag. Although the flag waving in Tanah Surga is very well done. 5cm was a film I enjoyed mainly because it concerns a climb up Mount Mahameru near Malang. A trip I had hoped to do myself but I never found time. Here's another Indonesian review in English. This one has some nice pictures from the film. I like the conceit of the film; five friends decide not to see each other for a few months and then meet again in a special place. The special place turns out to involve a climb up Mahameru. The climb has various effects on the friendship of the group but once on the summit when a flag is planted there is suddenly an impassioned paean to Indonesia. One of the group even turns down the chance to study at Manchester University prefering to study in Indonesia! Something another Indonesian blogger found completely ridiculous. A better film about friendship, popular too, is Perahu Kertas - based on a book by the Queen of Sastra Wangi (Chick Lit) Dee Lestari) but it is too youngluvy for me and did it not have the scenery of Mt Mahameru to keep me interested. I don't know why there seems to be a resurgence of nationalism in Indonesian cinema, but I can make a couple of guesses. Indonesia is still a young country and most people are still fiercely patriotic, so if a director wants to make a serious film and gain a respectable audience then a dose of patriotic fervour goes down very well and can be used for hiding more subversive themes. To a degree this happens in Tanah Surga, but for me the criticism of Java centred government was feeble compared with the patriotism and anti-Malay elements. Very hot again this afternoon and everything seems to be hiding in the shade and sleeping. Except the poor vols down in the Rescue Centre. Tujuh, enam, lima, empat, tiga….. Only two more days left before I leave here and head off to the island of Bunakan for a few days of snorkelling and long lie-ins. Until at least 7am! Tomorrow night I am taking the vols out to the fish market restaurant for a farewell dinner. The long process of packing has begun. Some things I will will be leaving behind. But what? My boots certainly, they have worn away and fallen to pieces. I have glued the soles back on and they may just last the final two days, but they are now beyond repair. There is a poncho that was never much use and a no longer white tee shirt that can go. I have picked up more books and DVDs and a few little oleh-oleh so I need to make space. Now I know I'm leaving I suddenly feel very tired. Partly because of the heat and humidity and partly because I can now allow myself the luxury of tiredness as I only have two more upat5 mornings ahead. The last couple of days I have gone for a walk before 5am in the hope of seeing some of the shyer animals and birds that live in the forest around the Lodge, but I have seen only a cat and a chicken. I have heard the tarsiers though and some strange bird calls that may have been nightjars, almost impossible to see here but I did see them on the dusty tracks in Cat Tien Park in Vietnam. Here is Hanuman an albino crab eating macaque. An odd monkey, slightly neurotic, he shakes the wire and sways form side to side when being fed, In a disturbed rather than an aggressive way. He is among those animals that can never be released in to the wild and will spend the rest of his life in Tasikoki. So poor Hanuman will never get to see Shri Lanka and fetch mountains from the Himalayas.C'est drôle toutes ces prisons as Francoise Hardy pointed out. Last night I went out with Michelle, long term volunteer, and Meme (remember Meme's Disco Angkot?) for a meal in a restaurant in Bitung fish market. Usually when we go out to eat there are vegetarians - such a damn nuisance! - so we can only go to more up market places, a bit boring and often empty, that have a range of meat free dishes and don't serve dog or cat. The fish market cafe was bustling and we had fish and chicken and some really hot sambals and lots of beer. Except Meme who is a Muslim. One thing I love about Indonesia is the Indonesian sense of humour, and here they really appreciate my jokes. Always a good measure of a truly civilised country. I have not laughed so much for a long while. Dr Dian has now left and returned to Java, but before she left she gave me a copy of her collection of keroncong music that she had on a memory stick. It is all the good 'ol stuff, including, of course, Bengawan Solo. Here is Rebbeca Pan's English language version that reappeared in 2000 in Wong Kar-wai's beautiful film In the Mood for Love. The English lyrics are terrible, the Indonesian is a lovely description of the river Solo flowing down to the sea. Here is a version by the legendary Hetty Koes Endang. I have been luck in my last week. Yesterday I saw the hanging parrots and today I had a good view of the montor lizard that for the past few months I have only heard scuttling through the undergrowth and dry leaves. It was only a small one, about a meter long, but very nicely coloured in cream and grey, and very bright and alert. Unlike some of the older lumbering monsters.
Yesterday when I was helping to refurbish the orang-utan cage (There are two adjoining cages and the orang-utans are moved from one to the other when the cages are cleaned and new greenery put in.) one of them, Is I think, seemed to resent us messing about with the old stuff. First he stuck his hand through the wire seized a branch that one of the girls was arranging at the back of the cage and dragged it over into his side; then he got a bamboo stick and knocked down the coconuts that had been put up on one of the platforms.
When he had finished knocking down cocnuts as if it were some kind of fairground game he flung the stick into the side where we were working. I heard Anna, a Swedish volunteer – but not very Swedish, if you know what I mean. – cry out and thought she had banged her head on one of the metal supports inside as she was the dodging the stick, but she had actually been hit by the heavy piece of bamboo. As she walked over she put her hand up to her head and it came away covered in blood. IT was one of those sickening moments when you realise something serious may have happened. Luckily it was only a small cut but one that nevertheless bled profusely. Here all cuts are treated as potentially dangerous not just because they can go septic very quickly in the heat and humidity, but also because of the possibility of infection from the animals. Anyway Anna is fine though only allowed to do light work for the next few days until the wound heals over. But where is the Green Parrot? Today as I was having coffee outside the Volunteer House I saw a beautiful pair of hanging parrots eating the fruit of the Jamaican cherry tree. They are a small bright green parrot with a scarlet cap and cartoon eyes. I had seen them at a distance in the Dua Bersudara Park but never up close. The birds often seem to go from one fruiting tree to another in small mixed flocks and with the parrots were a group of brilliantly coloured sunbirds. I’m trying to finish off my work but for some of it I need internet access, and just now that is very slow. Writing can be very frustrating, hands get sticky with sweat, mosquitoes delight to feed on someone sitting still and laptops and the like get extremely hot; having one on your lap becomes unbearable after a while. But most of all it is the mosquitoes I hate. They go for my feet and if those are covered they try my ears and a braver one might explore the possibility of drinking blood from the end of my nose. This usually happens when I am trying to do a trick bit of formatting; I swipe at the mosquito, accidently hit a key on the laptop and lose a morning’s work. Ants are a different matter. This morning gathering browse I got most of a red ant nest down the back of my neck and later spent a long time in the shower picking them off. The bites sting but don’t itch: it’s bit like standing too close to a sparking fire. I don’t mind the ants they don’t irritate me like the mosquitoes, except the tiny ones when the get into my bed and tickle as they struggle to swim through the sweat. I’m sure I’ve said all this before but today is a thundery dead wind day, and particularly bad for mosquitoes and bad internet. So I feel a remoan is not out of place. |
Archives
June 2017
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