29th August – Pangandoran (Java)
Today we went through that love/hate relationship with Indonesia that is said to be typical of travel Asian style. Left the Losmen at 8am with assurances the ferry for Pangandoran left at 9am. I had the shits, if I tried to fart I would stain my pants, so consequently didn’t feel too good. Arrived at the boat terminal - really an iron shed and the wharf just a few planks - sat down and had a cup of tea. Again, guaranteed the boat comes at 9am. Come 9.30am and still no boat, feeling sick and cup of tea is obviously bad. Fighting to hold off puking and shitting my pants. When the boat is not here by 10am, we begin to ask people when it comes. One said 2pm, another 4pm, another 10pm, another 11pm, another 6pm, another not until tomorrow. We asked others about the price: 125rp, 150rp, 200rp, 225rp, 400rp. By now we are really getting cranky. Others said the boat doesn’t go to Pangandoran but to Kuching, and then you must catch a bus. Sitting down, quite disgruntled. I’m feeling lousy and glance over at a person squatting on a rock in the water, with a foot long turd hanging out of his arse.
Finally someone comes over, and, though we can’t quite understand each other, we gather he is from Pangandoran. He tells us that the boat comes at 1pm, goes to Kuching, cost 200rps, then another 75rp by bus to Pangandoran. We gather he owns a ‘hotel’ there, and he’d like us to stay. The price? 1000rps a night. When we say that is too expensive, the price subsequently drops to 750rps, then to 500rp.
The boat finally arrives at 1pm and along with 70-80 other people and assorted animals and cargo, we all make a dash for it. Basically the route to Kuching follows a river, firstly through salt water and mango swamps, to eventually a beautiful African style fresh water river with tropical jungle and palms, grass huts and canoes. With my health gradually improving, we begin to translate lingo with the people on board and, as per usual, this is to their great delight and humour.
It is a really interesting trip. Many varieties of ‘waders’, ‘bittern’ and herons in the mangroves. Natives paddle past in their dugout canoes laden with firewood. The ferry never ventures more than 20ft from the bank, it must be flat bottomed. Throughout the journey we are stopping to load and unload passengers. Methods of doing this varies. Sometimes the boat nears the bank, crew jump shore, pull the ferry in close, people scamper up the muddy slopes. Then a big shove and leap and we are off again.
Other times, natives just paddle out in their dugouts, grab the side of the ferry, take cargo and people off, load others on, and then paddle out. Sometimes two canoes are together with a platform joining them, and people just stand on the platform. We saw a guy sitting on a motorbike being ferried to the other side of the river in this manner. Sometimes in mangroves, you would see large villages, maybe 200 huts, virtually built just above the water line on stilts, real seaside swamp communities, a real fishing society. The swamp river opened out into a huge bay, maybe two miles to other side. A lone canoe takes off a woman and her little daughter, and the canoe begins the two mile row ashore.
Finally, as we get closer to Kuching, we enter the fresh water river, grass huts and dark bodied people line the shore. Kids jump for joy when they spot us. The toilets along the bank are interesting: a hole dug down the side of the bank, a three foot barrier to give privacy on the top, a pile of turds in the bottom, sometimes a head poking above the petition as we pass by.
At about 6pm we reach Kuching, and luckily dock at a reasonable wharf. We grab our bags and follow our friend through the village and along with 50 others jump in a bus for Pangandoran. The driver is like a suicide pilot. We get out with our mate at the turn off to Pantai (beach) and follow him through a village to his hotel, which is virtually a jazzed up native hut. Still, it is clean and he assures us there are no bed bugs or rats. Ramble down to the main street for some tea, then fall into bed for a much needed sleep.
30th August – Pantai (Java)
Awoke in the middle of the night, hot, sweaty and covered in mosquito bites. Cooled down in the mandi and put up the mozzie net. In the morning, starving hungry, so we headed uptown to eat. This place must be a tourist spot for rich Javanese only, the warungs wanting 350-500 for Cap Cai. Walked into Pangandoran, but not much available in Passar. Back to Pantai for a swim then into a warung for the worst meal we have ever had. Sop Ayam (slop ayam) and rice. Even I couldn’t eat it all. Finally settled for some tea.
Pantai is a magnificent spot, white sandy beach, sweeping bay lined with palms and grass huts. Our losmen is part of a group of grass and bamboo huts right on the beach. Little kids run around all day, laughing and playing. It is a real fishing community, sailing boats and canoes dot the horizon. Fascinating watching the people net fishing on the shore. Everybody helps: men and boys, women and girls, even the smallest children.
It all happens like this:
A canoe laden with net and rope heads out from shore, one end of the rope attached to pole in the sand. Men paddle the canoe maybe a mile out to sea and then travel parallel with the shore while they drop the net, then paddle back in with the rope off the other end of the net. On shore with maybe 6-7 people pulling on each rope, the net is hauled to shore. The catch is always small in number and size. Hundreds of fish mostly the size of sardines, baby squids and prawns, sometimes several larger fish and small rays. The catch is sorted and sold then and there on the beach. Dugouts loaded up again and out to sea. Whole process takes maybe 1-1.5 hours. Girls wear sarongs, boys, shorts or jeans. Whilst pulling in the nets they’re always falling in the water or getting sandy, but they just laugh and carry on. In western civilisation, everything is strictly organised, everybody has their task, if things go wrong we get uptight. Here, nobody cares, it’s no use getting upset and much better to laugh it off.
Only problem here is the cost of food. Spent an hour bargaining with our friend, got him to reduce cost of our accommodation to 400rp a night if we stay 4 days. He didn’t seem too happy, but the losmen is old, the locks on the door, pretty insecure and it is a bit noisy with the mosque nearby. Also convinced him to get our meals for us. Think he is getting them from warung up the street. Mie and nasi goreng 100rp, fried bananas (pisang goreng) 4-5rp, teh manis is 25rp. Twice as cheap as rest of town. He was a bit snaky towards us at first, but he is happy again. But with meals so expensive, if we couldn’t get things cheaper we just couldn’t afford to stay.
We watched the people fishing on the shore til the sunset, then went to bed for an early night’s sleep. One thing really in this place’s favour is that there is virtually no tourists or travellers (especially the French variety). People are very friendly and happy, the beach is good for swimming and surfing, and not a cloud in the sky all day.
31st August to 1st September - Pantai (South Java)
Two wonderful, relaxing days, spent mainly just soaking up the sun. Tuesday, swimming and surfing, watching the fishermen on the beach. In much better spirits, getting decent meals now. Went for a walk up the eastern coastline through coconut plantations and came across a horse racing track, would you believe, complete with stables and grandstand, not of a very high standard of course, but neither were the horses, motliest bunch of nags I’ve ever seen. Later in the afternoon, two more guests arrive at the losmen, a couple of sinister characters we named ‘kung Fu’ (he looks like ‘odd job’ of James Bond fame) and ‘slippery Sam’. Kung Fu looks like the hatchet man, Slippery Sam the shrewd schemer. Though we chat with them with help from our Kamus, and they seem friendly enough, we are still a bit apprehensive at bedtime; Rose reckons we’ll probably wake up with our throats cut.
Next morning we awaken by the loud guffaws of Kung Fu, throats not cut fortunately. Over breakfast we chat with them, turns out they’re a couple of army boys on leave. Slippery is a Major, and Kung Fu a Captain.
They show us a picture of the Generals murdered in the 1965 PKI coup, heroes of the State. We tell them we do not have communists in Australia.
Early morning swims, then off for a walk around the National Park on the Bluff at the end of the Peninsula. Although costing 50rp each it is well worth it. With beautiful native forest and wild monkeys, limestone caves with stalactites and stalagmites, fresh water rock pools, steep cliffs leading down to white sandy beaches, rocky points with tubing 8 to 10ft waves, and a large plateau area with much signs of wild buffalo (water variety) droppings, though we made no actual sightings. Tracks leading everywhere through the jungle down to the beaches zig zagging the plateau.
By now we’re hot again and it is back to the water. Sighted whilst swimming maybe two dozen Frigate birds, maybe Lesser, wingspan about 30 inches, brown with white markings and characteristic forked tail. A first for me. So far things ornithological speaking have been a bit disappointing except for the mangrove swamps between Cilacap and Kalipucang. Things should improve in Sumatra hopefully. Well, the boys assure us there is a train to Banjar tomorrow morning at 5am so we set the alarm for 3.30am and it is off to bed.