Maros and Molino

---

The alarm goes off at the unwelcome hour of 6.15 as it’s another early start today. The breakfast buffet offers much but delivers little, at least if you want a western breakfast. An omelette and some fruit suffices.

The island of Sulawesi (formerly shown as Celebes on the maps people of a certain age studied at school) is an interesting and very diverse place. The capital, Makassar, where we stayed this first night, is a port town. The people of this area are either Makassar or Bugis, with separate languages and political agendas. We were struck as we flew over on the plane how virtually all the women on the plane were wearing hijabs, and quite a few of the men were wearing traditional Islamic dress. It is described in our guidebook as “staunchly Muslim” although we are assured they are moderate and not extremist. All the troublemakers are on Java we are told!

Our latest guide Sandi takes us to Maros about 40 minutes from the hotel where we walk through rice fields amidst a towering karst landscape. Sandi tells us it was in the locale that Alfred Russell Wallace, the Victorian naturualist, stayed in this area studies animal and plant species, and his correspondence with Charles Darwin was important in the establishment of the theory of evolution. The scenery is stunning but we see less than we hoped as much of the time our gaze is perforce focused on the 18 inches of path ahead of us to avoid missing our footing and falling into the rice field. So we stop frequently to admire the view or gulp down water. The butterflies are huge but impossible to photograph as they never seem to land. The coloured dragonflies are everywhere. We’re glad Sandi insisted on an early start as the temperature is hitting 30C by 830am and it’s very humid. We walk slowly past fish ponds and local homes, all built on stilts to cope with the seasonal flooding of the land. Crossing the partly constructed new bridge is a challenge, entailing walking up a steep ramp and then picking our way over the bridge atop the criss cross steel rods which will form the reinforcement for the concrete that has yet to be laid. After an hour, we stop for a cup of tea at a local home. Getting in is a bit like an obstacle course – over some bamboo laid on top of muddy ground, clamber over a small fence, pick our way through some mud, avoid kicking the chickens and avoid hitting our heads on the base of the house and finally clamber up some steps to a small platform built for the tourist guests where we sit incongruously on a moquette sofa. Tea, water, bananas and cake are produced. As usual we feel a twinge of embarrassment eating and drinking in front of our hosts and guide who are all fasting for Ramadan, but we get over it and drink anyway. The tea is smoky and rather addictive.

Back off on our trek to visit some prehistoric cave paintings but it rapidly becomes clear that this will be beyond us. After traversing a levee between paddies no more than six inches wide and nearly falling off, Sandi consults some locals and they tell him the rocky path up the cave is recently flooded and still partly under water. So that part of our walk is abandoned. We stop to wait for the macaques to come out and play but we reckon it's too hot for them. So no monkeys today.

Back to our tea stop where an early lunch is waiting. Very tasty local food is produced, far more than we need, and we eat. The driver joins us, telling us he is a Toraja and not a Muslim so he doesn’t have to fast, and he tucks in too. Our toilet stop consists of walking under the house through the quacking ducks, and then sidestepping along a 30 feet long concrete beam about 6” wide that sits above water to reach a very clean toilet with the squatting platform on a challengingly high pedestal. Sara manages not to fall off – just!

It's not midday and 35C and we are reeling a bit as we walk the short distance to the canoes that will bear us back to where we left the car. David goes in one, and Sara and Sandi in the other. Each is then paddled by a gnarled, weathered and toothless boatman who sets off down the narrow waterways. The midday muezzin is now in full swing from the local mosque and it seems rather incongruous to have the prayers bouncing off the karst as we glide otherwise silently through the waterways.

Trip over the toothless ones wave farewell and paddle off. We rejoin the car and go and visit another prehistoric cave which has some 40,000 year old hand painting on the walls. We then have to sign the visitor book in the gatehouse while being gawped at by the local lads who congregate here on their motorbikes after prayers. What intrepid fellows the English are, they are no doubt saying to each other in wonderment.

There follows a three hour drive over roads of varying quality and we finally snake up into the hills around Molino. This was a Dutch hill station when they ruled from Makassar and looks a pretty shabby place as we ascend the mountain road in the now pouring rain. Where on earth are we going?? We turn off down a grotty little lane. Oh dear, this will not be good. But it is all a bit of a surprise when we arrive. The “simple hut in the rice fields” turns out to be a luxurious bungalow that looks like it has been put together by an interior designer. Fabulous. Too many places to try out all the seating options on the various patios, and the hammering rain rules out putting several of these areas to use. Oh well!

The only downside is that they don't have a restaurant so we are driven into town to a “family restaurant” which is fine. Nasi goreng, beer, and back to the villa. On the way back we drive through town and it is evening prayers for the women. Everywhere there are women walking to answer the call to prayer, most dressed in white hijab and a long flowing and billowing robe that finished below the knee. Little girls are similarly attired. There are so many mosques in such a small area it is quite surprising.

As we sit on the bed sorting photos, we are surprised by a knock on the door at 8.30. It is Yusruf, our guide for tomorrow morning when we are scheduled to do a 3 hour walk up and down the hillsides covered in rice. Yusruf has consulted with Sandi and they have agreed this is beyond us, especially given the heavy rain. We agree on a walk of one hour, starting at 8.00am.

---