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Published: December 11th 2017
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Sape
Arriving in Sumbawa I never made it to Sumba. Ferry didn’t leave. High seas. Rainy Season. Waves too big. Maybe tomorrow, maybe not. Maybe the next day, maybe not. Unpredictable. I didn’t have time to wait it out. So instead I focused on Sumbawa. With me still was Bilan.
Sumbawa is different. Apart from a few surfer enclaves on the south coast, no tourists come to Sumbawa. Most skip it, preferring to take a three day boat journey from Lombok to Flores, just seeing the coast from afar and stopping at off-shore islands for snorkeling and swimming.
Sumbawa is also staunchly Muslim. Conservative to the bone. You arrive in Sape from Labuanbajo on Flores and you feel you have arrived in a different world completely. Sape is beautifully decrepit stilt houses, men crafting wooden boats under the blazing sun, woman sitting outside the store waiting for a customer, boys showing of their motorcycling skills, and girls giggling at the sight of the rare tourists. It is an old fashioned well-worn small time port, with palm trees and a look that you might find on postcards of bygone times, the ones that depicted far away tropical harbours, full of rickety low slung houses.
Sape
Boat It seems to be stuck somewhere in-between the past and modern era, not knowing which way to go.
The call to prayer rings out loud in Sumbawa. I had almost forgotten what it sounded like. However, Sumbawa isn’t easy. Transport outside the main towns is haphazard. And transport between the main towns is crappy. It all wouldn’t matter if it weren’t for the fact that those in charge of transporting you seem to think they can ask any manner of price because you are a tourist.
It is long since I have encountered such an attitude in Indonesia. In fact I can’t really remember the last time somebody quoted me double price for any form of transport. In Sumbawa though, this is the norm. Inflated prices for short rides, constant haggling whenever you want to get anywhere. A bemo into town from the bus station? Four times the usual price! You laugh and walk away. They lower it to double the usual. Want to get it down more? No way!
And so Sumbawa quickly becomes a drag rather than a pleasure. You wonder how this attitude has developed. And you feel sad because the folk on the
Sape
Harbour and our hotel.
Photo courtesy of Bilan streets are so kind, and happy to see you. If only the bus drivers, the bemo drivers and the ojek drivers would be nice too. Life would be grand if only. But if only never happens.
We ended up going from town to town, skipping sights here and skipping sights there. Sometimes out of frustration, sometimes because we couldn’t figure out how to get there without having to charter an expensive motorbike or car. Sumbawa therefore was an island of towns for us.
Except once. Once I decided that what I wanted to see was important enough to merit the hassles and transport scams I had to endure to get there. A little known site on the north coast of Sumbawa. Hindu and Buddhist figures carved into sea-side cliffs. Weathered and on the face of it perhaps unspectacular, were it not that it is the eastern most site that such carvings have been found. Its setting is sublime, and its tranquility heavenly. I walked around pondering those who had carved it all those centuries ago. What brought them there? And why did they choose this place? It was enigmatic, and maybe that is why I liked it.
Sape
Mosque.
Photo courtesy of Bilan It was a fleeting moment, soon I was back in the cities. Some of them were old Sultanates, and those had wooden palaces to prove it. Others didn’t even have those. The Sumbawa blues descended on me. I felt I was seeing nothing of this island, and it annoyed me. And I became weary and lackluster in my attempts to do and see more. During the day it was hot and broody, in the evening the rain came pouring down from the heavens, as if it too cried for Sumbawa.
I dare not say that I have seen this island. I have not. I have experienced its cities, and its buses, I have seen the country side from stained windows on cracked seats too small to fit even the small Sumbawans. I met many hospitable city dwellers, and quite a few unhospitable bus/bemo and motorcycle drivers. I heard a school girl say ‘go home’ to us, and then in Indonesian (thinking I wouldn’t understand) calling us ‘dogs’, an insult in Islam. I have mixed feelings about Sumbawa to be honest. Of all the Indonesian isles I found it the least hospitable. But I cannot say if it truly is.
Sape
Boat under construction.
Photo courtesy of Bilan Maybe I was just tired or not in the mood for it.
Sumbawa to me was an island of missed opportunities, whereas Sumba was simply an island I missed. Was it the Sumba or the wa that caused those misses? Who knows?
Either way, my days in Indonesia are numbered. I have spent the last few lazy days in Kuta, Lombok, not to be confused with its hedonistic brethren in Bali. Kuta is a small beach side village, quiet and yet very much on the tourist trail. When the smell of banana pancakes hits your nose, you know you have returned to backpacker central. Off-season redeems a lot though. It’s not at all unpleasant to spend my final days here munching on the backpacker’s favourite breakfast snack.
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Dancing Dave
David Hooper
Coulda woulda shoulda
When ya got the Sumbawa blues do ya do what the locals probably do? Isn't the secret of life when it's balmy and the ferry is not running to sit with the locals and watch the world go by? Hours can slip into days...weeks...months...zzzzzz. Can you do what the locals do, Ralf?