Diari de Sulawesi, dia 32, ports de Bitung

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Bitung ghost fishing harbour.

Estic ja un dia més a Sulawesi  del que planejava, però no m’importa 😀

M’alçe a les 6:20, massa pronte, deuria haver dormit més  però  el acostumar al cos a una rutina té el seu preu.Tot i això volia açar-me a les 5, per tant no està tan mal.

L’Allan no s’alça fins les 7 i aprofite per un altra dutxa, feia calor, i un poc de wifi.

L’Allan està cansat encara i m’oferisc a passejar-li la gossa, una peluda xicoteta criatura, molt fora de lloc en aquest clima.

Matí  lent fins que desdejunem sobre les 9 i em deixen una moto per explorar els ports i trobar un vaixell.

Però primer busque un sastre, els meus 2 pantalons estàn esgarrats des de fa 3 i 4 dies respectivament (un pujant a una moto, l’altre en un pal a la selva), amb cosits precàris meus. El sastre que trobe no es bo i fa una fena no molt millor que la meua. No em cobra però.

Em sentia mal fins el moment (cansat, malestar de panja) però en el moment entre el port tot se’m passa, festival de coses fotogràfiques!

El 2n vaixell que pregunte m’agafa, molt estranyament fàcil. A les 10 de la nit se n’aniran.

Però continue preguntant just in case, cosa que em dóna per a descobrir la vida dels ports de Bitung, i fotos genials.

Trobe a altre viatger solitari, de prop  de Boston, que li volen timar per anar a la ila de davant, a mi mai em timen… De fet em regalen un batut poc després.

Torne a casa a les 2 i menge cereals.

Poc més fins que a les 8:30 vaig a sopar amb l’allan i em conta la seua vida prifesional, bàsicament ha creat la seua empresa perquè és bo en el negoci, però  no li entusiasma, voldria ser cinematograf.

El tio seu ser prou crack perquè l’enviaren a Canadà 1 any d’intercanvi estudiantil, i li donaren el lloc de mànager en una companyia de logística de peix als 2mesos d’entrar a treballar. A més com ars és el seu propi amo es dedica quasi mig any només  a treballar i l’altre només a viatjar.

A sí, és obertament gay, però al ser d’origen cristià i el seu avanpadat holandès, no té problema en mostrar-ho i viure-ho, tot i estar a pais assiatic. Inclús fa broma del tema :D, sobretot de com podria ofendre als radicals islàmics. Molt occidental.

També mire una peli de un músic de bateria i el seu mestre ultra exigent que l’abusa per a que siga un nou geni. Això em fa pensar altre cop en la paradoxa de van Gogh, també  com els que poden xuclar tota la seua energia vital per a una sola meta solen crear grans coses. Però òbviament el camí  és  motivació i no un mestre capullo, per molt exigent que siga.

Sopem prou bé i em deixa al port, on la nau està bollint en gent, la majoria families.

Bé descobrisc que a més de nau de carrega fa de ferri, ja que transporta gent a illetes poc visitades. Per a això  han construït un toldo sobre mija coberta on la gent monta els seus llocs per dormir i les coses a trabsportar. ous, molts ous. Molts.

No ixin fins les 22:40, altre vaixell ha amarat al costat.

Parle en el 2n d’avord (m’imagine) i em conta tot l’itinerari que faran i que aniran a Raja ampat en Papua després de donar la volta a maluku.

Se m’obri un pla, anar per terra fins l’últim port a Maluku (em diu que tardaran una setmana en donar la volta), i unir-me a ells.

Gaudisc de la vista de tota la euxida del llarg port (entre una llarga illa i la peninsula, cosa que fa un port natural).
El sentiment se vore com t’allunyes  d’un port en un vaixell és ser part d’un gran viatge, com remontar-me a travesses remotes en els temps. Adeu màgic Sulawesi.

Allà  a les 12 canvie el meu lloc per dormir de baix la carpa a baix el cel estrel·lat. Moltes fotos. Torne a intentar el truc d’imaginar profunditat a les estrel·les i endinsar-me en el pensament de formar part de la galàxia (de l’univers encara no puc). Amb la via lactea creuant el cel és fàcil, però em costa. Veig algunes estrel·les fugaces, bona nit.

Death, to die

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I don’t know if I already mentioned this in one entry, anyway this is a good moment as death is overwhelmly present in Toraja, specially the exposed bodies.

Well I’m not afraid of Death anymore, I don’t know exactly since when. Don’t get me wrong here, I don’t want to die EVER, and ever is a long time, at least as long as it takes to understand what time is :D. That’s what this blog is about 😉

Is just that in the past, specially as a kid, the idea of death was almost the only thing that terrified me. Well that and stitches, but stitches where less common.

Now I accept it as one possible (and highly provable), although undesirable, outcome of my life. Quite obvious afterall.

But  I’m at peace with the thought that one day I might cease to exist, even tomorrow. I want to finish  the day at least 😀 (I’m ok too with the thought that it might end it up now, That’s how I realized I don’t fear death)

I had an extremely good, happy and lucky life, in which I’ve been able to do what I wanted (still i miss jogging on the moon, but oh well).

I’m deeply aware of how fortunate that is. How fortunate to simply live doing what fills you up, to live in a epoch with so much knowledge on your finger tips and travel available for anyone that really is willing to (not to the moon though). And a society that allows you to do so.

I guess at some point I achieved internal peace and with that being afraid of death or worrying about it goes away. Or maybe is something different…

It’s a pity that i didn’t realize the time around when this happened. I just was aware of it when thinking that you could die and the though didn’t worry me at all. Had I.realized when that final change happened I would have more clues on why it happened.

I’ll  share my thoughts if I find another reason.

Now I just share the excitement of discovery 🙂

Wanderer

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I guess there is a point in your traveling in which you cross some kind of barrier and you cease to be a traveler: someone who wants to go to one place and do something. Then you become a wanderer: someone that wants to keep moving regardless of the way or the destination, only the movement itself and unexpectedness of your encounters are the aims of your way, one who wonders.

The wanderer though still has the legs of a traveler and the eyes of a tourist. It’s the envelope of the 2 with something else that is bigger that the sum of the parts.

It just feels right to be in the middle of somewhere that nobody would wish to be. That you belong to that moment. But the moment goes away and your traveler legs set the next step, and your tourist eyes make joy of it.

Just wander and let it go.

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Sulawesi diary, day 7, evening, motorbike conquest. Mountain crossing from Mamasa to Toraja, Sulawesi

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If a main road can be bad, imagine how a secondary one that is not in the maps can be.  The world really keeps throwing worse and worse paths!

http://www.wikiloc.com/wikiloc/view.do?id=12845209 (Mamasa – Toraja, moto conquest road, 2 hitchhikes)

If a previous post was motorbike kingdoms, as only motors could access some parts, this is motorbike conquest. The landscape refuses to be dominated but the motorbikes and only the motorbikes manage to pass trough.
Landslides, falls of hundreds of meters,  roads eaten by water, water ways, mud, a lot of mud, impossible slopes, lose rocks, all to hide one of the entrances to amazing valleys. This is the continuous conquest of these sturdy machines and their skilled fearless drivers.

In this conquest lands, without electrification and telecommunication system the news come at the speed of motorbike.

The story.

After getting a wrong way in a bifurcation I walk for more than 1h from the funeral place, on a good road but with no traffic.
I ask a moto coming the other way if that’s the way to Toraja, it isn’t. Fortunately he takes me and drives me back to the bifurcation.

After 1h walking on the main road, tired from the monotonous scenery and the noon sun i decide to hitchhike again. Strangely there are no 4 wheel vehicles passing…

The 3rd moto stops, it’s Natan, a 50 something year old man. The moto is a 20 years old Honda Win, like the one i owned in Laos! but not a copycat. He, before letting me on, checks the tire, chain and the suspension of the moto. Strange, that never happened before in any of my hitchs… I’ll have the reason for that soon after.

If a main road can be bad, imagine how a secondary one that is not in the maps can be.  The world really keeps throwing me worse and worse paths! And i know that probably  there is still a long way to go 😀

To hitchhike a motorbike in this kind of road is having a mixture of ignorance, heartlessness (your ride and his moto really have to do extensive extra effort to allow you to go through, even when walking in the bad parts), and having gone trough a lot of any kind (bad stuff).

It can be done… but really you need the right mindset.

Anyway there is always the option of simply hiking, is not the hardest trek ever, but also not the prettiest. There are 2 or 3 nice landscapes and few traditional mamasa/toraja houses, but that’s it.  The real wander of amazing roofed houses appears when getting into Ponding, where the good road just starts, to get into toraja. 

There is high chance of rain, as the clouds hang on the mountain, making striking views but wet muddy roads :P. The road itself has not seen any car in months, and maybe even years. Several landslides and trees cut the road making it only accessible to 2 wheel vehicles, and even these need Dakar level drivers to ride through… For walking the worst are the mud traps, and a lot of loose rocks on the steppy slopes. I dismounted and did these several times on foot, sometimes being faster than my ride, so no problem.

In the wikiloc profile the road  is described (with a small mistake on my part choosing way, that adds about 8km to the track). The terrible amazing road lasts for 50km at least (Mamasa to Ponding). Far from the 36km that lonely planet (2009, with buses on it) quotes, I wonder where they got that from, I guess there shall be another shorter trail through the mountains, or my GPS is terrible. Anyway only getting to the first pass is already 30km…

In any cade, as with my other English posts, if you want adventure, hardships, suffering, and you have the heart for it, this is your path!

Something to tell back home and a way that enlightens. Both what you see and what you think (at least in my case as I’ll show in the following posts).

To finish the day, the last 40km are in a perfectly paved way, but still reaaally  windy and steppy, not the best when carrying a 13kg backpack in a Honda Win with a small rack (I had to learn how to hold on the seat when going up, I almost fell twice before finding the trick :).

This road also has some spots with  landslides, limiting a lot the 4 wheel vehicle flow. But the scenery is even better than the 1st part: crazy river valleys, pine clouded mountains, and hundreds and hundreds of Toraja amazing houses and  ricefields.

Natan is a super cool guy who stopped on some scenic points for me to take pictures, and offered to host me at his house. It had a crazy roofed Toraja rice house in the garden 😀

Si escric res referent a aquest viatge s’haurà de dir mal camí, o bad road o jalan rusa, o en les altres llengues. És  en diferència on més he sofert i on millor experiències he tret 😀

Sulawesi, Cèlebes

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He de mencionar que vuic arribar a aqueta illa des de que era xicotet, ja que m’encanten els mapes i si la veu a un mapa del món òbviament penses que el qui ha fet el mapa està bromejant…
Això explica en part que haja volgut fer la xicoteta odisea per mar, arribar en avió o simplement pagant un ferri no és tan especial 🙂 Llàstima que no  poguera creuar des de Malaysia…

Bé el cas és que espere homes en la cara al pit i sense cap, dracs llançant flames, monstres marins, gent  amb ulls i orelles al nas, mags, dinosaures, un túnel al centre de la terra i inversió de la gravetat, espere no decepcionar-me 😀