Indonesia's Floating Paradise: The River Markets of South Kalimantan




Thousands of Indonesians travel to Thailand each year to see the renowned Damnoen Saduak Floating Market. Little do they know, there is a floating market closer to home, located in Banjarmasin, the capital of South Kalimantan. 

Early Morning ‘Fortune’ 

It was raining hard in the pre-dawn hours. The call for morning prayer had not been made yet. The city of Banjarmasin was still in deep slumber, but I was already up and ready by the side of the main road, waiting for any transport that could take me to the morning Kuin floating market. 

Having my previously arranged tour suddenly cancelled due to an insufficient number of guests to fill the quota, I was forced to make last-minute travel arrangements to the floating market. I was sleepy, soaked and disoriented. Looking at the empty road, I began to think that going to Thailand’s floating market is a better idea. At least the logistics in tourist-friendly Thailand would have been easier to arrange. 

Luckily for me, Indonesia is filled with friendly people who are always ready to lend a hand to others. 

Banjarmasin was deserted at dawn with no sign of taxis, ojeks or any other vehicles passing by, but an old man took pity to me. He helped me wake up a taxi driver, who was sleeping in his taxi, and asked him to take me to the Kuin Market Dock, where I would be able to rent a klotok (small traditional boat) to cruise around the floating market. 

The driver wasn’t thrilled to be woken up so early, but as Indonesians say, “You can’t and shouldn’t refuse rezeki [ fortune destined by God], especially that which comes in the morning.” So he drove me through the rain and darkness, all the way to the dock. 

Once I was there, I faced another problem. Where were the klotoks that I could rent? The rain must have already halted business for the day. 

Walking down the dock, I finally found a single boat. The captain, Utuh, suggested Rp 150,000 ($16.38) for the rental, which would include visits to some surrounding islands, but I haggled him down to Rp 100,000. It was fair enough for both of us. 

I hopped on and he immediately sailed along the Barito River. After a short ride, he stopped the boat in the middle of the Kuin River and asked me to wait for the floating market to emerge. Emerge? From where? There I was, clutching my umbrella tightly, my mind filled with expectations but my eyes weary with exhaustion. I gave into a quick nap. 

Emerging Market 

Soon after the call to morning prayer sounded, Utuh woke me up from my little nap. He told me the market was coming. “Coming” was indeed the right word. As I pulled myself out from the canopy, I saw several canoes carrying fruits, vegetables, and fresh goods, making their way to the center of the watery area. The petite canoes, locally known as jukungs, were overflowing with the vibrant colors — bananas, cucumber and spinach were , stacked in the front of the boat. The vendors were mostly women energetically steering their jukungs with wooden paddles. Their heads were covered in distinctive traditional headware, round hat made from bamboo. 

As the sun slowly rose, the activity at the Kuin floating market increased. Arriving from various small canals linked to the Kuin river, buyers started arriving, paddling to their desired vendors. Once they were close enough, the haggling take place. 

The radio in my klotok played some traditional Banjarese music as I sat outside watching the market with growing fascination. It was hard to believe this well-preserved tradition still exists in the era of shopping malls and on-line commerce. As the sun rose in the sky, new boats began arriving with eager tourists snapping away with their cameras. As the second largest floating market in the world, the exotic Kuin attracts many amateur photographers. 

With the morning hours passing by, the sellers eventually finished their business then steered back to the canals from where they came. Utuh said they were off to smaller floating markets in remote areas along the Barito or Kapuas rivers to do more business. Life is still centered along the rivers in Banjarmasin as most of the population lives along the river banks. 

After I finished sightseeing, it was time to have some breakfast — a floating breakfast. 

We glided slowly through the hordes of canoes as Utuh steered our boat to one particular klotok that was actually a floating cafe. As we got closer to his boat, the vendor tied our boat with a rope linked to his. I guess this “anchor” also functions as a security measure to prevent his clients from doing an eat-and-run. 

Packed in his half-meter wide boat, the man displayed a selection of dishes, from a heavy breakfast combo of rice wrapped in banana leaves to different kinds of traditional donuts, fried bananas, paes singkong and paes pisang (traditional banjar cakes of cassava or banana mix wrapped in a banana leaf). 

I decided to try a local delicacy so I went with rice with spicy egg. As soon as we ordered, the vendor used a wooden stick with a nail attached at its edge to harpoon our wrapped meal. He passed the food to us with the stick, too. This was a very clever technique as it would be hard to maneuver around the tiny boat to serve customers. For a three-course breakfast that included several cakes, we only paid Rp 25,000. 

Monkeying Around 

Our next stop was an island, Pulau Kembang, which is home to the lutung and l o ng-nose bekantan, both rare specie s of monkey. I didn’t have a good first impression of the island and it only went downhill as the visit continued. P lastic rubbish was scattered everywhere around the place and it seemed neglected and ghostly. 

Although it is endorsed as an official Taman Wisata (Tourism Park), the Rp 5,000 admission only gets you a view of monkeys hanging out by a gazebo. Also, the monkeys were rather aggressive, which made the recommendation that I buy peanuts to hand around seem suicidal. I rushed back to the boat in fear of my life. 

But the m orning got better after that and I enjoyed floating on the calm Barito River and se e ing the serenity of local life unfold. It was much nicer than fending off hostile monkeys. 

Historic Mosque 

Back on land, I followed Utuh’s suggestion of visiting the oldest mosque in South Kalimantan, which was located just a five-minute walk from the boat dock. 

The mosque was built by the first Muslim king of the Banjar Kingdom, Sultan Suriansyah, as a way of promoting Islam across the region. 

The design of the building was adapte d from the Demak Mosque in Central Java, with the roof styled in tiered layers following the principle of Meru, the sacred mountain that leads heaven and is often found in the architecture of religious buildings in Java and Bali. 

As with Demak, the entire building is made from wood and painted green, the color o f Islam. Adorned with intricate carvin g s of Banjarese flowers and plants, the mosque brings a sense of serenity and comfort. Added to the feeling is the fact that the wood construction absorbs heat, making the inside cooler. 

The laughter of local children playing football also found its way into the mosque. It made me calm; I felt safe in this house of God, which has survived for many centuries. 

Another five-minute walk brought me to the tomb of Sultan Suriansyah. The complex serves as the final resting place for the sultan, his queen and several others prominent Banjar Kingdom figures. The place has become a favorite for local and regional pilgrims. 

Though it was surely an interesting place to visit, a lack of signage and information made the mosque visit not as interesting or significant as it should have been. It would be nice if the government would invest in maintenance so that visitors could learn the history of this unique mosque. Remember that if you come, you must bring properly modest clothing as it is considered a sacred place by most Banjarese.

http://www.thejakartaglobe.com/lifeandtimes/indonesias-floating-paradise-the-river-markets-of-south-kalimantan/508350

Train Rides

I love travelling by train, some interesting trains that I have caught;  


The metro train in Dublin to Dalkey is very scenic, hill side views along the edge of the bay, only costs you a couple of euros. 

The Heathrow to Cardiff train is very easy and comfortable.

I've also caught a train Hanoi to Hue in Vietnam

Trains in Thailand north to Chiang Mai and south to Samui. 

The Ghan from Alice Springs to Melbourne

Jakarta to Bandung

Guangzhou to Hong Kong

Jakarta - Yogyakarta

And technically it is not a train, but a tram, but the Hong Kong Peak Tram ride is a classic.

Inside the World of the Baduy

Inside the World of the Baduy





Once, a woman of the Inner Baduy tribe told her grandson a story. On top of the earth, she said, women gave birth from their heads. On the bottom of the earth, they gave birth from their feet. But here at the center of the earth, in the forested Kendang highlands of West Java’s Banten Province, babies came from their mother’s bellies.

Young Kodo thought it was a silly story. There was no such thing as the “top” or “bottom” of the world.

Many years later, on a September night filled with the screech of cicadas, Kodo sits on the floor of a thatched Outer Baduy home. Beneath the once-white cloth he wears wound around his head, his face is alight with interest, his eyes intent on the atlas lying open in the center of an unlikely circle of people: several his fellow Inner Baduy, their Outer Baduy hosts, myself and two other visitors.

The owner of the house, Jakam, is explaining that the earth revolves around the sun. Kodo and his compatriots, taking this in stride, have a few follow-up questions for us.

Why is your skin white and ours darker? How does that camera work? And how big is the Internet?

An Unlikely World

There are not many places in the world where this type of exchange is even remotely possible, but the Baduy — or most of them — have steadfastly rejected modern conveniences and knowledge in accordance with the ways of their ancestors. The extremely conservative Inner Baduy live in a small, sacred area that foreigners are not permitted to enter and their mystical leaders, the Pu’un, are not allowed to leave. The Outer Baduy, slightly more lax when it comes to things like modern clothing and cellphones, live in villages that dot the hills around this inner sanctum in a protective buffer zone.

It is all the more incredible considering that the Baduy live within walking distance of the sprawling, smoking megacity that is Jakarta.

Walking distance for the Inner Baduy, that is. Gas-powered vehicles are off-limits, but they still go into the city on occasion to sell honey they have harvested or palm-sap sugar they have made. The bumpy, 120-kilometer trek — drivable in about six hours — takes them about three days. Wearing shoes would also violate their animist religion, known as Sunda Wiwitan, so they walk barefoot.

Just how sturdy their feet are becomes clear the next day as Kodo and his cousins Dede, Carakin and Sapri lead us on a walk through the highlands. Not a single one of them falters as we trek over high passes and through cool, wooded areas to see a bridge that Vita Ardiyana describes as an “icon” of their people.

Vita, a young woman who grew up just outside Baduy territory, organized our tour. She speaks Sundanese, a modern form of the Baduy’s ancient dialect that is close enough for her to be understood.

Every month or two, depending on demand, she’ll arrange trips from Jakarta for people to spend a night in an Outer Baduy village.

“You will take showers and swim in the river with the community,” she told us in an e-mail before our trip that also instructed us to bring drinking water, a flashlight, a raincoat and other basic necessities.

As for things to leave behind, she wrote: “The attitudes of an ignorant and selfish city dweller.”

About halfway to our destination, we encounter someone well-known to Vita: Aya Mursit, an Outer Baduy who acts as a liaison with the local government and the Muslim Sundanese who inhabit the villages that border Baduy land.

Hard Work

No community remains as unspoiled as the Baduy without deliberate intention, and talking to Aya Mursit, it is clear that it would be a grave mistake to underestimate his people because of their simple lifestyle. They are able to live the way they do in this modern world — without paying taxes to the government, with no deeds or titles to their land, refraining from formal education for their children — because they have some serious diplomatic talent.

To appease outside pressure, for example, they once built a mosque on their land. They didn’t use it, but it threw government envoys off the scent. When census takers pushed for access, the Baduy helpfully gave them a detailed list of answers they had compiled themselves. On the new e-KTP electronic identity cards that all Indonesians are required by law to possess, their religion was not listed, so the Baduy have left that field blank.

Each year, the government doggedly tries to give them money to build a school. Each year, they decline, seeing it as an insidious erosion of their culture. “If the children go to school, it’s just the same as the outside world,” Aya Mursit says through Vita. “They would be exposed to different values, and risk becoming greedy.

“A lack of an education isn’t the same thing as a lack of intelligence.”

The Baduy have long been considered a source of wisdom and magical power by other Indonesians. Many have sought an audience with the spiritual Pu’un leaders over the years, but they are picky about who they will see. Former President Sukarno, who granted them government protection, sometimes consulted with them. When his successor Suharto tried to visit in his helicopter, the Pu’un sent an envoy.

The Good Life

By and large, the Baduy are walking advertisements for clean living. Their skin is glowing and unblemished, their physiques are the type that gyms plaster on billboards. Their society has essentially zero crime.

But Baduy is not utopia.

One of Jakam’s neighbors, a young mother, was bitten by a snake some months ago. She was treated by a traditional healer but received no modern medicine and died horribly over three days.

A 2006 study by the Bina Karta Lestari Foundation, an NGO that works toward sustainable development, found that the government considers the Baduy to be living in poverty. Using income, education level, sanitation, access to electricity and savings as indicators, they are indeed. But measuring access to adequate clothing, food and housing, they do not lack for anything.

So how long can they hold out and keep their way of life intact? Considering their long history of sustainable practices, the answer would seem to be “indefinitely” — if they are left to their own devices.

But as we continue our trip, there is more evidence of encroaching modernity. Politicians’ campaign signs crop up even in this remote area. A few cement pilings are in place, presumably the vanguard of a modern bridge over a river.

But that’s not the bridge they brought us to see. Our destination comes into view, and they smile at our gasps of astonishment.

The bridge is a wild tangle of roots that have naturally twined together across a stretch of rocky stream.

It is equal parts mossy and smooth, held up, at least for now, by an ingenious blend of old and new.

Child Worker (Busking) in Jakarta

While you read this, maybe your children are playing with their friends or getting some after-school tutoring to improve their grades. But for 10-year-old Bagus, his extracurricular activity involves jumping from bus to bus, singing the latest song he can remember while plucking along on his ukulele, hoping to receive some coins for his effort. My Jakarta ran into Bagus on a Kopaja bus while traveling from Slipi to Grogol, We asked him how he felt being a busker, what he did with the money he earned and his hopes for the future. While most children dream of being an astronaut or a celebrity, all Bagus dreams of is a steady job in an office.

When did you start working as a pengamen (busker)?

I don’t remember exactly when, but I think it might have been around when I was still 7.

Do you go to school?

Yes, I’m in the second grade, but I don’t want to tell you where I go to school [smiles].

What’s the matter, don’t your teachers and friends know that you are a busker?

Yes, my teachers know, but they never say anything about it at all. But I never let my friends know that I am a pengamen on buses.

Why is that, do you feel embarrassed?

Yes, nobody wants to do this for a living. Deep down in my heart I feel really embarrassed having to sing in buses and ask for money. But there’s no other choice. Having a side job that I wouldn’t be embarrassed about would be a luxury. All that matters is that the job pays.

What do your parents think about you singing on buses for money?

They both know that I’m a busker, but understanding our situation, they say that the decision is up to me whether I want to busk or not.

How long do you sing every day?

After school ends at about 4:30 p.m to 9 p.m.

So how do you make time to study?

I study and do my homework in the morning.

What do your parents do for a living?

My dad is a tukang parkir [parking attendant] and my mom takes in laundry from other people. I also have two younger brothers and sisters.

Do your parents ask for your money?

Never. They never ask how much I earn or how I use the money. As long as they know I’m not using it for something bad. I consider it my allowance.

How much can you make a day?

Around Rp 20,000 [$2]. Most people will give me Rp 2,000, but once I got Rp 50,000 from an old auntie. Sometimes I can only make Rp 10,000 a day. I ride from Slipi Kemanggisan to Grogol and from Grogol back to Slipi Kemanggisan again. This is my only route.

And how do you spend your money?

I save all of my money. I plan to use it when my school has its annual trip later. But sometimes I use my money to buy some Indomie [instant noodles]. I really love eating instant noodles [laughs].

Do you smoke?

No, I am afraid to smoke, I don’t think that my throat can hold it. I’m afraid that I will cough uncontrollably if I do.

Great to hear that, but does that mean you will smoke when you are strong enough?

Mmm, I don’t think so. I am pretty afraid to smoke [laughs].

But you’re not afraid of jumping from bus to bus?

Not at all. I am used to doing that.

What about preman [thugs], do any of them ever come and take your money?

Luckily no, I never have any of them asking for my money, but I get scolded a lot by the bus drivers. I don’t really know why they get so angry at me, but I am really afraid when they do.

And do you have somebody to protect and organize you?

No, I don’t belong to any groups or anything like that. I am doing this alone.

When you think about the future, what is your dream?

I want to work in an office.

I notice that you aren’t wearing any sandals. Where are your sandals?

I lost them a few weeks ago [smiles], but I don’t want to buy another pair. It’s too expensive and it’s better for me to save my money.

Bagus was talking to Edison Lestari on a Kopaja 88 from Slipi to Grogol.
source

Mountain hiking in Indonesia

Indonesian Hiking in the Bag
Catriona Richards | January 30, 2012

 

For anyone looking for a challenge in the New Year, here’s a record to beat: British hiker Daniel Quinn climbed 14 mountains in Indonesia last year, bringing his total number of conquered peaks to 49 since he arrived here three years ago — and that’s not including the 21 hills, volcanoes and other peaks he attempted along the way. His motivation? To upload information on Indonesia’s lesser-known hiking spots to the Web site Gunung Bagging (gunungbagging.com), started by Quinn and fellow hiker Andy Dean in 2009.

The name comes from the century-old British tradition of “mountain bagging” (gunung is the Indonesian word for mountain), whereby hikers challenge one another to conquer a checklist of peaks categorized by topographic prominence. It is called “bagging” because each peak conquered is another one “in the bag” for the hiker.