Probably the most famous volcano in Indonesia, and definitely the most popular one. Usually I try to avoid such touristic places, yet I decided to make an exception this time. So here are the results.

To Pagimana I came quite accidentally, I stopped there as it was getting late, and to next bigger town on the way, Ampana, was too far to get before the darkness. I thought it would be just another transit town, but actually I found it quite interesting, so I stayed there for a couple of days.

What actually made me stay there? A very picturesque village of Bajau Laut people, better known in the West as “Sea Gypsies”. They used to be nomads, wandering from place to place all other the seas in South East Asia, but nowadays in most cases they are settled down. But even now they always live very close to the sea.

My coming there caused a lot of excitement, as there are no tourist coming here ever. Actually, people were very surprised to hear I am on a tour here, as the only Westerners who ever pay them a visit are some researchers (in beginning everyone suspected I am a one).

If someone can tell me how the hell it is possible (I mean the shades) I would be grateful. I noticed it only after checking my pictures on the computer, before I saw those shades, but just thought about how they would look in the picture.

It was not so easy to take pictures here, as all the time I was followed by a crowd of some 50 curious and excited children, who really wanted to be in every picture I was taking. The only solution was to walk very fast, and take photos before they managed to flood into the frame. But it’s not very effective way of taking pictures, so I decided to come next day in the morning, when the kids would be at school.

Well, it turned out that only maybe 30% or less of the children attend school, so the situation was not much different. I tried another trick used by photographers in such cases – to sit in one place, and wait for the interest to wane. It didn’t work neither. I waited and waited, and finally became bored myself. During this time the crowd had just increased, and as soon as I started my walk again, they followed me.

I tried to take some shots in the school. In class 1 I found some cute scene, when kids were calling out loud numbers pointed by the teacher. But shortly after my arrival, the teacher left somewhere, probably happy that there’s someone to take over taking care of the kids, so I couldn’t take too many shots of the lesson.

The situation repeated in some other classes. If there was any teacher when I came (in some there wasn’t), he/she would immediately leave after my arrival. I stopped wandering why so few kids attend to school here, I would probably also prefer to have my child do something productive instead of wasting time in such school.

One afternoon I came across the funeral. People told me to follow them. At one moment they called for some man, as he could speak some English. Indeed, he asked me what was my name, and where I was from, and then we switched back to Indonesian.

A taste of paradise in remote and completely un-touristic Banngai Islands in Eastern Sulawesi – at least if someone believes the paradise looks like a “Bounty” commercial. Everyday life here is probably quite far from paradise, unless you’ve inherited a fortune and can build some well equipped mansion on one of those islands.
Yet I must admit it’s really nice here, and seems like a perfect place for holidays. Unfortunately the weather is pretty terrible this time of the year, so I didn’t spend too much time here. Will have to come back some other day.

If anyone of you would like to visit this place, here you can find some practical information .

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I got stuck in Kolonodale, the place virtually at the end of the road, for two days. The only way to move forward from here was to take a ferry across the sea bay to town called Kolo, and because of the end of Ramadan, it was impossible. Ok, Kolonodale was not so bad place: quite charming little town by the narrow sea bay, surrounded by steep hills, making it look like a small Norwegian fiord in a tropical version, yet there was not so much to do here, so I was happy when finally I got confirmation that the boat will depart.

I spent my last afternoon visiting neighboring villages, and in evening killing some time in Internet and having a nice dinner of fried fish – the boat was scheduled to leave at 2am, so there was a plenty of time to kill. Around 9:30pm I decided to get some money from ATM, as I have nearly nothing left, and watch some movie in my hotel.
And this is when the shit happened. I went to the only ATM in the town, to find that it doesn’t accept foreign debit cards! Shit! I had 50 thousands rupias left (around 5$), and just for a boat I needed 100.000. And I had almost no gas left… And it was pretty late evening already…
I made quick consideration of available options:
a). Go to Beteleme, nearest town, some 30 km away. 30 km of pretty bad road through the mountains at night (when even during a day driving here is a challenge, due to the road condition). I asked someone, and they told me that there is only ATM of BRI Bank available, the same bank as here. Ok. This option out..
b). Spend the night here, beg the hotel owners for a considerable discount (I didn’t have even enough for the room, and I had no gas left, you remember? Not to mention eating anything the next day). Next day go back to the nearest bigger town and get the money there. Quick look at the map… Oops… The nearest town where I could be sure to find some better ATM was some 300km away… This plan didn’t seem very tempting, as even if I managed to get to the ATM, I would end up in completely different place than I wanted to be. Ok, keep this option as the last resort.
c). Sell something. Hm.. but what? My 9-years old Nokia 6310i? Maybe in Europe I would get some decent money for it, from someone who has some sentiment to this model, but not in this small Indonesian town. Here only the newest and brightest models are of any value, old mobiles are for poor people who cannot afford for anything decent. Some clothes? They are too big even for me, as I’ve lost quite a lot of weight during this trip. Selling camera or laptop I didn’t consider even for a minute, I didn’t feel so desperate yet.
There was only one tiny chance to continue the trip to my chosen destination (what is it you will find in a proper time).
I came back to my hotel. There was staying some family from Surabaya (city in Java), with whom I exchanged some cordialities in the afternoon. Every family member took a photo with me also (this is very common in Indonesia – people come to you and want to take picture together. I have no idea for what purpose, but I always agree – I would feel hypocritical if I didn’t as I also often take pictures here of complete strangers – with the only difference that it’s never a memorial snapshot). When I climbed up to the first floor, there was a father with his son and daughter, watching TV. They seemed to be very pleased seeing me, and the man started the conversation. I told him about my problem. He said he’s sorry, and suddenly became completely immersed in watching a competition of two women over a washing machine in some stupid reality show.
I gave him a few minutes, but he was still watching with the same intensity, this time a commercial break. So I decided to launch a more direct attack. I sat closer to him, and told:
- Excuse me. I was wondering, would you be maybe able to lend me some money? 200.000 would be perfect, but even 150.000 would be great. I will send it back to you through bank transfer as soon as I manage to get money from ATM in Luwuk.
We talked a little bit about the details, and he told me to wait a moment, and left to his room with his kids. When I already started to suspect it was just a tactic not to say no directly, he came back. He told me that he’s sorry, but he doesn’t have so much money, and gave me some lengthy and complicated explanation. I didn’t understand too much of it, as my Indonesian, after not even a month of learning, was not good enough. But when I already lost a hope, he took out 100.000 and told that it’s as much as he can give me. And insisted that I don’t need to send it back, it was a friend’s gift.
Ok. So situation seemed much brighter now. I had 150.000 rupias. 100 for a boat, and 50 thousands for gas, food and unexpected expenses during 200 km long ride to Luwuk, regional capital, where surely I would be able to find a working ATM. Should work. Somehow at least.

I thanked my savior, took my bag and went to check the situation on the boat. When I reserved my berth in the early afternoon it was already quite crowded there, some people seemed to be ready to wait there 12 hours for the departure, but what I saw now was beyond my wildest imagination. There were people sleeping everywhere. Not only on the berths, but also on each uncovered piece of the floor, even someone was lying on the rolls of ropes. How good I have reserved my place before, I though, trying to get to through the crowd without stepping on anyone.
Around midnight all the activity ceased, and it seemed we are ready to depart. Yet we had to wait until schedule time of 2am. And, that never cease to amaze me in Asia, as it happens very often, we finally started with 45 minutes delay. I really don’t know how they do it as the ship was standing in the port for the whole day!

We arrived in the morning in small town called Baturube, at the outskirts of Morowali Nature Reserve. We were supposed to be here at 6am, and stop just for a short time, enough for people depart here, and continue to Kolo. But it was already 9am, and after letting out people and their motorbikes, they started to unload hundreds of packets of food – noodle soups, chips, sodas etc. It looked as if someone was opening a new shop in the town.
They unloaded, unloaded, unloaded. No break for a moment, and the pile of goods at the pier was accumulating high and large, no matter that there were some people continuously taking out some packets with the push-up trolley.

After one hour of this spectacle, I went to find out how long more it would take.
- Oh mister, at least two hours! There’s still plenty left to unload – I got such reply, together with information, that by land it should take one hour to Kolo, although the road was in bad condition.

The hell! I did already my share of bad roads here, so one more will not harm me, I thought. I’ve managed to touch the ticket guy with my story so much, that not only he gave me back the money for unused part to Kolo (for which he initially opposed strongly), but also got 10.000 extra.

People at the roadside stall with gas (in Indonesia, when there’s no gas station nearby, people sell gas from bottles for inflated price – the more far away from the station, the price is higher) were not too much sympathetic to my condition. They only suggested me to sell my phone, if I need money, maybe counting on some good deal from desperate foreigner, but dropped the idea as soon as they saw my Nokia (“normal phone? e…”).
I had no choice but to buy 2 liters of gas for a rather high price, and later I stopped somewhere to eat some noodle soup. Now I was ready to start the tour to Kolo (I had no idea how long should it take, as everyone was saying something different – answers ranging from 5km to 4 hours by bike).

Ok, road was not very good, but was not much worse than some other roads I took so far. You couldn’t go very fast here, but there shouldn’t be any problem. At least I though so until I arrived to the bottom of some very steep hill, were obviously the road was washed with some heavy rain, and now only deep, ridden over mood remained.

As I had no choice, I started to climb. I’ve managed to negotiate few hundred meters, passing on the way two stuck in the mud cars, when I got stuck too. I couldn’t forward a meter. Shit! I thought. I was in the middle of the slope, no one in sight, and I really needed to move on. I cursed myself for the idea of going overland from Baturube to Kolo.
Fortunately after few minutes from the other side came a bulldozer. I called the guys for help. One of them came to help me to push the bike up. It was the hell of the effort, we had to stop twice on the way for a break, sweating heavily, but finally we’ve managed to get it to the top, from where he assured me the road should be passable. We were dead tired. I resisted the temptation to break his heart with the story of my difficult financial condition, and gave him some tip. He took it with gratefulness. I think I’ve never given more deserved tip in my life, it was not like when you are expected to tip waiter in the restaurant for doing his job for which he’s being paid. I only wished I had some more money with me.

Indeed the road was much better now, although still very far from good. I couldn’t wait to get to Kolo, from where I expected the road to improve.
Well, what a disappointment! After Kolo the road was still as bad as near Baturube. Obviously my definition and locals definition of good road differ – here good means that you can ride, and don’t need to push the bike…
Shortly after Kolo the heavy rain started. Together with some other bikers we hid under some trees. It turned out they were the people from my boat! So much for saving time traveling overland. At least I’ve heard from them that there’s Mandiri ATM in town called Toili, somewhere half way to Luwuk. It gave me some new hope.
The rain started to slow down, so we moved on. But shortly it turned that it was just momentary slow down, and soon I was completely soaked – even my underwear was completely wet. I stopped in some roadside tea-stall, to wait over the worst.
After almost an hour, the rain didn’t show any sign of stopping, so I decided to move on, as it was getting late, and I was not completely sure if there would be ATM in Toili or not. But I really hoped, as otherwise I would need to ride in the dark.

When it stopped to rain, and I was maybe 30km from Toili. I thought that the worst is over. I couldn’t be more wrong. Maybe 10km from Toili there was a longer stretch of good asphalt, were I sped up a little bit, which ended abruptly with a 30cm drop. I got a fall – fortunately not very dangerous, although I scratched my elbows and a knee. Good I was wearing a helmet, as I hit the ground with my head, but it protected me completely.
Now I really hoped there would be ATM in Toili. I didn’t even have money to go to the hospital to have my wounds cleaned, not to mention staying for the night (it was really getting late) or eating anything.

When I finally arrived there, I asked some man for ATM. He showed me the direction to BRI Bank, which I already knew wouldn’t do. I asked for Mandiri, and he told me they closed it a few weeks ago. I almost fainted.
Then he added there’s another one, BNI Bank. With trembling heart, I decided to give it a try. Nervously I pushed the pin code, selected the biggest possible amount (all ATMs in Indonesia have limits) and waited with my breath stopped. Machine made some noises, and finally the money appeared! I almost kissed them…