an entry somewhere else

There are two three-day weekends this month, and I took the first one we had to fly to the south of Sulawesi and meet up with another Fellow in the vast sprawl known as Makassar (or Ujung Pandang). The sojourn highlights are as follows:

Banti Murung: Upon arriving at the Makassar airport, I was picked up by the Fellow and the hired driver. We jump in the cozy Toyota and sit in the air conditioning as we make our way to Banti Murung. Makassar is a city of approximately 1 million with a +/- of 200,000. It is a port city and extremely flat. Banti Murung is the getaway for the thongs who want to get away. The area is a geographic oddity. The flat lands of rice paddies suddenly meets giant skyscrapers of solid rock. They do not resemble mountains and are covered in thick vegetation.

We pull up and are immediately accosted by several young children selling dead butterflies. Every little shop at the entrance has butterflies encased in various containers. There are also beetles and gekkos caught and killed for this purpose. The large amount of dead butterflies explained why I saw only one butterfly while walking through the preserve.

We weren’t really sure what was at the top to the walkway but we went anyway. Climbing up and in along the river on the concrete path, we found more boys selling dead butterflies and two proceeded to “guide� us along the only path we could take. Ingenuity, folks.

We finally arrive at a cave. There is someone renting flashlights for a little jaunt in the cave. We don’t know where it goes and really aren’t interested. We walk down toward the river and try to take pictures. The river has a large skull & crossbones sign. I take the picture and we leave. That was Banti Murung. This is me at the entry to Banti Murung. I’m the little guy at the foot of the monkey:

Later that night: We get ready to go check out the beach for the sunset. The beach is a concrete walkway along the water. The water has a fair amount of floating debris/garbage in it. There are also people swimming in it. We take a walk and go in for a drink at a restaurant right on the water. A small four-piece string band is playing some Spanish/Mexican tinged music. It isn’t bad. We finish our drinks and go out to find some fun. We take another walk down the beach and hear 1,000 “Hello, Mister.� We simply encourage them by responding. Finally, we head to the nightclub at the Quality Inn. We ask a few questions and discover it won’t open for another hour or so. We take a look anyway. With that done we look at the sign and see one of the amenities of this particular place is “Executive Karaoke Rooms.� Why not?

The door is looked over by a security guard. We walk down a corridor and find a small bar and a few guys working behind the desk. We both notice a few women walking upstairs. We ask a few questions. The rooms are full. We ask the price. A guy behind the counter answers. We ask what is the price to have a lady’s company during the karaoke. The older, clean-cut managerial guy looks at us like he doesn’t understand. The younger, peon-like guy smiles and says 30,000 per hour. Only one problem, the rooms are all full. We ask to talk to the girls. They tell us to go upstairs to have a look. I follow the other Fellow. I feel uneasy; I’m not sure why, but I do. We see three girls. We exchange pleasantries and get the cold shoulder. The other Fellow looks at me; I shrug. The rooms are full anyhow. We go and order a 9.45p Pizza Hut meat lovers pizza with sausage stuffed crust. It was delicious with the requisite hot sauce all over it.

Saturday: We were to go into the mountains for a little coolness but decide to spend the day at the country club. First, I go to check out the working situation of the other Fellow. Nice room in the library with A/C. Good selection of materials. So different from my place. A day-pass to the club costs 35,000 rupiah. This includes a free pen or pencil. The place is empty. The semi-clean, 50m is empty. In fact, we were the only people to use the pool while we were there. I get a massive sunburn on my shoulders that still pains me. Go back to the lavish house and rest some more.

Out to dinner. I wanted to go check out an Indian restaurant I read about in Lonely Planet. I would like to tell the authors of that section that just because a restaurant serves goat curry on Fridays does not make it an Indian restaurant. No veg thaali, no naan, no daal. We walk around a bit more looking for a place to eat and arrive at the Quality Inn’s restaurant. We check out the menu and the smile from the waitress hooks us. The meal was decent and we take a little longer than usual to expand our night out. We finish and take the elevator to the third floor to check out the karaoke room again. The are empty rooms tonight. We ask a few mores questions and find out that there is a three hour minimum for the room. That brings us up to 210,000 for just karaoke. We decide to take another look upstairs. Again, I feel a little uneasy; I feel like a farmer at a 4H show looking over the livestock. The ladies give us the cold shoulder again. The other Fellow looks at me; I shrug, and we go home. It’s nearly 9.30p and that’s my usual bedtime on this longitude.