SULAWESI (PART 2), IN WHICH WE DRINK PALM WINE FROM A BAMBOO SHOOT AND TRAMP THROUGH RICE PADDIES

We saw a lot during our first day in Tana Toraja, but it was just the beginning really. Day two with Yulius involved a trip to the local buffalo market first thing in the morning. We wandered around vendors vending typical market things: vegetables, chilies, eggs, rice in three different colours, toys, pens, purses, soap, etc. There was also the famous Torajan coffee for sale. They would grind the beans in front of you and then seal the plastic bag with a candle flame. (Cool!) We also stopped at a vendor with big, white plastic containers. These were different varieties of palm wine, which we had sampled for the first time the night before, with our traditional meal. We got to try samples poured out into thimble-sized cups. The Torajan palm wine isn't too strong, because it's only harvested from the trees and not distilled at all. (On a side note, I have it reliably from friends that when it is distilled, using dodgy-looking stills on the side of the road, such as they have in Flores, it can be very strong indeed.) We picked the one we liked best and they served it to us... in a bamboo shoot! The length of bamboo was about two feet tall and we all took turns carrying it and drinking from it. (Yes, at 10 in the morning. No judgement please!) We also all took turns clumsily spilling the palm wine on ourselves when the bamboo was almost empty. And not because we were feeling the effects of it, but because it's very awkward to drink out of an almost empty two-foot tall bamboo shoot. It's like when you're trying to finish a glass of something and all the ice falls on your nose.

The buffalo were on display in a small muddy field on the edge of the market. Torajan buffalo are always led by and kept on their nose rings, and they stood about for all to see. (They are kept on the nose rings to strengthen their necks for the buffalo fights at the funerals.) Albino buffaloes are especially prized, as are ones with long tails, for no other reason than the long tail symbolises longevity. And just to be clear, these buffaloes are being sold and bought for funerary purposes only. They don't work in the fields or anything, they're just cared for over the years until it comes their time to aid someone's great auntie into the afterlife. And how much will such a magnificent beast cost you? Conservatively, about 1,500 dollars. And if you're a big spender and need something extra special for the funeral you're attending, you can pay as much as 100,000 dollars. Yes, that is in USD. (At least that's what we heard from Yulius. He spoke very good English, so I don't think he misspoke, but still, it's such an awful lot of money. Our 2012 guidebook lists 80 million rupiah, or about 8,000 dollars, for a top-tier buffalo. But any way you cut it, 1,500 or 8,000 or 100,000 that's a significant chunk of cash.) 

On our way out of the market we also saw pigs for sale, some of them being tied up in the bamboo "frames." Even saw one, en frame, carried away on the back of a motorbike. Still just such a strange sight. We ended up leaving the bamboo palm wine flask/glass by the side of the road (because really, what are you supposed to do with it?) and drove off into the village-dotted hillside in search of adventure... or lunch.

First, we stopped to see some people shelling/shucking rice on the side of the road (not quite sure what word applies when it comes to rice.) A little boy there followed us for a while as we walked along. He was very cute, and there's a great picture of him trailing 6-foot-6 Scott and looking up in wonderment. We also stopped a Torajan burial rock. We were quite a ways from Rantepao by this time, just making our way up steep hills, around rice paddies, and though very small villages. The burial rock sort of came out of nowhere. The huge rock in question had spaces for coffins carved out of the rock - no easy feat, and in fact one that takes years. The hollows with the coffins are covered with small, square wooden doors, and in the case of some of the older or more prestigious graves, there are wooden effigies in the likeness of the deceased within standing vigil from small niches by the grave doors. Beside the huge burial rock was another little graveyard of sorts: this one of coffin-carrying litters.

(There are probably better words in the Torajan language that describe exactly the things we saw, but A: I don't know them, and B: neither do you.) We were informed by Yulius that on the way from a funeral to the burial spot, the coffin bearers will play with the coffin, having fun, goofing off, even rough-housing a bit. This seems like bizarre behaviour from a people who so carefully and devotedly attend to their dead, but the thought goes that it is the last chance for the deceased to have fun with their family.

We ate lunch at a restaurant with good food and a better view out over the sloping hills of rice paddies. After lunch we set out to do some trekking through the rice paddies. We went slowly because the path was narrow and slippery in parts, but overall it was a gentle trek. (Yulius seemed to think I needed help though because I slipped once. Well, that's what happens when it's slippery. He began to tell me where to put my feet and give me a hand down; later he did the same to Matthew. I appreciated the thoughtfulness, but sometimes I don't like being given a hand because it makes me less in control of my own balance.) It was a beautiful trek however, and there was frequent stopping for picture taking. Nicole and I both love the colour of vibrant rice paddies in the sunlight. It's called "rice-paddy-green" which is a very close cousin of "the-underside-of-leaves-when-you're-walking-through-a-deciduous-woods-on-a-sunny-day-green." We ended up meandering through some small villages and our way to the road. There were children around calling out "Bom bom!" which confused me until I figured they meant, "Bon bon!" or "Candy!" It's typical for tourists to give kids candy, and although it's a sweet gesture, I don't know how I feel about it because first of all, it's bad for the kids' teeth, and second, it teaches them to expect candy from every tourist, as if it's their right to be given candy all the time. We didn't have any "bon-bons" so we gave away a couple pens instead.

Yulius explained more about the Torajan culture as we went. He explained about how the dead are kept at home (and asked if we wanted to see a mummy, to which we politely declined) and told us again how rice is kept in the upper stories of the traditional Torajan buildings, accessed by a bamboo ladder with notches for foot holds. Both larger homes and smaller store buildings are passed down through the generations. Eventually we came out onto the main road, walked a while, and were then picked up by our driver again.

When we got back to town, it was decided that Matthew and Scott should experience their first Indonesian massage. The only masseuse in town was a fellow by the name of "Denis." Typically Denis comes to your hotel room to do the massage, but that just seemed creepy (right?) so we opted to go to him instead. They just had room for all four of us, but Nicole had to have her massage on someone's bed, which they had moved over. Midway through the massage she heard a crunching noise and opened an eye to see some kid - probably the usual occupant of the bed - eating a snack and staring down at her. The massage turned out to be a communal experience because they didn't have separate rooms, just an area of the family's living area curtained off. And for some weird reason, Scott got a female masseuse and I was stuck with Denis himself. It was an interesting experience, not quite like what you get in Jakarta, but one we could laugh about afterwards. Poor Matthew and Scott had no idea how it was supposed to work. Scott said he kept looking over at Matthew, who had started a few minutes before him to see what was going to happen next. 

That night we were invited to a pork barbecue to celebrate the national election, which was that very day. Yulius was a very enthusiastic supporter of choice #2 on the ballot, Joko Widowo (better known as Jokowi.) I got a picture of him holding up his left hand with the inked pinky finger that showed he voted, while he holds up a number two with his right hand. Even though I saw many campaign posters for both candidates (Prabowo and Jokowi) I only ever heard people give their verbal support for Jokowi. In Jakarta he was the popular candidate as well. (As it turned out, the election was very close so they had a recount. In the end, Jokowi ended up the victor.) The barbecue was delicious by the way. Fatty pork and palm wine was found in abundance. A great day followed by a great night!