I am going to start my entry with the best line ever about Ujung Padang, delivered by our extremely funny comedian tonight, Steve Stevens. "Nice little town. I think I will wait till they paint it before I return; But if I am ever diagnosed with a terminal illness and am told I only have 6 months to live, I will come here - because it will seem longer" .
Barry and I had been here on 20 years ago, on our flight hopping from the interior of Sulawesi, enroute to Bali. All we did was buy me some jewellery, and catch our flight. We also remembered the extreme heat and humidity and the preponderance of 3 wheeled bicycle driven taxis. Not much has changed here. This is not a tourist destination, nor should it be one. Foreigners who come here are here for business, usually related to mining of the rich natural resources they have in Sulawesi - which is why we had been here originally. The heat and humidity were the same, but maybe even less than we remember.
The four of us, Jonathan, Karen, and Barry and I found a taxi, intending to go straight to a market, as we thought that would be the only entertainment. After much negotiating we landed on a price. After 10 minutes of what seemed like lots of back and forth on streets running parallel and close to the pier we got to the street we had been told was where we would find the market. All we saw were gold shops. Our driver didn't speak English and we couldn't make him understand what we needed. I spotted a decent hotel, and suggested he pull over. Karen and I ran inside, and learned that there was an indoor mall less than 2 km away. Back to the street. Our driver wanted a huge amount of money and as we were haggling with him, the concierge came out and told us that he had spoken to his manager, and he would take us, for $6/hour and stay with us all day. My word - what a break. So we gave our driver $20 (can you imagine), and dismissed him. Dadi, was the most amazing person. He stayed right with Karen and me for the next 2 hours, carrying bags, exchanging money, negotiating price, and just generally being patient and excellent company for 2 women.
Most of the stalls were filled with clothing meant for Muslim women, and there wasn't much of interest there. Upstairs we nearly passed out when we went into a large department store with a shoe department the size of Macy's with absolutely gorgeous shoes. Obviously Muslim women can decorate their feet. And they were cheap! The men had cruised around and were discussing which new cameras they were going to buy in Hong Kong, over coffee in Starbucks.
By noon we had had enough, and we headed back to the ship. The most poignant scene of the day was 3 naked little boys, whose house consisted of a tar paper shack on the edge of the water, who were swimming in 3 or 4 feet of floating garbage in front of their home. When I asked, Dadi told us they weren't in school, because they couldn't afford to pay the fees, and that their parents probably chose that they retrieve recyclables to pay for food. All of us felt terribly saddened to realize that these children would have no future, because they would remain uneducated. At this point in their young lives, they seemed oblivious of their own personal tragedy, as they jumped and swam in the refuse.
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