sulawesi.
udjung pandang, rantepao
flight to sulawesi. a guide from rantepao offers a cheap lift. this time we even see an accident. it was only a matter of time until you see the consequences of the hazardous driving. excellent lunch at a seafood restaurant. lemongrass shrimp soup, fried fish. minister of tourism next to me (what an honor for him). endless serpentines. arrival in toraja country: 90% christians, rest muslims. before the arrival of the dutch missionaries animistic religion with animal sacrifices. now it's christian animistic religion with animal sacrifices.
rantepao, kete kesu
pig and buffalo market. pigs are bond and carried on bamboo sticks. buffaloes are washed and fed. the rest of the market is like a supermarket: toys, cloths, spices, food.
visiting a funeral ceremony. animals are audible from far. traditional houses and stalls for visitors form a square. we bring cigarettes as presents. the ceremony master performs a war dance with much yelling and screaming for me. the ceremony starts. guests bring presents, the master and women in traditional cloths lead them to a special stall were they are offered tea and cake. the sacrifice animals are presented, everything is written down so that in the future the equal can be returned. the financial burden of a funeral is immense. a special albino buffalo costs more than 700 $. the poor people can hardly afford a 'standard' buffalo. this here is clearly upper middle class. loads of animals. some are sacrificed and eaten, some are sold again. meaning of the animals: transport of the deceased to heaven. a choir performs, singing the biography of the deceased. sounds like american indian music. behind the stalls the animals are killed and cooked.
drive to traditional upper class village kete kesu. many horns of buffaloes on the houses symbolizing the wealth of the family. houses are oriented towards north, the origin of the ancestors from vietnam (arrival approx. 2000 bef. chr.). ground floor: animals, 1st floor: living area. rooms for parents, guests, grandparents from back to front. big houses (=female) for living, small houses (=male) for storage. forming a couple. complex paintings and carvings.
hanging graves. 500 years old bones and skulls are lying around. originally in the ground, moved to the walls of the rocks due to price for farm land. later coffins are put into caves and holes in the rock as coffins were robbed.
another funeral with more than 50 stalls with buffalo fighting. the people go totally nuts. my guide drags me away when i want to go closer for some pictures. the fight is rather short. after a few seconds the buffaloes run off with the people chasing behind them. considering the obvious power of these huge animals it's truly safer to stay away. once a while people get hurt at these events.
talk to a guide regarding the situation in tentena and poso, where riots are going on . no public transport available anymore. private expensive transport possible. i wonder how much risk they take to make money. a jungle hike is not worth being robbed or killed. not even for me.
rantepao, lemo
sacrifice day at the funeral. guests arrive again. it's more a happy family gathering than a day of mourning. endless waiting until it's clear which animals are killed. very strange: they care obviously about the animals. lots of caressing and feeding. to be sacrificed seems not to be seen as a bad destiny for them. 20 animals are selected. one after the other their throats are slashed with a machete. the hopeless fight against death takes minutes. i just try to observe without judging. these rituals exist(ed) in every culture anyway. at least here it still has a deep religious meaning beyond pure voyeurism (of the tourists). too much blood? let's be fair, our steak doesn't arrive from heaven either. we just don't see the butcher's work anymore.
rock graves at lemo. statues of the dead are put on balconies in the rock. baby graves. kids are put into the trunk of special trees: white juice symbolizes the mother's milk. eggs are put into the grave so that birds can hatch to guide the soul to heaven. only for pure babies who haven't have teeth or haven't touched the ground yet.
cockfighting in a huge arena with stalls from a former funeral (richest man of toraja was buried, over hundred buffaloes were killed). thousands of people. they are betting huge sums. why do they always complain about their hardship but waste the money here instead of giving it to their families? if this is part of the culture i don't like it. i press to continue. what a nonsense.
stop at an orphanage. kids perform bamboo music and dances. looks a bit like a drill but they seem to enjoy it. the priest provides shelter and education for them. at least here i'm sure the donation is not wasted for gambling.
call hotels in tenetana to check the situation: army moved in to clean the place up, no buses go, the guys from the hotel would not go. usually money makes them move, here it doesn't. which says enough. it doesn't matter if i drop dead tomorrow but i won't be me who causes it intentionally. jungle trip is cancelled. after all it's vacation.
meet derren and lucy from london. they suggest a ferry to flores, a snorkelling trip over komodo to lombok. sounds like an interesting alternative. on the way to the restaurant a girl approaches me. she's talking nonsense but it's clear what she's up to. i just go on 'sorry dear. i'm vegetarian, no meat for me tonight. have to get dinner anyway'. derren is amused, he wants to know about the price. she didn't have a chance to ask how much she has to pay for me.
we try palm wine. i don't recommend it. it tastes like warm vinegar.
rantepao, hike
book ferry to flores. drive to the north pure nature. hike through rice fields and woods. my knee is killing me. in every village the same procedures: barking dogs, sceptical people, the kids yell and run away to hide behind the huts. i smile they smile back. the kids want pictures taken. we meet schoolkids. they follow us down the hills. it's like chasing chicken. every time i want to take pictures they disappear in the bush but they come back because they're curious. lunch time. they don't take crackers from me. so i put it on the ground and back off to give them space. after a while the boys dare to grab it. the girls follow later once they understand that i don't eat them. phase 2: they take the food from my hand. this is like 'who dances with the wolf' except this time it's 'who feeds the kids'. the kids are fed but i haven't eaten. after a while the ice is broken. they even allow me to take pictures. a miracle. now they walk next to me singing and whistling. certainly they laugh about the hiking sticks. when i offer them to one boy he runs away crying. funny. new village. the kids are crying once they see me. so i cry out loud too (they want competition they can have it). which makes them stop crying and the parents laugh. i try to ignore the pain in my leg without success but i continue. arrival at the destination: huge village in the middle of the forest. it looks like a huge playing ground. the kids stare at me. the head of the village comes to greet me. i'm offered an excellent tea. but what exactly are these ants doing in my cup? improving the flavour? take a shower in the river. this is the most impressive open air bathroom i've ever seen. chicken is killed for dinner. it comes out chewy like hell. but i hope my guide has paid an appropriate amount though. chicken is not the regular food here.
can't move my leg anymore, hope it will improve while i walk. 8 am but already hot. today even ascending hurts. balancing on the walls of the rice fields is tricky. my knee is shaking from the pain and it's slippery. stop from time to time to reduce the pain and to get rid of the stars i see in front of me. no way to stop the pain so i bite on my teeth and continue. still a great hike with perfect views: forest, rivers, rice fields. almost as good as the everest trip to gokyo. people stare at me and point at my leg 'oh oh oh'. pity for the tourist. i just smile: 'yes, very kaputt'. bath in the river. paradise. try to cool the wounds. we continue after one hour. now i just dragging myself forward my leg is stiff and can't be bent anymore. i'm limping like an old man. thanks for the torture. i think i'm crazy. i wonder why i like this hike so much if i can't walk a step? very strange. guess i'm already addicted to these kind of trips. the last km of the trip is done at snail speed. 2 minutes after arrival it starts to pour. good timing. no sleep, instead gymnastics.
rantepao
my guide john brought his son. no way to make him smile. no joking or banana pancake helps. ok, smiling is no obligation, it's a free country. bemo ride to rantepao. my neighbour complains about the space i need. is it my fault that i'm taller? i don't even breath out anymore. laundry time - good german houseman.
dinner with derren and lucy, discussing the trip to flores. i'm undermining the cliché of germans: 'you're too funny'. i do apologise honestly: 'my parents didn't do a good job making me a real german. i don't even drink beer!' chat with the rafting guy from scotland. he has a look at the swollen knee: 'severe inflammation of the tendon sheath' something like a tennis elbow. he gets me some medicine and recommends a day rest.
rain pouring through the whole night. i think i forgot my cloths outside - bad german houseman. they will be extra clean tomorrow. postcard writing and knee treatment.
looking for a hotel to do some swimming. ask for directions and end up almost exactly where i wanted to go: at a pig stall. ok, that was close. now the kids see my error and start laughing. which i do, too. which wasn't a good idea: i lose my balance and land almost in the muddy rice field. but my boots look rather dirty. i look like a rice farmer. very embarrassing. at the hotel i ask if i can use the pool, promising to take she boots off before i enter the pool. 'no problem'. i wonder what the answer would have been in germany. i have the huge pool by myself. after a while an employee approaches me and asks if i can play table tennis. without much explanation of the faded fame of my younger years i just say 'sure, a bit'. so i chase him a bit and give him some tips to improve his technique. he asks me to smash. he really wants it. so i smash smoothly for a while. and he runs smoothly to get the ball out of the bush. he doesn't ask for more. but it's good fun. competitor number 2 arrives. same thing. number 3 arrives. these guys must be bored. i wonder how many people work here and how long this tournament will continue. number 3 must be the champion here considering the way he warms up. i'm almost scared. he tries so hard to make a few points. so i let him run. certainly he gets the points he deserves for his hard work. rain stops the match. 'cappuccino?' - 'yes certainly. but the machine is broken'. that's definitely an asian way to say 'no'. it makes as much sense as 'do you want to marry me?' - 'yes!. but i will marry someone else'.
meet michele at the hotel. he asks for a job. he's a nice guy and i haven't seen him gambling. so he gets the job for the next trip.
rafting day. alessandro and anna on their 'honeymoonies'. disastrous streets up to the mountains. we hike down to the river looking funny: helmet, paddle, lifejacket, hiking stick. shoes on, shoes off. more mud. no more shoes off, i'm bored with that. arrival at the river. i sit in front where the action is. a few rapids but nothing really exciting once you're used to the water and the bumps. after a few minutes i wish it would be some rougher river. but it's good fun and a great landscape. 'you can swim here'. so i jump in the current. how come that i' m the only, how come that i'm not really surprised that no one else follows. wimps! strange weather: sunshine at the one end and thunderstorm and lightning at the other end of the sky. at the exit point kids are sitting at the road and watch us. i take a few pictures: tourists in swim-shorts stared at by schoolgirls. this seems to be the movie theatre of the area. very crowded. the show starts every day at 5 pm. today was comedy day.
rantepao, pallawa, bori, londa
start the trip with michelle. no photo weather. we visit an ikat weaving place. too strange that they're doing only simple patterns but sell more complicated ones. nothing special.
continue to the traditional village pallawa. michelle talks about the 4 castes: slaves - wood - iron - gold, arranged weddings, prices for divorces, ridiculous prices to move up the case system (100 buffaloes, 100 pigs, 100 chicken, 100 rupees) - nobody ever made it.
bori with its megalithic sculptures (500 years): a place with a collection of grave stones which can be used for funeral ceremonies. graves in huge rocks. people work at a rock to produce a grave. tough job. 6 months for 4 people, sounds like some buffaloes you have to pay. seems people live just for the death, forgetting about a reasonable life: they buy buffaloes but can't afford to send their kids to school. absurd but that's their traditions.
londa with the cave graves: coffins and bones, rather young, exclusive for the village people.
waiting for the bus at the restaurant. chat with the waitresses and give them a survival german lesson 'guten morgen - guten tag - guten abend - gute nacht'. bus arrives. with all the trouble not to forget my stuff i forget to pay. how embarrassing! thank god i have their business card to send it later. at another stop in rantepao michelle catches up and waves with the bill. big tip for the girls. drive to ujung pandang. nice drive - if you're a tiny asian. my neighbour uses a bit more space than i think is polite. it's interesting to get to know the locals but i don't want to get so close to everybody. i move to another place and nap for a while.
ujung pandang
arrival in ujung pandang 3:30 am. the football game munich - madrid is about to finish and i see the last minutes at the terminal. taxi to the hotel of derren and lucy. people are already in the mosques and pray! allah must be very busy if customers are already awake this early. the streets are unnaturally deserted, the peace before the storm - in a few minutes the chaos starts again. i spend the next 4 hours with reading, diary writing and mosquito killing in the hotel lobby. staff is more than irritated about the hiking sticks (just too confuse people and watch the puzzling faces is reason enough to carry them with me), when i show what they're used for they just shake their heads and laugh. stroll through the ugly city. looks like a bombed beirut. in the evening with lucy and derren to the harbour. what an incredible chaos. it looks like millions of people trying to escape from the country. fascinating masses. we just hold on to our backpacks and push through, thank god somebody shows us the way to the right ferry. we walk around on the ship. 'hello mister...' - have mercy! economy class looks like an indian train station. some people sleep in the aisles, some on deck. the variety of the different ethnic groups is amazing: indian, chinese, polynesian, negroid, aboriginal types. the results of various people movements and encounters seem to be visible. you could spend hours just to watch these faces. derren makes fun of my lonely planet: marked highlights, special little helpers to find relevant chapters and maps, time schedule,...:'very efficient, very analytical, you're very funny but you're still german'. jawohl that's right.
flight to sulawesi. a guide from rantepao offers a cheap lift. this time we even see an accident. it was only a matter of time until you see the consequences of the hazardous driving. excellent lunch at a seafood restaurant. lemongrass shrimp soup, fried fish. minister of tourism next to me (what an honor for him). endless serpentines. arrival in toraja country: 90% christians, rest muslims. before the arrival of the dutch missionaries animistic religion with animal sacrifices. now it's christian animistic religion with animal sacrifices.
rantepao, kete kesu
pig and buffalo market. pigs are bond and carried on bamboo sticks. buffaloes are washed and fed. the rest of the market is like a supermarket: toys, cloths, spices, food.
visiting a funeral ceremony. animals are audible from far. traditional houses and stalls for visitors form a square. we bring cigarettes as presents. the ceremony master performs a war dance with much yelling and screaming for me. the ceremony starts. guests bring presents, the master and women in traditional cloths lead them to a special stall were they are offered tea and cake. the sacrifice animals are presented, everything is written down so that in the future the equal can be returned. the financial burden of a funeral is immense. a special albino buffalo costs more than 700 $. the poor people can hardly afford a 'standard' buffalo. this here is clearly upper middle class. loads of animals. some are sacrificed and eaten, some are sold again. meaning of the animals: transport of the deceased to heaven. a choir performs, singing the biography of the deceased. sounds like american indian music. behind the stalls the animals are killed and cooked.
drive to traditional upper class village kete kesu. many horns of buffaloes on the houses symbolizing the wealth of the family. houses are oriented towards north, the origin of the ancestors from vietnam (arrival approx. 2000 bef. chr.). ground floor: animals, 1st floor: living area. rooms for parents, guests, grandparents from back to front. big houses (=female) for living, small houses (=male) for storage. forming a couple. complex paintings and carvings.
hanging graves. 500 years old bones and skulls are lying around. originally in the ground, moved to the walls of the rocks due to price for farm land. later coffins are put into caves and holes in the rock as coffins were robbed.
another funeral with more than 50 stalls with buffalo fighting. the people go totally nuts. my guide drags me away when i want to go closer for some pictures. the fight is rather short. after a few seconds the buffaloes run off with the people chasing behind them. considering the obvious power of these huge animals it's truly safer to stay away. once a while people get hurt at these events.
talk to a guide regarding the situation in tentena and poso, where riots are going on . no public transport available anymore. private expensive transport possible. i wonder how much risk they take to make money. a jungle hike is not worth being robbed or killed. not even for me.
rantepao, lemo
sacrifice day at the funeral. guests arrive again. it's more a happy family gathering than a day of mourning. endless waiting until it's clear which animals are killed. very strange: they care obviously about the animals. lots of caressing and feeding. to be sacrificed seems not to be seen as a bad destiny for them. 20 animals are selected. one after the other their throats are slashed with a machete. the hopeless fight against death takes minutes. i just try to observe without judging. these rituals exist(ed) in every culture anyway. at least here it still has a deep religious meaning beyond pure voyeurism (of the tourists). too much blood? let's be fair, our steak doesn't arrive from heaven either. we just don't see the butcher's work anymore.
rock graves at lemo. statues of the dead are put on balconies in the rock. baby graves. kids are put into the trunk of special trees: white juice symbolizes the mother's milk. eggs are put into the grave so that birds can hatch to guide the soul to heaven. only for pure babies who haven't have teeth or haven't touched the ground yet.
cockfighting in a huge arena with stalls from a former funeral (richest man of toraja was buried, over hundred buffaloes were killed). thousands of people. they are betting huge sums. why do they always complain about their hardship but waste the money here instead of giving it to their families? if this is part of the culture i don't like it. i press to continue. what a nonsense.
stop at an orphanage. kids perform bamboo music and dances. looks a bit like a drill but they seem to enjoy it. the priest provides shelter and education for them. at least here i'm sure the donation is not wasted for gambling.
call hotels in tenetana to check the situation: army moved in to clean the place up, no buses go, the guys from the hotel would not go. usually money makes them move, here it doesn't. which says enough. it doesn't matter if i drop dead tomorrow but i won't be me who causes it intentionally. jungle trip is cancelled. after all it's vacation.
meet derren and lucy from london. they suggest a ferry to flores, a snorkelling trip over komodo to lombok. sounds like an interesting alternative. on the way to the restaurant a girl approaches me. she's talking nonsense but it's clear what she's up to. i just go on 'sorry dear. i'm vegetarian, no meat for me tonight. have to get dinner anyway'. derren is amused, he wants to know about the price. she didn't have a chance to ask how much she has to pay for me.
we try palm wine. i don't recommend it. it tastes like warm vinegar.
rantepao, hike
book ferry to flores. drive to the north pure nature. hike through rice fields and woods. my knee is killing me. in every village the same procedures: barking dogs, sceptical people, the kids yell and run away to hide behind the huts. i smile they smile back. the kids want pictures taken. we meet schoolkids. they follow us down the hills. it's like chasing chicken. every time i want to take pictures they disappear in the bush but they come back because they're curious. lunch time. they don't take crackers from me. so i put it on the ground and back off to give them space. after a while the boys dare to grab it. the girls follow later once they understand that i don't eat them. phase 2: they take the food from my hand. this is like 'who dances with the wolf' except this time it's 'who feeds the kids'. the kids are fed but i haven't eaten. after a while the ice is broken. they even allow me to take pictures. a miracle. now they walk next to me singing and whistling. certainly they laugh about the hiking sticks. when i offer them to one boy he runs away crying. funny. new village. the kids are crying once they see me. so i cry out loud too (they want competition they can have it). which makes them stop crying and the parents laugh. i try to ignore the pain in my leg without success but i continue. arrival at the destination: huge village in the middle of the forest. it looks like a huge playing ground. the kids stare at me. the head of the village comes to greet me. i'm offered an excellent tea. but what exactly are these ants doing in my cup? improving the flavour? take a shower in the river. this is the most impressive open air bathroom i've ever seen. chicken is killed for dinner. it comes out chewy like hell. but i hope my guide has paid an appropriate amount though. chicken is not the regular food here.
can't move my leg anymore, hope it will improve while i walk. 8 am but already hot. today even ascending hurts. balancing on the walls of the rice fields is tricky. my knee is shaking from the pain and it's slippery. stop from time to time to reduce the pain and to get rid of the stars i see in front of me. no way to stop the pain so i bite on my teeth and continue. still a great hike with perfect views: forest, rivers, rice fields. almost as good as the everest trip to gokyo. people stare at me and point at my leg 'oh oh oh'. pity for the tourist. i just smile: 'yes, very kaputt'. bath in the river. paradise. try to cool the wounds. we continue after one hour. now i just dragging myself forward my leg is stiff and can't be bent anymore. i'm limping like an old man. thanks for the torture. i think i'm crazy. i wonder why i like this hike so much if i can't walk a step? very strange. guess i'm already addicted to these kind of trips. the last km of the trip is done at snail speed. 2 minutes after arrival it starts to pour. good timing. no sleep, instead gymnastics.
rantepao
my guide john brought his son. no way to make him smile. no joking or banana pancake helps. ok, smiling is no obligation, it's a free country. bemo ride to rantepao. my neighbour complains about the space i need. is it my fault that i'm taller? i don't even breath out anymore. laundry time - good german houseman.
dinner with derren and lucy, discussing the trip to flores. i'm undermining the cliché of germans: 'you're too funny'. i do apologise honestly: 'my parents didn't do a good job making me a real german. i don't even drink beer!' chat with the rafting guy from scotland. he has a look at the swollen knee: 'severe inflammation of the tendon sheath' something like a tennis elbow. he gets me some medicine and recommends a day rest.
rain pouring through the whole night. i think i forgot my cloths outside - bad german houseman. they will be extra clean tomorrow. postcard writing and knee treatment.
looking for a hotel to do some swimming. ask for directions and end up almost exactly where i wanted to go: at a pig stall. ok, that was close. now the kids see my error and start laughing. which i do, too. which wasn't a good idea: i lose my balance and land almost in the muddy rice field. but my boots look rather dirty. i look like a rice farmer. very embarrassing. at the hotel i ask if i can use the pool, promising to take she boots off before i enter the pool. 'no problem'. i wonder what the answer would have been in germany. i have the huge pool by myself. after a while an employee approaches me and asks if i can play table tennis. without much explanation of the faded fame of my younger years i just say 'sure, a bit'. so i chase him a bit and give him some tips to improve his technique. he asks me to smash. he really wants it. so i smash smoothly for a while. and he runs smoothly to get the ball out of the bush. he doesn't ask for more. but it's good fun. competitor number 2 arrives. same thing. number 3 arrives. these guys must be bored. i wonder how many people work here and how long this tournament will continue. number 3 must be the champion here considering the way he warms up. i'm almost scared. he tries so hard to make a few points. so i let him run. certainly he gets the points he deserves for his hard work. rain stops the match. 'cappuccino?' - 'yes certainly. but the machine is broken'. that's definitely an asian way to say 'no'. it makes as much sense as 'do you want to marry me?' - 'yes!. but i will marry someone else'.
meet michele at the hotel. he asks for a job. he's a nice guy and i haven't seen him gambling. so he gets the job for the next trip.
rafting day. alessandro and anna on their 'honeymoonies'. disastrous streets up to the mountains. we hike down to the river looking funny: helmet, paddle, lifejacket, hiking stick. shoes on, shoes off. more mud. no more shoes off, i'm bored with that. arrival at the river. i sit in front where the action is. a few rapids but nothing really exciting once you're used to the water and the bumps. after a few minutes i wish it would be some rougher river. but it's good fun and a great landscape. 'you can swim here'. so i jump in the current. how come that i' m the only, how come that i'm not really surprised that no one else follows. wimps! strange weather: sunshine at the one end and thunderstorm and lightning at the other end of the sky. at the exit point kids are sitting at the road and watch us. i take a few pictures: tourists in swim-shorts stared at by schoolgirls. this seems to be the movie theatre of the area. very crowded. the show starts every day at 5 pm. today was comedy day.
rantepao, pallawa, bori, londa
start the trip with michelle. no photo weather. we visit an ikat weaving place. too strange that they're doing only simple patterns but sell more complicated ones. nothing special.
continue to the traditional village pallawa. michelle talks about the 4 castes: slaves - wood - iron - gold, arranged weddings, prices for divorces, ridiculous prices to move up the case system (100 buffaloes, 100 pigs, 100 chicken, 100 rupees) - nobody ever made it.
bori with its megalithic sculptures (500 years): a place with a collection of grave stones which can be used for funeral ceremonies. graves in huge rocks. people work at a rock to produce a grave. tough job. 6 months for 4 people, sounds like some buffaloes you have to pay. seems people live just for the death, forgetting about a reasonable life: they buy buffaloes but can't afford to send their kids to school. absurd but that's their traditions.
londa with the cave graves: coffins and bones, rather young, exclusive for the village people.
waiting for the bus at the restaurant. chat with the waitresses and give them a survival german lesson 'guten morgen - guten tag - guten abend - gute nacht'. bus arrives. with all the trouble not to forget my stuff i forget to pay. how embarrassing! thank god i have their business card to send it later. at another stop in rantepao michelle catches up and waves with the bill. big tip for the girls. drive to ujung pandang. nice drive - if you're a tiny asian. my neighbour uses a bit more space than i think is polite. it's interesting to get to know the locals but i don't want to get so close to everybody. i move to another place and nap for a while.
ujung pandang
arrival in ujung pandang 3:30 am. the football game munich - madrid is about to finish and i see the last minutes at the terminal. taxi to the hotel of derren and lucy. people are already in the mosques and pray! allah must be very busy if customers are already awake this early. the streets are unnaturally deserted, the peace before the storm - in a few minutes the chaos starts again. i spend the next 4 hours with reading, diary writing and mosquito killing in the hotel lobby. staff is more than irritated about the hiking sticks (just too confuse people and watch the puzzling faces is reason enough to carry them with me), when i show what they're used for they just shake their heads and laugh. stroll through the ugly city. looks like a bombed beirut. in the evening with lucy and derren to the harbour. what an incredible chaos. it looks like millions of people trying to escape from the country. fascinating masses. we just hold on to our backpacks and push through, thank god somebody shows us the way to the right ferry. we walk around on the ship. 'hello mister...' - have mercy! economy class looks like an indian train station. some people sleep in the aisles, some on deck. the variety of the different ethnic groups is amazing: indian, chinese, polynesian, negroid, aboriginal types. the results of various people movements and encounters seem to be visible. you could spend hours just to watch these faces. derren makes fun of my lonely planet: marked highlights, special little helpers to find relevant chapters and maps, time schedule,...:'very efficient, very analytical, you're very funny but you're still german'. jawohl that's right.