 Bugis house in the rice fields outside Makassar. |
Tana Toraja, that remarkably beautiful series of river valleys in Central Sulawesi, is the tropic’s answer to Bhutan.
It is well worth the 9 hour drive from Makassar (regular flights to Rantepao resume this August). One can do this in a leisurely fashion, as I did — taking in the coastal scenery, the Bugis villages and the cavalcade of local snacks for sale at the roadside — or one can take the luxury night bus and be there in time for down.
I left Makassar at 5.30. a.m. I was rewarded, just out of town, with a dramatic sunrise over the southern mountains.
It is well worth the 9 hour drive from Makassar (regular flights to Rantepao resume this August). One can do this in a leisurely fashion, as I did — taking in the coastal scenery, the Bugis villages and the cavalcade of local snacks for sale at the roadside — or one can take the luxury night bus and be there in time for down.
I left Makassar at 5.30. a.m. I was rewarded, just out of town, with a dramatic sunrise over the southern mountains.
Early morning light bathed the rice padis in an ethereal smokey light.
In Pare-Pare on the coast, I had breakfast at the kitschy Lucky Café and then started the climb to the central tablelands.
In Pare-Pare on the coast, I had breakfast at the kitschy Lucky Café and then started the climb to the central tablelands.
 Star street busker in Pare-Pare, South Sulawesi. |
(see my video: Bugis Road Trip: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vqx-SaIDPvU , for a full report on Pare-Pare)
Just outside Enrekang we stopped at Lina’s Café for a mie kering noodle.
The karaoke café is perched on the banks of the raging Sa’dan river.
In Enrekang we sampled the local cottage cheese, called Danke, which is
served fried and salted with rice. Mie kering noodle & Karaoke |
 Bugis basket-seller on the Makassar – Pare Pare road. |
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 Makale town, Tana Toraja — municipally robust. |
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The Sa’dan river which follows the roads as
one travels up from Makale to Rantepao is the lifeblood of the people
of Toraja, as the Sa’dan irrigates the surrounding fertile ricefields
and provides water for both humans and cattle in this largely
agricultural land.
I wanted to stay in a village in Northern Toraja where most of the attractions are, and had the fortune to stumble on-line onto a “village stay” run by a young Toraja fire-brand lady named Manaek Londe (website: layuklion.web.com).
Tana Toraja is actually a trekkers’ and mountain bikers’ paradise, but I just wanted to pot around in an Innova discovering things.
I wanted to stay in a village in Northern Toraja where most of the attractions are, and had the fortune to stumble on-line onto a “village stay” run by a young Toraja fire-brand lady named Manaek Londe (website: layuklion.web.com).
Tana Toraja is actually a trekkers’ and mountain bikers’ paradise, but I just wanted to pot around in an Innova discovering things.
 Hostess with the mostess Manaek Lande of “Village Stay” homestay near Siguntu, Rantepao, Tana Toraja. |
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 Starboy buffalo-herd at the Rantepao Buffalo market. |
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The chicken curry had banana trunk
vegetables mixed in and the pork had been cooked in bamboo. Big
water-buffalo washing men sat on the veranda platforms entwined. (Same
sex affection is the sign of a civilized society I always say).
The whole scene reminded me of the Lake Toba district of North Sumatra but without all the macho-agro that comes with the tuwak-swilling Batak men-folk. The Torajan men and women are hard-working, surprisingly artistic (like the Balinese) and humble. They have a spring in their step and their zest for life is infectious: I just wanted to wash every dappled water buffalo I saw.
After the Rantepao market we went to the heritage village of Pallawa with its “architectural chorus” (Tim Street-Porter) of Tongkonan houses (see photo opposite page). The Torajan ‘attractions’ don’t disappoint: one always gets a sense of discovering something unique and unspoiled. There are no greedy artshop vendors to break the spell of enchantment: Mass tourism has yet to arrive!
The whole scene reminded me of the Lake Toba district of North Sumatra but without all the macho-agro that comes with the tuwak-swilling Batak men-folk. The Torajan men and women are hard-working, surprisingly artistic (like the Balinese) and humble. They have a spring in their step and their zest for life is infectious: I just wanted to wash every dappled water buffalo I saw.
After the Rantepao market we went to the heritage village of Pallawa with its “architectural chorus” (Tim Street-Porter) of Tongkonan houses (see photo opposite page). The Torajan ‘attractions’ don’t disappoint: one always gets a sense of discovering something unique and unspoiled. There are no greedy artshop vendors to break the spell of enchantment: Mass tourism has yet to arrive!
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Rustic charm decorations on a tongkonan rice loft, Tanah Toraja.
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On the way home we visited Lamo, one of the
royal graveyards for which Tana Toraja is famous. One first enters a
verdant secret valley with backdrops of limestone cliffs. High up into
the cliffs are cave-like tombs for the internment of coffins. Wooden
human effigies in day dress, called Tao-tao, form dress circles of
eternal audience in verandah-like perches also hewn into the cliff.
Night life in a village in the cool mountain air consists of lots of heavy sleep and dogs barking, rather like Bali before the advent of the café cewek and super highways.
Night life in a village in the cool mountain air consists of lots of heavy sleep and dogs barking, rather like Bali before the advent of the café cewek and super highways.
 Megaliths at the royal tombs at Bori, Tana Toraja, Central Sulawesi. |
On Day Two we took in the megaliths at Bori —
many anthropologists believe that the Tana Toraja culture descends
from the megalithic cultures of Palu and Poso valleys to the north, the
roots of whose populations can be traced to Southern Taiwan — and the
village of Perunding where we stumbled across a Toraja wedding. The
village square had become a giant party space and benign drunkards were
hanging out on the platforms below the rice lofts. There was some
exotic line-dancing and loose talking and masses of pork meat.
The Torajans are all devout Christians but, like the Bataks, have managed to keep most of their ancient tribal customs. Unlike the Bataks, they are not great singers, so the roofs stay on the churches at Sunday Service, the girls do, however, wear the same 1950s party frocks to mass, which does look
The Torajans are all devout Christians but, like the Bataks, have managed to keep most of their ancient tribal customs. Unlike the Bataks, they are not great singers, so the roofs stay on the churches at Sunday Service, the girls do, however, wear the same 1950s party frocks to mass, which does look
