Sorong, Papua Barat

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I had a compelling reason to visit Sorong. For as long as I can remember, my parents attended the annual Sorong reunion for Royal Dutch Shell colleagues. When my father was in his late 20s, he worked in Sorong for a couple of years as a crew member on the landing ship, the Kais, which served as a supply ship for the Dutch oil industry. I wanted to visit Sorong while my father is still alive so I could entertain him in his care home with some new stories, hopefully keeping his memory active.

There are no direct flights between Surabaya and Sorong, with a total distance of 2,171 km—roughly the same distance between Amsterdam and Athens. We took a Lion Air flight via Makassar in South-Sulawesi. When flying domestically in Indonesia, about 90 percent of your options are with Lion Air or its subsidiaries. Currently, Lion Air operates 118 aircraft, mostly Boeing 737s. Notoriously, during the 2000s, Lion Air experienced many incidents, some of which were deadly and primarily caused by pilot error. However, in 2016, the airline was removed from the EU blacklist and is now considered safe. Ticket prices are quite affordable, especially given the distance.

Curiously, our plane was painted partially in Boeing's house colors and partially in Lion Air livery. The 737 looked a bit battered, but, jokingly, I considered it safer than the new 737 MAX. Remember Lion Air Flight 610?

Indonesia has many regional dishes, so during our stopover, I had to try sop saudara, a buffalo meat soup. Since we woke up at 3:30 AM to catch the early flight, it was the perfect breakfast. Another famous meat soup is konro, which is a bone soup. I tried konro in Sorong for breakfast a few days later.

In Sorong, we opted for a homestay, primarily because I wanted a local contact to help arrange transport to Klamono, a name my father had suddenly mentioned in his care home. The homestay was located in a lovely residential area that seemed safe, but the owner had installed corrugated iron plates against the mango tree to prevent thieves from climbing and stealing mangoes at night. A mosque and a church were nearby, and during prayer times, both places of worship used speakers to amplify their messages to the believers—the volume was so loud that conversations had to pause.

Krupuk drying in the sun. The girl is the owner's daughter, who showed us the way out of the neighborhood on our first day.

In the early 1960s my father was housed in simple barracks built by the Americans during the world war. It was a very different Sorong.

In Sorong, there is little visible presence of the Free Papua Organization (Indonesian: Organisasi Papua Merdeka, OPM), apart from some graffiti. "Papua Merdeka" literally means "Papua Independent." However, as recently as 2019, government buildings were destroyed in Sorong, resulting in over 31 deaths in the region.

Papua students are calling for a new referendum. When West Papua was transferred to Indonesia in 1963, following an agreement mediated by the United Nations, many Papuans felt it was done against their will. In 1969, Indonesia organized a referendum known as the "Act of Free Choice", which involved a council of around 1,000 selected representatives from various Papuan tribes. However, significant pressures and intimidation marred the process, leading many Papuans to feel betrayed.

To this day, a movement continues to fight for an independent West Papua. The Indonesian state is hitting back hard, using drones in the warfare against the West Papua National Liberation Army. One case, were the Kiwirok bombings in 2021. I have an excellent 700 page book on this topic: P.J. Drooglever, Een daad van vrije keuze. De Papoea´s van westelijk Nieuw-Guinea en de grenzen van het zelfbeschikkingsrecht (Den Haag 2005).

FWP stands for "Front West Papua," which is a political organization advocating for the independence of West Papua from Indonesia.

Tuna jaw

There wasn’t much time on the first day, so we had a deep purple fresh 100% dragon fruit juice and looked for a local restaurant serving fresh fish. A lot of tuna is landed in Sorong, and we came across a restaurant that wasn’t busy, but judging by the plate of the only customer eating there, we decided to go in. It turned out the man was eating a jaw of a tuna fish. We ordered the same, along with another grilled fish. The quality was simply perfect. The head of a fish has the best tasting meat.

A common grilled fish side dish is this spicy tomato sauce. It looks very similar to Malay air assam tamarind.

Ingredients;  3 small shallot (the dark Indian type, not the light Thai type). Peel it and dice it fine, 4 red rawit (birds eye chilli), cut 4 each, 2 red chilli sliced small, 1 semi ripe or green tomato - diced small, a pinch of salt, 1 tsp of sugar, 1 tbsp of fish sauce, 1 ping pong sized tamarind pulp, diluted in 1 cup of water, seeds and pulp removed, juice of 2 jeruk limo. Simply mix all ingredients together.

Of course, Nenik was feeding stray cats with pieces of fish, which led to a cat accidentally scratching her foot. We spent the last hour searching for a shop that sells disinfectant. During our search, we walked past a colorful little restaurant. I’m known for my adventurous palate, but I draw the line at bats. Later, I learned that bats (Paniki in the local language) are consumed as “medicine” for asthma.

Our homestay featured a typical Indonesian bathroom setup. The shower wasn't working, so the water in the white bucket was used for both showering and flushing the toilet. It may be basic, but it functions perfectly.

Pasar Ikan Sorong

Early in the morning, we visited the fish market. Although there were no restaurants, the market was bustling with both fishermen and customers. That evening, we would enjoy grilled fish again, likely purchased at this market just 12 hours earlier.

Streetfood

This lady was baking a mixture of desiccated coconut and palm or coconut sugar in clay holders. We bought some of the baked "cookies," wrapped in banana leaves and still warm. They were simply awesome—sweet and complex.

In the afternoon, we explored Sorong. We got around using tiny Japanese minibuses called Angkot (short for "angkutan kota", city transport). Angkots operate on predetermined routes and are inexpensive, although the buses can be quite battered. A single journey costs about 30 euro cents. Alternatively, you can take a Grab taxi, but the Angkots were more fun.

I thought it would be a good idea to visit the Taman Wisata Mangrove just outside of Sorong, but the walking path into the mangrove was closed. The Grab driver then took us to Taman Wisata Alam Sorong, a nature park, which turned out to be a little underwhelming. While there were some nice orchids growing on the trees, it was unclear how to explore more of the forest. I attempted to walk deeper into the jungle, but Nenik exclaimed, “Don’t go there!”

“Why not?” I asked.

“There’s no path!” she replied.

“Yes, there is; it’s just overgrown,” I countered.

“But there might be snakes!” she warned.

Me: “…..”

Taman Wisata Mangrove Klawalu Sorong

Once upon a time, Taman Wisata Alam Sorong must have been proudly inaugurated by local administrators, but it has now fallen into disrepair. There was little to see, and the paths were not well maintained.

Taman Wisata Alam Sorong

There is a strong Chinese presence in Sorong, but the Vihara Buddha Jayanti was only build in the 1980s. The temple was under renovation so we entered without paying the entrance fee.

View from the Chinese temple.

Tembok Berlin

You wouldn’t expect to find a Berlin Wall in Sorong, yet this is the name of a historical site that has become a symbol of independence from the Dutch. It is an old wall dating back to the Dutch colonial era. Today, the area is filled with grill restaurants in the evenings.

The principle is simple: you select a grill place, pick a fish from the table, and look it in the eye. They will grill the fish for you and serve it with rice and the usual sauces. You’ll need to order the vegetables separately.

Separate order: stir-fried kangkung (water spinach) with garlic.

Papeda

Papeda is a well-known dish found in parts of Sulawesi, the Maluku Islands, and coastal Papua. While it can sometimes be found in restaurants, it's not always available due to the time-consuming preparation involved; you need to pound sago flour with water until a sticky glue-like paste forms. The owner of our homestay kindly prepared a complete papeda meal for us, featuring spicy fish stew and vegetables.

To eat papeda, spoon the kangkung tumis vegetable soup into a bowl, add some of the sago-glue on top, and then pour in the spicy fish stew to taste. The vegetable soup also contained tiny leaves from the edible moringa tree, Moringa oleifera. I had never eaten moringa before; the leaves are particularly nutritious, rich in vitamins A, C, and E.

The oil fields of Klamono

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My father worked in Sorong for two years, so I was familiar with the name. According to his own stories, he also visited smaller villages in the Papua jungle. As a hobby, he carried a small metal box with scalpels and some basic medicine, like aspirin, to help treat sick Papua. He never mentioned any specific names, but in October 2024, I pressed him to recall one. "Klamono," he suddenly said. I looked it up on Google Maps and discovered it was indeed a tiny village located roughly 50 kilometers from Sorong. I saved the name and planned to visit Klamono during my time in Sorong, though I had no idea what to expect.

There are no buses to Klamono. We hired a car and driver for the day for 600.000 IDR. When we arrived in Klamono, it looked like a dusty town in the Wild West. I decided to walk around a bit and soon I heard religious music in the distance. The sound was coming from giant loudspeakers attached to an equally giant church. In the greater district of Klamono there are apparently 3,000 people living, in the village the number is less than a 1,000. Not sure how accurate these numbers are, but the church seemed big for the community.

Some men standing near the church were a bit puzzled by my appearance. But they were extremely friendly, although they hardly spoke English. Posing in front of my iPhone broke the ice. Nenik could explain my presence in Bahasa Indonesia. When I asked my father which language the Papua were speaking in the 1960s, he said: kust-Maleis, which is also known as pasar-Maleis or Bahasa Dagang, dagang meaning “trade”. It was the language spoken in coastal areas and trading cities. The Papua also speak a local language called Kais.

We wandered around a bit and a man simply started walking with us, and when we returned to the car he just got in the passenger seat and we had ourselves a local guide.

The Catholic mission was as integral to Nieuw-Guinea as oil exploitation. Some Catholic priests were trained as scientists, studying and documenting the local languages. It wasn’t always easy; some priests lived remotely for years with little contact with the outside world. Additionally, there were problems unique to the Catholic clergy, as highlighted in this quote from the book “Toean, Toean, Kartu Abis!” by Jan Aartsen. The book (“Sir, Sir, We ran out of map!”) chronicles the adventures of the Dutch sailors working on the landing ship Kais in the 1950s.

“The next port of call, was the seat of the local ruler, while the Dutch bishop wielded the spiritual scepter there. After the greeting, a local church worker stepped on board with an urgent question: “Did you get any bottles from Sorong?”

With a happy face, he accepted the box of glass bottles. He explained that the sacramental wine was delivered in wooden barrels, which often burst due to the local climate conditions. It was then important to quickly transfer the wine from the barrels to bottles or directly to the ‘users.’ The bishop and his closest spiritual workers drank as much of the wine as possible, to prevent waste, as it was a shame to throw it away. When asked whether the church was perhaps breeding alcoholics, the priest replied that it was not that bad, compared to local administrators.”
— “Toean, toean, kartu abis!”, chapter 3

Landing craft Kais

My father was not based in Klamono but in Sorong, serving as a first mate on the landing ship Kais under Captain Piet "Snor" (nicknamed "Moustache" for his large mustache). The Kais was built in 1954 by the Arnhemsche Scheepsbouw Maatschappij N.V. and specifically designed to serve as a supply ship for the oil industry in Dutch Nieuw Guinea. I don’t think the 45-meter vessel could sail all the way to Klamono. My father cannot remember whether he traveled to Klamono by road or via the Klasafet River. The road was barely usable in the late 1950s, so the river seems more likely. The road was primarily used to inspect the pipeline and required regular clearing of the encroaching jungle.

Some of the oil products were used locally to develop the area.

“At an incomprehensibly fast pace they built a village (Sorong) from the ground. The roads were paved with the asphalt-rich oil, brought by the Minjak Tanah from Klamono.”
— “Toean, toean, kartu abis!”, chapter 3

Photo: 1950s.

Typical landing place for the Kais. Photo: 1950s.

This seems to be the Kais sailing up a river, maybe it could reach Klamono.

One day, my father, Kees, was on board one of the mappi, a small motor launch powered by a powerful diesel engine. Without prior warning, Captain Piet Snor handed my father the steering wheel. According to the story, my father didn’t know how to control the mappi, and after some wild manoeuvres, he accidentally hit the Kais, despite having been the third mate on the 136-meter-long oil tanker Omala just before being assigned to the Kais. The complete chapter can be read here: De mannen van de Kais, hoofdstuk 9

“The shock was somewhat dampened by the cork bags protecting the skin of the Kais, but Piet, who had apparently been too flabbergasted to get off his bench, was thrown backwards into the water by the impact.

Kees, as if in a daze, had a brilliant idea and closed the diesel supply tap of the still rushing launch and the boat came to rest. As if in a movie, Kees saw Piet Snor, who looked to him like a walrus in the water because of his fearsome moustache, swimming towards Kais.”
— “Toean, toean, kartu abis!”, chapter 9

Below the river and the quay were the ships of the NNGPM would land, bringing supplies.

Below our local Papaua guide. His right arm was about 10 centimetres shorter than his left arm

Just before World War II, the NNGPM (Nederlandse Nieuw-Guinea Petroleum Maatschappij), a subsidiary of Shell, discovered oil in Klamono, though it was of poor quality. During the war, the land was occupied by the Japanese, and it wasn’t until 1945 that the NNGPM could exploit the oil fields in Klamono. A pipeline was constructed all the way to Sorong in the 1950s.

I hadn’t realized there was still oil production in Klamono in 2024. I expected to visit a small village, find little to see, and then head back to Sorong. Discovering functioning pumpjacks—two in total—was a pleasant surprise, and I was as excited as if I had discovered the oil myself. The Papuan children were also thrilled to guide me, a guest from Belanda, to the pumpjacks, making it a highlight of my journey.

There is some localised oil spillage.

In my excitement at finding oil and the distraction of seven Papuan children, I hadn’t paid attention to which phone was used to take some of the coolest photos. Unfortunately, it was Nenik's Android phone, which has a really bad, cheap potato camera. Some of the photos below are not even sharp.

For reasons I still don’y fully understand, this young fellow was so happy to see me he was holding hands with me and at times he was literally clinging to my leg. All the children looked unfiltered happy grinning ear to ear all the time.

If you leave it to the jungle, it will take over every machine left behind.

Another small church in Klamono. opposite the church, in green, is a masjid, so there is a small Muslim population on Klamono as well. But in general the, mostly Dutch, missionaries have succeeded in converting the Papua’s of Klamono to Catholicism.

One young Papuan thought I needed a cool pair of sunglasses for the photo, and now I look like a member of ZZ Top—minus the long beard. The little shop belonged to the parents of the girl in the yellow T-shirt next to me, who was the only one able to speak some English. We tried to treat all the children to candy, but they all declined. In the end, we bought some water bottles for ourselves.

Above some old pre-1960 oil tanks. Below the current oil facility of Klamono.This is a pumping station. I don’t believe I have the complete overview of West-Papua oil industry. There is a report available for download for 125 USD. The oil refinery is located in Kasim, which is 90 kilometers from the oil terminal in Sorong. According to the report summary the Papua oil field recovered more than half of its total recoverable reserves, with peak production in 2020. Based on economic assumptions, production will continue until the field reaches its economic limit in 2069.

The oil company now based in Klamono is Pertamina, which is state owned by Indonesia. In 1957, Royal Dutch/Shell's assets in Indonesia were nationalised, from which Permina was founded. In 1968 Pertamina was created as merger between Permina and Pertamin.

Lunch in Klamono was definitely not Papuan. The only restaurant was run by a family from Madura, an island off the coast of East Java. A case of transmigration. I had ayam goreng lalapan, which consists of fried chicken and fresh vegetables.

In the afternoon we drove around the district Klamono. Below is Block B, apparently Indonesians are living here who came to West-Papua as transmigrants. The Indonesians call the movement of people between the different parts of Indonesia transmigration. They are often people from Java seeking job opportunities in parts of Indonesia with more space.

I never questioned how dragon fruit is grown, but in Klamono we drove past some dragon fruit cacti. It is the flower of a cactus native to the region of southern Mexico and along the Pacific coasts of Guatemala, Costa Rica, and El Salvador.

On our way back to the main road, a group of Papuan children waved at us. It would have been rude not to stop for a chat and another photo opportunity. They greeted me by kissing the back of my hand and then briefly placing my hand on their foreheads.

After our tour of Klamono, I felt we should give our impromptu guide something, but I had no idea what would be appropriate. In the end, Nenik gave him some money to buy betel nut, which he seemed pleased with.

In Sorong, I had noticed many red splashes on the pavement that I couldn't quite place. It turned out to be the spit of betel nut chewers. You buy the betel nut and betel leaves along with a mustard stick dipped in slaked lime powder, and then chew the combination, spiting out the red saliva.

How it ended for my father.

“Politics had put an end to the future of a Dutch New Guinea and Kees flew via the airport at Yefman with a small local plane to Biak to transfer to a Stratocruiser of the Panam and fly first class to Manila. After a night in a hotel with film star treatment, he continued via Saigon to Singapore. Apparently he was not allowed to go home yet. On the second day he was called by someone from the office in the Singapore hotel.

’How long do you need to pack,’ was the question. ‘Five minutes,’ said Kees. ‘Then you are the man I am looking for,’ came the sound on the other end of the line, ‘you are going to board the tanker Saroena, which will pass through the Strait in three quarters of an hour, but is not allowed to dock because it is sailing in Indonesia’.
’What about a visa?’, mumbled Kees.
’No time.’ And indeed, three quarters of an hour later, Kees boarded a sailing Saroena, from the agency’s little Shell boat, and was probably treated in the ship’s log as a picked-up drowning person.”
— “Toean, toean, kartu abis!”, chapter 9

Driving back to Sorong I noticed the Dutch made pipeline. Somebody told me it is still the original pipe, which was laid in the 1950s but I find it hard to believe. In the 1950s the road was difficult to navigate and inspections were carried out by motorbike and even from a Bell helicopter. In the 1990s the road between Sorong and Klamono was properly asphalted.

Spice Island

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We had plans to visit Raja Ampat from Sorong, but we soon discovered it was a hyped Instagram destination. Instead, we diverted our plans to spend a couple of days in the Maluku Islands, known in the Netherlands as the Molukken. It's hard to grasp the sheer size of the Maluku Islands, we only visited Ambon because the airport is near Ambon City, along with the spice island of Saparua. There are an estimated 1,027 islands in the Maluku, with Ambon being the most developed, yet relatively small. The Dutch conquered Ambon from the Portuguese in 1605.

We had a comfortable yet affordable hotel in the city center of Ambon, a lively city. In 2019, UNESCO officially designated Ambon as a Creative City of Music. We strolled around for a couple of hours, waiting for the night food market to open. During the day, the food market is a bustling street with cars, but in the evening, the road is blocked and dozens of restaurants are set up. Most places serve grilled fish, but you can also find chicken dishes and goat.

At the night market, you select your fish for grilling. A serving of white rice is included, along with two sauces: a regular sambal and a spicy tomato sauce. The spicy sweet and sour tomato sauce, also served in Sorong, pairs perfectly with grilled fish. We also ordered kangkung (water spinach) and sambal peteh. I thought I had tasted the best grilled fish ever in Sorong, only to be convinced again in Ambon that I had discovered the best grilled fish yet. It was truly that good.

Stir-fried kangkung (water spinach) and garlic, chilis and papaya flowers.

Sambal peteh is made by frying cabai merah (long red chilies), cabai rawit (bird's eye chilies), garlic, shallots, and tomatoes. Lime leaves and peteh beans are added for extra flavor. Some recipes also include tempoyak, which is made from fermented durian.

The ferry to Saparua leaves early in the morning, so once again, we didn't have time for nightlife. I had my first and only beer in Indonesia—a giant 620 ml bottle of lukewarm Bintang beer. The bar had live music, but the songs were mostly international classics. It was almost empty, except for a retired Dutchman, originally from Germany, who had just married a much younger woman from Ambon. He approached me and bluntly asked, “Ben je Nederlander?” He guessed correctly. I tried to finish my warm beer and wished I had ordered fresh fruit juice instead. As we left, we high-fived the singer.

I still have to get used to the idea that Indonesians love to pose with about anybody they meet for no particular reason, like a random hotel front desk clerk in our hotel in Ambon. In a way it’s kinda fun, but who is this guy?

Journey to Saparua

To reach Saparua you first have to cross Ambon to reach a small port where the ferry boats to Saparua leave. The Grab taxi ride takes almost an hour, the boat ride takes about the same amount of time.

Upon arriving in Saparua, you immediately sense its rich history. I could almost imagine the sounds of Dutch hemp ropes squeaking under the tension of the wind as the VOC crew gazed at the same emerald green forest when their ship moored at a distance from the coast. In reality, the VOC ships sailed toward the bay, where Fort Duurstede was built in 1691 after Fort Hollandia was destroyed by an earthquake in 1671. The scale of Benteng Duurstede isn’t particularly impressive; initially, only 10 soldiers were housed in the fortress.

On Saparua, there are very few cars, and the minibuses serve as taxis; they can be expensive if you take one without a larger group. The best mode of transport is on the back of a scooter. It’s about 5 kilometers from the port to Saparua village. I soon discovered that my Indonesian eSIM wasn’t working, and just before we boarded the ferry, I noticed that Booking.com didn’t have any listings available. After arriving on Saparua, I found myself basically offline, as the hotel we found didn’t offer Wi-Fi.

Cloves drying on the street.

Our hotel courtyard.

Just across the street from our hotel there was a very decent restaurant. I got myself a bakso soup with a giant filled meatball called beranak. We shared some fried tofu and tempe penyet and Nenik got an ayam geprek, which is smashed chicken. Penyet means squeezed, and refers to the light squeezing of the tempe to release its flavours.

Ayam geprek.

Benteng Duurstede

The fortress (Benteng in Indonesian) was extensively renovated in the 1990s. The original buildings inside the fortress remain as foundations. The outer walls have recently been painted white, and somebody cleaned the few remaining cannons during our visit. The entrance fee is based on a donation, and I contributed a little more than usual on behalf of my Dutch ancestors, even though one family line of mine lived in what is now Germany during the time of the VOC. I had to record my name, and in the comment section, I wrote: “a long and difficult history.”

You cannot travel to Saparua without learning the story of Pattimura. For starters, the airport in Ambon is named Pattimura Airport. His real name was Thomas Matulessy, and in 1817, he led a rebellion against Dutch colonial rule. Matulessy’s forces successfully captured Fort Duurstede, resulting in the deaths of Captain Van der Hellen, his wife, their three youngest children, and a garrison of 19 soldiers. Matulessy has been used as a symbol of both Maluku independence and Indonesian nationalism. He was declared a national hero in 1973 by Sukarno, recognised not by his birth name, but under the title Kapitan Pattimura.

Statue of Thomas Matulessy

In the afternoon, it started to rain, and we sought shelter in the small shop of a Chinese man. I noticed shark fins hanging from the ceiling, and he proudly showcased some of them. They fetch 1.5 million rupiah per kilo, less than 90 euro. The man was the husband of a lady we had met on the ferry, who was active in the church and also a businesswoman—what I would describe in Dutch as a “handige tante.” Earlier, Nenik had mentioned our interest in buying cloves and sago, and before we knew it, the lady claimed she had already purchased a kilo of cloves and two boxes of sago for us. It was hard to back down, even though I had already bought 200 grams of cloves just before. Nenik handed her some money for the cloves and sago. At that point I still assumed we bought sago flower for making papeda.

The next evening, just before we left, the couple appeared at our hotel with two giant boxes filled with sago blocks and a kilo of cloves. I was stunned. How could we carry these boxes all the way to Surabaya? We quickly gave one box to the hotel staff and managed to lug the other box all the way to Surabaya and the village of Durenan.

More sea creatures used for Chinese ‘medicine’.

While we were waiting for the rain to stop, Nenik suddenly followed her nose, disappeared, and returned with a siomay—fish dumplings with vegetables doused in peanut butter sauce. This dish has its origins in China, where it is called shumai. I had eaten it before at a pasar malam in the Netherlands, and I adore the taste.

Warehouse with bags of cloves. I bought 200 gram of cloves.

The humble nasi goreng.

Nolot

The next day was Sunday. We hired two scooter drivers and headed to Nolot, a predominantly Christian village on the other side of the island. Most villagers were at church, and as we walked around, some services were ending. Churchgoers, dressed for Sunday, filled the streets. One church had a complete brass band playing songs, which reminded me of the Dutch 1993 anthropological film by Johan van der Keuken “Bewogen Koper” (Brass unbound), which explains the global distribution of brass music through colonial military brass bands. The scenario was partly written by anthropologist Rob Boonzajer Flaes, connected to my University of Amsterdam.

Drying sago blocks in Nolot. Little did we know we would end up with two large boxes of this stuff just a day later. The sago is baked in sago ovens, which imparts a smoky flavor to the blocks. After baking, the blocks are dried and then ready for consumption. Roy Ellen and D. Kyle Latinis published a study in 2012 titled "Ceramic Sago Ovens and the History of Regional Trading Patterns in Eastern Indonesia and the Papuan Coast."

Two types of ceramic sago oven produced in Keligah, East Seram in 1986.

Distribution of ceramic sago ovens in: (a) island southeast Asia as a whole, (b) Maluku, and (c) Ambon-Lease and West Seram;

In Nolot, Christmas and New Year's wishes are permanently painted on the walls, along with nativity scenes sculpted from concrete. I dubbed Nolot the village where Christmas lasts 365 days a year.

Jesus standing on a globe.

Due to strong low and high tides, the coastline is composed of mangroves.

We made the mistake of relying on an open restaurant for breakfast, but because it was Sunday and Nolot is a really small village, nothing was available. By 12:30 PM, we were quite hungry and decided to drive back to Saparua village. However, just as we were leaving, we passed a lady’s house with a small shop selling rujak buah, also known as rujak manis.

Side note: There are many different rujak recipes in Indonesia; just on Wikipedia, there are more than twenty. For rujak buah, you need a flat cobek, which is how Nenik noticed the shop. I would have driven right past the house without realizing it was a restaurant.

First, you grind some salt and fresh rawit (chili pepper) into a paste. The lady asked me how many rawit I wanted; I requested five, while Nenik and our two scooter drivers opted for just three. Next, you add fried peanuts and continue grinding until you achieve a coarse paste.

The next step is to add palm sugar, and to balance the sweetness, you can also include tamarind paste. However, I didn't see the lady add any tamarind (asem jawa), unless the block of palm sugar was pre-mixed with it. You can also add some trassi (shrimp paste).

Then comes the fruit. Pineapple is very common, and it was also the season for Malay apples (jambu bol). You can basically add any seasonal fruit, and she also had a bowl of pre-cut fruits available.

Mix everything together, and you have the perfect fruit salad.

We spent our last afternoon in Saparua swimming in the sea, fully clothed. Nenik chatted with many children in Bahasa Indonesia, while I managed little more than responding to the question, “Hey Mister! What is your name?” I took the photos below after swimming, but by then, the golden light of the setting sun had faded. It was a magical afternoon, and the children's faces glowed with a copper hue from the sunlight.

We opened the boxes filled with sago blocks to ensure we weren't smuggling drugs, but they contained only sago. Back in the Netherlands, I tried one of the blocks—you're supposed to dip them in coffee or tea, which softens the block, allowing you to eat it like bread. However, it is quite tasteless, and if you didn't grow up eating sago in this form, it really isn't very enjoyable. Nenik gifted some of the sago blocks to a Dutch-Indonesian friend from the Molukken, as they evoke childhood memories for him.

Our last meal in Saparua was a simple nasi goreng and tempeh penyet. Along with pecel, these are among the simplest meals you can find in Indonesia. I could eat this every day!

Benteng Amsterdam

In Ambon, we had four hours to spare before our flight to Surabaya. Having spent my entire adult life in Amsterdam, I couldn’t pass up the opportunity to visit Fort Amsterdam. The blockhouse inside the fortress was built in 1637 by the VOC. Although the fortress was restored in 1991, it has lost much of its historic charm, likely due to the fresh white paint. Next to the fortress is Café Amsterdam, but it appeared completely deserted; I could only find one bar stool.