After a 10 hour journey from Donggala (with a few stop offs on the way) we were deposited at Ue Datu Cottages just outside Tentena. It was dark and relatively cool and, after we bade farewell to our driver, Wowi and his friend, the night security man at Ue Datu interrupted his YouTube viewing for a moment to seek out a few ice cold Bintangs which we drank on the shared veranda outside our little cottage, which we drank watching the frogs hopping around catching flies under the light and listening to their croaking compete with the trill of cicadas. Continue reading
Our two weeks at Donggala came to an end and by that time we were ready to move on and excited about the next few stops we had planned.
There was a little incident on a boat trip while we were in Donggala. One of the German guides was to accompany us on a day trip to two dive sites across the bay. Paul was a tad disappointed it wasn’t one of the Indonesian guides because the German tended to get quite cross with him, for example, for failing to provide a running commentary on his air supply. Her mantra was “The dive is my responsibility, I am the guide” and when it’s said over and over again in a German accent it can get a bit tedious to a fairly experienced diver (particularly as he seemed to be unfairly singled out for this sort of treatment – he is neither reckless nor irresponsible). And anyone that knows the Wooky will know he doesn’t take too kindly to being told what to do by anyone. Ever. Me, I was tolerating a lot of hectoring, given my novice status, happy to accept any advice thrown in my general direction.
We jointly (and severally) made some rookie mistakes when packing what we now deem to be useless items or simply too much. We also harboured what we now realise to be pretty unrealistic ambitions as to what our current capabilities are. Not to put too fine a point on it we have had a reality check.
Our plan was always to spend a couple of weeks at our favourite dive resort in Central Sulawesi (Prince John Dive Resort, Donggala) but it’s popular so we were thrilled they had room for us at a time that fit in with our, as yet, vague itinerary.
The visas are in the bag (60 days for Indonesia), Dawn has finished work and bade a bittersweet farewell to friends and colleagues amidst a haze of alcohol (twice); the flat has been emptied, cleaned and vacated, and the last long and seemingly endless journey from Melbourne to Adelaide has been endured.