Rubbish and Jellyfish

Samalona island

On my recent holiday in South Sulawesi I decided to try snorkeling for the first time.  It may seem strange that a 31 year old, well travelled man living in the world’s coral epicenter had never been snorkeling before, but this is down to a phobia I have of being underwater, which probably developed after almost drowning as a child.  I can swim fine, but as soon as my face is submerged I feel panic and always have for as long as I can remember. Being fascinated by nature however I decided it was time to try snorkeling, and who knows in future maybe even diving too.  

I had been told by a friend about a beautiful, tiny island off the coast of Makassar called Samalona that was far enough away from the industrial port city to enjoy unpolluted waters.  I had to charter a boat to get there, which involved a bit of haggling.  I can’t blame the guy for trying, but powering a small motorboat while smoking cigarettes for the 20 minute crossing and back, hanging around on a beach for the 3 hours in between just isn't worth 400k rupiah (about 25 pounds) considering the cost of living here.  You can easily live off that amount for a week.  So I got him down to 250 and boarded his vessel. We embarked from a small and disgustingly polluted beach in Makassar's harbour.  I had to wait on the still docked boat for fifteen minutes while he went to get more gas for it.  Looking around I could see rubbish and decay everywhere, especially in the water when I looked over the edge.  It was as if someone drops their weekly groceries in the water every day, such was the volume of plastic, metal and card, complete with brands and logos. 

World's most beautiful beach?  Makassar harbour

Eventually we set off, arriving a short time later.  Being a popular tourist spot for those living in Makassar, a city similar in size to Glasgow, and for travelers using the city as a hub to see other parts of Sulawesi, I had the not unreasonable expectations that this little island would have one or two pleasant beachside cafes or restaurants where one could enjoy freshly caught seafood in pleasant surroundings.  I couldn't have been more disappointed. There were two places to eat, both in the centre of the island, both in run down shacks with dirty plastic seating.  You could take your food to the beach – the island takes less than a minute to walk from one side to the other, but all that was on offer was bog standard fried rice or instant noodles along with a variety of snacks often found in corner shops.  As for the pleasant surroundings, it seems that a consensus has been reached among the 5 or 6 families who live here that the randomly scattered presence of piles of corrugated iron and discarded gas bottles among other debris doesn't constitute a problem when trying to attract more visitors.  There are signs up asking readers in three different languages to keep the island clean, yet it doesn't seem the residents let alone the tourists understand them.  The people were very polite and friendly, and I really felt for a lovely woman in her fifties who offered me my noodles for free – I insisted on paying – when she scribbled down her e mail address and phone number explaining to me that there are rooms upstairs and wondered if I knew more people who wanted to visit her island.  It’s harsh, but apart from the snorkeling there is absolutely no reason to come here unless you already live in Makassar.  Considering divers have a plethora of destination choices here in Indonesia, most of which also offer a reasonable environment on land as well as a chance to see marine life, how could I possibly suggest to a friend that they spend any time here?

After eating I hired the snorkel equipment.  I really was pathetic. It is no doubt amusing for onlookers used to snorkeling to see an evidently inexperienced, half naked, lanky foreigner struggling to walk on the beach with his flippers on, having put them on too far away from the shoreline, almost falling over with every step, eventually turning around and completing the short journey walking backwards and almost falling over again.  Things went from bad to worse as I had no idea which way round to put the breathing apparatus in my mouth and after figuring it out and finally getting my head underwater the goggles kept slipping off, allowing water into my nose, which immediately brought out my phobia of drowning even though I was obviously in no real danger and only had to pop my head back above the water and adjust the mask.  Eventually I managed a degree of success, keeping my face under for six or seven stints of about 30 seconds each before the water came in again.  I later learned one possible reason for this was that I had a beard which makes it difficult for the apparatus to remain watertight. After only around five minutes of this hopeless flapping around, in which time I was briefly dazzled by an exotic array of brightly coloured cretins, I felt a sharp pain on my arm.  This coincided with the water getting in my mask for about the fifth time, and with the disappointment of the island itself I figured all I had to do now was passively hear ‘Someone Like You’ by Adele to make this a thoroughly unsuccessful day.  I put it down to sunburn I had suffered the day before, hoped it would go away, adjusted my mask and went back under.  Almost immediately I felt another pain, and then another, this time both in my back, thought ‘Fuck this’ and headed back to the comfort of the part beach part building materials dumping ground.  I had red spots on my back and arm where the pains were.  A concerned lady inspected me and said something in Indonesian, most of which I couldn't understand, but I did notice the words “long hair” while she was extending the length between her hands after gesticulating something circular.  With the clues I had to go on, I assumed that meant I had been stung by a jellyfish.  She then explained that it was painful at the time but it would soon be ok and I shouldn't worry.  So I got my things together, hopped back on the boat, with a fat freeloading (not that I minded) breast feeding mother who wanted a cheeky ride back to the mainland and left Samalona behind forever.  I wouldn't recommend it unless you are already living in Makassar and are a clean shaven experienced snorkeler who feels at home on a sun drenched building site.