- Why was I not woken up, I asked the girl in the reception.
- The telephone does not work.
- You could have sent someone to knock on my door, couldn't
you! To which there was no reply. And to my question where breakfast was served
she pointed vaguely to somewhere behind me.
It was the same large empty space where the evening before I
had had a beer—warm, or diluted with ice, and large bottles only—and had
observed a group of rather sullen looking local young men sipping their drinks.
They could best be described with the German word Halbstarke, which freely translated means "partially-strong",
the English term yobbo denotes too much noisy aggressiveness.
That morning the empty bottles had been removed, but the
ashtrays were still full. They were the triangular type, pressed from a thin
sheet of metal and originally coloured a metallic pink or blue. Heavy use and a
lot of banging around had removed most of the colour, however.
I cleared the table and got my nasi goreng from the breakfast buffet together with a cup of
lukewarm coffee. The fruit, runny overripe papaya, and the watery orange syrup
I passed up. In all fairness, the rice was not half bad, especially after I had
added some salted soya sauce with chillies.
Palu is the capital of the Indonesian province of Central
Sulawesi and the hotel was an effort by the provincial government to support
tourism. Located on the beach it must originally have been attractive. A
swimming pool in the shape of intertwined circles had been empty for quite some
time, and was now used as a garbage dump. By whom? The hotel, or its
neighbours? A fishing community, drenched in poverty, living on the seafront in
sheds that were poorly constructed of driftwood and woven bamboo.
But this, of course, was tens of years ago when most roads
in Palu were still unpaved and electricity was provided 12 hours a day. I had
come to assess the developmental progress of a number of projects to the southeast
of the town, quite some distance actually. And the road was an endless string
of slow kilometres. I was tired and was glad to have reached the hotel that,
from a distance, looked promising. Moreover, the shower worked and the sheets
were worn but looked clean.
After my shower I went out to have dinner. The restaurant I
had been recommended served Padang-style food. It was empty when I arrived and
upon my request was told that today's choice was chicken and grilled fish and steamed
papaya leaves with a light yellow curry. The food, although not really Padang
in taste, was good and I complimented the owner when she came and sat at my
table to ask where I was from and what I was doing in Palu. She even wanted to
know from what part of Holland I was. She was from North Sulawesi, and when I
told her that I had been in Manado the previous month, she answered that she
was from Tomohon, not Manado.
- So how come you are
not serving roasted pork, I asked. I had noticed the little cross hanging from
a chain around her neck.
- There is more demand for halal food, was her explanation.
Could be, but with me the only customer, it looked more like
limited demand whatever the menu.
 |
| Swiss-Belhotel Silae Palu |
Central Sulawesi has been taken up in the developmental
surge of the past decades. Swiss-Belhotel is now the main hospitality provider
in town, and with Swiss know-how they have created a very attractive
place indeed.
