Bengkulu: Finding diamonds in the rough

Hera Diani, The Jakarta Post, Bengkulu

I was set to explore all that Bengkulu had to offer when Sudiyono, my rental car driver, asked my permission to turn on the tape.

As the trip was my first visit to the remote Sumatran province, plus I was traveling solo, I realized that my safety was pretty much in Sudiyono's hands. So, it was a case of anything to keep him happy.

Little did I know that the tape was by the notoriously obscene American rap group 2 Live Crew, but it did not look like Sudiyono understood or took offense at the lyrics.

The comical scene eased my earlier irritation with my slightly built driver, and the receptionists at my hotel in the province's capital, also named Bengkulu, all of whom had no idea where Kerinci-Seblat National Park was located.

That was despite the fact that we could find it on the glossy brochure the hotel provided, complete with a map, its distance from the capital and its description as a home to rare wildlife.

After a five-hour drive to the north, we came across the supposed location. A narrow trail began where the road ended, but there was no trace of the park.

The rather indifferent employee of the Ministry of Forestry's office then told us we needed to obtain a permit from the main office in the city, which would mean another five-hour drive back.

Forget it.

During my five days in Bengkulu, I discovered why the province is rarely mentioned on travel pages, the reason I went there in the first place.

The smallest and least populated province on the island, it lacks the public relations skill, or even the basic will, to make the most of its stunning natural resources.

That is notwithstanding its considerable historical appeal, as one of the few former English colonies in Southeast Asia (the English had sought it out as an alternative for pepper to Banten), and natural charms to rival those found on other parts of the island.

With only about 1.6 million people living in an area of about 19,788 square kilometers, it encompasses a 433-kilometer-long stretch of unspoiled sandy coastline with casuarina trees.

Its pristine jungles are home to tigers, elephants and rhinos, along with the exotic Rafflesia Arnoldy and wild orchids.

Yet, Bengkulu is still a could-have-been when it comes to tourism, holding magnificent potential but weighed down by infrastructure that is, at best, poor.

Try looking for a restaurant, stall or street vendor selling traditional goods, and it will be almost a mission impossible.

"Bengkulu people lack entrepreneurship, unlike West Sumatrans like myself. Maybe it's because the land is vast and fertile," said Sari Bulan, producer of the traditional Bengkulu textile kain besurek, who moved to the province over 15 years ago from his neighboring homeland.

Sudiyono, who turned out to be more cerebral than his choice of music would indicate, said Bengkulu's main shortcoming was its lack of one outstanding tourism attraction to hook travelers.

"Does this mean Bengkulu can be promoted?" he asked hesitatingly when he knew I was from a newspaper.

While also promising myself to send him some decent tapes when I got back to Jakarta, I assured him that his birthplace was worth mentioning -- and visiting -- because it is an outstandingly beautiful place.

We set out again to the east, driving along land where rows of traditional stilt houses neatly stood in line.

About 85 kilometers northeast of Bengkulu's capital, we encountered Curup, a cool hill town and the main producer of local agricultural products. We were met by the pungent aroma of coffee, with people drying out the beans in their front yards or on the street.

The nearby popular hot spring Suban Air Panas, formerly a religious site, turned out to be a bit of a mess, so we continued the ride to the north, passing the lovely mountain lake Danau Tes, and up to Muara Aman, the center of the gold mining industry during the colonial period, before returning to the capital.

The next day, we drove along the coastline to the west, passing bamboo houses with sago palm roofs. Herds of cows showed the coastal area's reputation as a cattle producer, as well as a center for palm oil production.

Standing amid cows grazing with the blue ocean in the background, the yellowish coconut trees and deep green oil palm trees all proved very, very meditative (nobody say Jakarta now).

We stopped at Lais, an amazing place with a white sandy beach and reddish rocks and cliffs. After dropping in at the Seblat elephant training center in Seblat, some 100 kilometers from the capital, we drove back to the city.

The last two days were spent in the capital, a clean, small town which is quite lovely, with many old colonial houses remaining. I recommend a visit to Fort Marlborough and the house of the first president Sukarno, now a museum to his exile in the province during the 1930s, the Old Chinese Quarter near the fort, and Pantai Wisata Sungai Suci -- a serene beach with casuarina trees instead of coconut trees.

Casuarina trees are also the attraction at Pantai Gading Cempaka Beach, some three kilometers of the center of the city, which used to be called the long beach due to its eight-kilometer-long coastline.

I stayed there for hours, walking along the pure white sand or sitting, watching people playing soccer.

At dusk, I saw one of the most beautiful sunsets I have ever seen in my life. As the gigantic yellow ball slowly rolled into the ocean, the color changed from pale yellow to a deep orange splashing the water, the sand and the sky -- it was simply breathtaking.

I have changed my mind. Maybe Bengkulu should just stay this way -- pristine, gorgeous but abandoned -- rather than becoming shoddily commercialized, the bane of so many of our tourist sites. For it's that forsaken quality that is all part of the attraction of discovering the province's secrets.