Bengkulu: Finding diamonds in the rough

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.