Ambon

Finangling our way to the Banda Islands Kevin and I managed to get seats on the flight tomorrow. We are very lucky. Their are only about 10 seats on the whole plane, it is 30 years old, has frequent mechanic trouble, and is often either booked or doesn't fly. Hmmm, I THINK we are lucky anyway...

MBA is their name. What a tiny plane company and tiny plane. After this transaction was complete Kevin and I relaxed a bit and caught a shared mini-cab into Ambon to see the provencial capital of Muluku. Ambon is a sprawl of tropical development haphazardly placed around the coast. Bemos and ojeks make a continuous racket, the gutters are basically an open sewer, and it is very hot. I will say though it retains a little charm in the dreamy way people regard you, smile and are eager to help.

That afternoon Kevin and I sought out a traditional Muluku meal of fish soup and papeda, the boiled down sago palm specialty of Muluku. The waitresses smiled and laughed at us in amusement. We are novelties to them here. As they spin and ladle the papeda out it looks like warm glue in consistency plopped down out of place in your soup. And the taste....like gulping down a glob of jellyfish that tries to stick to your throat. The texture is reminiscent of mucus.

Anyways, we tried it and did our best to finish what was ladled into our bowls before politely bidding adieu! After that Kevin and I walked back along the harbor looking for a boat to ferry us back across the peninsula whence we came instead of the bemo back. Inquiring as we went we eventually drew a crowd of onlookers and children trying to help us on our way and communicate. Eventually we gave up on the boat as no-one seemed to know of one. Instead we wandered along the harbor front markets - a mad assembly of people and local goods. Children run behind us as the vendors eye us curiously with optimistic cajoling to buy fish or fruits. "Ini Ikan, Ikan!", they chide. "Good fish here!"

Eventually we caught a bemo back to Michael?s family?s house with my first ever Durian in hand. Durian have a famously strong and unpleasant odor somewhere between rotting fruit and sewage I would have to say. I felt a little embarrassed stinking up the cramped bemo, but everytime someone got on board they would smile in approval of my Durian and say, "Durian bagus" in a conspiratorial nod.

Durian are almost mythically revered and reviled fruits in SouthEast Asia. It is found no where else. Shaped like a sort of spiky medieval weapon, on the inside are long yellow capsules of custardy fruit. The construction of the casing is like a spiky fortified cannonball and very sturdy, I suppose to survive the long drops from the trees. These drops have been known to kill people! The most quixotic quality of the Durian though is it unusual smell and taste...

Later that evening we split it's spiky husk open to reveal it's yellow banana-like clusters of fruit. Eating it the taste was creamy, rich, and custardy sweet, but also garlicky, oniony, even spicy. A bizarre combination of tastes and smells. You either love it or hate it and on my first Durian trial run, I have to say I am in the like it category. I think it is one of those foods that grow on you. After eating this fruit it felt like we had just eaten a heavy garlicky meal, complete with garlicky burps, not fresh fruit!

I cannot even explain this fruit, only that is an amazing experience of the senses. As Wallace said of the Durian, "surely it is the King of the fruits!" I have to agree...