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     Ujung Pandang, Island of Sulawesi, Republic of Indonesia

Friday, 11^th June 1993

     Departing Surabaya we immediately intercepted Airway W-32, which sliced across Madura Island, then a section of the Java Sea on a northeasterly course to Ujung Pandang.  Block to block it took us an hour and a half to travel the 428 NM (492.2 SM).

     The Surabaya VOR and the Hasanuddin VOR, at Ujung Pandang, made up this supposedly “straight as an arrow” Airway W-32.  Unfortunately the Indonesian DCA apparently neglected to run regular checks on their VOR Airways, as borne out by my Magellan GPS; for by following the VOR radio navigation signals, my 737 was taken 15 NM (17.2 SM) to the left of Airway W-32’s center line.  But what else should I expect flying in Indonesia, as so far I discovered that neither radio navigation nor communication seldom functioned properly...if at all here.

  My Magellan GPS.

     Resembling “Terry and the Pirates,” dear reader, I was strictly on my own.

     Ujung Pandang (formerly known as Makassar) is on the southwest coast of the island of Sulawesi, facing the Makassar Strait.

     When scanning a map of Sulawesi, for me, it always resembled a gigantic spider that’s been stepped on, for its viscera and legs spread out in all directions; it’s the world's eleventh-largest island, covering an area of 67,413 square miles.  Plus having a history of producing iron edged weapons gives the island its name: Sulawesi means "Iron Spikes."

     The trade in spices figured prominently in the history of Sulawesi, which involved frequent struggles between rival native and foreign powers for control of the lucrative trade during the pre-colonial and colonial periods, when spices from the region were at a high demand in the West.

     As for Ujung Pandang (or Makassar), Portuguese traders arrived in the early 1500s, until they were squeezed out by the Dutch East India Trading Company in 1667.

     Regarding the local cuisine; the natives prefer Coto Makassar. It’s a stew made from the mixture of nuts, spices, and selected offal which may include beef brain, tongue and intestine usually eaten with Burasa or Ketupat, a glutinous rice cake.

     If that doesn’t float your boat, you can always send out to the local market for piles of deep-fried insects, barbecued bats or rats. 

     No, dear reader, I’m not kidding.  Jesus, I really needed to find a Taco Bell!

     Sultan Hasanuddin International Airport was 12 miles northeast of the city’s center, and was named after a Gowa Sultan who fought against the Dutch East India Company in the 1660s.  The airport was originally built by the Dutch in 1935, and, even after evolving with many changes, when I got there it still had a single runway (130°/310° magnetic, SE/NW) at 8,202 feet in length with a solitary ILS.

Passengers wandering out to my 737; no safety or security whatsoever.

     Upon landing on Runway Three-One, we had to turn around and backtrack at quite a distance to reach the parking ramp, hence the long block time en route of an hour and a half.

     I’m happy to report we never had to overnight here. 

     Just another Muslim shithole, dear reader, I wasn’t required to experience.

     Instead, we usually spent barely an hour on the ground, taking on fuel and passengers, then launched for our next destination: Manado.

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