24 hours in a rough-and-tumble Indonesian port town

On the western tip of New Guinea in the Indonesian province of Southwest Papua, Sorong is a hardscrabble frontier town and port for the oil and gas industries — close to the “end of the road” as far as Indonesia is concerned.

Nevertheless, Sorong receives a surprisingly large number of visitors: an estimated 45,000 foreign and domestic people flew from Bali and other parts of Indonesia to Sorong last year — not to see it, but just to pass through.

For Sorong is the gateway to Raja Ampat, a paradisiacal chain of islands and scuba diving mecca with the highest marine biodiversity on the planet.

Online reviews of Sorong are scathing, with visitors describing it as rundown; pedestrian-unfriendly; and lacking attractions, attractive buildings, and law and order. “Sorong is a complete nightmare, with local thugs grabbing your bags and demanding money for porter services,” reads a typical review.

However, I find port towns, especially in Asia, fascinating.

The random smells and aromas of fish guts and gasoline. The tropical sweat on your skin. The peeling paint, the muddy potholes, the energy, bustle and rawness of it all.

In the world of travel, you’d be hard-pressed to find more authentic destinations like Kampot in Cambodia or Point Victoria in Myanmar. So when I booked a trip to Raja Ampat early this year, I flew into Sorong a day earlier to see it for myself.

ARRIVING

“Get out of my way!” I yell at the gang of taxi drivers who form a defensive scrum outside the arrival hall of Sorong’s airport to pounce on every tourist as they arrive. Fortunately, I’ve arranged for a driver to pick me up, who is holding a placard with my name on it. The moment we make eye contact, he whisks me out of there in his car.

After checking into my guesthouse, Bamboo House (millekul.com; $30 per night), a tidy home with bunk beds and a clean communal bathroom, I open the maps app on my phone and searched for “things to do” in Sorong.

The pickings are slim, and concentrated in a waterfront area 3km away.

One attraction, Mina Pier, has seriously bad reviews: “There was no proper toilet and the water wasn’t running,” writes a disgruntled tourist.

“It’s dark at night, and there are no lights. Please be careful. I fell into the sea and broke my arm,” writes another.

So instead, I make tracks to nearby Marina Pier, which I am told by the guesthouse manager has a large waterfront restaurant with harbour views.

The streets of Sorong are quite grotty and dishevelled. Everything looks old and tired and in need of repair. The footpaths are riddled with manholes and chicanes, much as they are in Bali, and run parallel to open sewers. Every storefront is covered in steel grills.

The traffic is quite sparse for an Indonesian city, with antiquated yellow vans, half their curb weight composed of rust, offering the only means of public transport.

But Sorong has a saving grace: its people, who are absolute gems and, with the exception of taxi drivers, are very polite to tourists.

Calls of “Hello sir”, “Hello Mister” or “Hello Bule (white man)” echo from just about everyone I pass. Even the drunks sucking bottles of homebrew or chewing betel nuts, a narcotic nut many Melanesians love, are full of good cheer.

It takes me 45 minutes to reach Marina Pier, the closest thing Sorong has to a tourism hub. It is an interesting little place with rows of baby-blue fishing boats, ships sounding their horns, and men with hangdog features repairing fishing nets on the pier.

After snapping a few pictures, I backtrack to the Marina Star Restaurant, a double-storey wooden building on the waterfront with a beer garden vibe. I plonk myself at a table as the sun begins to set behind the clouds, painting the sky in an array of primary colours.

I order a bottle of water. It’s delivered at room temperature, ie warm. I also order French fries that come with hot sauce and no salt, and a plate of stir-fried black pepper beef that is swimming in a gooey brown gravy.

Marina Star is never going to win a Michelin star, and Sorong is never going to win a tidy town award.

But is it as bad as the online reviews suggest?

In my opinion, it’s not.

Sorong has ATMs, convenience stores, restaurants, and clean hotels — essentially all the facilities tourists need. And the people, with the exception of taxi drivers, who are disrespectful to tourists in most parts of Asia, are absolute gems.

But with all the grog and betel nut chewing, Sorong is probably not a safe place to walk after dark.

Would I ever giback? Well, I don’t have a choice. My boat from Raja Ampat has to dock here when I return.