Pare Pare

If you've ever fantasized about wrestling a big, angry fish on open waters-or even if your idea of fishing mostly involves cold beers and exaggerated storytelling-the deep sea fishing charters departing from Parepare's salty enclave of Ujung Baru are your ticket straight to adventure. Imagine yourself at dawn, bleary-eyed and clutching an industrial-strength coffee, aboard an outrageously colorful wooden vessel that looks suspiciously optimistic against the vast Makassar Strait. You're about to cast your hopes (and your bait) into some of Indonesia's richest, fish-filled waters, where marlins, groupers, and yellowfin tuna patiently await your amateur attempts at glory. Book a week or two ahead to snag a prime boat and seasoned captain, who'll gleefully scoff at your first-timer's jitters but secretly root for your triumph. Bring sunscreen, snacks, sturdy shoes, and a sense of humor-and budget around $100-$150 per person to ensure you've got rods sturdy enough to handle Poseidon's occasional temper tantrums. Even if you reel in nothing more edible than ego-bruising seaweed, the smell of salt spray, the salty camaraderie, and the priceless tale of "the one that got away" (naturally growing more magnificent each retelling) will make this escapade worth every rupiah.

If you're brave enough to sacrifice a lazy vacation morning-and your dignity as you squeeze through caves looking like an awkward tourist sausage-you'll find yourself rewarded by the surreal otherworldliness of Tuturiang's limestone cliffs. Jutting dramatically from an emerald jungle like ancient sentinels, these karst formations have been silently observing island life since before humans stumbled upon fire and selfies. Aim for sunrise, when golden light bathes the cliffs in an Instagram-filter glow so flattering even your cranky travel companion might crack a smile. Plan ahead by a day or two, especially if hiring a local guide who's equal parts historian, comedian, and jungle whisperer. Bring plenty of water, sturdy shoes, and a good flashlight-being stuck in a dark cave filled with legends of island spirits can feel unnervingly similar to binging bad reality TV, simultaneously compelling and mildly terrifying. Budget around twenty bucks for a guide, tips, and snacks to bribe your guide into revealing the local gossip. Ultimately, this limestone odyssey is the sort of story you'll be exaggerating for years: "Did I tell you about that time I lost a sandal in the haunted caverns of Tuturiang?" Totally worth it.

Forget chic Airbnbs and plush hotel linens-this is your chance to channel your inner pirate and snooze meters above murky mangrove waters in a Bugis stilt house. The Bugis, famed across the Malay Archipelago for being fearless seafarers and savvy traders (and occasionally pegged by the Dutch as pirates-though they prefer "enterprising entrepreneurs"), built these iconic elevated homes to dodge flooding and runaway wildlife, effectively pioneering disaster avoidance long before FEMA became a thing. Arrive late afternoon, when sunlight lends golden drama to your creaking wooden balcony, and book at least a week or two ahead, since authentic Bugis hospitality moves at a leisurely pace-like negotiations over your breakfast fish soup. Speaking of practicalities, pack bug spray, earplugs (the nocturnal serenade might just include romance-seeking frogs and territorial roosters), and about $30-$50 for a humble but hearty feast of fresh seafood and spicy sambal. Though the mattresses are thin, the showers brisk, and the chance of Wi-Fi slim to none, trust me: Spending a night floating above nature, swapping salty tales with your hosts, and embracing the subtle thrill of imagining pirates (sorry-"entrepreneurs") lurking offshore is a tale you'll savor retelling, long after your mosquito bites fade away.