Sulawesi Durian Lokal in Parigi Moutong

We didn’t have any durian friends in Parigi – yet. So we went to the morning market, found the friendliest durian seller, and within an hour were wading up a crystal clear river lined with 100-year-old durian trees on a magical blue-sky morning.

Sometimes you find the most amazing durian experiences when you have no idea what you’re doing.

About Parigi Moutong

Parigi is the small capital city of Parigi-Moutong Regency – a long, skinny province on the east coast of Central Sulawesi. Getting to Parigi City takes about 2 hours driving over the mountains from the nearest airport in Palu.

The city hugs a coast lined with small wooden fishing jukungs and wooden homes of people who probably spend half their waking hours in the water.

Parigi, along with Tolai, is also an epicenter for Sulawesi’s durian industry, with many small durian warehouses (gudangs) collecting and preparing durian for export from Palu City. That’s what put the city on our durian-hunting map.

I somehow expected there to be a lot more durian for sale within the city itself. But on the evening that we arrived, we only found two sellers hawking Durian Lokal (kampung or baan) sold in bundles of 2 durians (check the map below ⬇️ for location).

The durians were a large size, and surprisingly fleshy for Kampung/Lokal (planted from seed). They were sweet, they were buttery, and they were kind of unexciting.

It was an okay start, but I assumed things were about to get much, much better.

Parigi Morning Market

At 7AM we parked our rental car on the northern side of the market and began wandering.

The market was big for a little city like this – stretching an entire 400 meters of dusty, labyrinthine aisles of produce placed on the ground.

It was clear from the market that if Parigi is famous for durians, it should also be famous for bananas.

There were so many bananas, bananas upon bananas upon bananas. We saw Pisang Emas, Pisang Raja, Pisang Kepo (another name for Pisang Sebatu) and Pisang Kapi.

The durians were fewer and further between, a few piles stacked among the assortment of vegetables here and there.

The large to medium durians were being sold in bundles of 3 fruits (a tompok) for 35,000 IDR – the small ones in 3’s for 25,000 IDR.

Richard sniffed through the pile and found one durian with a particularly intriguing aroma. It was attached to two other less exciting durians, so with our first durian purchase of the morning we already had 3 durians.

This was going to be a big durian morning!

As we wandered, we kept getting faked out by Breadnut, which also has a spiky profile and looks a lot like durian spied at a distance.

Artocarpus camansi – Breadnut

Breadnut (Kemanji in the local language) is a relative of both breadfruit and jackfruit and appears to be a staple food in Parigi. Many vendors were selling the immature, spiny fruits among the vegetables.

Unlike breadfruit, which has no seeds, breadnut is basically only seeds. They can be eaten immature – shaved or cut into pieces. If fully ripe, the thin flesh is washed away and the seeds are boiled in salt water like really tasty chestnut-potatoes.

We considered purchasing some papaya flowers, but I wasn’t sure how to cook them. So after securing a bundle of Paku Pakis ferns, we exited the market on the south side with the intention of short-cutting back to the car via the road.

And that’s where we found the durian.

The Parigi Durian Market

Apparently, we had entered the market on the wrong side for durian. This side of the market was loaded, with vendors on all sides of the intersection stretching 100 feet.

Like previously, they were sold in bundles of two or three durians. We selected another bundle of two very large, very exciting-smelling durians for 50,000 IDR and sat down on the curb to have our breakfast. This immediately drew a crowd.

Eating durian on a stranger’s Facebook Live is innately uncomfortable and in my experience kind of mutes the enjoyment of the durian. But we had 5 durians to explore and the market offered both easy access to trash piles and plenty of opportunities to chitchat and learn. So we made ourselves comfortable in the spotlight and set to munching.

Morning Market Lokal Durians

We started with the small durian from the first pile that smelled the most interesting.

This one was sticky and honeyed, like a condensed milk with surprisingly small, pearl-like seeds. It was great. We savored every piece before opening the next best-smelling one.

This was one of the large ones from the second vendor. The flesh was so soft and melting was like trying to eat homemade whip cream with your fingers. I could have used a spoon. There was a very pleasant bitterness, a pleasant level of alcohol, and a delicious vanilla flavor.

It was also very good – and very filling.

The others, as we expected, were basic.

Sweet and very fleshy, kind of creamy and fairly firm – like eating satisfying but unexciting soft sugar cookies. Plenty of flesh to take a big bite but nothing to make you pause, raise your eyebrows and go “wow.”

After understanding these durians, we folded them up and tied them shut to eat later. It had been a surprisingly filling breakfast.

All of Parigi’s Durian Lokal were very fleshy. Most seedling durians have a thin layer of flesh and big seeds, so if we’re hungry for breakfast it’s pretty easy to wallop 5 medium durians between the two of us and be ready for more later on.

But with the three good ones, we were already satisfied and uncertain if we would keep hunting.

As we wiped off our fingers and knife, a woman named Mercedes appeared on a motorbike laden with fresh durians.

We hustled over to talk with her – where was she coming from just now?

“Parigimpuu” she said. “Is it far?” I asked.

“Jauh,” she said. “It’s far. Maybe an hour.”

Then a man who had been on-looker in the crowd stepped up. “It’s not far,” he said. “I’ll take you.”

Driving to Parigimpuu

The man introduced himself as Mr. Ahlan, the owner of the Economy Hotel not far from the market.

He got in his black Rush and we hopped in our white Terios and off we went in a caravan toward the mountains behind Parigi City. Within 10 minutes, we had lost cell-phone signal and the road had turned to pastel orange dust.

Ahlan stopped a woman walking along the side of the road for directions. She was carrying two durians on her back, and she pointed in the direction she had just come from.

“Does he know where we were going?” Richard asked me. I shrugged.

The tactic of following random strangers we met 5 minutes ago into rural areas has worked well for us in the past, so we kept following Ahlan as he rounded the corner and arrived to what was obviously a durian collection point.

Parigimpuu Durian Collection Point

Several women lounged in the shade of a few small huts along a river, at their feet bamboo carrying poles festooned with durians.

This was one of the Durian Depots where Mercedes had just picked up durians for the Parigi market.

As we got out of the car, a figure appeared from upstream bearing another heavy burden of durians.

He had about 20 durians balanced on the pole, weighing a good 50 kilos on one shoulder.

“The road ends here,” Ahlan told us. All the durians sitting on the ground at the depot had been carried downriver on people’s shoulders. There’s not even a path accessible to a motorbike.

The man placed his pole down and sat down in the shade to rest. He asked who we were.

Ahlan explained that we were tourists asking to see durian trees, and one of the ladies straight away cracked open a durian and held it out to us to try.

When we hesitated, she said it was full of insects on one side, so she couldn’t sell it anyway.

Please try.

It was delicious. The seeds were surrounded by a sticky soft, pearly grey-white marzipan-toffee flesh that had a distinct almond-extract flavor.

Ahlan pointed upstream. Would we like to go up to see a farm? We would need to walk through the river.

Yes please! we chimed.

Heading to upriver to Durian Farms

Ahlan took off his pointy leather shoes and black socks, and leaving them on a rock stepped barefoot into the river. I gathered up the hems of my wide pants and stepped in after, the water reaching almost to my knees.

It was surprisingly cold and crystal clear, a lovely yellow-turquoise color as it tumbled over the granite rocks. The sky was intensely blue, the trees soaring overhead. It felt like we had suddenly entered a hidden dimension of the planet.

The water was surprisingly cool.

I realized that for the man carrying the durians downstream on a pole, this river was a treacherous chore. He would probably love a motorbike road.

But for us the experience was charming in the way of a fairy tale story.

The Upriver Parigi Durian Lokal Farm

Following several bends in the river, we waded to a landing point and climbed a small hill to a house on stilts (pondok) on the ledge.

An elderly woman peered out at us, looking mildly concerned. I’m not sure she had ever encountered foreign white people before – and certainly not at her durian pondok upstream.

Ahlan introduced us. He told us that she had already been staying in this little hut for a month, to protect the durian harvest from thieves and to collect the durians as they fell. When the season ended, she would go back down to her house in the village.

Under the house next to the fireplace was a pile of durians half covered by a metal sheet to protect them from the sun.

Ahlan grabbed pulled one out and asked if we could open it.

The woman seemed to be a person of few words, but she nodded and then looked on curiously as Mr. Hasrat Asib opened it with a large knife.

The durian popped open and

The durian was characteristically thick-fleshed, with small flattish seeds.

Since it was the fasting month, no one else in the party was able to help us. “Eat it all,” Mr. Hasrat instructed, and so obligingly we did.

It wasn’t that hard.

Logs transported on the river

As we finished the durian, a man in rubber boots suddenly appeared in the stream below hauling a log on a leash.

Ahlan told us that he had walked almost 10km from a logging site upstream, and was delivering the log to a collection point downstream.

We said goodbye to the woman in the hut, and followed the man back down the river.

The log slid easily over the small waterfalls. When it got stuck, the man would jerk the leash to release it and allow it to keep moving.

Downstream, he pulled the log onto the banks to dry and went directly to a shady place to rest, wiping his sweaty face on his shirt.

Ahlan said that these logs were from Kayu Siso. Someone had cut it down in their farm, and were planning to replace it with cacao and durian trees.

Where We Stayed: Prima Guesthouse

We stayed our nights at Parigi at the Prima Guesthouse. This is a small family-run hotel with 5 rooms set facing a small garden. It was very quiet and – importantly – very clean. This turned out to be one of the nicest hotels we stayed at during our trip to Central Sulawesi.

The rooms are big and spacious with a high ceiling, the Aircon and wifi worked well, they provided clean drinking water to refill our water bottles, and the family is kind. One night they helped us boil some vegetables from the market in their kitchen. I would highly recommend basing at Prima Guesthouse during your stay in Parigi.

How to Hunt Sulawesi Durian Lokal in Parigi

Mr. Ahlan from the Economy Hotel used to work in the local government tourism department. He is very eager to share the region’s local culture and specialties. If you’d like to arrange a trip upriver to Parigimpuu please contact Ahlan L Daud by WhatsApp. His number is +62 812-2334-3802.