Uncovering History: The Dutch Colonial Legacy of Fort Rotterdam in Makassar
I’ve always had a thing for old forts. Maybe it’s because I grew up reading adventure stories, or perhaps it’s the tangible connection to the past that draws me in. Whatever the reason, when I found myself with an unexpected week off last month, I decided to finally check Makassar off my travel bucket list – mainly because I’d heard about this centuries-old Dutch fortress sitting right on the coast of South Sulawesi.
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Let me tell you, Fort Rotterdam was worth the journey – though getting there wasn’t exactly the smooth sailing I’d imagined.
First Impressions of Makassar and the Journey to Fort Rotterdam
Landing in Makassar – A Chaotic Welcome
My first thought stepping off the plane at Sultan Hasanuddin International Airport? “Dear god, it’s like walking into a sauna.” I’d checked the weather forecast, sure, but there’s a difference between seeing “32°C with 80% humidity” on your phone and actually feeling it wrap around you like a hot, damp blanket.
The airport itself was surprisingly modern, but the real Makassar experience began the moment I stepped outside. The cacophony of honking horns, the swarm of taxi drivers competing for attention, and the general buzz of Indonesia’s fifth-largest city hit me all at once.
“Fort Rotterdam? Fort Rotterdam?” I kept repeating to a taxi driver who nodded enthusiastically, only to discover twenty minutes into our ride that he was taking me to Fort Somba Opu instead. After an awkward conversation through Google Translate and some wild gesturing, we got back on track. Note to self (and to you): always show pictures, not just names.
The traffic in Makassar deserves a special mention. I’ve navigated Bangkok’s congested streets and braved Hanoi’s motorbike madness, but Makassar has its own flavor of chaos. Motorbikes weave between cars with seemingly centimeters to spare, while pedestrians dart across roads with a confidence I could never muster. My taxi driver seemed completely unfazed, casually chatting on his phone while navigating this daily obstacle course.
Heading to the Fort – Expectations vs. Reality
I’d pictured Fort Rotterdam as standing somewhat isolated, perhaps on a dramatic cliff overlooking the sea (I blame too many pirate movies). The reality? It’s nestled right in the urban fabric of modern Makassar, with the bustling Jalan Penghibur running alongside it and the famous Losari Beach just a stone’s throw away.
“Is that it?” I remember thinking as we approached. From a distance, the fort’s cream-colored walls almost blend into the cityscape, until you get closer and realize just how massive the structure actually is.
My taxi dropped me off across the street, and I stood there for a moment, slightly disoriented and definitely sweating through my shirt. A group of schoolchildren in neat uniforms streamed past me, giggling and pointing at the obvious tourist (me) standing in the blazing midday sun like an idiot. In my defense, I was trying to reconcile the 17th-century Dutch fortress in front of me with the KFC I could see just down the street.
I almost walked right past the main entrance, by the way. I was looking for something grand and imposing, but the actual entry point is relatively understated. A local vendor selling cold drinks from a cart nearby must have recognized my confused wandering and pointed me in the right direction with an amused smile.
“First time in Makassar?” she asked in surprisingly good English.
“That obvious, huh?” I replied, gratefully buying a bottle of water that I would finish in approximately three minutes.
Stepping into History – What Fort Rotterdam Looks Like Today
The entrance fee was a modest 10,000 Indonesian Rupiah (less than a dollar), which immediately made me suspicious. In my experience, attractions this cheap are either disappointing or absolute hidden gems. Fort Rotterdam, I’m happy to report, falls firmly into the latter category.
The Walls and Architecture That Whisper Stories
The first thing that struck me was the unusual shape of the fort. Unlike the square or rectangular fortifications I’ve seen elsewhere, Fort Rotterdam is built in the shape of a sea turtle when viewed from above – something I only discovered later when I saw a map. The locals call it Benteng Penyu, or “Turtle Fort,” and once you know this, you can kind of see it in the layout of the walls.
Those walls, by the way, are impressive – thick, imposing structures of coral and stone that have somehow withstood centuries of tropical weather and historical turmoil. Walking along them, I ran my hand across the surface, feeling the rough texture and wondering about the hands that built them. Were they Dutch engineers? Local workers? Probably both, I guess.
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The fort has five main bastions (those pointed parts of the walls that jut out), each named after Dutch ships: Bone, Bazan, Balo-Balo, Mandarsyah, and Amboina. I learned this from a small, somewhat faded information board that I nearly missed in my wandering.
What really got me was how the architecture feels distinctly European yet somehow adapted to its tropical setting. The buildings inside have high ceilings and wide doorways that allow for airflow – crucial in Makassar’s heat. Some sections have these beautiful covered walkways with arches that provide blessed shade. I found myself lingering in these areas, partly to appreciate the design and partly because I was melting.
“How did the Dutch soldiers cope with this heat?” I wondered aloud, earning a chuckle from a passing guard who probably hears tourists say this twenty times a day.
“They suffered,” he replied with a grin. “Many got sick. Not built for Indonesia.”
The fort isn’t perfectly preserved – some areas show clear signs of restoration, while others bear the honest marks of age. There’s something refreshing about this lack of uniformity, this refusal to be turned into a sanitized tourist attraction. In one courtyard, I noticed a section of wall where the original coral stone was visible beneath crumbling plaster, like a glimpse into the fort’s skeleton.
For photographers (I’m a hopeless amateur but I try), the contrast between the cream-colored walls and the typically blue Makassar sky makes for some gorgeous shots. The best time for photos, I discovered by accident, is late afternoon when the sunlight turns golden and casts dramatic shadows across the courtyards. Unfortunately, I realized this about fifteen minutes before closing time, so my photo opportunities were limited to frantic snapping while a security guard politely but firmly encouraged me toward the exit.
The fort closes at 5 PM, by the way. Don’t be like me – plan accordingly.
Digging Deeper – The Dutch Colonial Past of Fort Rotterdam
A Fortress of Power – The Dutch Arrival
While wandering around taking photos of interesting doorways (a weird habit of mine), I found myself joining an English-speaking tour group led by a local guide named Pak Andi. I hadn’t planned on a guided tour, but it turned out to be the best 50,000 Rupiah I spent in Makassar.
“This fort,” Pak Andi explained, “was not originally Dutch. Before them, it was the palace of the Gowa Kingdom, called Ujung Pandang.”
This was news to me. I’d assumed, like many colonial structures, that the Dutch had simply shown up and built their fort from scratch. But no – in typical colonial fashion, they had appropriated an existing structure, a symbol of local power, and transformed it into their own.
The Dutch East India Company – the VOC (Vereenigde Oostindische Compagnie) – arrived in the early 17th century, drawn by the lucrative spice trade that made this region so valuable. Makassar, with its strategic location and natural harbor, was a prize worth fighting for.
“The Dutch wanted monopoly,” Pak Andi said, his tone matter-of-fact but with an undercurrent I couldn’t quite identify. “Makassar people wanted free trade. This caused problems.”
That’s putting it mildly. The conflict culminated in the Makassar War (1666-1669), after which the defeated Sultan of Gowa was forced to sign the Treaty of Bongaya, giving the Dutch control of the region and the right to build their fortress.
Walking through rooms that once housed VOC officials, I tried to imagine the lives they led – Europeans transplanted to this tropical island, administering their company’s interests from behind these thick walls. Did they miss home? Did they ever truly understand the land they were occupying?
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Conflict and Conquest – Stories of Resistance
As our group moved into a large room that now houses historical exhibits, Pak Andi’s storytelling took on a different energy. He spoke of Sultan Hasanuddin, the ruler of Gowa who resisted Dutch encroachment and earned the nickname “The Rooster of the East” from the Dutch themselves – a reluctant acknowledgment of his fierce resistance.
“The Dutch Admiral Speelman called him this,” Pak Andi said with evident pride. “Even enemies respected him.”
The exhibits included old maps, weapons, and reproductions of historical documents, but it was Pak Andi’s stories that brought them to life. He told us about local resistance that continued long after the official defeat, about small acts of defiance and the preservation of culture behind closed doors.
One story in particular has stuck with me. Pak Andi described how local traders would sometimes sabotage Dutch ships by providing incorrect information about tides and reefs, leading to damaged vessels and disrupted trade. It wasn’t enough to drive the colonizers away, but it was a reminder that occupation was never accepted as permanent or right.
I found myself feeling increasingly uncomfortable as the tour progressed – not because of Pak Andi’s telling, which was balanced and factual, but because of my own position as a Western tourist. Here I was, camera in hand, treating as a vacation spot what had been the headquarters of a painful occupation.
“Do people in Makassar resent the fort still being here?” I asked Pak Andi during a quiet moment.
He considered this for a moment. “We see it differently now. It is part of our history – not just Dutch history, but our history. The stones remember everything – good and bad.”
That perspective has stayed with me. The fort isn’t just a relic of Dutch colonialism; it’s a testament to the complex history of Makassar itself, to resistance as much as occupation, to survival and continuity.
The most sobering exhibit, for me, was a simple reproduction of ledgers showing the profits of the spice trade – the numbers that made all this bloodshed and domination “worthwhile” to the VOC shareholders back in Amsterdam. Nutmeg, cloves, pepper – these common kitchen ingredients were once worth enough to build empires and destroy kingdoms.
Beyond the Walls – Exploring the Fort’s Museum and Surroundings
Treasures in the Museum
After thanking Pak Andi and leaving a tip that he tried to refuse (twice), I made my way to the La Galigo Museum housed within the fort complex. Named after an epic poem from the region, the museum occupies several buildings and contains artifacts from South Sulawesi’s diverse cultures.
I’ll be honest – museum fatigue is real, and by this point in the afternoon, I was feeling it. The combination of heat, information overload, and the emotional weight of the fort’s history had left me a bit drained. But I’m glad I pushed through because the museum holds some genuine treasures.
The maritime collection particularly caught my interest, showcasing traditional boat designs and navigation tools that demonstrate just how sophisticated seafaring was in this region long before European arrival. The Bugis and Makassar people were renowned sailors, trading across the archipelago and beyond.
One display featured a traditional phinisi schooner model, the iconic two-masted sailing vessel still built by hand in South Sulawesi today. I’d seen actual phinisi in the harbor earlier that morning, their distinctive profiles silhouetted against the rising sun. The continuity between past and present was striking.
Not everything in the museum was well-explained in English, which led to some confusion on my part. I spent several minutes puzzling over what appeared to be ceremonial objects before realizing they were traditional wedding gifts. A nearby school group found my confusion hilarious, and one brave teenager practiced her English by explaining the display to me.
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“For wedding,” she said carefully. “Man gives to woman family.”
I thanked her, and she beamed with pride before running back to her giggling friends. Sometimes the best cultural exchanges happen by accident.
The museum also houses a collection of historical manuscripts, including some written in Lontara, the traditional script of the Bugis and Makassar people. I couldn’t read them, obviously, but there was something powerful about seeing this written language that has survived centuries of change.
By the time I finished exploring the museum, the afternoon was waning, and my stomach was making its emptiness known rather insistently. I headed out to find food, but not before taking one last look at the fort’s imposing walls, now golden in the late afternoon light.
Reflections on Fort Rotterdam – What It Means to Me
I found a small warung (local eatery) near the fort and ordered coto Makassar, a rich beef soup that’s a local specialty. As I sat there, watching the everyday life of the city unfold around me, I tried to process everything I’d seen and learned at Fort Rotterdam.
The fort is a contradiction – a beautiful structure born of conflict, a piece of Dutch heritage on Indonesian soil, a reminder of oppression that has been reclaimed as a point of pride. I’m still not entirely sure how to feel about it, and maybe that’s okay. Not all travel experiences need to be neatly categorized and resolved.
What struck me most was how the people of Makassar have incorporated the fort into their contemporary identity. On my way out, I’d noticed local couples taking wedding photos against the historic walls, families enjoying picnics in the courtyards, and students sketching the architecture for art projects. Fort Rotterdam isn’t treated as a somber memorial or cordoned-off relic – it’s a living part of the city.
I wonder if we Westerners sometimes overthink these things. My discomfort with colonial history is valid, but perhaps there’s something to be learned from the pragmatic way many Indonesians seem to view these structures – as chapters in a long story rather than defining moments.
That said, I don’t think this means forgetting or minimizing the realities of colonialism. The exhibits at Fort Rotterdam don’t shy away from this history; they present it straightforwardly, neither sensationalizing nor sanitizing it. There’s a lesson there for how we might approach difficult heritage sites everywhere.
As the evening call to prayer sounded from nearby mosques, I finished my soup and decided to walk along Losari Beach before heading back to my hotel. The fort was visible in the distance, solid and enduring against the darkening sky. Tomorrow, I’d explore more of Makassar – the markets, the harbor, the food (definitely more food) – but I knew that Fort Rotterdam would remain the centerpiece of my visit.
If you find yourself in Makassar, don’t rush through the fort as just another checkbox on your itinerary. Give yourself time to wander, to sit in its courtyards, to absorb the layers of history embedded in its walls. Bring water (seriously, it’s hot), wear comfortable shoes, and if you’re lucky enough to encounter a guide like Pak Andi, listen to their stories.
Fort Rotterdam isn’t just a Dutch colonial relic or an architectural curiosity – it’s a complex monument to power, resistance, and the enduring spirit of Makassar itself. And somehow, against all odds, it’s also a really enjoyable place to spend an afternoon.
Just don’t forget that it closes at 5 PM. Trust me on that one.
About the author: Jack is a passionate content creator with years of experience. Follow for more quality content and insights.
