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Full of Old-World charm, Bau Bau is the capital of Buton Island in Southeast Sulawesi, and the former capital of the sultans who ruled Buton and the nearby islands. The city’s main attractions is the keraton (palace) complex, said to be the largest walled fort in the world. Raised to protect the ruling sultans and their families, the tranquil keraton may well be the most unique in Indonesia.

Built in the 16th century under the supervision of La Sangaji, or Sultan Kaimuddin, the third king of Buton, the fortress is built entirely out of limestone.

It was later improved under Sultan La Elangi, or Dayanu Ikhsanuddin, to protect the kingdom from invasion.

The fortress wall’s range in height from two to five meters and encases over 20 hectares of land.

Upon closer inspection, I discovered that there were no signs that cement was used in the construction of the wall, and was later told that the it’s architect had used albumin glue to bind the stones together.

There are twelve lawa (paths) that lead up to the keraton’s gates, and even though it is a bit of a hike, the spectacular views of the city, the harbor and the blue ocean alone make the effort worthwhile.

Stepping inside the complex, the first significant sights of antiquity I came across were the graves of Sultan Alimuddin III and his descendants, as well as an ancient cave.

According to the information board, the cavern was the 17th-century sanctuary of La Toondu, also known as Arupalaka, as he faced the Kingdom of Gowa in South Sulawesi.

At the entrance gate to the keraton mosque, I was approached by a boy in an elementary school uniform. “If you haven’t paid a visit to Murhum, you haven’t been to Buton,” he said, pointing in the direction of a little hill.

Not wanting to miss anything, I followed his advice. Upon the hill’s peak, under big trees, I came across the tomb of the first king of Buton, Sultan Murhum.

Right next to Murhum’s tomb, I saw a large stone called Wolio, which is believed to be a source of a sacred spring. The water that springs from under it was used to “purify” new kings before coronation.

While resting in a shaded area near the tomb, an old woman approached me with a broom in hand. We smiled to each other before she lit a cigarette and introduced herself as Sia.

“I have lived here since I was a child,” the 65-year-old woman said in a hoarse voice.

She has been working as a caretaker for Murhum’s tomb for more than 15 years without a salary. “I only receive money from the pilgrims. Most of them come here to ask for Murhum’s blessings.”

According to Sia, the palace complex is sacred. “Don’t ever come here with bad intentions or you will get bad luck,” she said.

She then pointed at the old banyan tree on our left and explained that it had mystical qualities.

“It is one of the many miraculous things here. It has four different kinds of leaves. Go pick the fallen leaves and observe them if you don’t believe me,” she said.

She added that the tree was guarded by a spirit in the form of an old man in a flowing, white robe.

Sia left me alone as soon as we heard the call to the midday prayer. I took some pictures before heading to the ancient mosque.

Built out of limestone, the house of worship is unique in that it doesn’t have a dome and is shaped like a regular house. Wooden bale-bale (gazebos) stand on each of its sides.

Once upon a time, the audience hall and the special popaua stone beside the mosque were used to inaugurate new kings.

It is unclear where the stone came from, but I could imagine the procession during which every new king was bathed and blessed at the Wolio and then inaugurated at the popaua, while the nobles and the people of Buton looked on.

The mosque holds an interesting story. For years, I heard about a bottomless well inside it. Apparently, for a long time, people believed that it was the center of the earth.

Many people came to see it, and some of them even jumped into the well for no apparent reason. Because of these incidents, the well has since been covered with cement.

Unfortunately, the mosque was locked the day I visited, so I could not peer into the depths of the mysterious well.

But not everything inside the fortress is ancient.

More than just a historical gem, the keraton is home to many families who seem accustomed to visitors in their neighborhood.

Within the keraton’s walls, visitors will find traditional and modern houses, or the combination of both, as well as motorbikes, TV antennas, cars and even a stationery shop.

Along the way, I saw groups of children flying kites and playing soccer. Most of them were happy that I had brought a camera.

“Take a picture of us, take a picture of us,” shouted three kids as I was snapping photos of the fortress.

My visit came to an end after I took pictures of the last baluarana (firing point) and my camera ran out of power.

I sat under a casuarina tree for a while, still admiring the breathtaking fortress and its surroundings when it started to drizzle.

To the drops and to the soft wind, I entrusted my hope to someday return with a better camera or, at least, some extra batteries.