Keli Mutu and the villages near Moni

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We took a small plane from Bali to Ende, a city in the center of Flores island. The views of the Indonesian archipelago from the air were stunning: impossibly blue water, countless tiny lush green islands rimmed with perfect white sand. We were the only foreigners on the flight, a fact that would set the tone for the rest of our time in Flores. We chose Flores as a destination mainly because of Keli Mutu, a famous volcano with three crater lakes of different colors, and because it was well off the usual tourist track. This latter reason was confirmed as we descended, landing on a tiny runway with goats grazing beside it. At least fifty people were gathered along the runway to watch the landing, waving excitedly as the plane pulled to a stop. We waited amidst wide-eyed stares in the bathroom-sized "airport" to retrieve our bag, then found a taxi driver to take us to the bus stop so we could head to Moni, the town nearest to Keli Mutu.

At the bus stop, which was more like a parking lot outside of town, we bought "tickets" (actually just handed the driver money) to Moni on the last "bus" of the day, an ancient-looking but colorfully painted minibus. It wasn't set to leave for an hour, but at least twenty people waited inside in the stifling still heat. This was of course, for a reason--the buses in Flores are routinely overfilled way beyond reasonable capacity, and these folks were willing to sit in the heat for an hour just to ensure that they had a seat once the bus got going. But we didn't know this yet, so we waited outside and bought the only food we could find: a bowl of soup with mystery-meat meatballs and some unidentifiable crunchy things floating in it. As we waited someone or something screamed loudly, and we realized that there was an enormous live pig tied down tight to the top of our bus, its face mashed into the luggage rack, half-buried in bags and baskets. Little did I know that our situations during the drive wouldn't be much different, except the pig had the added advantages of being outside in the breeze and being tied down so he didn't get thrown violently from side to side every time we turned a corner. I sat and sipped at my mystery soup and pitied the pig for a while, until a sudden frenzy of activity alerted us that it was time to go. We climbed onto the bus, and found it beyond full. Every seat was taken, and a few people were already sitting in the aisles. Even so, everyone cheerfully squished in and shuffled around to make room for us. I ended up in front next to a young guy and the scalding hot engine, and Jeff shared an impossibly small seat with two little old ladies. And we were off, chugging and churning and lurching down the road towards Moni. Every turn had us grabbing at seats and each other to keep from flying into our neighbors' laps. A cassette tape of reggae music blared at ear-splitting levels, on repeat. One of the old ladies next to Jeff was soon retching into a plastic bag. Barely any air came through the windows, and i felt myself sticking to my clothes and the plastic seat. We passed tiny villages and solitary thatch houses and grazing goats and suicidal chickens darting across the road last minute. Our fellow bus-mates stared at us in unabashed glee, and the kids who caught glimpses of us through the bus windows as we passes screamed and waved and chased the bus. Every so often the bus pulled to an abrupt stop to let on or off new passengers. More often it was on than off, and soon people were hanging out of the doorway and riding on top with the pig and sitting on each others' laps. At one point we stopped for half an hour to wait for a giant mechanical shovel to move an enormous pile of dirt from one side of the road to another. Lines of traffic appeared on either side of the construction site. A few people climbed off of the bus to stretch, but no one seemed annoyed or put off by the delay. Soon we were off again, churning down the bumpy road and dodging wandering livestock. The whole thing was ridiculous, and we loved it.

We made it to Moni after about two and a half hours. It was impossible to tell that it was Moni, or any town at all, since it was just a slightly denser version of the usual huts lining the road. The bus dropped us at the doorstep of our hotel, a place with just two wooden bungalows and a small restaurant. Our bungalow was way too big for what we needed (an extra bed and "sitting area" as well as the bedroom and bathroom) and actually pretty expensive--$11--but we were too tired and hungry to price shop at the town's two other options, so we took a room and sat down in the restaurant for dinner. The hotel owners were friendly, and the food, although of limited variety, was pretty good. We went to bed early, tired from the day of traveling.

The next day I got up early, took a cold shower and washed my laundry in the sink. Jeff woke up and we had a breakfast of banana pancakes and passion fruit juice at the hotel restaurant. Jeff was feeling a little sick, so we spent the morning and early afternoon reading and napping at our hotel. An enormous black cat slept on our porch, and chickens clucked and chattered outside our window. In the early evening we ventured out and walked down the only road through Moni. We passed two other tiny hotels, a few "gas stations" (wooden racks holding whiskey bottles of gasoline), some tiny shops selling snacks and toiletries, and a small open-air market. Then we were through town, with rice paddies stretching away on either side. We walked until we hit a fork in the road, and found a big empty restaurant with a huge hotel under construction beside it. The restaurant was open so we ordered chicken sate and some noodle soup. The sun dropped as we ate, and the waitress brought us candles since there was no electricity. We finished our food by candlelight, then walked back through the quiet town to our hotel and to bed.

The next morning we were woken by a very loud and out of tune rooster crowing outside our window. Whoever said that roosters crow politely at sunrise was, quite frankly, lying. This one started around 3 a.m. and kept crowing all day, with no regard whatsoever for sunrise or any other time of day. We finally dragged ourselves out of bed and had another banana pancake breakfast at the restaurant. We read for a while, then decided to see if we could track down a moped to rent for the day, so we could explore the surrounding small villages. A young local guy with bleached hair and a rainbow sweatband asked what we were looking for, and came back five minutes later with a moped for us to use. It was a semi-automatic, with a foot shifter but no clutch. Jeff did a five-minute practice run down the main road until the lurching was down to a minimum, and we were off, heading out of town armed with cameras and sunblock. We passed through about eight small villages, attracting the attention of every single local who happened to notice us. We stopped periodically to greet and photograph excited kids and intrigued adults, trying out our few words of Indonesian, to their amusement. The landscape was beautiful and green, and the villages were nearly devoid of anything plastic or electronic. We eventually turned around and returned to Moni, waving at the new friends we'd met earlier. We passed through Moni and kept going back the way we'd come by bus, passing more villages and a stunning vista overlooking the wooded cliffs below. We stopped for some fruit at a little roadside market, then found the road heading towards Keli Mutu. Sunset was on its way so we knew we wouldn't make it all the way, but we drove a little ways up the winding road towards the volcano. The landscape here was the best we'd seen, a vast stretch of impossibly green rice paddies reaching up into the hills. Jeff walked a little ways into brush to get a better photo, and came out with his legs covered in some sticky flower things, which took a good ten minutes to remove. The sky had started to turn pink and purple, so we turned and returned to Moni. We found the rainbow sweatband guy playing volleyball near the market, and gave him the keys and equivalent of $6 for the day's use of the moped.

Back at our hotel we found the restaurant emptied of its tables and chairs and full of traditionally dressed Muslim men, sitting in a circle on rugs, eating rice and curries. One of the women at the hotel explained that it was the 100-day anniversary of the death of the hotel owner's wife, and it was a tradition to gather and eat and remember her. The hotel owner invited us to join them in their meal, and we agreed shyly, afraid to disturb a solemn occasion. In fact the men were chatting and smiling, and the man beside us leaned over to explain that this commemoration was a joyful occasion, a memory of her life instead of her death. We shared their food--rice, curried meat of some kind, and some bitter greens--and answered a few of the usual questions: where are you from, how long do you stay in Moni, do you like Flores? We finished our food and left the men sitting and smoking, then arranged for a car up to Keli Mutu at 4:15 the next morning so we could see it at sunrise. We went to bed early, alarms set for 4:00.

At 4:00 we climbed out of bed into the surprisingly chilly early morning air and climbed into the hotel SUV for the one-hour ride up to the entrance to Keli Mutu. We paid our entrance fees to a sleepy gate attendant, then the car parked in a nearly-empty lot. We walked up a winding rocky path towards the volcano, then climbed a long set of stairs to reach the highest viewpoint. The three lakes at Keli Mutu are constantly (but slowly) changing colors due to the mineral deposits. Fairly recently they were red, white and blue, but at the moment they are black, coca-cola brown, and aqua green. From the viewpoint we could see all three lakes, the brown one behind us to the west and the black and green beside each other to the east. The sunrise was stunning, with streaks of brilliant reds and purples appearing behind the eastern lakes. A few other tourists were there also, along with a local selling hot tea. We watched until the sun had risen over the craters, then hiked to the edge of the craters for a better view. We pushed through an overgrown path along the crater rim until we reached the eastern edge of the lakes, then took some more photos and headed back down to our waiting car. It was about 8 o'clock when we got back to the hotel. We had breakfast and went back to bed, trying to ignore the incessant rooster as we napped until noon. At noon we checked out of the hotel and sat by the side of the road to wait for a passing bus back to Ende, since Moni doesn't have a bus station. While we waited we chatted with the town's police officer, a young friendly guy whose on-duty duties apparently included sitting by the side of the road and watching cars go by. We asked if there's much crime in Moni, and he said about the only problem they ever have is theft from tourists, particularly at Maria Inn Hotel. We were glad we'd chosen one of the other two hotel options. The bus finally came rumbling down the road, and we flagged it to a stop. There was absolutely no room left inside, so we climbed on top with the luggage and hung on as the bus wound its way towards Ende.

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Comments

[joe]

perfect
"A cassette tape of reggae music blared at ear-splitting levels, on repeat..."