Labuanbajo, Seraya Island, and Komodo National Park


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Asia » Indonesia » Flores » Labuanbajo
November 9th 2007
Published: November 18th 2007
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The bus from Ruteng to Labuanbajo took about four hours, and Jeff and I sat near the front, constantly readjusting our feet so as not to burn them on the hot engine that churned beneath the metal bus floor. A woman nursed a week-old baby in the seat in front of us, apparently traveling back home after a trip to the hospital in Ruteng for a C-section. (We learned this from her husband, who was clearly very proud of the fact, and made elaborate tummy-slicing motions on his own stomach by way of demonstration.) Nearby, a couple held onto their two young sons, both dressed in orange T-shirts. One of these boys was absolutely terrified of Jeff. Every single time he glanced in Jeff's direction, he burst into horrified tears and grabbed at his mother in terror. Jeff tried smiling, not smiling, waving, saying hello, but it didn't matter. To this child, Jeff was a monster, and no matter what efforts he made, the kid sobbed every single time he saw that Jeff was still sitting there. The kid's parents and all of our neighbors on the bus thought this was hillarious, and did their best to coaxe the child to relax, but nothing helped. We stopped for lunch, and the boy's mother carried him over to Jeff in an attempt to introduce him, but the boy screamed in terror and started sobbing uncontrollably until Jeff was hidden from view. The entire busload of passengers was laughing now. It was quite frankly hillarious. Resigned to the fact that the kid would probably never get over his fear, Jeff did his best not to look at him for the rest of the ride, but the few times he glanced that way and the kid saw him the tears would start again, followed by laughter from everyone else. We rolled into the bus station outside of Labuanbajo in the mid-afternoon, feeling like we knew our fellow passengers very well.

We all crowded into bemos to head into town, dropping off various passengers at their homes or hotels. Jeff and I got out in front of Gardena Hotel, a complex of bungalows scattered on a steep hill overlooking the bay. We checked into a nice clean thatched bungalow with a porch, attached bathroom and tiled floors. It was high up on the hill, giving a great view of the boat-scattered bay and a constant comfortable breeze. We had dinner next door at a funky red and black-decorated cafe with a thrilling variety of food options: imported cheeses, a few Mexican-ish dishes, a good salad, even spinnach lasagne. After eating we played cards on our bungalow balcony for a while, then spotted a huge bug-eyed lizard stuck to the porch ceiling. I'm not sure what they're called, but they're spotted red and green and make a loud sound like "Tooook-Eeeeee." We call them tookies, for that reason, but I'm sure there's a more official name. We watched our tookie as his eyes hungrily followed the insects that swarmed the porch light, wondering how such a big and conspicuous lizard could possible suprise a flying insect. As we watched, an enormous fly settled on the ceiling a few inches from the tookie's nose, and we saw his eyes bead in anticipation. Then he pounced, so quickly that our jaws dropped, and the juicy fly was his. Jeff and I nearly clapped.

After our close-up Animal Planet hunting experience, we finished our card game and went to bed. For whatever reason we both found ourselves wide awake some time around two, and ended up talking for three hours about the future and what it might hold. The end of the trip was creeping closer, and we brainstormed places to live and other places to travel until we heard the first call to prayer. As the other four nearby mosques began their songs and chanting, we settled into silence and fell asleep. Soon after the calls to prayer had died away, we were woken again by an insanely loud horn sounding from the harbour. It was so loud I nearly fell out of bed, and we both stared at each other in the darkness for a shocked moment and then laughed. The horn went off a few more times in the next hour, and we slept fitfully until the second call to prayer, finally dragging ourselves out of bed around ten. We had lunch next door again, unable to resist the "Mexican chips with bean dip and salsa," then decided to set out in search of a beach. There were stretches of bright white sand visible from our hotel room, looking idyllic and inviting from our distant viewpoint. We asked our waiter which way was better for swimming, and he pointed us left, to the beach on the south side of the bay. It looked to be about a half an hour walk, from where we stood, and we set out cheerfully towards the water. From a glance it seemed like it wouldn't be too hard to get there by following the shoreline, although a patch of rough rocks separated the town from the beach. We walked through town towards the water, arriving at the harbour, where fishing boats were tied up onto a silty beach. The ground around the harbour was completely covered in trash and broken glass, and we watched with horror as barefoot kids splashed around in the shallows, ignoring the razor-sharp shards of broken bottles. We headed left, climbing over ropes and picking our way carefully through the glass and garbage. We passed the harbour and made it to the rocks, which stretched away along the shoreline. The white beach was hidden around a bend in the rocks, and we realized now that it was a lot further than we'd previously thought. We contemplated turning back, but we'd already walked over half an hour to make it to the rocks, and the thought of soft white sands and blue water spurred us forward. We climbed onto the jumble of rocks and began leaping, climbing and crawling our way along the shoreline. The sun began to feel hotter and hotter, and we kept slipping on the damp rocks in our flipflops. Soon we were extremely thirsty and dripping sweat, but turning back now seemed ridiculous. We continued our scrambling, nearly falling a few times, and finally turned the bend and could see the beach up ahead. We hurried over the rest of the rocks, finally setting foot on the bright white sands. Except the beach was completely deserted of people swimming or sunbathing or selling water (our first priority). Instead it was absolutely covered in trash. It was hard to take a step without standing on a plastic bag or rusted soda can. Old cement pathways wove away from the beach towards the road behind, and a few abandoned shelters stood as evidence that, once upon a time, this had been a great beach. But now it was a garbage dump, and we were hot and sweaty and extremely thirsty. We decided to swim anyway, since it was why we came, but the shallow water was so boiling hot that it didn't feel at all refreshing. We marched towards the road, hoping someone would pass soon to take us back to Labuanbajo. Luckily a pickup showed up a few minutes later, and we flagged it down and hopped into the cab for the ride back into town. We hopped out of the truck as soon as it reached Labuanbajo and bought and chugged a bottle of cold water. We then caught a bemo through town, back to our hotel, for more water and a cold shower. With water in us, however, we were able to find it pretty funny. I'm not sure how many people have crossed those rocks in the midday sun, but I doubt many have been foolish enough. It was probably a 3-mile hike through town and across the rocks. Thank God for sunscreen, or we would have both been the color of a ripe tomato.

We recovered from our hike with a meal and a cold beer at the hotel, then arranged with the hotel manager to head to Seraya Island the next day. Seraya is a tiny island a few hours from Labuanbajo, with a few bungalows and a restaurant owned by the owners of Gardena Hotel. A few days on an idyllic island sounded fantastic, so we arranged for a boat to take us the next morning. We would stay four days on Seraya, then a boat would come retreive us and take us to Komodo National Park on the way back to Labuanbajo. We watched the little brown geckos hunting knats on our porch ceiling for a bit, then went to bed.

In the morning we packed up, ate breakfast, put on our packs, and followed the hotel owner out of the hotel and through town to the harbour. We climbed onto a small boat with a tarp to keep off the sun, and waited while the boat captain and a few other guys loaded boxes of bottled water and baskets of produce and supplies onto the deck. Half-naked little boys wrestled on the dock, regularly throwing each other off the side into the water. When the boat was loaded the captian started the engine, and we headed out to sea, our teeth chattering as the ancient-sounding engine churned and chugged. The ride took about two hours, with beautiful views of volcanic islands and mangroves standing out of the clear blue water. When we pulled up to Seraya island, we found ourselves grinning. There was a perfect white beach lined with simple thatch huts, a single restaurant, a few scrubby trees, and that was it. Our boat went as far as it could until hitting the sand, then the captian hopped out into the water and waded ashore to bring back a canoe for our bags. As we waded onto the sand, we caught sight of what looked like a herd of deer grazing a little ways down the beach. This seemed impossible, but they looked too big to be goats (although there were tons of goats running around also) and one of them had antlers. As we got closer we confirmed that they were, in fact, deer. I felt giddy. This would be a good four days.

A couple sat in the restaurant and a few people sunbathed on the beach, but the place felt nearly empty. We checked into a bungalow with woven walls, a wooden porch out front, and a thatch roof. Three cement walls enclosed a toilet and water spout, although we were told that there was only fresh water from 6 to 9 p.m., and power from 6 to 10. We were to flush the toilet with seawater gathered in a bucket. There was snorkeling equipment for rent at the restaurant, and a shelf of books to check out or exchange. Otherewise, there was just white sand, blue water, clear skies, and a lot of goats and deer. I kicked my sandals off, and didn't put them on again for four days.

For the next four days we read, played cards, napped, swam, fed the goats and deer, chatted with the few other island occupants, and occasionally ventured up the hill behind the huts to see an incoming storm (which never actually reached us, but frequently rumbled in the distance) or watch the sun set. We rented snorkel gear and were thrilled to discover that the reef just offshore was fantastic. We saw huge triggerfish, clownfish darting in and out of anenomes, enormous starfish, an occasional eel, patches of black sea urchins looking like underwater mine fields, a few sea snakes, some huge puffer-looking fish with spines, and beautiful and dangerous lionfish. During the hottest part of the day we avoided the sun, reading or napping in our hut. We woke up one night and sat on the beach for a while to look at the astoundingly bright stars. Sparkling photoplankton glittered in the sea at night, like shimmering reflections of the stars. Overall, it was as idyllic as I could have imagined.

The only downside was the food, which was mediocre at best and very lacking in variety. The menu offered fish and squid, but despite the surrouding ocean they rarely had either. They did have cold beer though, and when the power was on they mixed up fruit shakes and smoothies. Plus the deer and goats were always happy to eat what we didn't finish, as were the cats that meowed at our feet at every meal. There was a tiny blind kitten there when we arrived, looking thin and emaciated. We all did our best to feed it and clean it's gummy eyes, but it wouldn't eat and didn't get better. One morning we didn't see it at breakfast, and that night they happened to offer chicken for the first time. Jokes about the chicken tasting like kitten bounced around the restaurant as we all ate.

The large male deer provided entertainment on a regular basis by charging anyone wearing green. I think he associated green with food, but whatever the reason he would quite aggresively chase down anyone foolish enough to wander down the beach in a green shirt. A wrestling match would often ensue, with the victim grabbing the buck's antlers in an attempt to avoid being gored, and the buck tossing his head and snorting in anger. We did our best to stay clear of him, especially when wearing green.

One evening after dinner I decided to take advantage of the 3-hour fresh water window and take a shower. At about 7:30 I began filling a water bottle with water from the tap and pouring it over myself, rinsing off the salt and sand. I had just sudsed up my hair with shampoo when the fresh water died, leaving me standing in the open-air bathroom with a head full of bubbles and nowhere to rinse. It wasn't even 8 yet and the water was supposed to stay on until 9, so I sent Jeff to investigate. He found the restaurant locked up and quiet, and had to jump a fence to find someone. Apparently everyone had finished eating early, so the restaurant folk had decided to shut down early also. The guy made a show of grumbling about the inconvenience of having to turn the water back on, even though it only required flipping a switch. It still took fifteen minutes for the water to come back, while I stood dripping suds in the bathroom, but I finally got a chance to rinse out the shampoo and finish my shower. The power went off at 10 as always, leaving us with nothing to do but sleep.

In the morning of our fifth day on Seraya a boat showed up to take us to Komodo National Park. It was a much nicer boat this time, with a smoother engine and benches to sit on. We had originally arranged to spend a night on the boat, visiting Komodo Island one day and Rinca Island the second. Rinca and Komodo are the only places in the world where Komodo dragons live naturally, and the two together compose Komodo National Park. We had heard, however, from other people staying in Seraya over the last few days, that a dragon sighting in Komodo is pretty rare and Rinca is much better. We decided last minute to skip Komodo and the overnight on the boat (also because we were worried about theft while sleeping on deck--we'd heard multiple theft stories from other travellers, far more than in any other country), and instead just visit Rinca and head back to Labuanbajo that afternoon.

The boat ride to Rinca took about three hours, and afforded beautiful views of tiny volcanic islands. Twice we saw dolphins, once very close to the boat. The very friendly boat captain served us tea and bananas. We arrived in Rinca a little before noon, and stepped off of the boat onto a dock leading up to a sign welcoming us to Komodo National Park. We followed a trail until we reached the ranger station, where we paid our $15 each fees (yikes) and were assigned a nice young guide to take us on a hike in search of Komodos. We didn't actually have to hike to see them, since a number of them napped under the ranger station, stretched out lazily in the dirt. They were, indeed, huge, reminding me of napping crocodiles. A few younger and more active dragons marched around the clearing, and we watched them warily and stayed out of their way. Komodos are extremely dangerous due to the toxicity level of their saliva. They are not, in fact, poisonous, but their saliva contains so many bacteria that anything (or anyone) bitten is almost guarenteed a quick death. Our guide informed us that a human is likely to live no more than a few hours, unless immediately administered antibiotics. He picked up a forked stick as means of protection, and we set off down a path away from the ranger station. We walked through dry scrub dotted with palm trees, following a dusty footpath. We spotted a number of dragons napping in the midday heat, and a few huge nests guarded by a single female. After about ten minutes of walking, the guide mentioned that the dragons are attracted to the scent of blood and have a very keen sense of smell. Raising my eyebrows, I asked if this is ever a problem for women on their period. I wasn't sure he would understand, but he immediately answered cheerfully "Oh yes, big problem, a German woman was bitten a few months ago because she was on her menstruation cycle." Then he stopped walking for a moment, looked at me shyly, and asked "But you are okay, yes?" I swallowed and said "Ummmm maybe not?" For a moment he looked panicked, then he quickly composed himself and shrugged and kept walking. I stared at Jeff, bug-eyed, then we hurried after him. I kept a very careful eye on the komodos from then on, skirting as far from them as possible when we passed. Luckily, the sun seemed to work like a drug, and most of them hardly moved.

We made it to a watering hole after about an hour, where komodos and buffalos soaked in the muddy puddle. Buffalos are the primary foodsource of the komodos, but in the heat of midday they ignored each other as they attempted to keep cool. It was dry season on Rinca, and this was one of the only places on the island that still had water. We sat and watched for a while, and I'll admit I found the enormous buffalos more interesting than the dragons. One of the buffalos had a festering bite on his tail, a stamp of his imminent death. We eventually left the water hole and hiked back to the ranger station. We had a snack of peanuts and chugged down some water, then returned to our boat to head back to Labuanbajo. As the boat set out we were served a lunch of fish, rice and fried noodles. It took about two hours to reach Labuanbajo, and we napped away part of the ride, lying on a woven mat on the deck. We pulled up to the dock in the late afternoon, thanked the boat captain, and took a room at Gardena once again.

We spent two more days in Labuanbajo, relaxing on the porch, eating next door, playing cards, and resisting any urge to "go to the beach" again. Then on November 8th we took a bemo to the Labuanbajo "airport" (a single room that was currently a mess due to construction) and caught a flight back to Bali.







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20th November 2007

way to go jeff.
21st November 2007

blah
looking at jeff makes me poop my pants in addition to crying...i sympathize

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