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Published: September 6th 2010
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Nusa Tenggara - the stretch of Indonesia starting east of Bali and extending as far as Papau - is a delectable chain of islands linked by rugged peaks and valleys that have been dipped in glowing green vegetation and sprinkled with thatched-roof villages. We flew over this mesmerizing landscape in a very small plane, one with external propellers that looked more like something you'd pull out of a cereal box than an actual means of transport. But made it we did, landing at the very modest airport in Maumere. (I've seen convenience stores bigger than this thing. The luggage pick-up consisted of a very narrow conveyor belt, about 3m long with a guy at one end shoving bags through a not-so-discrete curtain. If you missed your bag's 10 second journey down the belt, you had to search for it in the pile of luggage accumulating at the opposite end.)
This stunning slice of Nusa Tenggara was formerly known as "Snake Island" because tribal villagers worshiped the python, native to this part of Indonesia. That was until the Portuguese arrived and introduced Christianity and a much more tourist-friendly name: Flores. Both modifications stuck, and rightly so as the whole island is
brimming with vibrant fushia and coral pink blossoms. As you can imagine, Flores leaves quite the impression, with it's powdery white beaches, misty green cloud forests, volcanoes and sulfuric lakes, small mountains, far-reaching plains used for rice, coffee and cashew nut plantation, and small, dry hills covered in carpets of golden grass. It's not a big place (though it is the largest island in Nusa Tenggara) but there's only one road running east-west across the island that skirts through this varied topography. This means that a 65km distance translates into 4 hours on a cramped public bus - long and drawn-out but enjoyable nonetheless.
Originally planning to cross the whole island by means of public transport, I was seduced by a seemingly friendly guide who also happened to be a very talented salesman (though I suppose they have to be). My instincts overruled, I agreed to a guided tour of the island which ended up being a less than pleasant experience. Besides a few mishaps and a general lack of professionalism - the guide backing out at the last-minute because he had "unknowingly" been assigned to a larger group arriving the next day; the driver trying to convince me
to let him share a bed with me to save on accommodation expenses; the driver then showing up 4 hours late the next morning, etc., - the experience didn't really get ugly until I invited a fellow traveller to join me in the car for a day.
Having agreed on a price that included the car, the gas, the driver, his accommodation and food, I didn't see much of a problem asking this new friend (the valiant Mathieu from France) to tag along. Apparently the driver did though, and immediately demanded more money for the second person. I asked how it made a difference if there was more than one person in the car, but his lack of English (and my lack of Indonesian, to be fair) meant the matter was left unresolved before arriving at our first point of interest - three coloured lakes on the volcano of Kelimutu. The weather was horrendous that morning, but Mathieu and I decided we weren't going to let a wall of torrential rain stop us. It wasn't the most spectacular view, but we gave it our best effort, sacrificing our dry clothes to the rain in exchange for a few quick
glimpses of the opaque aquamarine water between the shifting clouds. I spent the previous day in Moni, the small village nearby, hiking through the cloud forest past a waterfall and a make-shift bamboo bridge, tiny villages of no more than 5 houses each, densely-packed farmland and free-range pigs.
Back in the car, the driver got the guide on the phone who immediately started yelling at me, asking why I had caused such a problem bringing this other person into the car. I won't go into the language he used or the outlandish names he called us, because they don't deserve to be repeated. Suffice to say, I felt so uncomfortable (and pissed off, quite frankly) that I decided not to continue the tour. Having paid only the first two days, I wasn't losing any money but had still paid the driver for his time thus far. I thought this was more than fair, considering the way we had been treated. When I expressed this to the driver, he got the guide on the phone once more who proceeded to threaten violence and worse if I chose not to continue for the last couple of days. Of course these were
empty threats coming from a man who realized he was going to lose out on money, but he certainly did a good job freaking me out a bit. We got the driver to let us out in the next town (quite a passive fellow, I think he was as relieved as we were to be rid of the other) and immediately caught a public bus to our next destination. A little shaken, I was very thankful to have had Mathieu there, who did a commendable job staying calm throughout the whole ordeal. Not the most pleasant experience, but definitely one to learn from. And sometimes a little unpleasantness is part of the deal when travelling abroad.
Thankfully, none of what happened tainted the rest of my time in this lovely bit of Indo and I was able to fully enjoy the next few days. Mathieu and I found ourselves a wonderful place to stay in the town of Bajawa - though more for the friendliness of the owners, than for their choice in decor. From here, we spent a day on a motorbike (which we had to haggle for with a local at the market - apparently $7 is
enough to lend your brand new bike to two inexperienced strangers) visiting the local traditional villages and marveling at the countryside and horrible road conditions (we had a few scrapes by the end of the day) as we whizzed by.
Our first stop was the village of Wogo, a small cluster of stilted houses with bamboo mats and bare-foot children. Here, we encountered the lovely Maria who swept us into her kitchen for coffee, quicker than we could say boo. She was more than friendly, letting us roam around the three-room hut while her 1-year old son toddled after us. She told us how she likes to visit with tourists whenever they drop by, practicing her English and collecting friends from different countries. And she didn't yet have Canada! She explained to us the strong community values of the village, how there is little need for money and formal work because people share everything and chip in when needed. While explaining this, her four year old neighbour dropped by to take some embers from the kitchen fire to help her mother cook lunch. The life there seemed simple, but happy and it was a pleasure and privilege to pay
these people a short visit.
We scooted back to Bajawa for lunch, and then headed out again to find hot springs that were a relaxing treat after maneuvering sharp turns and steep descents on the motorbike. Having to fill up the tank at a road-side gas station (which consisted of three litre-bottles of petrol on a wooden shelf), we had the opportunity to chat a little with the locals in the surrounding area who were also very friendly. The kids would run by shouting a chorus of hellos (addressing both of us as 'mister' since there is no gender distinction in the Indonesian language) and fellow bikers were more than willing to point us in the right direction whenever necessary (which was often). The day was capped off by a couple of Bintangs at a quirky restaurant that looked more like Swiss Chalet than an Indonesian warung.
The next morning, bright and early, we set forth on a day-long, winding bus journey from Bajawa to the west coast. Mathieu took his leave about halfway through the journey, but I forged ahead to the port town of Labuan Bajo, ready to continue my underwater exploration and at some of
the most renowned diving sites in the world. Stay tuned for the Komodo National Park.
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