Crossing Flores Island, Part II: Bajawa to Maumere

Other Titles: The pleasures of being patient.

9-12 September

After returning from our trek and staying at the more comfortable and hospitable Silverin Hotel just outside of Bajawa, the staff helped us to flag down a shared taxi for transport to the town of Moni. This method of travel is very efficient but initially appears dubious at best. After strapping our bags to the roof, we were loaded into the “way back” of a 6-8 passenger car (the size of a hatchback). We headed off and my eyes widened as I counted how many people were in the car – 1 adult and 2 children in the front passenger seat, 2 adults and 3 children in the middle seat, and 3 adults (ourselves included) in the back seat. A total of 12 people including the driver! We were in for a cramped, kid puking, 3+ hour ride to Ende, where we would pick up another shared taxi on to Moni. Luckily, we were sitting next to a very nice man who was a tour guide and spoke great English. The car we found in Ende was itself one of the highlights of my day. This was a large SUV, pimped out (as so many of the cars and bemos are on Flores) with stickers emulating broken windows and giant slogans like “Casanova” or “Don’t Touch” printed on the front window, a booming sub-woofer in the back, and a driver that could not have been more than 17 dressed like a total gangster. I felt very bad for the 90 year old man sitting next to Nick. We drove through the pouring tropical rain, passing actively eroding hillsides and dodging large boulders – sometimes as they fell from the roadside. All this while rocking out (I had my ear plugs in for awhile as I was sitting on the sub-woofer) to a mix of classic rock, rap music, and sappy Indonesian ballads.

Arriving in Moni in the early evening we were very road weary and starving (we skipped lunch)!! We ate dinner, arranged for a 4:30am motorbike transport to the Kelimutu Lakes, were invited to a Idul Fitri (end of Ramadan) party the next day that everyone was very excited about because they “had not drunk any alcohol for one month” (but we thought most Muslims did not drink alcohol?), and went straight to bed.

Early morning and our first motorbike ride of the trip (first ever for Nick). It had been raining nonstop for a few days, so we were worried about the dark 13km ride to the trailhead and whether the lakes would even be visible at sunrise. Miraculously, the rain stopped long enough for us to arrive at the lakes and enjoy them before starting up again on our way down the hill. The lakes are stunningly gorgeous. The Kelimutu Lakes are three crater lakes of three different colors, literally right next to one another. Opaque turquoise, chocolate brown, and dark blue/black. The local people believe that these lakes are the final resting place for the souls of the dead – the young go to the turquoise, the old to the brown, and the wicked to the black. I will say it again – they are stunning. I think you can see them in the aerials on Google Earth or Google Maps – find the town of Moni, Flores, Indonesia and they should be nearby.

After breakfast, and in a break from the rain, we walked to a nearby waterfall and then the whole length of the small town. On the way back to our hotel we started to talk about how we wished that there was a store in town or a market because we hoped to by some Ikat weavings before we left Flores. Before reaching our hotel we decided to stop at a restaurant for a cup of kopi susu (coffee with milk), it was closed because of Ramadan but the woman across the street offered to make us coffee and then asked “You like Ikat weaving? Jenny have Ikat to sell from my village. Come to Jenny house”. As everyone in the town had been overwhelmingly friendly, we did not hesitate to go to Jenny’s house, have some coffee, and do a little shopping. Jenny turned out to be the woman we met on the street, who, to our amusement, continued to refer to herself in the third person throughout our conversation. Jenny’s family was from Nggela Village and she had many weavings made by herself (“this made by Jenny”) and other members of her family. The weavings were beautiful and very good quality, we bargained for awhile and enjoyed talking to Jenny over a delicious cup of kopi susu (coffee with milk). After about twenty minutes we finally got her to agree to our low offer. I usually do the bargaining, but Nick’s foray as the “bad cop” or strict husband today really helped us make a great deal on these weavings. Buying things in this manner is a true pleasure.

The rest of the day we spent with our newfound Indo friends, celebrating the end of Ramadan and watching a bunch of young Indonesian men sing karaoke and get fall on the floor drunk on arak (homebrew palm liquor) and beer. Meanwhile, their wives, mothers, and sisters made them food and tried to ignore them – I was the only girl invited to the party. On that note, I was actually happy to be a girl in this culture today; it was much easier for me to refuse drinks while Nick was expected to partake in round after round of shots…He made it through very drunk but relatively unscathed.

The next day we headed down to Maumere on the coast – our final stop before flying back to Bali. We arrived at the Gading Resort outside of town and settled into our beachside bungalow. We spent the rest of the day staring at the beautiful blue water and distant islands, snorkeling, and relaxing. In the morning, we ran on the beach (we are now officially in training for our Nepal trek) and stared at the water some more before heading to the airport. Bali, here we come!

Great moments that I missed:

Watching music videos while riding in the back of a pimped out bemo. Everybody loves Shakira.

Watching a group of young boys vigorously shake a bemo as they fueled it, because they think that shaking it will allow more gas to get into the tank

Seeing a teenager dressed like a perfect drug dealing gangster in a village that barely has electricity let alone a serious gang problem (is this Compton?)

Car surfing – 10+ people riding on the roofs of cars on steep, windy roads, in the rain

Road Work – Waiting for 20 minutes while men perched precariously 50 feet up on a vertical slope (no ropes) pushed large boulders off onto the road to prevent future landslides and rockfalls

The incredible, impossible to describe, scenic nature of Flores Island

The smell of roasting coffee wafting through the car or bus/window over and over again as we cruised along the highway

The woman we rode with from Moni to Maumere who had a full set of diamond “grills” on each of her upper teeth.

Many of the men you meet on the street (and on buses) are carrying an unsheathed parang (machete) at least 2 feet long. Somehow, this does not alarm us at all.

Seeing an entire driveway, sidewalk, or lane of the road filled with cloves or coffee left to dry in the sun.