Alternate Titles: “Have Crackers, Will Travel” or “The Trans-Flores Shakedown”
4-7 September
We spent nine days traveling between Labuan Bajo and Maumere on Flores Island. While we had originally planned to do this via an expensive private car (about $100 a day), we learned shortly after arriving on Flores that there are shuttle buses and shared taxis along each leg of the journey. These mini-buses or cars have a lower probability of having chickens or pigs as passengers and extra people sitting on their roofs, and cost little more than the public bus (about $12-$15 for a 3-4 hour ride for both of us). The roads on Flores are rumored to be horrible. Having now completed the journey we are pleased with how smooth the roads are , and still horrified with queasiness at the omnipresent eye popping thousand-foot drop offs and never-ending hairpin turns. For these rides we obsessively carried crackers to settle our stomachs and took motion sickness pills to ward off any possibility of illness. Despite the many twists and turns, we are so glad that we traveled through Flores independently. Along the way, we were able to meet and befriend so many nice people, soak up both modern and traditional cultures, and sample the beautiful vistas that make Flores such a great place to visit.
Our first stop was in Ruteng, a stopover to save us from a 9+ hour ride to Bajawa. After an impossibly windy 4-hour bus ride, we arrived on a rainy afternoon at the Catholic monastery that would serve as our guesthouse for the night. After settling in, we wandered through the market a few times, gawking at the pig’s heads on the tables and marveling at the diversity of bananas for sale. Eventually we bought some bananas and then actually had to supply them to a restaurant later when I ordered a banana pancake and they were, miraculously, out of bananas. This is a common theme in Indonesia; the restaurant that is out of bananas when just a block away is an entire block so full of bananas that you cannot walk on the sidewalk. It is like the coffee plantation that runs out of coffee (Damn you, Arabika!) or the seaside restaurant that is out of fish. Alanis Morisette could write a song about these conundrums! But I digress… While in town we had to work hard to avoid picking up a guide, as almost everyone on the street wants to be your guide or help you find transport. Most of the people we meet are overjoyed to meet us and want us to write letters to them from home, while, in stark contrast, others literally stare us down. What we hope to be “looks of curiosity” appear to be an “I hate your guts” glares (we still do not understand what is going on here). After exploring the town, we walked up a small hill called Golo Curu that has sweeping views of bright green terraced rice fields and is accessible by foot from town. Along the way we enjoyed the company of a gang of between 3-20 children at a time –most too young to be considered guides- shouting “Hello Mister” at us and giggling. We referred to them affectionately as the “Ruteng Clan”.
The road to from Ruteng to Bajawa was equally as chaotic, but even more so because our driver was about 10 times more reckless. Somehow we completed the quoted 6-hour bus ride in just 3 hours. Happy to be off the road and arriving before dark, we ate guacamole (Yes!), drank beer, and enjoyed the cool climate and laid back atmosphere of Bajawa. The next day we struggled to find a guide, which was actually shocking to us after the pestering atmosphere in Ruteng! We met a guide named William who arranged transport for us to travel to a few of the traditional villages near town and to a hot spring near the town of Soa. William would later be our guide to the remote village of Belaragi and the coast beyond.
That day (September 6th) we went to two traditional villages - Luba and Bena - which are known for their picturesque dwellings and Ikat weavings. Luba Village, accessible via a dirt footpath about five minutes off the main road, was less touristy than Bena. When we arrived, a few children came out to play with us (we kicked a piece of fruit around for a few minutes) and the women in the village stopped what they were doing (weaving or cooking food) and hung up their Ikat weavings for us. The weavings are very bright and colorful and it was very interesting to be able to watch the women weaving. We purchased a colorful Ikat piece in Luba village, woven by a woman we met that day. Bena Village is just a few minutes down the road and is situated right below the magnificent Inerie volcano. As this village is just off the main road it receives many visitors and most of the traditional houses sell weavings, vanilla bean, or other trinkets. See more about the traditions of the Ngada people in the post titled “Trekking Back in Time to Belaragi”. After lunch (guacamole again!) we headed to a hot spring near the town of Soa. We relaxed in the interconnected pools and avoided the torrential afternoon rain as best as was possible.
The next day, we were abruptly woken up just before our alarm (at 6:30am) because the owner of the hotel we were staying at wanted a bucket that had ended up in our room the night before (we bought some hot water from them to take a shower) to wash his car –this is something that I imagine would never ever happen anywhere else. Indonesians are confusing to us at times. After this, we were more than ready to recharge our town-weary selves by trekking to a remote traditional village called Belaragi.
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