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The
Shipping Forecast - 01/06/2006
Approaching
Flores in the early hours the ferry snuck past Komodo and Ricna
island before docking in Labuanbajo. It was still dark so
we had a coffee before setting out to find a room. A local told
us about the ridiculous price increases at Komodo National park
(which covers Komodo and Rinca). It costs 40,000Rp plus
$15, just for the entrance fee. He told us most tourists now
just take a boat to Rinca (cheaper and closer than Komodo with
more wildlife and chance to see the dragon), walk from the
harbour to the office, see a dragon and don't pay the fee. Which
is exactly what we did. There were two dragons waiting for us on
the harbour, vicious looking throwbacks to the Jurassic era.
We stopped to snorkel near a small uninhabited island on the way
back and that was our Komodo experience.
Komodo dragon
On the morning we arrived in Labuanbajo the Pelni ship left for
Sulawesi on its monthly journey. An ASDP ferry was
scheduled to leave on the 28th May but it meant after making
such good time through Indonesia our journey was delayed beyond
our control.
This did mean we had time to explore Flores in a more
comfortable manner. The first stop was Ruteng, an
unexceptional town but conveniently placed five hours along the
"trans-Flores Highway". It was also the site of the
discovery of the Flores man, some kind of Asian evolutionary
missing link,a few years ago. Unfortunately no-one in town
could provide any information about it.
The "trans-Flores Highway" is a very loose description of the
road that traverses Flores. Flores is only about 350km in
length but the TFH is more than 700km long. The twists and
turns almost double the length and also make most Indonesians
sick. I never understand why so many Asians get motion
sickness. They use the roads everyday, they should get
used to them. I also don't understand why they stuff their
faces with greasy food at every stop and look surprised when it
comes back up 20km along the road.
Flores has a unique method of job creation. All the bus
terminals are at least 3km out of town, necessitating a bemo
ride because Indonesians find it impossible to walk even ten
yards. Bemos are small vans with bench seats in the back.
They charge around 2000Rp per journey but try to charge a lot
more for foreigners. In every town the bus must stop at
the terminal where the passengers transfer to a bemo and then
the bus can enter the town empty. Leaving town is even
more absurd. The bus cruises around town looking for
passengers but should then deposit them in a bemo for the ride
to the terminal where they can pick them up again and start the
journey! In practise however most of the drivers, and
often passengers, pay the bemo "mafia" a payment in order to
avoid this debacle. Whichever way, the bemo drivers win.
Unless somebody walks to the terminal, as we did, but most
Indonesians hail the bus from their front door and then wait for
someone to come and collect their baggage before they waddle on
to the bus. A minimum 3km walk just is not in their
lexicon. Arriving at night is preferable because all the
bemos knock off early and then the buses are free to drop
everyone off on a door-to-door service.
After one night in Ruteng, and an argument with a bemo which
resulted in the driver getting scared and fleeing without any
payment, we walked to the terminal and headed for Bajawa.
Another unremarkable town, Bajawa seems to attract all the
tourists due to its position half way between between Labuanbajo
and Kelimutu. There are also some "traditional villages" nearby.
We met a Czech couple in Bajawa and together we hired motorbikes
to explore these villages. In order to hire the bikes all
we did was stop in the road and ask a guy if we could take his
bike for the day. Within seconds we were surrounded by
people offering their bikes. The first village we visited
was Bema and as it appeared around the bend it was like
discovering a hidden world. On closer inspection we
realised capitalism had preceded us as the enterprising village
elders demanded 5000Rp per head donation (of the fixed,
Indonesian kind). We declined and headed on. A few
kilometres further the road became a trail and then a landslide.
The girls had to walk as our 125cc bikes were given a dirt-bike
rally.
Bema village
At the bottom were some hot springs. They were perfect.
An natural hot spring that meets an icy waterfall creating a
power shower that ranges from scalding to freezing depending on
where you sit. We interrupted the bemused locals doing their
laundry, bathing and catching dragonflies as two white guys
joined them. Monika and Viktoria declined due to exhaust
burns. It was my first hot shower in Indonesia!
Further on was the traditional village of Nage. Very
traditional, with the exception of the Juventus flag in one
window. Here there was no donation, just village folk
pottering around and inquisitive children lining up for photos.
Refreshingly there were no shouts for "school pen" or "bon-bon".
On the bumpy ride back to town Honzas Honda got a flat tyre.
I took Viktoria on my bike with Monika and I and we crawled to
the next town. A bemo offered to take him and the bike to
the garage for 20,000Rp (about $2.50) and he tried to bargain
them down! I would of jumped at it, considering what they could
have charged. He eventually agreed. I fI was the bemo
driver I would of driven off and left him there! At the garage
they only charged him 10,000Rp to repair it. Probably
double the usual rate but again, they could of charged a whole
lot more. I am not sure he realised how lucky he was!
Another few hours stretch of the TFH took us to Ende, the last
stretch along the coast being particularly scenic. Ende
has some of the most persistent bemo touts here and one tried to
grope Monika, again nearly resulting in fisticuffs. We
walked to town, had lunch, found a friendly bemo, run by young
lads in baseball caps to take us to the other terminal.
Whilst waiting for a bus a jeep pulled up and a strange looking
Austrian guy appeared and asked if we wanted to share his jeep
to Moni. It cost 300,000Rp, the bus cost 10,000Rp per
person. He decided to wait for the bus. I felt sorry for
the driver, he must of been gutted to miss out on such a good
earner.
The next day we took a jeep up to Inspiration point for sunrise.
The three-coloured lakes in the crater of Kelimutu are
spectacular. Even in the half-light of dawn the turquoise
lake was shining incandescently. The local myth is that
the souls of the young go to the turquoise lake when they die,
the souls of the old to the brown and the souls of criminals to
the black. In the early morning the black lake was covered
in mist, making this tale very believable. The views from
here from the brown lake viewpoint and the walk back to Moni
down through the rice paddies raised my impressions of Flores.
Turquoise
lake, Kelimutu
We had been told that a ferry could leave Maumere for Sulawesi
on 26th May but when we arrived in Maumere we discovered it was
in the dock in Surabaya being patched up. We spent a night
in this seedy but friendly port. Walking back through the
deserted streets at night we heard eerie music and singing from
the church. It felt like a horror film - deserted streets
and the sound of cicadas over ethereal singing from the church,
the only building lit up in town.
85% of Flores is Christian which is another interesting change
and makes a lot of it feel like latin America or a Caribbean
island especially with the laziness, wooden slat buildings and
lack of reliable information.
It seems there was a ferry leaving Larantuka for Sulawesi at
10am on the 26th. We found out at 7am. Larantuka is
4 hours drive from Maumere. Do the math and you realise we
had a two-day trip back to Labuanbajo ahead of us, overnighting
in Bajawa.
Flores really suffers from being so far from anything important.
Nobody knows anything, no-one even knows when the next boat is
leaving. On the way back to Labuanbajo we noticed that
none of the petrol stations had any fuel, the cars were queued
miles back and the whiskey bottles in the smaller petrol stalls
were empty too. Similarly every post office was packed
with hundreds of people but no-one could tell us why. We
left Flores on the 28th, the ASDP ferry arriving on time, and
leaving on time, just when we thought we would be stuck on
Flores for ever. Only in Sulawesi did we find out about
the terrible earthquake in Yogyakarta. I am sure you have
all seen the news coverage. It has cast a shadow over
Indonesia once again and should make us realise how small we are
and how trivial most of our problems are.
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