Flores: Bajawa: Beautiful Mountain Retreat

Flores is my Indonesia swan song – my last major trip in the archipelago nation before heading back to the U.S. I’m just barely staying true to Weekend Crossroad’s philosophy, as between its immense size and still developing infrastructure, Flores requires considerably more a long weekend to explore properly. However, those with time constraints can always choose a couple of highlights to enjoy, as illustrated in the following multi-part Flores series. Alternatively, one can choose to take an 8-10 day overland trip from Maumere to Labuan Bajo, which covers roughly two-thirds of the island.

This is Part five of eight.  Check out Part one, Flores 101: How, When and Why to Go,  Part two, Flores: Singing and Swaying in Sikka, Part three, Flores: Enjoying the Multicolored Regency of Ende, and Part four: Flores: Relaxing in Riung.

Mount Inerie Bajawa

Mount Inerie, ringed with clouds as seen from the highway to Bajawa.

Reading in Mangeruda Hot Springs

This is how I chill — in hot springs.  Now this is true relaxation as well as balm for aching bones!

Bajawa is by far the most chill place in Flores — both literally and figuratively.  With temperatures dropping to as low as 12 degrees centigrade in the chilliest months of July and August, visitors will definitely need a sweater and/or light jacket.   And as in Northern Sumatra, there are many Indo-Rastafarian “mountain guides” happy to lead treks or just hang out.  Travelers who are athletically inclined will find no shortage of beautiful volcanoes to scale, while at the other end of the spectrum, those in search of local gastronomic delights will not be disappointed (for a change!)  An excellent midpoint for your over-island adventure, Bajawa is a great place to just relax.

Heading to Bajawa from Riung, we bump along the same terrible road for several kilometers before reconnecting with the paved highway.  Our first stop is Mangeruda Hot Springs, a facility which itself has seen better days, but on the plus side is delightfully empty on weekdays.

Avoid the man-made pools which are of dubious hygienic standards, and head straight for the natural falls.  While short in stature, they still pack quite a punch and are used by locals for a natural massage.  A quick “pit stop” should be more than sufficient unless you want an extended soak.  (I quite enjoyed reading in Soa Poba Polo, the point where the hot spring  meets the river, serving as a natural thermostat of sorts.)

Arriving in Bajawa, capital of Ngada Regency, we enjoy a quick lunch at Camellia Restaurant and drop off our bags at the hotel.   We then head for Bena Village, located short ride away through gorgeous mountain passes and a beautiful bamboo forest.

Bena Village is one of the best-preserved examples of Ngada culture.  Home to megalithic stone formations, ancestral shrines, and a small grotto dedicated the Virgin Mary, Bena at once conjures up a deep sense of history, tradition, and connection to the spiritual world.  There is also a vibrant sense of life, with children playing football clad in dusty jerseys of their favorite players, and women chatting, chewing betel nut, and weaving traditional ikat sarongs and blankets.

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The raised, thatched roof Ngada village houses are set up in two parallel lines, in the center of which can be found ancestral shrines – the ngadhu, representing male ancestors, and the bhaga, which serves as the female ancestral clan shrine.

IMG_4697Unlike most social groups in Indonesia, the Ngada are matrilineal, meaning that children are considered to be members of their mother’s clan – and houses are bequeathed accordingly. Ancient Ngada society was organized according to strict hierarchical classes – nobility, warriors and slaves.

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Nothing goes to waste . . . water buffalo horns, skulls, and pig jaws from ritual sacrifices are used to decorate homes.

During my visit, a flurry of building activity was going on, with workers seeking to replicate traditional processes as much as possible.  (I later find out that while the site has been placed on the UNESCO World Heritage Tentative List, the villagers are striving for permanent recognition, and the organization is providing financial assistance to support this goal.)

But what really strikes me is the megalithic structures at the center of the village, which I am told continue to serve as means to connect with the supernatural realm and ancestral worship through ritual ceremonies and animal sacrifice.    No one is able to tell me exactly how old they are — but the village itself dates back over 1000 years. 

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IMG_4727The final stop is a small hill which offers a beautiful panoramic vista of Bena Village, Mount Inerie, and the volcanic valleys leading to the Savu Sea.  It is crowded with local visitor, but I still found unobstructed vantage points from which to snap photos.

Apart from Bena Village and hikes of varying difficulty, there is not much to “do” in Bajawa.  Surprisingly this is what made it one of the more enjoyable stops for me.  Taking advantage of the cooler temperatures, I took extended walks around the town and deep breaths of the crisp mountain air.  I also enjoyed some of the best food I had in Flores at Lucas Cafe, where I indulged in pork sate and tempe(h) with tomato — a different style of preparation from what I typically had in Java.  I had no idea what was coming up next — but had I been aware, I would have appreciated this down time all the more!

 

Flores: Relaxing in Riung

Flores is my Indonesia swan song – my last major trip in the archipelago nation before heading back to the U.S. I’m just barely staying true to Weekend Crossroad’s philosophy, as between its immense size and still developing infrastructure, Flores requires considerably more a long weekend to explore properly. However, those with time constraints can always choose a couple of highlights to enjoy, as illustrated in the following multi-part Flores series. Alternatively, one can choose to take an 8-10 day overland trip from Maumere to Labuan Bajo, which covers roughly two-thirds of the island.

This is Part four of eight.  Check out Part one, Flores 101: How, When and Why to Go,  Part two, Flores: Singing and Swaying in Sikka and Part three, Flores: Enjoying the Multicolored Regency of Ende. 

Panoramic view of the Seventeen Islands at Sunset.

Panoramic view of the Seventeen Islands at sunset.

If there is one thing to drop from your Flores itinerary, Riung would be the place. Accessible only via the narrowest and bumpiest of country roads, it is slow pickings to get to. To call even the best accommodation basic is, well, kind. Though the islands themselves are nice enough, I found snorkeling far better in the clear and shallow waters around the islands off the west of Flores (Komodo, Rinca and their ilk). The highlights for me of this segment of the trip were enjoying freshly-caught grilled tuna and snapper, floating and boating on the calm waters of the Savu Sea (known to the locals simply as the South Sea) and witnessing a colony of “flying fox” bats spread their amazing wingspans in the early afternoon. At night, the “backwardness” of the village becomes its best asset as, unfettered by light pollution, the stars in the night sky shine brilliantly and seem deceptively within one’s grasp.

After a seemingly interminable jostling ride which seems more like trailblazing than actually driving on a road, we stop by a rather nondescript patch of dirt. This, explains my guide, is why we’ve gone to all this pain. A short climb later, I find myself enjoying a panoramic vista that is marred only by armies of biting ants that seem to find my ankles particularly attractive targets. Having just seen the sunrise at Kelimutu that morning, there is a certain feeling of completeness that comes over me as I watch that very same sun descend over a completely different place.

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Appreciating the 17 Islands at sunset

 As I scan the horizon I find myself fascinated by the frequency with which islands become national exercises in branding and public relations. Take Australia’s Twelve Apostles – stunning rock formations jutting out of the water along Victoria’s Great Ocean Road. Originally called the Sow and Piglets, the limestone outcrops were renamed in the 1920s to be more attractive to tourists. Never mind that there are actually only nine of them!

In a similar fashion, a traveler with far too much time on his/her hands may attempt to count the islands off Riung from the fantastic vantage point where I am standing. Such travelers might be surprised to find their count exceeding 17. Though this might be attributed to an excessive consumption of Bintang or worse, the local Arak palm liquor, the truth is that there are indeed 21 islands in total. However, given that the 17th of August, 1945 marks Indonesia’s independence day,  such poetic license may be forgiven.

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A fishing boat marooned at the harbor during low tide.

The evening passes unremarkably. The next morning we head to the rather grandiosely named “tourist harbor” to board the tiny vessel that will convey us around for the next 8 hours or so.   At low tide, the pier looks like a boat graveyard, with fishing boats lolling drunkenly on their sides. Boarding the boat is an interesting experience of its own, feeling almost like a steeplechase meeting an obstacle course. But finally we are all settled in with all of the essentials – drinking water, snorkels and fins, and fresh food and vegetables for grilling later in the day.

While snorkeling abounds, the avid scuba diver may be disappointed to learn that there are no diving outfits or dive masters in Riung. The islands have been afforded marine park preservation status, which is key to maintaining its sensitive ecosystem of  some 30 different species of coral as well as colorful fish and playful dolphins.

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This is the life!

We begin the day at “Pulau Tiga” or “Third Island” (I wonder if all the islands are numbered – and later learn that in fact they’re not. . .) I languidly inflate a floating cushion which serves two purposes – first, acting as a platform for my underwater camera, and second, acting as a platform for me as I float in the sea with a trashy paperback novel.  Why do even the most mundane of tasks seem easier and restful on an island?

While I am, er, hard at work, my trusty boat crew is engaged in a far more meaningful endeavor — preparing lunch!

Boat on Pulau Tiga

Our trusty vessel moored on Pulau Tiga

After stuffing ourselves silly on amazing tuna and snapper, noodles, vegetables and rice, we waddle over to the boat to check out snorkeling opportunities on a couple of other small islands.  Unfortunately due to changing tides the waters are a bit cloudy, so we decide to head out to the final two stops of the itinerary.

On Pulau Ontoloe, one of the larger islands, we bump into another group of tourists who are eager to hike up the large hill to enjoy the view.  While I like this idea in theory. . . in practice I find that I am too hot and lazy to bother.  We play a temporary game of musical guides as Janny takes them climbing, and I lounge and snorkel with the other guide.

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The giant bats at rest initially resemble some bizarre flowering tree from the Addams Family.

My boat then heads for the mangroves of Kalong Island. Having recently experienced the splendor of the exodus of “wrinkle-lipped” bats from the caves at Mulu National Park in Sarawak, Borneo, Malaysia, I find myself skeptical as we approach Kalong Island, which is famed for its colony of “flying fox” bats, also known as “fruit” bats. (Exactly who gives these poor creatures their ridiculous common names anyway?!?) But the experience was unforgettable for a number reasons.

  • This bat family comprises the largest bats in the world – and this is readily apparent as you see them soaring overhead.

  • Flying fox bats soaring over mangroves in the late afternoon.

    The only other times I’ve seen bats have been at night or in really dark caves. These bats are out and active in broad daylight or else can be found dramatically suspended from trees in the open air.

  • Not only could I get a good glimpse of the breadth of the wingspans of these magnificent creatures – they were actually flying close enough that I could see the pumping of their veins through the semi-transparent membranes of these amazing appendages. (Sounds gross in writing, but it was really quite beautiful.) You can also see the distinctly pointed, fox-like noses from which they derive one of their familiar names. (The other, less interesting name, derives from the tropical-fruit based diet of this particular family of bats).
  • Every other bat encounter I’ve had has involved significant climbing or tumbling in near pitch blackness. I got to enjoy this whole performance comfortably perched on the hull of my boat. This also meant that I was not jostling with hundreds of other tourists for the “perfect view.”

Finally, as we head back to shore, I am amazed by how exhausting I found a day of doing absolutely nothing.  Slightly sunburned but highly satisfied, I head over to Rumah Makan Murah Muriah, pretty much the only decent place to eat in town, and fall into a deep slumber.

Next stop, Bajawa!

Continue onto part five here.

Flores: Singing and Swaying in Sikka

Flores is my Indonesia swan song – my last major trip in the archipelago nation before heading back to the U.S. I’m just barely staying true to Weekend Crossroad’s philosophy, as between its immense size and still developing infrastructure, Flores requires considerably more a long weekend to explore properly. However, those with time constraints can always choose a couple of highlights to enjoy, as illustrated in the following multi-part Flores series. Alternatively, one can choose to take an 8-10 day overland trip from Maumere to Labuan Bajo, which covers roughly two-thirds of the island.

This is Part two of eight.  Part one, Flores 101: How, When and Why to Go, can be accessed here.

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For me, the highlights of Sikka regency were the vibrant ceremony at Watublapi Village just outside of Maumere, and Koka beach, whose crystal clear waters and white sands

Heading out of Maumere’s Frans Seda airport, I see a man with a gap-toothed grin holding a sign with a rough approximation of my name, featuring many additional consonants that give it an almost Icelandic flair.   (Speaking of names, the airport honors the rather grandly named Franciscus Xaverius Seda, the most famous local son who served in various ministerial positions under President Suharto. I later find myself fascinated by Florensian names, many of which, like Mr. Seda’s harken back to the early Christian era in Rome.)

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My beachfront bungalow.

As I check in to my hotel in the late afternoon, I have absolutely nothing on my agenda. This is fine with me, given that I have a rather packed 10 days ahead.   Indeed, there is not much to do in Maumere – despite its status as Flores’s largest town – certainly not within walking distance, anyway. For those who are so inclined, there are a number of diving resorts and operators in the area. Avid divers, however, may be disappointed to learn that between natural disasters, pollution, and the devastating practice of dynamite fishing, much of the coral in the area has been destroyed.

I am told that there is a special buffet dinner that starts at 7, and I settle into my beach bungalow with the best of intentions to rest my eyes for just a few minutes.   At 7:45 I am jolted awake by lively folk music, and realize that I have overslept. The adage “you snooze you lose” proved painfully true in this instance, as by the time I stumble into the dining room there is little more than white rice and a few sad looking pieces of fish remaining. (Unfortunately, this is an all-too-common phenomenon for travelers in the region!)

At dinner, I am greeted by a florid-faced white-haired man who introduces himself as Father Heinrich. He welcomes me, and explains that the evening’s celebration is in honor of his 86th birthday. I am duly impressed and make the appropriate congratulatory remarks. Throughout my trip I note that nearly all of the higher-end tourist accommodations are expat-owned and managed, and a significant number of these individuals originally came to Flores as Catholic missionaries with a particular focus on bolstering the weak local education system.

The next morning, I am greeted by my guide and partner-in-crime for the next week, Janny (short for Johanes Marcus!). He explains that we will interact with a number of different ethnic groups throughout the week, and our first stop will be the Sikka village of Watublapi. Most tourists only stop by briefly to check out the village’s renowed ikat weaving. For me, however, there is a special surprise in store.

“Oh, helelarak! Oh, helelarak!”” Welcome, welcome! The village elder and traditionally dressed women sing and dance in a welcome ceremony to Watublapi Village in Sikka, Flores, East Nusa Tenggara, Indonesia.

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Sirih pining, or betel nut, chewing, is a tradition that goes back thousands of years. Glad I tried it — but definitely not a fan. . .

After the welcoming ceremony, we are invited to eat betel nut (dipped in limestone powder crushed from local oysters), sip local arak palm wine (at 10 am!) and smoke home-grown, hand-rolled cigarettes. The former was not particularly appetizing, and happily, the small nibble that I took did not dye my teeth the dreaded red of the lifelong betel chewer.   The plant itself symbolizes humility, as it grows freely without damaging its host plant. It is believed to have medicinal effects from preventing tooth decay and ad breath to curing dysentery, intestinal worms, and scabies! It is actually the lime that causes tooth reddening. However, the delicious steamed purple rice cakes that followed more than offset this!

Then the entertainment began – for both them AND me. Each dance served a specific purpose – for example, highlighting the agility of a man and the skills of a woman preparing for marriage, or keeping villagers on track and high spirited during various stages of the harvest.

To my surprise they then dressed me in a beautiful sarong and blouse, explaining the significance of each. The longer the sleeves and the greater the number of bracelets, the older you are. Elderly women wear two sarongs, while others wear only one. Deeming me middle-aged (almost!), they present me with a three-quarters sleeve blue blouse, a red and blue woven sarong, and two bracelets.   (I would have been offered more bracelets had I been married/borne children, and I find my inner competitive streak inadvertently acting up!)

Then the fun / my abject humiliation begins. Resembling something between a beached whale, a dying hippopotamus, and a stampeding elephant, I emulate the graceful dancers in what can only be described as a sad parody. I rock the singing / yelling component of the performance though, and with great pride I am affirmed as a bona fide Watublapi! Happily, there are no other tourists (or worse yet, close friends/relatives of mine!) to witness this spectacle.

Next, I join two other tourists (who do not know what they had missed!) in watching the women of the village demonstrate how they harvest cotton, make natural dyes, spin thread and weave beautiful textiles using a traditional ikat method. Ikat means “to tie,” and in this process, individual threads are tied to create vibrant patterns before being immersed in dye pots, threaded onto a lap loom, and woven in into cloth.  This is not merely a demonstration for tourists, as textiles form a significant source of income for the village.

A cynic might describe the experience as “a tourist trap,” but there is genuine joy in the faces of the performers, an unfeigned solemnity to the ceremonies, and the barrels of unfettered belly laughs from the local children as they watch me try (and fail!) to emulate the grace of the dancers. The weavings are beautiful and truly one-of-a-kind, offered at reasonable prices given the labor-intensive process involved in creating each one. (I ended up walking out with two purchased weavings as well as a scarf and a woven thread bracelet gifted to me by my new BFF Karolina.

Our next stop is Koka Beach – also known locally as the “twin beach.” I am initially skeptical when in the parking area I am greeted by the unfortunately all-too-common Indonesia vista of piles of rubbish and smoky cook-outs. The local children cheerfully frolicking in the water are fun to watch though. But then Janny beckons to me. “Come this way,” he says. We cross an expanse of sand to an entirely new world. For the twin beach is a broad expanse of white sand and clear water with only a single lone fisherman in sight. The vista took my breath away. Though time is allotted for swimming, the idea of sitting in a wet swim suit for the remaining 3+ hour drive to Kelimutu is less than appealing. So I am happy to explore on foot, fully clothed, the untouched beauty of this secret corner.

Our last stop for the day is at the Lio village of Woloraru, primarily to take a look at the distinctive Lio architecture and motifs.  Woloraru is not a typical tourist village, and truth be told is strewn with litter and actually somewhat depressing.  It is a good chance to see distinctive Lio architecture up close, however, and one of the villagers kindly lets us enter her house to see how they live.

Finally, several podcasts later, we pull into the entrance of the Kelimutu Eco Lodge where we are greeted emphatically by a guard. “It’s the strangest thing,” says Janny. “A few weeks ago, he was in a terrible motorcycle crash which put him in a coma for a several days. Things looked hopeless. But then an MRI revealed a unique outline on his brain in the shape of Jesus Christ. The doctors said they had never seen anything like it. And the next day, he woke up and was fine!”   Though I am not sure what to make of this fact-meets-fiction tale, it is nevertheless a fascinating to consider, and serves as the perfect set up for the mystical regency of Ende and the haunting beauty of Mount Kelimutu.

Continue on to part three here.

Flores 101: How, Where, and Why to Go

Flores is my Indonesia swan song – my last major trip in the archipelago nation before heading back to the U.S. I’m just barely staying true to Weekend Crossroad’s philosophy, as between its immense size and still developing infrastructure, Flores requires considerably more a long weekend to explore properly. However, those with time constraints can always choose a couple of highlights to enjoy, as illustrated in the following multi-part Flores series. Alternatively, one can choose to take an 8-10 day overland trip from Maumere to Labuan Bajo, which covers roughly two-thirds of the island.

This is Part One of Eight.

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Flores’s iconic Manggarai spider web rice paddies in Cancar Village outside of Ruteng. Having hit them just after harvest time, they are a bit brown and barren — but remarkable all the same. The unique layout stems from an ancient system of subdividing ancestral plots, ensuring equality and even more importantly, fair access to scarce water for irrigation.

Information about traveling to Flores is surprisingly scant compared with that on other popular destinations in Indonesia, and as such, I’ve included more “helpful information” information here than in most other Weekend Crossroad posts which concentrate more on itineraries and stories

Flores for me was a land of interesting opposites. Hot days and cold nights, arid moonscapes and lush tropical forests, and bright sunlit plains and mist-shrouded mountains. The island has had many evocative names throughout history, beginning with a local word for snake, derived from the island’s shape and its winding roads, and ending today with a shortened form of Cabo Das Flores, or Cape of Flowers, commemorating the initial impressions of 16th century Portuguese spice traders. Even today, many names bear witness to the island’s colonial history. Ende, for example, is a bastardization of the Dutch word Einde, as the town once demarcated the easternmost boundary of the Dutch-controlled western part of Flores.

East Nusa Tenggara province, of which Flores forms a part, is one of Indonesia’s poorest regions. Offering very few economic opportunities aside from fishing/subsistence farming and tourism, Flores is definitely among the poorest of the poor. The few cash crops of coffee, cocoa, cloves, vanilla, and cashews are shipped out in raw form, with almost no processing facilities on the island to add greater value and increase economic gains. Many families cannot even afford basic school fees, and one is immediately struck by the number of idle young men and joyfully scampering children hanging out in the streets, not to mention the plethora of graffiti (some of which is quite, er, colorful. . .)

Due to Portuguese colonialism, East Nusa Tenggara is the only predominantly Catholic province in Indonesia. Flores itself is 85% Roman Catholic, with the remaining  Muslim minority originally hailing from Sumba and Sulawesi and primarily settled along the coastline. Indeed, if training missionaries were an economic activity, this would be a significant contributor to the island’s income.  What I found most interesting, however, was how easily traditional beliefs (from animal sacrifice to spiritual healing) were interwoven with the newer faith systems – and how readily this was accepted all around. Is tradition the magic thread that has kept Flores as one of the few areas in Indonesia never to experience religious tensions? (A fact to which my guide frequently and proudly referred – and rightly so!)

This is especially interesting in light of the fact that Flores and its people are, by nature, divided. Anthropologists believe that the line of both active and extinct volcanoes traversing the island led to the creation of pockets of distinct cultures.  Today, there are five primary ethnic/linguistic groups in Flores, unified by the national language of Bahasa Indonesia. In my 10-day journey, I was fortunate to interact with four of these groups:

  • the Manggarai (West Flores)

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    Woman and child pick coffee on a plantation in Wae Rebo Village.

Best known for their striking spider rice paddies (which can still be found near Ruteng), the Manggarai maintain a strong focus on unity, which is reflected in everything from their circular architecture and village layout to strong, enduring clan bonds. The Manggarai believe that their ancestors hailed from Sumatra.

  • the Ngada (Bajawa and environs)

    A woman watches passers by in Bena Village.

Unlike most social groups in Indonesia, the Ngada are matrilineal, meaning that children are considered to be members of their mother’s clan. Ancient Ngada society was organized according to strict hierarchical classes, and their village houses are set up in two parallel lines.

  • the Lio (Ende and environs)

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    Boat motif  at the entrance of the house of of the mosalaki, or clan leader.

The Lio remain some of Flores’ most spiritual / superstitious people, with a strong belief in good and bad spirits, and a vibrant afterlife. (Today, these practices have been incorporated into broader Muslim / Catholic beliefs.) Believing that their ancestors hailed from India, the Lio prominently feature boat symbols in their architecture and weaving to commemorate their long journey.

  • the Sikka (Maumere, Central Flores)

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    Karolina, a Watublapi village elder, inducts me into the ways of her people, dressing me in the  traditional outfit for a middle-aged woman.

Renowned for their intricate ikat weaving (I definitely fell under the spell and walked out of Watublapi Village with more than I entered with!), the Sikka today are divided into two main groups – the Tana ‘Ai and the Sikka-Krowe, through historically they were much more loosely structured than other ethnic groups in Flores. The Sikka-Krowe historically had the most interaction with foreign, er, visitors? invaders? conquerors? and were among the earliest people to convert to Catholicism under the Portuguese.

TRAVEL TIPS

How to Get There

  • By Plane:

Screen Shot 2015-06-02 at 10.57.11 PMDenpasar Bali’s Nugrah Rai Airport is probably the easiest launching point for Flores, where tiny propeller planes (often on rather dubious budget airlines) land several times a day in both Labuan Bajo (1 hour flight) and Maumere (1 hour 45 minutes flight). As of this writing, Garuda also offers limited flights to Labuan Bajo, but at a significantly steeper cost.  Intra island flights also stop at Ende, Bajawa, Ruteng and Larantuka.

  • By Sea:

A number of operators offer tourist boat trips to Flores from Bali and Lombok. It is critical to go with a recommended provider as some boats have dubious safety records and don’t even have basic equipment like life jackets or radios.

  • By Bus/Ferry

Screen Shot 2015-06-02 at 10.58.24 PM Those seeking a real adventure can take a 2-3 day bus/ferry trip from Bali to Labuan Bajo, but this is not a recommended option – particularly when the seas are choppy.

When to Go

Given the generally poor state of infrastructure and the significant amount of trekking required to reach some of the island’s most stunning attractions, travel during the dry season (April-October) is typically best. Note that those traveling towards the end of the season will be greeted with an arid, almost desert-like climate/atmosphere and a lot of dust!

What to Bring (besides the obvious!)

  • Cash You can easily stock up at ATMs/money changers in larger towns like Labuan Bajo, Maumere, Ende and Ruteng – however, smaller towns often don’t have ATMs that accept international cards, and outside of Labuan Bajo it is nearly impossible to use a credit or debit card for purchases. Even if you’re on an “all inclusive” package, extra cash for souvenirs and additional food and beverages is always good to have on hand.
  • Warm Clothing (waterproof jacket, sweatshirts/sweaters, and long pants)  Having been lulled into a false sense of complacency by other so-called “cold places” I’ve visited in Indonesia (Mount Bromo, Lake Toba, etc.) where I definitely overpacked/dressed, I was dismayed to realize just how cold some parts of Flores can get at night. (I could even see my breath in Bajawa, whose temperatures sank to a less-than-balmy 11 degrees centigrade at night.)
  • Extra Clothing and/or Items That Dry Quickly  I generally advocate travelling light. In Flores, however, unless you’re lucky enough to travel at a leisurely pace, you will likely not stay more than a night at any destination. With many stops dropping to practically frigid temperatures, you will not have adequate time to dry your laundry before taking off. And between high temperatures during the day and creepy-crawlies at night, trust me that you will want to change your clothing frequently!
  • Camping-esque Supplies  For long stretches of time, you will find yourself in a literal wilderness without easy access to food, potable water, electricity, and phone/data signal. Not to mention toilets. A good guide will pace your stops out for supply runs of food and snacks (and bathroom breaks!), and in my experience this is one instance where it is better to overestimate your need for drinking water than underestimate. Toilet paper/tissues/wet wipes also come in extremely handy (though traveling anywhere in Asia this should be a given!) Most hotels do not offer shampoo, and some don’t even offer soap, meaning that a toiletry kit is essential. A “power bank” for charging electronics on long electricity-less stretches plus a car adapter for mobile phone charging can be a godsend. And a flashlight is essential for navigating unlit roads/paths, as well as reading after the electricity generators are shut off at 10pm aboard boats and in more remote locations such as Wae Rebo.
  • A Sarong and/or Towel (or pick one up along the way)  If you are really going off the beaten path and staying one of the many traditional villages which offer rustic homestay options, you may find yourself faced with communal or open bathing situations where modesty coverings are a must. I also recommend packing more than one swim suit – again due to the slow drying time – as it is especially nasty (in my opinion) to squelch around in a wet bathing suit.
  • Entertainment  Happily I had downloaded a bunch of podcasts and TV shows prior to leaving Jakarta, and brought along three books, which I continuously swapped out at various tourists stops along the way when I had finished reading them. There is a LOT of down time in Flores – not a bad thing in the slightest – but unlike other areas, with no book stores and weak wifi signals (assuming wifi is available at all), you’re basically stuck with what you bring. Zoning out to my favorite music and NPR’s “Wait Wait Don’t Tell Me” helped me deal with the worst of both car and sea sickness (though happily for the most parts the waters were extremely calm.)

Getting Around:

  • Allow Extra Time Cushions

One of the most challenging things to do is to determine how long it will take to get from Point A to Point B. Any GPS-based map or navigation estimate is completely useless as it will fail to take into account the state of some of the more remote roads, the extra distance required to snake one’s way across winding mountain roads, the reality that landslides can cause sudden road closures, and the fact that you will frequently have to slow down to a crawl whenever two vehicles are simultaneously navigating the narrow roads.

  • Consider Hiring the Same Guide and/or Driver for the Length of your Stay

While I typically avoid tour operators like the plague, travelling solo in Flores, it seemed to me to be the most practical option. On the road (literally!) I met numerous adventurous types braving the treacherous, steep, pitted and curving mountain roads on scooter, as well as a few even braver souls endeavoring to make the journey by bus. But no other solo travellers.  Most people, even more seasoned adventure travelers, elected to go the same route as I. It was definitely considerably more expensive to have both a guide and a driver, but worth it for the hassles and headaches I saved. It was also nice being able to set my own pace (quite literally on the 10 km uphill trek to Wae Rebo village!) and make last minute itinerary changes based on my interests or external environmental factors.

  • Navigate Labuan Bajo on Your Own

In Labuan Bajo, if you are not staying in the city center, it is easy enough to flag down a car or a motorcycle for a quick local ride, or to arrange a driver for day / overnight trips. Most hotels also offer free rides to the airport. Maumere, Bajawa and other “major” cities have local drivers willing to negotiate a set fee for day trips, as well as motorbike rental.

  • Motorbike Tips

Those hoping to rent a motorbike in Labuan Bajo for their self-guided overland adventure should know that only experienced bikers should take this option – and never ride alone. Also, due to a rising incidence of tourists abandoning their rented bikes (e.g., leaving them in Maumere rather than returning them to Labuan Bajo), there are fewer and fewer rental places, and those that remain can often have a waiting list for days. (Even the best plans are frequently waylaid in Flores, so rental operators seldom ask for a fixed “return by” date.) Prices also seem to change at random – one place offering motorbikes for IDR 50,000/day one week would accept no less than IDR 65,000 the next. Finally, note that a 100 cc engine is fine for local joyriding but will not be able to handle the steep mountain roads. Gas stations can be oddly spaced out, but little mom and pop operations sell gas by the liter out of old mineral water bottles. (Note that some less scrupulous vendors have been known to mix water into the petrol – never a pleasant outcome.)   While road signs are abysmal to non-existent –the locals are very friendly and welcoming and generally will point you in (roughly) the right direction.

Food: A Resounding “Meh”

With visions of Macanese-style Portuguese-Chinese fusion cuisine in mind (to this day I firmly believe that the pork chop bun is one of the best snacks of all time), I was eager to sample the delights of Flores cuisine, which I imagined to be the best of Indonesia, Portugal, and Holland on a plate. And, I was soon disavowed of this notion. In Flores, I consumed some of the least palatable food I’ve eaten in all of Indonesia. Didn’t think it was possible to mess up nasi goreng? Neither did I. Until I came to Flores.   Bafflingly, few of the restaurants deemed hygienic enough for tourists serve local fare – instead they offer various takes on the same tired menus – fried rice, fried noodles, fried chicken and pseudo-Chinese style seafood and vegetable dishes. The notable exception was Lucas Café, a restaurant in Bajawa where I gluttonously devoured pork satay and mixed tofu and tempe in fresh tomato sauce – both local specialties that were absolutely delicious.

The best local food I had outside of Lucas Café was in the most unexpected places – a fresh fish grill on one of the 17 Islands, simple home-cooked fare on my overnight Komodo/Rinca boat, and a simple but tasty communal village meal in Wae Rebo.

By the time I arrived in Labuan Bajo I was ecstatic to discover some of the best pizza I’ve eaten in Indonesia at the aptly-named MadeInItaly, and a lovely barracuda carpaccio at its neighbor and rival, Mediterraneo. After a week of drinking instant coffee – an unforgivable sin in my book in one of Indonesia’s most renowned coffee-growing regions – I was almost brought to tears upon stumbling into Café In Hit, which offers not only first rate espresso-based drinks, but even more importantly, a free book exchange which serves as my lifeline as I found myself stranded for 3 additional days due to the unexpected eruption of Mount Raung in East Java and resulting airport closures. I even managed to find a decent burger (my best cure for homesickness) at the Lounge and enjoy coffee with a view at Cucina. (Having this unexpectedly elongated stay in Labuan Bajo, I had ample time to eat my way through the small downtown strip!)

Accommodation: “Expensively Rustic”

Having stayed at perfectly lovely hotels across Java for less than US$30/night – we’re talking clean linens, a/c, hot water, the works – I experienced significant sticker shock in Flores. This was not too big a deal, until I found myself faced with the prospect of being stuck in Labuan Bajo for an unplanned (and unbudgeted!) extended stay due to flight cancellations across the entire region (East Java, Bali, Lombok, and Flores). Thanks for nothing, Mount Raung! You just HAD to erupt now. . . I managed to plead my 3 star hotel in Labuan Bajo down to IDR 700.000 a night (half the rack rate), but still could feel the dollar signs adding up. Though pricey, at least these accommodations were pleasant.

Elsewhere in Flores, I found myself facing cold water showers even in frigid temperatures, and being eaten alive by mosquitoes. Riung was the worst of the lot.   (Well, I guess technically Wae Rebo was worse – but it was so charming that nobody cared!) But with the right expectations and a good sense of adventure, it’s still an unforgettable journey. And most travelers recommend ending your journey in Labuan Bajo, where decent (if pricey) lodging and good food abound.

But when all is said and done, you most certainly have an unforgettable trip ahead of you – and I highly recommend the journey. More details on specific destinations in Flores to follow soon!

Continue on to part two here.

 

Malta: A Tiny Slice of Heaven at the Crossroads of Culture

I’ve mentioned in other posts that my trip to Malta sprang from one of my core travel philosophies – if you know someone in an interesting, far away place that you might never otherwise have occasion to visit, pack your bags and go for it. October, 2007 was an interesting time to be in the archipelago nation. (Rather than being a single island as is commonly believed, Malta is actually comprised of three inhabited islands and a number of smaller, rocky outcrops). The country was frantically preparing for further assimilation into the EU, with unmanned Schengen immigration counters already set up at the Malta International Airport, and a countdown clock by Valetta’s City Gate marking the days, hours, and minutes until the Euro would be officially adopted. (Frankly, I was delighted to still be able to use the Maltese lira!) Note that this adventure is eight years old – but general itinerary items should still be doable!

As my plane descends, I find myself faced with scenery unlike any I’ve ever seen before. Yellow walls and grey walks rocks with only the slightest hint of scrubby vegetation extend as far as the eye can see.   The sea is a beautiful and almost mysterious shade of deep blue. And I can see the entire island nation from the sky!

Theme I: A Tale of Two Cities

Mdina

As the only person with Asian features in the airport I am highly amused by the fact that I spot my friends Greg and Marco – who look almost exactly like everyone else – before they see me. A diplomat well-versed in the perils of jet lag, Marco sits firmly in the “fight through it” camp.   Plunking my luggage in the trunk, he heads straight for Mdina, the Silent City.

Almost entirely carless, Mdina is the perfect place to lose yourself, meandering through narrow alleys for a couple of hours. We briefly pop into St. Paul’s Cathedral, built on the spot where then governor and now Maltese saint Publius allegedly met St. Paul after he was shipwrecked on Malta. We also visit Palazzo Falson, a wonderfully preserved medieval palace. Noting that I am flagging after a couple of hours soaking up the admittedly marvelous atmosphere, he marches our trio to a small café, where we met up with some of their friends. (I discover throughout the trip that it is almost impossible to go anywhere on the island without bumping into at least one person you know!)

Dining at home with Greg, Marco, and some of their friends, I alternate devoting all of my energy trying not to fall asleep on my plate with peppering the local Maltese experts with all sorts of questions about the seemingly impossible, consonant-filled Maltese language, and the intersection of Arab, Roman, and English cultures.

Valetta

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Maltese buses! If you watch the movie Munich, you’ll notice these buses in the background in “Jerusalem” and “Rome”

The next morning, Greg and I hop on a wonderfully quaint orange Malta bus (sadly but perhaps practically discontinued in 2011) to Valetta.  Our first stop is St. John’s Co-Cathedral, quite possibly the most beautiful and ornate house of worship I have ever seen. And that is really saying something given my lifetime of travel across the globe.

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My little “point and shoot” camera does not do this amazing architectural work of art justice. . .

I am surprised to discover that I am absolutely FASCINATED by the Knights of Malta – or more accurately, the Sovereign Hospitaller Order of the Knights of St. John of Jerusalem, of Rhodes and of Malta. One of the reasons that the church is so over-the-top amazing is that each group of knights tried to outdo the next through ever expanding contributions. The talented but hot-headed Caravaggio also had a rather checkered history on the island.

 

We head to Valetta’s Church of Saint Paul’s Shipwreck (I’m learning that this maritime disaster is a BIG deal in Malta!). While there is no comparison from a grand aesthetic/architectural point of view – it’s a truly lovely example of traditional Maltese baroque architecture and is both calm and inviting.

We stroll through the Upper Barrakka Gardens where we enjoy stunning panoramic views of the Grand Harbor. Greg jokes that we have missed the Saluting Battery, and says that for some reason he always seems to arrive minutes too late. While it would have been cool to see, I must admit that I greatly enjoy the peace.

We end the day browsing among local artisans making filigree jewelry on Republic street – and being me, I can’t resist picking up a pair of silver earrings to adorn myself and commemorate the trip.

Theme II: Megalithic Marvels

The Hypogeum of Ħal-Saflieni (severe claustrophobes beware)

Greg and Marco are good friends and have booked my admission to the Hypogeum of Ħal-Saflieni in advance (a MUST as daily admissions are strictly limited to reduce the impact on the fragile environment). The aptly-named Hypogeum (Greek for underground) is at once incredibly cool (both literally and figuratively!) and somewhat creepy (it is a necropolis after all!) While it is not known exactly when the structure was built, historians’ estimates range from 4000-3000 BC. The tour is a bit rushed, but certainly interesting – particularly when you consider how old it is! While I am generally not one for random knickknacks, something about the prone image of the rotund and wonderfully detailed Sleeping Lady of Ħal-Saflieni speaks to me, and I pick up a replica at the gift shop.

Megalithic Temple

230427_8032117535_4427_nWe begin at the Tarxien temples, site of 4 temples built between 3600 and 2500 BC. Marco explains that as a child he and his friends would play among the giant “rocks” without realizing their historic significance. I am amazed at how well preserved some of the relief sculptures are, given their age. Our special next stop is Hagar Qim “Close your eyes,” said Marco with a gleam in his eye. Gently taking me by the shoulders, he guides me to a nondescript rock. Bending my knees down to “just the right angle,” he explains that this was the exact vantage point that a renowned National Geographic photographer chose to capture the UNESCO World Heritage Sites, in all its glory. (Note, some of the megalithic temple sites have been closed for renovation at various times over the past few years, so do comprehensive research first to avoid disappointment!) At the temple site of Mnajdra, my friend Greg proudly poses for me to provide perspective – either he is really tall (which he isn’t. . .) or, more accurately, the megalithic peoples were vertically challenged! It is humbling to realize the lasting accomplishments of these long-gone civilizations from millennia ago, and one can’t help but wonder what, if any, impact we will leave for the future.

Theme III: Color in Nature

230222_8032097535_3471_nI mentioned being struck by colors at the beginning of this post – and indeed, my sensory exploration continued during the latter part of my trip. The Blue Grotto, a sea cave on the southern coast of Malta, was one such place. Now while one might im225702_8031917535_6475_nagine the water itself to provide the luminescent blue tinge, but it is in fact the pure white sand that lends the area its unique hue. And it’s not just the water. The cave itself is home to a veritable rainbow of colors – from bright mineral yellows and oranges to deep purples, and a variety of submerged fauna.

Ghajn TuffiehaWe end the day with some relaxation at Għajn Tuffieħa beach, a quiet beach and steep hike down to a crescent shaped promontory that is TOTALLY worth it – especially at sunset. Enjoying our relaxed states, we proceed to an outdoor restaurant at The Three Cities to enjoy first hand Malta’s maritime history coming to life.

Believe it or not I never made it to Gozo, a much less developed island that is renowned for its own charms. No worries though – it provides me an EXCELLENT reason to return. . .

Transit Adventures: Planes, Trains, and Automobiles

Any particular trip can be defined by the actual journeys you take. Whether it is simply the act of getting to your intended destination or the mad rush to book a driver for a reasonable price. we tend to find that it is these that define the story of travel. So in the spirit of this, Jennifer and Mark have decided to take time out from our normal ramblings about weekends away, and list some of our most memorable travel transportation experiences.

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Making a rapid escape from apologizing to my better half at Humayun’s Tomb, New Delhi, India

Screen Shot 2015-06-02 at 10.57.11 PMOrdos to Beijing  (2013)

Ordos, Inner Mongolia, has had plenty written about it.  A ghost city of much beauty in the middle of nowhere, Ordos an apt symbol for the modern real estate development of China. Yet, it is also an airport, a beautiful airport, connected to the truly awful Nanyuan Airport in Beijing.

Nanyuan Airport is a tiny old military base on the southern outskirts of Beijing that is hard to get to and even harder to get away from at the wrong time of night.

They also regularly cancel both departing and arriving flights for no apparent reason. Hence, in 2013 Mark found himself stuck in Ordos following a “short” work trip after flight cancellation upon cancellation. The stated reason – rain; the real reason; no one really knew. Anyway, countless flight cancellations, fifty international journalists baying for blood, and a thirteen hour coach ride from the city next to Ordos, ensured this was a trip to remember for all the wrong reasons.  But time heals all wounds, right?

And of course, if you want to read about one of Jennifer’s flight nightmares, you can find it here.

Screen Shot 2015-06-02 at 10.57.48 PMPart I:  Rishikesh – Delhi – Rajasthan (2012)

Mark’s girlfriend is a fantastic traveler. Traveled way more extensively than he has, and often does it without a complaint. However, she is also highly keen to make the most of every moment of every trip and this can lead to friction.

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Train journeys in India are absolutely worth it. Mark enjoys wide expanse of western-India.

Mark and Quint caught a train from Rishikesh to Delhi, which lasted for over ten hours. Once in Delhi they had two or so hours to spare before the next even longer train journey to Rajasthan. He wanted to rest, and she wanted to see a world heritage site (she is admirably trying to see them all.  As in every single one on the globe.) She won. They went to the wrong tomb. Mark sulked. They pretended to smile in pictures. Finally, they found Humayun’s Tomb, the centuries old resting place of Mughal Emperor Humayun. She won again because it is truly spectacular.

This is a central to the Weekend Crossroad philosophy and something we will explore more extensively in future posts.  Why sit around an airport or train lounge when there are more adventures to be had?  (Read about things to do in a layover in Frankfurt here.)

Part II:  Kanyakumari – Thiruvananthapuram (Now we know why they still call it Trivandrum!) 

Meanwhile, two years later, Jennifer was determined to overcome the reported horrors of train travel in India (mostly shared by her Indian friends!)  As a global traveler from the age of 6, Jennifer was not prepared to be daunted in the slightest by the prospect of booking a ticket.  Until faced with the Indian Rail website.  And many, many other challenges.  So like any savvy traveler, Jennifer and her friend Pete sought the kind assistance of a travel expert — an innkeeper in Kochi, Kerala, who kindly helped them to purchase two first class tickets between Kanyakumari, Tamil Nadu and Trivandrum.  Pete and Jennifer noted the distance between the train station and their hotel, inquired as to how long in advance they should arrive at the station, and organized an auto rickshaw ride, and were all set.  Or were they.

Greeted by emphatic head shakes at the local train station, Jennifer and Pete were baffled as to why their tickets were not accepted — and why their train was not listed on the schedule.  Finally, a kind English-speaking soul explained that in fact, they were at the wrong train station.  They could either try to grab a trishaw and rush to the right station (standing a good chance of missing the train) or purchase a new ticket to Trivandrum.  Looking at each other, both decided to opt for the new ticket — especially upon realizing that the cost would be mere cents.  Then they learned why.

As the train choked and struggled up to the platform and a chaotic mad dash of humanity ensued (where DID all these people come from?  They could have sworn that there were not this many people in the station!), Jennifer and Pete helplessly looked around for a place to sit.  Jennifer seriously considered abandoning Pete for the calmer looking women-only car, or hiding in the baggage car, but was soon convinced by Pete that this was NOT in the spirit of weekend crossroad adventure.  They happened across a nice local family who somehow managed to squeeze 1.5 seats out for our two hapless travelers.  Then Pete and Jennifer learned why their tickets were so cheap.

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Jennifer and fellow wanderer Pete explore the southern-most tip of the subcontinent in Tamil Nadu. Their new friends help take a rather cramped selfie on third class rail in South India.

First, there was no air conditioning.  Indeed, there was barely any air circulating in the cramped car.  Sitting as closely as possible to the window (designed in typical “prison chic” manner with iron bars across it), they managed to get a small breeze.  And noticed that in addition to climbing to no more than approx. 40 km an hour, the train stopped at EVERY town, village, and crossing along the way.

But then fantastic things happened.  First, the slow pace enabled them to take in the sights in a way that could never have happened at 100+ km/hr.  Second, Jennifer was proudly able to take off her “princess prima donna” label for a day.  And third, practically ready to gnaw each others’ arms off with hunger upon finally pulling into Trivandrum station, the two discovered a wondrously eccentric and charming coffee house where they enjoyed a scrumptious (and cheap!) lunch.

The lesson?  Sometimes mistakes can lead to the best, unexpected adventures.

Pingyao to Beijing (2008)

Traveling on the wonderfully efficient high speed trains between the major Chinese metropolises (metropoli?) of Bejing, Tianjin, Nanjing, and Shanghai, it’s hard to believe that in the not-so-distant past, train travel in China was something between an adventure and a game of chance.  In 2007 it was impossible to purchase a round trip train ticket between any two Chinese destinations — you had to purchase a one way ticket to your destination — and upon arrival, immediately queue up for a return ticket.  In theory, this system worked.  Unless, like Jennifer and her friend Amy, you chose to travel during a major national holiday (in this case, the October “golden week” celebrating China’s National Day.

Ever adventurous, Jennifer and Amy decided it would be fun to take a day trip (involving two overnight train rides) to the ancient city of Pingyao, in the coal-rich (and highly polluted) Shanxi province.  They would take a hardsleeper train to Pingyao, arriving in the early morning, and spend the day exploring the walled city before catching another evening train back to Beijing where they would enjoy a lazy Sunday before heading back to work the following Monday.  What a great plan!  Amy, who is Caucasian, good-naturedly put up with the ceaseless curiosity of our fellow passengers, and being the more experienced Chinese train traveler of the two, made sure that they were second in line for the return tickets.  (Chinese trains kindly awake you with a loud PA fanfare before you arrive, bleary-eyed, at your destination.)  Money in hand, they approached the ticket window, only to  be told that all trains – to anywhere — were sold out until the following week.

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Outside the city wall.

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Inside the city wall.

Realizing that there was nothing that they could do, Amy and Jennifer proceeded to the historic city center and wandered around.  Despite the grey skies and the air so thick with smog that they could taste it, they were taken with the somewhat decrepit charm of the town, particularly when taken in from the top of the city wall.

1930760_36607677535_1771_nBy early afternoon they had circumnavigated the major sites and enjoyed a lunch of local steamed dumplings.  And realized that it was time to figure out how to get home.  Speaking to a local farmer, they learned that the local bus station was not too far away.  Climbing into his donkey cart, they headed for the terminal, where they were able to purchase tickets to Taiyuan, the provincial capital.  From there, they would catch a cab to the inter-province bus station and catch an overnight bus to Beijing.  Not their preferred mode of transport, but at least it would get them home.

Cramming onto a jumper seat in a mini-bus, Jennifer found herself seated between a crate containing a live (and vociferous!) chicken, and the “old woman with the bag of seemingly never ending odoriferous food” — and braced herself for a bumpy 2 hour ride.

In Taiyuan, Jennifer and Amy finally made it to the inter-province bus station, to find a scene of utter chaos.  Elbowing their way to the front of the line in true local fashion, they amazingly managed to get the two last tickets for the overnight bus to Beijing.  Around them, people in the same boat as they were yelling and crying.  But they were triumphant!  Heading outside, Jennifer spotted a travel agent.  On a whim, she popped in to see if there were any flights to Beijing that night.  Amazingly, there were.  So for around  US $50 apiece, they found a much easier way home.

What to do with the bus tickets?  Heading back to the terminal, they looked for the most “worthy” looking candidate.  They spotted  young man sitting calmly, but dejectedly, in a corner and asked him what was wrong.  He and his son needed to get back to Beijing urgently, but there were no tickets left.  So they were going to sit in the station until a place on a bus opened up.  Jennifer and Amy then sold him their tickets at cost, and with mouth agape and tears in his eyes, he accepted them.  Heading to a nearby McDonald’s to drown their sorrows and stress in junk food, they agreed that that was the highlight of their trip.

As the plane touched down at Beijing’s Capital International Airport, Jennifer reflected on how lucky she was to have options — to have both the means and the ability to jump on a last minute flight, while others had to struggle so much to get from Point A to Point B.  And she was immensely grateful.

Screen Shot 2015-06-02 at 10.58.24 PMChiang Mai to Bangkok (2002)

In 2002, Mark and his then girlfriend were traveling around Thailand with her sister. For their journey from Chiang Mai to Bangkok they booked themselves onto a 13-hour bus journey.

The journey was terrifying. Not only was it on mountain passes and in the pitch black, but the bus appeared to have little or no breaks. Speeding up as it went around corners hoping physics would do its part.

One particular stand out moment was pulling into the gas station, Mark and his fellow international travelers demanding to be let off and the bus driver and his associate refusing. Another bus pulled up next to them, full of Chinese tourists.  To this day Mark wonders what was going through their heads as they were met with thirty or so people banging against the windows of another bus, clearly petrified. But then Mark’s bus pulled off, never to see them again.

Upon reaching Bangkok, everyone all left the coach without saying a word — too stunned, even to express gratitude for being alive despite all the odds.

Do  you have any transit experiences to share?

Lake Toba: Relaxation and A Tale of Two Beginnings

At the first glimpse of Lake Toba on the winding road to Parapat, one can be forgiven for momentary confusion — is this Indonesia or Switzerland?! Dark blue waters, green hills, and an assortment of church steeples (the Bataks indigenous to the area are predominantly Christian) greet the eye.  Upon reaching the ferry port at Parapat, however, you are undisputedly in Indonesia, with motor bikes, Padang canteens, and a warm and friendly chaos taking over your senses.

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Shameless ferry selfie

I am drawn to the region after no fewer than four jungle excursions in the past month, and look forward to relaxing in a more temperate climate for first time in months.

There is no dearth of accommodation in Tuk Tuk, the main tourist area on Samosir Island — an “Island within in Island” located about an hour’s ferry ride from Parapat.  I’ve chosen the quirky and slightly more upscale Horas Family Home, where I am regaled by stories by the garrulous owner, indulge in not only home cooked, but also home grown/raised food (TOP RATE!!!), and float aimlessly on the lake.  I also enjoy hot showers and access to my own fridge — luxuries I will never take for granted again.

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There are many ways to grill a fish — Scenes from the Horas Family Home Fish Barbecue

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Nature’s spotlight — sun shines through the rain on a late afternoon on Lake Toba

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Paddleboarder and Fisherman cross paths along the southeastern bank of Samosir Island.

This turns out to be a good choice, for even though it is officially the beginning of the dry season in Northern Sumatra — Mother Nature has other plans.  I find the nightly rain drumming on the roof to be very soothing, but with the occasional afternoon squall, I also find myself grateful that there are not many more things to do in Lake Toba than relax.

On my first full day (coincidentally also the driest) I decide to venture out and explore the island.  A walk around Tuk Tuk takes about an hour — but 15 minutes in I cave to the heat and decide to rent a motor bike and helmet (at, I might add, twice the rate of bikes in Lombok!)  With only the most rudimentary of maps, and an occasionally confused Waze / Google Maps GPS combo, I venture out in search of the renowned “Ambarita Stone Chairs.”

While the Romans had thumbs up or thumbs down to determine gladiatorial fate, the pre-Christian Bataks had the stone chairs where they held council.  Whenever an enemy was captured or a local was accused of some misdeed, the elders would invite the rulers of neighboring villages to convene and determine the fate of the victim.  If deemed guilty, the poor soul would be rubbed with garlic and chilli, beheaded, and, er, savored.  (If you are “lucky” you can be selected as part of a “live demonstration” on site.) 

This sounded cool, if somewhat macabre.  I head in the general direction over some seriously steep and rocky roads, and quickly find myself spinning in circles thanks to Waze taking me off course.  (Asking for help is surprisingly useless, even in Indonesian.  For every person who told me to turn left — another would tell me to turn right.).  FINALLY I spot signs for “Famous Ambarita Stone Chairs”, and after parking the motorbike in a shady spot, dutifully sign the registration log and make an IDR 10,000 “donation.”

IMG_4278Climbing a steep, mossy (read, slippery!) staircase carved into the rocky outcrop, I snap pictures of the Batak statues and carvings along the way.   Upon reaching the top, I see no stone chairs in sight.  Could I have missed them?  Carefully making my way down again, I see a miniature set of stone chairs that could have comfortably seated a Council of Elders — were such council comprised of children or dolls.  And this looks NOTHING like the photos I’ve seen online.

IMG_4299 Feeling duped (but also feeling too foolish to confront the man at the registration hut), I get back on the bike and decide to wander a bit further.  Down the road, I see signs for “Huta Siallagan” — the ACTUAL stone chairs.  They are certainly more to scale, and an impressive sight to behold, but the fake Batak village and souvenir market somehow cheapen the overall experience.  So I find my earlier irritation fading, especially considering that as part of my earlier “donation” I was given a rather cute carved keychain as a souvenir.

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The not-so-real miniature stone chairs.

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The much more reasonably-sized stone chairs.

I gained three key takeaways from this little adventure (misadventure?).  First, given that this was the historical highlight of Samosir, I would not feel guilty for spending the rest of my stay taking in the scenery at my own, VERY SLOW pace.
Second, even though one was officially a mistake, I was quite happy to appreciate the two different sites from an aesthetic perspective, especially when not ascribing any particular historical importance to either. Third and most importantly, I realized that it was the story, more than the site, that appealed to me.  One of my favorite pastimes is to collect folk and fairy tales from around the world.  So, over the next sleepy couple of days in Lake Toba, I greatly enjoyed learning two tales of creation behind this very special place.

Version 1:  The Batak Legend of Samosir

Once upon a time, there was a young farmer named Toba. He lived in a fertile valley and while by far not a rich man, he was able to support himself by growing crops.

One day, Toba awoke with a craving for fish, and headed to a nearby river with his fishing pole in tow. The river was usually teeming with fish, but on that strange day, not a single one was in sight.  Just as he was preparing to leave (with great disappointment) he snared a big fish. As he slowly reeled it in, he was surprised to hear a voice pleading with him to let the fish go.  Looking around, he saw no one.  He then realized that the fish itself was speaking to him. 

Astounded, Toba released the fish back into the river.  Suddenly the fish transformed into beautiful young woman. The woman explained that she was actually a princess who had been cursed to live out her life as a fish. In gratitude to the young farmer for breaking her curse, the princess  said that she would happily become his wife under one condition — he must never tell a soul about her previous life as a fish.  If he did not heed this condition, she warned, a terrible tragedy would befall him. 

Toba and the princess were happily married, and soon after she gave birth to a baby boy, whom they named Samosir. Samosir had a tremendous appetite. In a perpetual state of hunger, he would devour all the food on the table without leaving his parents a single morsel to eat.

One day, Samosir was sent to bring food to his father who was busy working in the fields. Absentmindedly he began nibbling at the delicious meal that his mother had packed.  Toba was both famished and tired after a hard day’s work, but discovered that was no food left for him to eat. In a fit of rage, he lashed out at the boy, calling him a son of a fish.

Crying, Samosir ran home and asked his mother if he really was a son of a fish. Shocked and saddened, the princess told the boy to climb the to the top of the tallest tree on the hill behind their home.  Hurrying to the river bank where she and Toba first met, the princess suddenly disappeared.

The sky turned black as night, and thunder, lightning and heavy rain besieged the valley, causing a great flood.  The water levels continued to rise until the valley was no more — it had turned into a large lake.  The hill became an island, named after its sole survivor, Samosir.  Legend has it that Samosir is the father of the Batak people of North Sumatra.  Toba, the harbinger of disaster, is commemorated by the lake which today bears his name.  Of the princess, sadly, nothing remains. 

Version 2:  Science Stuff

Lake Toba and Samosir Island were formed after the eruption of a supervolcano some 75,000 years ago.  Due to its unique topology, Samosir is quite possibly the only place in the world where you can both stand on an island on an island (The island of Samosir in Lake Toba on the Island of Sumatra) and swim in a lake on a lake (Lake Sidihoni on Samosir on Lake Toba)

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Quick Facts

  • Lake Toba is the largest volcanic lake in the world, and is one of approximately 20 recognized “supervolcanoes” in the world.
  • The lake was formed after a massive eruption approximately 74,000 years ago, believed by scientists to be the largest volcanic eruption of the past 2.5 million years
  • Ash from the eruption has been found as far away as Lake Malawi, Africa
  • The Toba Catastrophe Theory posits that the last eruption was so severe that it led to an ice age, and wiped out most of our prehistoric ancestors in everywhere but Africa, creating a “genetic bottleneck” explaining the origins of the human race stemming from that continent.
  • However, the above theory is being increasingly discredited as new science comes to light
  • The North-South Sumatra fault line, which bisects Sumatra, runs through Mount Toba.
  • In theory, any activity along this fault line could trigger another Toba eruption.
  • Samosir is the largest island on an island, and the fifth largest lake island in the world
  • Samosir was originally a peninsula, connected to mainland Sumatra by a small isthmus

I think both versions are pretty interesting — which one do you prefer?

Kranji, the Wild West in Singapore

When I think of the Wild West two things spring to mind: the tiny period of American history that has somehow been blown up to be a cinematic staple … or the awful Will Smith film. You know the one: not funny, with the terrible CGI spidery thing, from back when Mr. Smith was a bankable star. Anyway, I digress.  I certainly do not think of Singapore. Yet recently I found myself chugging along on a bus to what is billed as the Wild West of Singapore – Kranji.

Now if you go to Kranji, leave the notion that this is some kind of remote outlawed land on your breakfast table. This is Singapore after all. There is no such thing as remote land. However, if you are in the mood to try something a little different and maybe see another side of Singapore that isn’t all Boat Quay and Orchard Road, then there are some things to recommend.

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Kranji Reservoir is much more than a beautiful vista. It is also a key source of water. Photo courtesy of PUB, Singapore’s National Water Agency.

Kranji countryside is essentially a farmland area in the Northwestern reservoirs of Singapore that is an MRT and bus ride away.  The bus, which only services the Kranji area, stops off at the six farmlands that participate in the Kranji Countryside Association.

“What does this mean?!?” I hear you scream. The association is essentially a collection of farms that welcome visitors and are accessible via this bus. While it says online that most of the other farms in the area do not receive guests, signs you pass along the way say otherwise. So I really think it depends.

If you only have time to visit one farm, I strongly recommend Bollywood Veggies.

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Does the warrior attack the platter? Or does the platter attack the warrior?

Bollywood Veggies is a truly wonderful place. Their farmland is beautiful and allows for a very interesting and educational tour of all the things they grow. There is also a fantastic café in the middle.  (Try a glorious dish called the “Warriors Platter” and their particularly good banana cake.) If you are lucky and it is not too busy, Dillon, one of the owners, will dust off his guitar and play any song you could possibly think of. We could not recommend this place more highly.

There are a couple of key things to consider before embarking on this trip.  First, the bus only comes every hour-and-a-half, so once you get dropped off at a particular farm, you are stuck there for a good while. This is not so bad if you plan carefully. But be warned: some stops are far more interesting than the others. The goat farm left a lot to be desired, bar the fresh milk which is highly recommended. (Bring a cooler and a book, perhaps?)  The bullfrog breeding farm was OK, but did very much feel like the end of the line.

Second, the fact that you are tied to the bus stops means getting to other parts of the area can be difficult. We were told the fish farm in the southern part of Kranji is beautiful and truly worth visiting, but without one’s own transport it is a no go. Note to the Association: bike hire is the way forward because the area really feels like a different country.  In the meantime, for other business travelers, Uber is always a good option.

Kranji countryside is definitely worth the trip if you plan carefully — especially for those who are tired of the urban jungle.  Weekend Crossroad’s recommended itinerary:

Begin with a midmorning visit to the Kranji War Memorial, billed as the largest of its kind in Asia.  Next, catch the bus in time for a leisurely lunch at Bollywood Veggies.  Finally, end your visit at the Kranji wetlands (the last stop on the bus route before the MRT). Even to locals who “know” Singapore, Kranji feels like a totally different world.  Moreover, it proves that if you lift the lid on this city-state, you can find something truly unique.

Launchpad Chicago: A Weekend in Springfield, IL

Happy Presidents Day (Feb 16!) to my American readers!  Rather than buying a new  car or mattress, I thought I’d share a post about the bailiwick of one of our most famous presidents — Abraham Lincoln.

Chicago, the U.S.’s “Second City” is frequently overshadowed by its more renowned elder cousin, New York and is sometimes snidely referred to as “flyover country” by people shuttling from coast to coast.  But while the Windy City is worth its own post (or several), I thought I’d focus on a place that few people outside of the State of Illinois consider — Springfield, the heart of Abraham Lincoln country and a place that is not only the seat of State government, but also a place where living history is suspended in time.

My close friends know that despite holding a driver’s license for two decades or so, I’ve acceded to my inner cheapskate envrionmentalist and vowed not to own a car for as long as I can. (My next milestone is 40 years old and looks promising so far.)  But one of the challenging things about living in the Midwest is that while Chicago’s public transportation is excellent (between bus, “El” and commuter train you can pretty much get to anywhere from anywhere), to explore further environs, you need to drive.  But one Columbus Day  (one of the U.S.’s many three -day weekends) I realized that Springfield – an approx. four train ride away — was a perfect destination.

One of the best things about Springfield is that EVERYTHING is walkable.  Even my hotel, the State House Inn, was only two blocks away from the train station (and smack in the middle of Springfield’s historic attractions.)

If you’re not a big walker, Springfield Mass Transportation offers a convenient historic sites bus route where a $3 day pass allows you unlimited rides on public buses that run 15- 30 minutes apart.

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Transit map courtesy of Springfield Mass Transit District accessed from http://www.smtd.org/pdf/historical.pdf in February, 2015.

For a weekend trip, I recommend catching a Friday evening train out of Chicago’s Union station to maximize your time.  Trains are frequently delayed because passenger trains vie for track space with massive freight cars, but there is a lot to read up on during your journey!  Here’s an easy to do weekend itinerary.

Day 1

Start the day with a visit to the Old State Capitol.  This hallowed is site of the famous Lincoln-Douglas debates that were instrumental in cementing Abraham Lincoln’s position in the national political scene, as well as his passionate “A House Divided” speech.  Thirty-minute guided tours provide an excellent overview of how politics worked (and looked) in the mid-19th century.

Cross the plaza and pop into the Lincoln-Herndon Law Offices which are overlooked by many tourists.  (They appear to be closed at present for renovations — which is a good reminder to double check all opening hours and closures before trying one of my itineraries!)

Browse among the many small shops for souvenirs, “olde tyme” candies, or anything else that strikes your fancy.

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Image courtesy of the Wall Street Journal and an interesting article about the history of the horseshoe by Joe Barrett.

Those with fearless arteries should stop in for a horseshoe sandwich (an original Springfield creation) at one of the many eateries near the Old Capitol.  (For those of you who are Canadian or familiar with the Quebecois delicacy, think poutine on crack. . .)   Sadly, as the horseshoe is a 20th century creation, Honest Abe never got to indulge. . .   And for those of you who find several thousand miles between you and the nearest horseshoe, you can feast your eyes on the WSJ article here.

Next up is the Illinois State Capitol (note, this link is not the official website but provides much interesting history) which many believe is one of the most beautiful legislative buildings in the U.S. (It’s not that I disagree — but my sample size at present is too small to compare with!)  A 30 minute guided tour allows access to areas that are otherwise closed to the public.  Visitors are permitted to observe the State House and Senate when they are in session (sadly I went during a holiday so I missed this opportunity.)  Tour times change by season so check in advance to see what times are offered.  Also be prepared for security screenings in advance of your tour so you are not late.

Lincoln Home National Historic Site (Book in advance!)  These  tours are very popular, so it is highly recommended that you book in advance.  In my case I just walked over to the visitor center in the morning and secured a free ticket for the late afternoon.   Tiny by today’s standards and at $1,200 highly affordable as well!  On a side note I kind of geeked out here wondering how much this was in today’s dollars – turns out it’s more complicated than you might think!  But still well within my budget unlike today’s property market!  The site includes several other restored homes — and one of my personal favorite things was the bookstore at the visitor center.  If you have the time, it’s very interesting to compare day and night vistas.

Lincoln Ghost Walk This evening lantern-lit tour was a LOT of fun.  Led by the highly entertaining Garret Moffett, it is more mysterious and thought provoking than truly scary, and is kid-friendly.  Historians make much of Mary Todd Lincoln’s unique approach to spiritualism and mysticism, but Abraham Lincoln himself shared some of these interesting beliefs which are reflected in the home she shared with her famous husband.  You’ll learn about these and much more on the tour!

End your day with a late dinner and glass of wine at Saputo‘s, another Springfield institution where many a backroom deal has been brokered.  If you’ve been to Italy you are not going to be overly impressed with the food (though is it quite palatable!)  But the true reason you’re going there is for the ambiance.

Day 2

Mosey along for a pleasant 30-40 minute walk or catch the bus to the Lincoln’s Tomb, where it is traditional to begin your visit by rubbing the nose of the giant bronze bust of Lincoln’s head for good luck.  The tomb itself is somber as befits its purpose and is both simple and majestic at once.  It’s a nice place for reflection.

Continue on to the Abraham Lincoln Museum and Presidential Library which has attractions for all ages.  Again, one of my favorite things about this place was the gift shop, where I loaded up on books and bought some earrings that I still wear today.  More sobering but equally interesting was the civil war documentary and artifacts from that era.

Those with kids may also want to check out the Illinois State Museum (full disclosure — I did not make it there!)

The last train to Chicago leaves at around 7:30 pm (again, please double check!)  So do a time check and figure out if you want to add anything from the proposed architecture side tour below.

Architecture Side Tour

Beyond politics, Springfield is also the site of some interesting architecture.  Depending on the pace at which you visit other attractions, you can just about cram this into a full weekend, or alternatively take a second day off.

Architecture buffs can check out the Frank Lloyd Wright designed Dana Thomas House, which I found interesting because despite being his 72nd building design, was the first time he was truly allowed to “go to town” and do whatever he wanted.  It’s a fascinating house with an amazing balcony designed to optimize live music performances from both an aesthetic and an acoustic perspective.

Another place worth visiting is the Vachel Lindsay Home, where you can enjoy a guided tour of a 19th century tour house and learn about a poet you probably have never heard of <blush!>.

I apologize for the lack of photos — unhelpfully they are all on my camera which is in storage in the U.S.

Launchpad and Staycation — New Delhi

A brief hiatus from coffee to share some thoughts about New Delhi.  (For those of you who are wondering about the difference — New Delhi is the capital of India, and is part of a larger municipality known as Delhi.)

Like Jakarta, New Delhi is a city with much to see in its own right.  While one would be hard-pressed to deem it the nicest city in India,  I would argue that is is both overlooked and under-appreciated.  (Again, in a classic example of not listening to “helpful” advice — I’m actually glad that I had several days to enjoy New Delhi and meet some great people!)

A typical tour of Delhi — New or Old, guided or self-explored — will bring you to the following key attractions:

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A peaceful corridor inside the Red Fort.

The Mughal Red Fort (If on your own, get there 30 min before opening rather than baking in the afternoon sun.    Prepare to shove and be shoved — and to be thoroughly irritated by the blatantly discriminatory ticket pricing for foreigners!  Get the audio guide because the signage is not especially helpful.)

Qutab Minar, a UNESCO World Heritage victory minaret in the Afghan style

Humayun’s Tomb, commemorating the second Mughal Emperor of India — and even a tomb dedicated to his favorite barber!   (The steep steps are totally worth it.)

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Humayan’s Tomb — a beautiful place of rest.

Temples/Mosques/Other Houses of Worship:   (I don’t mean to be glib in lumping these all together — but the fact of the matter is that each concierge/tour operator/local will recommend a slightly different combination among the three on the must-see circuit.)

Khan Market:  Khan Market is frequently recommended to tourists as it is relatively tame.  Boasting several nice restaurants, a fun store called Happily Unmarried (which also has a stand in the airport), and tailors / saree makers, it’s a nice enough place to visit, but not necessarily at the top of my list.

There is no shortage of information written about these places.  And they are mostly magnificent.  But what about some of the things that, if not entirely off the beaten track, may not immediately come to mind?

Hauz Khas

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A family enjoys a lazy Sunday afternoon at Hauz Khas.

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The reservoir at pre-dusk.

In Hauz Khas I got a vibe that I seldom felt in New Delhi (or indeed, much of India!).  The vibe?  Chill.  And not just on the narrow strip of bars and restaurants that is the haunt of many an expat, hipster, and hipster expat — but the actual Hauz Khas Complex.  This is where the remains of a fourteenth century village and lush gardens face a beautiful reservoir, the royal tank, and a deer preserve.  In addition to taking in nature and history/architecture — one of the most fun things is people watching.  Hauz Khas also has a number of funky antique shops, international restaurants, good coffee, and even an authentic gelato stand!

Dilli Haat

Chances are you are not going to want to purchase much (if anything) at Dilli Haat.  That said, it is still well worth the trip to this kitschy but entertaining arts & crafts market, designed to replicate a traditional village market (haat).  There are three branches of Dilli Haat that I am aware of — but I recommend going to the original market in INA colony because there is a fantastic food and spice market across the street.

INA Market

INA Market is not for the faint of heart, delicate of nose, or fly-phobic.  And while the name Indian National Army Market may evoke stolid images of commissaries and barracks — INA Market is in fact a lively bazaar offering everything from live fish to imported pasta.  And the spices!  I was in heaven.  Gigantic bags of bright yellow turmeric, green cardamom, black mustard seeds, vibrant red chillies overwhelm the senses.  While every local has their own favorite stall, look for one that grinds and packages spices fresh and on site.

Gourmet Desire

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The feast that we helped to prepare at Gourmet Desire — a combination of Northern and Southern Indian cuisine.

If sightseeing in the baking, and I mean BAKING sun isn’t your thing — New Delhi offers an array of activities to delight even the weariest, heatstroke-prone business traveler.  In my case, this turned out to be a cooking class.  While many five star hotels offer new initiates a variety of options to try their hand at preparing Indian cuisine, my friend P and I decided to try Gourmet Desire, a program run out of the home of Jyoti Agarwal.  Beginning her career as a baker / chocolatier, Jyoti later realized that the many wonderful regional cuisines of India are the perfect way to experience the richness and diversity that is India — all in one place.

Coming up!

New Delhi is also a fantastic launching pad to a number of places with posts forthcoming, including:

  • The Eye-Opening — Amritsar and the India’s Wagah border with Pakistan
  • The Peaceful (aka Royalty for a Weekend) — Udaipur
  • The Obvious — Agra and the Taj Mahal

And many, many more.