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.

17 Islands panoramic vista

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: Enjoying the Multicolored Regency of Ende

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 three of eight.  Check out Part one, Flores 101: How, When and Why to Go, and Part two, Flores: Singing and Swaying in Sikka.

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Sunrise over Kelimutu

Mount Kelimutu – “the Boiling Mountain” – is one of Flores’ must see attractions, both for the ethereal natural beauty surrounding its three colored crater lakes, and the mythical beliefs held by local inhabitants. Seeing the volcanoes at sunrise is a MUST – particularly since, unlike most Indonesian sunrise vistas, there are surprisingly few tourists present on weekdays, affording one a unique opportunity to enjoy nature’s broad palette.

Science

Like Lake Toba, Mount Kelimutu has both scientific and, well, not-so-scientific explanations for its creation, the ever-evolving hues of its crater lakes, and its greater purpose.

Scientifically, relatively less is known about Kelimutu than its other cousins such as Toba and Krakatau. Nearly 1,700 meters at its peak, the volcano was “discovered” in 1915 by a Dutch colonial government official. Since then, three major eruptions have been recorded – 1928, 1938, and a massive eruption in 1968 during which water from the crater lakes was projected as high as ten meters.   There have been periodically heightened periods of activity over the last 20 years, but nothing nearly at these levels.

The highly acidic lakes – though beguiling – can also be lethal. In 1995 a Dutch tourist fell into the turquoise lake – and despite 5 days of search and rescue – was never found. I had to chuckle when “Kelimutu lakes swimming” was one of the Google autofill options that came up as I was  researching the area. That, my friends, would not be a good idea.

Superstition

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Image reproduced with kind permission from www.florestourism.com.

Kelimutu is considered sacred by the Lio tribe as it is believed that souls of the dead reside in the deep waters.   They begin their journey at the Gate of the Spirits marked by two huge rocks symbolizing the Konde (or queen) and Ratu (or king). These guards of the gate (a sort of Florinese St. Peter if you will) assign souls to the appropriate lake based on two key criteria – their age at time of death, and the nature of their character.

Every year in August, a ceremony is held to commemorate the souls of the departed and ask for blessings and safe passage through Kelimutu in the year to come.

I learn that many of the island’s traditional belief systems are built on a delicate balance between “complementary opposites” – male/female, old/young, sky/earth, mountain/sea, etc. Spirits, generally benevolent ancestors, serve as guardians and protectors, while every once in a while, an evil spirit lurks around, leaving misfortune, destruction, illness, and death in its wake. Both groups are honored / appeased with frequent offerings.

Kelimutu is essentially a giant tempat angker, or “haunted place” where spirits gather – one of many found throughout the island. To manage these forces, each village has a dukun, or healer who through a combination of traditional medicine and ritual practices can either call up white magic for good, or black magic for bad.

Setting

The drive up in complete darkness can be a little unnerving, with sudden sharp curves, steep inclines, and eerie mists all limiting visibility. It is difficult to believe, as in much of Flores, that these are meant to be two-way streets – and the sudden appearance of headlights requires a graceful automotive dance that only the most skilled of drivers can pull off.

IMG_4535It is a bit of a hike to get to the top – 1.5 km of a relatively gentle slope followed by 127 steps to the viewing platform at the summit. All in all highly doable for people even at less than prime levels of fitness (such as yours truly). The walk up – in nearly pitch black – is almost other worldly, and frequently described by travel writers as a virtual moonscape. At the first blush of dawn, however, the vista is transformed in a way that is impossible to capture on camera. Upon reaching the viewpoint summit, the morning chill begins to sink into your bones. Fear not, however, as enterprising locals lay out blankets offering everything from tantalizingly hot ginger coffee to extra sarongs for warmth.

On the walk back, nature’s sounds and scents greet you as the moonscape comes alive.  The drive back is harrowing for an entirely different reason — morning fog not only obscures the car’s windshield, but also makes it very hard to see beyond a couple of meters at a time.  Somehow, we make it back to the Kelimutu Ecolodge in one piece, in time for a well-deserved breakfast.

IMG_4628Our next stop is Penggajawa Beach, popularly known as Blue Stone Beach, in Ende.  My initial reaction is slight disappointment — after the spectacularly gorgeous beaches that I’ve seen in other parts of Flores, this semi-industrial port-meets-stone-quarry stop is underwhelming.  I enjoy getting up close and personal with the beach, and pick up a few small blue stones to replace my goddaughter’s mysteriously vanished mancala game stones back home.  But high demand for the stones from interior designers across Indonesia and in Japan means that the once vibrantly blue beach is becoming whiter and grayer.  🙁

We then hit a bit of a snag.  Heading out from the beach, we discover that the highway is closed for an undetermined amount of time due to construction.  (This is a common occurrence across the island, incidentally.)  So we pull to the side of the road, where I engage in one of my favorite Indonesian activities — truck spotting.

At long last our journey finally resumes — next stop, Riung and the 17 Islands!

Continue on to part 4 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. . .

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?

Borneo Jungles: The Beauty of Disconnecting

Hello Internet!  After nearly 3 weeks in the jungles of Borneo and over a week laid up in bed back home  it’s a pleasure to reconnect.  Or is it?

If there is anything that I’ve learned on this month-long hiatus, it’s that wifi is worse than any drug.  Truly.  I realized that I had a problem when I was more stressed out at not being able to connect than I was by being so remote that I couldn’t buy cigarettes.   (Even in Brunei, the height of modern civilization in Borneo, there are no boozy beverages or smokes to be found.  But I was more saddened by the fact that the wifi was too slow for me to connect to my website. . .)

On a practical front, I was concerned that while traveling alone, I had no means of telling friends and loved ones that I had not been devoured by a crocodile.   (I did get attacked by leeches on two separate occasions — but that’s its own story!)  On an emotional front, I felt like a crappy friend who couldn’t be consistently accessible to friends going through tough times.  One by one my Word Feud and Words with Friends Games were automatically resigned.   And without Facebook — a key tool not only for my blog but for my LIFE — whatever was a girl to do?

EVERY once in a blue moon, the planets (or more accurately, the satellites) would align for JUST long enough for me to receive a flurry of updates and Whats App messages — only to disconnect before I was able to reply.  The WORST was not being able to respond to a birthday invite from a friend in Jakarta, and to just barely get three words out to her on the actual day.  But amazingly, one’s true friends are surprisingly understanding about the realities of leaving the urban jungle for an entirely different one.

Like beating any addiction, the first 48 hours were the hardest.   But then slowly I discovered new ways to stay engaged and in touch.

No wires -- no makeup, but definitely a cave spelunking badass!

No wires — no makeup, but definitely a cave spelunking badass!

1)  News.  Just like in the “old days” news DID make it to the jungle with each new wave of visitors.  I learned about the horrific events in Nepal from an actual person.  As a result, rather than voyeuristically perusing news updates and heartbreaking photo montages, we quietly mourned those lost, and reflected on how lucky we were in so many ways.

2)  Sensory Stimulation.  The only thing better than cute monkey videos is seeing monkeys in action — in the flesh.  (And, I might add, some interesting mating habits were revealed!)  My first day in the jungle, I literally couldn’t see the forest for the trees.  But by the second and third days, I found my eyes identifying both primates and birds camouflaged in the leaves — and being quite proud of my newfound abilities.  (Unfortunately, since I don’t have a zoom lens, you’ll have to take my word that the fuzzy blobs in my snaps are in fact animals and insects in their milieu!)

3) Social Engagement. As a single traveler (and a woman) I frequently find myself using my devices to keep potential weirdos at bay — from the endlessly chattering seatmate on a long-haul flight, to Casanova acolytes who assume that there is no earthly way you could be content with your own company. Maybe it’s just that willingness to venture into the jungle automatically makes you kind of cool — but overall I met some amazing people that I probably would have been less inclined to engage with under other circumstances. (I am frequently described as “reserved” or “slow to warm up.”)

4) Sleep Quality. I truly do believe that unplugging, coupled with trekking and fresh air, had a positive effect on my ZZZ’s. This made me generally more sharp, observant, and communicative. Since I know that in reality I will probably continue to be on at least one of my devices before sleep, a more practical long-term solution that I plan to explore when I return home is amber-tinted specialty glasses designed to filter out blue light.

5) Gratitude. Without distractions, and living an albeit temporarily simpler life, I found it easy to take time out to appreciate how lucky I was. In many ways, this is the most important lesson of all.

So a blogger can’t post without Internet access — but at the same time, may come up with unexpected inspiration without it. . . .

On Marathons and Meanderings – A Weekend in Inner Mongolia

Recently I was thinking about the purpose of this website.  Giving yourself a specific purpose to take a short weekend away somewhere, I believe, will always add something to your trip.   A national day here, solar, lunar or other celestial holiday there — a literary festival in Ubud, Bali, or maybe even a volunteering opportunity.  Whatever the reason, having something to base a short trip around is a fantastic way to discover the new and unique.

With this in mind, I got to thinking about a trip I took a couple of years ago in China.

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Smiling to mask the pain!

In 2012, I decided to run the Grassland Extreme Marathon (or really half, for sake of disclosure!) in Xiwuqi, Xilinhot, Inner Mongolia. I had decided to participate not just because I am one of those people who finds exhaustion and sore muscle fun — but also because I ran it with a group of others for Operation Smile a wonderful organization which provides free cleft lip/palate surgery to children around the world.  Doing something like this for an NGO really does add something to an already amazing adventure.

The journey was not the highpoint but that was more to do with my planning than anything.

The problem is that if you look at a map of China, Beijing to Inner Mongolia does not seem too great a distance. But it is MUCH farther than you expect. Taking the coach the event organizers had arranged was not the brightest idea I have had but the die was cast. (Interestingly enough, a cancelled flight and work in Ordos meant that I would have to do a similar journey a year later. . . )

So taking the coach was much like all coach journeys, boring, tiresome, and the odd stop in the middle of nowhere. The thing is about this part of China is that often roads stretch off into the distance before stopping without being completed. Leading to an 8 hour journey taking somewhere in the region of 13 hours.  You definitely get a sense of the vast expanse that is China — but that’s about it.  So should you decide to follow this itinerary, catch one of the many flights to major cities in Inner Mongolia daily from Beijing.

Xiwuqi is a tiny town on the edge of the wide expanse of the Mongolian grasslands. Small but very beautiful, it has a gorgeous Buddhist monument overlooking the town square, which entails a very pleasurable hike. The people are as friendly as you can imagine. They go all out to make you feel welcome and are always wanting to take a picture with visitors.

The three day trip that was part of marathon included hotel and food – both more than adequate for this part of China. It also had the option of staying in a yurt the night after the marathon for a party thrown by the local government.  Who could resist this?

Now, when I did this there was so much food and baijiu on the go that it was hard to keep up, especially after running.  (Since the crackdown on lavish spending, it is hard to believe that it will be quite the same.)  Either way, staying in a yurt was well worth it whether you are being plied with alcohol or not.

The grasslands themselves passed me in a sweaty blur. However, when I did take a few moments to drink in my surroundings, they were stunning. You are never likely to see a bluer sky in your life, and the moment wild horses run past you, your breath is truly taken away. Even if you do not do a run, you can get out into the grasslands with ease and take in its beauty.

Honestly I cannot speak of this trip highly enough. The beauty of Asia – especially for runners – is that there are so many out of the way places that hold events to participate in. If you are not a runner there are so many other reasons to take a short trip into the unknown.

If this post has convinced you to unleash your inner masochist, you can learn more about this year’s Extreme Grasslands Marathon here.

Layover: Frankfurt in 8 Hours

Minimum layover time required:  6 hours

My European readers have complained (justly!) that I have yet to write any posts about the continent, which got me thinking about this wonderful 8 layover that I had in Frankfurt.

Follow signs for the S-bahn, Frankfurt’s commuter rail that seemed-406288_1920gets you to the central train station, Frankfurt Hauptbanhof, in less than 15 minutes.  From Haupbanhof, take tram 11, direction Fechenheim Schießhütten-straße 4 stops to Römer / Paulskirche.   (A Frankfurt transport map can be viewed here. )

Your Frankfurt adventure begins at Paulskirche, or St. Paul’s Church, an example of early Lutheran church design and the birthplace of German democracy.

Next, take a short walk romerberg-337894_1280down to Römerberg, the “medieval” city hall square that is arguably one of Frankfurt’s most noted landmarks.  (Medieval is in quotes because while the square remains true to its original architectural style, the 1405 square was destroyed in WWII and subsequently rebuilt.)  Weed through the throngs of tourists to catch a glimpse of the fountain of justice, and note the plaque commemorating the Nazi book burning .

Then, make your way down towards the waterfronbridge-194623_1920t.  Those with the time may wish to pop into the Historisches Museum Frankfurt  (which sadly was being renovated when I visited).

Afterwards, a relaxing option — assuming that jet lag is beginning to set in after a red eye flight — is to hop onto one of the Main river cruises which launch from the Eisener Steg bridge.  Commentary will focus on the different architectural styles along the river banks — interesting but certainly no match to Chicago’s river architecture cruise.  The main draw is soaking up the sun and appreciating the blue sky

frankfurt-509511_1920After your “snooze cruise” it’s probably time for lunch.  (Naturally, lunch can be enjoyed at any point along the way depending on your schedule!)   Make your way past St. Leonhardskirche to Hauptwache where skyscrapers abound. Schillerstrasse pedestrian street takes you by the Frankfurt Börse – the hub of the city’s finance district.  From the Börse, Finally, meander along the Zeil, Frankfurt’s main shopping / pedestrian street, where shops and eateries abound.

Allow yourself at LEAST 2.5 hours to get back to the airport before your scheduled departure.  From Hauptwache, catch the S-bahn (S-8 or S-9 direction Wiesbaden) back to Frankfurt Airport.

And there you have it — a lovely layover in Frankfurt!

PS:  Should your layover fall over a weekend, another option is is try The Ebbelwei-Express Historic Tram Tour, a hop-on hop-off tour on Saturdays, Sundays and public holidays.  Get your bearings with a downloadable podcast, enjoy a glass of apple wine (Ebbelwei) and even try your hand at learning basic Hessian.  (Full disclosure — I haven’t had the opportunity to try this but it certainly sounds fun!)