It is with a bit of sadness that I write this last blog about Indonesia. It's kind of like how I felt when we were actually experiencing it. It was sad to know this was our last adventure in the country we'd come to love. We hadn't even planned to go to Indonesia, but after hearing so many other backpackers rave about it we made the trek- and what a great decision it turned out to be. We both agreed it was our favorite country. There is so much to do and see here, and it's such an amazing spot for wildlife and scenery. The people are also so lovely, tied for friendliness with Myanmar and Laos. Sorry Vietnam, you didn't make the cut.
This last spot we ventured to was recommended to us as we were diving in Komodo. We took a flight from Labuanbajo to Ende and then a 2 hr bus ride to a teensy tiny little town called Moni. It is at the foot of Mt. Kelimutu, the reason we found ourselves way out in the Indonesian countryside.
However, before we talk about Moni we have to talk about our little adventure in Ende right after we got off the plane. The taxi people were swarming us, trying to get our business. They were being super aggressive, and I told Jared "I didn't want to give any of these a$$holes any business."So we headed out onto the main street and one of the many 'hip-hop vans' pulled over to pick us up. They are basically mini-vans that have been painted up all crazy and have huge subs in the back that form benches to sit on (see picture above). I have no idea why this is a thing, but they are super common. We climbed in, and saw we were sharing the ride with two older ladies. The driver's assistant told us we have to go to the market first and then we will go to Woloana- the bus terminal that has buses for Moni. We weave through streets to blaring dance music and finally come to the city centre. We were barely pulled over when this guy from another hip-hop van walks up and starts yelling at our driver. He was walking between the two front windows, yelling what I assume were insults, and taking swipes at the driver occasionally! The little old ladies were yelling, trying to break up the fight. And yes, there's Jared and I stuck in the back because the only way out is crowded by this super angry dude and the old ladies. Our guy was in a van why didn't he just drive away?!? He does this eventually after taking his beating and not long after he slows down by these guys and they start yelling at him. It looked like it was going to get crazy too but he must have learned his lesson as he U-turned out of there and at this point I'm yelling at him- 'When are we going to Woloana?! Take me there now!' They assure me right away that we are going there now, we just have to stop at the police station first to drop off the driver and then the driver asst. will take us to Woloana. We get to the police station and the driver gets out. Jared and I also move to get out, figuring it would be better to just put the whole ridiculous situation behind us. The assistant, obviously not wanting to look our combined fare of 10,000 rupiah (woop-de-doo $1) offers to drive us straight there so we finally got to Woloana after a lot of screwing around. What that guy was going to the police for I have no idea. I have a sneaking suspicion drugs were involved, but we were just happy to be out of that ridiculous situation. Jared would tell you that whole mess could have been avoided if I wasn't so cheap and tried to save us $2. He wasn't too pleased with me after that, and I had to promise to stop being so stingy.
After the 2 hr bus ride from Ende to Moni, we found a little hotel to stay at. We learned there is no running water-like not just no hot water, we get that all the time, but at this place when you wanted water you had to ask the owner to 'turn on the water' and you filled a big tub beside the toilet. That's the water you use to bail into the toilet to flush it, the water you use to wash your face, the water you use to brush your teeth, wash your hands, everything. There's really no way to shower, unless you want to have an Indonesian shower where you douse yourself with cup fulls of water. Kind of made the no toilet paper, no towels, no soap thing seem irrelevant. It was definitely the dumpiest/weirdest place we stayed, but for some reason when I look back on it I feel it simply enriched the whole experience. It blows my mind to think how much we all have in the Western world, and how little people in other parts of the world have- as a norm, not just a temporary state. It's like camping, but for your whole life.
Jared wanted to snooze in our ritzy hotel room, I wanted to explore (and be out of that bug-infested hell-hole). I took a walk down a random country road and came across a soccer tournament. All the kids were lined up getting announced to the blare of techno music. This was definitely the most 'out-there' place we had been up to this point. It was not touristy at all. I was walking on this road, and a guy on a scooter slows down as he drives by to yell: "Careful, many rabies dogs here." He was gone before I could yell back "I'm vaccinated!" What a weird thing to say to a foreigner, but I get the feeling there aren't a ton of us whiteys to practice on, and he was mostly just wanted to warn me. Without wasting time by slowing down to a full stop, of course.
More pictures of the countryside I found on my little walk
The next morning, we got picked up at 4 am by a couple of guys on scooters we had hired to take us up the mountain to see the three coloured lakes. Mt. Kelimutu has 3 lakes- blue, red and green, but that's just their names. They are changing colours so frequently because of all the different minerals mixing with the water in the volcano. Today they were blue-green, dark brown/red and milky blue, respectively.
It was a lovely sunrise experience, no fog like at Bromo and no sulphur-burnt eyes like at Ijen.
It was so cool, the water. It looked like paint
The Lake of Old People (Tiwu Ata Mbupu) at the western point of the volcano is usually blue, but today was a blue-green. This is where it is said the spirits of the old that have led righteous lives go to rest.
The place is very significant to the locals, they believe it is the spiritual resting place of their ancestors.
The two other lakes are shown here, you can see they share a crater wall. The Lake of Young Men and Maidens (Tiwu Nuwa Muri Koo Fai) on the left is usually green, but milky-blue today. On the right, the Enchanted Lake (Tiwu Ata Polo) can often be blood red, but today was more brown-red. This is the one where bad people go- young, old, male or female.
Kelimutu itself means boiling lake because the steam is often rising off the water's surface, which you can almost make out on the left side.
After we had had enough fun and just about wore out the selfie stick, we started traipsing down the mountain. We ended up getting lost (how do you get lost walking down a mountain!?! Just keep heading downwards). So it took us about 4 hrs instead of the usual 2 1/2. But we saw a lot of stuff along the way, and had a waterfall to swim in at the end.
Making friends along the way
We made it! We aren't lost anymore.
The next morning, we set off on scooters to see some traditional housing. I was probably a little too excited for this project, Jared very much the other way. However, we both ended up having a great time. We first looked in a small village, Woloara, but couldn't really find them. Luckily, we ran into the husband of the owner of the place we were staying at, he was watching the techno soccer tournament that was still going on. He told us to head on down the road to Jopu and we could see them there, along with some traditional weaving. We did just that, it was about an 8 km drive and at some points the road was worse than going through jungle, but we made it! (At this point, Jared is probably thinking 'why the hell are we putting this much effort into seeing some weaving and old houses?') The people were crazy friendly, and everyone was looking at us. The kids were all giggling and pointing and when I high-fived one of them the whole group had to do it. There were some ladies weaving and were OK with me taking pictures of them. The houses are grass-roofed and somewhat conical/pyramidal in shape. They are on stilts off the ground but when you climb under the lip and look inside there is a wooden structure that they sleep and live in.
A lot of their hands are permanently purple from all the dyeing of fabrics they do
Interesting side note: Portuguese missionaries came here and absolutely went to town, and as a result the primary religion practiced on the island of Flores is Roman Catholic. However, it definitely has it's own Indonesian flare here, with a mixture of animism, Hindu and Buddhism, depending who you talk to.
On the bus back to civilization. We'll miss you!
Parting shots from the plane. Headed back to Denpasar (on Bali) and then on to Bangkok.
Rice terraces from the sky
