The Backpacker - indonesia

A Slovak and a Pole

noreply@blogspirit.com (Backpacker) — Tue, 04 Aug 2009 11:12:00 +0000

I believe all world languages would be incomprehensible if not accompanied by gestures and smiles. I also believe all travelers agree with this plain statement. Undoubtedly it can trying, like when asking for directions to a hotel in Papua New Guinea or wondering about the cost of hiring a Land Cruiser in Socotra Island, but otherwise there is a lot of fun in trying to understand and err---being understood. It completes what can be called a proper communication!

But occasionaly, gestures get you on the move faster than words.

One such experience with this kind of ‘smile-wave-point’ communication happened on the Komodo Island, West Flores (Indonesia) after my first encounter with the Komodo dragons. It stay in memory for various reasons.

1. All visitors to the Island that day (totaling 15 in number, including five that made up my group) had had the good fortune of seeing the the dragons. (I was told, much later that visitors have several times returned without seeing them)

2. Everyone was dead tired from the long walks and the constant "ooooh...aaaaaaah" upon seeing the beasts. (Excitment can lead to exhaution)

3. Everyone missed home, friends, material comforts, shower, coffee...

4. Everyone as aware that the only faces they would see for the next two days would be that of the crew and the little groups in which we had arrived, namely 4-5 people per boat.

But the fifth reason was mine alone!

I was travelling with a group I had never known…having barely exchanged words with the Lativian family and my conversation with Mathias (the guide) was limited to asking about coffee, lunch and the Island. Therefore, I had valid reasons to seek out the two new faces that suddenly appeared on the Island (I had breifly seen them at the Labaun Bajo airport earlier in the day), and who now sat in the tiny ‘cafe’ (that dared to call itself a restaurant) on the Island, nursing a Bintang (Indonesian beer) looking very pleased with the world.

Heck, the sight of them was enough to want to start a conversation! I guess it was acceptable that a woman travelling by herself needed to talk, for whatever reason! But before I could start a conversation, Mathias introduced me to all others who trooped into the cafe for a quick something. He wrongly explained that I was an Indian (one could see that of course), travelling alone, come from far away (his ignorance of distances was forgivable) and was ‘researching’ Komodos! I wasn’t, of course, but when ten pairs of eyes are admiring your fortitude one doesn’t want to spoil the moment for them by telling them your real motive.

But I was curious to see the reaction of the "guys." For some reason, they were smiling, a vacant, but encouraging kind of smile that suddenly made them (one more than the other though!) look even more handsome!

Eventually people wandered away, wanting to make the most of the fast fading lights. Then HE came over to me.

HE gave me his hand. Warm, strong, friendly, determined (there is a lot to be said about a handshake). HE was nearly ten inches taller than I and his green eyes (not blue as I earlier thought) smiled down at me. He murmured a name. (I shan’t mention the name here). The hands wouldnt let go...not that I had another hand to shake, of course. Only when I thought it was a decent enough time to withdraw, I said, rather shamelessly that I did want my hand back! His smile widened, as though disagreeing with me. The grip tightened. Well. I tried.

There was no harm in holding on to a hand for ever, right!

Only when Tomas, the other slightly lighter and shorter other, came over to give me his hand, did we let go. “He doesn’t speak English” Tomas declared unkindly. " He is Slovakian." I couldn’t care if was from Timbuktu of course. But a lot of things made sense. We were trying to have a conversation with our eyes and hands till then, but this revelation changed all of that. When he hugged me, our hearts spoke as well!

And suddenly the big, warm Slovak and I broke into a conversation.

It was all good fun, of course! Flirting is an ancient art, mastered by all and sundry and used in the most bizarre situation, and I suppose the situation I found myself in wouldn’t get any bizarre! Here I was, away from the world, shaking hands with a handsome Slovak who spoke

no English, on an Island reachable only after several hours of boat-ride through the unpredictable Indonesian sea and enjoying every bit of it. Somehow, I felt drawn to the warmth these guys practically radiated, adding only to the already hot and humid weather.

We walked around a bit, taking pictures, talking and understanding too...Tomas helped with the translations too and in that short interval of time betwwen evening and night when I missed my brothers a lot, three people from three corners of the world were bonded in a moment where tongues mattered little.

They chose to leave the same evening, back to the mainland for they had an early morning dive planned out. They pulled off their shirts and jumped into their boats, waving till they disappeared out of sight.

Before that, however, we managed a few pictures. Well, I had more than I bargained for. Instead of just having the protective arms of the big, silent Slovak, Tomas also joined in for a “group-hug”.

Heck you don’t need to know Polish to understand what that means!!

A night on the boat

noreply@blogspirit.com (Backpacker) — Wed, 24 Jun 2009 09:55:44 +0000

That night we stayed on the boat. Our 'dining' table was moved to a side and we spread out our sheets and turned in. Out at sea, anchored near an unnamed island, surrounded by thick mangrove forests, and thus mosquitoes, the sea hitting against the wooden boats, the sound of some night birds and crickets....was a night to remember. I dont remember spending a more comfortable night as I did that night, among strangers, completey at teh mercy of nature...Mathias, our guide had alerted us for unpredictable spells, adding that if such a thing happened, we would probably have a bad night, for the sea would churn and rock the boat.

No such thing happened. I spent a lot of time staring into the darkness, while Peteris snored beside me...it was heartwarming to know that tired people didnt fuss too much about their beds...!! I must have dozed off at mid night and woke up right after...at pre-dawn. But I was thoroughly refreshed. It must have been the air, I wouldnt know what it was, but it was great. The boat, as I mentioned before, has a toilet (that empties straight into the sea!), roughly three by three and you cant do anything else but sit down and head out. You get excess of sea water for everything. The crew pulls up sea water to wash the dishes, the deck, the kitchen and the toilet....so you get an idea.

A while later, I hauled myself to the top of the boat where the crew slept. The morning was dawning when they stirred to life, surprised to find me there! I watched the horizon for traces of the sun...few things match the beauty of watching the sun rise from between the hills.

Dragon

noreply@blogspirit.com (Backpacker) — Mon, 13 Apr 2009 15:49:00 +0000

Few instances can match the excitement of seeing the famed Komodo Dragons right in front of your eyes. The giant lizards with their snake-like tongue dripping with poisonous, bacteria infected saliva, though not pretty to look at, were defnitely awe-inspiring. My small group of Latvians and I went click, click, and click...and the dragons, probably used to these alien sounds, didnt mind too much. Instead, with the swish of their long tail, made their way into the forest, lost to sight. Our guide was excited. We werent. We hadnt had enough of the dragons....I kept my camera rolling, hoping to catch any movement, anything.

The guide egged us on, telling us we would surely see more of them near the watering hole! Surely he wasnt lying, but the watering hole can be reached only after marching in a single file, long and hard, through brushes, skipping over rocks, sweating under the blue sky visible through the huge palm trees dotting the landscape.

But I held on. Maybe, maybe the ferocious dragon that I had focused my attention on, would appear...in another minute...maybe...and voila, it did. He (I am assuming it to be a male), turned his beautiful head in my direction. Even looking through the video screen, I was mesmerized. He seemed close...I stepped back a little, only to remember that I had zoomed in...!

He held his head in place...staring into the camera, then rolled out his long, snake-like tongue....

I fled.

Only later when I saw the pictures Peteris had shot of me filming the dragon, did I realise that I hadnt been too far away from the lizard. He could have had me in one stride! We walked in a single file, led by a ranger carrying a long, sturdy, Y shaped stick. This, he explained, was to stop any dragon if they decided to attack....they Y end of the stick would lock their front lgs (same as how they use a similar stick to capture snakes), while we could make our escape.

Dragons Den

noreply@blogspirit.com (Backpacker) — Thu, 09 Apr 2009 01:48:00 +0000

I marched ahead, with the rest of the group, the boys stayed on the boat to look after our belongings.

From the quay to the guest house was quite a walk and hours after being tossed aboust on the sea, walking felt good...We arrived at the Rangers office, a wooden affair. The office itself sstood on stils, the reasons for which I learnt of later. There was a coffe shop which stood on stilts and no other building as far as I could see. These two wooden structres completed the "building area"on the
Rinca Island.

We were rquired to fill out our names in the ancient register. I put in Indian next to the name in the nationality column and the ranger who happened to be peering over my shoulder did a jig. His next question surprised me.
"You Indian?"
Yes.

"You come from India? Direct?

I didnt understand. "Yes"

You not living in Europe?? Sure?

I was sure. "No"

That seemed to make him happier. The Latvians and Mathais were by now very interested in the goings on.
"No Indian come here from India. One lady come from UK, Indian, but she not go to India ever."

oh, alright", i managed, not sure where he was getting to.

"Welcome, welcome, Indian...you first Indian lady come here...alone!"

I didnt know how to react to that one. Before I could feel proud of the fact, he came up with another, completely different question. He had been looking closely at my name...he read out loud...
Anjaly...

Kuchi kuchi hota hai...you know Shah Rukh Khan????

With that everything changed. I am sure Mathias had been meaning to ask me that question too, but with difficulty that a guide faces, he refrained from asking me that question. Apparently he took his job very seriously. But the Ranger had, in some way, removed the last bit of guide-tourist formality and paved the way for a friendly relationship.

The Latvians, sensed that something was defnitely brewing, something exciting and threw in some friendly laughter. When we set out to the see the dragons, we had all become friends. Amanda who understood most of what was going on, shared the info with her family. Without actually speaking to each other, all of us were now bonded.

We moved ahead. The dragons waited. But I sensed that the Ranger, now bored with seeing the dragons for the last 16 years, would rather speak to me about India and SRK and learn some Hindi from me, but he held his peace. He send me off with the rest of the group, with words of caution.

"Dragon very dangerous"...they bite. Very poison.

I gathered that he wanted me back in one piece so that he could take up our little conversation further!

We were lucky. For the dragons were close. Before we went out deep into the islands, we saw our dragons.

Three of them. One was fast asleep under a tree and didnt move despite the noise from our group....the other put up a show for us.

"We bring them from inside," a young man, who lead our group voluntered. "we throw pieces of meat to drag them out. some tourists cant walk much and they see dragon here..."

Fair enough. People braved the odds and came to Rinca Island to see the dragons, but few have left without actually seeing any of them.

To the Dragons Den

noreply@blogspirit.com (Backpacker) — Tue, 24 Mar 2009 05:25:05 +0000

After hours of sailing, Rinca Island came into view. 'Numb and stoned' Mathias got us all excited (after some more coffee) with stories of Komodos and wished that we were lucky enough to find the dragons easily. We pulled up to the quay that jutted out into the lagoon created between two islands close to each other. We were no more on the open sea, but suddenly found ourself surrounded by thick mangrove forests. We alighted and were swamped with mosquitoes. Mathias has warned us about the mosquitoes, but it didnt prepare us for the ...... seemed like the mosquitoes, the size of spiders, were wrecking vengence. They were out for blood! I may have not been prepared for the sun, but I was for the mosquitoes...having had the good sense to start on anti-malarial tablets two weeks before I began my journey to Indonesia.

On board...

noreply@blogspirit.com (Backpacker) — Wed, 18 Mar 2009 16:07:00 +0000

Riding the waves in an old wooden boat on the unpredictable Indonesian sea is exciting. While I sipped coffee, the crew got busy with making lunch. This was going to be completely 'local' experience and for once I was glad. Mathias tried to get the Latvian family interested with infomration on local culture and stories of Manggarai families, but I noticed he didnt have many takers. From snatches of his mostly one-sided conversation accompanied by excited gestures, I understood that LBJ, on the West Manggarai regency of Flores was an extremely beautiful place, with many spectacular sights and adventurous trails. Mathias told us that Denpasar (Bali) as as far as his knowldge went, for he had never set foot on central Jawa (read Jakarta)_ he didnt regret it of course, Labuan Bajo was the most beautiful place on earth, he said. Looking at the small green islands we passed by, I was inclined to agree with him.

Our thoughts rested on what was waiting for us at Rinca Island, our stop for the night and our first meeting with the dragons. All of us had braved the odds so that we could get up close with the Komodos and Mathias was quite excited over the prospect of seeing the dragons again.

Few nautical miles into the sea, lunch was served. Mathais hovered around the table, "waiting" on us...helping us with the spread! The 'spread' included rice (I thought it need some cooking), vegetable soup (carrots, cabbage, potatoes and beans boiled in water and NOT flavoured), noodles and fish topped with ripe tomatoes. All of us did enjoy the meal, I guess it has something to do with the the sea breeze or the sun or simply the beauty of Indoesia but we polished off the last grain. This meal was followed by some more coffee. I wasnt sure if so much coffee was good, especially since it was hot, but I downed a good measure anyway! Post lunch, my fellow- mates decided to nap, while I allowed myself the lucury of motoring the boat. There was no 'traffic' so to speak and other than the whirlpools, there was nothing much to worry about. The crew were only glad to let me try...anything to break the monotony of the sea they were used to. One member of the crew kept an eye for the whirlpools, while the 'captain' helped me steer his boat along! Mind, the boat is NOT equipped with modern electrobic gadgets that display the location and time and such, these boats were motored instinctively. I suppose this comes with years of practice, the crew instinctively knew when we left the course. It was beyond me, but I managed to interest the Latvian family who suddenly decided that watching a fellow traveler captaining a boat was far more interesting than a shut eye!

The journey begins

noreply@blogspirit.com (Backpacker) — Tue, 17 Mar 2009 08:12:00 +0000

We began our voyage! Mathias, three young boys who formed the 'crew', the Latvian family and I were going to be stuck to each other for the next few days, through rain and storm and Komodos... The morning was clear, the sea calm and anticipation high. The wooden boat, that like its furniture on board had seen better days, took off, amidst the roar of the engine. We settled down on the wooden benches, placed around the wooden table (which was to serve as the 'dining' table). Mathias began his narration but finding no interested audience, quickly shut up and began to look around for coffee. Ever since I stepped on Indonesian soil several days before, I had come to change my idea about coffee. I now belived that if coffee was to have a decent place among Indonesian beverage, then it had to be really strong, black and bitter...not like the Bintang, but worse.

I sat on the bow, sipping the bitter concotion, getting used to the boat's rythm, balancing myself quite well while Amanda and her mother applied sun tan lotion. I found that particularly interesting. I was convinced that brown skin never tanned and the sun couldnt affect it in any way. I managed to smile to myself too and then busied myself with the scenary unfolding infront of me. This was going to be fun, so long as there was coffee, the boat moved over the waters and skies remained clear, I could handle the churning and the rolling.

I am a water person!

Small picturesque islands dotted the sea. Mathias told us that they were not habited, due to the lack of fresh water. The islands only served as a "decorations" in the sea, he joked. However, among the numerous islands in West Flores, Rinca and Komodo Island had few inhabitants. Fresh water was scanty but they survived. So did the dragon and the other wild animals that lived on the islands.

Labuan Bajo (West Flores)

noreply@blogspirit.com (Backpacker) — Tue, 17 Mar 2009 08:09:00 +0000

I am starting this entry from Labuan Bajo, a small town in West Flores, an hour and half flying distance away from Bali. I was here because I wanted to see the Komodo Dragons. When I boarded the ancient 30-seater plane at Bali, it did occur to me that for a holiday, I was seeking thrill more than relaxation, but then I guess, adrenaline shots helped me relax and I had been dreaming of dragons for a while.

For a USD 400 I had managed to book myself the Komodo Island tour, but being a single traveler meant I would have to share the trip with a group of strangers. I was OK with it, seeing that I had no other choice anyway. Instinctively I knew this would be one of those trips that would involve more smiles and gestures than any real talking, unless I was really lucky and got a group of people who spoke my tongue.

When I landed at Labuan Bajo, after a scary, yet uneventful flight, I was sure I had made the right decision. For one, I had a nice video shots of small islands dotting the sea (the planes dont fly very high and if the weather holds on a clear day, with a really good cam, you can shoot clear pictures of the islands).

Thrity people descended from the aircraft, claimed their baggage that rested in the cockpit (!!) and I wasnt surpised to note that I was the only Indian (leave alone being an Indian Female) amongst the other pleasure seekers that included Latvians, Poles, Russians, British and Germans. My first picture (the one you see here) was shot by a Pole, traveling in a group of two, and visiting Labuan Bajo for the dragons and the dive.

The airport deserves a mention. This was the smallest airport I have seen, and also the most convenient one. No standing up in queues, no security checks, no waiting to claim to baggage...just walk through the single big hall and out into the arms of your guide waiting to escort you (if you have booked a tour. If it is the first time, it is advisable to book in advance, lodging options are limited in this tiny town and is always full, according to what my guide Mathias told me later).

It was then I met my co-travelers for the Komodo Island trip. Four Latvians.
Red-faced Amanda with her parents and a friend named Peteris. (Over the next two days of gruelling boat ride in the sea, I only managed to share not more than a couple of sentences with Amanda, very little with Peteris and none at all with Amanda's parents, who didnt speak English.

Past the lovely green countryside, we bumped over narrow roads to arrive at the port, where our fishing boat-turned-house boat stood. We stopped briefly at the tourism office (yes, there is such a thing as a tourism office here, a smallish room with few maps, a table, no chair for visitors to sit down and some brochures advertising diving/snorkeling trips). I suppose people didnt stop by too long at the tourism office, and if they did stop at all, it was only to seek directions or get information about hiring diving gear.

After the customary stop, we headed to the Port. I remembered later that I should have had the good sense to pack snaks for the trip, but seeing that it was a all-paid trip including food/board-on-boat package, I decided against this, determined to survive on what was given. If there was nothing, I would do with nothing. I wasnt on a luxury liner nor did I care that I would have to eat food cooked on kerosene stoves on the boat.

The journey had begun.

Indonesia

noreply@blogspirit.com (Backpacker) — Tue, 17 Mar 2009 08:06:00 +0000

When I decided to break away from the monotony of work and settle upon Indonesia, little did I know I was begining a life long romance with the islands and the sea.

But I am back, heck, I was back two months ago, but feels as if something is missing! The sea, to begin with...and the Indonesian Coffee (Jawa), the temples, the pythons, the monkeys, Durian (!!!), Lumpiahs and the bubur and nasi goreng, the becaks and the mayhem on the Poppy Street in Bali...