The Backpacker

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.

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!