On Friday, while we were still blissed out in our humid and internet-less pocket of the jungle, Mount Raung erupted, making international news and stranding thousands of passengers who were traveling through Bali and Lombok. When we arrived in the Surabaya airport on Sunday morning, just two days after Mount Raung started spewing clouds of ash, it was a madhouse. I set dad up with coffee and a seat in the Starbucks lounge upstairs and proceeded to fight tooth and nail for a seat on the first plane to Labuan Bajo (which had to transit through Ngurah Rai International Airport in Bali).
After some bilingual beleaguering, we were miraculously only 5 hours behind our original schedule in getting from Kalimantan to Flores, with one night spent in the Surabaya airport rather than a backpackers in Bali.
Many families spent the night sleeping on the floor in the airport. While we were eating dinner at an airport restaurant I saw kids pushing their dozing dads around in trolleys. One might have thought that the airport was the place to be after a hard day of work. Those of us lucky enough to get an early flight the next day were all told the same thing: get in line at 4 am to confirm your seat on the plane.
By the time we got to the Bali airport our spirits were restored by the open, clean atmosphere and the promise of momentum in our journey.
Labuan Bajo: Day 10-17
On Day 1 in Labuan Bajo dad's immune system said, "hey, wait up for me" so we rested for our first two afternoons in the insanely beautiful villa where he had arranged for us to stay. My time was spent in the laziest postures imaginable reading "Eat, Pray, Love" (because of our proximity to Bali) while listening to the wavering sounds of the call to prayer, coming up to our mountain-side homestay from what sounded like the bottom of a swimming pool.
Recitation of the Quran (Sorry about the construction noises in the foreground.)
My thoughts after my first encounter with hot water in....a while, as I stood on our deck looking out over the best view in town were:
This must be paradise. For one, there's the view: turquoise, wind-wrinkled water disturbed by small islands rising out of the sea like the spine of a great mythical beast. Everything is clean and spacious. Even the recitation of the Quran (pengajian Quran) earlier was a clear, pitch-perfect sound ringing across the bay. One dark cloud hangs over the water, casting half the harbor in shadow and the other half in solid white, like glass caught in a glare. Up in stage right, the islands farthest off are in a spotlight of late afternoon light, dirty gold-colored like our thatched roof. A disembodied voice from the mosque falls loudly, proudly on Catholic ears - like those of the family taking care of this house while our German host is abroad visiting family. The geckos (called tokays) call in response - in protest, admission or in competition, it's difficult to tell.
In hopes that he would feel up to seeing some dragons (komodo dragons that is) on the second day, my dad and I booked a one day tour to Rinca island. He still felt sick the morning of, however, so I went alone to join the group and left him well-supplied with tissue, water and beautiful views. He left me with a long list of safety tips to use in the face of anything that might bite, sting or....breath fire? After reminding my sniffly, well-meaning father that I do indeed have a sense of self-preservation, I was off!
Amid a crowd of small puttering tour boats with varicolored tarp roofs, ragged corners flapping in the breeze (some boats have to replace their tarps after every outing) I found our group of six. There was one woman from near Jakarta on vacation in Flores, a German couple spending three months traveling Indonesia, two English teachers from England who had spent the last ten years traveling and teaching in Asia, two Indo tour guides (students from a local high school), and our smiling, silent boat captain. I met a lot of young people on this trip who were spending anywhere between three months to three years traveling (and sometimes working) around Asia. This revived my sense of adventure.
During the two hour ride to Jurassic Park, or, as they call it here, Rinca Island, the woman from near Jakarta and I tried conversing in Indonesian over the sound of the raucous motor but eventually we resorted to typing our questions and comments on notes apps in our phones.
At one point I got tangled up in some unfamiliar vocabulary and so we began a game of charades. According to her gestures of something large and flying with sharp teeth I gathered she was trying to communicate that we were passing Kalong Island, home of the flying foxes, huge bats which can be seen coming out of their caves at dusk by the thousand.
Within five minutes of arriving on Rinca Island I could tell it was going to be one big tourist trap. There was a lot of bureaucracy for very little time with the dinosaur cousins. All park guests had to crowd into a small office to meet the director of the park (who referred to himself condescendingly as Uncle Louis) and undergo a small interview: what is your name, nationality, purpose of visit, date of departure...etc. I don't know why I am continually amazed by Indonesia's bureaucracy and inefficiency. I suppose I had higher standards for a world heritage site such as Komodo National park, but that turned out to be a mistake on my part.
We saw two dragons in the first ten minutes of our tour (in the shade near the office) and spent the next two hours trekking through a barren land where, if I were a komodo dragon, I probably wouldn't want to lounge around. But the entrance was pretty grand!
Finding Nemo
On the eve of Idul Fitri we booked a 2-day tour on a diving boat with a company called Wicked Diving. After dinner that night at a delicious Indonesian restaurant called Pesona Bali, we heard the sound of dozens of teens revving their motors as they passed in a deliberately ear-splitting motorcade. There was obviously some celebratory spirit in the air mixed with some protest perhaps of all the white foreign tourists literally cutting an expensive, posh path through their town. It was as if they were suddenly expressing their anger on an occasion that would draw the attention away from their true underlying feelings.
With high spirits we rose the next morning to see yet another world beneath the surface. One of the things we liked most about this company was that they packed as many dives/snorkel trips into a day as was humanly possible. This averaged about three for me and four for my very enthusiastic dad (having acclimated to the tropics, I now get cold even quicker than I did before.) Before even entering the water we saw schools of flying silver fish jumping in synchrony over the gentle waves.
I loved watching the dive instructors speak in their highly technical instructions with their own divers sign language before each dive. The general vibe of the group was almost feverishly excited. We sheepishly raised our hands when asked who the two snorkelers of the group were. Everyone around us was at least on their 10th or even past their 100th dive. Although we didn't have the proper camera to capture the marine marvels, the pictures below, taken by a diver in the group who graciously shared his pictures with everyone, capture most of what we saw higher up on the reef. What we saw was turtles, the corrugated lips of giant clams, universities of fish so colorful that my dad joked that perhaps the less colorful fish had an inferiority complex, cowry shells, an eel, many wavey, tentacle-y animals that shrank back into their rocks when our instructor dove down to point them out and lots and lots of beautiful coral. One of my favorite sights was watching the waves from below the surface moving like a clear cloth that two people were raising and lowering above my head.
The divers talked about the sensation of catching a drift of fast-moving water as flying underwater. We didn't catch any particularly strong currents from where we were but I loved the image they placed in my mind.
All photo and video creds to Florian Faucher, my new diving friend from France. Note to self: invest in a GoPro camera before embarking on another underwater venture.
The photographer himself, haloed by fish.
Dad was reading "The Sixth Extinction" on this trip and remarked that our snorkeling tour could be improved if they showed us more of the rapidly disappearing coral reefs. As it was, we were looking at some of the healthiest coral reefs in the whole world in Komodo National Park. Right up there with the location/inspiration for Finding Nemo, the Great Barrier Reef.
Another interesting observation from my biologist dad was that blue is one of the more rare colors to find on land. Maybe that's part of the appeal of hydrangeas for me. Maybe that's also what made the blue starfish and schools of fish we saw so striking.
A manta ray - truly a majestic sight. It had a wing span of maybe 6 feet and all the while it was passing below us (this probably wasn't the same one) I couldn't help but hear the Darth Vader theme song playing in my head.
Snorkeling brought out an awe and reverence in us both, I think. My dad and I have done some traveling together in the past but this was one of the most ecologically and culturally diverse places we have explored together. I'm happy that we still share a love of traveling and that we're able to continue our tradition. I was so grateful to be able to share my greatest adventure with him.
After some bilingual beleaguering, we were miraculously only 5 hours behind our original schedule in getting from Kalimantan to Flores, with one night spent in the Surabaya airport rather than a backpackers in Bali.
Many families spent the night sleeping on the floor in the airport. While we were eating dinner at an airport restaurant I saw kids pushing their dozing dads around in trolleys. One might have thought that the airport was the place to be after a hard day of work. Those of us lucky enough to get an early flight the next day were all told the same thing: get in line at 4 am to confirm your seat on the plane.
By the time we got to the Bali airport our spirits were restored by the open, clean atmosphere and the promise of momentum in our journey.
Labuan Bajo: Day 10-17
On Day 1 in Labuan Bajo dad's immune system said, "hey, wait up for me" so we rested for our first two afternoons in the insanely beautiful villa where he had arranged for us to stay. My time was spent in the laziest postures imaginable reading "Eat, Pray, Love" (because of our proximity to Bali) while listening to the wavering sounds of the call to prayer, coming up to our mountain-side homestay from what sounded like the bottom of a swimming pool.
Recitation of the Quran (Sorry about the construction noises in the foreground.)
My thoughts after my first encounter with hot water in....a while, as I stood on our deck looking out over the best view in town were:
This must be paradise. For one, there's the view: turquoise, wind-wrinkled water disturbed by small islands rising out of the sea like the spine of a great mythical beast. Everything is clean and spacious. Even the recitation of the Quran (pengajian Quran) earlier was a clear, pitch-perfect sound ringing across the bay. One dark cloud hangs over the water, casting half the harbor in shadow and the other half in solid white, like glass caught in a glare. Up in stage right, the islands farthest off are in a spotlight of late afternoon light, dirty gold-colored like our thatched roof. A disembodied voice from the mosque falls loudly, proudly on Catholic ears - like those of the family taking care of this house while our German host is abroad visiting family. The geckos (called tokays) call in response - in protest, admission or in competition, it's difficult to tell.
In hopes that he would feel up to seeing some dragons (komodo dragons that is) on the second day, my dad and I booked a one day tour to Rinca island. He still felt sick the morning of, however, so I went alone to join the group and left him well-supplied with tissue, water and beautiful views. He left me with a long list of safety tips to use in the face of anything that might bite, sting or....breath fire? After reminding my sniffly, well-meaning father that I do indeed have a sense of self-preservation, I was off!
Amid a crowd of small puttering tour boats with varicolored tarp roofs, ragged corners flapping in the breeze (some boats have to replace their tarps after every outing) I found our group of six. There was one woman from near Jakarta on vacation in Flores, a German couple spending three months traveling Indonesia, two English teachers from England who had spent the last ten years traveling and teaching in Asia, two Indo tour guides (students from a local high school), and our smiling, silent boat captain. I met a lot of young people on this trip who were spending anywhere between three months to three years traveling (and sometimes working) around Asia. This revived my sense of adventure.
During the two hour ride to Jurassic Park, or, as they call it here, Rinca Island, the woman from near Jakarta and I tried conversing in Indonesian over the sound of the raucous motor but eventually we resorted to typing our questions and comments on notes apps in our phones.
At one point I got tangled up in some unfamiliar vocabulary and so we began a game of charades. According to her gestures of something large and flying with sharp teeth I gathered she was trying to communicate that we were passing Kalong Island, home of the flying foxes, huge bats which can be seen coming out of their caves at dusk by the thousand.
Within five minutes of arriving on Rinca Island I could tell it was going to be one big tourist trap. There was a lot of bureaucracy for very little time with the dinosaur cousins. All park guests had to crowd into a small office to meet the director of the park (who referred to himself condescendingly as Uncle Louis) and undergo a small interview: what is your name, nationality, purpose of visit, date of departure...etc. I don't know why I am continually amazed by Indonesia's bureaucracy and inefficiency. I suppose I had higher standards for a world heritage site such as Komodo National park, but that turned out to be a mistake on my part.
We saw two dragons in the first ten minutes of our tour (in the shade near the office) and spent the next two hours trekking through a barren land where, if I were a komodo dragon, I probably wouldn't want to lounge around. But the entrance was pretty grand!
Finding Nemo
On the eve of Idul Fitri we booked a 2-day tour on a diving boat with a company called Wicked Diving. After dinner that night at a delicious Indonesian restaurant called Pesona Bali, we heard the sound of dozens of teens revving their motors as they passed in a deliberately ear-splitting motorcade. There was obviously some celebratory spirit in the air mixed with some protest perhaps of all the white foreign tourists literally cutting an expensive, posh path through their town. It was as if they were suddenly expressing their anger on an occasion that would draw the attention away from their true underlying feelings.
With high spirits we rose the next morning to see yet another world beneath the surface. One of the things we liked most about this company was that they packed as many dives/snorkel trips into a day as was humanly possible. This averaged about three for me and four for my very enthusiastic dad (having acclimated to the tropics, I now get cold even quicker than I did before.) Before even entering the water we saw schools of flying silver fish jumping in synchrony over the gentle waves.
I loved watching the dive instructors speak in their highly technical instructions with their own divers sign language before each dive. The general vibe of the group was almost feverishly excited. We sheepishly raised our hands when asked who the two snorkelers of the group were. Everyone around us was at least on their 10th or even past their 100th dive. Although we didn't have the proper camera to capture the marine marvels, the pictures below, taken by a diver in the group who graciously shared his pictures with everyone, capture most of what we saw higher up on the reef. What we saw was turtles, the corrugated lips of giant clams, universities of fish so colorful that my dad joked that perhaps the less colorful fish had an inferiority complex, cowry shells, an eel, many wavey, tentacle-y animals that shrank back into their rocks when our instructor dove down to point them out and lots and lots of beautiful coral. One of my favorite sights was watching the waves from below the surface moving like a clear cloth that two people were raising and lowering above my head.
The divers talked about the sensation of catching a drift of fast-moving water as flying underwater. We didn't catch any particularly strong currents from where we were but I loved the image they placed in my mind.
All photo and video creds to Florian Faucher, my new diving friend from France. Note to self: invest in a GoPro camera before embarking on another underwater venture.
The photographer himself, haloed by fish.
Dad was reading "The Sixth Extinction" on this trip and remarked that our snorkeling tour could be improved if they showed us more of the rapidly disappearing coral reefs. As it was, we were looking at some of the healthiest coral reefs in the whole world in Komodo National Park. Right up there with the location/inspiration for Finding Nemo, the Great Barrier Reef.
Another interesting observation from my biologist dad was that blue is one of the more rare colors to find on land. Maybe that's part of the appeal of hydrangeas for me. Maybe that's also what made the blue starfish and schools of fish we saw so striking.
A manta ray - truly a majestic sight. It had a wing span of maybe 6 feet and all the while it was passing below us (this probably wasn't the same one) I couldn't help but hear the Darth Vader theme song playing in my head.
Snorkeling brought out an awe and reverence in us both, I think. My dad and I have done some traveling together in the past but this was one of the most ecologically and culturally diverse places we have explored together. I'm happy that we still share a love of traveling and that we're able to continue our tradition. I was so grateful to be able to share my greatest adventure with him.
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