Week 94 - Bajawa, Moni, Maumere, Kupang (Indonesia)

We left the convent early to start the drive to Bajawa in the highlands. The road wound around the mountains through bamboo groves and rice terraces with roadworks everywhere - they seem to be in the middle of widening every single road on the island. We stopped for coffee at a row of wooden shacks overlooking a rice filled valley before continuing to Aimere where we stopped at a Warung to buy take away lunch.

Rice terraces viewed through one of the roadside bamboo groves, Bajawa.

Coffee stop, Bajawa.

Our next stop was at an arak distillery, just a small local family who made arak out front of their house. We took a brief look at the primordial process before tasting the three different classes of arak, dependent on the number of times it had been distilled. We ended up buying a bottle of the triple distilled, 1st grade arak before climbing back in the car for the short drive to a beach where we stopped to eat our picnic lunch. Washing his hands in the sea, Rhys discovered some bizarre looking critters that we later looked up in a crazy hippy womans dive book - glaucus atlanticus, commonly known as blue angels that shouldn’t be picked up as they can give a nasty sting.

Rhys and Karen with Fanny, practicing their arak faces.

We arrived in to Bajawa at a decent time and had a short break before Fanny drove us out to Soa, to the hot springs. We were surprised how nice the complex was with a couple of different pools and a small waterfall where the hot water cascaded into a cold stream below. We wallowed in the water for a couple of hours, being looked at by the locals, before heading back to the hotel. That night, after a couple of araks on the balcony and a chat with the crazy hippy woman, who Karen just loved, we walked into the town for dinner before another early night, only to be awoken by shouting as a group had gathered to watch the world cup game. 

Rhys at Soa hotsprings.

We had another early start leaving Bajawa, after the crazy hippy woman had stolen Karen’s pancake, to get to Luba and Bena, traditional Ngada villages. Although both villages are close together, Luba is far smaller and less visited. Both villages had the traditional thatched roof, wooden huts with buffalo horns and jaw bones nailed to the front doors to show the families prosperity and both villages had stunning mountain views. Luba was our favourite though, just because it felt less commercial, only 4 or 5 tourists had signed the visitor book each day and the inhabitants were just going about their everyday life while we wandered around the central square. We spent an hour or so wandering around the two villages before continuing on our drive to Moni.

Lady sorting coffee beans, Luba.

The approach to Bena.

Traditional houses in Bena.

After a couple of volcano view photo stops, that afternoon we pulled over at Blue Pebble Beach where stone collectors were gathering the bluest stones for sale by the roadside. Then, just before we arrived in Moni we pulled over at a strip of road lined with fruit and vegetable stalls, where we bought ridiculously cheap passion fruit.

Blue stone beach, near Moni.

Leaving Karen on her mini bed on the floor of our shared room, me and Rhys wandered out to explore Moni, it’s only a small place with one main road, so a walk through the village didn’t take long. We had the option of visiting another hot spring in town but as we had an early start we voted for a few drinks in the room and an early dinner instead. Stupidly we ordered arak cocktails to have with our meals. When they came out we couldn’t even identify the ingredients and they were so strong as to be undrinkable and only good for practicing our already near perfected ‘arak faces’. The only answer was to throw the drinks over the wall or in Rhys’s case, all over the floor.

The alarm went off at 3:45am to get us up, dressed and in the car for the 13km drive to Kelimutu. From the car park it was a short 1.5km walk up to Inspiration Point, the highest view point where we sat in the dark, shivering and huddled together for warmth, to await sunrise. We’d got our timing a little wrong and had an hour to wait. Sunrise was pretty and as it got lighter we could see the three crater lakes, all of different colours. Luckily, when we were there we had a bright turquoise, a black and a green (the lakes change colours and sometimes aren’t all that different from one another). 

Kelimutu at sunrise.

We didn’t stay for long after sunrise as we’d already been sitting there for ages and started the walk back to Moni. Passing Fanny in the car park we continued along the road to try to find a short cut back to town. We missed the first two turnoffs but found the third which cut 6km off the walk and took us through the fields and through little villages full of tiny piglets and waving locals drying their rice, coffee and nuts in the sun (everywhere you look there are things drying in the sun, usually on sacks by the roadside or in fact on any area of flat space).

We passed a waterfall, balanced across rickety bamboo bridges and emerged on the edge of Moni. Back at the guesthouse we had banana pancakes for breakfast before showering and packing our bags for the last leg of our Flores road trip. Fanny needed a break a couple of hours in so we stopped at a little warung on a beach before continuing to Sikka, a weaving centre on the coast. As soon as we stepped out of the car an army of local women fell on us to show us their wares. It was all a bit hectic but we managed to buy some small runners that we’d been after. Fanny said later that they get angry when tourists turn up and take photos but don’t buy and the village chief has to get involved. 

Ikat for sale, Sikka.

When we arrived in Maumere, Fanny had already called his friend to run us the last 25km to Waigete where we had accommodation booked. The entrance was down a rutted dirt track and we emerged at a collection of rustic bamboo huts on stilts sheltered by palm trees lining a grey pebble beach. Rhys and Karen instantly took a dislike to the place. It was basic, the mozzie nets were net curtains that didn’t quite fit the beds, the shower was a tap and bucket and the electricity only ran for 5 hours a night with no sockets in the rooms. 

Karen had to repack her bag with all the tourist tat she’d bought in the last three weeks and all the stuff she’s lugging back to the UK for us and we sat in her room with a Bintang debating whether she was over the weight limit or not. Rhys collected fire wood for a fire that never happened and after dinner (where Rhys and Karen the meat eaters weren’t impressed that you had to order fish or chicken a day in advance), we ended up in bed at 8pm, the early sunrise start having taken it out of us.

Karen chilling at Sunset Cottages, Maumere.

We slept well with the sea breeze blowing through the huts and the sounds of the waves against the shore, and were up early for coffee and a pancake. We had a couple of hours to chill, Karen finished packing and we caught up on chores, before the taxi was due to arrive to take Karen to the airport. We’d decided the huts were too basic and after spending the last week on a boat, a desert island and sitting in a car, the decision was made to move and find somewhere else to spend the next 3 nights before our flight to Timor. 

Karen’s taxi didn’t turn up and after a few phone calls the owner of the resort was unable to track him, or another driver down and ended up taking us to the airport himself. As we’d told him we were leaving to get a plane also, and not to find somewhere else to stay, we ended up going to the airport too, where we said our goodbyes to Karen, fingers crossed that her luggage wasn’t hugely over the weight limit. Karen is always great fun and we’re glad she’ll still be in London when we come home, it wouldn’t be the same without her.

Leaving the airport we got talking to a taxi driver who suggested a place he knew of a few kilometres from town on the beach. We thought it was worth a look and jumped in. He took us to a place called Blue Ocean. Although it was double the price of the first place we stayed it was brand new and very well done, little cottages set around a lovely garden and decorated with beams and lintels carved in Bena, the traditional Ngada village we’d visited earlier in the week near Bajawa. When we arrived there was a group of about 50 local women meeting in the garden and they were all intrigued to see white people making it a but awkward to sit out and we ended up chilling in the room. We walked to the main road and realised we were in the middle of nowhere and a bit limited on the meal front so we ordered home cooked dinner at our guesthouse and ate biscuits for lunch.

Once the meeting had ended and the ladies had gone home, we grabbed a beer to watch the sun go down over the beach, a decent stretch of black sand where you couldn’t really sit because of all the local attention. We ate grilled fish overlooking the beach, joined by the manager and two locals who sat and watched. It was nice to chat to them in broken english but a bit uncomfortable being watched.

After breakfast the next day, we rented a scooter to ride in to town. Maumere isn’t the prettiest place in the world and doesn’t really offer much to tourists. After circling the town for a while we decided to head east to the Sea World Resort, a hotel we’d heard was nice and thought might make a good lunch stop. The resort had a nice beach and when we arrived, a group of ladies demonstrating ikat weaving. We ended up buying a few bracelets before taking a seat in the restaurant for lunch.

Ikat weaving at the Sea World Resort, Maumere.

Back at our guesthouse, we had a couple of hours to relax before we rode back into Maumere to use the internet at a smart hotel in town. As it had begun to rain, dinner was served at our cottage which meant we could eat without being watched.

The world cup final was on at 3am the next morning although we’d been told it was at 2am. Despite having set our alarm, just after 1am there was a knock at our door, the guy whose house we’d been invited to to watch was waking us up. We mimed that we’d be there in a bit and went back to bed. At 2am we were in his living room and we had an awkward hour to wait until kick-off. Once the game started, more and more people turned up at his door, all the men wrapped in their ikat sarongs. We were struggling to stay awake and were glad when Germany scored in extra time (especially glad because I bet on Germany and Rhys had Argentina) as it meant we could go back to bed. 

We only emerged for a late breakfast just before midday. The weather wasn’t great again but we decided to head east on the bike to see if we could find any nice coves. We failed, it was pretty litter strewn and it was hard to find beach access. We ended up riding straight back to ours and picking up the laptops to head back to the smart hotel in town to catch up on admin. 

Back in our room we had a bee problem and had to move to another room. That night the owner of the guesthouse, Ignas had prepared a special meal as we were staying for three nights. We had the most delicious sashimi along with a BBQ snapper and a glass of apple arak to wash it down. We stayed up to chat for a while before bed. Ignas is an extremely interesting and intelligent man, his guesthouse was beautiful and his plans to expand are brilliant, in a couple of years I don’t doubt The Blue Ocean will be one of the best places to stay in the whole of Flores. 

The next day we had a flight booked to Kupang in West Timor. Ignas drove us to the airport, running out of petrol on route and then being reversed in to in the car park. He came in with us to translate at the office as Karen’s bag had gone missing somewhere on her flight from Maumere to Bali (and still hasn’t been tracked). The flight was pain free and we landed and jumped in a taxi to our hostel, supposedly the place to go in Kupang for backpackers. The hostel was horrible, luckily they didn’t have a record of our booking and directed us to their bar on the beach where they had some newer rooms. Again, no record of booking and the private rooms were full. We ended up walking around and found a decent place close by where we settled for the day.

As it was my birthday we jumped on two ojeks (motorbike taxis) to take us into town to buy a few drinks to enjoy in the room and later that night, we headed to a nice restaurant that Rhys had spotted from the taxi on the way in.