I was definitely "off the beaten path" now. The boat ride from Komodo was quite nice, with clear weather, countless islands jutting up from the blue ocean, and dolphins jumping in the wake of the boat's bow. Very few tourists continue east from Bali, and those of us on the ferry naturally banded together, sharing travel stories and bits of information we'd heard about the islands of Nusa Tenggara. A small group of us who were headed in more or less the same path hung out for a night in the port city of Labuanbajo, and hopped a bus the next morning towards the interior city of Bajawa where we'd read about the thriving indigenous Ngada culture. It was a two-day bus journey, with a sleepover in Ruteng. The higher elevation brought about welcomed cooler weather, and I picked up some heavier ikat sarongs that I saw many locals wearing - they were almost as big as sleeping bags and looked quite comfortable. Flores is very mountainous, making for some serious white-knuckle busrides along winding cliffside roads. And it was very wet, turning those winding cliffside roads into treacherous muddy trails. There was no snoozing on those rides!

Our arrival in Bajawa was a bit hectic, as we were immediately hustled for rooms, guides, you name it the instant we stepped off the bus. But once our accomodations were sorted out, things relaxed and we dropped off some laundry and strolled around the market. My attempt to dress like a local brought me a lot of attention - I suppose they weren't expecting to see a big white guy wearing local attire, and I'm sure I'd made some obvious faux pas in how I had arranged my sarong. I certainly didn't mind being the butt of a few jokes, since everyone was smiling and laughing. Good ice-breaker I guess... Anyway, the next day we set off on a guided tour of the nearby Ngada villages of Bena, Luba, Langa, and Soa, and it was quite a nice experience. A typical Ngada clan lives in a set of bamboo houses with steep grass roofs, situated around the sacred ngadhu and bhaga structures. The ngadhu is a wooden post carved out of the trunk of a ngadhu tree, with a grass umbrella at its top. It symbolizes "male" and channels the protection of the clan's ancestors. The bhaga is a miniature house-shaped wooden room symbolizing "female" and housing the ancestors' spirits, who are summoned during festivals. In times of strife or at major events such as funerals and weddings, sacrifices must be made to the ancestors - the first blood spilled from a sacrificed buffalo or chicken must fall onto the ngadhu, and the heart is then taken to the bhaga where the villagers somehow ascertain whether the ancestors are pleased. Much of daily life revolves around ancestor worship - in addition to the village bhaga, each house contains a ceremonial room with a very small door dedicated to deceased family members. After envisioning Ngada life for a few hours, the tour ended with a dip in a nice little hot spring, where we were surrounded by villagers who sat and stared, smiling. I had a vague feeling of being in the zoo, but not on the side of the cage that I was used to. A little "reverse tourism" I guess since we had just intruded on their daily lives...

After several days of the cool, wet highland climate, I was eager to get back to the beach. I set out the next day with a young American couple and we headed north to Riung, on the north coast of Flores. Apparently the road from Bajawa to Riung had just been completed, and we were excited at the prospect of an "undiscovered" beach destination. Well, the road may have been completed, but it was already in desparate need of repair! It was a real nail-biting experience - sliding through washed-out mud on the edge of steep mountain hills. At one point all passengers had to hop off the bus and push so that the driver could get past a particularly nasty bit. But we made it up over the crest of the hills without [serious] incident, and the ride down the other side was smooth. As we continued north the rain stopped and the road became drier. My pack full of soaking wet clean clothes might have a chance to dry out! After about 3.5 hours we were almost to Riung, and as we drew near the bus driver put in some island-style music. By the time we got to town I was in full relax mode. We were dropped at Tamri Beach homestay, our only option which luckily was absolutely lovely. A quick glance in their guestbook revealed that we were only the sixth guests in a month! The modest price included all meals, and it was quite comfortable. Riung itself is a small fishing village consisting of a few rows of bamboo houses on stilts. Quiet, warm, partly cloudy, with the sounds of children playing ukelele drifting by... Nice!

Our days in Riung consisted of lazy walks, games of euchre, reading in the shade of the palm trees, and exploring the beautiful uninhabited islands just off shore. There were rumors of Komodo dragons around here, and I did see one rather large (maybe 1.5m?) monitor lizard by the mangrove at the water's edge. Certainly the geckos hanging out in my room were bigger than any I'd ever seen, with deep voices to match! At night the shapes of enormous insects kept me from venturing out from under my mosquito net. The folks at the homestay helped us charter a little boat, and we spent a wonderful day exploring a few of the Pulau Tujuh Belas - literally, the "Seventeen Islands" . Several of the islands were little more than atolls, strewn with wonderful seashells of the kind that I had always imagined I might find in some far-flung corner of the world such as this: nautilus, spider conch, large clams, etc. The snorkeling was great, revealing soft coral, urchins, tons of sea stars, and little garden eels.

For me one of the coolest surprises lay in the mangrove trees near town. As we were setting off for the Seventeen Islands, our boat captain stayed close to shore for a few minutes after we had passed the village houses. I suddenly realized what the black shapes were that were hanging in the trees: flying foxes! Thousands of them! A huge colony of giant fruit bats roosted in the mangrove, and it was incredible. Most were just hanging there, but some were flying around our boat. The trees were alive with loud squeeking noises. It was wild watching them take off and land - a big bat would fly towards a tree branch, catching it with its feet as it flew past and swinging down into the characteristic upside down bat resting position. I snapped a bunch of photos as we puttered back and forth for a while - I hadn't imagined such a site!

I left Riung incredibly satisfied and rested, and after several false starts eventually found a bus that took me back across Flores towards the southern coast, following the zig zag road that would eventually lead to the major tourist attraction on the island, Keli Mutu. The first stop was Ende, and the scenery along the southern coast into town for the last half of the trip was fantastic - blows away California's highway 1 for sure! I was feeling pretty comfortable with local travel by now - the bus had a live goat lashed to the roof with the luggage, and numerous chickens flopped around inside with the passengers. My main purpose in Ende was to book passage to Sulawesi. I would have to cross once again to the north coast, to Maumere, where the ferry to Ugung Pandang was to leave in four days. Perfect. The next morning I purchased a couple more ikat sarongs, and then hopped a bus for the short ride again up into the mountains, to Moni.

There were quite a few European tourists in Moni, the village that served as a launching point for excursions up to Keli Mutu. I was staying at the Homestay Amina Moe, run by a couple of super nice older local ladies who constantly chewed betel nuts. (The restaurant next door whipped up the most amazing guacamole I've ever tasted. They grow some delicious avocadoes here!) The homestay was pretty packed, and it was fun hearing about everyone's adventures. No shortage of good stories! Before dawn the next morning a bunch of us hopped in a truck and rode 45 minutes in the dark up to the summit of Keli Mutu, a volcano with three lakes at the summit - all differently colored due to the variety of volcanic gases feeding them from below. Luckily it was a crystal clear morning, and we waited in the cold for sunrise. (I wrapped up in my Ngada sarong - it's excellent for this sort of thing...) The lakes were spectacular. One was bright green, and the other two looked black until the sun rose high enough to reveal that one of them was actually a deep red color. All were surrounded by steep cliffs, and two of the lakes were separated only by a very narrow isthmus of rocks. Wild. We strolled around for a couple hours before hiking back down to Moni. Along the way down we came across a lovely waterfall, ate some fresh avocadoes, and managed to find a warung serving up good strong coffee. Colorful tropical birds flew by, and it was an excellent walk. The rain held out until I was back at the homestay, and then the clouds burst. Banana pancakes were waiting, and I was in heaven. I hit the sack for four hours...

The next morning I boarded another bus, this time headed north again across the island towards Maumere through typically beautiful Flores mountain scenery. As soon as I got off the bus I went straight to the Pelni office and stood in line for about 45 minutes to get my ferry ticket: economy class! The hotels were full (they fill up whenever big ferries are scheduled), and I wound up in a shithole called Hotel Bogor, not to be confused with the much nicer Hotel Bogor II (next door, which would have been my first choice). So I was stuck sleeping in a dark nasty-smelling room with 9 beds. On the brighter side, I didn't have to worry about missing the ferry since the other 8 beds were filled by locals who also had to get up to catch it. There wasn't much to do in Maumere, so I spent the afternoon practicing my Bahasa with the hotel staff. They were eager to practice their English so it was sort of a mutual exchange. Even here in the dregs of a dingy port town I was amazed at the kindness of the local people. I had a wonderful fish dinner (nasi ikan) and managed to sleep soundly until about 3 a.m., as everyone was loudly waking up to catch the ferry. I heard the boat horn at 4, and hustled down to the dock. It was madness! The ship is huge, and I waited in the midst of a crowd of hundreds of other travellers while the current passengers disembarked. Then we surged forward into various waiting rooms and waited some more, then a mad rush for the ship at 6 a.m.! It was a crushing chaos, but I managed to hold my ground and made it onto the ship, sweating and exhausted. Supposedly everyone gets a bed, even in ekonomi, but there simply weren't enough. I did manage to get most of a bench to myself. It was going to be a long 24-hour ride...