FLORES

We left Kupang for Flores with some regret. We enjoyed the easy accommodation at Hotel Maliana (for about AUD20 we got our room (no shower of course but a bucket of cold water each morning makes for a good start to the day), breaky and, would you believe, afternoon tea!), the relaxed bar at Lavalon (reliable information, food, close to the water and an ever changing mix of travellers and backpackers), and of course the night market where for a dollar a good meal (course) is had from one of the myriad street food stalls cooking fish and chicken on micro BBQs (they close the street to the mad traffic each night). Of course for Will he enjoyed the company of Terry and John (cycling to Bangkok, and motor biking from UK to AUS, respectively). Will’s hire bike took some starting - the photo shows the boys trying to work it out (you had to put the stand up before starting it!).

A rusting ASDP ferry to Flores (15 hours) was our first taste of life on an Indonesian ferry. Typically, a couple or three cars squeezed amid the trucks and many motor bikes. Seeing the “lifeboat” canoe and easy to get to life jackets (see picture) brought back all the horror stories of terrible loss of life on storm hit Indonesian ferries (the sky and sea and all it potentially brought with it, was suddenly of great interest…)

People “slept” everywhere - all around the vehicles (including ours), on tops of trucks, on every horizontal surface, but mostly on sleeping platforms (in effect huge bunks), with about 15 or so people per bunk level. At least we could lie down with the rest of humanity, and listen to the phones playing tinny sounds of various sorts and portable music blasters blaring till after 1 or 2am (and then re-starting at 4am to welcome in the new day). Was that sleep I had or nightmare?

And so onto Flores - a week of hairpin bends and blind corners on very steep mountain roads soon brought home the reality of our journey. We seemed to follow Mr Pots and Pans for ever but he was far from alone in the outrageous loads competition. There were some highlights such as locals fishing just off deserted beaches (A canoe was frantically paddled in a small arc while dragging a net. Once the net was set, the fishermen hopped into the shallow water to frantically splash and dive to collect their catch before it got away), and of course the magical volcanic craters of Kelimutu and their lakes. While the colours (apparently) change, we saw a vivid turquoise with strings of yellow. With clouds boiling about, and few others bothering in the late afternoon, we had the crags and eroding crater rim almost to ourselves. I should (probably needlessly) add that Will was not content to join me in the car to drive here, but had to hire a motor bike for the ride to Kelimutu.