Indonesia
Indonesia nearly broke us in the planning stages. In the 10 months we have been traveling (plus the year leading up to this trip), we’ve never struggled as much with choice. In our defense, the country has 17,508 islands spread over a distance equivalent east/west to the width of the United States. Amidst the many islands are different religions and their ancient monuments, volcanos that can be hiked (some with blue flames), places with intriguing names like the Spice Islands, and animals like the birds of paradise, orangutans, manta rays, and Komodo dragons. No island has it all, and each interest lies in a different direction. Overlanding is often impossible, ferries are long, and regional flights are expensive and often on airlines with questionable safety records. Chris tells me (after first explaining that for a long time, pilots were barred by their companies from even traveling on some Indonesian airlines as passengers) that things have recently been improving in terms of safety. While in the preceding countries, we studied travel books and travel blogs, sought advice from friends and our internal compasses, and with hours and days sunk into attempted planning, still struggled to come up with a feasible itinerary that was safe, was confined to the 30-day visa, and didn't entail near-continuous transit. We finally settled on an itinerary we hoped would give us a flavor of this massive archipelago and will save the remaining 17,504 islands for a later trip!
Of note; Indonesia is so expansive that while we were in the archipelago there was a volcano eruption in Sulawesi (an island in the northeast) that made international news due to required evacuations and risk of tsunamis. This had zero impact on the islands we visited, though it didn't stop our parents from clarifying!
Sarinbuana, Bali
Bali was a surprise for us. The name “Bali” conjures mixed images. One thinks of rich culture and beautiful nature but also bougie resorts, expensive shopping, yoga retreats, and intoxicated young visitors from English-speaking countries. We managed to evade what felt more superficial and coopted and get quickly into nature.
After arriving at Denpasar airport, we high-tailed it north to Batukaru Mountain, where Marlene had found a jungle stay with good access to nature and bird watching. The house had big windows for nature viewing and a small kitchen for a truly self-contained stay. What the photos don’t show however is that this house is a bit of an “indoor/outdoor” situation as none of the doors or windows lined up entirely with their frames. Thus, we shared our stay with bees, beetles, ants, geckos, dragonflies, spiders, butterflies (this one I didn’t mind), weird-looking hybrids of half spider half lobster, moths…you get the idea. We were regularly trying to save trapped butterflies and assist the exit of curious spiders. The worst encounter came after I (Chris) pulled a shirt out of my backpack at 5 AM and found a “hand-sized” spider which, of course suddenly disappeared somewhere in the room while I ran to the kitchen to find a glass to catch it with.
Additionally, though we are inclined to romanticize nature, the sounds of cicadas were at one point as loud as a construction site. This went on until in frustration Chris threw several small cuts of wood (intended for the fireplace) in the general direction of the sound until he finally got close enough to shock the cicadas into at least a temporary silence so we could think… and hear the more enticing sounds of birds and monkeys.
Truly though, we were happy to tolerate the invertebrate inhabitants of the jungle to live amongst the trees, monkeys, and birds.
As soon-to-be Audubon-ers (despite my (Chris’) best attempts to not become my parents), we signed up for an early morning bird-watching tour with a local guide. In the dense foliage, we heard quite a few more than we saw but I still managed to capture a few shaky videos with my trusty iPhone and binoculars (the best being the one of the Cerulean kingfisher…sorry in advance that YouTube forced it into a “shorts” format). The second video is of a flame-fronted barbet.
Though billed as a bird-watching tour, our guide, who’d lived in the region all his life, also introduced us to the edible jungle around us. It seemed every tree and bush offered a different food in almost an embarrassment of riches. We found jackfruit, coffee, avocado, papaya, bananas. We collected mangosteens that had grown too heavy for their branches and now littered the earth around us.
The early start was for birds… but the sunrise over the volcano was also pretty spectacular.
From our house one afternoon, we spotted a family of macaque monkeys traversing the treetops in search of food! We watched as one by one the monkeys leapt from the large tree to the small one below (see video). It was pretty spectacular.
We realized this seemed to happen each night at about 6 PM so we learned to plan for our evening’s entertainment. The monkeys came and screeched, fought, and crashed through the trees around dusk whether the sky was clear or torrential rains and subsequent fogs were feeding oversaturated vegetation.
Just like on the tour de Mont Blanc, where we watched the chamois cross the scree, we sat and watched as one by one, the monkeys scaled down the same branches, took a scrambling, scampering start, and made the jump to the next tree, where they landed with a crash and the branches rebounded violently. Grace was not the word.
A few hour's walk south of the jungle were beautiful rice terraces. Having spent the past three months in Southeast Asia during the dry season, it was nice to finally see these fields in their green glory.
Walking back to our home from the rice fields, we spotted a familiar sight in Southeast Asia…Not the spirit houses of Thailand, Laos, and Cambodia… this time it was Hindu family shrines/temples.
Ubud, Bali
We left our magical treehouse, and, moved a little bit south and a little bit east to the city of Ubud.
The roads on this island are narrow. Incredibly narrow…. Normally things work out; a car pulls over to allow a van to move through, a line of motorcycles carefully pass on the shoulder, etc. Once in a while, everything lines up perfectly wrong, and two busses arrive head to head at a tight corner and everything comes to a complete standstill. In the photo below, we watched as people (some of them with the bus’, some from nearby cars, and some who walked over from nearby houses) all tried to instruct bus drivers out of the jam. After more than 20 minutes of yelling and jockeying, the buses were freed and we kept moving..at least until the next bus impasse five kilometers down the road.
Marlene found another bird walk, this time through the rice fields of Ubud. The birds were plentiful; we spotted Javan kingfishers, olive-backed sunbirds, yellow-vented bulbul’s, and more.
Our host, Su, was from a local rice-farming family. She identified plants (cloves, hibiscus, ficus, breadfruit), birds, insects, and butterflies, and even showed us a stash of gecko eggs. She also was able to explain much of the farming process to us; how water is shared, what risks to the crops exist, and why cattle egrets are omnipresent when a field is being plowed.
Late spring marks the start of the rice harvest and the fields are strikingly green.
The photo below depicts what looks like freshly cut rice stalks, in fact, the rice stalks have been knocked down by the previous night’s heavy rain and wind (which also woke us). The farmer on the right is braiding a bouquet for the rice goddess that will be put in the granary at harvest time.
Below, farmers work the fields by hand.
On this farm, a field is plowed with the aid of a machine and quite a young farmer. The cattle egrets stand by to snag eels and insects that are stirred up in the process.
Below is the rice “nursery” with sprouts that are now ready to be planted in the field.
Sprouts that have been planted can be seen below.
Many narrow cement paths cross through the paddies and allow for the transit of farmers with wheelbarrows, scooters, or bicycles... Su often had us move to the left side of the path; warning us that the farmers on motorbikes passing us carried their sickles in their right hand!
Below, the man in front is carrying an offering to bless the harvest, followed by a man carrying a heavy bag of rice on his head.
Domestic ducks are everywhere out here, happily dabbling through the wet paddies.
Walking paths connect the town with the farms.
And the day was completed with coconut!
Hinduism
Bali is predominantly Hindu and beautiful evidence is everywhere.
Small offerings can be seen in front of almost every business here. These offerings may contain flowers, crackers, sweets, rice, cigarettes, incense, etc. These gave the streets of Bali a beautiful smell and color but attention was required not to step on or kick them!
Some can be very simple…
At one point we saw a squirrel availing of the offerings.
Amed
A three-hour van ride north and east of Ubud brought us to the coastal fishing town of Amed. We planned to learn to dive here. Unfortunately, I (Chris) got sick a few days prior. I hadn’t been sick once on this trip and the one time it matters, of course I do. Diving is not a great idea with chest congestion as lung damage risk is associated with pressure changes in ascent and descent. Not worth the risk… though I was tempted.
Instead, we enjoyed a few days on the beach, we completed the online portion of the diving instruction, read, worked on the blog, and snorkeled over a fairly incredible Japanese shipwreck.
Watching fishing boats return to shore.
Pretty incredible sunsets
And of course spending some time playing with the resident cats.
Gili Air
We next made our way from Bali to Gili Air, by ferry. Gili Air is one of three small Gili islands that sit off the west coast of Lombok. Having heard horror stories of the ferry ride (violent seas leading to a rocking boat leading to a cacophony of crying and puking) we sought the biggest/most stable/slowest ferry we could find. The journey turned out fine (perhaps thanks to several Bintang Radlers the boat crew were happy to sell us at a premium).
Gili Air is tiny. So tiny that I (Chris) was able to jog its 3-mile perimeter each morning. And that we wondered about the plan in case of a tsunami… The island does not allow motorized vehicles (which was a treat after many months of navigating an excess of motorcycles/busses/cars across Southeast Asia). You can rent bikes (but it’s so sandy that I’m not sure why you would). If you’re feeling extra lazy, locals offer lifts on their horse-drawn carts.
Because the Gili’s are an island paradise, there were plenty of foreigners in swimsuits, snorkeling, diving, and drinking cocktails. However, the inhabitants of the islands are Muslim. It was a reflection-provoking juxtaposition to see elderly women in hijabs tending thin cows in the tropical foliage, against the backdrop of the white sand and pristine blue sea full of foreign snorkelers.
We can’t deny we were those tourists, and we spent a few great days snorkeling with turtles (really regretting not bringing an underwater camera at this point), and walking the island. Marlene was relegated to finishing up her section of the Vietnam blog (…yes, we were 3 months behind at this point…).
We also stumbled upon some live music on our first night (which, unlike the usual live music on islands, was not covers of the Eagles). A talented local man played a few originals and a few crowd requests by the sea.
Gili air also hosts some pretty great sunsets
Our next and final destination in Indonesia was Komodo island.
The Long Journey
In our Indonesia decision-making, we’d decided to prioritize Komodo Island, one of the five islands in the world (all in the Indonesian archipelago) where Komodo dragons exist. This was in part because we’d found an opportunity to stay with a ranger who worked in Komodo National Park. The cost of the typical multi-day, live-aboard boat tours of the region was well outside our budget. This more affordable opportunity would allow us to spend time with an Indonesian family who would receive our money directly, as well as allow us to see the infamous dragons.
This plan, however, meant getting from Gili Air to Komodo Island, quite a bit further east, and several islands away. We decided to overland/over-sea the journey. Below is what that three-day journey entailed. Following, are some stories from the resultant visit. We think the journey was worth it.
Wednesday
Gili Air to Mataram, Lombok
On Wednesday morning, we took a short ferry from Gili Air to Lombok. We arrived in Lombok with the scores of other tourists exiting the Gili’s. We walked past men eagerly offering taxis to a driver Chris had arranged. The man (found via Google) would drive us to the city center bus station, about 1.5 hours away. This seemed to be the only feasible way to make it in time for the next leg of our trip.
We arrived at the bus station in Mataram at noon. It was old and sparsely populated. There were rows of metal seats, some rows of four occupied with people stretched out and sleeping. On either side of the rows of seats were intimidating food stalls; no pictures, no words we could translate, just women sitting with pots and woks, awaiting requests from a cultural menu in which we weren’t well versed. We’d just about found a place to sit, and doffed our packs, and three older men were around us asking how we were, where we were from, where we were going, and if we needed bus tickets. We were of course, immediately on guard but recognized we were in a desolate bus station with no real means of ‘escape’.
Perhaps unsurprisingly to the reader, we did not, in fact, need tickets. Chris had arranged to pick up tickets from one Mr. Argas. Chris… determined, frugal, and with endless patience for and trust in the internet… had found Mr. Argas by translating an Indonesian travel blog. The blogger had listed the number for a man he’d used to get a fair price on a ticket for a bus that goes across the island of Lombok, onto a ferry, and then across the next island east, West Nussa Tengarra. Chris used Google Translate and WhatsApp to contact the Indonesian-speaking man. Mr. Argas was to meet us before our 3 PM bus.
Mataram, Lombok to Ferry
Of the men that surrounded us, one, paunch and glittering watch-laden sat in the row of metal seats in front of us. He leaned over the back of the seat towards us, smoking and staring at his phone as he thumbed the ash off his cigarette. One sat beside us and another stood. We decided, with nowhere to go, we’d just wait out what was a failed sale turned half-hearted conversation attempt. The first two quickly, after first addressing Obama’s connections to Jakarta… and Biden being the US president… fatigued of us and made their way elsewhere. The third, a thin leathery man, found out we were headed to Komodo. Instead of making a sale, with his wide milky eyes looking somewhere between us said, “Oh Komodo!…Big dragon!” and grinned as he brought his hands together like clamping jaws. He too then slipped off. We, relieved, managed to get lunch by observing someone ordering and simply pointing at him… and then at ourselves… the universal indicator of “the same, please?” This landed us rice, a chicken leg, and a bowl of instant ramen.
Eventually milky-eyed Eddie returned, took our acknowledging him as invitation enough, and settled in beside us. Fed, and with a couple of hours to kill, we didn’t bother resisting. We wanted to meet people in our travels, didn’t we? Over the next hour or so, he went on in bits of English and Indonesian to tell us of a French man who’d tried to feed a Komodo dragon and ended up bitten (story complete with demonstration of the bite and then of how his arm had to be bandaged). He versed us in Indonesian from asking how much something costs, to how to say ‘good morning’, ‘good afternoon’, ‘good evening’, ‘goodbye’, ‘thank you’, and ‘I’m going to keep walking’. He told us about brief late 80s work in Australia and how his father had been in the army in the 40’s and his brother currently served. And at 2:30 he walked us to our bus to meet Mr. Argas.
Only then did the cynic in us rest as we were asked by Eddie for nothing. He led us to our bus and to a smiling Mr. Argas who, with a hand clasp, gave us our tickets and ushered us to our seats on what was quite a comfortable bus. We, the only foreigners, observed as the pre-journey rituals began. A guitarist serenaded us before making a round down the aisle with his hat for change, and a man with bags of snake fruit followed, offering his wares. And somehow in a bus driver’s habit uniform across nations, from Albania to Indonesia, the requisite crooning woman and modern techno beat blasted from the radio.
We hit the road, and bit by bit people fell asleep as we made our way across Lombok. To our left, the sky darkened and rain clouds gathered with Mount Rinjani in the distance. We passed brick and concrete houses with terracotta tile roofs. Verdant foliage and palm trees were interrupted by mosque’s piercing minarets of gold and blue. Qubba’s (the round domes of the mosques) of yellow and jade looked like spinning tops turned upside down in the trees. Square plots of water mirrored the sky, interrupted only by orderly sprouts of green rice plants. Along the perimeters ducks waddled.
The bus moved in and out of oncoming traffic. “Most lug nuts must win”, Chris concluded as trucks and motorbikes and cars got out of the way to the sight of the oncoming bus and the sound of the frequently used horn. A little girl in the tiniest white hijab bounced in the front row behind the driver as the bus veered and tackled bits of unpaved road. We stopped intermittently as cardboard boxes, sacks of produce in colorful mesh bags, and even motorbikes were loaded into the underbelly of the bus.
We reached the eastern edge of Lombok by 6 PM. We sat on the bus while salespeople squeezed their way down the aisle with trays of banana leaf-wrapped meals and bags of fried tofu squares. We bought two banana leaf wraps, which our limited Indonesian led us to believe were comprised of chicken (ayam) and rice (nasi). We opened them to find white rice neatly separated by a fold of banana leaf from a mix of chicken, and noodles (mie) at a level of spice we appreciated but were not accustomed to getting as foreigners! We were then signaled to exit and we walked to the ferry.
Ferry
The sun was setting as we walked past sidewinding crabs on the sand and still starfish in the clear shallow water and onto the large ferry. We chose seats in the rows of chairs and watched the sunset over the hills in the east as our bus parked below deck.
It wasn’t long before a blind man took the stage, made an extensive and animated introduction that we tried and failed to get Google Translate to convert to English for us, and handed the mic off to a woman who began to sing. Though the volume seemed excessive, the Indonesian songs were beautiful and were followed by some duets. When not actively singing they played recordings of themselves singing! At least it prevented us from dosing off on the ferry when we both wanted to sleep on the next overnight leg of the journey.
A few others who weren’t fans of the karaoke found a quieter place to sleep…
On the ferry, we met the only two other foreigners on the journey, two middle-aged Australian women. They were mildly panicked, as they’d believed they could take the ferry and then book an accommodation in the local town on the other side. They’d since found that no such town and no such accommodation existed without a two-hour drive. It seems once you start this multi-day journey toward Komodo, there’s no getting off till you’re through! Luckily they found two open seats on one of the busses below deck and were able to continue onward. One didn’t hesitate to mention strongly regretting not taking a flight... as she eyed her partner.
About two hours later, the ferry drew to port, we followed a couple of Indonesian passengers from our original bus (never get off without memorizing a few faces) below deck between trucks and back onto our bus. We took off at speed. The next stop was at about 10:30 PM for dinner.
Thursday
On to Bima
We re-boarded the bus after dinner and dozed in and out of a sleep that was never devoid of high-volume music. It must’ve been the driver’s means of staying awake. We arrived in Bima in the dark at 4 AM on Thursday.
We made our way to a toilet and then found our next chariot, a sort of submarine-looking bus.
Loathe to sit again so soon, and assuming that this bus wouldn’t leave till 6 AM, after all additional buses from Mataram had arrived, we stood outside in the dusty lot kicking around and killing time.
We met the Australians again. They wasted no time in taking two seats on the bus. The one who yearned for a flight sprawled herself over a bench in the back and covered her eyes. The other, wide-eyed with excitement and shock described a very familiar-sounding meal… a banana leaf with rice and noodles, the tiniest bit of chicken, and we laughed as she lamented the minuscule amount of chicken and an overwhelming level of spice!
We dropped our bags to claim seats and stepped back outside. In what seems to be an Indonesian bus stop tradition, a man came up and stood by us. Indonesia is tricky; the same scams and salespeople exist that do in any other country but the people in general are also exceptionally friendly. Looking like a tourist at a transit hub in a foreign country generally means you’re a sitting duck, but in this particular country, we were learning to wait out the chat a bit and often, it’s just that, a chat.
From 4 AM to 6 AM we covered: whether Chris and I were married, when I was going to have some boys, and of course Obama’s connections to Indonesia. He then instructed us in what ended up being some very valuable Indonesian phrases. Much was a repetition of what we’d learned earlier but on this next exposure, some of the words and phrases began to stick. Intermittently other men would stop by to lean on one of the two busses we stood between and listen, and they’d compare how many different Indonesian languages they could say something like ‘breakfast’ or ‘eat’.
The man took us through numbers, and meals (including the midnight meal), and reiterated the greetings for all times of day, (selamat pagee — good morning, selamat siang — good day, selamat soray — good afternoon, and selamat malam — good evening). Our favorite was how to say “walking walking” jalan jalan. This seems to refer to the indefinite walk we often need to express to those trying to cajole us into a taxi or motorbike ride. This was decidedly distinct from just “walking” or galando which was just from here to there, a 5-minute walk. We also learned sedicki sedicki, another handy phrase that means “little little” and could be used to indicate anything, from how much Indonesian we spoke, to how much spice we wanted, to how many giant clam eggs we needed (what was zero?), to how scared we were of Komodo dragons.
He listed the main islands of the archipelago and named the mountains and volcanos of each, and next, we covered soccer and tennis. He mentioned his daughter/son/princess (the word changed with each reference) studying in China and how he wanted to visit her there.
We ultimately found he was just another man on a journey; he had left his job in the gold mines in Sumbawa and was headed an hour away from Bima to his home village to see his mom (80 years old) and grandmother (120,000 years old). It seemed his immediate family and wife lived on Java and he traveled to Sumbawa to work for weeks at a time.
As the sun rose and stubby stubby-tailed cats meandered by and the mosquitos increased in number, the last bus from Mataram arrived, the last bags were strapped to the roof of our bus, and we said goodbye with a handshake, wished him well on his visit home, and continued the next two hours to Sape.
Bima to Sape
From Bima to Sape the doors on the bus were left open and the cool breeze was welcome. We passed green valleys and browner hills of a more arid climate. We drove along dusty roads passing squawking chickens and women in all forms of head adornment; hijabs, conical hats, and coils of fabric supporting baskets of produce or water.
Ferry #2
At about 10 AM we arrived for the final step of our journey to Labuan Bajo. After an 8-hour ferry, we’d sleep in Labuan Bajo and then take the final ferry to Komodo Island. We were dropped at the waterfront in a town called Sape. This was the very tip of the island we’d just traversed; West Nusa Tenggara. The small ticket building was empty save for an older barefoot man asleep on a set of chairs, and bits of trash blowing in the warm breeze coming in the open window. The ticket window was dark and closed.
Quite quickly several local men, one live-streaming our misfortune on his phone, informed us the ferry was not running today. A motley crew of confused and sleepy backpackers in drips and drabs all found out the same disappointing news. The explanation being that it was a holiday… holy day? We never quite figured it out.
There was some discussion of chartering a private boat but upon hearing the price of $100 per person and seeing the boat, small and wooden, and considering the 5 hours on the seas, it seemed much more prudent to walk into town for the night.
We were assisted in communication with a local hotelier by a man named Arif who seemed to speak the most English in town. He is interested in helping tourists and is single-handedly trying to elevate the status of Sape from a transit town to a tourism destination. He helped us book a simple room in the local hotel with a shower, and AC. Most other backpackers eventually accepted fate and arrived at the same spot. Arif later helped us get a meal, and had us, sweaty and fatigued from the journey, do a Facebook live to explain how we’d arrived in the transit town of Sape and how he’d helped us. We later heard he’d taken the Australians on a tour of town and home to meet his wife and child!
A Night in Sape
So it had happened to us, 11 months into traveling we had had slim to no hiccups in transport but here we were stuck in a so-called transit town for the night. Though this delayed us, I was not unhappy to spend the next few hours sleeping in a bed rather than on an 8-hour ferry. We slept, the WiFi was strong enough for a bit of Seinfeld, and we ate. At dusk, we wandered from the port towards the main town. As the call to prayer sounded, we passed colorful wooden buildings on stilts, and people walking out towards urchins in the low tide. The streets came alive in the cool air after sunset and small children daringly looked at us saying “Hello hello! Hello misses! Hello mister!” We responded with hello or trialed salamat melam ( good night) or salamat tingal (goodbye). At their success and our response, the children screeched and squealed with delight. With each successful selamat melam, we controlled the impulse but felt similarly.
Friday
Early the next morning we went again to get ferry tickets. The once desolate port was now a hive of activity. The man who’d bore us the bad news the day before welcomed us back with a smile and a shout of “hello!” and “Salamat pagee (good morning)”! He was again keeping the world updated, via live-streaming, of the busy excitement at the port. We bought tickets, had a lovely breakfast from a local vendor, and watched as produce, people, trucks, and bikes made their way onto the ferry before we too were ushered on.
This ferry… ALMOST the final step in getting to Komodo was eight hours. Most of the locals, the majority of those on the large ferry, opted for ‘beds’ in the middle of the boat. These were simple bunk beds with black mats where people went to lie down and congregate. After sitting on metal seats for five hours, we understood why, at a point when no more beds were available. At one point, I put my thin, quick-dry towel on the ground between seats and slept.
Finally, at sunset, on Friday, we saw Labuan Bajo in the distance. We hurriedly got our bags, got off, and walked passed the many taxi offers from the port to our accommodation. Chris rented a go-pro to capture what we might see in the coming days, and we packed light bags to take the next morning to Komodo.
Komodo Village
“Go ahead”, Chris urged me as we sat over a breakfast of eggs, rice, and sambal with two middle-aged Swiss French tourists and our homestay host, Jeckie. The three of them were preparing to head out to sea for the day and Chris and I were to make our way back to Labuan Bajo via public ferry. “Jeckie…” I asked, “Could you tell us the origin story of the dragons just once more ?”
Though at this point, he’s run off his feet managing and hosting informal tours of his homeland… like I cannot resist a good story, he cannot resist telling his. And I shamelessly took advantage. “Okay”, he willingly complied and we all lost track of time as he began.
What we understood and can recall of the story, told in Indonesian Bahasa (language), and English was strewn with threads of how colonialism by Belanda (Dutch) and occupation by Nippon (Japanese) had touched a village even this remote. It was one of many stories he’s been told by his father and grandfather and has now collected to preserve and share.
“The story of the Komodo dragon is that they are the brothers of the people…”
Scientists say that fossils found in Australia suggest the Komodo dragon existed many years ago in Australia when parts of what is now Indonesia were closer and even connected to Australia. The Komodo dragon has since gone extinct in Australia but has remained in Indonesia for millennia and now exists solely on five islands in this region of the Indonesian archipelago. But the people of Komodo’s beliefs differ…
During the times of Dutch colonialism and then Japanese occupation, the local people had to retreat from the village at the seashore to the hills to hunt and grow food. They hid from the Japanese who had taken over their village and would “take” their women (resulting in the Japanese appearance of some of the people of Komodo today). The people of Komodo would hunt pigs and deer for days at a time for sustenance. They would sometimes come down to the water to fish at night. And during all this time spent inland, they never saw a Komodo dragon.
During this time a woman became pregnant. She gave birth to twins; a little human boy and an egg. The people did not know what was in the egg but thought the aberration must be a gift from the gods. They protected it but were concerned that in the home, it would get broken or stepped on so they moved it to a remote cave. They checked on it every day. But they were unlucky. About fifteen days later, they returned to the cave and saw the egg was cracked and nothing was inside. A small dragon was next to the egg and they presumed this was what had emerged. So they took the small dragon home to raise it. At home, the dragon was considered to be the young boy’s brother. It was quite tame and as it grew they fed it bits of meat and small lizards. Eventually, the dragon got quite big and they started to see its true nature; it was killing and eating the local livestock and upsetting the local people. So the village leaders had a meeting to decide what to do about the dragon. At the meeting, the leaders discussed concerns about letting the dragon go free. The local people had hunted much of the wild game and the dragon had eaten much of the livestock. If there was no meat to eat, they were concerned the dragon would start eyeing the humans.
So they came up with a plan for relocation. This involved blindfolding the dragon and walking with him across the island for two days before letting him go. Within a year, however, the dragon would return on occasion… he did not come inside the house but just watched his family from afar. When the local people went out hunting, they would report back whether or not they had seen the dragon. Eventually, a situation arose where one hunter had seen a dragon on the west side of the island, and at the same time, another had seen him on the east. By ten years they had concluded that there was now somehow a population of dragons on the island. The Komodo had somehow self-reproduced. So now, the dragons are everywhere. They largely stay out of the village but populate the island and the hills that stretch up behind the village. On occasion, they attack but rarely. Because of this origin, the people of the village consider the dragons to be their brothers, treat them with respect, and largely live harmoniously with them.
Jeckie had collected us from Labuan Bajo on East Nusa Tenggara island a few mornings before and brought us to his village of Komodo and so had begun our adventures with him and his brothers… and the other abundant and wild life of Komodo.
At 9 AM on Saturday we walked from our accommodation to the port with Jeckie. The public boat only goes from Labuan Bajo to Komodo 3 days/week (including Friday) and due to our ferry mix-up in Sape, we’d missed it so… he’d come to collect us (for a price). When we found out he’d come late the evening before, leaving Komodo at 11:30 PM, arriving in Labuan Bajo at 1:30 AM, and had slept on the boat, we texted to offer to bring coffee. ‘Of course!’ he replied, though ended up later chastising us for forgetting the sugar.
The trip started positively with Jeckie finding a 50,000 Rupiah bill on the sidewalk. Of course, Chris then was full of jokes about how, oddly enough, he was missing 50,000... Jeckie, elated by his find, chatted away to us and walked us to the boat where we met the captain and his son, a 15 y/o sprawled and sleeping on the mats in the center of the small wooden boat. As we boarded, the boy stirred and sleepily used a wooden stick to get us out of the port area before the Jeckie started the deafening two-stroke engine. That was the end of chat for the time being. The young boy sat on a painted blue tire at the helm of the boat, looking out at the sea (working with dad early in the morning is an internationally challenging rite of passage!) We sat on the mats and did the same. The two-hour ride to Komodo was broken up with a short hike and snorkeling where we saw black-tipped reef sharks, sea turtles diving for bites of coral and then surfacing for gulps of air, and beautiful colorful fish.
We passed over rough dark blue seas, with accompanying salty spray. And we passed over crystal clear shallow water where we could see urchins and sea stars on the white sand below us. We passed large and small islands of green and brown, like big moss-covered dinosaurs in positions of rest…
At about 1 PM we saw anchored boats floating in front of rows of colorful stilted houses at the edge of an island in the distance. We approached the small Komodo village on Komodo Island. Green and brown hills ascended behind the village.
We walked along the dock to Jeckie’s house, a simple green building that overlooked the water. We met the two other guests, Argentinians our age, and Jeckie’s wife, Yati, their toddler son, and Yati’s father. Tradition on the island means when a couple marries, they move in with the wife’s family. Yati had cooked us lunch of local fare, including fried fish, tempe, and noodles with, of course, spicy sambal. The Argentinians were leaving the next day and they’d spent the morning watching the water for dugongs (big manatee-like marine mammals) who they’d been told frequented the area in front of Jeckie’s house. The particular dugong in question purportedly liked to ‘play’ with a sea turtle who also frequented the area.
We weren’t long at the accommodation before a big lump of grey appeared as if responding to an invite, in the water right in front of Jeckie’s home. We watched for a moment as the large monochrome lump rose to the surface, and dived back down. With each surfacing, we’d barely locate him before he was diving again and so had yet to see his face. Once Jeckie became aware of what we’d spotted… he exclaimed with excitement, “Dugong?! Let's go!” After discerning this was not a joke, without time to weigh any risks… and not truly having a clear idea of what the creature looked like (I think Chris had zero idea) we were back in swimsuits. Snorkels in hand, we jumped, one by one from the dock into the water, and swam to seek this hopefully gentle water creature. Jeckie led us and every so often the dugong would surface nearby and we’d swim towards it. All we could see underwater was a pale green sea, vaguely murky with sediment, lit by the sun. Everywhere I looked I thought I was seeing a large grey lump, wait, could that be a rock below me? Or just distance made imperceptible by the water, sediment, and sun? This confusion went on until I was assured of the creature’s presence by the slick but scratchy barnacled skin of something large brushing against the bottoms of my feet. One by one, each of us emitted a squeal as it seemed, in the absence of the turtle, the lonely dugong had begun playing with us! We’d have slight and disconcerting respite, treading water and looking around and below us. We’d then see his slick cement grey nostrils surface from the water nearby before he’d dive down again, out of sight, and within moments someone would be flailing from the surprise graze of a large animal. I found myself trying to float higher, to perhaps fill my lungs with enough air that I might magically be above the water. Swimming with the dugong had turned out to be a bit more interactive than the observational experience we were all expecting. In a reverse of the typical; we were now the animal trying to evade the seeking, overly involved visitor. We decided to make our way out of the water lest exploratory grazes advance! Later on Chris’ go pro, we saw clearly for the first time this large elephant-like animal with which we’d swum.
Later that same day, we hiked in search of land animals. We four tourists, and Jeckie, took to the hills. We walked from Jeckie’s house inland through the rows of houses, about five deep, in this village of 2000 people, and past the school and mosques.
We picked up another local guide on the way. He was a slight young man of about 15, with dark observing eyes and a furrowed brow. He spoke little and carried a stick that bifurcated into two smaller branches at the end. In minutes we were beyond the village and at the trailhead. As we walked up the dusty path past shrubs and trees we immediately started to see large, scaley dragons. When the Indonesian-speaking guide indicated “Ora” to Jeckie, it meant there was a dragon in the vicinity. Pretty quickly we’d seen about four large males. They were relatively inert, but closer to the village and a bit more plentiful than we’d anticipated.
Chris and I had some knowledge about these animals. This came from reading, from an animal podcast we listen to (shout out to Tooth and Claw podcast), and from stories Jeckie had told us since meeting us.
Komodo dragons… live only on five islands in Indonesia. They are carnivorous and even sometimes eat their young. They eat local wild and domestic life including goats, pigs, and deer. They locate prey by tasting molecules in the air. Their long forked tongues can identify the direction of higher concentrations of molecules that indicate prey (particularly wounded prey) and they use this information to guide their path. In fact, the females are capable of parthenogenesis (asexual reproduction) just like the folklore shared by Jeckie seems to indicate. A female greater than seven years in isolation from a male will self-reproduce. The temperature of the ground determines the sex of the young. Since Komodo Island is so hot, males are overrepresented. Per Jeckie, females are smaller, meaner and more aggressive than the males.
There has been some debate about the bacteria/venom in the bite of the Komodo. It seems they do deliver venom to their victims but with a different delivery system than snakes. This venom results in weaker prey as it decreases blood pressure and increases blood loss. They don’t frequently attack humans but when they do, the results can be devastating. On the podcast, (and later from Jeckie who’d witnessed the tragedy) we’d heard about a young village boy who’d been attacked by a dragon (having gone into the bushes alone) and despite the efforts of local fishermen to stop the dragon, had not survived.
We’ll spare you a regurgitation of every interesting fact about these animals but if you’re interested in more…. the Tooth and Claw episode can be found on Spotify or Apple.
From Jeckie, we heard several additional stories. One of these was of Rudolf Von Reding Biberegg. A marker on the trails in Komodo commemorates this Swiss tourist who disappeared in the 1970’s and is presumed to have been eaten by the dragons. We also learned of a recent incident with another tourist who’d disregarded mandates that tourists hike with a local guide. He was bitten by a dragon and was taken to the local clinic for treatment. He later demanded to be airlifted to Singapore for treatment. The last Jeckie heard he hadn’t survived.
Most recently, Jeckie told us of an incident his cousin had had with a dragon, complete with cell phone pictures of the wounds and stitches. His cousin had gone to another island that has dragons, Rinca island, with a friend during the honey season to harvest honey. After climbing a tree, the cousin had, on his descent, surprised a Komodo waiting nearby. He was subsequently mauled on both legs and hands. He managed to stave off further attack by sticking his fingers in the dragon’s eyes. The rescue attempts were as harrowing as the attack given minimal cell service on the island. The man called until his friend found him. The friend then couldn’t leave him alone and bleeding on an island with Komodos so he carried him to the highest point on the island where there was some service, resting intermittently when the man lost consciousness. They called the village and Jeckie happened to be available with a high-powered boat. He went immediately to Rinca, managed through call and response to find the two men, and brought them on the multi-hour ride to the hospital at Labuan Bajo. We’re told that people are treated with a combination of western medicine and natural herbal medicines. The man, with many stitches, is currently recovering well at home.
Though these stories were tragic, and disconcerting, we had been reassured that the dragons are not inclined to attack humans. Humans are particularly safe if they’re in a group and maintain distance. This information, however, was coupled with the knowledge that we were staying on the island. In our booking of this accommodation, Jeckie had informed us we’d see the natural behavior of the Komodos. Further along the island where all the live-aboard tourist boats dock, Komodo are typically visited briefly in the midday sun. They are hot, sleepy, inactive, and relatively safe for groups of tourists to visit. Here in the village, we’d visit the dragons at dusk, when they are a bit more active. These particular dragons live more naturally and are less accustomed to tourists. Written on the website for booking the accommodation was a reassurance…“Don’t worry, the dragons won’t come in the house”
We continued up a hill and then down a narrow, dusty, brush and tree-lined trail. Jeckie pointed out the waste of the dragons; white with calcium as dragons consume their prey whole, bones and all.
Further down the trail, we could see colors of fabric and some hats. We were the only bule (foreigners) staying in town so I wondered if some tourist boat had stopped here for a hike before moving on. Jeckie called out ‘Hoo hoo!’ and received a response in Indonesian from below. We continued to descend and came to an opening. Before us was a group of local men, quietly crouched on the closer side of a large tree. Some had their shirts above their noses, and as we approached, and the sound of flies and the stench of death greeted us, we understood. One man looked back and signaled us for quiet. We looked, and just beyond the tree, a massive Komodo dragon had the entire head of a limp goat in his mouth and was struggling to move onto its body. The poor goat’s bottom three quarters were fat from pressure as the Komodo wrestled to ingest more.
The Komodo eventually retreated to brush, having gotten no further with the goat. The process looked like it might take a while.
We left the scene and ascended a hill that gave us an overlook of the entire village out to the ocean. We admired the vantage and could see all the workings of the village at once; men securing boats, children playing soccer on the sand that was unfortunately covered with plastic trash and sea waste when the tide was out. We hadn’t seen any additional dragons on our hike up, but as we looked to the east of the village, where we’d begun, the dragons we’d seen earlier in the evening were alert, heads raised and yellow tongues flickering in and out.
The sun was moving closer to the horizon and Jeckie asked if we’d like to return and see if the dragon had had any luck with the goat. We agreed and made our way down from the clearing and back onto the descending trail between the shrubs. The ground leveled out and as we approached the familiar large area of brush in the middle of a small clearing, there appeared to be movement everywhere. The bright colors of the men’s clothes were gone, and as we focused our gaze, the movement, thrashing, and thumping were coming from camouflaged creatures in the brush where the Komodo had been eating.
We rounded the brush and came to an opening where we could see in. Before us were a number of large adult dragons we struggled to count. Long forked tongues flicked in and out as they flung their forelimbs forward with abandon, fussily patrolling the area, seeking. One ambled through the center, its belly distended and protruding towards the ground; he’d had success with the goat Jeckie informed. Another large dragon found a bit of flesh and hide on a branch and consumed it while a third, thick drool dripping from its jaw, turned, and intentionally or otherwise, walloped him with his large tail. The pace of the movement was quite dissimilar to the lounging still creatures we’d been photographed just feet behind earlier. I began to back up before realizing I probably ought to monitor the area behind me. Hauti hauti (Careful careful) we heard from someone… Our path back to the village was just beyond this menagerie of hungry disgruntled dragons.
More and more dragons appeared and they hissed at one another. Anger emanated from them as they came to realize the dinner their tongues had assured them was no more. And then… gradually heads started to turn in our direction. So focused on what they’d smelled and on each other, we didn’t think they’d notice us… and really, they looked so prehistoric and reptilian, I didn’t know if their eyes would even register us. Perhaps they smelled us. Without delay, one dragon headed towards us at pace. He did not lunge, he did not run. With the assuredness of his dominance, he flung black-taloned and scaly armored limbs forward indicating no desire to hide his intention. The movement reminded me of the clumsiness of a waddling toddler which belied his capacity for attack.
The young ranger’s furrowed brow and steely focused nature had given way to a wide-eyed seeking expression as Jeckie took the stick from him, stepped out in front of us, and began to whack the ground in front of the dragon as he urged us to get back behind him. I moved quickly and wondered what might happen if one of us tripped and fell… and why we hadn’t chosen the island of the Orangutans!
As Jeckie walloped the ground, the dragon paused to weigh his options while another Komodo from the pacing group decided we looked interesting… and began to approach. We backed down the path towards the village, glancing behind us to ensure we didn’t trip and that no dragon had approached from that direction, to leave us in a concerning bind. The path finally opened and to our left was an embankment, to the right was a slope down to a dry river bed. We moved onto the higher ground and Jeckie stood before us. He walloped the ground in front of the dragon until eventually the dragon deferred and redirected course down the path into the riverbed. The dragon behind was still coming, he moved forward with little to no vertical displacement, and his forelimbs swung forward as if on mechanized hinges propelling his thick rigid body horizontally towards us. A bold and daring Jeckie must have seen no further danger and raced forward to put Chris’ phone on the path wedged between two rocks. He stood behind it and used his stick to direct the dragon down the same path the first had taken. The dragon again deferred but not before stepping over Chris’ phone and getting this incredible footage!
No further dragons had, full of adrenaline and cortisol, boldly considered tackling a group of six for dinner and it seemed we were in the clear to turn and head back to the village. As we exited the trail system we saw a small group of French tourists and another very young-looking guide heading into the den of chaos from the west. They looked fairly hesitant to continue further as they saw us emerging with two large dragons in our pursuit. We never heard word of them again… I jest! I don’t think they went any further. We’d only continued because, at dusk, we HAD to get out. And we were quite happy to be back in civilization and heading back to Jeckie’s for dinner and stories!
More Komodo Village Days
The following days were a mix of sea and land adventures and observing life in the village. The call to prayer in this entirely Muslim village sounded at dawn but it wasn’t difficult to want to get up early and watch the sunrise over the island hills.
Each morning, underneath us, the tide had come in and lapped against the stilts of the house. Men squatted on cubes of mesh-covered styrofoam, carried containers of petrol, and rowed out to their boats. The sounds of sea birds, roosters, and the odd goat were then interrupted by the same men attempting to crank start the sleepy engines of their boats.
Later local children would walk the dock to school, the girls dressed in long scarlet skirts and white shirts, some with white hijabs. The boys wore red pants and white shirts. All wore black backpacks almost as big as them. They called up to us “Good morning!”
Then young men attired in army green shirts that stated ‘Naturalist Guide’ walked the same direction down the dock to boats. They were on their way further along the eastern perimeter of the island to the main area of the national park. They would spend the day with large groups of tourists on day trips from Labuan Bajo or coming from live-aboard boats. They’d walk tour groups along trails to see Komodo dragons, local birds, and perhaps wild buffalo.
In the afternoon, the same school kids, now slightly disheveled, returned along the dock, the boys with shoes already doffed. They called up “Hello!” to us and then “What is your name??” and “Where are you from??” Guides walked back along the dock, boats returned and young boys jumped into the water to help secure them. We saw all the comings and goings of the main walkway of the village.
In the afternoon while the tide was still in, the dugong played with the turtle. Looking out to sea, we’d see the turtle swimming peacefully. He would come up for mouths of air and dive down again on his own schedule. Inevitably, the dugong would eventually arrive. We recognized him by a little divot on the right side of his tail fin. Once he’d arrived, it wasn’t long before he was chasing the turtle. Both would disappear below water then the turtle would surface, flipped on his back, flapping his little fins in backstroke escape attempts as the dugong pushed him along with his large gray nose. They’d return underwater. At other times the nose of the dugong would surface and then we’d see with his truncated little fins he had the flailing turtle grasped to his chest in a very nonconsensual hug. We’re not sure if it was playing exactly... but both always returned to Jeckie’s front ‘lawn’ and at times they simply swam sweetly alongside each other, diving down, then surfacing simultaneously.
In the evening over dinner, we talked with Jeckie and he graciously fielded our questions about the dragons, life on the island, Indonesian history, folklore, and language. Jeckie also volunteered a personal perspective on life on such a remote and unique island. He spoke of the shared history of the inhabitants and his goal of collecting oral history and folklore from the village elders to preserve and share.
At our request, he explained local government and law enforcement. The island has elected leaders who handle decision making and manage crime and disorder. Punishments might include painting the dock or helping build a local Mosque. If a situation exceeds their capacity a person must be sent to Labuan Bajo for trial. Chris laughed to think how democracy can have a slightly altered meaning in a small community comprised of families. Jeckie also discussed distance from healthcare (there is a small hospital on the island), and how that affects things like childbirth (births occur with the assistance of a midwife but when complications arise, the woman must go to the hospital on Labuan Bajo which is several hours away). He told us how hard things had been during COVID where there had been a severe scarcity of work and food and where breaking the fast during Ramadan had barely sustained him. We also broached our presence… and discussed the complexity of a village that is largely dependent on tourism..but is inevitably changed by it.
An interesting perspective below discusses the many stakeholders and financial interests that impact Komodo Island, and prioritize the value of the region as a tourism site over the interests of the locals…
https://projectmultatuli.org/en/native-people-of-komodo-fight-back-against-tourism-expansion/
It was during one of these dinners that I asked Jeckie if he’d been nervous that afternoon we’d encountered the dragons who’d taken an interest in us. Expecting machismo and a young male sense of immortality I was surprised when he looked at me wide-eyed and said “OF COURSE”. This humility then devolved into a hero story with legs. This included a merciless and theatrical mockery of the poor young guide who’d been overwhelmed by the situation and how Jeckie had had to take over and wield the stick to protect us. Perhaps more folklore in the making!
It was also during one of these evenings that Chris and I celebrated our first wedding anniversary! There wasn’t much fanfare. We were sweaty from the heat, itchy from mosquito bites, and sticky from tiger balm. We didn’t get gussied up for a fancy night out but were happy with the night of chats with Jeckie, and with what the first year had looked like. Somehow I think the years will simultaneously get easier and harder from here.
Another call to prayer sounded at dusk. The tide had gone out. In the dark night men and women walked in the shallow water with flashlights and buckets collecting crabs and sea creatures for food. We looked up at the stars and admired the southern hemisphere constellations... so far we can identify the southern cross.
Once or twice in the evenings, we’d heard urgent calls of “ORA ORA!” Jeckie calmly clarified that yes, that did mean there was a Komodo dragon somewhere in the village, but when the calls stopped, that meant the villagers had redirected it back out.
And in the middle of the night, we’d sit up for several minutes to blink and clear our vision before seeking the bathroom. This involved exiting our room and descending an outdoor ladder to the dock in the pitch-black night. We’d use an iPhone light and strain our eyes to discern any tail or claw or snout of Ora as we passed shadowy benches and headed into the main house to use the toilet.
And with sunrise and the next call to prayer, another village day began.
The Sea
We spent much of the second day at sea… A few highlighted pictures and videos are below.
Our first stop was at Padar Island.
At sea we saw my (Chris’) favorite sea creatures. Manta rays!
And to our chagrin, and Jeckie’s absolute delight, Jeckie found a giant clam (complete with eggs) for the night’s dinner… (let the record show that Chris ate more of it than Marlene).
Sea turtles are a very common site in Indonesia.
The Island
On our third day, Jeckie’s brother-in-law, Yudi, walked us along the perimeter of the island to the main tourist area. He explained that the guides number about 60 and all come from Komodo village. When asked about guide training, he said there isn’t much of a training as they’ve learned what they need to know growing up on the island. The most helpful addition is learning English. He showed us local birds, Komodo, nests, and local flora.
Below are different nests of the Komodo females. They sometimes use the mound nests that have been built by the orange-footed scrub fowl that can be seen in the 3rd/final photo
We aught the local taxi back along the island perimeter to Komodo Village
Onward Travel
On the final day, after our taking in the final retelling of the origin story of the Komodo dragons, we said goodbye to our wonderful hosts and waited with Jeckie’s father-in-law for the local boat. His father-in-law carried a clear folder of files, and was headed to Labuan Bajo to petition for money to restore aging elements of the main dock.
Fellow passengers played games, smiling and winking at us when they had a win or succeeded with some particularly scandalizing play or trouncing. This game typically involves clothespins on the beard, ears, or face of a person for each loss. There were no clothespins and after an unsuccessful attempt at hanging empty cans from their ears with bits of fishing line, they resigned to (much less amusing) tallying points with torn-up bits of cigarette boxes.
The second photo is a mid-sea transfer. An elderly man in a small boat caught up with our slightly larger boat and then a young woman and child gathered their belongings and hopped from one boat to the next!
Early afternoon we arrived back at Labuan Bajo port. After leaving the dock, we began to walk to our accommodation. A man across the street jogged along parallel to us and called out “taxi?” No, no Chris said and called back “Jalan Jalan” (walking walking) while moving his two fingers like legs in the air. Like we’d administered some kind of culturally accepted kryptonite, all he could do was smile and laugh and seek the next tourists who might want a ride.
Thankfully, we did not have to repeat the long journey to return to Bali. As interesting as it was, once was enough. We went to Labujan Bajo’s small airport, flew to Java, and from there made our way to our next destination, one of two brief stops on the way to Central Asia; Singapore.
Language:
Palau: Island
Ora: Komodo Dragon
Bahasa: Language/dialect
Aba Kabar: How are you?
Sedicki Sedicki: Slowly Slowly
Ma-af: Sorry
Permisi: Excuse me
Jalan Jalan: Walking Walking
Hati Hati: Careful Careful
Bule: Foreigner
Terima Kasih: Thank you
Selamat Pagi: Good morning (used until ~11 or 12)
Selamat Siang: Good Day (used from 12 PM until about 4 PM)
Selamat Soray: Good Afternoon (used from 4 PM until Sunset)
Selamat Melam: Good Evening (used after sunset )
Selamat Tingal: Goodbye (if leaving)
Selamat Jalan: Goodbye (if staying)
Currency:
Indonesian Rupiah/IDR/Rp
$1= 16,304.15 Rp
