Flores is a whole different world, at least where I am. It feels like desert after the green, green of Bali. This island is very mountainous, lots of volcanos they say, and everything is covered in golden grass with trees dotting their way up the mountainsides and around the shorelines. Imagine Nevada with beachfront property and palm trees.
Labuhan Bajo, the major town in western Flores, is all about diving and boat tours. They're offered in every other storefront. These are not what we see in the states with glass fronts and orderly appearances but more like a hodge-podge of structures of varying sizes and configurations. Urban planning is not big here and I'm glad.
At one point, a new acquaintance and I were looking for the docks, took a shortcut and found ourselves walking between tiny little tin shacks, a woman washing laundry in buckets, a man lighting a little outside cooking fire, chickens and a stray dog or two. That is the moment I lost my taste for bargaining with the vendors. People seemed so poor, at least by our standards, and yet they seem pretty happy.
Eric rented a motorbike and headed for a beach somewhere while I walked around town gawking, taking photos and greeting everyone I passed. In the late afternoon we met and went for a spin outside of town. Along the road were little clusters of houses built on stilts, many with bamboo woven siding, fairly comfortable living it seemed to me. There were fields with cattle, cattle grazing beside the road, here and there a goat, chickens galore, children playing...it was all very picturesque. At one point I snapped a fly-by photo of a group of small boys who ran out and flagged us down. We stopped because they wanted a photo taken with all their little cool-guy poses. Then others came to get in on the action. After a series of high fives we were on our way again. One more stop was at a new resort with beautiful grounds and a short walk on the beach, then back to LBJ, my last night there.
Labuhan Bajo, the major town in western Flores, is all about diving and boat tours. They're offered in every other storefront. These are not what we see in the states with glass fronts and orderly appearances but more like a hodge-podge of structures of varying sizes and configurations. Urban planning is not big here and I'm glad.
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| Sunset view from my cottage. |
At one point, a new acquaintance and I were looking for the docks, took a shortcut and found ourselves walking between tiny little tin shacks, a woman washing laundry in buckets, a man lighting a little outside cooking fire, chickens and a stray dog or two. That is the moment I lost my taste for bargaining with the vendors. People seemed so poor, at least by our standards, and yet they seem pretty happy.
Eric rented a motorbike and headed for a beach somewhere while I walked around town gawking, taking photos and greeting everyone I passed. In the late afternoon we met and went for a spin outside of town. Along the road were little clusters of houses built on stilts, many with bamboo woven siding, fairly comfortable living it seemed to me. There were fields with cattle, cattle grazing beside the road, here and there a goat, chickens galore, children playing...it was all very picturesque. At one point I snapped a fly-by photo of a group of small boys who ran out and flagged us down. We stopped because they wanted a photo taken with all their little cool-guy poses. Then others came to get in on the action. After a series of high fives we were on our way again. One more stop was at a new resort with beautiful grounds and a short walk on the beach, then back to LBJ, my last night there.
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| Leaving Flores. |
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