The Final Bucket List

Somehow, the handful of months between March and July have passed as if they were days, and here I find myself back in the United States, a bona fide “Returned Peace Corps Volunteer.”

But before I sum up my final Peace Corps Indonesia thoughts and experiences (or perhaps in an effort to avoid undertaking that impossible task), I want to share some of the highlights of my final months – the last checks-off my bucket list, if you will.

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Summiting Java’s Highest Volcano

First, let me take you back to Christmas Day 2015. With gravel in my shoes and the sun rising over Indonesia’s tallest volcanic peak, I summited Mount Semeru. The wind was frigid, the views were breathtaking, and the victory was sweet. Holidays away from family and friends can be tough, but spending the day off the grid and sharing in the simple joy of my fellow hikers as we finally reached the peak was something special.

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Getting Lost in the Rhythm of Balinese Kecak Dance

Kecak dance combines dance, body-percussion, and drama. A ring of men sits around the “stage” area while clapping, clicking, chanting, and occasionally singing while the characters of the drama dance in and out of the circles. Oil lamps burn in the center and bathe the faces of dancers, singers, and percussionists in an enchanting, flickering light that seems to join in the rhythm of the dance. Kecak dance is a staple of Balinese culture, and transforms the tourist haunts of Bali into sacred spaces steeped in harmony, movement, and story.

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Baking an Apple Pie

PCV Danielle and Ibu Linda hard at work.

The more astute among my readers may have just taken a moment to blurt out, “Apple pie isn’t Indonesian!” But before you click away and never return, let me explain. Goal Two of Peace Corps reads, “To help promote a better understanding of Americans on the part of the people served.” Central to my personal identity as an American is my love of baking and eating pies. In a desert of ovens, however, sharing that part of America wasn’t so easy. But fortune smiled upon me when I started attending a church in Ngawi city that had, what else, AN OVEN! It was a treat – to the soul and palate – to bake and share a pie with my Indonesian church family.

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Learning to Make Batik Fabric

Indonesians, especially on Java, take pride in their beautiful and varied batiks. The colorful textiles form an integral part of national dress – I’ve seen farmers in the fields wearing old batik and pictures of President Jokowi shaking hands with foreign dignitaries while clad in the creatively drawn and richly died fabric. My experience in Indonesia wouldn’t have been complete had I not learned and attempted the batik-making process myself. The visit of a good college friend presented the prefect opportunity, and we spent an afternoon trying our hand at drawing with hot wax and mixing and dabbing various dyes onto our own, personal squares of cotton. It was equal parts of heat, color, frustration, and education – a fitting metaphor for my time spent in Indonesia.

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Becoming a Javanese Diva

Me with some of my graduating students.

Batik is all fine and good, but when Indonesian women really want to dress to impress, they pull out their eye-shadow, hair spray, and kebayas. Originating from the Javanese Majapahit Kingdom, kebayas range in design and extravagance based on location. On their home island of Java, the glitzier the better. In anticipation of 9^th grade graduation, the women at my school decided to go all out and wear kebayas (the men looked rather dapper themselves in suits and ties). That meant going on a special search for a kebaya that would fit a non-South East Asian giant like me. The one we found was golden – figuratively and literally. I’ll always fondly remember the shocked faces of my students when they saw me walk out of the teacher’s office. Trading in my pony-tail and canvas shoes for rhinestone studded hair clips and fake eye-lashes, it was pretty fun to be a diva for a day.

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Diving and Taking Relaxation to the Next Level in Raja Ampat

Our porch-front beach.

The big finale! Having successfully completed two years of Peace Corps service in Indonesia, I headed straight for island and underwater paradise in West Papua. Raja Ampat is famous among divers for having some of the best reefs and marine life in the world, not to mention breath-taking beaches and crystal clear water. From the hammock stretching across the porch of my peacefully simple bungalow, I read, napped, and allowed my thoughts to wander among 27 months’ worth of Indonesian memories. The reverie of gentle waves smoothing the sand and the sun drifting between exquisite sunrises and –sets was only broken by delicious meals, good conversation, and world-class dives. It would be pretty easy to lose all sense of time and urgency out there in the islands of Raja Ampat, and I wouldn’t be surprised if I wake up to the sparkling waters and swaying breezes of West Papua again someday.

Peace out, Indonesia! (Photo Cred: E. Braaksma)

If nothing else, my final months in Indonesia were a reminder of how much I’ve yet to discover in Indonesia – a land impossibly rich in culture, language, art, flavor, and nature.

 

Journey to Flores: Sand and Surf

In a matter of minutes, you can descend from the awe-inspiring mountains to the picturesque beaches of Flores. Last week I wrote about the “Turf” of Flores, and this week I present you with my favorites from the “Surf.”

Wildlife!

Although hard to see from the surface, a whole world of fish, large and small, call the corals of Flores home.

Slather on some sunscreen and grab yourself a snorkel, because the waters around Flores and Komodo National Park are home to blooming corals and sea creatures large and small. My friends and I took an overnight boat trip out of Labuan Bajo (a sleepy, tourist, harbor town).

The crew. Pak Amin (left) built this boat by hand and hopes to one day pass on the family business to his son (middle). The food was amazing, the sights unforgettable, and the company beyond compare.

Our overnight boat.

We were treated with giant jellyfish, mammoth manta rays, huge bats (“flying foxes”), pods of dolphins (I literally almost cried), stray sharks, and enough fish to make me think I had fallen into an old Window’s screen saver.

Swam with one of these…

…and watched these not-so-little guys take flight from their mangroves.

Bats straight chillin.

Of course, I can’t leave out the infamous, scaly namesake of Komodo National Park, the komodo dragon itself.

Mean muggin.

Ok, so these don’t exactly live in the water, and are known in the local language as “land crocodiles,” but the islands which they inhabit are only accessible by boat. Cautioned against going to Komodo Island by recent visitors who left without seeing a single dragon, we went to Komodo’s lesser known cousin, Rinca. Right off the boat, we crossed paths with an adolescent komodo, and later cautiously crept around a small handful of others.

Adolescent Komodo: around 4 years old. Komodos reach adulthood at the age of 5 but can live into their 70’s.

With their forked tongues, powerful claws, feet that can turn 360 degrees, and saliva with enough bacteria to kill prey via infection within days, they may not have been the most cuddly of creatures, but they are nothing short of a natural wonder. Taking an hour-and-a-half trek through the forest and grasslands of Rinca was the icing on the cake.

Our guide leading us through the komodo dragon habitat.

While swimming with sharks and mantas, joining flying foxes in their sunset revels, communing with the corals, and watching dolphins glide along the side of our boat, I kept thinking that all my childhood Animal Planet dreams were finally coming true – Komodo National Park and the surrounding waters are an animal enthusiast’s paradise!

(This video is from Australia, but these bats’ Indonesian relatives are just as large, just as loud, and just as amazing.)

Beaches

When you fly into and out of Labuan Bajo, you glide over island after island with perfect beach after perfect beach for miles and miles. Never in my life have I seen so many beautiful beaches on so many little islands – it’s like a James Bond movie waiting to happen. I never understood the appeal of having a yacht until now… But for those of us on a much, much smaller budget, you can easily rent out a basic boat for the day (for three people we paid around $38 dollars). The captain will chauffeur you to the uninhabited island of your choice where you can lounge on the sand and laze in the waters all day.

Plenty of boats for hire – large and small, bare-bones and luxury class.

Flores is an up and coming tourist destination, but still has a sleepy, laid back vibe – which is probably why no one batted an eye on Seraya Island when we pulled up to a dock and waltzed into a high end resort. After having my shoulders covered for the past year, lying out in the sun with the hush of the crystal-blue tide coming in and out was absolute bliss.

Erin sips on pineapple juice and seamlessly eases into the life of the fabulously wealthy – if only for an afternoon.

I often complained in Flores that the pictures I was taking just didn’t show the “depth” of what we were actually seeing. Nor can a couple of blog posts capture the beauty, diversity, and unexpectedness of the island.

Mountains with the ocean in the distance.

There just isn’t enough space to write about discussing politics with Oscar (political rebel and hotel manager), eating instant noodles in mountain fog, swimming in sulfurous hot springs (and fleeing from a dead rat), collecting blue rocks on a black sand beach, eating an amazing pineapple-bacon-burger after a long day in the sun, indulging in molten chocolate lava cake at a resort I could never afford, watching people walk to church on Sunday morning with their Bibles in hand, eavesdropping on conversations between dive masters, and bonding with fellow adventurers from around the world.

Sunset from the boat.

Flores was a mix of natural wonder, deep-seated culture, and budding tourism. There is so much more to Indonesia than Java and Bali – my trip to Flores added another layer to the depth of my understanding of Indonesia, and I hope these posts added a little more to yours as well. Happy Travels!

Journey to Flores: New Turf

Indonesia is made up of thousands of islands. On those islands, more than 700 languages are being spoken among some 300 distinct, native ethnic groups.

It’s hard to keep that in mind while strolling the land-locked rice paddies in my Javanese village

It wasn’t hard to imagine while soaring at cruising altitude over island after island – large and uninhabitably small – between Java and Flores.

The island of Flores is located in eastern Indonesia and is a budding tourist destination. It has everything the “off-the-beaten-track” traveler is looking for: breath-taking mountains, deserted beaches, traditional villages, and amazing wildlife. Ever been asked if you prefer mountains or the beach? Well, in Flores you don’t have to choose – it’s all right there.

A beauty-seeker’s paradise.

Flores also offers a different take on Indonesia. Coming from Java, I immediately noticed two things: crucifixes
and empty roads. The people of Flores are predominantly Catholic, and there are a lot fewer of them. During our school vacation I was looking for something different and something adventurous, and I found that and more in Flores.

In fact, Flores was an absolute dream. I loved being there and my thoughts have strayed to going back ever since I left. I could never put everything into one blog post (or into 20), but I’ve boiled the highlights down into two parts “Turf” and “Surf.”

Let’s start on land…

Kelimutu National Park

Mount Kelimutu, located near the sleepy town of Moni, is famous for its tri-colored lakes. Formed in three volcanic craters, the lakes are remarkable for the fact that, despite sharing the same volcanic peak, they seem to change color independently of one another. The change is thought to be the effect of chemical reactions due to the interaction of volcanic gasses and minerals contained in the waters.

My favorite lake was the one that looked like someone dumped a giant can of blue paint in it. Apparently it got the memo that pastels are in this season.

Local legends assign a more mystical role to the lakes. The three are named Tiwu Ata Bupu (Lake of Old People), Tiwu Ko’o Fai Nuwa Muri (Lake of Young Men and Maidens) and Tiwu Ata Polo (Betwitched or Enchanted Lake), and are believed to be repositories of the souls of the dead.

Two of the lakes are separated by a narrow wall of rock.

The third lake sits deep within it’s crater.

Whether chemical or spiritual, watching the sun rise over the lakes while sipping a ginger coffee was nothing short of entrancing.

Sun hitting the rocky wall of one of the lakes.

Traditional Villages

Bena Village

Flores is dotted with traditional villages inhabited by members of the island’s many native ethnic groups. While much of Indonesia is modernizing and globalizing at an increasingly rapid pace, these villages have been preserved in an effort to honor the history and culture native to the peoples of Flores. It’s a rare treat to see these homes and step back in time.

Each region has its own style, reflected in the construction of their houses as well as the motifs found on their traditionally woven textiles.

We visited the village of Bena, near Bajawa in the district of Ngada. While a group of men worked on the construction of a new home, many of the women sat weaving, chewing betel nut, and selling textiles from their porches.

To be honest, it is a bit of a strange feeling walking into people’s lives uninvited. As we started to speak with some of the women, however, they were eager to tell us about their lives and craft. One girl proudly explained that she started weaving in elementary school. An older women showed us how to properly peel and prepare a betel nut. Speaking the language went a long way, and I definitely recommend going with a guide if you don’t speak Indonesian yourself – the depth of experience is all the more enjoyable!

The small structures are symbolic of male (the umbrella) and female (the mini-house). Large stones are used for animal and food sacrifices, while the assembly of stones is like a central, official meeting point. All are involved in honoring and thanking the ancestors.

Textiles for sale, hung beneath the remains of sacrificed animals.

To learn more about Bena and its ancestral shrines, check out this website.

Come back next week to catch some surf with komodo dragons!

Ngebel: The Lake, The Legend

Schools out for the year, and students aren’t the only ones celebrating. With our newfound freedom, the teachers from my school took a lovely day trip to Lake Ngebel in Ponorogo.

Lake Ngebel

Ngebel is a sleepy little lake-side town that caters to Indonesians looking for a get-away in nature. Fresh air, street food, and beautiful views, however, are just the rippling surface of this legendary lake.

Teachers relaxing by the lake.

The story of Lake Ngebel goes back to the time of kingdoms, dragons, and beings with god-like powers keeping mankind from turning into careless gluttons.

Now a place of relaxation and entertainment, this lake has a darker, legendary past.

The Legend of Lake Ngebel

A long, long time ago, a child was born. This child was the son of a great king, but he was born in the body of a dragon. Rejected by his royal family, he lived in a cave. For many long days and nights, he asked the gods to turn him back into his true human form and dreamed of life as a boy.

One day, a nearby village was having a festival to honor their gods. A group of hunters went into the forest to find food for the feast. Suddenly, a big storm came upon them and they sought shelter from the rain in the cave where the dragon was sleeping. Relieved to be dry and out of the weather, one of the hunters drove his spear into the ground for safe-keeping. But just as he was driving it down, blood started to flow from the point. A great and terrible cry filled the cave – the cry of a dragon! The men acted quickly and killed the dragon. After overcoming the shock of bunking down in a cave with a dragon, they divided up the dragon meat and triumphantly returned to the village with plenty of food for their feast.

Today you can feast on bakso meatballs, fried tempeh, coffee, tea, and ginger milk!

When the festival began, all the villagers ate, drank, and celebrated in the village center. Quietly, a small boy, clothed in ragged, dirty clothes, walked into the village center and stood among the rabble-rousers. He went from person to person asking for just a scrap of food or a drop of drink. All the villagers, too pleased with their own partying and good fortune, turned their noses up at the boy. They told him to leave them alone and stop bringing down the party.

The boy then wandered among some of the homes. Again, doors slammed in his face and villagers told him to get lost. One woman, however, didn’t.

An old grandmother saw the boy in his ragged clothes and told him to go into her home and eat the food she had set out. She told him to take seconds, and then thirds, until the boy was quite full. He thanked the grandmother and told her to be ready. “Ready with what?” she asked. “Ready with your rice-pounding mortar and your rice ladle,” he replied before marching back to the village center.

Visitors relax and enjoy the lakeside, a far different experience than the raucous party that caused the village’s demise…

All the villagers groaned when they saw that he had come back to the party. He called out to them, “I have a challenge for you, a very difficult challenge!” They were angry that he was interrupting their party again, but watched to see what he would do. The boy took a stick and drove it into the ground. “Who,” he asked, “can take this stick from the ground?”

The villagers rolled their eyes. One of them stepped forward to pull the stick from the ground, but it didn’t budge! He pulled and pulled, and nothing happened. More and more villagers tried, but even the strongest among them couldn’t move the stick an inch. They formed a great chain and tried to pull with all their strength, but still nothing happened.

Finally the villagers, angrier than ever, yelled at the boy to try it himself. The boy walked up to the stick and easily pulled it from the ground. The people were amazed, but didn’t have much time to stare in wonder. Water had started to gush from the hole where the stick had been lodged. It gushed and gushed and gushed until the center of the village was one great puddle.

As water continued to flow from the hole, the boy ran back to the old, kind grandmother’s house. “Are you ready?” he panted. “Here are my mortar and my ladle,” she said. The boy told the grandmother to climb into the mortar with him and hold onto the ladle. The water rose as they both sat in the mortar, and it began to float like a canoe. “Now paddle!” the boy cried. Using her ladle, the old woman paddled away from the village. The village center, the houses, the delicious foods and delectable drinks, and all the other villagers quickly disappeared beneath the rising waters.

The waters rose and rose…

The old grandmother turned to the boy as they paddled away. “Who are you?” she asked. “I am the son of a powerful king,” said the boy. “I was born in the body of a dragon, but when the hunters from this village met me in my cave they killed me for this festival. But just as I died, I woke in the form of a boy! The gods told me to come to this village and offer the people a test. I begged for food, but no one, except for you, would help me. The hunters didn’t even offer me a taste of the meat that they had taken from me! So now, in judgement, the village will be flooded and become a lake forever.”

And that is how Lake Ngebel came to be. Now a sleeply resort town, Ngebel is a reminder that the guest, no matter who they are, is always king.

This is my personal retelling of the story of Lake Ngebel. If you have different versions, ideas, interpretations, or thoughts please comment below!