Dolphin heads on the beach

When do indigenous hunting rights become a danger to the environment? Do we want whale hunting to become a tourist attraction? Should we eat in a restaurant that primarily serves dolphin meat? So many questions.

As we, along with our friends Elma and Marnix, approached the remote island of Lembata, Thomas and I were highly undecided about whether we wanted to visit Lamalera, the controversial whale hunting village on the south coast of the island.

Visitors to our site know we are very interested in the indigenous peoples of the world. But we are also dedicated wildlife lovers as well as avid divers. Lembata is really the first place where these interests have collided in such a dramatic way.

As we sat in Lemabata’s tiny capital Lewoleba, I was still torn between whether to visit the village or move on and make an ethical statement by skipping it. At moments, bypassing the village seemed silly. At other moments, it felt necessary. I simply couldn’t decide.

Whale meat dries in Lamalera

When we suddenly discovered that, due to the ferry schedule, visiting Lamalera would mean being trapped on Lemabata for eight days, I seemed to have a complete decision-making meltdown. I reflected on video footage of Lamalera hunters beating a dolphin to death (see below) and on an article I had read showing the tribe slicing up a whale shark. Sources suggest Lamalera hunters kill around 25 whales per year as well as hundreds of dolphins, whale sharks, mantas and other pelagics. Some even suggest aggressive hunting by the whale hunters might be having an impact on the population of whale sharks off of Australia’s stunning Ningaloo Reef.

From firsthand experience, we both understood that small-scale indigenous hunting can have a significant impact on the environment. Although Lembata is remote, interest in the whale hunters has caused the Indonesian government to start promoting the Lamalera hunters as a sort of cultural “tourist attraction”. I had read numerous articles on the subject, and in the end, I strongly felt visiting the village was both important and stupid. Hmmm.

Butchering dolphins on the beach

So there we stood with Elma and Marnix waiting to board the truck to make the rugged journey across the island to isolated Lamalera and I suddenly asked myself, do I want to spend a week in a place where everyone is chopping up the animals I love most. For me, the answer was no. Thomas agreed. Suddenly, we stepped back and waved goodbye to our friends, whom we had been traveling with for the last three weeks. Such a strangely abrupt goodbye. In one spontaneous decision, all plans had changed.

Later that day, we met Catherine, a French traveler who had just returned from Lamalera and was boarding our overnight ferry to Alor. (Catherine provided the pictures for this post.) She told a story of slaughtered whales, drying meat, partying villagers, decapitated dolphins, the overwhelming stench of whale flesh, and surviving on a diet of rice and dolphin. It sounded fascinating and horrible at the same time. Somehow, I both envied her and felt a serious sense of relief at not having visited. Perhaps, that dual reaction best encapsulates the complex story of Lamalera. Even after having visited, Catherine seemed to speak in that same dual reaction of fascination and disgust. Perhaps, there is no clear answer to the debate over traditional hunting in Lamalera.

A piece of dolphin meat on the beach

While traditional hunting practices might me debatable, I would suggest that Lamalera whale hunting should not become a tourist attraction and visitors should not encourage hunting by paying for outings. I would also hope that guidebooks would be rewritten to actively discourage whale-hunting tourism. Even while researching a visit to Lamalera, I discovered several blog posts from travelers who had payed to join whale hunting trips and then afterwards urged others not to do the same. I also discovered some thought-provoking videos which I am including below:

Intro to the Whale Hunters

Footage of Dolphin Hunt

So in the end, this is one place we did not visit and one experience we chose not to have. We would love to hear your thoughts on the complex topic of indigenous hunting practices and tourism in the comment section below as well as any personal descriptions of a visit to Lamalera.

We just received this very detailed letter from one of our readers named Johnny, who took the time to update us on the condition of the coral in El Nido on the island of Palawan in the Philippines.

If you were following our blog while we were traveling through Palawan, you might remember that our post 100 Ways to Kill Coral generated some controversy among the locals and we received several informative comments from Lee Goldman at S.E.Asia Kayak Tours.

According to Johnny, not much has improved since then and he even seems to suggest that the situation has worsened. If anyone has any additional opinions (including El Nido locals), we would love to hear them in this post’s comment section.

Here is a copy of Johnny’s letter:

Hello Tony,

Thank you for the report.

I have been to El Nido twice… in November 2010 and more recently, last week. On my first visit, I did island hopping tour A (Miniloc Island and surroundings) and found that most of the coral was dead, and consisted mainly of rubble. The snorkelling sites were shallow and I assumed the rubble was due to the daily stamping of careless tourists.

Last week, I did tour C (Matinloc and Tapuitan Islands). The tour operator collected both the tour fee and Eco Tourism Development Fee (P200) from each person the day before. The operator did not give a briefing on safety or the “Do’s and Don’ts” when visiting coral reefs. This is a common failing with tour operators in SE Asia.

Tour C covers up to 6 snorkelling sites, either in open water or from a beach. At no point during the tour were we asked to show our receipt for the eco fee. At one beach where many visitors were having lunch, I saw a municipal employee collecting litter and putting it on a boat for transportation to El Nido (presumably). And at the same beach, I saw a young boy collecting starfish to show to his family.

No mooring buoys were available at any of the sites. I did see some rotting mooring lines underwater at one of the sites.

At each site, the boatmen used two anchors, one for the bow and another for the stern. When mooring at a beach, the bow anchor would be lodged into the beach and the stern anchor thrown into the water. At the open water sites, both anchors were simply chucked overboard. Maneuvering the boat into place was done by bamboo pole.

At each site, the boat captain would indicate the areas with “good” coral. The captain did not advise poor swimmers to use a life jacket when snorkelling.

I found the coral to be mostly dead at all the sites, consisting of lots of rubble and some intact algae-covered skeletons. Live coral (generally of the same species) could be seen in small isolated patches amongst the sand and rubble. I did not see any crown of thorns last week (or in November 2010).

When I remarked to the captain that most of the coral was dead and asked if the fishermen were using dynamite, he simply shrugged and said nothing. I think the tour operators and their boatmen are reluctant to get into the water to see the current state of the coral for themselves.

After the tour, I discussed the reasons for the dead coral with the tour operator. She confirmed my suspicion about dynamite fishing and said that crown of thorns were also a problem. She agreed that the snorkeling sites needed mooring buoys.

El Nido has grown a lot since my first visit. There is a new marine port and several new hotels plus a few more being built. The town is much busier with pedi-cabs, motorbikes, tour vans, private cars and pedestrians all competing for space on the narrow streets.

The number of visitors has increased significantly, especially so for Chinese New Year last week. All the hotels were fully booked and some El Nido residents took to renting out rooms in their homes to tourists. I also heard that some tourists had to camp out in a basketball court.

In my opinion, tourism in El Nido will continue to grow regardless of whether the coral survives or not. El Nido is attracting the type of mass tourism that is more common to Boracay and many businesses are getting very rich.

Most tourists will leave with happy memories having seen the famous El Nido scenery and a few colourful fish in the crystal clear waters. The average tourist cannot tell the difference between live and dead coral, and some even believe that coral is nothing more than rock.

The eco fee of P200 is not pittance in the Philippines; it is equivalent to a day’s salary for many Filipinos. For P200, you can buy a hearty meal with drinks for two people at a local eatery.

The El Nido authorities collect this eco fee from almost every visitor. It amounts to a lot of capital and more transparency in how they are spending our money would be appreciated.

I think that conservation alone is no longer enough to save the corals at the El Nido tour sites, there is not enough live coral left for it to recover (unless man was to suddenly disappear for a very long time).

Hands-on coral restoration (e.g., Biorock), a proper sewage system and education (for tourists and locals alike) to promote respect and care for this valuable resource are needed. And I would like to see the eco money going to this end.

Third-world visas are the bane of our existence. Here in Indonesia, many regional immigration offices have a reputation for bureaucracy, corruption, incompetence, and downright meanness. The office here in Maumere is among the worst. For weeks, I’ve been dreading the thought of trying to extend our visa here, but to continue on to the end of Nusa Tenggara, an extension was essential.

Their requirements for an extension felt like the ultimate banana republic scavenger hunt. Using a template given to us by the immigration office, we had to type up two letters in Indonesian adapting them to our own personal situation. (Thank god for Google translation.) We had to find a local to “sponsor” us, get that local to sign our extension request letters as well as convince them to allow us to make multiple copies of their personal ID card to hand out to every bureaucrat under the Indonesian sun. Finally, we scrambled to find and purchase an Indonesian “authentication stamp” to stick next to our signatures, which in some way is meant to “prove” that our request letters were “official.” Geez. (I’d like to formally thank Jonny who runs that roadside Internet cafe / xerox copy / printout / web design / buy-what-you-need hut for his assistance in getting us that “authentication stamp.”)

After jumping through a hundred hoops, we submitted our grab bag of useless crap to the immigration office. The comatose bureaucratress, annoyed that we were disrupting her daily soap operas, smirk-screeched that our visa might be available in as little as four to five days, advising us to check back each day just to be sure. As we were staying over an hour by car from the office, we pleaded to see if the useless staff of 20 – who appeared to be doing absolutely nothing but watching TV, drinking coffee, dozing and removing lint from their navels – might be able to finish the process within the day.

Worried that our insistence was going to cost her TV-time, she reluctantly said she would try, adding, “It might be hard because many people will have to sign it.” She told us to walk around town and come back at the end of the day.

Yeah, right.

We politely stated that we did not know Maumere and had nowhere to go, so we would sit quietly and wait for the process to be completed. The queen of visa extensions was not amused. We then proceeded to stare at her with the most insidiously stupid expressions on our faces as she “did her work.” We stared at her through the soap operas, the karaoke contests, the talk shows, and still more soap operas. For SIX SOLID HOURS we stared with sappy smiles like dogs begging for food – the food, of course, being our visas. In the sixth hour, exhausted by our goofy, zombie-like expressions, she finally stood up with our passports, got the signatures, and gave us our extensions. Man, I hope that five minutes of work didn’t wear you out, lady.

Now here’s the clincher: none of this was even necessary. All the hoops that we had to jump through haven’t been required by the Indonesian government in over a year! The office in Maumere is just so in love with the crap, they refuse to give it up. Welcome to Indonesia.

If you see something swimming by in the video above which looks like an underwater Far Side cartoon creature wearing horn-rimmed glasses, that would be the mimic octopus. Mimic octopus? If you are wondering where you heard that name before, it might be that you read a recent National Geographic article about the discovery of a species of jaw fish which, ironically enough, mimics the mimic octopus. (That’s a lot of mimicry!)

We spent a couple of days at Ankermi Happy Dive Resort in northern Flores diving their world-famous muck sites. Lucky finds included: mimic octopus, long-arm octopus, a dazzling variety of nudibranchs, cuttlefish, yellow and black seahorses, an adult painted frogfish, 4 large harlequin ghost pipefish… it’s like a muck diving miracle.

There were also several extremely small animals we had never seen before such as bizarrely tiny pipefish and micro-nudibranchs. These animals were so small that we actually dove with a magnifying glass. Filming during muck dives is always a challenge as, unlike the jaw fish and the mimic octopus, we don’t have the ability to mimic our surroundings. Despite the challenges, of all our dive videos, this just might be one of our favorites.

Up at 3:45 AM – man, that’s painful – and I had to practically drag Tony out of bed onto the floor to get him to wake up. (Getting Tony up that early is like waking a Tasmanian devil.) The last major activity on our tour was watching the sunrise over Mount Kelimutu, our second Indonesian volcano after Bromo. Famous for its three colorful crater lakes, Kelimutu is quite the natural wonder. The mineral-rich lakes all vary in color, and due to chemical reactions in the water, the colors can dramatically change over time. I had seen pictures of brown, green, yellow and even red lakes. Needless to say, we were curious to see what color combination was in store for us.

After a 35-minute drive and a short walk up the mountain, we found ourselves standing atop Inspiration Point (1,647m/5,404ft), the viewpoint from where all three crater lakes can be seen. Although it was still dark, locals had already set up shop to sell hot drinks to the early risers. Thank god. At 5 AM, I badly needed a little caffeine boost.

Tony stands next to the Bewitched Lake

By the time the first rays crept over the rim of Tiwu Nuwa Muri Koo Fai – the Lake of Young Men and Maidens – it was already light enough to see the lake’s brilliant turquoise color. The steep, mostly barren crater walls were so high, it took another hour before the long shadow over the lake gave way to what looked like a pool of thick acrylic paint streaked with traces of frothy yellow sulfur.

Beyond, separated by a thin crater wall, was Tiwu Ata Polo – the Bewitched Lake. Although depicted as red on the old 5,000 rupiah note, the lake is now a slightly darker turquoise than its twin. Too bad, I was hoping for some funky volcanic color combinations. (Gosh, am I getting spoiled?) But, of course, there was one more lake to go.

For most of our time at the summit, Tiwu Ata Mbupu – the Lake of Old People – was obscured by low-hanging clouds. But eventually they lifted and, indeed, revealed a different color. Black. Nothing flashy, but an impressive, deep-black lake which beautifully reflected the high, forest-covered walls enclosing it.

As I turned to take in the stunning 360 degree view over Kelimutu, I thought about the local visitors who come here for an entirely different reason. They believe that the spirits of the dead reside in these lakes – thus their names. One lake is the resting place for young souls, one for old, and one for wicked. This, of course, brings us right back to Tony. Where do souls reside when they’re old AND wicked? Hmmm.

Our latest foray into the tribal cultural of Flores was a visit to Wologai, a traditional Lionese village situated on a beautifully forested volcanic ridge an hour past Ende. (The topography of Flores is phenomenal.)

Wologai is one of the few villages in the Ende district with well preserved Lionese art and architecture. Because of its adherence to traditional building practices, the village serves as the location for several of the Lio tribe’s celebrations.

The villagers were friendly yet shy, and quite adamant that we follow certain rules while walking through Wologai. We were allowed to walk through the circle of huts around the central terraced platform, but they asked us not to enter the tall ceremonial house. The cermonial house is said to contain several sacred objects including a ritual drum made of human skin. (Yikes!)

The huts themselves were quite interesting. Many window frames and major beams were carved with interesting animal, plant and abstract motifs. As with most tribes in Flores, although the Lio tribe describe themselves as Catholics, their architecture tells a much more complex story.

Lio villages have masculine houses keda kanga and female houses sao ria, each featuring unique layout, orientation, and design. Sao ria feature a very large pair of carved breasts near the entrance. The layout of the sao ria metaphorically represents a mother’s body, the door being the entrance to the womb. There’s a lot going on here which is not immediately obvious to the casual visitor, but animism and fertility rituals are most certainly an ongoing part of Lionese culture. Anthropology buffs can read more about the culture here (PDF).

I really wish we had had more time at Wologai. The thrill of a visit to this remarkable village was in the tiny, mysterious details. And, sometimes, in the not-so-tiny details. One house had an amazing open-armed carving – I have no idea if it was just a piece of art or whether it had some symbolic meaning. More time at Wologai would also have meant more access. Casual visitors are not allowed to enter the ceremonial house, but visitors who stay a day and offer a goat for sacrifice can, apparently, enter this mysterious hut and view the sacred objects. To be honest, although I am curious, I’m not sure I would want to kill an animal to check it out.

Info on Visiting Wologai

Wologai is not automatically included on every Flores tour, so if you want to experience Lionese culture, you will have to make sure it is included on your itinerary. Wologai is about 36km from Ende and is accessible by public transportation. Ask in hotels in Ende for the latest details.

On our way from Riung to Moni, we broke up the long journey at Blue Stone Beach on the southern coast of Flores. Famous for the colorful baby blue rocks which wash up on a stretch of black volcanic sand, the beach is featured on every tour itinerary. Blue Stone Beach, Blue Stone Beach, Blue Stone Beach. It sounds incredibly exotic. I couldn’t wait to see this masterpiece of nature.

But it wasn’t there.

Dozens upon dozens of Indonesian entrepreneurs have taken it upon themselves to gather up the unique, pastel blue stones and haul them off to markets across the country. Right next to the road, a line of sales people pawn bucketloads of rocks to passersby. Obviously, this is no small-scale business. Suddenly, I flashed back to blue stone reflecting pools in Bali, blue stone walkways in Lombok, and blue stone flooring in Java. Apparently, this once grand miracle of nature is being devoured by designers.

Surprisingly, tour operators still “thrill” guests with a short stop at “The Incredible Shrinking Blue Stone Beach”. But there’s something seriously wrong when your first reaction is “This is it?” Granted, I uttered these same exact words when I saw the Grand Canyon for the very first time, so I might require more bang for my buck than an average tourist. Blue Stone Beach just sounded so amazing. As it turns out, Blue Stone Beach without blue stones is – well – just a beach.

Blue Stone Beach is getting less and less blue

Most guidebooks and online resources suggest that the range of the Komodo dragon (Varanus komodoensis) is limited to Komodo, Rinca, Gili Motang, Gili Dasami, and the mainland of Flores just opposite Rinca. So imagine our surprise when we discovered a population of “dragons” here in the Riung archipelago as well.

What?

Apparently, locals have known for some time that large monitors inhabit the shores of northern Flores to the west of Riung as well as some of the offshore islands. Locals suggest the government is only now taking notice of the Riung dragons’ existence. For centuries, colonists and travelers have been passing through Flores and, somehow, they seem to have missed the dragons of Riung. Could that be possible? After 30 years of dragon tourism in Komodo and several years of inflated tourist boat prices, wouldn’t the people of Riung have gotten in on the act?

I did some research online and there are very few references to the Riung dragons to be found. Almost all of the search results lead into Indonesian tour company websites. Many of these sites reference the animal as Varanus riungensis. I searched for this scientific name in several wildlife databases, but found no credible references. The few online pictures claiming to be Varanus riungensis looked exactly like small Komodo dragons, water monitors or smaller land monitors.

However, while we were viewing the flying foxes at Pantai Ontoloe, there was a government boat anchored in the bay supposedly working with Riung’s hidden dragons. Our boat captain told us that rangers of Seventeen Island Marine Park were feeding the dragons to “keep them alive.” I prefer to think that they were baiting the dragons to count them. We asked if we could go watch the feeding, but the captain responded that the dragons were “too dangerous because they weren’t used to people.” Hmmm.

Varanus komodoensis (photographed in Rinca)

I had my suspicions about these Riung dragons. I was wondering if the people of Riung were poaching dragons from Komodo or Rinca and introducing them to Riung in an attempt to stake their claim in dragon tourism. Or perhaps, locals might be showing unsuspecting tourists large water monitors or land monitors and claiming they were a new species.

But it appears that these Riung dragons do indeed exist and they are actually endemic to the area. Although the Komodo dragon page at NationalGeographic.com writes that the animal’s range is limited to the immediate area around Komodo, I noticed a small info-graphic which showed the range extended into northern Flores as well. This caused me to go back and look again. Wikipedia makes vague reference to the newly created Wolo Tado Reserve, which I discovered is a small, relatively unknown reserve inland from Riung. How exciting! When I Googled Wolo Tado, I discovered another article in National Geographic confirming the dragons do exist in Wolo Tado. I guess National Geographic needs to consolidate its own information. I have no idea where tour companies are getting the term Varanus riungensis. If anyone knows, please let us know in the comment section below.

So why did I spend so much time worrying about whether these dragons were truly endemic to the region around Riung? Because this traveler wanted to know if this was just another tourist scam, or whether the twenty-first century could still leave us an area where giant lizards roam wild without a complete tourist infrastructure. It appears there are still many interesting things to discover out there.

After sitting in a car for several days, we’ve decided to mix it up a little and change our mode of transportation. From Riung town, located on the northern coast of Flores, we chartered a boat to take us around the Seventeen Islands Marine Park known for its beaches, coral gardens and interesting wildlife. For $45, our motley group of four was promised a fun day out which included snorkeling, flying-fox spotting, and island hopping with a BBQ on Pulau Tiga.

First off was a visit to Pantai Ontoloe, a coastal mangrove forest which is home to the biggest colony of flying foxes I have ever seen. I can’t even begin to estimate the number of these incredible animals, but it must have been in the millions. Amazing! Every inch of every branch was taken up by bats quarreling over prime hanging spots. Many were up in the air. Circling above us in unbelievable numbers, the furry chocolate-brown creatures blackened the sky. Add to that the deafening noise of their shrieks, and it felt like an Asian remake of that Hitchcock classic The Birds.

En route to Pulau Tiga (with my jaw still dropping), we stopped at a couple of places to snorkel. For those snorkelers coming from Komodo, the marine park may not quite live up to their expectations. The fish and coral life is not as plentiful, and, due to the archipelago’s proximity to a number of coastal stilt-house communities, there was quite a bit of plastic trash floating in the water (at least on the day we were there). That said, the archipelago’s underwater world is much better than anything we’ve seen under water along Thailand’s Andaman coast. Nice patches of colorful soft corals, a small school of bumphead parrotfish as well as our first juvenile crocodile fish kept us happy. We actually spent over an hour snorkeling off of Pulau Tiga while Frans and the boat captain prepared the BBQ.

And the BBQ was worth the whole trip. Frans had gone out of his way to make this an amazing experience. From his own money, he bought two chickens in the market to add some variety to our otherwise seafood-heavy barbecue. After everything was plucked, scaled, cut and cooked, we were presented with a beautiful buffet of grilled fish, squid and chicken as well as veggies, rice, tomato salad, noodles and fruit salad. Yum!

All in all, we had a fantastic day in the Riung archipelago. Besides discovering the biggest bat colony ever, we made another AMAZING discovery… but that will have to wait until our next post.

Tell Congress not to censor the web

Apparently, the number 3 is very important to these Ngada kids. Unfortunately, we couldn’t figure out why. Three musketeers, three little pigs, three’s company, three strikes out, three stooges? It’ll just have to remain a mystery.

Neila and Gregorius

One of the highlights of any trip to Flores is certainly a visit to the Ngada tribal villages near Bajawa. As with the Sasak tribe in Lombok, the Ngada are struggling to balance their ancient traditions with the curiosity of outsiders and gradual modernization.

We visited Luba and Bena to get a taste of Ngada culture. Unlike Sade in Lombok, the Ngada villages do not have a local guide system in place, which can make visiting the villages somewhat awkward. And for some reason, Frans left us to enter the village on our own. (I’m not sure what was going on there.)

Most visitors come to the villages to experience their impressive tribal art and architecture. But you really can’t just wander around staring at people’s houses, eying their carvings and sticking your head in their doors. (At least in my world you can’t.) In reality, that’s precisely what a lot of tourists do and it’s a real shame because the people can be quite hospitable, especially in smaller villages like Luba.

Thomas with Lucia and Neila

Feeling awkward when I first entered Luba, I walked up to an old woman selling ikats, the traditional hand-woven tribal sarongs, and blurted out in Indonesian, “Nama saya Tony.” My name is Tony. She started cracking up and, with a big smile, said, “Nama saya Lucia.” Somehow touched by my goofy introduction, Lucia seemed to forget her goal of selling me an ikat and, instead, introduced me to her neighbors Gregorius and Neila. We spent the next half hour chatting with these amazing people laughing hysterically at our own inability to communicate in Indonesian. (Older Ngada aren’t especially fluent in Indonesian either.)

It’s pretty clear by their names that Catholic missionaries have had their influence on the Ngada as well as the other tribal peoples of Flores. But a quick look around Luba and neighboring Bena immediately reveals that many of their animist traditions are still very much intact. Ancient megalithic tomb structures, many with offerings, decorate the terraced village squares. Along the stone-walled terraces, families erect ngadu, thatched umbrella structures representing the male, and bhaga, small thatched huts representing the female. Apparently ngadu and bhaga are used in rituals relating to ancestor worship. Additionally, stacks of water buffalo skulls reveal the importance of ritual buffalo sacrifice to the Ngada. Let’s just say, the Pope would not be amused.

And while he might not be amused, UNESCO certainly is. The artistic and architectural heritage of the Ngada tribe has gained the attention of UNESCO which is working to maintain the architectural integrity of villages such as Luba and Bena. Most Westerners would never guess it, but those thatched roofs are incredibly expensive. Many Ngada have had to switch to tin roofs because they can no longer afford to buy the expensive grass used to make traditional roofs. UNESCO is offering funds to pay for that grass as well as cobbling village walkways.

So far UNESCO’s work seems to be paying off, especially in beautiful Bena. The view as you approach Bena feels like a scene out of an Indiana Jones movie. Rows of tall, thatched huts rise out of the forest framing the ultimate Ngada square. Not a single tin roof. Bena’s perfect stone-walled terraces are decorated with many ngadu and bhaga as well as some of the most impressive megalithic tombs in the Ngada region. Between the ngadu and bhaga, cobs of bright yellow corn lay drying in the sun.

As we walked up the cobbled paths under the shade of the huts, old women sat on their terraces selling beautifully woven ikat. The women were more business-like here than in neighboring Luba, but they were welcoming. A young girl returning from church ran by in her pink Sunday dress gawking at us as if we were aliens emerging from a UFO.

The young girl, who looked a bit like one of those contestants in a child beauty pageant, sat on one of the megalithic tombs nearby and eyed us curiously as we moved up to a view point near the top of the village. The view point provided a remarkable 360 degree view over the village, a series of volcanic valleys leading to the coast, and the steep walls of Inerie, the volcano which backs Bena. It’s an atmosphere from another age, an atmosphere very worth preserving. And to add to that atmosphere a bit, I’m including another old, open-source photo below of the Ngada way back when.

Info on Visiting Ngada Villages

The Ngada villages are included on most tours between Labuanbajo and Kelimutu/Maumere. Independent travelers can visit the villages from Bajawa. There are literally dozens of traditional villages in the area including some very remote villages which are only accessible by foot. Local cultural guides and trekking guides can be found through hotels in Bajawa. Some villages are accessible by public bemos, but independent travelers will find it easier to really get out and explore the area by hired car or motorbike.

After four and a half years in Asia, I really thought that we had seen just about every conceivable form of rice terrace known to man. From the Dragon’s Backbone in China to Nepal’s Annapurna Circuit to the terraces of Northern Luzon – I thought we had seen it all. Apparently not.

The Manggarai tribe of western Flores lays out their rice terraces in an incredible spiderweb design. Locals explain that the unique patterns evolved out of the need to subdivide fields to pass them on to children. (Couldn’t you just do that with squares?)

Clearly, the Manggarai have a certain flair for design. Their tall, conical clan houses are also quite impressive despite the fact that the European colonists pressured them to alter the designs because, as we all know, civilized people need walls.

Or do they? After centuries of architectural oppression, a single, extremely isolated village, Waerebo, has maintained the original design of their enormous multi-family huts (click here for picture). Good for you Waerebo, don’t let those colonists dampen your artistic vision.

Unfortunately, we only discovered the location of Waerebo once we had started our tour. So here’s the first disadvantage of a tour, you can’t suddenly change directions when you discover a hidden treasure. But that disadvantage was countered by another advantage. When we first went to the viewpoint over the terraces, a thunderstorm broke out blocking the view. Never fear, fantastic Frans actually drove us all the way back the next morning to see them in the sun. Now that’s service!

Our first stop leaving Ruteng was the Liang Bua cave, which made headlines around the world in 2003 for the discovery of tiny Homo floresiensis, otherwise known by the media as the “Flores hobbit”. Since their discovery, the bones of H. floresiensis have been the subject of intense scientific debate: does this population of three-foot-high people represent a species distinct from modern humans, or do they represent a population of humans with unique genetic characteristics or disorders?

As of 2012, the general scientific consensus seems to be that the Flores hobbit represents a distinct species. Archaeological evidence shows that the mysterious Flores hobbit lived until 12,000 years ago making it the last non-modern human to walk the planet. Beyond archaeological evidence, legends of the Ebu Gogo people, a tribe of tiny, hairy, linguistically challenged people, who are said to have survived in remote parts of Flores until the late 19th century, kick imaginations into overdrive. This is some pretty cool stuff.

So it’s, perhaps, not surprising that the Liang Bua cave has become somewhat of a pilgrimage site for science buffs. We showed up hoping for the inside scoop on one of the 21st century’s ultimate science stories. Instead, we got a short course in Indonesian incompetence and dysfunction. Upon arrival, we were made to pay a “donation” and hire “a guide”, who led us 100 ft (30m) along a road to the cave, pointed at the dirt, and said, “They found the hobbit there.” The end. No information, no display, just a hefty $10 charge. (Or at least that’s what they wanted us to pay.)

What the guide ended up getting was a GRAND Tony lecture on the importance of the site and the absurdity of not being able to do anything but charge a fee. (The lecture was loud, involved visuals, and lasted 10 minutes.) I could not understand why such an important site would be so neglected – until I did a little research.

The discoveries at Liang Bua and the resulting debate and scandal don’t paint a pretty picture of Indonesia. The concept that H. floresiensis was a distinct species was vocally opposed by Teuku Jacob, an influential Indonesian paleoanthropologist and nationalist who had been an active participant in the Indonesian revolution. Jacob argued that H. floresiensis was actually a population of microcephalic humans and not a new species. In 2004, Jacob removed the H. floresiensis remains from Jakarta’s National Research Center of Archaeology for his own research, some suggest without proper permission. Three months later, the remains were returned with serious damage including long, deep cuts caused by a knife used to remove a rubber mold and, most incredibly, the jaw bone which had been snapped off and glued back on.

Beyond the damage to the remains, in 2005 the Liang Bua cave was closed to researchers. BBC reports on the closure suggest that the Indonesian government had closed the caves to prevent foreign researchers from disproving Teuku Jacob’s theories on the Flores hobbit. Wow, that certainly explains the complete lack of archaeological information offered up to us by guides at the cave.

The debate, the science, and the scandal read like something out of a Michael Crichton novel – it’s immensely interesting. Definitely take a peek at Wikipedia’s extensive and very up-to-date article on H. floresiensis.

And no, we did not pay $10 for the visit to the caves.

Who would have thought that overnighting in Ruteng’s convent, Kongregasi Santa Maria Berdukacita, could be a highlight on its own. Not so much for the spiritual pleasures, I might add, but rather for the earthly ones.

Our first HOT shower in five weeks in the Catholic nunnery-slash-hotel has almost made me a believer. The super-clean rooms, the comfortable beds, the beautifully landscaped gardens and the smiling, sweet-natured sisters just might be proof of a higher power.

If it weren’t for the 9 PM curfew, I would be a total convert. After nine o’clock, however, you are either locked in or locked out. Having said that, turning in early certainly had its advantage. There was plenty of time for another lengthy, steaming-hot shower (and I have a feeling this might be the last one for a while).