One year. The clichéd question… where does time go? April concluded my first year of working (excluding time for language training) in Indonesia… and commenced my second. To mark the anniversary, my VSO supervisor came for a visit and evaluation. My local counterpart, after arriving late, announced that I should stay for 5 more years… then read the local newspapers for the remainder of the evaluation process. At this point, I confirmed the product of my time here is more important than the process… even if it takes 5 years. So I disappear from work for 2 days and hit the road to Ruteng.
Ravi and Festus are the chums of Ruteng. A duo. And perfectly hospitable. VSO volunteers, the former from India working on fruit and vegetable marketing. The later from Kenya charged with securing water sources and sanitation. Both in the same local NGO. Ravi had promised Bintang, dancing, and karaoke. All of which he delivered in abundance. A bit of ‘chicken and the egg’… which came first? Beer or karaoke?
Ravi had also promised no rain. He lied. Torrents from the sky. Fyi, motorbike driving is no good in rainy season. Dripping from the 5 minute drive from the bus station to Ravi’s house. Bones chilled. Coffee and a snuggly sweater don’t even warm. A stark contrast to the sunny beach tourist brochures of Bali highlights.
Ruteng is similar to Bajawa. Nestled into the mountains, chilly, and rainy. A stronghold of coffee producers that export around the globe. Raise your Starbucks mugs... cheers. Community rice paddies that are curiously designed like spider webs for consistent and equitable distributions shared amongst the members of the collective farmers’ groups. Monasteries abound. Catholic nuns walk arm in arm through the paved streets. The wealth of the region thanks to the coffee production is apparent. The streets even have stoplights to accommodate the increasing number of automobiles!
But the claim to fame for Ruteng is the Flores Hobbit. A discovery that has perplexed. A discovery that the scientist cannot agree on its authenticity. A new species of human? Perhaps. Tiny adult human remains were unearthed in a cave dripping with stony stalagmites; concealed away in the green hills just outside of the city limits. Frodo’s hobbit relation may not have movie credits but nevertheless does receive periodic mention in the popular press. Receiving no fan fare, a brief mention in the Lonely Planet may be your only clue to this hobbit’s final resting place. A small wooden stake in the damp earth of an archeological excavation site. Enclosed by barbwire fencing. A local man keeps the sole key for curious visitors to have a closer inspection… of an empty shallow hole. Visitors can even have lunch at the random picnic table that sits a mere two feet away from the grave. Only slightly morbid. But you won’t find locals here… it’s haunted. Obviously they’ve never heard… When there’s something strange in your neighborhood, who you going to call? Ghostbusters!
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