10:30 on a Tuesday.
I suspected the office staff would be sparse during the Easter holiday. However, not quite this sparse. I didn’t work a lick for the entire last week and this is the second day with no signs of life. There is a rumor that we are having a meeting tonight. So I’ve come home… to wait for the workday to begin (maybe). After a brief moral struggle, I am savoring my icy margarita-esque drink. I assure you that drinking at 10:30 on a workday with intentions of going to the office in a bit is not a normal course of action. However, somehow I felt deserving as I sit, dripping sweat, under the corrugated tin roof with no electric and no work to be done. And indeed it is delish… cheers to tequila, salt, and limes.
******
Easter weekend.
Last Easter a VSO group converged upon the beach in Maumere for a lobster feast and copious bottles of cold Bintang. This year lacked a definite plan for passing the long weekend. So I sent out an SOS, inviting all volunteers with in a 10 hour radius to join me in neighboring Riung. Two takers. My co-volunteer in Mbay and an Irishman who braved a bus literally overflowing with passengers (Mark at least managed a seat inside on a coil of rope arranged in the aisle… other brave souls clung to the roof or sat in the windows as the bus no doubt haphazardly cruised the desolate north road en-route to Mbay).
Riung is praised for boasting the ‘Seventeen Islands National Park’. The park comprises of not 17 but rather more than 20 islands… some of which are located under the water (???). Mark and I agreed that we are pretty sure that part of the requirements to be an island is to be a body of land that is surrounded by water… not covered by it. Nevertheless, it was lovely. A sleepy palm –tree-lined town completely void of tourist except for our small posse.
The hotel manager arranged our entire island hoping excursion (as well as accompanying us... not sure if this was out of necessity or rather boredom). With a breakfast of banana pancakes in our stomachs and bags loaded with bottles of water, we boarded the whitewashed boat.
First stop was the bat island. A herd? flock? pride? pod? … a lot of flying foxes (big fruit bats) have colonized an island near the coast of Flores. The tree tops no longer green are shrouded in a screeching, grey flutter of nocturnal life.
On the way to our lunching local, we stopped to take in the underwater coral gardens. Crystal clear, we gazed in to the depths of the sea as the boat anchored onto a floating water bottle that marked the snorkeling spot. Throughout the day, we stopped at 3 different snorkeling locals. Each spectacularly rewarding.
Vividly colored fish in a vast array of sizes and levels of inquisitiveness.
Shy sea turtles.
Massive starfish.
Black spiky urchins.
An array of coral in various rainbowed hues.
But lunch. Astonishingly exhausted after merely floating around on the still waters, we were welcomed to our very own white sand rimmed, deserted island. Our guide and boat captain set to work… cleaning fish, building a fire from deteriorating coconut husks (shells), mixing up a special fish marinade. Besides sand and coconut trees, the island oddly had 3 shaded, tiled tables (albeit fairly rundown, obviously from better days) and just enough wooden chairs (although one was missing a leg and two more had lost their backs) for our party. Rice, grilled fish, green vegetables, and a sweet-lemon-chili accompaniment were scooped into woven baskets. Toes in the sand and a picture perfect turquoise sea painted before our eyes. The still green mountains of Flores hovering not far away, fluffy white clouds tickling their peaks.
Indeed, we might not have celebrated the holiest day on the island in a church bursting with parishioners, but we did celebrate. We soaked it in…
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