The skies cleared and the monsoon seemingly put to sleep for the day we set off down the hill from our home stay for breakfast just near where we had agreed to meet our bus.
In Indonesia there are no bus stops or published schedules. If you book ahead you agree a pickup location. Otherwise you just flag down what ever takes your fancy. One way or other there a way to get from a to b.
Our bus picks us up. It’s better than we expect with good seats, plenty of leg room and air conditioning.
On the whole the roads that we’ve been on have been good. Today is no exception. Mostly narrow, with mud and debris in places washed down by the monsoon rains. Once or twice we have to crawl over serious damage where there is no tarmac.
Progress is slow. Mostly in second and third gears. There are lots of mopeds to overtake. These deminish as we leave behind towns and enter more remote country side.
At times the road very windy and steep. In the end it takes us four hours to travel roughly 80 miles. It’s eventful and never boring.
Just as we arrive into Ruteng we book some accommodation so that we can let the bus company know where we are staying for the return pickup.
It’s a beautiful home stay and the owners speak good English and give us some ideas of things to see.
The others, decided they don’t want to walk, sending me off to scout. Never a good idea leaving me to my own devices.
I wanted to see the traditional village that’s on the other side of town so rather than getting a taxi I walked via the market.
The market is a real labyrinth of walk ways in a few buildings and a proper eclectic mix with everything on sale from local spices, vegetables and herbs, live chickens and other bits of meat, wet fish and masses of stalls of dried fish. Fruit including lots of bananas. Mixed in some other stalls selling fabrics and traditional Indonesian hats that were sadly all too small for me. Tobacco both smoking and chewing. Beetle nuts and leaves. So many unusual things.
All the stall holders kind and welcoming and eager to talk and share what they had
After the market I continued walking. Where ever you go people interact with you. Lots of “hello mister” from random people, often children. Smiles and more polite hellos from older people. It feels very welcoming.
Further out of town as I’m turning left towards the village some children call out and I stop to read a sign that’s that finishes with “bless us” in English. As I do so a man comes out and we get talking as best we can. He’s a barber called Shonysepa. So I enquire how much for a cut. Slightly less that £1. So I go for it. With in a minute or so I’m in his chair. We don’t have enough common language to explain what I want. So I just let him get on with it. While he’s working away an audience of the children from across the road builds, his wife and daughter comes out and we all have a laugh. It’s the first time he’s cut a foreigners hair. And it’s a first time for me that I’ve had my hair cut in the middle of no where by an Indonesian barber.
He offers me coffee which we drink together once he’s finished. It’s not just any old coffee, it’s coffee that he’s grown and roasted. This seems to be common in this part of the world. Much like I make cider from our apples, they make coffee from their coffee plants growing in their gardens.
We exchange WhatsApp numbers and I continue on my journey feeling truly blessed that I am lucky enough to meet so many kind people.
When I arrive at the traditional village I need 60k for the ticket. Unfortunately I only have 42k having blown 20k on my haircut. I try and explain but unfortunately it’s too difficult to get across where and why I spent my money. We just smile at each other and the lady kindly takes what I have and lets me walk around the village.
The village is circular in shape with a raised stone walk way around which are a number of Mbaru Niang, traditional cone-shaped houses The Manggarai people first setup the village in this are and then the town has expanded from there to its present size. Catholicism has been mixed in as the Dutch colonised the area and our host has a Christian first name – Philip.
It’s difficult to find much information about how old the village actually is. From what I could find out more than a couple of hundred years. But given the fertile land here it’s likely that these villages go back further.
On my way back to the home stay I stop at the catholic cathedral and am met at the gates by a Manchester United supporter. He kindly shows me around.
Later we go to the local warung for supper. Serving delicious Indonesian food the four of us are fed for something like £12/13. So much food and we leave full and content.
there’s much more about this day that I could write about. Like so many others on the road travelling, it was a day rich. Rich in human connection that leaves you knowing there’s good in the world.
