“By now, Putri Has Named me “Auntie Cels” — the greatest gift I’ve received in a long time.”
I have long left Flores island. Now, I am in a luxurious private room, with a busy street outside filled with scooters and cars. The locals don’t stare at me and there’s no children yelling ‘Miss Miss’. While I certainly enjoy this place, and I am excited to write about it, I will first go back a little in time. It’s been over two weeks since Mau and me left Flores and our beautiful experience in Riung behind.
What you’ll read about:
Scooter Karaoke
Local Friends and Dancing in the Rain
A Real-Life Movie Scene
Bats and Fish around Riung
Teacher for an Hour
An Ode to our Favorite Place on the Island
Goodbye…
Scooter Karaoke
Around noon, our bags are packed, and we somehow manage to puzzle all of them onto the scooter. It’s a struggle, but we make it work, and with Mau at the steering wheel, we hit the road. The journey begins along the ocean, and the breeze on my face dries the sweat, making me forget about the burning sun.
After nearly an hour, we take a turn inland and start climbing into the mountains. The road is easy enough to follow — for the most part, there’s only one — but the turns are sharp and frequent, challenging Mau.
On our way!
I’m awestruck by the view and savor the wind on my face. Everyone we pass smiles, waves, and shouts “Mister!” at us, and I smile and wave back. Somewhere along the way, we spot a little roadside shop selling speakers. I tell Mau to stop so we can take a look — we’ve been listening to music through my phone, but the sound is muffled by the wind. For IDR150,000 (€8), we buy a tiny karaoke set: a Bluetooth speaker and two microphones. For the rest of the ride, I’m on the back of the scooter, singing into the mic, feeling like the main character in a feel-good movie.
A drive that’s supposed to take two to three hours ends up taking us nearly six, but we make it to Riung before dark. We haven’t booked a place to stay, but Mau knows someone who knows someone, and that’s enough. We end up with a bungalow for the two of us at Nirvana Bungalows. The owner, a cousin of one of Mau’s friends, welcomes us like we’re distant family.
Mau in front of our bungalow
We’re excited, but tired too, so we rest for an hour or so before heading out for dinner — which we end up having right there at Nirvana.
Local Friends and Dancing in the Rain
The next day, we take it slow and try to acclimate to our new home for the week. So much has happened in so little time, and I’ve been itching to catch up in my journal. We brave the heat and set off on a quest for a nice spot to sit, get a drink, and later, eat lunch.
The town feels quiet — almost empty. The few people we pass stare at us until we’re out of sight, but it doesn’t feel impolite. Everyone greets us, and we greet them back. “Selamat pagi!” — good morning.
We arrive at the harbor — nothing like a harbor we’re used to — and find a little restaurant, called Rico Rico, that is completely empty except for a few people we assume work there. We sit down, order iced tea, and journal away.
I notice the enormous stereo, but nothing’s playing until one of the guys asks us if it’s okay if he plays music and we agree. Not much later, it starts raining. Caught up in my ecstatic mood that, I run outside and start dancing in the downpour with my feet buried in the sand. The locals laugh at me supportively and a little later I convince Mau to join me.
In Belgium, I often complain about the never-ending rain, but when there’s no wind, instead a temperature of 30°C, the rain creates a completely different atmosphere and it is something I long for almost every day.
The smell of fried corn fills the air and we get invited to the group. Everyone gets introduced, but the names have to be repeated multiple times over the next hours. Like most things we say actually, because the language barrier is bigger than in most places I’ve been. We sit down and talk for hours – the air is filled with smoke and my forehead is sweaty again, but the introvert I thought I was a couple of years ago is nowhere to be found. I talk and joke with these strangers (and Mau) like we’ve known each other forever.
A Real-Life Movie Scene
That evening, after a shower at the bungalow, we return to Rico and share a beer. We listen to Aten, one of the locals we met earlier, singing and playing his guitar. Abi, another local, who has the most contagious smile, sits and drums on the cajon, and a man called Lucifer joins in on the bass. Later in the evening, Mau takes over the microphone and sings Zombie by The Cranberries, ending with a loud applause and cheers from everyone (I’m definitely the loudest). We’re the only ones there, but the music fills the air and makes the place feel anything but empty. We dance and sing along to the songs we know, and I feel completely free.
It’s one of those moments — like the final scene of a dramatic movie, where the main character has overcome heartbreak and chaos, and finally learns to love herself. She’s dancing with her eyes closed and her arms wide open, and as you watch from your couch or bed, you think that doesn’t happen in real life. At least, that’s what I used to think — until now. Only this doesn’t feel like the end of my movie. It feels like the beginning. (How cliché)
Bats and Fish around Riung
The next morning, we wake up early for a boat tour around the small islands off the coast of Riung. There are seventeen in total, but we visit three. Aten is our guide, and Abi tags along too. The night before, we met two German girls and agreed to rent the boat together.
The view is stunning. The first island is home to tens of thousands of bats — not your average ones either. Abi tells us they’re called flying foxes. From a distance, the trees seem to have black leaves, but as we get closer, those leaves start to flutter. and then they’re not leaves at all, but wings and there’s thousands of them. We stay on the boat, drifting in place, staring at the bats flying over our heads.
Flying foxes in the tree
The boat stops a little offshore the second island and we jump into the clear blue water. We put on our fins and snorkel masks and explore the corals covering the sea floor, watching small fish dart in and out of them, unbothered by our presence. It’s beautiful, I won’t deny that, but I’ve never felt as big a connection with the ocean as I do with nature above sea level. Mau, on the other hand, is completely in her element and swims around like she belongs to a school of fish.
To fight the boredom (apologies to all the ocean lovers), I take some deep dives, challenging my eardrums, until that too stops holding my interest. I’m the first one of the swimmers setting foot on the island, but the boatmen and Abi are already there, setting up the barbeque.
The other girls join us eventually and we sit on a large tree trunk and talk about our travels while the men prepare the food (how’s that for gender roles). There’s rice and noodles and vegetables, and of course, big grilled fish. We feast, then laze on the beach or boat, letting our full stomachs settle to the rhythm of the waves.
Teacher for an Hour
The following day, we’re taken to a primary school. Cathy and Lea, from Switzerland and France, joined us the previous evening at Rico, and we’re visiting the kids in school to give an English lesson. We’re all a little lost with what’s expected from us, but the children welcome us with arms wide open and smiles as big as their face.
Mau, Lea, Cathy and me with the primary school teachers
We ask them simple questions — like what’s their age or favorite color — and when they answer in English correctly, they get a math question in Bahasa Indonesian. As reward, they get a notebook and pencil, which we hand over to them. Our reward: an enormous amount of gratitude from each one of them.
When it’s my turn, I ask this eleven year old girl what she likes to do — her favorite hobby — and she answers it’s singing. Everyone gets excited and instead of a math question, she’s asked to perform, which she does without hesitation. We give her a microphone, and with no supporting music, she uses her voice to create the most beautiful sound. I don’t understand the words, but her voice carries all the meaning it needs.
The children look overly excited to have our company, but I don’t think they realize I share that feeling with them. They are loving and sweet, and some of them speak English surprisingly well.
The students posing for the camera
An Ode to our Favorite Place on the Island
Rico Rico became our second home. We slept at the bungalow, but lived at the restaurant. Awing, the owner, treats us like family. He even lets me crash in his home one night when Mau disappeared with the key to the bungalow, leaving me locked outside.
Every night, there is this one guy handing out shots of Arak, a traditional Indonesian drink made of the fermented sap of palm trees, like it’s his purpose in life, and while the first taste is terrible, after a couple, you get used to it and not much later everyone is on the dancefloor, screaming to On Met La Patate. We play the songs at least twice every night. By the second time, everyone yells ‘We are Belgium’ to the lyrics. After the fourth time, some are able to sing along to the chorus.
There’s an Indonesian girl working at Rico Rico who I quickly grow close to. Putri is an incredible young woman — just 21 years old — and already the mother of two little girls. My Indonesian is non-existent and her English is limited too, so most of our communication happens through dancing, smiles, and the occasional help of Google Translate.
Her eldest daughter was staying with Putri’s grandmother at the time, so we only got to meet Aulia, her two-year-old ray of sunshine. Aulia loved dancing to our so-called Belgian anthem just as much as we did, and she stole everyone’s heart every time she smiled.
Putri, Aulia and Auntie Cels!
Goodbye…
On our last day in Riung, we first say goodbye to Tam, the owner of Nirvana Bungalows. He’s one of the kindest men I’ve ever met, and as we part, he tells us we’re always welcome to return. We even talk about the possibility of coming back one day to volunteer — teaching his staff some basic English and hospitality etiquette.
We then head to Rico one final time to say goodbye to the locals who, in record time, have become our friends. We sit down, drink a lemonade, and procrastinate getting on the bike, until we finally have to leave in order to reach Ende before dark.
By now, Putri has named me “Auntie Cels” — the greatest gift I’ve received in a long time. Awing compares us to his daughters and calls us his “lucky charms”, since the restaurant suddenly began to fill with tourists as soon as Mau and I started our karaoke nights. Abi calls me his sister and “best, best, best friend,” and makes me pinky-promise I’ll come back. “I’ll be waiting for you,” he says.
They all stand in a line as we prepare to leave, waving with both hands and smiling until the very last second. Mau starts the engine, and I turn to wave back until we take the first turn and they disappear from view.
My face is wet — I don’t know if it’s sweat or a tear rolling down my cheek. Maybe both. But I’m not sad. I’m overflowing with gratitude, full of something warmer and deeper than joy: contentment.
FLTR: Abi, Putri with Aulia, me, Maure, Aten and Awing
To finish, I want to say this: I’m endlessly thankful for my friend Mau. Without her, I would’ve never gone on this trip. Somehow, we bring out the wildest, happiest, most adventurous sides of each other, and I can’t wait for the many impulsive journeys still ahead — where we don’t make plans, just follow our hearts (and the locals).
OMG! I almost forgot the highlight (or not so much) of the trip… On our drive back to Ende, the odds were NOT in our favor, and chickens, dogs and goats kept obstructing our path. Mau carefully zigzagged around them until one goat decided to make sudden run for it, and jumped in front of our scooter! The goat was fine, but I fell off and broke my pinky finger. What a way to end the trip.
Some things I’ve learned (and would recommend):
Don’t plan too much. The best moments usually aren’t on the itinerary
When a place feels like home, stay a little longer
Say yes when someone invites you to sit, dance, sing, or eat with them (bonus points if they’re locals!)
Be generous with your smiles — they’re a universal language
Embrace the rain
BEWARE OF GOATS
I must admit, this might be my favorite blog I’ve written so far. It took a while – it was difficult trying to put myself in that moment again, but once I started writing, all the memories came back and I got engulfed by feelings of nostalgia.
Btw! The blog is getting some upgrades, you may or may not yet have noticed, but I now have an extra page called ‘Fragments‘ where I will post tiny highlights each day. The following weeks, I will be situated in Ubud and will mostly focus on some personal projects (including the blog), so there’s no great adventure planned yet, but who knows what experiences might cross my path?
CelsAway 
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