Jesse and I are in a region of Indonesia called Nusa Tenggara. Our first stop was the Island of Rote, just off the coast of Western Timor. Our destination was the small village of Nemberala. Known to be home to one of the best surf breaks in Eastern Indonesia.
Our accomidation for 12 days was a homestay owned by Mr. Thomas, and his wife Mama. They had several members of the family working for them who did all of the cooking for breaky, lunch, and dinner. Which was always fried fish, veggies, ramen noodles, salsa, and of course rice. Breakfast was coffee and freshly baked banana, or white bread, accompanied by homemade donuts which was difinitly a treat. It was great to stay with other travelers. We enjoyed friendship and fellowship with many of them.
To get to the beach we only had to walk three minutes down a path passing the local well, where women were always filling their buckets, and through a gem of a palm grove. We never knew what kind of animals we would pass. Sometimes goats, pigs, chickens, or dogs, sometimes giant cows that look like big bambis, and sometimes slightly built horses. We could always count on the smell of burning leaves or branches, or smoke from a smoldering garbage pile to accompany us on the short trip to the waters edge. The view from the beach showed the life of many on the villagers. We would see boats drifting in or out from a fishing trip, or from dropping a surfer off at the break. There were women and men walking out across the reef collecting seaweed from the steaked farms. The beach would never fail to have a few families of pigs running across it, eating seaweed off of the shore, or rooting in the sand. There was always activity, and every night families would walk down and enjoy the sunset together before eating their evening meals
It took twenty minutes to walk across the reef (littered with wooden stakes for seaweed harvesting) out to the surf break called T-Land. It is a long fun wave breaking to the left. Overall it was great surfing there. Life here was slow paced, but interesting. Three of the guests at Mr. Thomas' were from Australia there working with the local government to help with education One day we went on a trip with them and about thirteen of the village boys to an underground cave to go swimming. We had flashlights to explore and goggles and squirt guns for entertainment. Another of the teachers, Libby, who has studied weaving for years, originally came to the island to learn more. She took us to her weaving teachers house where we were able to ask questions and observe the beautifully woven ikats. She is one of the three remaining weavers in the village and is 76 years old and is still using natural dyes and the traditional patterns native to Rote Island.
It took a little while to adapt to Nemberala, but once we created friendships with our fellow travelers everything settled into place. Jesse drank the well water, it had a thick taste of hickory smoke. I resorted to bottled water. Two days before we left Jesse was having one of his best sessions surfing. On the last wave the fin of his board hit his shin. I gave him ten stiches and he is healing well.
The day after this happened an guy stopped by who looked vaguely familiar. He recognized us first. We met this him (Chris) during a camping trip to the east cape of Baja over four years ago. We were just out of tech school and I had sewed up a man's forehead who was hit by his board. Chris had a picture of me doing this on his i-pod! We couldn't believe it, after all those years we met again on another continent.
We decide to leave the day after Jess hurt his shin. He could not surf and it made sense to travel to our next destination and where that was we had no idea. We started by leaving the island on the five hour ferry. We were planning on going to Bali but then changed directions to Sumba. All of the flights were booked due to the Islamic holiday Ramadan. From there we decided to take a boat. We had no idea what we were in for. But that is for the next blog. Love Jessica
Our accomidation for 12 days was a homestay owned by Mr. Thomas, and his wife Mama. They had several members of the family working for them who did all of the cooking for breaky, lunch, and dinner. Which was always fried fish, veggies, ramen noodles, salsa, and of course rice. Breakfast was coffee and freshly baked banana, or white bread, accompanied by homemade donuts which was difinitly a treat. It was great to stay with other travelers. We enjoyed friendship and fellowship with many of them.
To get to the beach we only had to walk three minutes down a path passing the local well, where women were always filling their buckets, and through a gem of a palm grove. We never knew what kind of animals we would pass. Sometimes goats, pigs, chickens, or dogs, sometimes giant cows that look like big bambis, and sometimes slightly built horses. We could always count on the smell of burning leaves or branches, or smoke from a smoldering garbage pile to accompany us on the short trip to the waters edge. The view from the beach showed the life of many on the villagers. We would see boats drifting in or out from a fishing trip, or from dropping a surfer off at the break. There were women and men walking out across the reef collecting seaweed from the steaked farms. The beach would never fail to have a few families of pigs running across it, eating seaweed off of the shore, or rooting in the sand. There was always activity, and every night families would walk down and enjoy the sunset together before eating their evening meals
It took twenty minutes to walk across the reef (littered with wooden stakes for seaweed harvesting) out to the surf break called T-Land. It is a long fun wave breaking to the left. Overall it was great surfing there. Life here was slow paced, but interesting. Three of the guests at Mr. Thomas' were from Australia there working with the local government to help with education One day we went on a trip with them and about thirteen of the village boys to an underground cave to go swimming. We had flashlights to explore and goggles and squirt guns for entertainment. Another of the teachers, Libby, who has studied weaving for years, originally came to the island to learn more. She took us to her weaving teachers house where we were able to ask questions and observe the beautifully woven ikats. She is one of the three remaining weavers in the village and is 76 years old and is still using natural dyes and the traditional patterns native to Rote Island.
It took a little while to adapt to Nemberala, but once we created friendships with our fellow travelers everything settled into place. Jesse drank the well water, it had a thick taste of hickory smoke. I resorted to bottled water. Two days before we left Jesse was having one of his best sessions surfing. On the last wave the fin of his board hit his shin. I gave him ten stiches and he is healing well.
The day after this happened an guy stopped by who looked vaguely familiar. He recognized us first. We met this him (Chris) during a camping trip to the east cape of Baja over four years ago. We were just out of tech school and I had sewed up a man's forehead who was hit by his board. Chris had a picture of me doing this on his i-pod! We couldn't believe it, after all those years we met again on another continent.
We decide to leave the day after Jess hurt his shin. He could not surf and it made sense to travel to our next destination and where that was we had no idea. We started by leaving the island on the five hour ferry. We were planning on going to Bali but then changed directions to Sumba. All of the flights were booked due to the Islamic holiday Ramadan. From there we decided to take a boat. We had no idea what we were in for. But that is for the next blog. Love Jessica
Well, I wrote an extensive version of our travels from Siargao to Cimaja. Jesse told me that every detail was maybe a little too much to hold someone's attention. :O) So perhaps I will do a more simplistic recap of the most demanding 72 hours of my life.
