Koka Beach is even more beautiful in the morning light. I walk down there first thing with no real agenda apart from getting some photos. It’s hot and steamy already so I take a swim. The water is crystal clear and I have the beaches to myself for a while. Fishermen start coming in and with them their catch.
Some ladies have just open up their stalls so it’s deep-fried banana and coffees for me. Very relaxing.
It’s Sunday, church day and the only school-free day for the kids. Once church has finished the locals come down to the beach for fun. Kids come down in boisterous mini-packs or if they’re on bikes they come freewheeling at speed down the last stretch of bitumen road. It’s a satisfying morning observing the locals on their Sunday morning. The beach is popular with people from the cities too. They come in their cars. The fishermen get to sell their fish fresh from the ocean.
It’s a shower and short rest before Andi arrives and offers to take me up into the mountains to his village. It’s high up and a struggle for his little bike. Andi teaches sport at his local elementary school. He gets paid the equivalent of $10 per three months! Unbelievable. They teach six days per week with just Sunday off so he finds tourists to take to his village for extra cash. His cousin (he describes her as his sister) is a physics teacher at mid-school and she gets paid the same. Andi takes me around his village to meet his extended family and introduces me to his culture. They are farmers here tending gardens of corn and other things on the sides of steep mountain slopes. There are children of all ages everywhere and I’m a bit of a novelty despite the number of tourists Andi has brought up here. I feel so intrusive taking photos but Andi encourages me to do so. Most oblige but some don’t, which is fine. I explain to Andi if I was them I wouldn’t want my photo taken either. He explains that Indonesians are jealous of our noses and our skin! Wow. I’m jealous of their looks and their skin. How crazy.
People of Flores bury their deceased family in crypts next to the houses. Some of the crypts date hundreds of years Andi says. There are many small graves for children dying very young. These crypts are part of the family furniture. Children play on them, elders sit and chat. It’s like the dead are still part of family life. I explain to Andi how we treat the dead in Australia, some cremated and some buried. He’s in a family of three but his two older sisters have died already from sickness. He doesn’t know what the sickness was. He invites me to his home for coffee, made by his cousin. Country and western music is blaring. They prefer Western music to Indonesian for a reason I don’t understand.
The views from his village are spectacular. We’re up about 1000m I’m guessing and it’s cool and clear. Thunderstorms fill the background.
Back at my bungalow Ricky tells me the local restaurant is normally closed on Sunday but they would be happy to serve me. The doors were shut but a young girl scurried to find the owner. She opened the doors for me and I chose nasi ayam goreng because I had it last night and it was delicious. I thought they would have chicken in the fridge somewhere but going from the flurry of desperate chicken noises out the back, there is slaughtering happening at this moment…for me! Now I feel I’m imposing. Why didn’t I just ask for fried rice?
angusmccoll 
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