As my boss is fond of stating; living in Repi is like dropping out of time and space. I don’t usually consider these words to apply to myself. Until I remove myself from my cabin on the cliff and have people still asking me if I have dengue. With that comes the realization that since I moved into my village, I have not been keeping you all updated with the going ons.
It’s not that I don’t want to. It’s just that, well, my boss is right. I feel like I have dropped out of time and space. Every day is filled with adventures, work, and an abundant amount of ridiculous situations. I find it impossible to remember all of these things, let alone the highlights. I try writing a recap of the day every evening but it’s not as easy as I would hope. I am so exhausted by the end of each day that even thinking about how to write what happened is sometimes too much of a task to complete.
For the last two weeks I have had two friends from the states living with me and doing some work trade. It has been wonderful to spend time with people that I am close with and speak fluently with. It’s also been a really good reminder that where I am living is special, fun, strange, and full of good stories that are going untold. Fortunately they are here for another two weeks helping make memories and build my home.
The three of us have been packing in all the fun and adventures we can manage before passing out with exhaustion every night. We have spent the last week driving around Flores. We have visited many beaches, friends, and mountains. We have seen some beautiful landscapes and met some wonderful people. The one activity that was really special though was our trek to Wae Rebo.
If you’ve read my blog at all, you’ll know that I’m living with the Manggarai people. Manggarai people only live on the island of Flores. There are about 4 different dialects of Manggarai and 3 different districts. I live in the Central Manggarai district. All the families in this district have trickled down over the years from a village named Wae Rebo.
Wae Rebo is nestled high up in the mountainous jungles. It cannot be reached by motor vehicle, only by trekking. About 10 years ago it was rebuilt by some hopeful folks from the area to renew the dying culture of the Manggarai. Their hard work paid off and it is now a heavily visited tourist location while still enabling them to maintain their local culture. As far as tourist attractions go, this has been one of the most satisfying places I’ve ever visited.
The natural beauty of the mountain is astounding. The drastic temperature and flora changes are blatant and brilliant. It’s about a 6km hike straight up a mountain with some switchbacks, rivers, rocks, and fallen coffee trees in your way. Upon arrival you crest the hill and see the 7 enormous, dollhouse looking structures nestled in the cloud cover. Growing around you is vanilla beans, coffee, taro, and corn. The steep hills are covered in agriculture and there are adults walking around in their traditional sarongs doing their daily chores with nothing but smiles.
Before descending into the village, you shake a bamboo drum to alert the village below that visitors are on their way. Then you trek through the houses into the main compound. Walking up the rock stairs into the largest house feels like a dream. Everything is so immense, green, and real. From the distance it all looked like a toy set. Up close, it’s magical.
You enter the house and the resident elder performs a ceremony speaking to her ancestors asking them to please accept the newly arrived guests as family and to not disturb our stay on the mountain top. Fortunately I have seen my fair share of these and can speak a little bit of Manggarai so I can understand what she is saying. To those not in the know however, I imagine it to be a riveting experience (it still is for me despite the facts…). Once their chant is through you are welcomed into the guest house to drink coffee that was grown, harvested, fried, and pounded a few feet from where you are sitting. Hands down, the best coffee I’ve had since I’ve been in Indonesia. They are doing something right.
After taking a quick nap to recover from our rugged hike up the mountain we decided to trek down another canyon to check out a waterfall a friend had referred. We followed an even steeper and more narrow trail littered with coffee and taro. It began raining of course, so our guide; Cornelius, made us walking sticks with the token machete all Manggarai men can be seen sporting. We were all very tired and sore from the morning trek and were starting to lose steam as the rain grew heavier. Then at the very bottom of the canyon we arrived at the waterfall. Pictures could never explain the natural beauty of this tropical, boulder cascading water. It was truly worth every sore muscle and all 8 leeches we acquired to get there. Despite the rain we jumped in the freezing cold pool under the water and sat in the pool for as long as we could stand.
I’ve never believed too much in natural healing or wishy washy holistic cures. But leaving that waterfall surely felt refreshing, renewing, and healing. As did the entire stay at Wae Rebo. I left feeling refreshed, enlightened, and pretty stoked on life. Even better, the hike down, was 10x’s less awful than the hike up!
Beyond taking a trip up to this traditional village we drove through endless rice fields, up an down mountains, canyons, and through rivers, stayed with friends on their beach and helped with their yard work. We also stay in a convent and woke to the sound of Indonesian nuns singing in the morning. Explored our way through an underground market full of local goods and friendly people and navigated many questionable routes. It’s been a long week, it’s been an even longer 5 months.
Where the time has gone I’m not sure. But not a moment of it has been boring. And it just keeps getting better!
It’s not that I don’t want to. It’s just that, well, my boss is right. I feel like I have dropped out of time and space. Every day is filled with adventures, work, and an abundant amount of ridiculous situations. I find it impossible to remember all of these things, let alone the highlights. I try writing a recap of the day every evening but it’s not as easy as I would hope. I am so exhausted by the end of each day that even thinking about how to write what happened is sometimes too much of a task to complete.
For the last two weeks I have had two friends from the states living with me and doing some work trade. It has been wonderful to spend time with people that I am close with and speak fluently with. It’s also been a really good reminder that where I am living is special, fun, strange, and full of good stories that are going untold. Fortunately they are here for another two weeks helping make memories and build my home.
The three of us have been packing in all the fun and adventures we can manage before passing out with exhaustion every night. We have spent the last week driving around Flores. We have visited many beaches, friends, and mountains. We have seen some beautiful landscapes and met some wonderful people. The one activity that was really special though was our trek to Wae Rebo.
If you’ve read my blog at all, you’ll know that I’m living with the Manggarai people. Manggarai people only live on the island of Flores. There are about 4 different dialects of Manggarai and 3 different districts. I live in the Central Manggarai district. All the families in this district have trickled down over the years from a village named Wae Rebo.
Wae Rebo is nestled high up in the mountainous jungles. It cannot be reached by motor vehicle, only by trekking. About 10 years ago it was rebuilt by some hopeful folks from the area to renew the dying culture of the Manggarai. Their hard work paid off and it is now a heavily visited tourist location while still enabling them to maintain their local culture. As far as tourist attractions go, this has been one of the most satisfying places I’ve ever visited.
The natural beauty of the mountain is astounding. The drastic temperature and flora changes are blatant and brilliant. It’s about a 6km hike straight up a mountain with some switchbacks, rivers, rocks, and fallen coffee trees in your way. Upon arrival you crest the hill and see the 7 enormous, dollhouse looking structures nestled in the cloud cover. Growing around you is vanilla beans, coffee, taro, and corn. The steep hills are covered in agriculture and there are adults walking around in their traditional sarongs doing their daily chores with nothing but smiles.
Before descending into the village, you shake a bamboo drum to alert the village below that visitors are on their way. Then you trek through the houses into the main compound. Walking up the rock stairs into the largest house feels like a dream. Everything is so immense, green, and real. From the distance it all looked like a toy set. Up close, it’s magical.
You enter the house and the resident elder performs a ceremony speaking to her ancestors asking them to please accept the newly arrived guests as family and to not disturb our stay on the mountain top. Fortunately I have seen my fair share of these and can speak a little bit of Manggarai so I can understand what she is saying. To those not in the know however, I imagine it to be a riveting experience (it still is for me despite the facts…). Once their chant is through you are welcomed into the guest house to drink coffee that was grown, harvested, fried, and pounded a few feet from where you are sitting. Hands down, the best coffee I’ve had since I’ve been in Indonesia. They are doing something right.
After taking a quick nap to recover from our rugged hike up the mountain we decided to trek down another canyon to check out a waterfall a friend had referred. We followed an even steeper and more narrow trail littered with coffee and taro. It began raining of course, so our guide; Cornelius, made us walking sticks with the token machete all Manggarai men can be seen sporting. We were all very tired and sore from the morning trek and were starting to lose steam as the rain grew heavier. Then at the very bottom of the canyon we arrived at the waterfall. Pictures could never explain the natural beauty of this tropical, boulder cascading water. It was truly worth every sore muscle and all 8 leeches we acquired to get there. Despite the rain we jumped in the freezing cold pool under the water and sat in the pool for as long as we could stand.
I’ve never believed too much in natural healing or wishy washy holistic cures. But leaving that waterfall surely felt refreshing, renewing, and healing. As did the entire stay at Wae Rebo. I left feeling refreshed, enlightened, and pretty stoked on life. Even better, the hike down, was 10x’s less awful than the hike up!
Beyond taking a trip up to this traditional village we drove through endless rice fields, up an down mountains, canyons, and through rivers, stayed with friends on their beach and helped with their yard work. We also stay in a convent and woke to the sound of Indonesian nuns singing in the morning. Explored our way through an underground market full of local goods and friendly people and navigated many questionable routes. It’s been a long week, it’s been an even longer 5 months.
Where the time has gone I’m not sure. But not a moment of it has been boring. And it just keeps getting better!