Living like the locals

We've all heard the horror stories of “that” bus ride that each traveler has. The stories can come from all over the world, but regardless of which country said bus ride was endured, the trip is normally jam packed with, well, jam packed buses. Be it loads of luggage or people, crazy, miserable and messy bus rides are something all travelers will experience at some point while they are abroad.

After taking a nice and (relatively) cushy shuttle bus from Labaun Bajo to Bajawa in Flores, Indonesia, I decided it was time to hop cities. I had spent a few days in Bajawa, but I had heard that Riung in the northwestern region of Flores was great. The city was the jumping off point to the 17 Island National Marine Park (which is actually home to 21 islands) and seemed like a great destination for any traveler. As I watched my travel mates hop in cars or cushy tourist buses to the nearby Ende, I waited as the only bus, the local bus, made its way to my hotel. This, of course, was delayed and set the tone for the entire trip.

To start of our journey, the bus arrived late from Riung, so its departure back to the town was of course delayed. The hour or so set-back didn't bother me, though. This is part of traveling. As it pulled up, the daunting, fading maroon beast was already filled to the brim with passengers and cargo (so I thought) and I found myself squeezed in the back between four other passengers, with a bag of rice under my feet, and literally, live chickens on top of them. My white face stood out, as I was the only non-local, and my inability to speak Indonesian left me in a silly spot.  Before I could pass my bag up to the guys loading the bus, though, it seemed as if we were off. This was a misconception.

While the bus did leave my hotel, what I wasn't aware of was that there was a somewhat endless list of errands needed to be done before the bus took off. From picking up supplies, to what appeared to be the bus driver just having conversations with people on the street,  it took us nearly two hours to leave a village that wasn't even a mile long. Circles and zig-zags around the village gave me an uncomfortable (and under-appreciated  tour of the greater Bajawa area. Finally, around 3 p.m. we were headed toward our destination.  

While I assumed leaving the village meant heading on our way, the rest of the journey continued in the same manner: Stopping at bazaars, people’s houses, random arak (local rice wine) stands and anywhere else passengers and drivers saw fit. This culminated in a stop at a fruit stand were an elderly lady became tired of passing her bags of fruit through the window, and decided to join us the rest of the way. With her giant bag of fruit laid on my lap, the lady moved quicker than a world class sprinters, tossing individual bags up and down the rows of the bus. On top of that, she continued to chew betel nut, spit the juice out the window (poorly), and tell jokes that had the entire bus dying. While I couldn't understand her, nor did I enjoy the extra kilos on top of me, the entire occurrence was a spectacle in itself.

Along with stops and passenger pick-ups, the road to Riung became more narrow as time passed, and at one point the lovely sunflowers lining the road were actually smacking those in window seats in the face. Rain came in through all the crevices in walls, leaving all our items, as well as our persons, soaked. The word “road,” is used loosely while describing the bumpy, windy and at times non-existent stretch of…well something that links the two towns. At multiple points, I swore the entire bus was airborne. Alas, after seven hours, the less than 100km to Riung were covered, and I was dropped at my hotel’s doors safe, sound and soaked.

While it wasn't the most comfortable ride I've ever taken, the local bus from Bajawa to Riung gave me a true look at the day-to-day lives of those who reside on Flores. While I think I’ll do my best to avoid the local bus from now on, I can’t say that I’m upset about the experience. One thing is for sure, though, I don’t think I’ll ever complain about public transportation again back home.

Photo courtesy of National Geographic and Flores Explore