Maumere, Flores.

Part 1: Getting There

We motor to another deserted tropical island to snorkel in pristine water and explore white sand beaches. Someone’s image of paradise, or perhaps their antidote to cold winters and too much work. I enjoy the beauty and the amazing colors of the ocean wildlife, and treasure time with my daughter. But the tourism photos fail to communicate the constant humidity and deafening diesel engine that sits a meter from my head. It drones on at an unbelievable volume, having been liberated of its muffler to explode a belly full of fuel with unrestrained force. The holes in the sides of my head are stuffed with insulating foam to deafen the air vibrations that shake my whole body, my own personal muffler.

Paloma and I chose two more days of Flores over an early return to Bali to reunite with Rachel and Anika. Our program shimmered with possibilities of snorkeling, a relaxing afternoon on a beach, a trip to a local fishing village and elementary school, and dinner at the home of our guide, whose brother will teach us how to cook Indonesians style. Nostalgia is my friend and I’m sure I will remember the hue of the crystal waters over the shaking of the truck engine that drives this boat, reliving selective memories through photographs. And I will treasure another visit to local children to see how their days are in some ways the same, and in other ways so very different from our own. At very least we will be grateful for those things we have — as Paloma said to me today, we feel more grateful for things when we live without them for a little while.

Part Two: The Reef and the Sand Bar

When airline companies sell you a plane ticket, they don’t show you a photo of your seat on the airplane. Or the airport. Almost nobody likes those places. They show you the picture of the tropical island. It’s the experience you are paying for.

Yesterday was the best snorkeling of my life. A sunken atoll encirlcled the deep-sea beneath our now-quiet fishing boat, creating a pristine caldera for millions of fishes and corals to live upon. I always loved gazing at tropical aquariums as a child, and now I was inside all of them put together, with surprises around every turn. Did you know corals sway in the breezes of the ocean currents? Did you know sea stars come in bright blue, and sometimes have 4 arms? At only a couple of meters deep, all the colors of the reef glistened in front of us.

After exploring the richness of the reef we broke for a trip to the sand bar. Beneath the aquamarine waters rested a submerged spit a half km long with a lone mangrove tree decorating it, the elevation of its leaves indicating that we had several more hours until high tide. “Dad, take artsy photos!” she commanded, so I grabbed Paloma’s camera, walked out to the tree and got down low. I took too many pictures while I squinted in the sunlight at my happy daughter who got her “Instagram worthy” evidence of far-flung adventures.

My tummy is not 100% today. Rocket Flores, they call it – their version of Bali belly, Indonesia’s take on Delhi belly. But I’m glad we stayed. Glad we got on that fishing boat, and glad we visited that reef and that sand bar. And I am looking forward to the things we will discover today. What discomforts will we suffer? And what memories will we keep?