If there was a moment in those 275 days of backpacking I came to realize I had changed as a backpacker was when I arrived at Labuan Bajo, the westernmost tip of Flores. Months before, I heard of a very convenient and cheap option to explore the region, a 3-day boat that would connect this island to another, Lombok, making several stops along the way to explore the highlights, namely, Pink Beach, Padar and Komodo.
Despite having signed up a while back and finding myself walking towards the tour office to officialise the booking by making the final payment, I simply couldn’t shake off this feeling I was signing up for a plan I would regret. While I would have gladly joined in the first months in Southeast Asia, the stamina & vigour to endure this boat journey weren’t there anymore.
An open deck with thin mattrasses laid on the floor where 40 passengers would sleep lulled by the breeze of the ocean (if we were lucky and a storm didn’t surprise us, inundating the entire area)? A basic toilet with no shower for anyone on board? No chairs or allocated place to relax on the boat? These basic conditions were supposedly compensated with snorkelling, the possibility of spotting whale sharks, island hopping and a “conducive” space (or lack thereof) to befriend other travellers.
But all I could think was: how am I supposed to enjoy myself if I probably won’t get one good night of sleep, either because the mattress doesn’t effectively cushion the hard floor, or someone in such a big group will snore, or the sound of the loud engine might keep us awake all night? What about alone time to recharge from all the social interactions and activities?
Maybe it’s no surprise that after months staying at hostels, mostly in shared dorms, my adaptability & resiliency had worn out. I became less spontaneous and driven by the promise of connection, weighting these against comfort and predictability in my environment, and a sense of agency to carve out alone time or cancel a plan if needed.
I reached the office but kept on walking to a close-by restaurant. I needed to sit down and think it through. My intuition was warning me for days, urging me investigate why a certain resistance was present to begin with. Perhaps I simply wasn’t the same Sofia in terms of wants and needs?
I longed for adventure, as long as I could retreat to my space at the end of the day. I looked for connection, as long as I could exit the interaction and nurture my introvert self. I was open to try new things, as long as I could opt-out if I didn’t enjoy them. So, I could hope for the best, or I could be realistic, embracing this newly acknowledged duality, and take my time, finding a new, last-minute tour operator.
And then availability of choice made matters challenging! There were tens of thousands of agencies and intermediaries with a variety of programmes, from day trips in speed boats to several day itineraries in sailing boats, and the conditions varied greatly. I don’t know about you but often, when picking a tour, I go about it as if there is a right choice and spend hours comparing prices, reading reviews, taking note of the smaller letters in the “terms and conditions”, to be sure that I did everything I could to have a good experience.
Eventually, I went for a two-day trip in a tiny boat that docked at a village in a nearly deserted island where we would stay overnight, before rounding up the tour at Komodo National Park. The group consisted of just 12 friendly people plus the crew. We were one of the slowest boats, granted, but we could contemplate the landscape for longer – dry and brownish at that time of the year, there was beauty in the contrast with the turquoise water and the rosy sand, in an otherwise verdant coast during the rainy season. The highlight of the tour was, of course, the Komodo Island, with baby dragons promptly climbing trees for protection from predators, and its more imponent parents – these lizards may disguise you, ancient in shape and slow in movement; yet they are gifted with incredible agility and speed when hunting or delimiting territory. And regardless of the warnings to keep a safe distance, many tourists dared to go recklessly close just for a picture worthy of a social media post.
As we were preparing for a nap on our long way back, we were surprised by the “birds” of the ocean – majestic manta rays whose itinerary coincided with ours briefly for a breath-taking encounter. Known for their friendliness and for swimming very close to divers, perhaps sharing our curiosity, they leave you feeling both fascinated and startled. Their anatomy is overpowering, with giant oval mounts delimited by cephalic fins, and thin pectoral gills that filter the ocean water; when swimming towards us, insignificant and vulnerable floating creatures, it seemed they could swallow us whole, and we almost forgot they only eat plankton…
photo gallery
