4:22

It's currently 8:22. I stepped off the prop jet in Labuan Bajo at about 4. This, THIS town is finally it.  Tiny. Remote. Gorgeous. Unpolished. Self assured. Love at first sight. 

Getting from the plane to the terminal involved waking out on the tarmac (fairly standard) but then through an active construction site (huh), winding up a concrete ramp with no railing or signage, scootching between a fence and the back of the terminal, and in through a door by the baggage conveyors. The terminal itself? Brand spanking new and quite stylish. Looks like the town is preparing, but not quite ready, for a serious tourist onslaught. I'm a bit skeptical about whether that's actually coming, but at least there will be a shiny new airport sometime soonish. 

Our hotel is also under construction, a buzz of saws and hammers amid bamboo scaffolding. After dropping our bags, we headed out to explore the town's single commercial strip and confirm transport out to the island resort where we'll spend the next four nights. 

So the first time we poked into the in-town office of this resort, the door was unlocked and open sign out, but nobody in sight.  Witnessing out predicament, a friendly passerby came in and walked past the counter to rap loudly on the door at the back leading to living quarters. Must be sleeping, he shrugged. We let the shopkeeper rest and walked down to check out the mosque at the end of the street.

Try two at the shop, I ventured back to knock and shout yoohoo.  Finally I heard a shower shut off and a startled naked man said hello. The guy came to the counter a few seconds later dripping wet in a towel so skimpy he was showing a V of thigh to the waist. In fairly limited English, he said he knew nothing about our boat to the island and gave us a number to call. Back at our hotel, the number was a bust - it didn't even have the right number of digits. Third time, the guy was fully clothed in a t-shirt adorned with a Komodo dragon, and he called on his cell to connect us with the home office. They'll be picking us up at our hotel at noon tomorrow. No problem. 

Then we wandered down to the docks. It's clearly a working port, with respectable piles of shipping containers and smallish boats of all sorts docked along the piers. Saw a trio of local girls gigglingly taking photos of each other in front of a flowering bush. Tourists disembarking after a dive. Teenagers playing a hard fought soccer match on a dirt field. Guys on motorbikes taking smoke breaks. 

At sunset we sat on the balcony of our little "boutique" hotel with cold Bintang beers and watched the sky and water light up lavender. The call to prayer from the local mosque filled the air with a melodic male voice.  We discussed religion and youth and the patterns on the surface of the still harbor and how deeply lucky we feel to be able to travel to such places. 

Not All Things are Profound

At least half the fun of traveling comes from the random new tastes sounds and sights. 

New fruit! Mysterious salak, like a fig covered in snake skin, the three inner lobes have the crunch  of juicy carrots and the tang of pineapple. I keep eating, but I still can't quite wrap my mind around them. I'm sure that I love them, though! Sadly they seem confined to a few Indonesian and Malaysian islands. And milk fruit on the side of the road visiting Cambodian ruins, it's purple and white flesh tastier for the eyes than tongue.  And a return to my sweet shiny yellow love, jackfruit, reminiscent of Fruit Loops in the best possible way (which I promise is way better than you think). And mangosteen, many different varieties of tiny sweet banana, passion fruit, pineapple, and on and on. 

Listening to two Balinese men with guitars in a cafe decorated with Mucha prints and dreamcatchers while sipping hot water steeped with slices of fresh ginger and stalks of lemongrass and honey. 

A red bean ice cream sandwich shaped like a fish. And chewy corn flavored milk candies. And home made bagels and convincing burritos  in Bali. And an airport meal of tofu and tempeh with sweet soy sauce.  

Learning that Cambodia seems to operate on the U.S. Dollar, which is what the ATMs dispense and how everything is priced (local currency used for change, 1000 bill = 25 cents). And watching people in a Thai parking garage roll out of the way the car parked behind them and left in neutral to to maximize space. And learning to pronounce the j in Labuan Bajo, where we will be departing to shortly, our jumping off point for exploring Komodo National Park. There be dragons. . . 

Speedboat to 2015

The planks over the sloshing water on the bottom of this boat bend under my weight when I try to climb back to give the hyperventilating German teenager room to sit. She's been visibly distressed since 25 of us scrambled aboard a different wooden boat 45 minutes ago, the deck pitching violently in the waves. And now, after a splashy 20 min ride to moor against a speed boat where we are swapping out half our passengers, a short float over to this more decrepit boat, and half an hour of bobbing in the waves, she has descended into full on tears and shaking knees. Why did her seemingly very nice family drag their aquaphobic daughter to this paradise of tiny islands in the Andaman Sea. Someone empties out a plastic bag of seashells and give it to her to breath in and out of. I'm pretty sure that works better with a paper bag.

We had booked a speed boat to Koh Lanta, not a couple of hours marooned on a floating jalopy with happy snorkelers paddling nearby, but when on an adventure, this is all part of the fun.

Yesterday we were the ones laying serenely face down and staring at tropical wonders through snorkel masks. Cuttlefish and Nemo-fish. A profusion of live coral - waving and grassy, undulating midnight blue lips that contracted into themselves when I dove down near, tangles of stags horns and shelves like mushrooms on a rotting log. Fish with all manner of stripes and polka dots and electric blue fins and needle noses and tendrils rising from their backs. 

I've now been lifted aboard the 45 passenger speed boat we booked (I think) by two Thai boatmen who I easily outweigh combined. I caught a smile flit across the lips of the poor German girl before we started moving, only to be followed by one last bout of fetal shaking, finally put to rest by a studly yet kind stranger engaging her in conversation. She was not the only one relieved. 

2014 brought more satisfying highs, prolonged lows, and Major Life Events than I have experienced in a long while. On balance, I am more than happy to sacrifice the year's last 15 hours to the international date line and kickoff 2015. No arguing that last year ended on an idyllic note, though. Morning swim through 80 meter sea cave to reach a beachy grotto aptly described as Emerald Cave. A seemingly delightful Thai woman digging her elbows into my spine, feet into my thighs, knees into my buttocks, fingers into my eye sockets. A round of Citadels with people at the loving core of my life. All in a tropical paradise.

And I have a great feeling about 2015. At sunset on the 1st, the sea cradled me under sky and cliff and moon, the last light of this new year iridescent on the ripples.