Hoping For Paradise - Kei Islands

I had built up the Kei Islands (pronounced like the letter K) in my mind, so I really hoped they wouldn't disappoint. On the flight over, I had a talkative seatmate who, despite the obvious language difficulties, continued to speak to me about who knows what for the entire flight, as I just hoped to get a little silence and perhaps a quick nap, as my head was spinning by the end of the flight, trying to follow along with the tiny bit of Indonesian that I've learned. Soon enough, the short flight was almost over, and we passed over the first of the two major islands of the Keis. Covered in green foliage and brush, the island showed great potential, revealing only one tiny dirt road and a few coves with what looked like nice beaches from the air. We walked out of the small plane onto the runway of the tiny airport, consisting of one small room about the size of a house. In the front of the room, there was a small hole in the wall with closed shutters that turned out to be the baggage claim area, where the workers just passed the bags through the hole and passengers pushed their way to the front when their bag magically appeared. Not too high tech, but it works for a place like that, adding to the charm. I had arrived in the city of Langgur, which along with Tual, its sister city, are the capitals of the islands and home to the airport and harbor. Just outside, I found a few 'taxi' drivers waiting around the parking lot, claiming that they'd charge anywhere from $20 to $35 to take me across the island to my intended destination. I knew the fair price for a taxi was far less than that, and that a motorcycle taxi/ojek should be even cheaper, so I bargained and bargained, but they wouldn't come down low enough. Frustrated, I gave up and just started walking into Langgur, thinking that I'd either find another option or just stay the night there, since it was already very late in the afternoon. Only a minute or two into my trek, a motorcycle taxi came flying up, and I agreed to the inflated price of $5 to get across the island, though I knew the locals would probably only pay $2 or 3.

I hopped on the back of the scooter, handing my small bag to the driver to put between his legs and still wearing my big backpack. Things started off ok, but soon it was apparent that this scooter wasn't really big enough for both of us. Leaning forward to prevent my heavy backpack from pulling me off the back of the bike, I tried to hold on, eventually finding a spot to position my hands to prop myself up and try to hang on, though every hill pushed me further and further back on the end of the seat. We made our way through the paved roads of the main town and off to a bumpy, dusty road through the dry brush and trees, finally coming back to bits of pavement just in time for some steep climbs, heading directly into the sunset. I held on tightly and we finally found the small town of Ngur Bloat on the West coast of the island, meaning that I just had to find my hotel, and I'd be ok for the night. We turned off the main road and onto a tiny dirt road running parallel to the beach, fulls of bumps and roots from the surrounding trees. The driver wasn't familiar with the place I had found recommended by an adventurous European traveler who is an expert on the region, so we stopped at a few huts, asking around. The first woman claimed that her place was the one I was searching for, though she eventually admitted it wasn't once I asked why the sign had a different name. Luckily, my place was just next door, so I hopped off the back of the bike, happy to have made it without falling off and met Mr. Beny, the friendly, hospitable owner of my hotel - Penginapan Delima.

The beach here is simply called Pasir Panjang, meaning Long Beach, and it's well known as the best beach in the region, though accommodation is scarce, so I had only a choice between a place recommended in my book (meaning that the few travelers in the area would flock to that spot) or one of two karaoke bars that featured a tiny guesthouse on the side, and after I met Mr. Beny, I felt I had made the right choice. The small karaoke bar was just closing up for the night (it was a Sunday), and Beny assured me that they were only open on the weekends and would not open while a guest was staying with him. That seemed a little odd to me, but I trusted him and walked up the steps to the adjacent wooden house, featuring a long patio and three tiny rooms lined up side by side, along with a bathroom at the end of the building. It was nothing special, just a bed, mosquito net and a fan, but it seemed perfect. And for $6 a night, I wasn't really expecting anything luxurious.

Though the sun had already set, and it was quickly getting dark, I wanted to get a peek at the beach with the last bits of remaining light. It was only about 100 yards from my door to the beach, and as I walked through the rows of palm trees, a huge swath of white sand appeared in front of me, stretching for as far as I could see in both directions. Obviously I couldn't judge the beach just yet, but so far, things were shaping up pretty well. Just minutes after walking onto the beach, a group of local teenagers spotted me and ran over to talk to me and take a few pictures, a pretty good sign that foreigners aren't a common sight here. My accommodation also included home-cooked meals, so I had a simple meal of rice, instant noodles and hard boiled eggs, though Beny promised me that he'd go to the market the next day to get some fish, since they weren't expecting visitors. When I signed the guest book, I saw that I was his first visitor in about two months, so that tells you how isolated this place really is.

The next morning, I excitedly got ready and ran out to the beach. I was expecting something special, and I was still blown away. Towering green palm trees lined the beach, and the shadows of the morning were just fading away, revealing a perfectly pure white sand beach that is nearly three miles long. The most impressive part is the actual feel of the sand, literally soft as flour, made up of fine, tiny particles. This, along with Whitehaven Beach in Australia which claims the title, was literally the softest beach that I had ever felt. In addition to finding the perfect beach, the fact that I could only see two locals and no tourists in any direction made it that much better, truly giving it the isolated feel that I always long for in idyllic beaches. So I claimed one of the thatched pondoks (huts) nestled among the base of the huge palm trees and laid back to relax, content with my spot for the next week or so.

That day I took a stroll along the entire length of the beach during the middle of the day, finding that there were indeed three other foreigners on the entire 2 mile stretch, staying at the hotel listed in the guidebook. Other than that, I passed some curious children playing in the sand, attracting a whole lot of attention and shouts of "Hello, meeeesterrrrrr," a few local fishermen and a small group of guys playing soccer just off the side of the beach...and that was it...on a 2 mile beach. This is what I was expecting, yet I couldn't believe I had actually found a place like this. Later in the evening, from the relative comfort of my pondok, I watched the sunset over the horizon, ending a beautiful day in what would be an incredible week in paradise. Just after sunset, I had a few more inquisitive visitors, this time a group of three 30-50 year old women who all wanted to talk and take their picture with me. One wanted to marry me, but I politely declined, and they were eventually on their way, claiming they'd be back tomorrow, though I sort of hoped they wouldn't.

With my second day, I hired a motorcycle taxi (one of Beny's friends) and headed back into Langgur, where I needed to find an internet cafe and was hoping to find a tourist t-shirt of the islands, though both of these proved to be trying tasks. The twin towns of Langgur and Tual are separated by an inlet, and the real difference between the small towns is that Tual is Muslim and Langgur is Christian, though neither one offered much of any interesting sights, so this was mostly just a mission to the city and back. As I found out, basically, Kei Islands shirts don't exist, though my driver and I wandered through various stores and markets, finding imitation Polo, Armani, Tommy Hilfiger, etc shirts, but nothing that I was looking for. Giving up on that, we asked around for an internet cafe, so that I could check in and research a few things, taking us about 30 minutes to find one of the two places to use the internet in the city. Back on the bike to Pasir Panjang, I was happy to be a little more comfortable on this ride, not fearing falling off the back, getting back just in time to enjoy another sunset. After hearing about our adventure trying to find a shirt, Mr. Beny went home and brought me a shirt of his own that actually does say Pasir Panjang and Ngur Bloat on it...an incredibly nice gesture, though the slightly small 70s polo style wasn't quite the look I wanted. Even so, I was touched by the gesture.

(The rudimentary baggage claim system at the tiny airport of Langgur. On the way out, the metal detector was broken, so the officials just felt my backpack, apparently able to discern weapons or bombs with just the touch of a bag.)

(My first night on Pasir Panjang. These local kids immediately came up to me and wanted to practice their English and take a few pictures with me. The fact that I was such a celebrity there was a good sign, meaning that there would be few other tourists around.)

(In the morning, my first view of the beach was a good one.)

(Here is the patio where I had all of my meals on that small table, and my tiny room with just a bed, fan and mosquito net is just through that door on the left. The bathroom was just around the corner, and that was about it.)

(Looking North at Pasir Panjang. As you can see, the beach is pretty amazing and also amazingly empty.)

(Near the South end of the beach, just before the dirt track into the town of Ngur Bloat, these massive palm trees curve over the water, creating a nice little scene.)

(Venturing South past the end of the beach, I walked along the coral and rocks and found a small island off the coast, calling my name. I didn't know when, but I knew I'd have to go check it out.)

(With not too much to do on the beach, I strolled up and down the 2 mile stretch a few times, finding the extreme North end with a few rocky outcrops and also no people. This area is mostly covered in water during high tide.)

(One of the local soccer players, running back to his position as goalkeeper after taunting the other goalie after letting in a really bad goal.)

(The North side had less palm trees and a slightly narrower stretch of beach at the tip, so I was happy that my karaoke shack/hotel was on the South side.)

(A few locals getting together for a volleyball match, along with their tiny canoes.)

(One of the many enjoyable sunsets as seen from my stretch of beach.)

(Just after sunset, we had a few days with some good colors, though it wasn't quite as nice as some Hawaiian sunsets that I've seen courtesy of Paul's pictures. I guess you can't have everything.)

(One of my delicious dinners. Bananas, chili sauce, a whole fish, rice, some exotic vegetables, eggs and more. By the end of the week on the island, I became pretty good at pulling apart a fish, separating the skin and the bones from the meat, and I actually started enjoying fish much more than I had before. And yes, this was all set out just for me.)

(Just lounging in one of my two pondoks/thatched huts. This little bit of foliage proved to be helpful right before sunset, blocking the sun from shining in my face. Again, such a tough life.)

(That's my tiny wooden room with two small windows and the mosquito net hanging above the bed that I would tuck in around the mattress at night. Luckily it was dry season, so mosquitoes weren't much of a problem, but the net was still helpful since there were one or two around who would inevitably find you during the night in a place like this.)