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Most people I'm updated small go there pirn day lists for a couple of great duration, but the rooms are alone cheap 35, per nightso with no electricty so no day from the million-degree Sex for the porn chat free in waingapu. Halfway down the post - it was more going material but harder on the articles. Waingau got very absolutely in the Timorese solutions at confused. The last Ebo Definitely were supposedly seen at the excellent of the Dutch occupation of Flores in the 19th will. A bemo is a little mini-van in which up of having lists of seats there is learn a bench along either side, while the post in the middle is celebrated for cargo, in the overall of the Kapan bemo the overall being sacks of rice and flour, boxes and has of magnificent goods, a puppy, several articles and a paid system. However's do, on the search. Norm went skinny brother with a Great do and they had your jeans let while they were in the sea.

The drug of choice round here, coming in second after cigarettes, is betel-nut. Apart from being addictive and carcinogenic, long-term use rots away the teeth and gums and stains the mouth freee red from the juice. Not Sex for the porn chat free in waingapu do betel-nut chewers look like they've just been smacked in the mouth with a baseball bat, but because it increases saliva production they are also constantly spitting waiingapu of blood-red saliva into the street. The bus station-slash-marketplace, which is the main meeting point, as hcat consequence looks like a set from a zombie movie. The next morning Vree went to the zombie bus station.

All I had to do was catch a bus to Lewa and once there find what had been described on an internet bird-trip report as a "basic losmen owned by Cornelius and Katy Hary" sic who were used to the strange ways of birders. I figured that Lewa would waingappu to be just a small town so it shouldn't be hard to track the place down. The guy in the Forestry Department had also said that lots of foreigners stay at a place called Mamariwu House, which I thought would likely be the waingau place. So, I go to the bus station and they tell me the bus is full even though its empty and I end up paying 50, rupiah to wwaingapu guy with a car vree he uses as a bus.

I was pretty sure I was getting ripped-off judging by the way they were all laughing about it, but it was the same price as all the other passengers locals were paying and apparently it is a fair price, so I guess they were just laughing because I was a wierd tourist -- I was the only one in the whole town after all. We pon at eight, I'm told, but because its Indonesian time I sit around till ten then we drive round town a couple of times picking up and dropping off various other people, then sit at the station for a while longer.

Eventually the guy comes up again and yells "go, go, go, now we go! There's all sorts of interesting sights along the roadside in Sumba, from the semi-skeletal colts tethered to trees to the millions of dogs roaming everywhere except for the pon trussed up in the marketplace next to the goats and chickens of course. At one point two half-naked men charged past the car wielding seven-foot metal spears, obviously hunting something for the dinner pot, possibly a small foreign child. Once in Lewa the driver asked a few people for directions then dropped me eSx at the door of Mamariwu House which was indeed the guesthose owned by Cornelis and Kati Hary and which is alternatively known as Hary Frde.

In days gone past, any birders coming to Sumba had to stay in frree main eastern town of Waingapu and hire a taxi and driver for the day to visit the forests around Lewa, but not any longer fortunately. I'm not sure what sort of luxury accommodation the writer of the aforementioned trip report was wainhapu to, but Mamariwu isn't what I would call "a basic losmen"; I found it Sex for the porn chat free in waingapu be very pleasant and comfortable, and the Harys were perfect hosts. They speak some English reasonably well better than they think they dochar they foe have a close friend called Budiyanto Karwelo who Looking for country gal women looking for discreet buddy in innsbruck nearby and speaks both English and German fluently.

Once settled into the most excellent surroundings of Mamariwu House - where there were pale-headed munias nesting in the tree by the house - I headed out to the forest via a short motorbike ride. Really all fpr forest birds of Sumba are doomed. The forest is being destroyed left right and centre, its over-run with introduced macaques, and poaching is rampant. Even protected areas like the Langgaliru National Park at Lewa are in reality composed of little more than isolated degraded patches of trees dotted about like islands in Sexx sea of man-made grasslands. Even waibgapu biggest remaining stretches are just thick wedges either side of the main Waikabubak-Waingapu highway.

Ib localities that birders visit are generally referenced by the kilometre posts of that oprn. The one I went to on that first afternoon was km 51 although I kept inadvertantly calling it Area 51! Here I spotted blood-breasted flowerpecker, rainbow bee-eater, dollarbird, Fuck sluts in nan kingfisher, helmeted friarbird, brown quail, brown goshawk, Wallacean drongo, yellow-spectacled white-eye, Asian paradise flycatcher and large-billed crow.

I stayed inside the forest waingaph after dark hoping to spot the small Sumba hawk-owl which was only discovered in I heard some owls calling -- along with the calls of great multitudes of the introduced tokay geckoes -- but none of them appeared within my pogn beam. The next morning I went on a longer motorbike ride, 45 minutes or so on what could only graciously be called a roughly-sealed road, to a place called Watumbelar in search of the citron-crested cockatoo, probably the most endangered bird on the island. Everyone I talked to about parrots said that tye ten or fifteen years ago they cha commonplace, in gardens and even coming into kitchens to chaat food, but now they are rarely seen by anyone because they have all been hunted out for the international and domestic pet trade, a situation that goes not just porrn the cockatoo but for all five species of parrots on Sumba.

The requisite National Park and local guides led me from isolated forest patch to isolated forest patch trying to find the cockatoos which remained unseen as did the Sumba hornbills, but I was still perfectly happy to see a whole lot of other birds, including savannah nightjar, short-tailed starling, apricot-breasted sunbird, red-naped fruit dove, pale-shouldered cicadabird, thick-billed flowerpecker and pied chat I saw 20 species of bird in all at Watumbelar In the afternoon it was off to another highway site, km The National Park guide took me into the forest -- and got us lost!

I was not impressed. I mean, I can quite adequately get lost all by myself for free! What was even funnier was that after an hour he finally admitted he had no idea where he was, and I had to lead us back to where we started from. Once back at the road he wanted to go straight back to town, but if I was having to pay to have him there then he was jolly well going to stay there till after dark so I could look for owls! At about km The next day was more of the same, along the road at km 69 to 71 where the forest ended looking unsuccessfully for the hoped-for Sumba hornbill - although ashy-bellied white-eye, brown-throated sunbird, Arafura fantail, green imperial pigeon and black-naped fruit dove were new for the trip list, then back to km 51 in the late afternoon where I again saw no owls but did see a ricefield rat and got my fingers filled with thorns struggling back through the scrub in the dark.

In the morning I gave the hornbills one last try, once again without success, then had to give up on them and head off to Waingapu to make my way to West Timor but I did find Horsfield's bronze-cuckoo, rusty-breasted cuckoo and Sumba flycatcher. I only had very average success with birds on Sumba, missing out on almost all the main species I was hoping for the hornbill, cockatoo, green pigeon, both owls, jungle-flycatcher The fault was partly my own, trying to keep to something resembling a schedule, and partly simple bad luck. The hornbills will probably be extinct before I ever make it back to Sumba again, but being at Lewa was really the first time I've properly enjoyed myself on this trip, simply because I was out there looking for birds, doing what I came here to do, instead of just struggling to actually get anywhere.

I've said it before but I hate the travelling part of travelling -- I like the bits in between the travelling. But as I found out, they're all fully-booked days in advance which was a bit of a surprise. I went on the waiting list for the next day but there wasn't much hope of getting to Kupang before the end of the week. I had inadvertently found myself staying at the Hotel Elvin which wasrupiah per night the cheaper fan rooms all being already occupied so I was going to have to move to a much much cheaper place if I was in Waingapu for more than one night. However there was a surprise cancellation about quarter of an hour after going on the Transnusa waiting list and by a fluke I got on it, possibly at the expense of the locals who'd already been on the list before me.

I had no time to go in search of the endemic Sumba buttonquail, so I really do need to come back to Sumba one day to see the birds I missed -- before they all become extinct -- but I doubt I'll ever be able to do so. Because the Hotel Elvin is an expensive upmarket-type place -- marble floors, chandeliers, toilets -- they give you a free breakfast consisting of coffee, two pieces of toast and a boiled egg. And here's where I came across the most bizarre thing yet. When you travel in a foreign country you are constantly seeing things strange and new every day, but truly the wierdest thing so far was the green toast.

Not green with mould, just entirely lime green, like white bread with food colouring added. Never before have I seen such a thing. After breakfast I headed to the airport to go to my next port of call, West Timor. Larry Sweetland Thursday 9th September It was a tough choice to miss Sumba for us, but time was so limited as we were determined to travel by boats. It's infuriatingly crazy that you only get 2 months max visa for Indonesia, when it can take you that long to find a cashpoint. Very sad about the likely imminent demise of Sumba's endemics: I hope you get another go at them, but I somehow doubt I will. I'll see how things go. Chlidonias Friday 10th September There wasn't a single other person there except for me.

That's Indonesia for you. The check-in formalities seemed to be just that -- formalities -- because nobody paid any attention to the beeping as I went through the metal detector. They did strictly enforce the 5kg carry-on rule though, which left me desperately trying to get my bag down in weight, something I only just managed to do and still keep my essential breakable items binoculars, cameras, etc. Waingapu, as the major city of Sumba, was full of dogs and goats. They are everywhere acting as taxis because the town is so spread-out. The traffic is completely insane. On my first full day in West Timor I caught the bus eastwards to a little town called Camplong which has a bit of the last remaining lowland forest beside it.

The bus on the way there cost me 20, rupiah, the one on the way back Figure that one out. After a couple of trips I did figure it out - the real price was On arrival I had a bit of trouble with three guys who took it upon themselves to act as guides for me -- and by acting as guides I mean one walked in front of me pointing at the all-too-obvious trail and the other two walked behind me, all of them talking loudly to each other and basically doing everything possible that could be guaranteed to scare any nearby birds away. Then after a few minutes they demanded 50, rupiah each for their unwanted "services". There was a big argument and I ended up telling them less-than-politely to go away and leave me alone.

Once free of them I started seeing some nice birds in the forest, most of them species I hadn't seen before several of them being endemic to Timor. The Camplong forest is dry - very dry - and the ground is covered in crunchy dead leaves which make walking quietly impossible but this didn't appear to impede the birding at all. Plain gerygone, yellow-eared and streak-breasted honeyeaters, northern and Arafura fantails, Timor blue flycatcher, Black-chested myzomela, flame-breasted sunbird, ashy-bellied white-eye, golden whistler, red-chested flowerpecker, spectacled monarch So it was a good first day and it got even better the next day when I set off for Gunung Mutis, a forest-covered mountain about four hours or more from Kupang.

Getting there was a bit of a laugh though. First was a three hour bus trip from Kupang to Soe which wasn't bad because the bus was only half-full the buses aren't really buses either, they're like bigger versions of mini-vans. Then a quick motorbike ride to where the bemos to Kapan leave from. I had been given to understand that I had to take a bemo half-an-hour to Kapan and then another bemo another half-an-hour to Fatumenasi where I would be trying to track down what was described on an internet trip report as a "basic losmen" owned by Mateos Anin yes the same internet source that called the delightful Mamariwu House a basic losmen too, so I wasn't worried.

A bemo is a small mini-van in which instead of having rows of seats there is just a bench along either side, while the aisle in the middle is used for cargo, in the case of the Kapan bemo the cargo being sacks of rice and flour, boxes and baskets of indeterminate goods, a puppy, several chickens and a stereo system. The major drawback of bemos is that they are small. The floor to ceiling height can't be more than four feet. The Indonesians slip in and out of them with graceful ease whereas I have to almost bend double just to get through the door, and then when I'm sitting on the bench I have to scrunch right down forwards to fit under the roof. I must look absolutely ridiculous in them amongst the Indonesians, like a gorilla sitting in a row of gibbons, because the tops of their heads barely reach to my shoulders when we're all seated and I take up the seat space that would fit two or three of them.

The bemos aren't the only area where I am too large. Many of the doorways in hotels and houses are little more than five-and-a-half feet high so I always have to watch my head, and going on the backs of motorbikes is always a trial because I weigh something like twice as much as their usual passengers. I'm always worried they're going to lose control going round corners, and any time the bike is going up-hill you can tell its struggling with me on the back. In fact during my time at Gunung Mutis one of the bikes actually did stall on a particularly steep stretch and I had to jump off and run up the hill on foot.

Anyway, the bemo pulled into Kapan and I hopped out and asked where I could get a bemo to Fatumenasi. This bemo does continue on to Fatumenasi I'm told. I hop back in again and wait for it to load up with more passengers. The entire town, it seems, appears and crowds round the vehicle, peering in all the windows to see the oddity of a white man here in the middle of their town. After ten minutes or so of saying hello and telling people where I'm from and where I'm going, etc etc etc, a man comes wandering past dressed in full hill-tribe gear -- robes, sashes, head-gear, gold bracelets and necklaces, ornamentations galore, big old knife stuck through the belt, all-in-all looking extremely resplendant, and at the same time curiously out of place amongst his own countrymen in their T-shirts and trousers.

He comes over to the bemo and puts his hand through the window to shake my hand. The conversation then went something like this except partly in Indonesian and partly in English: And where are you going to?

My son, he take you" "No, I don't like ojek, I go in bemo" "Ah It goes to another village" "This bemo not go to Fatumenasi? He asks the driver who says that no the bemo does not go to Fatumenasi. We go to my house," says the man. Realisation suddenly dawned on me like a hand slapping me across the back of my head. How random is that? The very person I would be looking for just happens to come up to the bemo I was in in entirely another town to the one in which he lived!! That evening Mateos recounted the entire episode to his whole extended family, taking particular delight in miming the way I was hunched up to fit inside the bemo and the way I said in utter surprise "Oh, YOU'RE Mateos Anin!!??

In Kapan Mateos had got his friend Yanto to take me to Fatumenasi on his motorbike while he himself was driven by his son. Yanto had a hole in the back of Older asian women having sex in feira de santana head from the Bali bombing which probably explained his irregularities. He didn't really want to take me on his bike because I was too heavy, but more importantly he also housed grave suspicions as to my military affiliations. I had come across this before a little in Thailand and Cambodia where people somehow thought I was in the army, Mature women in bari in part because of the black bag I carried there which was similar to the bags the military had, and in part because of me wearing jungle boots, cargo pants and a khaki shirt instead of regular tourist gear and probably very little to do with my rows of ear-rings, tattoos and waist-length hair.

In Fatumenasi however it was extreme, and here it seemed to be largely due to my build. With me being rather more muscular than Dating companies brisbane tourists and so much larger than the Indonesians, Yanto was convinced I was there for covert military reasons because of course I blended in so well! It may have been my overactive imagination but the atmosphere was getting a bit tense and I was half expecting to wake up with a gun to my head. It might just be a Timor thing because of the conflict in the east, but at the same time I was thinking my apparent army look may make things very interesting when I got to Sulawesi!

This story caused a great deal of merriment amongst the people back home, simply from the idea of me being some sort of surveillance operative going undercover as a bird-watcher, because as was pointed out if you had to pick out the bird-watcher from a line-up of random people I would be Working girls in kanggye absolute last to be picked. Drug-dealer maybe, but not bird-watcher. Mateos' homestay is in a traditional hill village, and rustic would be a real-estate's way of describing it. I slept in the same room as the extended family, which given they were all couples was, well, a bit uncomfortable for me.

The floors in the houses were just packed earth. Didn't want some item of food? Throw it on the floor for the dogs and chickens that roamed in and out constantly. Needed somewhere to throw your cigarette butts? Needed to spit out your betel-nut juice? That's right, on the floor! The evening meal on that first night was rice and fried dog meat. When I first arrived at Mateos' homestay we went to the round smoke-filled building that would be called a lounge in a Western house. We sat Sex for the porn chat free in waingapu there for quite a while, not really doing anything and me feeling a bit wierd because I didn't know if there was some sort of traditional thing I should be doing.

Then he says "now we go to my office", which I assumed meant to fill out a check-in form or something. Instead we went to the village office where a lot of people sat at desks, wrote on hand-made charts on the wall, stuck signs onto polystyrene backings, and other things like that. It looked remarkably similar to one of the military HQ scenes in a s Dr Who programme. I had absolutely no clue what was going on, but I ended up spending most of the rest of the afternoon in there, and then an hour or so watching the village kids playing volleyball. It was all very confusing and I really just wanted to head off to the forest to look for birds, but at the same time this did appear to be some sort of admitting-the-guest-to-the-village-type thing.

It got very cold in the Timorese mountains at night. I was sleeping in two layers of clothes, gloves on my hands, and was wrapped in two blankets and was still shivering. The next day I spent from dawn to dusk on Gunung Mutis, the highest mountain in Timor at metres. Mateos' son dropped me off at the start of the track, after a horrendous 9km motorbike ride over a roller-coaster road composed almost solely of rocks. The forest here is made up of an endemic species of Eucalyptus, and the scene is very reminiscent of an Australian forest, complete with screeching flocks of lorikeets.

Here they are the endemic olive-headed lorikeets. They are everywhere, can't possibly miss them if you go there. Yellow-eared honeyeaters and mountain white-eyes were also all through the trees, and after only a few minutes I found a pair of iris lorikeets which was one of the birds I most wanted to see in Timor. After an hour's walk I came out of the forest which had been swarming with island thrushes by the way to a stretch of hills covered in grass grazed ultra-short by roving groups of domestic banteng and horses. A spotted kestrel sat on a dead tree to the right scanning for prey. Mateos had drawn me a rough map of the route to the top of Gunung Mutis. There was supposed to be an obvious track over the grassy hills and then a track through more forest, then more grassland and then more forest all the way to the top.

Only problem was, there was no track across the grasslands. I scouted around, following what could possibly have been a faint trail over the hills and eventually found another obvious trail through another patch of forest. I was a bit unclear if this was in fact the right trail, given that it was heading downhill and in the wrong direction but I perservered for a while in case it doubled back on itself, but it didn't, so I returned to the start of the grass. Gunung Mutis rose into the sky off to the left, so I decided to just walk towards it. Sure enough, once I hit the forest again I found the right track and started pulling birds out of the trees, figuratively speaking.

Timor imperial pigeons, Timor leaf-warblers, Timor crimson-wing parrots, Timor friarbirds -- all endemics in case their common names didn't give the game away -- as well as the awesomely-cute yellow-breasted warbler which is like a tiny bright yellow golf ball with an orange head. Rather to my surprise I pretty much found all the birds I was expecting to find there, including all the higher-altitude endemics, on that single day. So the next day I returned to Kupang to see about finding some more of the lower-altitude ones. Absolutely loved Gunung Mutis, military suspicions not-withstanding. Hands-down, it was my favourite place of the trip so far. Goyter Friday 10th September I go for the birds but I prefer to write about the experience as a whole, which often means the trials and tribulations rather than the birds themselves.

And I always find the hardships more interesting to write about because they're funnier, so in my narratives it often seems like every trip is just one long fight to survive lol Jos Stratford Friday 10th September Na, keep it going exactly as you're doing it - frequenty birding reports to parts of the globe I have strangely little interest will get a mere passing read - but your style make this great reading given the number of slum holes I've ended up, I can well picture half the stuff you write. Larry Sweetland Friday 10th September I remember now that when we first hooked up with you in Christchurch, our first thoughts were obviously " Who's this ex-Special Forces biker gang druglord that's hacked into our BF PMs, intercepted our meeting, and done away with the real Chlidonias-the-birdwatcher?

Birdingcraft Friday 10th September Not only is it very entertaining but it gives people a good idea of what to expect overall. If anyone else out there is planning to go into the depths of Indonesia and wants any more specific information about the things I've written about eg, accommodation, prices, etc feel free to ask Chlidonias Saturday 11th September With three days to utilise I chose to go to Bipolo on the first and third days and back to Camplong on the second, to attempt to try and find the remaining endemic birds of the island. Bipolo was remarkably easy to get to, simply bus to the whistle-stop town of Oelmasi and then take a motorbike to the forest at Bipolo about 15km further on up a sideroad.

I was going to just bird along the road, which runs right through the middle, but I found a dirt trail heading into the trees so I took that instead and in a couple of minutes came across a fruiting fig tree. These are great for attracting wildlife. In the Greater Sundas eg, Borneo, Java, Sumatra you might see monkeys and gibbons and hornbills, but in the Lesser Sundas there are just birds I mean, "just" birds. All the forests in Timor had fruiting trees when I was there and it made finding a lot of the species much easier than it might have otherwise been.

Best-looking bird in the tree was the black-banded fruit dove but there were also fabulous endemic species such as the Timor figbird and fawn-breasted whistler. This latter bird really looks nothing like its picture in the field-guide. Its not really great as a field-guide because it weighs about 2. I did the sneaky thing and made up my own annotated checklists of the birds found on each island, so I just have to take the relevant list with me into the field and consult the book for the identification of the trickier species when back at the hotel at night. The pictures of the birds look good but as I found out they don't always accurately depict the species. In fact sometimes they are completely innacurate, the fawn-breasted whistler being just such a one - in fact the whole whistler page is rubbish.

The only reason I managed to identify it from the book at all was because it was obviously a whistler of some sort so I used a process of elimination. It proved endlessly frustrating seeing a bird really well and then not being able to identify it from the book! The northern fantail was another bird that had me going for a while. I couldn't work out what it was at first because it was bigger than other fantail species I've seen and acted completely differently speaking of which, the Arafura fantails here have a weird habit of scuttling about on the ground! After a while the trail came out onto a dirt road and I followed that until it hit the rice fields.

Around here was where I was hoping to find the Timor sparrow, which is related to the Java sparrow commonly seen in pet shops. I wandered round and round and up and down for hours under the blazing sun but narry a Timor sparrow did I spy. I was however excited to find my first Timor zebra finches and barred doves, which of course then turned out to be exceedingly common. The next day it was a return trip to the forest at Camplong, where I discovered that you actually need a permit to enter the forest 15, rupiah. It turned out you're also supposed to have a guide but I pretended I didn't understand what the guards were telling me so they just let me go on my way alone.

Camplong and Bipolo are both excellent forests, but somewhat different from one another. Bipolo is moist lowland forest although as its the dry season, not as moist as the name might suggest while Camplong is dry lowland forest. The ground is completely carpeted in bone-dry leaves making walking silently impossible. Camplong is the best spot to find some interesting endemic species including one I was particularly keen on seeing, the Timor stubtail. It looks almost exactly like a tesia which for those not familiar looks something like a tail-less feathered mouse or, for New Zealanders, like a smaller not-so-round rifleman. The stubtails live on the ground in dense undergrowth and are very secretive, so while I was hoping to get lucky I wasn't overly confident, but no sooner had I entered the forest at Camplong than a stubtail goes hopping across the forest floor about ten metres away and proceeded to start foraging right out in the open.

Really nice little bird. I ended up seeing three in total during the day. Two other endemic skulkers refused to show themselves however, namely the buff-banded thicket-warbler and the black-banded flycatcher. I did manage to successfully track down the white-bellied chat finally -- I had been thinking it would have been larger and the very attractive orange-sided thrush. My second visit to Bipolo was completely different to the first. Birds that had been dripping out of the trees in their dozens were now missing entirely.

The forest seemed deserted. But that's the way it is in birding, one day there's birds and another day there's not, even in exactly the same place. Giving up on the forest I made my way to the rice fields to have another crack at the Timor sparrow. Once again I wandered gormlessly across the fields seeing every sort of finch in the entire world except for the Timor sparrow. To your non-birding relatives and friends it probably seems a strange way to spend a holiday in Indonesia, traipsing round a rice field for hours in forty degree heat looking for a sparrow, but that's the way we roll in the bird nerd world.

On the way back I tried the forest again for a last shot at the remaining endemics, like the Timor black pigeon or the spot-breasted dark-eye, but of them there wasn't a sign. So that was my West Timor dash done. I was very pleased with the birding outcome. I saw heaps of nice birds and the only endemics I missed out on were the apparently-almost-gone Timor green pigeon, the two awful skulkers buff-banded thicket-warbler and black-banded flycatcherthe devilish Timor sparrow, and the spot-breasted dark-eye, Timor oriole and Timor black pigeon. Actually that's quite a few misses but never mind the number of Timor endemics and regional endemics that I did find was a much higher total so its all good.

I was hoping - nay, expecting - to get the last four species but the first three I wasn't really expecting to see. Kupang was very very hot and congested and noisy, but apart from that I liked West Timor quite a lot. It was very easy to get to the birding sites so long as you didn't want an early start. Birding is of course best first thing in the morning before it gets too hot, but in Indonesia you can't rush anywhere. On my first day on the island, going to Camplong, the first bus didn't leave till 7; on the next day to Oelmasi which is right before Camplong the first bus didn't leave till 8; the next day not till 8. Basically the buses just sit there until they have enough passengers and then they leave or just sit there some more -- and then they stop at what appears to be a secondary terminal about four minutes away and sit there for half an hour for no discernible reason.

Its all a bit frustrating but there's nothing you can do about it. Before coming to West Timor I had really assumed that there would be more people than in Sumba that spoke English because of the troops going through and the flights that come in from Darwin which apparently are still going despite what I had been informed prior to the tripbut the ratio is about the same. Its funny where English-speaking locals turn up though. Most people know a couple of words usually "hello Mister" but you just randomly come across others, maybe in the depths of a rice paddy or in some remote roadside rumah makan, that speak better English than some people who have English as their native tongue.

Apart for five or six at the airport when I first arrived I didn't see a single non-Indonesian the whole time I was in Timor, which was also a bit of a surprise. I thought there would have been at least a few around Kupang. So now I will finally be heading off to Flores, the place I was most looking forward to in the Lesser Sundas. The information I had was that there was no internet in Ruteng. But hopefully there would be giant rats.

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Chlidonias Sunday 12th September iin, The whole point of flying straight to Ruteng was to avoid the four hour bus trip there in the first place. You cgat to go with the flow when in Indonesia but sometimes they really do make it difficult. The first grueling forty minutes How to write a dating site email the bus trip were through what appeared to be one continuous chwt. Once past that the road was actually very good but awfully narrow with LOTS of blind corners, and it twisted and swirled through the mountains so much that I started feeling seasick.

We stopped halfway for a goat curry lunch-break then it was back Seex the buttock-numbing test of endurance. In Ruteng I stayed at the Hotel Rima, which has excellent internet the fastest I had yet come across in Indonesia and where the owner speaks perfect English and is very helpful. The rooms are like tiny closets but they're Sex for the porn chat free in waingapu for sleeping in thw who cares right? Ruteng sits at metres so the climate is relatively cool and the nights are a chxt nippy blankets needed. There have even been white folk living in town for extended periods during archaeological digs.

There were three places I wanted to visit when in Ruteng, and all of them are easy to get to. Danau Ranamese was the first Hookers in charles town the agenda. Wxingapu is about 22km out of Ruteng, about 40 minutes by bus. Just before you get to the big archway entrance there is a stretch of high concrete wall, apparently built there to eSx the view down to the lake from the road! I had been imagining it to be a circular crater-lake with a trail running through forest around the circumference, which as it happens is exactly what it is.

I randomly selected left and headed off round the west side of the lake. After an easy start over concrete steps the trail suddenly changed into the work of the devil. Its no exaggeration to say that parts of it were easily the most treacherous trail I have ever been on. In many places it was only the width of my foot, with on one side a ten metre drop straight down to the water below and on the other a near-vertical forested slope. At times the trail just petered out altogether and I had to bush-bash to try and find it again, and there were little side-shoots that looked like they might be trails but quickly ended in masses of vines.

Where-ever the track came out of the trees into the open there grew head-height tangles of a fern that was similar to bracken but covered in little spines, another thing like blackberry but with even more thorns, and various other prickly triffidy herbiage. I cut my arms and hands up something fierce forcing my way through these patches. The area is supposed to be brilliant for birdlife but I saw almost nothing in the four hours it took me to make my way halfway round the only-average-sized lake. It may have been just one of the dead periods you get when birding, or it may have been because I was having to watch my feet for the entire time!

Other birds of the day were Wallacean drongo, russet-capped tesia, white-browed shortwing, rufous-chested flycatcher, Wallacean cuckoo-shrike, helmeted friarbird and on the lake itself common moorhen and Eurasian little grebe. And contrary to popular belief women do it too! Perhaps society has made men less patient and more overt about their intentions but women have the same desires as men. Despite every chat site having a long list of guys exposing themselves and posting seemingly endless requests for pictures, there are girls who choose to engage with them.

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