Waves crashed on the shore of Seminyak Beach, booming, one after another, unmindful of the people swimming on its waters, unmindful of the big ball of fire, setting poetically behind it. The whole beach was bathed in a fiery orange light, a last hurrah for the day that’s soon gonna end. It mirrored exactly what we were feeling, at the sunset deck of Alila Seminyak, glasses of cocktails in hand. It was a melancholic farewell to the twelve days we’ve spent around Indonesia, with old and new friends alike.

SUNSET AT SEMINYAK BEACH

It was the last day of Indonesia’s Trip of Wonders tour. We started off in Jakarta, passing through Bandung, Lombok, Jogjakarta, Flores and finally, Bali. Unlike our previous stops, we have absolutely no itinerary here. What we were here for was to rest and party, celebrating the adventure-filled days that went by. And our chosen chill-out place, Alila Seminyak.

“That beach can’t really be as pink as that.”  I told W, as I was browsing through Komodo Island’s Pink Beach on his Instagram account. A few days later, we docked on that same beach. And I couldn’t believe my eyes. I was bowled over. Its sand was even more pink as the photo I was shown.

ABOVE AND BELOW INDONESIA’S KOMODO NATIONAL PARK

Besides komodo dragons, the largest lizard on the planet and a living Jurassic creature at that, the Komodo National Park also boasts of beautiful beaches and extensive underwater gardens fit for snorkeling and diving. The three we visited, much as I wouldn’t want to admit it, can go head to head with the best that the Philippines has to offer when it comes to beaches.

My throat was parched and my breathing, ragged. I trudged, unwillingly, for a few more steps uphill before I turned my back. The view blossomed like a flower right before my eyes; four coves ringed with white beaches, cradling jade green waters within its embrace. Dividing them, a range of craggy peaks rose into a falsetto, their surfaces a grassland of dried bushes, golden brown against the lively greens of the sea, dotted with notes of green trees here and there. I took in the fresh breeze, breathing it fully, savoring its fresh salty taste before letting Padar Island’s panorama take it all away again.

We treaded along a dusty trail with the utmost quietness; climbing slowly up a hill, each step sending loose small rocks rolling behind us. What we’re on the lookout for, dragons. Not the mythical fire-breathing Targaryen types, but a smaller, more real one—the komodo kind. As we crested the hilltop, we couldn’t help but loudly marvel at the sight before us; the island’s verdant foliage meeting with the aquamarine sea, and beyond, brown rugged mountains dotted with sparse trees. “Shhhh,” our guide said.

AN ADULT KOMODO DRAGON RESTING AFTER A MEAL

We were at the Indonesia’s famed Komodo Island and we’re here to see the largest living reptile in the world, the komodo dragons. And even though these creatures are deaf towards very low and loud sounds, their sense of smell, which they utilize using their forked tongues like their reptilian kin, is extremely sensitive. With the searing weather, our sweat-drenched bodies were definitely a prime target.

We overslept. Awkwardly sprawled like drunks on our hotel’s freshly made sheets, we snoozed the remaining part of the afternoon after binging away on crisply fried chickens during lunch. We were exhausted. From the day-long connecting flights from Lombok to Bali and Labuan Bajo, we fell into a deep stupor that lasted exactly an hour later than our scheduled wake up time to attend a sunset cocktail at one of the highest points of the island.

COLORFUL BOATS DOCKED ALONG LABUAN BAJO’S SMALL PIER

We arrived in the town of Labuan Bajo in Flores a little after lunch. The town is small, with narrow dusty streets lined with hostels, souvenir shops, diving centers, restaurants serving Western dishes and local warung eateries. Along its sidewalks, we spied European backpackers, barefoot, donning their Bintang singlets and totally unmindful of the afternoon heat. Indeed, this town is a popular base camp for travelers wanting to explore the nearby Padar, Rinca and Komodo Islands.

Under a deep blue sky, we glided along North Lombok’s strangely creamy and sparklingly azure waters. It was the first time we saw the real Indonesian sea after several days of touring around Jakarta, Bandung and Yogyakarta. Yes, it was finally time to visit the beach and Lombok’s three famous islands; Gili Trawangan, Gili Meno and Gili Air, fitted our beaching needs to a perfect tee.

THE VIEW EN ROUTE TO GILI ISLANDS

From the Golden Tulip Hotel Mataram where we were staying, we boarded our tour bus early. A couple of hours of scenic ride later, we alighted at the Bangsal Harbor, the public jump off point for the Gili Islands. The fast boat fee is at IDR85,000.00 per person and IDR15,000.00 for the public boat. As I learned in Sasak Village Sade, Gili in Sasak means small island, so Gili Islands is really a misnomer, if you have to be a grammar nazi about it.

With tendrils of mists still sleeping along the ridges of trees below the silhouette of a graceful mountain, morning came to Mataram. My eyes was still encumbered by sleep after an almost all-nighter Bintang session with Filipino and Thai travelers at Golden Tulip’s pool patio, but I immediately pulled off the cobwebs of sleep when I saw the panorama unfolding right outside our floor to ceiling window.

GOLDEN TULIP’S SNAZZY LOBBY

HIGH-CEILINGED HALLWAYS

We were booked on the 8th floor of the Golden Tuilip Hotel in Lombok. We checked in right after visiting the Sasak Village Sade, still excited as we get to explore this part of Indonesia. After a quick registration at its spacious lobby, we were led to our Deluxe Queen Room [CHECK ROOM RATES & AVAILABILITY].

The beat of an oversized gendang beleq drum has died, the people, dispersed. The village of Sasak Sade, a small community of indigenous families in Lombok, seemed to revert to its normal self; children playing about its narrow dirt-packed alleys, elders going about their daily life, ladies weaving colorful tapestries, mothers nursing babies on their breasts. A child, maybe no more than twelve years of age, his face painted with a moustache, peeked shyly at me from a carved wooden door. A moment before, he was among the performers dancing with gusto and abandon, celebrating and sharing their culture to complete strangers.