Moving to Pulau Kri

Today I moved to Pulau Kri for two days. I had tried to get the boatman to leave at 1000 but he was busy with dives so could only fit me in about 1500. I wasted about 3 hours waiting as I managed to fit in a couple hours of “work”.

I went to Pasar Lama when Bapa Oni, the boatman messaged me. The open-air boat headed into the choppy seas towards Pulau Kri, taking about 50 minutes with one engine.

As we approached Pulau Kri and my homestay, Koranu Fyak, I could see the waters were clear and the sand white. There were groups of thatched huts in various places belonging to various homestays but I later hard that not all were in operation.

I had the Pygmy Seahorse hut, between two huts both occupied by Americans. I relaxed and chatted to my new neighbours. Some other people came from the next homestay … and guess what! They’re Americans too! I hardly meet native English speakers in my travels as they seem not to go to certain kinds of destinations, and even fewer Americans. But it is so strange that I run into so many of them here!

Often, the weirder the destination, the more one has in common with fellow-travellers. That was particular true with Brian who was staying at the next homestay. He was organising a group so we could do an excursion to Fam Island.

I also chatted to the patriarch of the homestay. Having a language in common with him (Malay/Indonesian), he really opened up on various issues.

• We touched on the subject of Papuan independence. I asked when Indonesia got it’s independence from the Dutch vs when Papua got its. He said that Papua is not yet independent, of course.
• Papuans and the Kri islanders don’t like skimpily-dressed foreigners. As a community they’ve decided that they will accept foreigners with their customs for business reasons but they will not follow. He said that they are religious people; people of faith. I joked that Papuans are following the religion of these skimpily-dressed foreigners who have now moved on from their religion!

All guests had dinner together. It was fish, vegetables and rice. Little did I know that was the standard here (and at the next homestay) for both lunch and dinner with only very slight variations.

Even after a cold scoop-and-bucket mandi, I went to bed hot and sticky. I thought it was probably nicer to have stayed here the whole time rather than spending some of my Raja Ampat time in Waisai. But what I had done had de-risked my travel arrangements in case of mis-connections. Waisai gave me some insight into a real Raja Ampat township, interacting with locals.