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April 24, 2004

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Last night we stopped in Flores, going ashore for a glimpse. We meet Muslim Indonesia, a different aspect from Bali's atmosphere. Covered women shuffle by, a call to prayer blares from loud speaker minarets. We walk through a village surrounded by the smells of drying fish caught in the sunlight's glare from tin roofing. A lady passes us with a shy smile, her baby stares at us. Young boys - out of school? - and young men - out of work? - sit along the shopfronts, looking bored, and quietly watch us pass under their muslim style beanie caps.

In the morning the boat sailed to Rinca, Komodo's sister island. Less famous, Rinca's landscape grows more wildly than Komodo's. We find more dragons.

A dragon greeting party, anxious for fresh meat.
Komodo dragons can eat their weight in deer, buffalo, wild horse, or pig which they ambush along the trails.
If the sticks work on dragons, shouldn't they work on hawkers?
Volcanoes blow cloud rings. The islands in this part of Indonesia seemed deserted. No lights shine from their shores at night. If we draw close we may see small fishing villages, not much else.