The (he)art of friendship in Flores
In Indonesia, the word teman means "friend." But here, the concept of friendship isn’t limited to deep, enduring bonds—those shared over years of experiences. Its meaning is much more fluid and can describe an acquaintance, someone you met briefly and had some kind of exchange with. A teman can be:
Someone you met once on a long bus ride.
A local who helped you find your way to a hidden waterfall.
A stranger who shared a cigarette or a bottle of arak (local liquor) during a wild night of singing traditional songs.
Me, a random traveler, and gang of teman-teman. Flores, 2013
In Flores, where the roads are unpredictable and the adventures unforgettable, teman is a word you’ll hear often. It’s a reminder that in this part of the world, interpersonal dependence is key and relationships are built on connection, reciprocity, and trust.
The transactional nature of relationships
Indonesian culture is less individualistic than the Western culture I come from. This sense of community is what I first fell in love with here. For as long as I can remember, I’ve felt a deep longing to belong to something greater. Maybe it’s because I grew up far from my extended family in Argentina, or perhaps it’s a craving for completeness that later drew me to deep spiritual practices. Whatever the reason, Indonesia’s emphasis on community resonated with me in a way I hadn’t experienced before. And this makes completely sense: in a country where government support is minimal, relying on others isn’t just a choice – it’s a necessity.
In Flores, the weight of adat (customary law) is still strong, even romantic relationships have a practical side. Marriage is often seen as a contract that binds two families, creating a network of reciprocity that functions like a life insurance policy. In Western cultures, there’s often a stigma around acknowledging the transactional aspects of relationships, even those born out of love. We like to think of love—whether romantic, familial, or platonic—as pure and selfless. But let’s be honest: even in so-called "modern" societies, love is rarely free from exchange. The sociologist Eva Illouz states it very clearly in her body of work: modern romantic relationships are deeply shaped by market logic, where emotions and commitments are often negotiated like transactions. The feminist in me can’t help but point out that the idea of "pure love" is often a myth, one that obscures the power dynamics and expectations woven into even the most intimate bonds. But I digress.
There is a book I love and recommend to anyone wanting to understand more about Indonesian culture: Indonesia Etc.: Exploring the Improbable Nation. In this book, the author Elisabeth Pisani tells the story of an older woman in Sumba (an island south of Flores) who disapproves of her brother's marriage. She gifts him an albino buffalo—an extremely rare and valuable offering. While this might seem like a generous act to an outsider, it’s actually about creating an obligation and ensuring he will always be in her debt.
As this story shows, interdependence in communities can be overwhelming, rooted in a generosity whose price is sometimes hard to understand from a Western point of view. This idea of interconnectedness and reciprocity plays a huge role in how we interact with others. And that’s where teman comes in. Up until the first time I traveled in Indonesia, I had always been somewhat dismissive of these fleeting encounters, never fully appreciating their true value. Like many Westerners, I spent so much time thinking I could do it all on my own that I missed out on the richer, more genuine experiences that come from leaning into these unpredictable, spontaneous exchanges.
A (truck) ride to be remembered.
A lesson in trust and connection
The first time I traveled to Flores as a solo female traveler, I thought all I needed was my wits and a well-thumbed guidebook. I was wrong.
I quickly learned that the real magic of Flores lies in its people. Whether it was an ojek who invited me to share a meal or a group of kids showing me the way to a waterfall , it was the connections I made – the teman-teman (friends) – that transformed my trip.
One of my most cherished memories from that first trip is captured in a single photo: the one at the beginning of this article. There I am, standing with another random traveler and a group of local guys who started as teman and became family. Twelve years later, they’re still a part of my life.
It all began in Moni, a small village near Kelimutu. We’d been hanging around for days, soaking in the slow pace of life, when someone had the idea to visit Koka Beach. Back then, Koka was completely unknown to tourists—I like to think we were the ones who put it back on the map.
With nothing but our backpacks and a sense of adventure, we climbed into the back of a truck and set off. When we arrived, we had to ask the village chief for permission to camp on the beach—a necessary formality in Flores. Once we got the green light, we hiked for 45 minutes through lush greenery until we reached what felt like the edge of the world.
Koka beach, last paradise on earth.
Koka Beach was breathtaking: two pristine coves with crystal-clear water and golden sand. We set up camp, cracked open some arak, and spent the night laughing, singing, and chasing kepiting (crabs) under the stars. We climbed trees for coconuts, drank their sweet water, and feasted on their flesh. It tasted like freedom.
That night was pure magic—camaraderie, adventure, and the kind of freedom you only feel when you’re far from the beaten path. Years have passed since then. Most of us have responibiliies, some are married with kids. But even in the age of social media, we still find time to reconnect, whether it’s around a fire at the feet of a volcano or while watching the sun set over Komodo, reminiscing about the night we camped at Koka Beach.
For me, Koka has become a kind of pilgrimage—a reminder of the bonds we formed and the beauty of living in the moment. Teman is more than just a word; it’s the chance to meet people who will forever hold a place in your heart.
The (he)art of frienship
On this Valentine’s Day, let’s shift the focus from romantic love and cherish everyone who has come into your life, filling your days with love—whether for a moment, a season, or a lifetime. I want to celebrate this deep sense of community that supports us in times of need (and we surely need it right now). In Flores, more than anywhere else in the world, every smile, every shared meal, and every act of kindness is a reminder that love comes in many forms.
So, come to Flores. Come with an open heart, and leave with a soul full of joy, a camera roll full of memories, and a network of teman-teman who will forever make you feel at home in this beautiful corner of the world.