he word chhipkali sends shivers down my spine. Growing up, even the sight of the little critter would make me run. I would not use the bathroom or sleep in my bed if I saw one of these creatures slithering around the walls. My worst nightmare was opening my wardrobe and finding a couple of them wandering through my belongings.

Little did I know that, in a few decades, I would be staring into the eyes of their cousin—the Komodo dragon, the largest lizard in the world.

This year, I went to Indonesia for the first time for work. I already knew it was a beautiful country. Growing up, I had heard exotic names like Bali, Borneo, Sumatra and Java, but the sheer scale of the country astounded me. Starting from an island near Singapore, Indonesia comprises a chain of more than 17,000 islands stretching all the way to Australia. The longest distance is more than five thousand kilometres—a seven-hour flight.

Air travel remains the most efficient means of transportation. I went through seven airports. They were not fancy but modern and comfortable, though security was a little lax.

Indonesia is the largest Muslim country in the world, with a population of 280 million, of whom nearly 90 per cent are Muslims. The Indonesians are an ethnically diverse nation. Their history has had its ups and downs, including colonisation under the Dutch, independence post-World War II, the oppressive Suharto regime and the troubled breakaway of East Timor. Since 1988, democracy has taken hold and contributed to stability and security.

I found the people gentle and courteous, almost to a fault. An endearing habit is to hand over items using only the right hand, often with the left hand supporting the right elbow. Initially, I thought this was specific to hotel staff training, but I noticed it everywhere. My airport pickup was 25 minutes late at Labuan Bajo. There was a non-stop series of heartfelt apologies, starting from the driver all the way to the bellhop carrying my luggage to the room. By that time, I felt genuinely guilty, as though I had perhaps arrived too early.

On the back of political stability, the country has now emerged as a growing economic powerhouse of Asia, driven mainly by the wealth of natural resources. There are vast reserves of highly valued minerals such as nickel and copper. This economic progress (current GDP per capita is three times that of Pakistan) is evident in the quality of buildings, vehicles, hotels, airports, shopping malls and the lifestyle of most people. There is still poverty, but things are changing fast for the better.

After finishing my assignment, I ended up at the Airport Hotel in Jakarta. I had wrangled a few days for myself and decided it was time to face my fears and check one of the top items off my bucket list: the Komodo islands. It was time to confront my nemesis—the biggest chhipkali of them all: the Komodo dragon.

I took a two-hour flight to Labuan Bajo, the capital of the region. Komodo, as the group of islands is known, is world-famous for its eponymous reptiles and is a nature reserve renowned for its beauty, biodiversity and unique ecology. These islands are in the Flores Sea, which connects the Indian and Pacific Oceans. As a channel of flows between two great water bodies, it is home to nutrient-rich waters that attract a wide variety of sea life. The sea is calm and shallow, making it an attractive destination for snorkelers and scuba divers.

I stayed at the Meruorah Hotel in Labuan Bajo, a friendly seaside town. The hotel featured a beautiful lobby that opened out onto the sea, offering amazing views of the nearby islands. I spent the night in Labuan Bajo and took a few short walks around the town centre, which was filled with tour operators, dive centres and coffee shops. Many of these cafes boasted attractive sea views and served exceptional coffee—Indonesia is known for the flavours and varieties of its coffee beans. Due to the heat and humidity, I only tried the iced coffee. I would recommend a stopover at Carpenter’s Cafe. I saw many tourists, mainly Australians, as Indonesia is very accessible to them.

Later in the evening, I walked by the fish market, where they cook the catch of the day on the spot, infused with delicious Indonesian spices. Since it was my only evening in Labuan Bajo, I took the opportunity for a short hike up Amelia Hill to enjoy a view of the surrounding islands. Later, I savoured a sumptuous grilled fish at Atlantis on the Rock while watching the kaleidoscope of colours as the sun set over the Flores Sea.

The next morning, I was picked up by Kris, my tour guide, who took me to a boat I had rented for three days. Named Jinggo Janggo, it had a spirited crew that catered to my every whim and caprice for the next three days and two nights. The boats on the Komodo tour moved at a leisurely pace, almost meandering across the calm waters between the islands. Many of the islands are uninhabited, though some have small populations. On land, afternoons felt oppressive with the humidity, but out on the boat, the gentle sea breeze was so pleasant that I never used the air conditioner in my cabin. It turned out to be a redundant option after all. Throughout my trip, I did not sleep in my cabin. Instead, I slept on the deck, on a mattress under the open sky, with the sound of water and the canopy of beautiful stars above. I probably had one of the best nights of sleep in my life. The crew on board prepared fresh seafood for every meal in various local flavours.

The next morning, we woke up early and went to Rinca Island, one of the homes of the Komodo dragon. Arriving early, we avoided the crowds and walked to the Rangers Station. Led by a local guide, we came upon a three-metre Komodo dragon, the largest on the island. It was lying peacefully just behind the Rangers Station, appearing not very mobile and somewhat sleepy. I had a strong suspicion it had been drugged for tourists, which is unfortunate but understandable, as they are not timid, harmless creatures. They can run at speeds of up to 20 kilometres per hour, can easily climb trees and are excellent swimmers. In short, if you are being chased by a Komodo, don’t even bother. However, their preferred meals are not humans but local deer and cattle. They are also cannibals and will eat their own kind if needed. Their mode of hunting is to bite the prey once and then let it go. The prey runs away, but the strong venom soon incapacitates it. The Komodo, using its keen sense of smell, follows the prey at a leisurely pace, and once it collapses, devours it eagerly.

Afterwards, we went for a walk with a guide who held a stick. I wasn’t sure how that would ward off a three-metre-long venomous lizard, but it seemed to work. Walking across the gentle hills of the island, I saw six or seven Komodo dragons of various sizes. While monitor lizards elsewhere rarely exceed a metre, Komodo dragons, especially males, are over two metres in length and have a very different physiology. They are not sleek but muscular, with very large heads. They are found on a few islands in the area, with a total population of less than 6,000. Being cold-blooded creatures, they spend most of the day warming in the sun but can burst into sudden action when hunting. They tend to be territorial and remain in their area.

Spending time with Komodo dragons in their natural habitat had been on my to-do list for over two decades. Having first seen them in a National Geographic documentary, this was one place I truly wanted to visit. What an exhilarating experience.

Returning safely from the Komodo Islands, our next stop was a dive at Manta Point. Due to the location of the water channel, there is always a high probability of manta sightings. The last time I saw mantas, from a distance, was off the coast of Jeddah more than 15 years ago. This was my first scuba dive in three years, so I approached it with some trepidation, but the gentle, calm waters and amazing visibility helped. I was in the water for barely 10 minutes when two giant manta rays glided past me in all their glory and grace. These gentle giants, with a wingspan of nearly four metres, resembled spaceships more than sea creatures.

I was surprised to see the dead coral spread over a large area, assuming it must have been caused by the 2004 tsunami. Later, Kris informed me that before this area was designated a nature reserve, the popular local method for fishing was with dynamite. Hundreds of square metres of valuable coral reef were destroyed for a few kilograms of fish. Thankfully, this is no longer the case, but it will take a long time for the coral to regenerate.

After the dive, we visited another set of islands known for their flying foxes—large, fruit-eating bats that migrate between islands at sunset and dawn. Viewing them at sunset is particularly dramatic. Just before dark, thousands of flying foxes flew over our boat from one island to another in search of food. Kris told me that just before dawn the next morning, like clockwork, they would return. At first, they appeared to be large birds until they flew directly above me. At full stretch, their outline resembled the Batman logo.

The next day, I took it easy on the boat, hopping from one island to another while enjoying freshly cooked Indonesian seafood, including the world-famous nasi goreng. Indonesia is very multicultural, and my crew came from various islands and looked quite different. Of the five, two were Christians, one a Muslim and two Hindus. They explained that they coexist quite peacefully; there are occasional tensions, but they rarely escalate into serious violence.

On my last evening on the boat, as I sat on the deck watching the sunset across the sea, I wanted to capture the moment, to lock in every sensory detail. A gentle breeze blew as water lapped against the side of the boat. The rope dragging our smaller tender grazed against the rails, creating a rhythmic sound. The Komodo sunset is unforgettable. The colours of the sky, mixed with clouds and reflections from the water, created a blend of violet, purple, red, pink and orange that defies accurate description. Outlined against this vibrant background were small islands teeming with incredible nature.

I couldn’t help but feel grateful. Diagnosed with an incurable disease just over two years ago, the idea that I would ever get to experience this was nothing short of a fantasy. During that period of painful but necessary treatment, the best I could hope for was to lie flat and sleep peacefully or to climb a flight of stairs without being out of breath. This was as far as I dared to hope. I was grateful for the progress of medical science, grateful for friends and family who rallied around and provided the anchor I needed to hold on to. I am grateful for the entire experience, as it broadened my perspective in ways I could never have learned from someone else’s journey.

To be in a position to savour this incredible nature, in such a remote and enchantingly beautiful corner of Earth—a dream I dreamt 20 years ago but had recently lost hope of ever achieving—was nothing short of a miracle. Indeed, I have so much to be grateful for.

The writer is a finance professional based in Dubai. He tweets @travelutionary1