Exploring the city…..

We have seen so many aspects of Bangkok in the last few days,

Admired the high-rise spectacular skyline and gazed fascinated at the floating villages and the sinking shacks lining the canals;

We have been to Tescos (yes, really) and wandered the endless night markets and day bazaars and the maze of alleys of Chinatown.

We have marvelled at the splendour of Wot Pho and Wot Ankar, been dazzled by the colours of the Grand Palace, yet also loved the individual dwelling shrines, and the Chinese Temples.

Food has been a constant delight. Street stalls offer so much choice, Paul has been able to indulge his love of meat, and I have my spiced fruit, local ice cream (Pandan and Duran fruit are my favourites), and we have treated ourselves to numerous iced treats, the bowl filled with sweets at the bottom, and topped with syrup and evaporated milk!

 

Pics show me with at the Grand Palace, with elephant and with an armed guard-hard to tell which was the statue!- me looking exhausted as we took the final ferry back at sunset, and one of the above treat.

Thailand.

Met Paul by the baggage reclaim in Bangkok airport-not the most romantic of settings, but a wonderful reunion!

Long day discovering Bangkok:

Picks of me with Buddha in ‘Wot Po’, home to the massive reclining Buddha and hundreds more reclaimed from throughout the country, in every divine pose, size and shape… and the odd Chinese Mandarin!

And a pic of me at the top of Wot Anka, where the pagodas loom over the river offering spectacular views of the Bangkok skyline.

The city is fascinating, a complete contrast to the quiet of the villages in Ubud: despite jet lag (Paul) and being disorientated after so long alone (me) we rode the sky train into town, rode the ferry into the markets of Chinatown and wandered around two famous temples.

This evening we had a sumptuous meal out at the local fish stall, only to be charged far too much by the owner, so much haggling and arguing ensured, half was finally agreed, all parting with smiles and thanks………..welcome to Bangkok!

Moving On….to Edwina and Paul’s travels.

And so the end of my solo journey is nigh. Tomorrow I leave for Bangkok and a reunion with Paul. We’ve gone upmarket, at least by my standards, as this is our holiday, the treat for the two of us, and I am looking forward to it, and meeting my husband again after three months!
Indonesia has been brilliant; it has rejuvenated my body, mind and spirit. I realise now I was at the limit of my mental and physical stamina when I arrived here three weeks ago. Three weeks here has been fascinating, but also relaxing, the pace has been slower, the beaches beautiful, the society and culture ‘open’ and friendly, more tolerant, and with its western influences, easier to understand.
Sanur was a delight, with its long beach paths, endless sands, nigh and day markets, and a complex interweaving of tourist spots and local haunts. There I saw my first chicken fight,  metres away from  posh beach restaurant, the village life continues as it has always done…………
The food here is delicious, once I’d got to grips with the veggie options, though my favourite food is still the fatty snacks, alas! Eating from the bike carts and the street vendors means a constant variety of goodies……..much cycling and swimming necessary to stave off the pounds………..
Gili Air is a land I thought no longer existed…few tourists, just tiny villages dotted around the tiny isle, linked by paths through coconut groves, and only a donkey and cart for any transport. Everything is imported by boat, the villagers fish for their supper, wandering up the beach with handfuls of fish………so quiet it was freaky, and made me realise how hard it is for me to relax, even in paradise!
Ubud is a delight. Staying outside in the village here surrounded by rice fields has been a great decision, cycling or walking into the hassle and bustle of the town through the rice farms and the villages has given me an insight into the patterns of life in the rice paddy country. The labour is intensive and primitive, no mechanical aids, just men and women often waist deep in water tending to their crops.
I did not realise how steep the rice paddies are (I do now, my legs are so sore from the cycling!) or how noisy, but swimming under the eyes of curious ducks and geese peering through the fence adjoining the little garden and pool here is fun, they trot up and down matching my lengths!
I do crave good nights sleep-Indonesian roofs, being bamboo, are full of nightlife (geckos are very loud, and have a tendency to drop down onto the roof of the mossie net, a rude awaking!). And it will be lovely to be able to go outside without mossie spray and sun cream, even to put the kettle on (its either the kitchen or the bathroom, no house seems to be entirely inside, saves on power, I guess!)
But I shall cherish memories of Indonesia, the kindness of the people, the variety of the scenery, the wonderful, if changeable, weather –turns out I have been very lucky-apart from the odd rainy moment the only bad day I have experienced was the day I sailed back from Gili Air, I have been dodging the monsoon rainfall, fortuitously being in a different place to the downpours throughout my time here, thank goodness.
And the massages-OMG the massages, from the traditional Balinese to the back, neck and shoulder healing therapy of today, truly superb!
So I go to meet Paul with a light heart, thank you Indonesia. India and Sri Lanka have given me memories to treasure, and I will never forget my time there, and am so grateful I found the courage to finally venture forth….There is no point of comparison with western life, seeing how different life is there was enlightening, chastening, and exhausting.
I’d love to go back, possibly to do charity work or just see more –India is so vast that, despite travelling hours and hours, by every available mode of transport, I barely touched the surface. Maybe one day…….I shall never forget the sights, smells, sounds of India, it will stay with me for ever.
And so my next blog, all being well, will be
‘Edwina and Paul’s travels in Thailand’

 

Balinese Beauty.

I am beautiful!
Honestly, and amazingly, by Balinese standards, it seems I am indeed a beauty.
Bemused by the fact that since I arrived in Indonesia I have had so many genuine compliments, I asked the therapist trying (and failing) to work wonders with my nails, why she and her staff had told me I was ‘gorgeous’?
It is my shoulders!  Broad shapely shoulders and a well defined neck and chest (not bosom, chest) are the main feature of femininity here.
My face has seen better days (OK, years) and most of my body is definitely past its best, but my wide sculptured shoulders, toned arms and pectoral muscles are in good nick, and here this is most valued. Yippee.
My ego is replenished and restored, I love Bali.
Attached show me posing in the entrance doorway to the Bianco Museum, under the slogan!! The security guard insisted, honestly…………

The slogan

And also insisted I make friends with the birds in the garden-as you can see from my forced smile, I am not so sure just how tame they are……….

This museum was a delight, full of eclectic, bizarre paintings by the famous Spanish painter who settled in Bali, think Dali but with an Eastern setting………including the erotica room, where the paintings are shuttered and opened only on request. Needless to say, I requested, and was duly intrigued and impressed!!

Eat/Explore/Enjoy

The town is split between yoga and spirit festival devotees, and the rest of us….I’m happier eating local food, exploring local villages and enjoying life at my own pace.
By cycling slowly (not much choice there, steep gradient up, steep gradient down, nothing is on the level) I can distinguish patterns in rice fields, and can now see the compounds in the villages behind the elaborate gates. The main house is surrounded by neighbouring buildings as sons marry and bring their wives to the compound-most of the villages around Ubud are working rice farms, and watching men and women in bamboo hats use manual ploughs, scythes, sieves, etc is endlessly fascinating.
I have my favourite ‘warung’ shack; run by a Muslim family who now greet me kindly and offer their daily specials. Supper of a buffet of tofu, tempe, assorted veg, noodles, eggs, comes to 70p,  about 25% of the cost of eating in the tourist sites lining Ubud Main Street. It’s delicious food, and the fresh fruit shakes are fab; I have developed an addiction to them esp papaya and tamarillo ones.
My days develop a natural pattern of waking at dawn, having breakfast here of fresh fruit, pancakes and toast (my appetite is enormous nowadays) and then cycling around the villages or to an art gallery or museum in Ubud.  A swim and rest in the shade is essential in the heat, and then I take the villa’s free shuttle to Ubud for a potter in the afternoon, walking back for a swim in the moonlight, watched by frogs, geckos, and fireflies in the darkness.
I made an exception to see the Kecak and Fire Dance Show at the temple in Ubud, and it was brilliant. There are a variety of shows at temples each night, but this is the most traditional, involving chanting while dancers tell a story from the Hindu epic, and then the fire dance. Only the ‘chosen’ one can dance in the fire-I’ve never seen anything like it. In India men walked on fire, but here the dancer literally performed in the flames, his feet alight as he leapt.
I’d decided to support the women’s kecak, a relatively new form of the practice. The chorus of stamping, chanting women numbered into hundreds. The audience numbered 6!  The tourist coaches take their parties to selected venues, and fortunately this was not one of them………..instead 5 women and I shared chocolate and swopped travellers tales as we waited in the temple grounds  –and the dancers did not disappoint.

Outside the Temple at night 

The colourful principle dancers wove a complex tale against the backdrop of flaming torches, surrounded by lyrical voices, rising to a crescendo of the fire dance. Afterwards the fire dancer waited to speak to us to show us his burnt feet, looking proud, but despite the anointing of holy water, in some pain!

After the fire dance

It was a wonderful evening, worth missing my nightly ‘bath’ in the pool –the power here is so erratic that by the time I returned home on the villa’s shuttle it was 10pm and too dark to risk walking from my verandah over the grass to the pool –the wildlife was already bedded in for the night and I didn’t fancy disturbing anything!!

Arts, crafts and dragon fruit

Off on my bike to explore the outlying villages…and this time the Arma museum of Arts, a private collection of ‘splendid’ (curator quote) paintings in fantastic buildings outside the town. I haven’t yet tired of the Balinese art, from the traditional to the modern.
The older styles tell mythologies and Hindu histories, the middle period from the 1920s onwards with western influences begins to reflect reality, and the contemporary work is a revelation about the way many Indonesians feel about the commercialisation of their country!
The elaborate wood doors which decorate every temple and house (the well off ones, anyway, home-wise) were being replaced, and I was summoned to have a lesson! The tourists who flock to Ubud are here for the yoga and the ‘spirit’ festival, not the museum, so I have been greeted with alacrity by the staff each time! The craftsman spent ages persuading me I could do it, and would not ruin his work, and eventually, as you can see from the pics, I got the hang of it, and have now contributed to a temple door in Ubud.

Wood carving lesson

Lunch time and a much much needed swim-cycling back up the hills in the heat is a killer! This afternoon my legs failed me, and I took the 3pm free shuttle from here to the town, where I spent a pleasant hour trawling the spas and salons before ‘plucking’ up the courage to have my upper lip waxed-at a delightful spa run by ‘unisex’ staff (i.e. I couldn’t’ tell) but they did a very good job!! (and at less than £1, cheaper than England!!)
Walking back through the villages at sunset is wonderful, as you can see from the pics. The workers in the rice fields continue until it gets too dark to see, but the dying light on the water of the levels is amazing. The villagers have got to know me now, as I stopped to take a photo, one came out from the house they were building and invited me in so I could see the panoramic view from the back, out of simple kindness as far as I could tell, the family were proud of the position of their new home, keen to tell me how it was being built in their spare time-brick built houses are a major sign of wealth in the villages.
And the locals along my route ‘home’ are not even trying to rip me off (at least I think not!)- I stopped at the fruit cart for some dragon fruit (see pic) and as it only comes in a kilo, I have a lot to get through- but at 50p, it hardly matters if I end up leaving some-the monkeys love them, and so do I!

Dragon Fruit

The town is full, and many venues setting up for the bands, music and dancing for the spirit festival. I’ve seen the programme, it seems stunning similar to English festivals to me; the list reads like Latitude or others of that ilk-I may give it a miss and go to the fire dancing at the temple instead, but will see how the fancy takes me…………..the Bali spirit has entered my soul in terms of simply not worrying (at least too much!!)

Ubud uncut

The Villa Mandi may be 20 minutes cycle (too scared for a motorbike, I’ve got a pushbike!) up and down narrow windy potholed very steep hills through rice paddies, along the river banks, across a high ravine finally descending through hanging trees into the tow, but its wonderful to be based in the peace of the village rather than the busy town.

Dawn over the Rice paddies

Ubud is a tourist mecca, encouraged by Julia Roberts in Eat, Pray, Love; there are yoga barns, spas, alternative havens, raw veggie cafes, music venues and art galleries at every turn. Japanese tour groups haunt the sights, and so do beggars, hawkers and anyone who wants anything!
It is, despite that, a great town, with a very different feel to the beach culture of Sanur, and a great buzz after the silence of Gili Air.  The weather is also different, intense humidity, constant thunderstorms and intermittent heavy rain; lightening constantly flashes in the sky, day and night. The freshness in the air is lovely, even though it is still hot enough to swim in the darkness every night before bed.
There are pros and cons to living in the middle of rice fields-the pros are being at one with nature, the cons being that nature wakes with sunrise. The dawn chorus of geese and frogs ensure I am up in time to admire the sun’s rays lifting over the looming volcano…I just wish the sun rose later!

The Dawn Chorus

I had no idea rice fields were alive with geese and ducks…drifting beside them in India is not the same as living in them…the din is deafening.  And as the main sport among the villages is chicken fighting, the roosters join in for good measure. Apparently it’s not blood thirsty, it’s to do with appeasing demons by spilling blood, according to locals, but the sight of the chickens penned in the cages, and watching men train them to kill, upsets me.
The friendly staff here serve my choice of breakfast on the veranda (the portion size is getting bigger and bigger, today I had two pancakes rather than one, plus toast and fruit, bless them) so fuelled with carbs the cycle into town isn’t too bad.
The monkey sanctuary is both great fun, watching them watching us and also moving, the temples overrun with monkeys, and the village cemetery- I now know that the village bury their dead for 5 years, and then the bodies are exhumed and cremated, so that new graves can be dug-environmentally friendly, and a perfect example of what to me is a west/east mix of culture and society-compared to India, this has western influences, and the Hindu-Buddist religion, though unique, easier to appreciate than the complexities of Indian spirituality.
I spent a fascinating few hours going round Neka Museum of contemporary art, complementing the insight gained from my first foray in the traditional art museum. The complex evolution of Indonesian art, and the interweaving of western influences and artists, is absorbing, and has helped me understand more the historic cultural practices here (see chicken fighting!!)
I‘ve bargained in the markets; my new shorts and t shirt came to less than £3 overall, the stall holder for the shorts was still smiling when I paid, so despite negotiating down to a quarter of the asking price, I suspect I could still have got them for less, but the t-shirt must have been a bargain, as the woman there was clearly sulking when she agreed my price!!
And I’ve finally had my eyebrows fixed-since India they have grown so much that I looked like a monkey- choosing a salon here is like decided which bit of straw in a haystack, so I had to trust my instincts… it took the poor woman ages as the etiquette here is tweezers-amazing how nice it feels to be at least slightly groomed, even if still travel worn and travel tatty in every other aspect!

Ubud-day 1

This place is beautiful, but the hot water is spasmodic, the new bathtub does not have any taps, doh, and the TV has only Euro news in English, no BBC-whilst it is a luxury to have TV, it would be useful to have onc with something interesting to watch…though I now know there is a new pope!
But undaunted I enjoyed my breakfast staring at the rain on my veranda (the food is provided by the maids running over from the kitchen of the family home here and offering the menu-which is exactly the same as Gili Air, i.e. fruit pancake, or eggs and toast, plus fruit…nice, but it would be good, like the TV, to have a real choice.
The villa provides a shuttle service to Ubud town at set times. I had negotiated a rate for bike hire, but the 10 minute drive is along narrow, steep hills, and in the rain I erred on the side of caution and got the shuttle to the town….
Ubud is full of art galleries, markets, temples, palaces-my first wander took me to the Palace, and to the Museum of Balinese Art, which was fascinating. I’ve sent pics of me enjoying the cultural side of Bali, relishing the intellectual challenge of having to read and think after island downtime.

Relaxing by the Lotus Pond in a temple in Ubud

As the day drew to a close I took my bike out along the rice fields and working villages which surround the town, dodging the women walking carrying assorted goods from calor gas stoves/buckets/laundry/you name it... on their heads, the men with scythes, motorbikes and push bikes with wide loads of everything from eggs to hot meals-buying supper from the carts is the common way for the villagers to eat.
Tonight I swam under the stars, watching the mosquitos gather over my head waiting for me to surface for their supper….

Tropical tornado

Lombok did its very best to ensure I did not make it to Bali, throwing monsoon storms, high winds, and finally a tropical tornado, into my path.
The blue skies and constant heat haze deteriorated into black clouds late afternoon the day before departure, winds tearing across the island, boats being frantically pulled high onto the banks away from the sands. Amazingly, the setting sun broke through the darkness, shooting deep red and purple streaks across the shadows of the volcano, as if it was on fire.
The storm continued overnight, but at dawn a brief respite, so I summoned a donkey and cart to the jetty. Sure enough, the wooden public boat set off for Gili Trawangan, loaded with people, goods, and chickens in cages…wading out I nearly lost myself and all I possessed in a surge of water, but was hurled bodily aboard by boatmen, who thought it was hilarious!
At Gili Trawangan by 8.30am, ready for my fast boat transfer at 11am, the skies were already darkening again. But staff insisted the boat was en-route from Lombok, and would outrun the storm. So I had a final breakfast of pineapple pancake and juice in a beach front bar sheltering not from the sun but from the rain and wind, watching the surf whip out enormous waves out at sea.
And yes, the boat appeared, all diesel engines at full throttle, and once again I waded waist high into the seas and up a wooden ladder into the cabin, and once again nearly ended up toppling head first into the water! As we set off the cabin windows were locked and sea sickness pills handed out, rather worryingly….and sure enough it was rough-so rough that I have a 2 inch long gash on my calf due to being thrown out of my seat. Luckily, as well as pills, the staff had iodine and plasters….
My final glimpse of Lombok was white water lighting up the darkness….and then, outrunning one storm, we ran into another, this time a tropical tornado. The sky ahead was lighter, so the terrifying appearance of the dark twister silhouetted in the sky reaching from heaven to earth had everyone praying, even the staff………engines roaring, we swerved from side to side trying to stay out of its path-I honestly thought my last moment had come. Luckily it stayed on land, moving across and disappearing into the blackness surrounding us.
2 bone grindingly painful hours later, we limped into Pandang Bai-I have never been so grateful to get off a boat before, clambering over the three boats between us and the jetty and shimming up the ladder, hoisting rucksacks aloft and hurling them onto the sand with a strength made from sheer terror!
Alas, the storm continued on land, and the transport provided by the fast boat company was a very elderly minibus/driver. Leaving the harbour in our own black cloud of exhaust smoke, I wasn’t sure I was any safer on land than on the water……….
Another two bone grindingly painful hours later, up mountains, down windy roads through villages and back up again higher and higher into the rice fields of inland Bali, I arrived at the Villa Mandi.
This is a beautiful place, a selection of villas gathered around a lovingly tendered garden, overlooking rice fields; in a village about ten minutes drive from Ubud. There is a small swimming pool and numerous fish ponds-and hundreds of mosquitoes.
My ‘kitchen’ is outside this time (at least it’s not the bathroom), and so if I want to put the kettle on the ring or even get water from the fridge, I ran the gauntlet of geckos, ants, spiders, frogs. (It is so wet this evening they can’t tell the difference between ground and water) and…mosquitoes, oh deep joy, yet more bites.
I am using the mosquito net here; I know when I’m beaten.

Desert Island discoveries.

I am castaway on a desert island. GIli Air is the most beautiful, peaceful place I have ever seen. But, this is low season, so the few hotels and beachfront restaurants are shut or half empty; only the tiny village ‘stalls’ for (very overpriced) basics, and no boats!
The inter island shuttles aren’t running, the fast boats are unpredictable, and no one has a clue what’s going on, if anything. There is a public boat to Gili Trawangan twice a day, one at 8.30am and one at 3pm. Hopefully when I leave on the 15th, the donkey and cart will get me to the jetty in time for the morning boat, as I have to get to Gili T for my transfer back at 10.30 and the price of a charter water taxi for the 20 min crossing is more than the ticket back to Bali.
But there is timelessness here, as if the real world has not yet arrived. The lack of any TV, little internet access bar the odd wi-fi cafes, and the sense that, certainly at this time of year, there are more locals than tourists, and the island goes about its business of being self-sufficient. There is cattle everywhere, chickens-and children-running wild, coconuts palms swaying in the wind. Fires burn everywhere, filling the air with smoke, going outside to use the bathroom reminds me of Lewes on Nov 5th.
As I write this in the evening, I have balanced on wooden slats to stand under the tap outside for a ‘shower’, chased away the cockroach back up into the thatched roof abut me, swept the bed clean of moths, mosquitoes and assorted debris thrown down by the ceiling fan, put the flashlight on in case the power cuts out, and sprayed myself liberally with as much mossie spray as my sunburnt skin will take.
It is incredibly hot here, and despite my best endeavours, I am a wee bit red, though it may be an allergy to the amount of insect repellent and afterbite necessary to survive here. Last week the monsoon rains fell, so while I’m glad to miss them, the after effects have left the island a mini rain forest.
But it is also incredibly, incredibly, beautiful. Today I mastered the art of relaxation, albeit by accepting that for me this means moving. So I walked around the entire island on the beach, along washed up coral, and gazing at the clear seas lapping on the reef. The low tide meant I could walk alongside the waving fronds of the living coral, and see fish/marine life in the shallows.
I’d love to be able to dive/snorkel, but my ear drum won’t take the pressure, and seeing the ‘walking wounded’ is a salutary lesson to be careful swimming in the sea here (I’ve happy in the little pool surrounded by flowers here, even if I do have to scoop out the wasps etc as I swim). Despite warnings of jellyfish/urchins/sharp coral, the few people here seem to fling themselves into the water wherever; and today I lost count of those nursing cuts, stings and urchin bites!
So I wandered along gazing down into the waters instead, taking refuge in the shade under the palms –alongside the cattle-and watching the blue and green shades shift in the sunlight.
It is quiet enough here for me to be now instantly recognised by the stall holders and villagers of the island, as I’ve cycled and walked continually-luckily the network of paths always end up on the beach somewhere, as I’ve gone round in a circle a far bit!
The ‘homo aquatics’ divers from my boat ride greet me with great ceremony-turns out I am a ‘gay icon’ now as I have muscles and am ‘very strong’ . ….!
Tonight the unusually clear blue sky (normally there’s a heat haze here) threw up a spectacular sunset. The very low tide reflected the suns rays long after it had disappeared behind the volcano of the neighbouring island, streaks of gold spreading across the darkening sea and sands. The stars here seem very bright with no light pollution, as if I could reach up and catch one.  Staring up into the sky from the bathroom is certainly a unique experience!

Lombok from the jetty as the sun is setting

sunset on the shallows of the coral reef with volcano in background

The Art of Relaxing……….

Update on my developing skill set:
a) long leisurely breakfast, fresh fruit, pineapple pancake with honey, toast and jam, orange juice and Lombok coffee.
b) Slow cycle around the lanes of the islands, off road down tracks past cattle, women carrying buckets of goods on their heads, children in Muslim white at the school, babies bathing in buckets, men diving offshore with no equipment and bringing their catch of (very )large fish up for the family.
c) Swim in hotel pool. Sunbath. More swim.
d) Carrot/beet/ginger juice in beachfront café, whilst using wi-fi and admiring the sands and clear waters……………..

Rush Hour on Gili Air

Tomorrow I shall walk along the beach around the entire island. I could go ‘island hopping’ but Gili Air is a paradise of unspoilt lands and beaches, with little development other than by the jetty here where I am typing…at night, when darkness falls, there is total silence, apart from the wildlife……..and I’m ‘tuning’ them out now for peace of mind!

Life’s a beach’

037 run off the road by the donkey/cart!
017 view from the boat of Lombok (or 028 –with boat) from my free sail.
These thatched bamboo huts look beautiful, but what with the outside bathroom and the outside wildlife inhabiting the inside, it is a mit hard compared to western standards.
With hindsight, I turned these down in India, so my standards have definitely dropped, but in fairness in India rooms were cheap and plentiful, whereas on Gili Air rooms, whilst not in short supply given the season, are not cheap if not like this!
The whole island is low on water, power and generally everything. Food, bar fish, is twice the price of Bali, and hard to source outside the restaurants. I have found the village ‘warungs’ and the tiny market, and luckily breakfast is good. I am missing my deep fried treats, and craving fat!
The hardest part about this island, apart from the outside shower/loo, and see above….is that there is nothing to do.
The beach is so beautiful, and its mesmerising cycling round the island, seeing the coral washed up on the golden sands, admiring the boats,  pottering through the village waving to the locals -there is a tiny school here, and shops for the villagers, and a Mosque, they are Muslim here, which took me aback-is wonderful.
It is literally like being back into another world, with no TV, no internet (the odd wi-fi café, hence this getting to you all) and nothing going on. The local people just sit. Or they sleep. If I stop for refreshments, the staff will invariably be asleep on the floor. The beach bars are quiet; it seems a shame to wake them for a diet coke!
I am aware now how hard it is for me to relax and do nothing. I saw this too in India, especially in the backwaters, where I watched fascinated as people sat for hours on end, staring into the water. Hours would pass, and the boat would return along the same canal, and the same women or men would still be in the same place.
There I tried to cultivate the same art of calmness, tranquillity, and failed completely. I have learnt much about myself, but not how to stop. I have learnt that it’s fine to be nervous, even scared, and best to accept that as part of who I am, for every train, plane, bus, boat, but not to let it stop me. And I have learnt that a) anything is possible, and b) sometimes, it’s not worth doing things for the sake of it i.e. if the mind and spirit experience doesn’t overwhelm the body’s discomfort. So I’ve learnt to say yes, and I’ve learnt to say no.
Now again I’m trying to learn the art of meditation-tomorrow I shall not abandon the sunbed as soon as I have swum, but lie instead in the sun with my eyes closed.

Approaching the Gilis

 

Gili Air

The land that time forgot! Seriously, this island has no cars, no roads, even the paths, now I’ve hired the bike, turn out to be tracks. Here the main danger is  being run down by horse and cart, or running over the chickens, or simply going aground in the sand or down a pothole………
Amazingly, I wasn’t eaten alive last night, and breakfast was delightful, a freshly cooked pineapple pancake, fresh fruit, toasts and jam, coffee…a real surprise.
I wandered down to the harbour to hire a bike, and life took one of its turns, as whilst chatting to the staff who were loading the paid dive boat (all of one chap, its very quiet here), they said I could pop in and go along for the ‘ride’, gratis.
So seizing the moment, I abandoned newly hired bike, leapt into the boat, and spent a delightful two hours drifting in the seas around the Gilis, in the company of two young man wearing ‘Homo Divers’ t-shirts….
The seas are so clear and so calm and I’d love to dive, but can’t due to my ear, alas…still, I have perfected the art of swimming with my head up like a turtle, and the pool in the ‘hotel’, though tiny, is perfect.
There are more people descending on the island today, but cycling along through the village looking at the A frame shacks (with outside loos!) and green water logged fields with cattle grazing, street vendors selling fruit etc….even on the beach, apart from this restaurant bit by the harbour, there is a stillness and a quiet pervading the air, beautiful flowers everywhere, and simply time to do ……….nothing!

Mothers Day.

This is the strangest mother’s day of my life. Not least as I am so removed from UK life, I hadn’t realised it was today till I got the texts from home.
So as dawn broke in Sanur, I was in tears thinking of England and feeling very very homesick.
In true Indonesian style, the morning soon evaporated into chaos, as I was ushered into the wrong transfer for my transport to Gili Air…fortunately we realised before I ended up somewhere else entirely….and by 9am I and my luggage were wading through the waves to board the fast boat service.
Along with thousands of others………..Nepyi, the Day of Silence, in Bali, means no one can go outside from dawn to dusk, so its not just westerners escaping, many of the locals were taking the chance to nip off for a few days. Even the atms shut for 48 hours. Consequently, despite low season, the boat was literally heaving, very low in the water, in rough waves.

But the gods were on our side, and three very rough and very noisy stomach churning hours later, I was finally unloaded onto the sands at Gili Air. I knew this place was tiny, but had no idea how so…no cars, no roads, no nothing much, other than spectacular scenery broken only by villages and the odd ‘hotel’.
‘Odd’ being an apt description for this one….having had the usual hassle with the donkey and cart transport to get my luggage up off the beach and through the tiny lanes (its all of 5 minutes walk but cost me 50,000 rupees, still for £3 worth it not to struggle in the heat, the poor donkey looked exhausted, bless him) this ‘hotel’ is a collection of huts, built in traditional Lombok style.
This means a) straw roofs b) mosquitoes everywhere, and no way to attach a net (though there is air/con, so I’m hoping that will blow them away, though as I type its not doing a very good job, and I’m covered in DEET) and……………
An outside bathroom!

The Bathroom!

And I mean outside; you open the back door of the shack, and there’s the loo, and the shower, open to the elements….luckily not overlooked, but ……………
I had a ‘moment’. Several, actually. But it does look as if most of the island is similarly constructed, unless one goes high end, which I’m not, so I’m stuck with it. So I’ve clambered over the stones and had a shower in the dark, fighting off the mossies….slightly concerned about what will meet me in the night when I’m bound to have to venture out, but I have taken the precaution of getting a torch from reception.
There is a tiny pool, which was lovely and did help lift my spirits. The island is beautiful. I walked along the beach front watching the sun set over the hills and volcanoes of Lombok and the neighbouring Gillis, dodging piles of coral washed up on the sands, and watching the fishermen and the water taxis at work,
It’s only 8.30, but there is no TV, no radio, and nothing to do, which freaks me out slightly-so much of my travels have been manic, and exhausting, and even the last week in Sanur, and the beach time in Goa, I had plans, places to see, even a little TV to occupy my mind in the evenings…the silence here is weird.
It’ll be interesting to see if and how, I can actually stop, and whether I can really do nothing…it’ll be good to have a chance to reflect and go through my memories of the last few months before they fade. At the minute I’m preoccupied with getting malaria, tonight will be an interesting experience!

Special days in Sanur.

My final day in Sanur coincided with the ceremonies to mark the three day start of the Nepyi celebration. This evening crowds of Balinese Hindus gathered in their white outfits on the beach, spreading as far as the eye could see, from tiny babies to elderly women.
Dotted along the beach were enormous ‘altars’ of gold, silver, red, full of sculptures and masks of ward and wonderful puppets, massive figures with distorted features.
Throughout the day locals had been throwing offerings into the sea, so the air was full of the smell of incense, and flowers floated in the shallows. At sunset prayers began (watching from the sidelines, I was amused to see among the worshippers many on mobile phones, texting away, and others smoking heavily between throwing up their hands in prayer).
The holy water was liberally distributed, and then the altars, as if by magic, were lifted on a wave of hands, and the procession began. Above the crowds luminous figures carried aloft marched through the town, surrounded by colourful umbrellas and lit by lamps.
It was a truly magical end to a beautiful place. Tomorrow I leave for Gill Air, but as I cycled back under the stars watching the superb red glow of the evening sky fade into darkness, I wish I was staying here, where for the first time since leaving home I have felt relaxed and ‘at home’.