cocks and thongs (and not in a good way)
it's sad how much the bombings in bali have affected tourism in indonesia as a whole. the sheer number of cafes, bars, and tour operators belie how busy senggigi beach expects to be: the drawn shutters and disappointed, almost desperate, faces forcibly demonstrate the difference between expectation and reality. still, it does mean that stretches of beach which are easily beautiful enough to be crowded with tourists are gloriously secluded, and you can hear the serene sound of the ocean lapping against the shore as the cloud covered gunung agung, the largest and holiest peak in bali, looms in the horizon across the lombok strait.
there are still some tourists in the exclusive hotels, who have their own little stretches of beach with fancy shacks and liveried waiters. they get a lot of stick for the socks and sandals look, and rightly so, but there is also a worrying trend amongst affluent, tubby, german men that suggests they think that a g-string is acceptable beachwear. i really think the international community should act: i'd happily give up our eu rebate if they passed a law that would protect british retinae from having a leathery teutonic buttock emblazed upon them.
although i haven't done much, senggigi's actually been quite good fun for me. the scarcity of other travellers, and my propensity for chatting shit with people rather than running away when they try to sell me stuff, means that in the space of a day i can no longer walk to the beach without having my name shouted out and being stopped for a chat by a variety of random indos. they're all good fun, and i got quite nailed on lombok wine with them last night: it comes in a plastic jug, i'm presuming it doesn't cost much, you drink it in shots, and it's deadly... silliness.
my attempts to sleep it off were severely hampered by the resident cockrels. i'm no biologist, but i thought these bastards only crowed at dawn... as opposed to all day, and all night, from 2am to 10pm. fuckers, bring on the bird flu, that's what i say.
mataram
mataram is the capital of lombok, the small island just east of bali. it's very much an administrative centre: there's not really much to see, and consequently not many travellers here not to see it. still, it's blessed with space, which is a relief after the manic hustle of the majority of asian cities, and is an ideal place to sort out the logistics of my journey out to flores. there's only one ferry a fortnight that far east, and somewhat luckily it leaves this monday. sadly it means i won't have time to do the three day trek up gunung rinjani before i go, so i'll have to hope that the rainy season holds off for a couple more weeks: there were dark clouds overhead today though so i'm not hopeful. gutting.
the joy of being on an archipelago is that pristine beaches are never far away, so i'm going to kill the next few days on the white sand of sengiggi.
beach cowboys
kuta has got some unexpectedly quaint touches; startling balinese dragon heads peering out from behind the neon signs, flower offerings to hindu gods placed outside every roadside stall, and haircuts for considerably less than the obscene amount i paid in mumbai. it remains however little more than a package holiday resort, and not really my kind of place.
i did however spend a hilarious afternoon lazing on kuta beach yesterday. wherever i go in south east asia, i'm an object of interminable curiousity to the locals... whatever i choose to respond to the inevitable 'mister, where you from' is never fully believed: i don't talk like an indian, but don't look like i'm english ('you english? you spend too long in sun?') it does mean that i get involved in quite a bit of banter with people as they work me out, and yesterday i got adopted by a gang of the young indonesian lads that work the beach. these guys are legends, spending all day lying on the beach, surfing, and hitting on the ladies. they think that western tourists are the easiest in the world, and with good reason. it's amazing how many middle aged ladies are so easily convinced that some perfectly formed twenty one year old youth has fallen in love with them after a couple of hours of formulaic flattery. i spent a cracking afternoon comparing notes on different nationalities (these boys have got pretty much the complete set between them), watching them brazenly hit on anything that moved ('younger ones pretty but older ones more money'), kicking a football about on the beach, and generally taking it easy whie admiring the audacity of the guys.
all good fun but off to lombok tomorrow, hopefully to find some more inspiration and get back on the proper travelling trail.
above the clouds
the drive to cemero lawang, a small village on the slopes of gunung bromo, was a long one, not helped by the fact that our minivan (ac must be bahasa for outrageously hot) kept breaking down: you have to admire the audacity of a man who is holding a handful of electrical cables, yanked from behind the dashboard, in his hand as we stagnate by the roadside, yet still can grin back at his passengers and continually repeat, without a hint of irony, 'no problem, no problem'. by the time we arrived it was 10pm, and cemero was fast asleep for the night.
the fun didn't end there: this was the friday night after id ul mubarrak, and swarms of holidaying indonesians had descended on the village, and its paltry four guesthouses. rooms were scarce, and hilariously overpriced. by the time i staggered into my grotty little bed, having got the price down to $5 for a room that wasn't really fit for occupation (in lonely planet lexicon, 'homely' means fleapit) it was nearly 11.30, and i was shattered.
my two hours sleep didn't really seem like much when i got up at 2am for my hike to the top of gunung penanjankan, a volcano overlooking bromo. most people get jeeps, but i like my morning walks so i set off in the pitch black. the lack of moonlight from the thin sliver in the sky meant i was blessed with a glorious canopy of stars above: it also meant that the climb, tricky enough as it is, was remarkably hazardous by the light of my $1 cambodian torch. still, i was feeling pretty happy when the track spat me out onto the road just below the summit two hours later: my mood was immediately darkened however by the scene that confronted me. the joy of an arduous sunrise hike is that few people can be bothered to replicate your efforts, and you can enjoy the sunrise in blissful serenity... unless there is an easy, jeep option, in which case the place is rammed with people, none of whom have made any effort to get there, and can't appreciate your need for some peace and reflection. bloody tourists.
despite this however, the sunrise was amazing... as the area gradually lightens you look down onto a huge flat lava plain, from which rises two volcanoes, both overlooked by the huge, smoking, gunung seneru in the background. beneath this view are decks of white clouds, a sign of how high you are, slowly illuminated by the rising sun. an awesome, almost prehistoric, landscape, that not even the hordes behind me could ruin. the hike back was glorious too: stunning views around every corner. i hadn't even been able to see the outlines of these imposing peaks on the way up, which just shows how dark it had been. i arrived back at about 8am, and made arrangements for the journey to bali. i may return on my way back to java next month when hopefully it will be a lot quieter.
it took along time to get to kuta beach, a journey invloving hilariously cramped public buses, one of which i almost tumbled out of when i fell asleep in my seat right by the open door, and ferries, and by the time i arrived at midnight i was dying of fatigue. i don't really like the place: it's too full of people, basically an australian tenerife, english football and burgers. still, i need to rest a bit after last week, which got pretty strenuous, and it's the best place to sort out travel tickets, so i'm going to vegetate here for a few days before heading east to a truer indonesia.
