SUMBAWA & BEYOND

And so it continues…We landed in Sumbawa to be met by donkey drawn carts which add to the other forms of transport trying to use the roads and in the towns of Sumbawa and Lombok. These are like taxis and mainly used by locals (not tourists - there are few of these or “normal” taxis here).

We were also met by the Princess of Bad Roads (I think I owe an apology to some author for that). And she was so bad at times we laughed. We did a lot of laughing, as we tried this way and that, this speed and that in a sort of loose dance with others trying to do the same, only to be met by huge potholes within the broken up surface (“Dad, you got every one of those” was Will‘s accurate but unwelcome assessment of a particularly bad set of ‘holes.)

The hotels come and go, always for a one night stand. Cold water is the norm, non-operating toilet cisterns and showers now the reality. We welcome the mandi (imagine a large trough about the size of a washing machine), to ladle water from for daily necessities like flushing toilets and showering. Mainly a fan but for a few tens of thousands more (don’t forget about Rp 7,500 is got for a dollar), we welcome air. I don’t suppose one can really complain - rooms with all the ‘cons above come for around AUD10 and 20. And there is more - free wake up calls to prayer as early as 4.30am from the local mosque.

Now I have been abandoned - yes Will has banished me to my own hotel in Bali, while he and girlfriend Lauren while away the time surfing and ‘biking around Kuta for a few days. Oh well, such is life as Ned said (Will left me holding the baby (I mean car) in Kuta as he tried to find Lauren on the late afternoon of our arrival in Bali - some hours of traffic jams later totally lost in the dark, I thankfully find an (expensive) hotel). I have now shifted to more appropriate accommodation called Ned’s Hideaway on a gang (lane) in upmarket Seminyak (not bad for AUD15).

My first taste of Bali was horrible but as I settle in I can hardly ignore the delicate and colourful Hindu offerings underfoot with incense smoking wistfully away, or in unlikely niches in gate posts and walls, as well as in more formal settings. This daily practice seems at odds with the extraordinary commercialism just everywhere (at dinner last night three different spruikers walked in to try to sell to reluctant diners). This is Bali to a tee...

Will and I leave tomorrow for Java.