balinese bohemian: Venturing Eastward

I awoke hot and sticky in the small cabin on the ferry to Lombok. I must have passed out from drinking Bintangs and feeling a little queasy from the sway of the ocean and the overpowering stench of gasoline from the boat motor. We still had a little over an hour left so I found a seat on the deck where I could take in the sea and fresh air. The boys threw out their fishing lines and trolled from the upper deck of the boat as we neared the tiny undeveloped harbor of Lembar. The contrast of Lembar against Padangbai reflected the difference between Bali and Lombok; we were about to get super ruralized. We made our way back down to the Kijang, where we loaded in and disembarked the ferry.

Kuta, a village on the south shore was our destination due to it's laid-back vibe in comparison to the rest of the island. As we made our way through the countryside, the Islam faith become more and more prevalent. Every few minutes we passed a mosque, and village after village we saw the ominous dome structure with loud speakers blaring, women covered head to toe, men and boys wearing prayer caps. Along the way, we stopped for young coconuts from an ibu, old woman, who skillfully cracked them open with her machete. After about another hour of driving, we made a stop for an early dinner at a roadside cafe. Here was the first (and last) time I had Lombok kopi (coffee). Simply hot water mixed with grounds to create a caffeinated sludge- I imagined it was what drinking mud was like. During this meal, I had another introduction- to my first real Indonesian toilet. The previous week in Bali afforded me the luxury of Western toilets but here in rural Lombok, it was a whole different story. I walked into the bathroom, a tiled room with what looked similar to a toilet bowl set in the floor and a bucket of water. I figured out that I had to squat over the toilet and after finishing, use a scoop of water to "flush." The poured water created enough pressure to open a trap in the bottom of the bowl and into the ground. Pretty archaic stuff but I had to go before we hopped in the car again.

After maybe another forty minutes in the Kijang, we arrived in Kuta, a little, quiet coastal village with chickens and goats meandering through the streets. The four of us decided to share a two-bed room where Dom kindly volunteered to sleep on the floor. The next morning the guys headed off to check the surf while Sandra and I decided to check out the shops across the street. This is where we met our local charity-case. After walking the beach, we stopped to buy some water from a warung, a family-run shop selling snacks and such. Sedi, the woman running it seemed nice enough, running the business while cradling her baby boy, Dadi. But in typical Indonesian fashion, our casual conversation turned into us buying more water, then food and finally sarongs. Considering we were paying mere pennies for these items, we went along with Sedi's coaxing. The fabric, locally woven songkets, were made with silver and gold thread and sewn end to end so that one could wear it in Sasak fashion, folded to fit ones waist and tucked over on top. Sedi asked us where we were staying and later that afternoon found us in the hotel parking lot asking if she could get us anything else. She had mini pineapples that she carved up so that holding the stalk we could eat them like an ice cream cone. At seven cents a pop, I could eat ten of these a day! This would be the first of many dozen times Sedi would show up wherever we were, hawking us anything she could.

Later in the evening, Sandra and I decided to go horseback riding on the beach as the boys chartered a boat to take them to an outer swell. We hopped a couple scooter taxis and rode to a horse ranch a few miles outside Kuta. Our ride took us through a huge all-inclusive resort complete with beach-front dinner and dance performance. The hotel seemed so removed from the reality and culture of the island, in fact, it reminded me so much of Hawaii. Staged "cultural" entertainment for the "haole" tourists. It made me kind of sad, that a place so remote was still tainted by tourism but I also understood that it was a way to stimulate local economy. 'Tis the double-edged sword of tourism. I never really got into that all-inclusive style of traveling, I always tried to experience other cultures more authentically. Riding on the beach, we saw villagers in the distance harvesting seaweed and as the sun set, I felt truly blessed for this experience.