Day 4, Oct 13

Day break came with bird, rooster, and goat noises, and a slight breeze through the palms which sounded a bit like the surf.  The mosque chants seemed to also be on vacation now.  Kimiko got up early and went running and made some friends in the businesses.  The normally busy streets were empty this morning, and a few people had their best clothes for the end of Ramadan.

Commuting on Gili Trawangan

We found a place for breakfast, had nice unfiltered coffee with fried egg.  Most locals were out on holiday, a few left behind – either highly paid (like our boat workers) or forced to work due to penalty we speculated from the attitude of our breakfast server.

Our 1st dive was off Shark Point.  This was on the western side of the island, and on our boat ride out, we saw the towering 10,000 foot volcano on the island of Bali in the distance.  It looked a bit like Mount Fuji from this 30 mile distance and was quite a spectacle.  It last erupted in 1963 killing 1,000 people.  I read that if you climb it, you must start at midnight as it clouds up quickly in the daytime.

The 10,000 foot Bali Volcano lies between the onlookers

After they let the divers go, Kimiko and I went in with snorkels.  I immediately saw a 4 foot long shark cruising below us at a depth of 15 feet.  I tried to signal to Kimiko “Shark!  Shark!”, but she missed it.  Seeing a shark in the wild is much different than the aquarium, the feeling is that I am a visitor in its world/territory and not too welcome or a nuisance to it.  Well, after this experience, all the small fish looked boring- I had to find more sharks.  A green sea turtle gracefully fluttering its legs swam by us.  Thankfully, turtles don’t swim as fast as sharks, so we got a good extended view.

We came ashore and found Kaori.  She was flown into Lombok and driven and boated up to Gili.  We now had everyone in our clan of seven.

Kaori joins us a day later

We ordered lunch from the restaurant patio, the gentleman we ordered from behind the bar seemed to easily get confused with adding.  Like the John Belushi/Dan Akroid SNL “Cheeburger” skit, we ended up sounding (chanting?) out each item repeatedly to indicate quantity.  After 20 minutes, nothing seemed to be happening to our food order, and our next dive time was approaching.  Several inquired about our lunch, the gentleman we ordered from said it’s gotten very busy and he hadn’t started it yet.  Two other parties also had not received their food.  There is the concept of ‘island time’ meaning time is just a suggestion or guideline not to be followed.  This goes for our dive time and food service.  After another 15 minutes, food started coming out, not exactly what we ordered, and we found it was mixed up with other orders.  Probably all prepared by a 9-year old boy in the backroom. I was starved, so Alan gave me half his chicken, lettuce, and tomato sandwich, Kimiko shared most of her Nise Goreng (chicken and rice) with me.  I went up later to pay, nowhere was it written down what we ordered.  We filled out the ticket ourselves – again, the honor system.  While it is not efficient and very confusing, and not customer friendly, the gentleman behind the bar to his credit apologized profusely to me for the order being late (I never got mine), and said it was too much at once for them to handle, which was a grand total of probably 3 separate orders.  I smiled and said I was on vacation and not in any hurry.  We shook hands, and he promised to take good care of us later.  I ordered the Indonesian lunch for the next day, to which they seemed to be proud I took an interest.  I felt good in a way – at home, I’d be all over them and irate.  But like the shark today, I am in their territory and visiting, so I’d better be thankful that I am even here to experience it or I could be bitten.

Later, we learned in their native language, that repeating a noun did not imply quantity like in English. For example, "Water, Water" would not mean 2 waters, but in their language it would mean "ocean" or "lake".  For verbs it's similar:  "Jarang" which means "to walk" in Balinese, but "Jarang, Jarang" in Balinese means "to go around town", not a "hurry up" like implied in English meanings.  No doubt our word repetition ordering lunch confused them.   We might have accidentally said something like "We'll just go around the ocean" when we really wanted to order 2 waters quickly.  Lost in Translation missed out - this was much funnier.

The 2nd dive was in shallow coral for us, an endless aquarium of parrot fish and angle fish.  Schools of smaller fish would come and rain around us.  We drifted maybe a mile or so, I had trouble with fog in my mask which I brought from the States.  My mask consisted of prescription lenses.  Later, I learned Kimiko’s could spit into the mask and it kept it from fogging.  My spit wouldn’t work for some reason.

Par let me kindly borrow his camera, I couldn’t see what I was shooting, so I just ‘shot from the hip’ with lots of frames, 98 total, hoping to capture this experience on digital film.  Most of them were bad, except a few body shots of Kimiko and Kaori.

Leaving the boat, Tanya slipped and made a hard fall near the engine with her ankle.  Later, it would swell up and turn black.  However, it did not stop her from diving or other activities, with the possible exception of an interruption during her massage later in Bali.

Today was nice and cool – no A/C required.  Windy in the afternoon, white caps coming in from 2nd dive made the landing difficult.

Dining at “The Beach House” restaurant, which was essentially a seafood grill,  Par ordered a tasty 750 gram Indonesian lobster.  These lobsters had no large front claws – the meat was all in the tail, and the butterfly cut was done before grilling, and they put some tasty garlic-butter sauce on them. 

Walking home on “the strip”, we had pitch black skies full of stars.  The place on the night horizon where the water meets the sky is hard to find since both water and sky are almost black – you have to see where the stars disappear, and that is the water.  I did see on the eastern horizon, a faint glow, maybe the width of my outstretched hand.  It was like a large city of 500,000 or more was 100 miles away to the east.  However, there was nothing in this direction except maybe a few very small islands.  I figured this light must be the Zodiac light – it comes from the solar system disk where all the planets were formed and still has a small amount of dust present that glows from the sunlight.  I’ve never seen it before, and only in places like this have I heard it’s visible.  Overhead, we saw a bright Milky Way galaxy.  I spent 45 minutes trying to photograph it with a 30-second extended exposure from my camera.

 

 

 

 

Day3,  Oct 12
We awoke at Hotel Indigo and were driven down to the boat docks near the eastern side Kuta where we’d catch a fast transport to the Gili Islands .  On our way, we enjoyed seeing a small family on a motor scooter.  The 2-year old child was sandwiched in backward between its mother and father – some car seat.  The child had these big eyes looking at us with wonder on his face.  


Crossing a bridge onto Serangan Island (also called Turtle Island), it got noticeably trashier everywhere.  Finally we reached the boats – a very primitive and filthy place overall, and interestingly, a freshly white painted building sported a sign pronouncing this was the “Royal Bali Yacht Club”.   The only thing “Royal” about it was the blue colored lettering on their sign.  Despite the unsightly muck, friendly people greeted us, asked where we were from (my first mistake was to open my mouth), I asked to take a photo of a kid with corn cob.  Then, this greeting party went through a metamorphosis and turned into pushy trinket sellers equipped with beads and turtle carvings.  I felt obligated to buy something from the woman with the child (my second mistake was to say “How much for this?” - I was robbed for $10 and hounded repeatedly as I helplessly waiting for something to happen so we could  load our luggage onto the boat. One gentleman put a turtle carving on my thigh; trying to confuse me into thinking it was a gift to gauge my interest.  Back to my first mistake – asking where you are from; this technique was used to set a price well in advance of the sale.  They know a bit of Japanese, and my wife’s nationality no doubt increases the price.  Mine, well, if I don’t say anything, they can’t tell I am from the US which is also bad for price.  I figured I should say I am Iranian in an accent, which would no doubt make them go to someone else and not waste their time with me, or at least counter the Japanese uplift.


Finally, we got ferried out by a small boat with an engine that sounded like a weedeater.  The much larger powerboat, called the “Mahi Mahi” would make the long crossing to the Gili islands just off Lombok.  A frightening sight for us, we passed a small boat with 4 fishermen, and 1 was wearing a white motorcycle helmet.  The fish here must be dangerous, perhaps a cross between steel nose and those flying fish.


The crossing was almost 3 hours, and with my GPS tracking our progress and speed, it relieved some of the boredom.   It got bumpy in the open channel as we left the island of Bali behind, and the boat kept slowing on the rough waters.  When asked how much longer to Gili, I always said “about 30 minutes”.  It got to be a joke after awhile.  I got a strong back massage lying down and leaning my back against the wooden boat railing – the ocean chop pounded into by back and felt good in a way. 


Gili Trawangan, our destination came into sight.  It was about a mile long, and half mile wide.  This island paradise was the most remote island in a 3 island chain from the island of Lombok, which itself was removed from the more commercial island of Bali, which itself was a remote island for Indonesia, and Indonesia is a remote corner of the world – so 5 remotes total ensured total isolation.  I was away from it all, and did not expect to see Starbucks here.
We waded ashore to a large sign with a sunbathing woman’s silhouette saying “No naked in this swim area”.  Being visitors, it’s nice they come out and say what they don’t want the decadent infidels to do on their land; I can think of how this instructive spirit might be helpful in other places.  No cars were on this island – only bikes and pony-drawn carts.  There was only one road (‘like the ‘strip’) on the eastern side of the island, with small shops, huts, and restaurants lining the road.  No police were on this island, which we believed to be a good sign of an uncorrupted society.

Our rooms were not ready yet, so we went for lunch.  We went to Cocos where many ordered bacon lettuce, and tomato with fried eggs baguettes, I ordered the vegetarian quiche.  All were tasty.  Eating an uncooked salad leaf, I took a risk – it turned out fine.  Looking across the blue water channel to the next island, we saw the white sand shores of Gili Meno.  The boats in the channel, consisting of dive parties and people ferries to Lombock, seemed to be in no hurry.

We checked into our bungalows.  Surrounded by beautiful flower gardens, these bungalows were almost works of art in themselves:  an elevated wood teak planked floor, with carved wood ribbed joists supporting a straw roof.  The bungalow contained a queen sized bed with a back door leading to a step-down outdoor bathroom area with 10-foot high walls.  From the bathroom, the palm trees towered over, the shower area was fashionably lined with volcanic stones and rocks.  The exotic but comfortable atmosphere came devoid of telephone, TV, or internet.  Reading the room guide, they wisely did not allow smoking in the room due to the flammability of the bungalow; a said fire extinguisher was to the right of the front door – I found this was missing in the bungalows.  The refrigerator was well stocked, but later to be found with the thermostat turned all the way down and unplugged.  The bedside table had a defective power cord that had to be wiggled to get light – now where was that fire extinguisher?  The room had a Japanese style A/C hanging on the wall with remote control.  Running water was not always coming out of the faucets; we had to get the staff to turn on the pump to hoist water up into the water tower since there was no automatic water level switch to know when the water tower gets low, and the staff seemed unable to anticipate the tank getting low when people come back from dives to shower off.
I befriended the only 24-hour staff person,  Ismail, maybe 12-15 years old who worked in the place.  Later, he’d help us deal with the local merchants as there was an ‘honor’ system of rentals of gear – you just told them where you were staying, and you needed no deposit or paperwork.  Ismail help us with some repair work later with Kaori’s lights. 




While renting snorkel and fins across the street, the teenage boy renting us the equipment asked where we were from, and not wanting to repeat this mistake of saying where I was from before the price was presented, I simply told him “Santa Cruz” to try and throw him off, then he shockingly offered us marijuana.  I don’t know if it was coincidental or he knew the reputation of our little paradise on the Central California coast.  I suppose the lack of police on this island makes them brave to challenge their death penalty.

The island was teaming with people from Australia, New Zealand, Sweden, Germany, and a few from Korea, Japan, and France.  Not many if any Americans.  The dive center seemed to be run by 20-somethings out of Australia and was very laid back.
Another group filling the island was the feline nation of cats.  The island is full of inbred cats resulting in crooked tails.  At our dive center alone, the scrawny cats would meow constantly at us for food.  Where are the dogs?  The Muslim influence here shunned the dogs, thus the cats.  It seemed out of balance, and Par was allergic to cats.
Our 1st Dive that afternoon was a packed boat, wonderful water, coral, and fish.  A bit of a dream world - the water was crystal clear, the coral bright and alive, and on the surface white sand beaches framed the warm blue waters between the islands.  


After showering, we enjoyed gin and tonics from the deck of Alan/Tanya’s bungalow, then had dinner at a place called Scallywags.  We ordered every small plate on the menu to the surprise of the staff.  They managed to bring almost all out at once.  We saw places where you could sit on an elevated mat above the beach, get drinks and watch movies.  Even a place with Hookah’s on the beach.  We saw these signs for “magic mushrooms” – again, is this due to no police on the island? 

An evening parade/procession came down the streets- people with lanterns and torches, a loudspeaker being carried on a gondola with pounding drums taking up the tail.  It seemed it was a local-inspired ceremony.  We couldn’t make out the words coming form the loudspeaker, but wondered.  We stayed out of their parade and just watched.

All afternoon, evening, and middle of the night, the local Mosque calls came through our thatched roofs.  It was the end of Ramadan, and passion echoed from the preacher’s voice.  Par later commented that he could not understand a word, but the tone seemed almost angry or hateful - not poetic or musical.

Day 2 - Oct 11, 2007
I stayed on the plane in Hong Kong – a familiar place for me – both the city/airport and now the plane - and the flight resumed in 90 minutes to Singapore.  For me, this was my first time into Singapore, so here on out, uncharted waters lie ahead.  This flight was much less crowded, and I switched seats to a window with nobody next to me, tried the GPS part of my phone in-flight but was unsuccessful.  I landed Singapore 3 hours later, and pleasantly found my wife on Skype; I called her on my cell phone, and arranged a meeting time and place at the airport.  I then called Par, confirmed the meeting time/location.
 
At approximately 2:30 pm, the whole group less Kaori met for the first time; Alan and Tanya from Reno, Nevada; Par and Elizabeth from Singapore; Mathew and Kimiko from Santa Cruz, CA.  We all shared in a coffee and bought a couple more wine bottles.  Upon leaving Singapore, I spotted a few others who came over from San Francisco.  One woman was headed for Bali, and started out in Detroit earlier.  We assisted her with the paperwork as she seemed very inexperienced at travel and was frightened.  I noted on the customs declaration form for Indonesia that drugs results in ‘Death’.  Interestingly, it didn’t say death from the hands of the State or the effect of drugs itself.  I carefully checked the box saying I wasn’t carrying any illegal drugs, as I packed a very extensive medical kit copied over from the Lonely Planet guidebook– I found it to be the most paranoid travel guide.
Flying over the Indonesian archipelago at sunset, we saw our first “I’ve never seen that before” – a volcano in the distance with the steam/smoke plumes like a mushroom silhouetted against the red post-sunset sky.  I later learned this was Mt. Kelud on the island of Java, it was showing signs of am imminent eruption and the government ordered evacuations.

With my new GPS gadget attachment to my phone, I was able to track the planes location, and as we approached Bali, the city lights showed the destination against the dark ocean below.  It was dimly lit, almost a calm appearance in this remote part of the world, with no signs of brightly lit shopping centers, auto malls, or commercial centers.  If they had Starbucks, it would be by candlelight.

We were greeted by a gentleman who expected our arrival; he took our passports with some cash and disappeared while we got our luggage.  He returned with our passports with a full page taken up with a visa.  We’ve noticed the poorer the country, the larger their visa, perhaps an expression of self-importance.  The same gentleman arranged customs for our imported liquor; we never found out if the tariff paid actually went to the government, or was simply a bribe to the agents.  Considering the manner they behaved, it most likely was the later.

Exchanging currency, I cashed in $750 US for over 6 million rupiahs.  The smallest bills were 100,000 rupiahs worth roughly $10 each, so I received a rather large stack of bills, approximately 2 inches high which I quickly buried in my travel pouch.

Two pre-arranged drivers transported us to Hotel Indigo  – a charming boutique hotel, and were greeted with a refreshing cold drinks, like a fruit tea.  Kaori was supposed to arrive several hours later on the late flight from Singapore, but the hotel desk informed us he got a call from her 10 minutes earlier, and it seems she missed her flight.  She would leave the next day and be 24 hours behind us.  This created a small problem for our travel guide, Phil, who was in charge of getting us all to the dive center on Gili Trawangan.  Since Ramadan was coming to and end, the last 2 days of Ramadan don’t have any local services – it’s like Chistmas and New Years together.  This meant there would be no boats to the islands tomorrow – Kaori would be stuck in Bali.  Phil confidently said he’d find a way to get her out there one way or the other.

We were all tired and hungry, so we walked 10 minutes along a dimly lit road where we found an outdoor café, the kind near a crossroads with motor scooters going by constantly like pesky flies.  The proprietor turned out to be a  proud Italian woman from Naples, so Indonesian food would have to wait.   I ordered Spaghetti Pomodoro – the pasta tasted quite nice.  We enjoyed clams for an appetizer – this would be the first of many meals shared together.  The motor scooters along with the loud western music from the restaurant loudspeakers seemed to help kept my jetlag at bay.

Bali in 2007 – Trip Diary
M. Shafe’


Day 1, Oct-10, 2007
Leaving alone from San Francisco for this 8300-mile journey, we planned this trip months in advance, and all seven of us were looking forward to a 10-day vacation in Indonesia - the Gili Islands and Bali, Indonesia.  We were all looking for different and exotic experiences, and 2 of the couples were looking forward to some underwater scuba adventures. 

My wife Kimiko, departed a week earlier and made stops in Japan and Singapore.  Next to being away from my wife, the toughest part was encasing 12 bottles of wine for the trip in my luggage.  Wine, which we all enjoyed, was scarce in predominantly Muslim Indonesia and extremely expensive, so we decided to pack our own.  It turned out to be a fortunate match and completed our exquisite meals we were served later in Bali.

My flight took 14 hours to reach Hong Kong , and I counted the hours down as they packed the plane dense like my luggage.  Making for a very uncomfortable flight, a broad shouldered person was seated next to me in a middle seat and was not considerate of my paltry space the airline provided me; I had to put a pillow between us to avoid being ‘tapped’ all the time by his elbow.  A few movies eased the flight monotony, including the latest terrorist saga of Die Hard, and a Ben Kingsley flick of a hard working mafia alcoholic hit-man sent out of New York to San Francisco to get away from it all.