Love Is In The Gili Air

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For the past two days the island has been atwitter with the news of a wedding scheduled to take place today. Karen and I had been made aware of this when a half dozen islanders personally invited us to the nuptials. Even if we hadn’t been invited the recent slaughter of a cow and the steady stream of Indonesians arriving from Lombok by boat would have clued us in that something big was going on. Soop our waiter, repairman and all round go-to guy took us to the village at 9:30 AM. We walked through the rear of the hotel where a well-trodden path led us to a large L-shaped open tent. Next to the tent a dozen women cooked in large pots over open fire trenches. A molehill of coconut husks rapidly gaining mountainous proportion lay to the side of a pair of fill pits. Canvas walls bisected the tent into male and female areas as the tent was set up to act as a temporary Mosque. A large group of saronged and skull capped men saw my approach and immediately made space for me amongst them. Karen was led to the women’s’ section where I later spied her on a chair. A solitary figure at the edge of a veiled sea. The Imam started the service by reciting the Koran. I sat cross-legged on the tarp floor and searched the worshipers for clues on how to act during what was for me a brand new cultural experience. Hands extended with wrists on knees and thumb and forefinger joined in the ohm position. As the Koran was read the men would say Amen in unison. There were so many Amens said that it sounded like a bible thumper tent revival. At the end of the tent on a raised dais sat a small-upholstered love seat bracketed by two ornamental umbrellas and floral arrangements. A gold curtain hung behind the dais giving the area an air of privacy. At the end of prayers waiters flooded the tent with large platters of food and drink. A man to my right over-filled my plate with rice, vegetable curry, spices and beef donated by the cow that had paid the ultimate price for the celebration. Fresh beef is very difficult to find in Indonesia. I ate much and it was very good. With plate balanced in my left hand I mimicked my co-diners by using my fingers to mix the food on my plate into a homogenous mass which I then undeftly formed into bite sized balls and right-handedly tossed into my mouth. These guys eat fast. At least they’re faster than a forkless foreigner. Before I was half-finished, cereal sized bowls of rolling tobacco and papers were passed around for a post-dinner smoke. The men rolled six-inch coffin nail spliffs, which were quickly lit. Within minutes we found ourselves sitting under heavy Mosque overcast. As we relaxed small girls spied on us through rips in the temporary walls. A wave of an old man’s finger made them disappear. It was a hot day but a cool beach breeze blew through the tent. The men lounged contentedly and repeatedly asked me if I needed anything. I was officially in the club and I was feelin’ mighty fine.

Later I joined Karen on the ladies side. The leftovers from their box lunches were strewn about the ground and the flattened cardboard boxes had been converted into rough fans. The beating of cellulose butterfly wings filled the air. There was no beach breeze on the ladies side. An unshaded and closed house with a corrugated metal roof stood adjacent to the picnic area. Through the windows I caught sight of the bride and her entourage as they dabbed beads of sweat from their faces struggling to keep their makeup intact before the ceremony. The joint was packed. It seemed as if everyone on the island was here. In Indonesian society a wedding is a big deal. The entire procedure is a closely adhered to three month process which in this case was ending today with the consummation of the marriage. The bride’s father is responsible for the costs of the festivities as well as payment to the Groom’s father. Here in Gili Air the groom marries into the bride’s family and becomes son to her father. As the women fanned themselves small girls in their Sunday best contented themselves with Popsicle’s. This was the first hard evidence I had seen of a freezer anywhere on the island.

Soop asked us to come to his house a short walk away. In actuality it is the home of his father-in-law where Soop resides with his wife and two sons. There is another daughter living there with her husband and two children in addition to the grandparents. A total of ten people in a two bedroom home of about 800 square feet. There is no furniture save for two mattresses set upon the concrete floor in one of the bedrooms. A threadbare blue carpet decorates the living room. The walls are bare except for a half dozen 8x10 photographs hung inches from the ceiling as if the home’s occupants were planning on eventually filling the house with large armoires and wanted to save the trouble of moving the pictures. All cooking is done outdoors over a small fire. We sat on the floor with the family. We talked with Soop’s brother-in-law as he entertained his baby daughter on his lap. In the other room a small group of women watched videos on their cell phones. Cell phones are the Indonesian equivalent of a home entertainment system. The natives download and pass around videos constantly. They are deep into Benny Hill style two-minute slapstick comedies. Last week the favorite was a short clip concerning a bunch of Muslim men jockeying for prayer positions in a Mosque by slapping each other. This week most of the men on the island are watching women in London having their skirts pulled up by some merry pranksters. This is about the closest thing to porn that I have seen here. The men were so hesitant in allowing me to see it that I believe this to be real no-no stuff in their culture. In addition to TVs the phones also act as personal stereo systems, photo albums, cameras and communication devices. Very few if any islanders have regular TV as that would require a satellite dish. Too expensive an option for most homes here at $16 US per month.

We heard someone turn on the PA system back at the tent, our cue to head back. As we left, Soop’s coquettish wife posed for an impromptu cell phone photo shoot. On our return to the wedding we found the families of the bride and groom sitting on the dais where they were soon joined by the happy duo. The bride was beautiful in a gold metallic lace dress, which overlay a white form-fitting sheath. On her head perched a floral headdress accentuated with deely-bopper stars. The effect was quite stunning. The groom wore a brand new suit and tie. He pulled uncomfortably at his collar in the heat. The service started with a prayer and then the groom sang for a couple of minutes before handing the microphone to his bride who did the same. While this was going on a bunch of tourists appeared behind the dais probably drawn by the PA chatter. Having decided to add the marriage ceremony to their vacation photos they began to snap away from behind the dais. Curtain in the way? No worries mate as they pulled said curtain up and stuck their lenses in like so many camel noses. The families being far too well mannered to complain grinned and bore it. The ceremony was culminated when the fathers negotiated the son’s price in a short choreographed verbal give and take, which precipitated a wave of chuckles in the crowd. The deal done the Dads shook hands and everyone clapped and left.

The reception started at 9 that night. The Mosque had been converted into a concert hall complete with a cinder-block supported plywood stage and dim 40-watt bulbs hanging by wires. A local Indonesian rock group played a couple of songs over a seriously taxed speaker system to warm the crowd up. As they cranked up their amps I could imagine the hamsters at the local power plant spinning their wheels furiously. After the musical interlude the Bride and Groom entered the tent and took the dais as a married couple. The bride had changed dresses and now wore a conventional white wedding dress. While sitting on the bench, the bride looking sad and the groom still pulling at his collar, the fathers took the microphone and gave long-winded speeches in Sasak advising the couple on how to comport themselves as husband and wife. The tent was filled to overflowing with Indonesians sitting cross-legged on the floor. A sea of sweat glossed smiles. It seemed that everybody on the island was there plus a fair number of folks from Lombok. As you entered the tent you had to add your flip-flops to a dusty pile of footwear outside the ‘door’ after which you were handed a clear plastic clam shell holding a piece of cake and two pieces of cellophane wrapped hard candy. Guests who arrived early had the good fortune to receive a pair of miniature apples. Apples are an exotic fruit here as they must be imported. I saw enterprising women collecting any uneaten apples, which they placed in little red and green piles before them. I half expected to see them for sale in the market the next day. While the fathers verbally sedated the crowd a group of young boys played war in the corner using uneaten hard candy as ammo. When people finished eating they dropped wrappers, peels and plastic cups where they sat until the floor became a trash laminate.

The crowd was invited to congratulate the couple so I joined the surge forward, my bare feet slipping and sliding on the fruit peel floor. After the last of the guests had shaken the royal hands the couple retired to the metal roofed shack in the midst of the crowd to consummate their marriage while the Indo band played full tilt boogie rock as background mood music. Indonesian Barry White. I cannot imagine what it must have been like to be in that room having sex for the very first time (it was made clear to me by a number of people here that they take the whole virgin bride thing VERY seriously) while surrounded by a mass of humanity and noise. Not only that but after the act itself you are culturally required to present yourselves to the assembled guests with a smile and a newly discovered wink. The fathers probably send the sheets out for blood analysis the next day.

Karen and I didn’t stay for the wink section of the performance as the tent was very overcrowded and the clean up crew had started setting fire to the trash pits next to the tent. The coconut husk smoke wafting across the stage added immeasurably to the atmosphere. The sounds of happy, coughing, festive people followed us all the way back to the hotel.

Jim Denson wrote and asked us how we find our hotels. The answer is that we use the Lonely Planet Guide for basic info. Lonely Planet is useful for descriptions and maps but the room prices they quote have not been revised in years. Rooms are higher now. We also consult travel Blogs to see what people have had to say recently regarding different places to stay. We will quiz people that we run into for leads which is probably the best source of info. We don’t ask much of a hotel by US standards. Our rules are that the cost be less than $25 US per night including breakfast, the bathroom must be clean and the bed comfortable. Hot water is an option as it can be hard to find in Indonesia. In the islands the showers can be a bit saline so we have 5 gallon bottles of fresh water delivered to our room to rinse with. 5 gallons costs $2 US and lasts 3 days. A/C will drive the room rate up by 50%. At this time of the year (November) the weather is cool enough for a fan to suffice. Our average hotel cost has been $17 a night with breakfast. Our budget per day is $50 without gift expenses. Our actual cost per day has been $45 US covering room, meals, beverages, tours and the occasional spa visit. It is very inexpensive to live here.

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Photos

Cigarette Anyone?
One of the many 'Backy' bowls passed around the men's club.

And Then There Was One
Scene after the last cigarette was smoked. The men cleared out fast.

Find Karen
Scene on the women's side of the wall. Note Karen's box lunch/ future fan.

Sup's Brother-In-Law
Scene at Sup's while waiting for the ceremony to begin.

The Ceremony
The groom is next to the bride under the silver veil.

The New Couple
They were forced to sit here in the heat listening to their Dads offer unsolicited advice.

The Reception Line
Minutes before the big moment. I think the bride is taking off her earrings.