Lombok and the Gili Islands

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The ferry to Lombok took about 4 hours, arriving in Lembar where we found a bus to take us to Mataram. We pulled up outside a travel agent/ hotel where , after a long wait, we were told that there had been “conflict with big knives” on the road to Kuta Lombok where we were heading. They said it was too dangerous to drive us there that night but that it would be safe enough in the morning. After much confusion (and debating whether we were being tricked into spending a night in the Mataram hotel!), we decided to skip Kuta Lombok altogether as it wasn’t really a must-do and so not worth the risk. (We found out at a later date that there is a pretty constant threat of unrest between two rival groups just north of Kuta, and so we were pleased with our decision!) So, we stayed in Mataram overnight, which was a dive of a town, though we did get to sample some street food snacks that were a bit like onion bajis fried up in huge woks of oil on the pavement.

We drove to Tetebatu the next morning, a tiny village in the foothills of Mount Rinjani volcano. We found some accommodation in a big barn with stunning views over the rice fields from the bedroom upstairs. We walked up the dusty road to get something to eat where a man told us that it was currently the lead up to Indonesian Independence Day and therefore a nearby town was holding traditional stick-fighting competitions each day. We asked the lovely man at our guesthouse, Markay, who said he could borrow his friend’s car to take us that afternoon.. We went for a walk through the village and were immediately (and then throughout our stay) greeted all along the street by children (and the odd adult) shouting “Hello!”, “Hello Mister!”, “How are you?” and from some of the cheekier ones “Give me book” or “Give me pen!”. The first children we came across were swimming in some rice paddy water, and one got out, jumped on his bike and cycled, naked and grinning, up and down the road shouting “hello” to us as he passed! A little later, we met an 11year old girl, Elissa, who had amazing English and was eager to practise , asking our name, age and about our hobbies. In this tiny rural village of central Lombok, tourists are still a novelty but everyone was very welcoming. Even knowing that it is quite a poor region, some sights still came as a surprise; we passed an old lady shovelling cement into a bucket on a young boy’s head, for example.

Markay and his friend Arhip (the local primary school teacher) drove us to a town called Sakra to watch the stick fighting. When we arrived it was instantly clear that this was not a spectacle laid on for tourists, but an event for locals, as we were the focus of countless stares (particulary Elly, as she was the only female we could see!) Markay took us into the enclosure where a circle was beginning to form of local men sitting on the dirt floor. We joined the ring and waited to see what on earth would unfold! Markay bought us some monkey nuts from a vendor and we listened to some men playing drums and a flute, and soon a referee appeared, to get things underway. The way the stick fight worked wasn’t clear at first, and Markay’s broken English did little to enlighten us, but basically, two men from the crowd were chosen to fight each other using sticks and shields, accompanied by music. After one round, the referee would put some money on the floor of the ring to divide between the two competitors when he deemed the fight over. It was brutal at times, with men left with scars across their chest and back, but it all seemed in very good humour and friendly. On the drive back to Tetebatu, Markay asked “you like pineapple?”, and we said we did, assuming it was for breakfast the next morning, but soon after, we pulled up in a random street and both Markay and Arhip got out. Markay came back after a few minutes and gave us a bag of 4 prepared pineapples to share. We thought this very generous, but then Arhip arrived back at the car with a bag of 4 small prepared pineapples each, as well as 3 whole large ones for us to keep! They were such lovely men (though it has to be said we were unsure as to what we were supposed to do with so many ripe pineapples!) We stopped at a mosque on the way back for Arhip to nip inside for evening prayer (when he came out we saw him give a whole pineapple to one of his mates so perhaps it’s just the done thing!) We ate dinner across the street from our guesthouse, where a few locals, including our guesthouse owner, June, were jamming on their guitars. (It turned out that it was a bit of a reunion as the men used to be the “Teteabatu Band”!)

After a breakfast of banana pancakes whipped up by Markay, we went for a walk through the village, the road lined by rice terraces and tobacco fields. We ate lunch at a little café where a man recognised us and started chatting - he was a friend of June’s and one of the guitarists from the night before. Having only been in the village for a day, it already felt like we knew a lot of people! With no particular agenda for the day, we ended up spending most of the afternoon sitting with June, drinking tea, sharing his snakefruit (weird brown scaly fruits which were quite odd) and his life story! We saw lots of school children marching in formation up and down the road - we thought it was part of PE but were told that it was in fact in preparation for the Independence Day celebrations.

We were up and ready to leave at 6am the next morning, but inevitably we were late being picked up and so sat by the side of the road as light crept into the sky. It was so silent and we could see Mount Rinjani really clearly for the first time. June and Markay woke up and we had a cup of tea til the minivan arrived. We drove to Mataram where we transferred onto a clapped out rusty bus which drove us to Bangsal, the harbour for the Gili Islands. Once there, we walked a few hundred metres down the road to the harbour, where you can see the Gilis which were surprisingly close to the mainland. The boats that ran across were small and only ran when full, but we didn’t have to wait for long and knew when to board thanks to chatting to a local man also heading to our island. Of the three Gili Islands we’d plumped for Gili Trawangan as it’s supposed to have more on it and therefore (we hoped) more available accommodation. After a brief walk scout around some hotels, and with all of them either full or very pricey (or both), Elly left Phil with the bags and ran around the streets til she found somewhere cheaper. We walked down the ‘main street’- the only pocket of life on the island, past a few hotel resorts and bars, but were soon out to a gorgeous secluded coral beach, baffled by all the tourists squashed together round their hotel pools 5mins walk away! In the evening we found an open air cinema bar, where you could choose from hundreds of recent films to watch in your own private bamboo hut by the sea if you bought a drink!

We hired bikes and set off cycling in a loop around the island. We’d only been going 5 mins when Phil’s chain snapped so we had to push back, swap the bike and start again! We cycled to an area where lots of snorkelling boats pull up, parked our bikes on the sand and snorkelled out. The coral there was beautiful and colourful, and there were plenty of fish in perfectly clear water (the only drawback was the strong current making swimming back very tiring!) Back on the bikes we struggled to cycle round the rest of the island as there are no actual roads, just sandy tracks which made for pretty heavy peddling (and pushing!), not helped by the fact that Phil’s flip-flop snapping part way round! His luck didn’t improve… once we’d completed the loop and been for a swim to cool off, Phil’s peddle fell off and he sliced the end off his big toe!

The rest of the time on the Gilis was spent exactly as our time in Indonesia was intended - as a relaxing holiday! So we spent most of our time on the beach or else swimming and snorkelling off it! It seemed an expensive place to spend time as it was high season, but in reality it was only pricey when compared to Indochina! Our accommodation was the cheapest around and we saved money on food by having a “Pop Mie” (pot noodle) for lunch each day! The islands were full of French people (in fact that was true of all of Bali and Lombok, except for Kuta which was definitely an Aussie destination!) and also lots of Italians (who we hadn’t encountered anywhere else on the trip). Aside from swimming, sunning ourselves and snorkelling, we climbed up the only hill on any of the islands for views over them and towards Bali for sunset. We also spent two days on next door Gili Meno - the least developed of the three, and even more beautiful, with vast empty expanses of white sand!

Leaving the Gilis was not a pleasant experience as it felt very much like the END of the holiday - our last swim in turquoise water for some time! It took a whole day to travel back to Kuta on Bali (boat then walk then bus then ferry then minibus then taxi!) but it all went surprisingly smoothly!

The next day in Kuta we went for our surf course. We were given rash vests, introduced ourselves to the rest of the group, warmed up and then were taught the basics on the sand before riding some waves lying down on the board. Then we were taught to stand up and after one demonstration in the water we were attempting it ourselves! The conditions in Kuta are perfect for learning as the waves are so powerful that the white water is ridable all the time. It was exhausting though, particularly with the huge undercurrents. Elly just about managed to stand up a couple of times but Phil was (unsurprisingly) much better! Elly had had enough after her half day and retired as planned, to sunbathing, whereas Phil persevered with his 3 day course (growing progressively more achy and battered each day!)

Aside from the surf lessons in Kuta, we ate some great sushi, went to the Jimbaran beach barbecues (lots of fresh grilled seafood served at candlelit tables on the sand) and soaked up the last of the sunshine! On our last night we watched a Kuta sunset on the beach with a Bintang beer and experienced the surreal sensation of being about to go home - feeling ready to go home, even looking forward to it in some ways, but not wanting the trip to end!

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