Lombok

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After a brief few days in Kuta on Bali (more about that in a future Bali entry), I ventured across the sea to the Gilli Islands off the Northwestern coast of Lombok. My tour leader in China, Arron, had recommended the islands, and I had heard them referenced for diving as well. The Gillis are 3 islands, but Trawangan is the biggest and is more built up than the other two. Don't expect a luxury resort though. There are just enough bars, restaurants, and places to stay to make the place inviting but not too crazy like in Kuta. I tried to make sure I had enough cash before I headed over there as there are no ATMs on the island. You won't get knocked over by any crazy scooter drivers as there are no motorized vehicles whatsoever on the island. The only transportation alternative to your feet are the horse drawn carts that clomp along the dirt paths while jingling their attached bells, which provides a pleasant alternative to the noisy scooter horns in Bali. The island doesn't even have a police force. Difficult matters are decided within the community itself, but there is never any trouble. I went for the diving, but stayed because of how relaxed the place is. There is very little harassment to buy stuff from locals and everyone is generally pretty happy and glad to see tourists. There are little bamboo huts set up by a few bars where you can just chill, lay back, and watch a DVD while the sound of the ocean gently laps up against the shore. The water itself turns a brilliant turquoise as it reaches the fine sand. I found a volleyball court and had a game scheduled with the locals each night before the sun went down. They were pretty good although their spikes seemed to get caught in the net more than in the sand.

I had met a good crew of guys in Kuta and was planning to meet up with them in Gilli, but I ended up spending more time with some people that I met on the ferry ride over. The Irish Bar on the beach seemed to be where everybody started their evening. One thing that I've noticed as I travel the world is that no matter where you go, no matter how remote, there is always an Irish Bar. There only seemed to be enough people on the island to fill one or two bars, so each one would take turns having some sort of special night for the week. I found myself heading to bed early though so I could do early morning dives.

The diving was nice and cheap. Only $30 USD for a dive, which was a nice change from my last dive on the Great Barrier Reef in Oz. I got some good tips from the dive masters and managed to sort out my neutral buoyancy problems. Turns out I've been using too much weight on my belt and 5kg seems to be my new magic number. The area around the islands doesn't include very much coral; the real treasure was the sea life. I was hoping to swim with the sharks when I submerged in "Shark Point", but I must have just missed them. I did however get to see about a dozen Bumphead Parrotfish. They are about half a meter long, dark, have huge foreheads that they use to head-but coral with, and large buck-teeth. They kind of look like Ronaldinho. Apparently they come out to play during the full moon and that day was their first day back in a while. The currents were stronger than I was used to and it was almost impossible to turn around and swim back to the dive master if he wanted to point something out to us.

I attempted to do a bit of running while on the island. I think I made it about 20 minutes before I had to rest. My fitness is a far cry away from my marathon training days. The Gillis was the best beach life experience I had in Indonesia. I wish I had more time to stay, but I still had more places to see and my cash supply was nearing a replenishment. While I was on the island, I met Arun who worked at the place I was staying. He mentioned he does personal tours to his hometown village in Lombok, so I agreed to go with him for a few days.

His village is about an hour or so from the Lembar port that most people visit Lombok from. He belongs to the Sasak people who seem to make up the majority of the island. For 2 days he treated me as part of his family. I stayed in his house with his mother, brother, sister-in-law, and niece. They cooked for me and proved to be pleasant company. Arun's brothers spoke a bit of English, but Arun was always there to translate any questions I had. His only advice to me before we left Gilli was to offer and receive everything with my right hand and never to touch anyone's head. I could pretty much get away with anything else I might do that would raise an eyebrow with the villagers.

His house was made of clay bricks, which are produced in the village, but most of the accommodation nearby were smaller huts on stilts made out of bamboo and thatched roofs. Although the house was made of brick and had a tile roof, the inside was still unfinished with a dirt floor and the underside of the roofing tiles still visible. The house had some electricity, but it was only really used for a few light bulbs. Although there was no indoor plumbing, there was an indoor well. There was a concrete trough that would be filled with water from the well and on the other side of the wall was the bathroom. A plug could be removed from the other side of the wall and the water would gush out providing a cool fresh water shower. The kitchen was in a separate building and didn't consist of much more than a wood burning stove constructed from bricks. A free standing structure behind the house served as the main gathering place for the family for conversing and eating. It was constructed of bamboo with a thatch roof and stood on stilts. This seems to be the quintessential structure for Indonesia and I have seen them all over; not just in Arun's village. Shoes were to be removed before sitting on it and everyone sat cross-legged. I could only manage about 15 minutes before I had to change positions with my legs. As I would eat dinner, the chickens would peck around underneath to try and quickly snag anything that might fall through.

The food was really good. Everything was organic and without a fridge or freezer, extremely fresh. As soon as I got there I already had a coconut waiting for me. With the top chopped off and a straw inside, it is nature's perfect beverage. It's impossible to eat a meal without rice and I've grown well accustomed to it. A typical dish in Indonesia is called Nasi Goring, which you can eat all throughout the day. It is basically rice mixed with vegetables and sometimes chicken or tofu. For breakfast it is usually topped with an egg or two. You can also get Me Goring, which is basically the same thing only with noodles instead of rice. For breakfast it turns out I ate a few fried duck eggs. I thought they were chicken eggs at the time, but I did notice the yolk being a bit thicker than I was used to. I took a liking to tempe, which is a patty made from slightly mushed up soybeans. We had a bit of fish from the family farm as well as clams and crab. On the final day, Arun's mom produced a ginormous crab that was absolutely delicious! Arun joked with me that westerners need a whole range of tools to eat crab. I replied that it is almost like performing surgery at an American crab restaurant. He schooled me on how to take apart a crab with only my fingers and a spoon.

There were many different relatives that lived in houses around Arun's and similar family compounds were situated all around. It was hard to tell where one compound ended and another began, which is a symbol of the strength of the village. People's lives do not get buffered between each others as happens in the West. Everyone within the village is intertwined and dependent on each other; individualism would be almost fatal to village life. If one person gets a really good job, he shares his money with the rest of the village. When one of the houses burned down a few years ago, everyone assembled the next day to rebuild their neighbor's house. Not one person needed to be asked, everyone just knew what to do. A few of the huts have TVs, but they are pointed outwards, not inwards, so that everyone can enjoy the programs. The closeness of everyone and the collective good will of the village harks back to earlier days in the US when personal guarantees were sufficient over contracts and fences appeared around flower beds instead of yards. Unfortunately, sometimes the village togetherness is more of a necessity than a choice. When thieves from outside start to operate in the village, it is not the police that tracks them down but rather the villagers themselves. Indeed the villagers seems to take care of themselves for most things. Disagreements are more likely to be settled with elders rather than the law and a few of the women have been trained to administer inoculations and vaccinations to the children.

There seem to be children everywhere and I was a bit of an oddity to them to say the least. Arun said he didn't leave his village for the first 15 years of his life, so if it wasn't for the tourists that he brings to the village, these kids would never see Westerners. Most of them were just curious and a bit shy. If I looked at some of the kids, they would just hide behind their friends. One of Arun's baby nieces never warmed up to me and would just cry every time she saw me. I seem to have that effect on girls. It was amazing how quickly the word would get out when we walked around the village. We walked up around a school after it had closed and within 10 minutes there seemed to be over a dozen kids circling around me. I wished that I could have communicated with them better, but I did manage to teach them a few tricks with their hands which proved me pretty popular. I guess that will be my lasting legacy to the village.

I asked Arun what he thinks his village really needs and he was quick to point out that Indonesia as a whole needs to concentrate more on family planning. Couples think that they need to have as many children as they can, as quickly as possible so that they will be taken care of when they get older. Girls get married as young as 16, although it is more like 18 - 20 in Arun's village, and it is not uncommon to have a child by 18. More educated couples know different but spreading this philosophy is difficult. Unless it comes from the elders in the Mosque, some people will not take heed. The reality is that more and more people creates an increased drain on the food supply and there just aren't enough jobs around to support everyone. Increasingly, people need to search outside the village for livelihood. A lot of Indonesians head to Malaysia for work. The conditions there are appalling and the immigrant workers are taken advantage of. As you can imagine, the cost to leave the country is almost insurmountable for some and foreign employers are almost too happy to foot the bill. When the new worker arrives, his passport is held by the employer and he is subjugated to what is borderline slavery. Getting the money back to the immigrant's home village can be just as frustrating if he doesn't have a trusted counter party back home. Arun's brother is a chemistry teacher at the local high school and helps out foreign workers by providing his bank account number for them to wire their money home.

On my first day in the village, I arrived just in time for lunch. Afterward, Arun showed me around the family's fish farm. The village is close enough to the sea that they can flood their fish farms, which are made of earth walls, with sea water when the tide is high. A make shift dam ensures that the water level is kept high. When fish are required, they wait for low tide and place a net on the other side of the dam. Up it goes and the fish flow straight into the net. How easy is that? Arun was smart to plant mangroves many years ago and now they have sufficient habitat to encourage crabs to grow as well.

Along the way, I got to see how the villagers make bricks. All that is needed is earth, water, and fire. Almost enough for a powerful 70's funk group. The earth is mixed with water to form a thick mud. This mud is then packed in a square mold and left to dry in the sun. The result is a brown rectangular brick of dried mud which looks like a brick, but would crumble under pressure. The bricks are then pilled high and wood is placed underneath them so that a fire can be started. The fire must burn intensely for 3 days. If it dies out and is restarted, then the bricks will become weak, so someone is always babysitting it. I think the brick firing becomes a bit of a party as well. After the bricks have cooled, they gain a reddish color and are ready to be used in construction.

Next up was the salt extraction farm. The villagers here extract salt from the sea and then sell it. An NGO visits once a month to monitor progress and help with efficiencies. It is a pretty time intensive task, but I was impressed by the results. The first step is to flood a shallow area with sea water. Eventually the sea water will settle and saturate the soil below. This soil is collected and stored in huts to protect it from the weather. The salt extraction process can be done throughout the year, but the salty soil can only be gathered in the dry season after the flood plain has dried. So it is necessary to gather as much salty soil as possible during the dry season and then this stockpile can be processed during the wet season. This soil is then put into a big filter made out of bamboo and leaves. Sea water is poured in and a receptacle is placed underneath to catch the water. The water that pours out is highly concentrated with salt. Initially, I thought the salt would get caught in the soil and not filter through, but I can testify that the filtered solution does indeed taste very salty. The salty solution is then boiled. Coconut shells are used as the kindling. As the solution cooks, the water evaporates and all that is left is the salt. The salt is then bottled up and shipped off. There are some other by-products from this process such as the excess water and some hard salt. They are used on in other things, but I forget what. The salt is very fine and tastes just like what you find on your table. I inquired as to why they don't just cook the sea water straight, and the response was that this process yields way more salt than just cooking the water straight. They have been doing it for hundreds of years, so their argument was pretty convincing. Everything about the process is completely organic and no waste is generated. It is hard to find any waste in the village. Everything gets used.

That night, after dinner, I got a chance to visit a wake ceremony of sorts. One of the villagers lost a son a few days previously, all of 18 years of age, to asthma. Although the relative health of everyone in the village appeared ok, and they have close access to medical facilities, it shows how different things can be when a young person dies of a disease which has been relegated to an annoyance in western countries rather than life threatening. The men gathered under the thatch roof of a particularly long bamboo meeting spaces. We all sat cross-legged and the men chanted prayers while I tried my best not to do anything that might offend them. Afterward we enjoyed some food and after about 30 minutes I had to uncross my legs. This seemed to provoke laughter as a few of the guys were betting amongst each other how long I could keep them crossed.

On the way home I got to see how baskets are woven. An older woman wove before me, a plate, in about 30 minutes. These basket plates are used for serving food after a banana leaf is placed on them. The material used is the stem that makes up the middle of a coconut leaf. The leaf is stripped out and the stems are collected for weaving. The initial steps require that she hold bits under her feet while she weaves with her hands. After a few minutes, the plate begins to take shape and she finishes in such a fashion that confirms her years of experience. She probably could have done it with her eyes closed and that was almost the case as it was so dark outside. I was pretty impressed by how she created it and Arun remarked that they are just as impressed at how Americans can create things such as airplanes. They saw their first airplane fly overhead about 15 years ago, which provoked a lot of anxiety as the first impression in their minds were that bombs were going to fall. I'm not entirely sure why that would be their first thought though. It could be down to rumors passed around. Arun told me that years ago everyone was afraid of foreigners because the rumor was that they were there to kidnap their children. Madonna aside, this rumor has appeared to be vindicated in Arun's village but I can't testify for everywhere else.

The next morning I awoke early to the cries from the mosque speakers at 5am! Indonesia is the worlds largest Muslim country. Islam dictates that you must pray 5 times a day and the mosque helps you out by notifying you when to pray with singing from their extremely loud loudspeakers. I asked Arun if we could maybe play some Bon Jovi over the sound system instead of the usual prayer call, but he didn't think that was such a good idea. There doesn't seems to be a shortage of mosques, and they appeared to be the newest and best maintained buildings.

The second day I went with Arun on a hike through the rice paddies and up the mountain to a Buddhist temple. Along the way, we encountered a farmer who was using 2 Ox to break up the soil after it had been plowed. He offered to let me give it a go and I couldn't pass up the opportunity. The ox were pretty well trained and just a few noises from my mouth were sufficient for them to pick up the pace, but I still enjoyed trying out the whip a bit😊 Next up was the blacksmith shop. I was in luck as a customer was waiting for a plow to be made. The blacksmith had a fire going that was kindled by coconut charcoal. The coconut shells are burned for a short while and then extinguished so that they can later be used as charcoal. A blower is hand turned to heat up the charcoal while the metal is placed inside. After it starts glowing red-hot, it can be pounded into shape, but only for a short while before it looses it's heat and must be fired again. If two pieces need to be secured together, there is no welding. Rivets are heated, inserted, and then pounded smooth. The metal is secured from pretty much anything and Arun said that even scuba diving tanks have been used. I found the process particularly interesting as my great-grandpa worked as a blacksmith in Marine after he emigrated from Austria (now Czech Republic). We still have his anvil at home.

The hike took us up a pretty steep hill and provided us with picturesque views of the village and paddies below with the sea stretching out to the horizon. I managed to pick out the location of Arun's house by locating the square of palm trees surrounding his compound. Further on we came across the school where I met the children and further yet was the Buddhist temple. Most of the villagers are Muslim, but there are still a few Buddhists in the area. Everyone lives in relative harmony; Buddha would be pleased. Unfortunately for me, I left a day too early and would miss the festival that the Buddhists were preparing.

After dinner, I got to visit with some locals who were enjoying some Palm Wine. Although Islam dictates an abstinence from alcohol, Palm Wine seems to get an exception from the rule. It is more of a moonshine than a wine, but it is so weak that I don't think someone could get drunk off of it. They would have to be really desperate as it smells pretty disgusting, and the taste was not that much better. I managed a small glass of it so as not to offend, but I was glad to make an early exit. The wine is made by finding a certain type of palm tree with this large bushel of fruit growing off of the trunk. The fruit is not really edible. It is cut off the tree and a receptacle is placed underneath the severed branch. Slowly, the water drips from the branch into the receptacle and this water is later fermented to produce the palm wine. Don't expect to see it on the top shelf anytime soon.

My final day with Arun was spent at the local market. I was in luck as it only happens 2 times a week. There was a local medicine man selling his crazy potions along with women selling vegetables, fish, clothing, and my favorite, doughnuts. Arun was hoping that a local magician would make an appearance, but he didn't seem to be in attendance. I think we missed him by a couple of days. After the market I had to say goodbye to Arun's village. It was an extremely pleasant and eye-opening experience that I don't think I could have experienced on any tour or by reading any book. I was treated like one of his family and he allowed me to ask any question I liked without fearing offense. I would totally recommend his personalized service and even offered to build him a website to help promote his business when I get done traveling.

After village life, I paid another of Arun's brothers to drive me to Kuta. We all piled into his car for the trip and made it there in a few hours. Kuta is on the southern coast of Lombock and is well known to surfers for its waves. The surf is over a mile from the coast and local boatmen are hired to take the surfers out where they can catch the waves. I didn't really know what to expect there and I was a bit disappointed when I arrived. The area was almost completely devoid of tourists apart from surfers. Accommodation was not a problem and I had pretty good bargaining power. The surf looked to be a bit too advanced for my beginner level and I didn't want to chance another concussion a mile out from the coast all by myself with no lifeguard.

The next day I walked around the small town and could sense the desperation in the air. I was the only tourist and was quickly engulfed by people wanting to sell me things I didn't need. A group of five women surrounded me to buy some of their cloths. Some could be used for table cloths and others sarongs. I met them the previous day and managed to brush them away, but not this time. They remembered me and my name, which I guess wasn't too impressive as there weren't too many white blond guys walking around the town. I took a look and was pretty impressed by the quality which was all hand made by their mothers in a local village. I thought I would buy one, but they wanted me to buy 5! One from each of them. I settled on 2 table cloths and a sarong, so mom's got a gift in the mail. Once the money came out I had about 3 more kids surround me to buy t-shirts, bracelets, and other things I didn't need. I had to shu them away. It is more difficult to ignore the hard sell when you are the only tourist in town. One of the girls had an absolutely beautiful face which masked the realities of a premature hard life. She had married at 16, gave birth to a child at 18, and was divorced at 20. Her mom looks after her daughter in her village while she goes to town and tries to sell her mom's goods to the small number of tourists. Her story echos that of other girls in Indonesia. They get married young, arguably without much choice, have kids at a young age, and then their husbands divorce them for another younger girl. Men can still have more than one wife, but really only rich men can support more than one wife. Divorce is more common than I thought it would be. One of the women worked as a house maid in Saudi Arabia for 2 years before returning to be reunited with her kids. She is contemplating returning because there is no work for her in Kuta. Long absences to support the family can almost certainly result in divorce by the husband.

Kuta in Lombock is a stark contrast from it's overly successful namesake in Bali. A new international airport is being built nearby that will be able to rival the one on Bali. However, it has been being built for the last 18 years and all there is to show for it is some bulldozed land. I tried to verify with the owner of my bungalow if it would really be completed in 2010 as rumored. He just laughed and said "Maybe 2010, Maybe 2020." I guess he has heard too many promises in the past. I think there is more than a little politics involved as maybe Bali doesn't want another airport to rival its own. As I ate lunch in a restaurant, I was quick to observe that I was the only person eating in the restaurant, or in the 3 that I passed to reach it. The waiter pointed out a sting of empty concrete shells across the road behind me. Someone had begun to build some bungalows for tourists 10 years ago, but abandoned the project when it became apparent as a lost cause. As I ate, the bracelet and t-shirt boys waited for me to leave so as to try their sales pitch again. Another guy with a scooter added to the sales calls. There is no shortage of people offering you transport in this town where you can easily walk the length in 10 minutes. I managed to avoid the harassment on my way back to my bungalow where I just chilled on my porch and read a book. Not too long went by and someone else who I had spoke with the previous day had tracked me down and was asking if I needed anything; transport or surf lessons. I had to decline and see the disappointment creep back into his otherwise smiling face.

After a relaxing week in the Gillis and in Arun's village I was having to readjust to the harassment of everyone wanting my money. Although tedious, it becomes pretty routine after a while. In bigger cities I don't think much about it, but in Kuta, it became pretty depressing. There is no way to blend in amongst other tourists when you are the only one. Everyone is desperate to help you and they are more than friendly, but I can't accommodate everybody on my budget and it becomes pretty tiresome, especially when you can't even retire to your own bungalow for peace and quiet. After one day, I was ready to move on. Arun's village was probably the highlight of my entire Indonesian trip, but unfortunately Kuta had me leaving Lombok on a down note.

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Photos

View from Gili Trawangan
Beautiful blue ocean to go diving in.

Coffee Soda
Can't decide on how to get your caffeine fix? How about this stuff. It's cold coffee and soda in one can. Sounds disgusting, but I actually kind of liked it.

Enviro-friendly taxi
If gas prices keep rising, we may all start using these to get to work. There are no vehicles or scooters on the Gili islands. This is the only way to get around other than using your feet.

Salt Filter
This thing is filled with salt saturated earth from where the sea used to flood. Salt water is poured through and the water trickles out the bottom, heavily saturated with salt.

Cooking The Salt
After the salty water has been filtered, it is cooked to separate the water from the salt.

Basket-weaving
This woman could weave a basket like this in 30 minutes! You use it as a plate by placing a banana leaf on it, kinda like a paper plate, only organic.

Blacksmith
This guy was busy making a new plow for a customer.

Paddy and Me
The rice fields are just referred to simply as paddy.

She's a Brick-House
These bricks are waiting to be fired, which will take 3 days. Afterwards they will be red, hard, and ready for construction.

Crabby Lunch
This crab was HUGE and delicious!

We are family
Here is Arun's brother and sister-in-law.

School Classroom
The kids go to school Mon - Sat, but leave every day around noon. They don't get the summer off either. School is relatively available to all. The parents need to buy the uniforms for their kids.

Local Kids
These kids quickly appeared when I showed up. They were very curious and pretty amazed when I showed them their picture on my camera. I think they could have viewed my pictures all day long.

Dish it Up
I could tell that I was close to the equator because all of the satellite dishes point almost straight to the sky. Satellites are almost always around the equator of the Earth. That's why dishes in the US and UK point south. Little bit of geeky trivia there for ya.

Medicine Man
Not a witch doctor, but just as ineffective. I'm not sure how much people believe in such things.

Arun and 2 of his 3 brothers.
We all went on a road trip together from their village to Kuta.

Family Car
Scooters are the transport of choice in Indonesia. So far the most I've seen is a family of 5 on one scooter.

Sarong Mafia
These women drive a hard bargain in Kuta, Lomback.

Sarong Time
David Beckham would be proud.

Comments

[arun.]

fantastic moment
jason.i just see all the pictures of your time in my village .iam very happy but also very sad because that was very good moment an we could not share it longer.cause you have to continou your travel. iam very happy to see all fhotos.great moment,bravo,bravo.you look funny when you were working with the cows.