So many ways to begin this entry. "I just shared a boat with a live chicken..." "I was a long, long way from my bungalow when the rain hit..." or my favorite, "With a mix of hesitation and excitement, I wrapped my arms around this beautiful young Indonesian man..." And all of them are true. I am on the island of Nusa Lembongan, 12 miles south of Bali, and am finding that this is the image of Bali I had in mind. Rocky cliffs, crashing surf, beautiful beaches, and lush, lush vegetation- some of it kind of otherworldly, and some of it familiar, like the almond trees and coconut trees and palm trees everywhere along the coast. Inland, it could be Vietnam, or the Caribbean, except for the distinctly Indonesian architecture, and shrines everywhere. These range from little tiny mailbox-sized platforms for offerings along the street, to household pavilion shrines on the uphill side of every compound, to a few full-blown village temples.
The island is hilly and not very large; it would probably take a day to to get to the far end and back on foot, but it's not an easy walk. The roads are about 1/3 paved, and by that I do not mean that 1/3 of the roads are paved, but that the paved roads are about 1/3 pavement, 1/3 rocks, and 1/3 dirt. This does not deter the motor bikes, which are everywhere and surprisingly quiet and very politely driven. The beaches are spectacularly beautiful, but not in the Carolina miles-of-sand way. Here it's more postcard coves surrounded by rocky cliffs and crashing waves and mist, interrupted by more rocks, and on to the next cove. My beach, Mushroom Bay, would be a gorgeous swimming beach, but because it's so calm, it's full of boats. Yesterday I walked down the lane to a place called Dream Beach, and had lunch at Sunset Beach, and wandered through a field of cows to a tiny spt called "Devil's Tear." One of those crashing-surf, ocean mist, Hollywood-blue water settings- very dramatic.
Today I decided to strike out for Lembongan village- a beautiful, if somewhat uncertain walk. I do have a map, but none of the roads have names, and lots of roads aren't on it, so it's anyone's guess where I actually am. Not a problem- about every 10 minutes someone shouts "Hallo! Where you going? Motorbike?" so there's no chance of getting too badly lost. I wandered up and down some steep windy roads, and was greeted by lots of small children on the backs of motorbikes on their way to school with their mothers, and stumbled across some beautiful temples.
As a side note, I am struggling with the balance between obsessive photographer and sensitive traveler- everything is so beautiful, but I don't want to be invasive. In particular, I lvoed the temple entrances- they're gated and closed, but they serve as a place to leave daily offerings. People bring exquisite little bundles of flowers wrapped in a tidy leaf basket, with a little rice and a stick of incense, and leave them on the the temple steps. I did a project on Balinese architecture and am fascinated with the house compounds, too- I'm dying to peek inside but privacy in the compounds is one of the key design factors. All the compounds are rectilinear and have a variety of pavilions, sheltered on 3 sides, for sleeping, cooking, worship, etc. The compounds deliberately turn a blank wall to the street, with an elaborate entry gate (always on the downhill, ocean side) with little niches for offerings and incense. You can see the family shrines, the tallest part of each compound, peeking over the top of the walls. All the shrines on a street are oriented in the same direction, towards the high ground and away from the sea, which makes a lovely pattern when the compounds are close together and form a continuous chain on both sides of a street. In this culture, the mountains represent the sacred, and the sea represents the profane; in both the architecture and daily habit it is very important to locate yourself in this cosmic orientation at all times, metaphorically with your head to the mountains and your feet to the sea. (I swear, I am not on an Eat, Pray, Love tour- but for those of you who have read it, she is dead right about the impact this has on daily life. Here they ask first, "Where are you from?" and then immediately "Where are you going?" and it's used almost like "How are you?" And if you seem out of whack in your cosmic orientation, for example being past 20 and single and traveling halfway around the world from your home, they will let you know that. I got all kinds of clucking and scolding over this point yesterday, most of which was not translated to me by my guide, but I got the general idea.)
And so. Back to the early morning walk which led me to the village- where the sky opened up with no warning and I was caught in a deluge. I was immediately soaked and stumbled into a beachside cafe where the locals justifiably laughed at me, and it seemed as good a time as any to try a pineapple pancake and my first cup of Balinese coffee, or any coffee, since leaving Raleigh. Note to self, bad idea to leave your hotel without a clear understanding of weather patterns and find yourself an hour away on foot, and without a waterproof camera bag. (Liquid damage is already a familiar foe.) It all turned out great; my waiter offered me a ride back on the motorbike- these are everywhere- when the rain let up. As previously mentioned, I did indeed climb on the back, wrap my arms around him, and held on tight- and it was really, really fun. I'm not sure I actually agreed to this, since I couldn't hear half of what he was saying from behind, but he ended up taking me on a tour of Ceninda, the next island over, which is connected to Lembongan by a long wooden bridge. Just wide enough for a motorbike or two- I swear he did not even slow down. We only had to stop once for brief bout of rain, under a porch where the ladies disapproved of my globetrotting and outfit and lack of wedding ring. Then, the clouds parted, and we went to the top of the island- from there, we could look back across Nusa Lembongan all the way to Bali. Alec (by then we were on a first-name basis) took me to a few other places so beautiful that they were surreal- a place called Blue Lagoon, and another cliff where some guys who wouldn't stop shaking my hand, were fishing for barracuda.
All in all: to re-iterate, it was really, really fun- something I feel like I've only experienced lately in furtive, guilty little spurts in between design reviews and papers to write and research to do and, well, the general super-serious tone we've all felt in grad school. Worth thousands and thousands of miles of travel already, and I just got started.....
There's lots more, but I'm actually typing all this in from in Internet cafe back in Sanur on the mainland- I already want to go back to the island, but tomorrow I fly to Java to see Borabodur, the original impetus behind this trip. Hello to all back home, miss you, wish you were here, send news!
