Bali continued

    The Tunjung family temple courtyard contains 4 shrines and one main temple where the bulk of the offerings are stacked and new daily offerings prepared.  This building sits on a raised stone foundation, two feet off the ground, open on three sides with the north-facing wall bricked up and a thick, thatched straw roof.  Inside the structure is another platform that is wrapped in a decorative silver and green brocade, where painted wooden trays hold all the food offerings that have been prepared over the last few days.  A series of neatly folded sarongs hang from a rail above the food and additional colored-material wraps hang on the flanking sides which creates a visual stage for the sumptuous display.  Mirrors hang on either side of the temple in elaborate constructs of beadwork and fabric, like ‘dream-catchers’ and are put here for the God's benefit.  The wooden supporting poles of the building are also wrapped in the same colorful brocade. 
    The four other shrines vary in size, two of which have thatched roofs.  They are wrapped in cloth and have matching colored umbrellas standing in front of each.  Offerings are housed in small enclaves within the structures and again a mirror hung from each.  Everyday, Wayan circles the family home compound and leaves simple offerings, typically consisting of a square folded palm leaf tray with rice and grated coconut, at strategic points, such as outside of doorways, gateways and walking paths.  She burns incense and says prayers at each of these stations asking for forgiveness and seeking a blessing of good health, general wellbeing and happiness.  She is always dressed in temple attire and it is a pleasure to watch this devotional ritual.  Today being the first day of Galungan, each of the daily offerings are far more involved, additionally consisting of sugar cane, banana, bean, egg and sweet cake, with a second tray of flowers placed on top.

    It was a full day of ritual blessings and temple visits, both at home and at the large community temple in the Monkey Forest, Ubud.  The religious rites in Bali are practiced in very specific ways, with adherence to tradition and belief in ceremonial conduct an integral part of life, passed down through the generations.  A mother, by example, will teach her daughter the routine of daily offerings and in school the various ceremonial practices are also taught to the children.  So everyone grows up in a religious atmosphere that is anything but dogmatic and celebrates the ritual and cycles of life with daily observance and many calendar festivals that are both joyous and colorful.

    March 1st 2000.  For all the hard work and preparation that went into decorating the temple area so lavishly, it all came down today.   The food, which will be eaten over the next few days, had been removed from the altar.  We spent the afternoon at the Agung-Rai Museum of Art (ARMA – www. chica. com/arma/) on the south side of Ubud.  It houses a fantastic permanent collection with special emphasis on Balinese paintings.  The two huge main gallery buildings are designed in traditional Balinese style and on a grand scale, standing in an exotic landscape of gardens, pools and fountains.  ARMA is not just a museum but a center for visual and performing arts with dance, musical recitals, theatre and much more happening on an on-going basis.  Today a Gamelan orchestra of young students accompanied a traditional ‘Legong’ dance class for girls.  We passed several hours here and were extremely impressed with the facility as a whole. 
    Lombok.  It was a 45km cycle from Ubud to the small but busy port village of Padangbai on the southeast coast along a main thoroughfare.  It was hot and at times a choking ride because of the many big trucks and buses that plied this major east-west highway.  The one redeeming factor about this stretch of road to the coast was that about 80% was downhill, a cyclists delight! Laden down with a bunch of gear in saddlebags strapped to racks on our bikes, we were always a bit of a novelty item, cheered along by people along the route.  There is a genuine curiosity on the part of the people, as was true of many of the countries that we have visited so far.  The questions follow a fairly standard format – ‘hello, where are you from, where are you going, what is your name, where you stay in Bali, how much you pay for that bike’???! It is always fun stopping and sharing a few words with the locals.   For these folks whose English is limited, it is as much of an opportunity to practice speaking the language as anything. 
    The deep blue of Ocean was a welcome sight and out-rigger fishing boats lay moored on the beach.  A short distance away was the venerated Hindu Temple of Goa Lawah, or ‘Bat Cave’, as it is known.   This is one of Bali’s 9 directional Temples and a very important pilgrimage site.  As the name suggests, there was a cave with a resident bat population and a series of shrines had been erected at the entrance, now all covered in guano.  You cannot miss the place, as the throngs of food/beverage stalls and roving street hawkers selling beads and postcards are a dead giveaway.  The beach is directly opposite the cave, separated by the main road and must have been a scenically gorgeous location before it was paved and marketed.  Seven kilometers up the road was Padangbai, where we caught the ferry to Bali’s neighboring Island, Lombok. 
    The 4hour-boat ride, in an old rust bucket of a passenger/cargo ferry was uneventful, hot and at times all too turbulent for the likes of my sensitive stomach.  There is a section of open sea between the two islands that is particularly rough with no protective headlands to break the force of wind or ocean current.  We pulled through without upset though.   Our memory of this journey was marked by the appearance of a young man who was recovering from body burns from head to toe.  He had lost all of his native pigment and the remnants of former skin now had a white, chalky, scaly appearance.  The poor man was obviously suffering and very uncomfortable, not only with his wounds but in addition having to come to grips with his present situation, knowing that life would never be as before.  He rarely looked up, instead, sat in a withdrawn position on the steel deck of the ship, eyes gazing at his feet.  It was obvious, too, that he was very aware of how his visual condition attracted everyone's attention.  People seemed to go out of their way to walk past him and stare awkwardly, without ever exchanging any words of encouragement or consolation.  It was a heart-wrenching scene and all the more difficult for us, not being able to speak his language.  I bought a Coca-Cola, opened it placing a straw inside then I sat it next to him.  He did not acknowledge me just then, but did drink it over time.  I felt at least, we had made a compassionate gesture here, which spurred two other men to sit and talk with him later on.

    The ferry pulled into Lembar bay, passing some beautiful palm fringed headlands and small islands inhabited only by birds.  Locals fished from wooden canoes with out-riggers that stabilized the small two man craft.  The sun was setting, casting a warm, soft glow over this picturesque land/seascape, accentuating the greens and turning the underside of the trailing clouds an orange/pink color.  We remained in Lembar for the night in small bungalow about a mile from the wharf area.  

    The next morning it was out into the heat again under our own steam, pedaling the undulating road that hugs the coast, skirting Lembar bay.  Continuing in a southerly direction, we passed a bay that was dotted with a type of fishing platform, from which draped nets.  Made from bamboo, some of these simple pole constructs contained a thatched roof area within the framework to shade the occupants.  Fishing is the mainstay of existence for many of the coastal villages and the colorfully painted hulls of boats with bamboo stabilizers are a common sight on the beaches.  Lombok is distinct from Bali in a couple of notable ways.  It is primarily Muslim and doesn’t have the sophisticated, manicured appearance to the landscape.  It is pretty rugged in places and though it is apparent that the island was at one time thickly covered with forest, the removal of trees, for agricultural purposes has not led to the grand terracing schemes and elaborate waterways of Bali.  It is a much more natural looking landscape, very green and rich in its own unique way.  The bald hilltops have been taken over by a type of long grass that bristles in the wind like a lion’s mane.   The road was fairly quiet for being the major southwest arterial, resembling more the back roads of Bali.  Mini-buses and small trucks that hauled goods and passengers, filled to capacity, passed us intermittently.  As we approached villages along our route, we began to see more horse drawn buggies ferrying people to and fro.   And yes, the scooter, which is undisputedly the leading mode of island transportation, the symbol of youthful vigor and fitness, testosterone driven champion of speed and (male) power was only too prevalent.

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    22km from Lembar, is the crossroads town of Sekotong Tengah, where the road splits and offers a choice of going either west or south.  We stopped for lunch at this bustling little intersection of a village, where many of the local transport mini-buses were congregated.  The hills that separated Lembar bay on the north side of the peninsula and Sepi bay on the south were not huge by hill standards, but were none the less acute at times and made for tough cycling, especially in the midday heat.   There was very little in the way of shade and in several places we had to dismount and push our loaded bikes up through the steep grades.  Cresting the final rise and seeing the ocean below was welcome and we headed to the little village of Sepi on the edge of the bay.

    Sepi village is situated next to a sheltered bay, where coconut palms skirt the shoreline.  The buildings are mainly elevated bamboo constructions with either corrugated metal or straw thatched roofs.  It is rustic with small cooking huts next to the living quarters and a few roadside stands selling basic supplies.   There is a garden off to our right and the place we are staying actually appears to be one of the fancier establishments in the village.  It is elevated much higher than the surrounding buildings, with plenty of headroom to walk under the house.  A wood and bamboo staircase leads to a single level living quarter’s which consists of just two small rooms, but has an expansive bamboo veranda that overlooks the village and roadway.  Bamboo slats form the floor and plants line the shelves that form the surrounding porch balcony.  There are a couple of wells close to our dwelling, where water is drawn in buckets on a pulley system, where people shower or wash dishes.   We are a bit of a showcase, sitting on the open faced veranda of our elevated porch and everyone passing by is obviously quite surprised and intrigued as to who the ‘tourists’ are.  Kids congregated around us, drawn like metal to magnets, barking the few words of English that they know, learned in the school classroom.   ‘Hello Mister’ (whether referring to Annette or myself), is a commonly heard call along with ‘Touriste’.  We appear out of place in this tiny rural fishing community. 

    Adi and his wife are our hosts and though not accustomed to putting up foreigners, they went out of their way to see that we were comfortable and well cared for, going as far as giving us their bed! Their biggest concern was whether our stomachs could tolerate their food and levels of hygiene.  We assured them that we were well adjusted, having spent time in some places that made these surroundings look like the Hyatt Regency.  We enjoy Indonesian food very much, so adapting to the local menu was not an issue.  This evening, we bathed in a ‘mandi’, which is a type of   shower where water is pulled from the well and poured into an enclosed concrete reservoir inside the shower cubicle, through a sluice on the exterior.  There is a small wooden stopper plug in the wall around waist level, where you squat beneath and wash up.  It is simple and very refreshing after a long, sweaty cycle.  It was a mutually beneficial stop-over as there was no official guesthouse in the area and for Adi, it was an opportunity to make some good money, without too many hassles.  It was apparent that these communities we had passed through so far were anything but prosperous.  Here, it was mainly subsistence farming, both on the land and sea, where people lived in close, mutually supportive communities.  Tourism had not reached these parts yet, though it was supposedly on the Indonesian Government's agenda to develop and promote the inherent beauty of this area. 

    As we continued on the next day towards Kuta beach (nothing like the Kuta in Bali, which is a major party town), we were greeted by throngs of young children running around naked, or at best having one of their mothers sarongs draped over their shoulders like a roman toga, much of it trailing in the dirt, shouting ‘Touriste!!! ‘hello, hello, I love you’.  This destination was about 50km from Sepi and it would have been a relatively easy ride under normal conditions, but here we were riding over the southern portion of hill terrain in the baking, unrelenting heat (high 90’s) and it was grueling work.  The scenery along this section of coastline was just spectacular.  Pristine and only periodically punctuated by the thatched roofed buildings of small fishing communities.  White sandy bays contained sheltered coral reefs and turquoise waters and occasionally small jutting islands poked out of the deeper waters offshore.  Passing through these quiet villages, untouched as yet by the likes of television and considered fortunate if possessing electricity at all, we were joined by hoards of kids.  All it would take was for one of them to spot us and the word would spread through the village like wild fire.  From darkened interiors, fields, up trees, distracted from their games and sleep, they would join us in our toil, assisting us up the steepest hills.  It always amazed us how so many young children requested cigarettes and what an alien sight this was to see them standing there, puffing away! Hot, dripping in sweat and grumpy, we accepted a ride (for a fee of course!) to Selongblenak, for a total of 10kms.  It eased our spirits a bit and gave us the strength to tackle the remaining journey of slightly less demanding coastal terrain.
     We paused for an hour at the undeveloped, pristine Mawan beach, a crescent shaped, finely grained white sand beach, that cupped emerald blue waters.  At the two peninsula points, which formed the entrance to the bay, large swells broke on to rocky out croppings, sending white surf high into the air.  One huge tree, with a dense, broad canopy of waxy leaves, created the only real shade on the entire beach.  The local merchant/entrepreneurial kids were capitalizing on this fact and had set up a stall, selling soft drinks, beer and a few munchies.  Two other tourists lay on the beach under the shade of the tree (having come from Kuta, on a day’s excursion), but otherwise the place was deserted.  The final uphill battle was complemented by an equally steep descent into Kuta, down a twisting and rutted road that caused our brakes to whine under the strain.  The views of the sweeping shoreline and expansive coconut groves below were magnificent.  Kuta beach is a village that is undergoing the growing pains of becoming a small, developed resort town.  It has not yet fully taken off as some other tourist beach resorts have, such as Senggigi on the northeast coast.

    It is noted for its beautiful white sandy beaches, but even more of a draw are the big waves and unending breaks, popular with the Aussie and Japanese surfing community.  Kuta has only two upscale hotels and all the other accommodation is homestay style bungalows that dot the length of the village, interspersed with local warungs offering Indonesian menus.  It doesn’t have sufficient amenities and activities to support a major tourist industry yet - no para-sailing, diving operations, sport fishing, shopping facilities etc.  Kuta is still very much an active fishing and agricultural village which has not fully committed itself to the transformation, even though the smell of tourist dollars would be preferred to the smell of fish! It remains a picturesque, natural place, where aspects of life endure as they have for generations.   Thankfully, it has retained sufficient identity to have character and visual appeal.

    Entering Kuta, we were greeted by a small band of girls selling pineapples, who specifically targeted tourists.  They reminded us of the Bedouin gypsies in the Sinai, with their dark skin, bleached out and matted hair.  There was a desperate, pleading tone to their voices as they vied for our business, often squabbling and cutting each other down.  Their English was sufficient and well rehearsed and manipulative at times, playing on our sympathies to make a sale.  It is a sad fact, that these young people were in such a predicament but this kind of scene accompanies the tourist wave, in many places throughout the world – where there is obvious wealth (in relative terms), the poor seem all the more destitute, unhappy and resentful.  (often forgetting that it is us who have come all this way, to be in their paradise! We checked into ‘Mandalika bungalows’ and restaurant, a family run operation, where everyone was extremely friendly and helpful.  The following morning, we hired a scooter and toured the area, first following the coastline east to Tanjung beach, which was obviously a popular destination for the locals to picnic.  It was also where we located the mobile ‘ice-cream’ man, who sells directly from the wooden coolers strapped to the sides of his scooter.  For the beach lover, there are endless opportunities to explore this coastal section of Lombok.  We passed many little side tracks that would certainly have terminated at some sheltered cove or headland.   Shaded coconut groves fanned out either side of the road, where cows grazed and water buffalo wallowed in muddy pools near the open pastureland.  Further inland the topography undulated through verdant farmland.  Lombok is noted for its high quality rice yield and presently the harvest was well underway.  Other crops raised on the island include coffee, coconut, kapok, cotton, pineapple, clove, with the major cash crop being tobacco.  There is also a market for sea salt and seaweed, with several coastal villages engaged in farming these commodities.

    Our route filtered out at Awang Bay, where the muddy brown waters along its northern shoreline were prime habitat for the mangroves that thrived here.   A small river filtered into the bay at this point, bringing with it silt and sediment, while further out into the main ‘Ekas’ bay there was a clearly delineated line where the deep Prussian blue of ocean met with the muddy brown of brackish water.  We passed through numerous villages, a maze of inter-connected back roads, many of which were no more than dirt tracks.  At one point we sheltered under the eaves of a building in the village of Pene for an hour, as a passing thunder storm furiously dumped buckets of water over the surrounding area.  It did cool things off substantially for a short while, before the humidity replaced the heat! You might imagine that riding a 90cc scooter would be a great way to see a place, but in fact it didn’t take long before our butts ached and our bodies were sore from the bumpy roads.   Scenery zipped by quickly, stealing all too many precious images.

    As we progressed north to the craft’s center of Beleka, we began to get the distinct impression that we were not welcome.  People no longer greeted us warmly and for whatever reason their facial expressions and body language were distinctly cold.  Being a dominantly Muslim society, it may have been that we were wearing shorts or that Annette had on a sleeveless T-shirt, we can’t be sure.   Certainly in our travels around the island to date, wearing this same attire for comforts sake, we had not experienced this kind of animosity.
    The main road that leads from Praya back to Kuta, was a hive of rice harvesting activity.  White nylon sacks stuffed full of shucked rice were stacked at the roadside, hauled from the fields by strong, sinewy men and women.  Horse drawn buggies were loaded down with these huge sacks of grain and driven to the nearest depot.   The leftover stalks were assembled into piles, then set alight and plumes of light grey smoke issued from the numerous pyres dotted throughout fields that bordered the road.   The bright green of newly emerging shoots contrasted with the golden ochre of cut rice and the black heaps of charred by-product.  Back in Kuta, we walked the beach at sunset and watched the kids frolicking in the surf under red tinged clouds.

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    March 6th.  We bid farewell to Kuta just before the sun reached its zenith, having a bit of a late start due to the fact that Annette’s bicycle pedal just dropped off - It took time to find the necessary socket set to screw the thing back on.  A short distance from the beach, the road climbs steadily upwards for about 2km at which point it evens out onto a plateau for much of the distance to Praya, 25 km away, putting the worst of the journey behind us early on.  Along the way, we stopped at a traditional Batik shop where they produce wax resist, dyed artwork on cloth, using natural pigments from plants and minerals.  It is a time-consuming process, all done by hand.   The finished image has opaque qualities, making it suitable for hanging directly on a wall or displaying it up against a window.

    At the village of Perujak, we again pulled over and viewed some beautiful earthenware pottery, all hand-made by the ladies of the village (the men are out farming).  We were also given a brief tour of the primitive production facilities and firing kilns.  These women worked steadily away in their homes creating a diverse range of functional items, such as, plates, bowls, candlestick holders, water pitchers and huge standing vessels.  Mud brick ovens were fuelled with wood and dried coconut husks, with the completed clays pieces piled up inside and brought to firing temperature.   Terracotta, malachite and blackened were the three specialty finishes available with each having its own distinctly unique appeal.  The black finish is achieved by taking the finished, fired works and placing them in a pyre of burning rice husks, which naturally change the color.  Everyone along our route today was again wearing their customary welcoming smiles, while Annette was careful to wear a T-shirt with sleeves.   Praya was a mandatory and reluctant stop over for us, as our next destination of Lendang Nangka was just too far away to cycle in one day, given the heat factor and that no other accommodation was available in the region.

    With only a choice of one hotel in Praya, we settled into one of their V.I.P rooms.  It had rat shit on the toilet tank, an obviously less than frequently scrubbed bathroom and a power outage that put a hold on that oh-so-needed A/C until 9pm at night.  There was also no running water throughout the night, with no way to flush the toilet.  God knows what the economy rooms would have been like! It was a bit of a farce and we were, needless to say, glad to put the town behind us.  We cycled up the lower slopes of Agung Rinjani, which dominates the landscape of this northerly section of island.

    Lendang nangka is centrally located in an area that boasts several traditional crafts, including blacksmithing (mainly farm and functional implements), basketry, weaving and pottery. On the outskirts, is a family operated ‘home-stay’ bungalow called ‘Pondok Bambu’, which became our base. The day’s activities were abruptly ended around 2pm when another storm system hunkered down over the area, confining us to the front porch of the bungalow. It is a lush environment that spreads before us – to the right are open terraced rice fields, bordered by a band of tall coconut palms, as is the immediate garden area, where there are 5 small thatched huts. A lull in tourist activity (we are the first visitors here in 6 months!) has meant that the various family members now inhabited the bungalows. We were certainly not expected on this rainy day and some re-shuffling of residences was necessary to accommodate us. Hands were busily preparing our room and the beautiful, but neglected garden, all of a sudden received some attention. Our host, Mr. Marzuki, is a very gracious man, relaxed, soft spoken and chatty and made us feel like part of the family. His entire extended family lived here too, right down to the grandchildren and everyone displayed the same charming qualities of the patriach.

    The garden is a veritable pallette of greens and yellows, with accents of deep fuscia and many of the plantings are indigenous – coconut palm, lemon, papaya, banana, giant bamboo, a large leafed species of plant resembling cannas, with tightly spaced bands of yellow and green and numerous others. A variety of juniper and what resembled cedar, were also included in the rich but somewhat disorganized garden. Chickens casually strutted around the grounds, scratching up the dirt in search of meager pickings, while the colorful rooster, a golden brown and black bird with russett and white flecked tail plumage and a brilliant scarlet comb, leads the foraging band. Numerous sultry looking dogs which were aloof to our attempts at contact, roam about as though they had some important business to attend to (and as the females were in heat, I guess they did). Amusingly enough, these mutts, that were certainly not family pets, would congregate at night and at daybreak and howl like a pack of wolves. Marzuki’s son Apip, keeps doves and homing pigeons outside his bungalow, next to the rice field, which you could hear cooing from our porch in the mornings. On a clear day, Mount Rinjani can be seen from here, dominating the entire northerly section of the island, covered in thick forest. A fresh water spring only half a mile away is the source of the village’s water and was surprisingly clean and pure. Three hearty traditional Sasak (Lombok’s dominant culture) meals are included in the price of a day's stay and the food was unquestionably the best that we had tasted yet. Dinner the first evening consisted of plain rice, fried tempeh with egg, coconut curried potato, gado gado (beansprouts, green beans and chilis in a peanut sauce), followed by fresh pineapple.

    Between the hours of 6 – 8.30 am, Lendang nangka is a hive of activity just off the main square, where a local market takes place daily. People come from the surrounding areas to purchase their fresh produce, meats and fish; in addition, there were stalls selling tobacco (about a dollar a kilo!), clothes, laminated pictures of various teen idols and religious figures, pigeons and fighting roosters, toiletries and woven baskets. There was even a blacksmith who had a primitive forge set up, sharpening and reshaping blades for the local farmers.

    It is primarily women who operate the food stalls, sitting on the ground in tight huddles, their goods set up in front of them and only enough space between the rows to pick your way through, single file. It is a very colorful scene with lavish spreads of red chilis, various green leafed vegetables, buckets of fresh tofu, trays of tempeh, rice in large open baskets, tobacco neatly stacked in folded slabs according to grade (the light ochre color is mild, while the deep earth brown is stronger), exotic looking fruits of various shapes and textures, fish both fresh and dried, arranged in small individual piles, fried dough filled with banana and other sweet goods, are just a sampling of what is offered here. Kids neatly dressed in their school uniforms mixed with the crowds, horse-drawn buggies lined up waiting for passengers with their goods and women walked with fully laden baskets precariously balanced on their heads. Agung Rinjani formed a marvelous backdrop to the bustling street scene.

    North of Lendang Nangka is the village of Tetebatu which sits higher on the slopes of Rinjani, just outside the National Park boundary.  It is a much more popular tourist destination due to its location amidst some of Lomboks finest rice terracing and spectacular views of the mountain on clear days (which this was not).   We caught a glimpse of the top of the peak early in the morning but it soon disappeared with the rising mists and cloud that form daily over the summit.  There is another natural spring in the vicinity, an impressive waterfall and a forest with black monkeys to be explored. All this and it began to pour on us once more, cutting short our explorations and forcing a hasty retreat down the mountain.  Back in Ledang nangka and soaking wet, we decided to carry on to Priggasela, which is noted for its weaving, constantly shadowed by dark threatening clouds.  Much of the handicraft work in these small villages happens behind the scenes, down small back alley workshops and in people’s homes. Typically the few shops representing the village output are more than happy to give you a tour and explain the process, partly as an apt marketing tool. Today was no exception. Obviously surprised to see any visitors at all (in part because it was low season, but possibly due to the unrest in certain parts of Indonesia presently, which affect tourism) a small crowd very quickly assembled around us, as we visited what appeared to be the only shop on mainstreet. Piles of woven sarongs and blankets lay folded on tables and the proprietor was quick to hang up the fabrics on his display racks for our benefit (and ultimately his!). He was extremely helpful and generous with his explanation of the weaving process. These sarongs are made of hand spun cotton with the colored threads dyed from natural sources of mineral, plant and vegetable.  All the finished fabrics are of superb quality and are graded according to the design detail and time involved in their making.   The weaving which is done on small handlooms, takes anywhere from 2 – 5 weeks to produce a single sarong measuring 2 x 1 meter.  We watched one of the women in the village (all of the work related to the production of these sarongs is done solely by the women), as she sat on the floor rhythmically passing the smooth wooden shuttle back and forth through the multitude of vertical colored strands with practiced ease and precision, tamping down each new row of interlaced threads.  The resulting fabrics are a wonderful blend of design and color. There is no designated front or back to these fabrics, as the pattern is equally clear and vibrant on either side.  We purchased two pieces, one with a series of horizontal bands of complimentary and contrasting colors, interwoven with checkered and triangular patterns and the other one, a very deep purple with stylized green border of the traditional ‘bamboo’ motif.  The latter is actually sewn together at the ends creating a circular tube of fabric, which is traditionally the way all Lombok sarongs are made.  You step into the ample sarong, gather the excess material to one side, pinch it down while passing the remainder back across your waist and then roll it down towards your hips.  The rolled waistband is commonly used as a pocket for your money or tobacco.

    Loyok, a neighboring village is noted for its fine basketry using bamboo and palm leaf woven strips to create all sorts of utilitarian items such as handbags, floor and place mats, bowls, baskets, trays, decorative boxes, hats etc. We made a brief stop here on leaving Ledang Nangka for the day’s destination of Senggigi, 65km northwest. Coming from an elevation of about 1300 feet down to sea level, meant that the majority of the days cycle west was a gentle, forgiving downward slope, which flattened out at the coast.

    Senggigi is the most developed and touristed resort area on Lombok. Compared to more popular destinations on Bali though, it is still very quiet and laid back. There are a couple of major chain hotels here, i.e. the Sheraton and Holiday Inn, along with a full range of budget and mid-range accommodation. The town of Senggigi is relatively small, essentially only a main thoroughfare which runs parallel with the beach and is flanked by restaurants, hotels and various shops. It is a quiet place through the day and it doesn’t really come alive until after dark, when everyone surfaces from their day’s activities and descends upon the town’s restuarants, many of which have live music each night.

    We actually settled for the first nice looking place we saw on the outskirts of town, called Batu Bulong Cottages. In hindsight we scored an ace. Annette and I both felt the need of a little luxury after almost 8 months travelling and settled for a beachfront cottage with all the features of a first class hotel, at an off-season rate of only 10 dollars a night, including a feast of a breakfast! We laughed at our good fortune and revelled in the conveniences and terrific ocean views. Our room was huge with woven bamboo mats covering the walls and ceiling and thick, wide plank wooden flooring. It had a richness and warmth with matching chunky bamboo furniture, both inside our bedroom and out on the spacious 2nd floor veranda. We enjoyed the cool a/c, while the hot shower felt great after a dip in the ocean (our first hot shower since Nepal). The same woven bamboo panels covered the exterior walls facing the ocean and lined the underside of the roof. Hanging roll-up bamboo shades helped filter the strong sunlight. It was just wonderful to sit back and enjoy the sweeping views of Senggigi bay with the unmistakable rising form of Bali’s Gunung (Mt) Agung in the distance. To our far right, a small palm lined peninsula, which forms an arm of the immediate bay, sits within the framing silhouette of Agung and is a popular local fishing spot. The beach is an unusual color, a mixture of black and orange, which has the effect of making the clear ocean waters look a dark green. The beach drops off quickly and the surging waves crash with the sound like someone shaking out a heavy rug. A narrow band of white clouds develops on the horizon, creating a distinctly flat line on their underside, while the upper stories billow in random forms. The mornings are usually clear and a slight breeze blows off the water.

    The modest garden below is shaded by two big coconut palms, a decorative type of bamboo lines the perimeter walls along two sides and various other exotic plantings and small trees complete the greenery. The sun sets directly infront and produced some spectacular skies, while the full moon was with us for the duration of our 3-day stay.

    Every morning a small armada of out-rigger boats with multi-colored triangular sails, head out across the bay to their fishing grounds. They come from the many small villages that dot the coast and head in a southerly direction, passing before us like a yachting extravaganza. Occasionally we see one of these boats just off our beach, drop its net and make a big sweeping circle indicated by white floats on the surface, trapping the fish within. It’s hard work for the two-man crew hauling in the net, especially if it is a good catch. There are no fancy fish finder devices on these rigs, only knowledge of the bay learned over generations.

    North of Senggigi, the coast is spectacular, with precipitous cliffs dropping off into sheltered bays and lagoons of aquamarine and emerald green. Acres of coconut groves fill the flat terrain between the beach and the steep green hillsides, which form the foothills surrounding Mt.Rinjani. The fishing villages are conveniently located within the protective framework of these groves, close to their moored boats. In the distance we could see the 3 Gilli Islands, which are only a short boat ride from the mainland. Over the past few years they have become a popular destination with the tourist crowd, noted for their white sandy beaches and excellent coral reefs.

    Lombok's approximate 20% population of Hindus (mainly of Balinese extraction), are loosely centered around the main city of Mataram and neighboring areas. Not only is it evident in the distinct architectural features, but also in the surrounding rural sectors where the agricultural land is artfully managed.

    We took a ride through the foothills, winding up through single lane tracks and backroads to the village of Sesaot. A crystal clear river flowed through here with cascading waterfalls and towering trees that created a shady canopy along its banks. This village backs up to the old growth forest that forms part of the Rinjani National Park. It was evident that many of these big trees had been aggressively thinned out by local woodcutters, and the practice continues today. Huge milled slabs of wood were stacked up outside small roadside lumberyards, much of the work being done by handsaws.

    Not far from Sesaot, is the sacred Hindu Temple of Suranadi. In the central courtyard, there is a clear spring pool inhabited by eels, which are quite an attraction and are by no means underfed. Accustomed to handouts, they will gently take pieces of hardboiled egg from your hand.

    Bali beckoned again and so we made tracks for Lembar harbor, cycling the flat roads that followed the coastline. The seas were unusually calm on this day and we made it back to Padangbai with barely a noticeable pitch and roll. It was 6pm by the time we arrived, with only an hour’s worth of daylight to make the 11km ride to Candidasa. Mount Agung was clearly visible at this time and looked wonderful under a red tinged dusk sky. Our beachfront bungalow on this night was a far cry from the pleasurable features of Senggigi, but served only as a temporary overnight stop.

    The following morning we visited Tenganan, Bali Aga Village, a center of the original Balinese, who predate the Majapahit arrival. The walled village has a central avenue that steps up the gentle slope of a hill. Running its length on both sides are neat rows of houses (many of which have become storefronts) and down the middle, next to the flanking cobblestone walkways are a number of thatched pavilions for local public use. People of Tenganan are reputed to be conservative and resistant to change (except that they have embraced the tourist trade and we did see a couple of satellite dishes!), clinging to traditions and a way of life that has continued for centuries. One of Tenganan's famous traditions is its weaving of the highly prized double ‘Ikat’ cloth, primarily woven for ceremonial purposes (but you can certainly buy one if you have 400 – 500 dollars to spare). It is an extremely involved process, where the cotton threads are hand spun and pre-dyed, both warp (lengthwise) and weft (crosswise). The dying is particularly complicated because the finished design has to be considered at this early stage. At each dipping, sections of thread that are not due to receive color are ‘Ikatted’ or ‘bound together’ with a dye resistant fiber. A separate tying-and-dying is undertaken for each color, which is to appear in the finished piece of cloth. Multiple dippings are often required to achieve the desired depth of color (absorption) and it takes up to one year to complete this process alone. All of the colors come from natural sources, the most complex to extract are the blues which originate from the indigo plant and red rust color from the bark of the Kombu tree; purples and browns can be achieved by over dying either of these colors with the other. All stages in the production of Ikat are carried out by the women of the village – who plant, harvest and spin the cotton, create the dyes and color the threads and finally weave the material on simple handlooms.

    It was fascinating to see examples of these different stages of production, through to the beautifully completed double Ikat cloths. Tradition dictates that a certain number of these pieces be made each year for ceremonial purposes, and as one shopkeeper informed us, if they where profitable to make, then many more villages would do so.

    The map indicated a short cut from Tenganan, towards our next destination of Tirtagangga. As it turned out, it was no more than a simple jungle track, which abruptly ended for us at a point where we would have needed to physically carry our fully loaded bikes up a steep and rocky path. Backtracking to the coast and once again following the main road, we headed up the lower slopes of Mt. Agung. Tirtagangga Water Palace was built in 1947 by the Rajah of Almapura. It has a series of large terraced pools and fountains that interconnect and are fed by a spring. The crystal clear waters were cold but refreshing after the long up hill cycle. We decided to continue on to Tulamben, crossing the entire lower eastern flank of Bali and down to the coast once more. Tulamben was nothing more than a tiny fishing village until a US cargo ship, the USAT Liberty sank offshore and became a magnet for coral, fish and subsequently divers. It is heavily encrusted with a wealth of colorful corals and sea flora, schools of fish and reef dwelling creatures. The wreck is situated only a couple of hundred of feet off the black stone beach in about 60 feet of water. It is truly a superb site and is Bali’s most popular diving location. Dive shops in other areas within a day's drive bring their clients here and it can become a bit of an underwater zoo at times. Staying in Tulamben has the advantage of getting a head start on the crowds that typically appear between midmorning and midafternoon. The dive master and myself entered the water around 8:30 am and encountered only three other divers on the wreck. The visibility was good and the moderately strong current ceased to be a factor once we were in the protective embrace of the sunken ship. Tulamben also offers a wall dive, where the reef drops off steeply into deep waters and finally there is the ‘coral garden’ which is supposedly another quality site. So if you are a diver this is certainly a worthwhile place to visit, otherwise it offers little else.

    From Tulamben it was off to Lovina on the north coast of Bali.   Lovina is a busy little ocean front strip, similar in ways to Senggigi, but in our opinion not quite as pretty.  A very busy main road that parallels the beach has the effect of containing the great majority of development within a narrow band of land that backs up to the waters edge.  Here you will find a concentration of hotels, restaurants, and shops tightly packed into the small space.  A black sand beach and clear waters are the main attraction and there is also a coral reef just offshore.   The local men with boats offer sunset cruises and dolphin watches.  Lovina gave us an opportunity to relax a little and catch up with communications.

    One of the most inspiring aspects of our two and a half day stay here, was that our hotel (Manggala) had a new building under construction and we were able to watch local artisans at work.  All over Bali there’s a wealth of fantastic carved stone imagery that adorns temples, entranceways, doorways, perimeter walls, etc.   I had been formally under the impression that much of what we had been looking at had either been cast in molds or carved directly into the hard stone (though aspects of construction are achieved in this manner).  Watching the craftsmen across the courtyard daily, we learned another approach commonly practiced in Bali.  Temporary walls of brick are set up around the window frames and doorways, acting as retaining molds, into which is poured a liquid mix of sifted black sand and cement.  The cement is allowed to set-up for 30 minutes, just long enough for the mixture to become firm but sculpt able.  The bricks are then removed and the artists begin carving directly into the rough mass, essentially creating imagery in high relief, like carving in soft clay.   There is about a one-day window of opportunity, in which the hardening cement can be worked – so the men must be clear about their design and direction of the finished piece.

     In the case of one completed window frame, which was executed in three stages and took just over two days work, it resulted in a swirling concentration of floral motifs, fleur-de-lis and scrolls, all elegantly blended and visually flowing.   It was incredible to watch these young men compose freely in this manner, designing and sculpting the motifs as they went.  These skilled individuals have grown up in a village whose tradition and craft have been handed down over the generations.  They worked as close-knit team, each responsible for an aspect of the job and even lived communally within the small building that they were adorning.
At the end of each workday we would see them gather in front, surveying the days progress and talking about their collaborative creation.  These men thought it very strange that I would be so interested in what they did for a living - taking notes and photos and asking questions, but eventually became accustomed to my curiosity.  Seeing this type of work being created and understanding the lengthy investment of time and process necessary for completion of even the simplest motifs, gave us a greater appreciation of all the decorative elements that are widespread throughout Bali.

    While based in Lovina, we hired a motorbike again and made a big looping circumnavigation of the area, first up to Sawan via a dirt track only fit for moto-cross bikes.  Sawan is one of only two villages on Bali to produce the Gamelan instruments, made from beaten and formed bronze.  Unfortunately for us, there was little activity on this day as the village was still in the midst of its ‘Kuningan’ festival celebrations.  Additionally, the man responsible for the bulk of production had relocated his workshop outside the village so as not to disturb his neighbors with all the banging!  We continued up the steep winding road that leads to a vista point overlooking Lake Bunyan and Lake Tamblingan.

     The panoramic views stretched for miles out over the north shore of Bali.  It was actually quite cool at these higher elevations, with pockets of mist bathing the fertile landscape.  Some of the surrounding scenery was within the National Park boundary and easily distinguished by old growth forests that added a rich, textured layer of deep green to the highly cultivated and farmed landscape.   Many of the north-facing slopes in this area are planted with coffee trees and the rich aroma of roasting beans fills the air as you pass by the villages engaged in the production of this crop.  Our route brought us back around to ‘air panes’ meaning ‘hot spring’, just outside the town of Banjar.  It is quite an attraction for locals and tourists alike.  Passing the gauntlet of roadside vendors that lead up to the entrance, you then enter a natural bowl that has been landscaped with a variety lush tropical plantings.  The hot waters have been artfully channeled into a series of rectangular formal pools of varying sizes and depths, through decoratively carved fountain spouts.

    The following morning we headed back to Ubud, which essentially brought us to the end of our stay in Bali.
What we experienced in a little over a month is just a tiny sampling of the huge archipelago that makes up Indonesia, and it would take many lifetimes to fully experience the great diversity of landscape and culture that exists here.
We hope to return again soon.