Indonesia in pictures

Boats, karaoke, and the first painful goodbye

So we continued our month-long paradise sojourn. We spent lots of time relaxing at Bintang Beach Bungalows, hanging out with our new Indonesian friends and fellow travellers.

Shout outs to James and Laura from the USA; Felicia from Sweden and Gwen from Holland. Not to mention the guy who looked just like John Locke from Lost – a very weird encounter when you're on a desert island! 

And special mentions for Danny, Tim and Larissa from Germany; the beautiful, classy Marga; and Paul, Paul, Emmanuel and Kerry from the UK. Thank you for the music!

Dave and I thoroughly enjoyed being long-term residents at the bungalows, sitting in our spots at the bar, imparting our hard-earned (?!) knowledge of the island to newcomers like sage locals, and reaping the benefits of being well established customers – such as extra helpings of fruit salad, free chips, and use of the bicycles when we needed to do a run to the shops.

Speaking of bikes, one of our favourite and most amusing novelties on the island were the ice cream vendors who, since there's no motorised transport on the Gilis, cycle round with an coolbox strapped to the front of their bikes and a loudspeaker playing out the jingle announcing their approach. So funny!

Danny, Tim and Larissa were lovely and quickly became firm friends and partners for sharing music and playing hours and hours of cards. Our 'Shit Head' tournaments (Becky: UK, Dave: Australia, Danny: Germany, and Ali: Indonesia) were fiercely fought battles for international supremacy. Shame we didn't keep score.

Dave, me, Danny & Ali

Marga, Emmanuelle & Paul

We also enjoyed the local kitty soap opera. There was a serious love square going on, which was very entertaining... Sambal the resident cat had a girlfriend (Mrs Sambal) who was being wooed by Marley, the big black cat from Legend, the reggae bar further down the coast. Then there was Mama Cat, who was looking after the last surviving kitten of her litter of four, who we're pretty sure was the first lady in Sambal's life, as the kittens all looked very much like him! She and Mrs Sambal really didn't get on; there were a few stand offs and at least one cat fight. Who needs TV?!

Sambal. It's tough being so in demand!

Mrs Sambal 

Dave and I had a lot of fun messing about on boats when we were on the Gilis, including a couple of day trips.

You can easily do ferry hops between the three islands; Gili Trawangan is the 'party' island, Gili Meno is the really quiet one, and Gili Air is somewhere in between (the Goldilocks island - juuuuuust right). We paid a visit to Gili T for a day, which is bigger and slicker than Air and with a slightly more commercial edge and not quite so laid back. 

You can definitely tell it's the party island – mainly from the groups of very hungover looking teens dragging their flip-flops to a local eatery for a fry-up, and the pretty blatant marketing of hallucinogenic fungi.

It's still very beautiful though and we walked about half way around the coast then cut inland to find somewhere for lunch and looked around the shops before hopping on the late-afternoon ferry back to Gili Air. When we got back it was quite a relief to return to the chilled place we were calling home! And like the pros we are, we made it back just in time for happy hour. As we sat drinking our Bintangs and munching some free popcorn in Blues Corner Cafe bar, looking out at the beach, we saw a kingfisher come down and land on the sand, gobble something down and then fly away. Sadly it was too quick for us to get a picture but take our word for it that it was very pretty and exciting. Not as thrilling as the other wildlife sighting we were soon to be treated to however... the indigenous Indonesian sand digger monster!

A few days later, we decided to venture out on a snorkelling trip and go out on a boat with a group. It was a pretty good bargain at about a fiver each. We were up early and both very excited to get into the crystal clear turquoise waters that we'd heard are so perfect for seeing tropical underwater life. However, the further the boat got away from the shore, and the deeper the water got, the more freaked out I got, until by the time it had anchored and everyone was getting their gear on, I was in full-on panic attack mode! I was just really scared of getting into the deep open water and could hardly move! But Dave calmed me down and as soon as he said "You don't have to go in if you don't want to" I was fine, and stayed very happily on the boat, sunning myself on deck, looking at the reef through the glass bottom and taking photos of Dave in the water. He had three really good dives and saw three turtles, lots of tropical fish and starfish. And I managed to see a turtle through the glass-bottom, so was really pleased with that.

During our last week, we even managed to venture off of the island over-night - quite a wrench! - when Ali took us over to Lombok. Dave and I jumped in an outrigger early one morning and were met by Ali at the harbour in Bangsal. He'd arranged a friend of his to drive us to Senaru in the north of the island where we could visit some waterfalls. We trekked through some lush greenery, sometimes wading through icy cold, fast-running mountain springs, and pretty soon found ourselves sprayed by fresh tumbling water and swimming in freezing cold pools. The perfect antidote to the tropical heat! 

Afterwards we piled, dripping wet, back into the car and drove south to Mataram, where we visited Ali's mother-in-law's warung for something to eat. Ali and his friend ordered a range of local dishes, including fried fish, gado gado and tempe and we all tucked in. We also had the priviledge of meeting Ali's young wife and his 8 month old son Zidane who, like most children, was inexplicably enamoured with Dave and couldn't take his eyes off him! 

After lunch we were back in the car and off to Sengigi where we checked into a small homestay that Ali knew. It was cheap and simple and, most importantly, close to the local karaoke bars. Another friend of Ali's, Daffy, joined us for some early evening drinks, getting-to-know-you-chit-chat and invaluable 'Shit Head' lessons. 

Then it was time for Dave, Ali and I to hit the town, where we soon found a karaoke club we felt lived up to our weekend-rockstar status. Asian karaoke is something else! They seem to take it 100% seriously for one thing - no tongues in cheeks here - and the songs and videos are projected onto a big screen while the microphone's brought to you so you can serenade the audience from the comfort of your big leather sofa.

We watched about an hour of Indonesian 'classics' sung by the locals, with Ali helpfully translating the stories of the songs for us. There was a huge variation of themes: 

• boy loving girl who didn't love him anymore
• girl loving boy who didn't love her anymore
• boy loving girl who still loved him but was marrying someone else
• girl loving boy who still loved her but was marrying someone else. 

The ones that were most difficult to follow were the ones that didn't seem to have their own music video, so were accompanied by something entirely random. Our favourite of these was the video that was shown alongside a couple of different Indonesian unrequited love songs, in which a man in Canada went prospecting for gold.

Soon it was our turn, and Ali eagerly called over the man in charge of the microphones to ask if we could request some English-language songs. This was no problem and he brought us over slips of paper, telling us to write down what we wanted to sing. Doubtful, we asked if he had a list of the English songs they had. No problem, we were assured, just write what you want. So sticking to our failsafes, I scribbled down 'Son Of A Preacher Man' by Dusty Springfield and Dave chose 'Let's Dance' by David Bowie. Our slips collected, we waited patiently, drank our Bintangs and listened to the wonderful renditions from the locals. Pretty quickly the guy came back, shaking his head 'no', they had neither of these songs. What a shock! So we were ushered up to see the DJ in his booth. After a lot of failed suggestions and confused shaking of the head (Who are these 'Guns N Roses'? 'Pulp' who?) we fell back on two songs there was no way he wouldn't have... Mariah Carey's 'Hero' for me, and Brian Adams' 'Anything I Do I Do It For You' for Dave. And the reception! It was like X-Factor, when you sing a first line of the song and then the audience immediately gives you an encouraging round of applause (or that's what I've been told!) They were all so generous and enthusiastic, we couldn't not reward them with another – thank heavens the DJ had an everyone-knows-it classic so easy to duet: Queen's 'Bohemian Rhapsody' of course! It was such a great night, so much fun!!!

The next day, after a breathtaking drive along the bays of Lombok's north western coast, it was back to Gili Air for our last couple of days. And we were feeling more than a little pouty about it. We spent our time mostly at BBB, hanging out and partying with our friends, and soaking in the sights, sounds and smells of the wonderful island we'd come to love so much.

So lucky we had lots exciting adventures ahead of us to look forward to, or I don't think we'd have been able to leave!

Our contribution to Bintang's farewell sunglasses collection

More from Tembok and onto Ubud...

Jet lag finally kicked in with a vengeance on the Tuesday night and I spent most of it lying awake or in the bathroom with the door closed and the light on, perched on the side of the basin or lying in the empty bath reading (and finishing) The Midwich Cuckoos. The husband was struggling to sleep as well, so my shut-in was entirely self-sacrificing! The scheduled 8am yoga hatha session was an inevitable write-off but we made it to breakfast and feasted on the slightly odd assortment of offerings they lay on for, again, the Western palette (or at least what I assume they assume we eat).

The croissants and Swiss cheese, fairy cakes (a version of muffins?), scrambled eggs, streaky bacon, bread, butter and strawberry jam, pastries with candied peel, sweaty anaemic sausages (the latter two not for me!) and coffee filled the hole that no sleep had left. We whiled away some time by the pool; Dave baking in the sun and swimming to cool off, me reading in the shade (On The Road by Jack Kerouac; a very enjoyable wedding present). The pool at our resort was large and deep, and little birds that looked like swifts skimmed its surface as the days got later... catching bugs or cooling off, we assume.

That evening we had a Balinese BBQ and watched a traditional Kecak dance (the story of Sinurat and Sinurit). It was a small scale production, laid on by the resort for the guests, but it was visually and aurally stunning. Mesmerising! Forty or so men wearing Bali's traditional black and white checkered cloths and red sashes waved their hands and shouted and chanted in an amazingly intricate, a cappella rhythm. These guys were the 'backing dancers' to the characters acting out the main story of two brothers fighting over the love of a goddess. Classic. I was really pleased to get some photos capturing the action but without the chants of "cak-cak-cak" they'll never do the performance justice.

We enjoyed more indulgent spa treatments: a cucumber and aloe body wrap (the perfect after-sun pampering) and a 100 minute treat of massage, body scrub, milk masque and a flower bath. 

We also took a couple of classes; a cooking lesson where we made little deep fried dumplings made of grated galangal stuffed with palm sugar (deadly but delicious!) and a class learning to make the Balinese Boreh scrub, which used ginger, galangal, rice and cloves all pounded up with a heavy stone pestle and mortar. I used it the next day in the shower and it left me with super soft skin. I may be hand-making my Christmas gifts for the ladies this year!

One evening at dusk I took my trusty Canon down to our private black sand beach and snapped the the gorgeous tropical sunset. 

On our last day at Tembok, we filled up with a last big breakfast, packed our packs and settled our bill. It was another warm, cloudless day and the pool and sea mocked us with their sparkling, cool waters - we couldn't really get wet before our transfer to Ubud! But soon we were out on the road and I kept catching myself grinning at Dave with excitement. I'm enjoying what I assume to be the natural state of the backpacker: always looking forward to what's around the next corner.

We drove along in our little people carrier with brown and green mountains on one side and the ocean on the other, and begun our ascent to the mountain roads that would lead us inland. The roads over here seriously need to be seen to be believed... talk about taking lives into their own hands! But it's all done without a blink of concern, while us Westerners gaze on open mouthed and stricken at the complete disregard for safety. Guys on mopeds carried huge bamboo poles over one shoulder while steering with the other hand, or 50 or so coconuts or dead chickens expertly arranged and balanced across the back of the seat. What looked like whole families were also squeezed onto these bikes - probably four generations from little old ladies to tiny infants. They're all in flip-flops, or barefoot, and no one wears a helmet. In the other direction, trucks barreled around sharp corners, driven by men wearing an uncomfortable-looking amount of clothes; layered check shirts and denim jackets, and one was definitely wearing a woolly hat. Kids and dogs play on the roadside (no pavements) and the horns sound constantly in a gesture of warning when swinging around the bends. 

We passed through small villages - one called Madenan - full of what you'll have heard of/imagined, no doubt: beautiful small children playing in their yards; women bent over baskets, busy with some trade; men in traditional dress, smoking in groups; solemn youths peering through our car windows; tiny, elderly women carrying bundles of wood on their heads.

Later, we drove through the town of Kintamini and stopped to photograph Mount Batu - my first ever volcano! It was hazy, but still very impressive. Our driver Sugeng told us that tourists flock from miles around to eat in the restaurants overlooking the valley - open for lunch only to serve the crowds. Hawkers clamoured for our business and we smiled politely in refusal. My first encounter with an Asian public toilet left me unscathed. Kintamini was a thriving metropolis compared to what else we'd seen so far on Bali. Clearly doing well from the tourist trade, it thronged with banks, launderettes and shops selling souvenirs (sarongs, carvings etc) and Western brands like Walls and Oreos.

Outside of the town proper, we passed through groves and plantations growing oranges, tomatoes, cauliflower - and suddenly fruit and veg stalls were everywhere, their baskets displaying beautiful conical piles of delicious looking wares.

We stopped at a coffee plantation - clearly another massive tourist commodity, but charming. They grow, roast and serve the infamous Luwak coffee, which is first eaten, digested and 'reproduced' by the wild civit cat. Like Rick Stein before me, I couldn't tell a significant difference to standard coffee, but at about £3 a cup, it was still better value that Starbucks! 

In the giftshop, a Japanese family took a photograph of their small son with Dave. Whether they thought he was someone famous, or just a handsome white guy, we'll never know, but I have hilarious visions of them triumphantly producing the picture back home, only to be assured that their child doesn't have his arm around Jude Law, just some random. Dave took it all in good spirit and then we were back covering the final distance to our second hotel.

Nearing Ubud, the giftshops multiplied. And what a selection! There were a lot of wood carvings, but don't take that to automatically mean anything to do with Balinese culture... the oddest creations included very tall, very thin F1 drivers; detailed painted reliefs of Fred Flintstone, and tables full of little pointy Father Christmasses. The hippy contingent has also firmly made its mark on the local produce: didgeridoos,  dream catchers and bongos were pervasive.

Entering the town, we drove through a harangue of heavy traffic and activity, with tourists and locals alike busy in the late afternoon. We spied the much-desired Warung Ibu Oka, where they serve their famous sucking pig.

Our resort, Waka Di Ume, was just north of the town and after a day on the road we were pleased to be greeted with a large cool room, with a canopy bed decorated with tropical flowers in the shape of a heart. And so our second honeymoon week began...