The rest of the trip

We spent the last few days in Bali driving along the north coast, walking in the national park, driving south again, stopping at a temple and staying at Le Meridien at the famous temple of Tana Lot. That is one hotel I would really like to recommend (website).

Goody dropped us at the airport after an incident where we thought we'd lost him. He turned up in the perfume department of a duty free shop in Kuta, oblivious to the looks he was getting from the sales staff: we had got used to that special Goody smell but the ladies at the Chanel counter were not impressed. We said our goodbyes and gave him a good tip. I still couldn't help feeling sorry for him. Poor Goody, will he ever get over is angst?


Goody and David














Me relaxing at Le Meridien














Tana Lot at sunset


After that we had a couple of days back at Quinci and a few more days in Singapore. All good fun, needless to say.

And that concludes my summer blog 2006. Stories continue about Japan over on my regular blog http://mynardjo.tripod.com/blog See you there!

Permuteran

Goody was in goody form that day. He’d spent some time with his family and had a spring in his step. We continued driving along the north coast. It’s a lovely stretch and smells of clove and cinnamon. We stopped at a little town called Permuteran and took quite a while to find somewhere to stay as everywhere was either full or really overpriced. We ended up in a place that looked ok, but turned out to be a mozzie-infested hell hole. The air conditioning in our room would shut itself off every hour and we’d wake up hot and confused each time. Fortunately, we were under a mosquito net, but the bathroom was swarming.

The beach was pretty and quiet, again with that quirky, gravelly black sand.

A massage to remember

We didn’t feel the need for any fasting, psychic diagnostic therapy or chakra realignment, but we did take advantage of great massages available in Indonesia. In Lovina we booked massages at the hotel. We had been spoiled by Noor’s and Saab’s soft, chubby hands in Lombok and were pretty freaked out by an unfamiliar set in Bali. My lady was called Normina and looked 100. David’s lady (can’t remember her name) was a spring chicken in comparison at 66. Before any oil was put on our backs, we were treated to a dry hand press. It was a bit like being sand-papered. Normina’s hands were like old parchment. I don’t think she meant to be mean, but the massage really hurt. She couldn’t hear me whimpering as she was deaf so continued squeezing and pummeling my skin, all the while grinning her one-tooth smile. David didn’t get off lightly; his lady squeezed so hard with her bony fingers that his wrist hurt for days afterwards. She had a solution “You buy Tiger Balm from me”. Normina started chanting “For bruise, for stomach, for sunburn” and other such uses. At least I think that’s what she was saying. It’s hard to understand someone who only has one tooth. We didn’t buy any of the magic ointment but perhaps we should have as it would have masked the way we smelled: of cheap biscuits (I think we had been massaged with palm oil).

"Health" treatments

Many people come to Bali for the health treatments. I knew someone once who came for a month of colonic irrigation to lose weight. We weren’t tempted by any of these treatments, but I’ll share some of the health services with you from the brochures I collected:

“ALTERNATIVE TREATMENT. Ibu Marlena brings several incredible abilities to her healing sessions, including an uncanny ability to diagnose through her psychic powers. Additionally, using her hands to gently massage and manipulate muscles and soft tissue, she is able to effect sometimes miraculous healing. $30 a session.”

“DEEP TISSUE BODY WORK. The deep tissue body worker uses “acupressure” points to find the correct blockages of stored up energy or emotions. Deep Tissue work balances both the body and the minds and allows for higher mental and physical functioning. $30 per session”. Perhaps we should have told Goody about it.

“TOTAL TISSUE CLEANSING. This involves a process of removing toxins, parasites and other unwanted organic and inorganic material from the digestive tract, the blood and lymph systems, and the cells and tissues of the body.

Fasting supplements: $9 per day, $54 per week
Colon hydrotherapy $50 per session, $130 for 3 sessions.
Six day packages: $314”

Forgive my presumptuousness, but doesn’t the liver do that? Anyway, in case you are tempted by these treatments, call Ubud 62 (361) 974-393 and spend your week in Bali in an unforgettable way.

The great dolphin chase

The mosque woke us up at 4.30 and we were not impressed (the north of Bali has the highest concentration of Muslims on the island). This meant we were already awake when our alarm went off at 5.30 to get us up for our dolphin watching trip.

The boats were waiting on the shore and we queued up with mainly Dutch and Spanish holiday makers to board one. The boats don’t look particularly sea-worthy. They look like insects with a long skinny body and legs. No one bothers with the minor formality of life jackets and you just get in and sit in a line behind the driver and motor out to sea.

The sun was just coming up and displaying some wonderful colours in the sky. The sea was calm and I had fun for a while taking photographs and enjoying the views of the mountains gradually appearing. I had almost forgotten why we were out there, when someone shouted “delfín!”. Three dolphins jumped out of the golden water just ahead of us. We weren’t the only ones to spot them. About 20 little boats changed course and headed towards the sighting. If they had been still there, we would have had them surrounded. It felt like we were on a dolphin hunting trip rather than a dolphin watching trip! We actually didn’t see any more for an hour and when we did it was the same performance; all the boats headed right towards them motors on full throttle. It seems such a short-sighted approach. Many tourists come to Lovina just to see the dolphins and many local families rely on the income that provides. Why oh why then do they mess it up and chase the dolphins away? Apparently, not so long ago, you could see dolphins from the shore every morning, but now you have to go further and further out to try to spot them. It was Monkey Disco* all over again.















*Monkey Disco is one of our favourite (boring?) travel stories. Years ago on our first trip to Sri Lanka, we did a safari in Yala national park. Our driver/guide tried to make sure we got a good show and seemed disappointed when the animals weren’t doing anything entertaining. For example, we came across a huge number of pink flamingos near a lake at dusk. We were happy to observe this beautiful spectacle from a distance, but the driver wanted to drive right into them so that we could see them fly. Fortunately, we talked him out of it. Whenever we came across some monkeys quietly hanging out in a tree, the cretinous driver would rev his engine to scare and irritate the poor things. He’d look very pleased with the result, give us the thumbs up and yell “monkey disco” as the monkeys jumped and danced around in annoyance. A very extreme example of guides messing with the balance of nature in order to entertain the tourists and being too thick to realize that they may be harming the very thing that brings the tourists there in the first place. The sad thing about the Sri Lanka case was that there was a park ranger in the car at the time who did nothing.

Lovina

The place Goody found us to stay was a “real” holiday resort (Aditya website) full of real European package tourists, kids entertainment, organized trips and a swimming pool with a swim-up bar. It was a huge place set in lovely grounds, but had definitely seen better days. It was good fun for a night as there was a street a short walk away with a strip of bars and restaurants. We’d found Bali-dorm, or was it Bali-molinos, Bali Island or even Bali-mun? (obscure references to British holiday resorts and an estate on the north side of Dublin in case you’re wondering).

Indonesia is amazing. At sunset more volcanoes appear on the horizon. This time we could see Java. Dozens of hawkers (lurkers) lined the wall which separated the resort from the beach shouting to get our attention. So much for a quiet stroll at sunset…

The Goodies

Does anyone remember The Goodies television program from the 70s? The theme tune went “Goody, goody goody yum yum”. We can’t help singing it wheneve we talk about Goody. Poor Goody.

Goody's existential angst

Lovina is a series of villages on a stretch of black sand beach where a few resorts have sprung up. Goody dropped us off at one of these resorts and went of to see his family in Singaraja. I was pleased that he had somewhere proper to stay that night. Goody is having some personal issues. He is a nice guy and a very good driver, so from that respect we have been very lucky. We weren’t sure how to deal with his bouts of existential angst however. We’d be motoring along merrily, soaking in the fabulous views, and interesting street life when Goody would build up to one of his speeches that went something like this:

Goody (serious expression, one hand going up): Jo, David, I sorry.
Us: Eh? Why?
Goody: I sorry. I serious.
Us (baffled): What do you mean?
Goody: I sorry. I tired. My back. I serious. Your holiday no good.
Us: No, our holiday is great! You are doing a good job. We are happy.
Goody: My back. I serious. What should I do?
Us (wondering where this was going. Was it a scam to fleece us for doctor’s fees?): Um. Have a massage? A hot bath? Do some stretching exercises?
Goody: I serious. I play chess. I win. Lately I don’t win. Why? I sorry. I serious.

We had several such conversations with Goody and it was very difficult to follow his thread. We think he was trying to tell us that he was suffering from depression and was apologizing for not being the all-singing all-dancing, entertaining driver. We actually liked that he was quiet. We didn’t want another Zachariah or Mohammed or (worse) Ping. He obviously wanted to talk about his depression, but we weren’t much use. Poor Goody. Usually once we’d had one of our little chats, he’d brighten up a bit. It’s as if he needed to get it out once a day. When he started with the “I sorry…” bit, it did occur to us that he might be apologizing for something he was about to do like drive us over a cliff or something.

North Bali

We enjoyed staying at Apa Kabar Villas, but I was worried about Goody. When we have hired drivers in the past, their accommodation was always taken care of. This time, when we checked in, Goody just kind of loitered outside reception. I didn’t want him to sleep in the car, but we had been told that the fee we had paid included the driver’s expenses. Fortunately, the hotel did find him somewhere to stay for free. His increasing dubious body odor suggested that a shower wasn’t made available however.














Soon enough it was time to leave Amed and head further along the north coast to Lovina. The old SUV seemed even more uncomfortable today. Everything seemed so bumpy as the suspension and shock absorbers both seemed to be shot. It was also much hotter. Goody told us that having the air con on meant that the engine wouldn’t perform well. We arrived at a temple and got out to have a look. I was so hot and uncomfortable and grouchy. Goody must have noticed me whining as he switched the air conditioning on after that.

We didn’t want a guide, but an official from the temple insisted on showing us around. He was a right barrel of laughs. He greeted me with “Are you having your period?” I already knew that women are asked not to visit temples at their time of the month, so this personal question didn’t faze me. Next we had to be purified which involved being sprinkled with holy water and rice. The rice clings to the water on your forehead. We also needed to be decked out with sarongs and sashes before we were deemed ready to climb the steps to the temple. The guide delivered a dead pan description of the temple and lists of facts and figures he had memorized. I don’t remember anything he said apart from something about there having been a temple on the site for 5000 years. Could that be true? The shrine was a new one but housed some lovely old statues of Ganesh and Shiva. We couldn’t go anywhere the near the statues, of course. Our misery-guts guide made it clear that there was an invisible line. Would we contaminate the statues if we went any closer?

Outside the temple there was a very festive atmoshphere. There were quite a few Westerners decked out in white flowing gowns. Hindu converts? What makes someone from, say Rotherham or Darwin become a Hindu? I wonder how easy it is for a someone not brought up in a Hindu society to grasp the complex system of gods and legends.

Fish

We have seen more carp here than anywhere else on the planet. Whenever there’s a pond, there’s carp. I always find them really creepy: those big sucking lips, the way they stick out of the water to beg for food and the way the fish fight each other for bread making those revolting sucking/kissing noises in the process. They really are abominations. David loves them and was pleased to discover that we actually had a carp pond IN OUR BATHROOM. You can watch them as you sit on the loo. I tried to pretend they weren’t real.

Amed

We were heading for Amed. We had read about the good (black sand) beaches there and quiet vibe. Sounded just the thing after hectic Ubud. We were so sick of being hassled everywhere we went.

We were charged 3 dollars each to enter the town of Amed. Is that legal? The official tickets seemed to indicate that they actually have permission to charge tourists to enter a town. That was the second time we had experienced that. With Made we drove to a road where we could look at a volcano and were charged an “entrance tax”.















After a lot of driving, we wanted to find somewhere to stay right away. After looking a few crummy, dark dilapidated places, we finally found a lovely place called Apa Kabar Villas (homepage). Unfortunately, it was very expensive. We managed to negotiate a deal and spent the next 20 hours or so in Amed. Across the sea we could see Lombok only at sunrise where we could make out the outline of Rinjani. It was funny to think that we were up Rinjani 11 days ago. We remembered looking across the sea to Bali from Sengigi beach on Lombok – only visible at sunset.















It was nice to stay somewhere where there were real actually flesh and blood guests. There are 12 villas and about 8 are occupied.

Cave temple

After the water temple, we headed to a cave temple dating from the 11th century. We enjoyed climbing the steep steps down into the lovely valley below and looking at the different temple components. Climbing back up again in the heat was a bit hard going, but it felt good to be exercising again. We’ve been blobs since Rinjani.

Water temple

We drove to a water temple and saw three levels within the complex: the part for animals dominated by a huge carp pond, the part for humans and the higher part for the gods. Goody explained the deal with the offerings. To us they look like a random basket of flowers and snacks, but each leaf or piece of grain has a deeper significance to Hindus. Particular colour lowers are meant for certain gods and so on. Goody also gave us an explanation about the swastika symbol, but he lost me a bit. Goody’s swastikas seemed to have a lot more than 8 sides….

On the road

Whether Goody would turn out to be a goody or a baddy would remain to be seen, but driving out of Ubud, I was glad that I wasn't at the wheel. Here are some of the things that drivers have to avoid on the road:

- lounging dogs
- running chickens
- piles of drying grain
- piles of sticks ready to go on cremation pyres
- parked vans taking up an entire lane
- Western tourists on Bikes
- more chickens
- pot holes
- children playing
- dogs strolling side by side taking up a lane
- geese and ducks crossing the road
- more chickens
- processions of marching kids
- motorbikes with whole families on them
- trucks coming in the opposite direction on the wrong side of the road
- piles of half-carved Buddhas waiting to be finished off
- parked cars

We passed through beautiful rice terraces and I was glad I could enjoy the views instead of having to watch the road.

Catalogue of Drivers

It was time to leave Ubud and explore different parts of the island. We could take the Backpacker Express shuttle bus, we could hire a car or we could hire a car with a driver. We opted for the latter – we’d seen the roads and the huge numbers of unemployed taxi drivers so it seemed the logical option: give someone a job and enjoy Bali in comfort from the back of an SUV.

Our driver was called Goody. We’d be with him for 5 days and we hoped we’d get along. We have hired drivers in many places and it’s hit and miss. Here are some of the good ones:

Syria – The guy who drove us from Damascus to Kraq de Chevaliers was lovely

Sri Lanka – We went all over the island with Neal and even hired him again on a subsequent visit. We also hired two nice boys to take us to the hill country on a previous visit who were very good (pictures).

Thailand – Uncle Pooey (Gurg’s host father) was a very sweet man who drove us from Bangkok to Ayuthia

Vietnam – Than van Tran (The Man) drove us from Danang to Hoi An and then up to Hue (photos here).

Iran – A very sweet man drove us around Shiraz and to Persepolis (pictures)


We have also had our fair share of dodgy drivers....


Jordan – Mohammed, the guy who took us to some castles and up to Amman, drove us mad and did not shut up (pictures)

Morocco – The guy was nicknamed “Slipshod” by Taggy as he drove carelessly through the Atlas Mountains as we looked nervously down at the burnt out vehicles below in the valley.

Malaysia – Zachariah, the guy who drove us to Malacca who kept saying how handsome David was (even without a mustache) and that we should have kids (blog).

Vietnam – Ping drove us from Hanoi into the Vietnamese countryside. He didn’t speak much English, but insisted on using his few words to jabber away non-stop anyway; “we go Baba Lake we get big caaaa Baba Lake many tourists like. Baba laaaaaaak big caaaaa”. He was a terrible driver, overtaking on a bend in the thick fog. He eventually went postal when we asked to cut out trip short by a day (We could take of more of Ping) (photos).

We wondered whether Goody would be goody or a baddy.

The Others

Being the only guests in a small resort can be exhausting. We were always the center of attention, had no anonymity, everyone was trying that little bit too hard to please us, and the slow, lonely breakfasts were starting to make us feel edgy. We actually began to wonder whether we were the first ever guests. What was really funny was the Fawlty-esque ways in which the hotel staff tried to pretend that there were in fact other guests. Here are some episodes from our stay:

- The room was heavily discounted and we were upgraded to the room next to the pool
- When we phone to arrange pick up from the airport, they knew exactly who I was.
- There was a sad charade of laying 5 or more tables for breakfast each morning – including a table for 4 people!
- The sun loungers are set up every morning with towels and flowers – except the morning that we were on a trip with Made. Who else was around to use the pool?
- One night I asked for an extra pillow and at first they told me that they didn’t have any spare ones. I almost laughed out loud as we knew there were 19 unoccupied rooms they could just take one from.
- The resort offers all sorts of courses from woodcarving to Indonesian cooking – all taught by Made, not resident experts as advertised.
- One day Made was a few minutes late to collect us from reception to take us into Ubud. He apologized and explained that he had been out with other guests. What other guests?! Our guess was that he had been sent out for milk as there wasn’t any for breakfast.
- Another day he picked us up from town and told us about his busy day ferrying guests to and from Ubud. We were too polite to ask where the other guests were….
- We remembered the night that we had arrived and ate an embarrassingly slow dinner at the lonely restaurant. We had assumed that everyone else was out partying. Of course, there was no one else.

This has the making of a great Fast Show skit, or a cheesy horror movie. We did wonder if the entire staff was delusional.

Ubud Scenes

Ubud was a beautiful town, but not quite the tranquil haven we had been lead to believe it was. Here are some scenes from daily life:

- hounds
- chickens
- bamboo baskets of offerings
- ladies carrying trays of offerings on their heads
- local ladies in (saucy?) basques and lace blouses
- people bathing and doing laundry in the “river” running through the village beside the road (sewer?)
- The Easy Riders: 50-something silver haired Western hippies on mopeds
- Statues of demons outside temples and homes to scare away evil spirits dressed in a black and white checked sarongs with a flower tucked behind one ear.
- Local men in sarongs, heavy metal t-shirts and bandanas
- Japanese tourists getting on and off shuttle buses from Kuta
- Shops selling sarongs, carvings and other handicrafts (shop keepers hassling you to come in, not leaving you alone for a second to browse and not putting prices on anything. Consequently, I hardly bought anything. Too much pressure)
- Families of 4 or 5 on one moped
- Missing paving stones over the pavement exposing the sewer below
- 3 year old driving mopeds (sitting on their father’s laps)
- “hello taxi/ transport/ newspaper/ sarong/ chopsticks/ massage/ statue/ show/ hostel…”
- Women carrying huge unsupported baskets on their heads
- Art shops with dozens of canvases all stacked up against a wall and no one looking at them


A local hound tucks into the biscuits on the offering trays at an Ubud shrine.

Fire

As the newspapers testify, Indonesia likes a good fire. Every summer, farmers in Sumatra and Indonesian Borneo (illegally) clear their land with fire, causing smog uf unhealthy levels over South East Asia. We remember the dangerously polluted Kuala Lumpur last summer (see blog) and it’s happening again this year, despite warnings and criticism.

It’s not just the farmers of Sumatra and Kalimantan who like a good blaze: it’s something of a national pastime.

The first thing I noticed as I got off the plane in Lombok was the smell of burning. In Sengiggi and Materam, we noticed lots of small domestic fires to burn garbage.

Up Rinjani, there is a strictly no dumping policy which means everything gets burned, plastic bottles, the lot.

Yesterday we witnessed a cremation. This only happens every two years at an auspicious date in the Hindu calendar. First of all, people carry statues of horses through the streets at high speed while the crowds cheer and sing. This symbolizes a new phase of death for the deceased. The effigies are carried to the cremation ground along with the usual offerings of flowers and fruit and burned. It was one of those occasions when I felt totally detached, unable to grasp the cultural significance. I remember feeling that at the Yemanja festival in Salvador de Bahia too (see old blog).

The final fire reference is of course the fire dance. I’m not big on dance, but this was good. It is an example of a Kecak dance. There are no accompanying instruments, but music is provided by a choir of men wearing checked sarongs chanting “chak-a-chak-a-chak-a-chak-a”.

Action-packed day out

Today, we made someone’s day: we agreed to go on a tour with Made. He was so excited. Actually we were too, a private car would be the only way to see the things that we had heard about and we had a very interesting day.

We:
- attended a barong dance (more about that later)
- watched a cremation procession
- visited a 200 year old temple
- visited 1000 year old baths and a cave temple
- Saw 14th century cave paintings
- went to a spice garden (or “The Spicy” as Made called it)
- got a good view of Batur volcano
- watched a procession of marching kids celebrating national day
- relented and agreed to be taken to a tourist restaurant
- visited “my brother’s” woodcarving shop
- Had afternoon tea complete with yummy green pancakes filled with sweet coconut paste

Where do you reckon they're from?

We’d be sitting at a café and we’d spot a couple walking past. She’d have dyed brown hair and be dressed in high-heeled sandals and short shorts and sporting a Louis Vuitton handbag (hanging from the middle of her arm). Or perhaps she would be wearing black knee socks with the sandals. He has long, layered hair, is wearing flip-flops and surfer gear, carrying a handbag and wearing a goofy straw hat. They take it in turns to get their photo taken next to a statue of a demon while giving the peace sign. Or often they’d be taking pictures of their nasi goring. Yep, Ubud is full of Japanese tourists. Even though we find them sort of cute and funny, you have to admire their approach to holiday activities. They are such unashamed tourists. They buy everything, take photos of everything and are not embarrassed to show that they are having a good time. We Europeans act too cool. It’s as if we see naked statues of demons on street corners everyday.

At a Fire Dance we went to, tourists were encouraged to come up after the show and take pictures of the dancers in their costumes (below). The Europeans came up, almost reluctantly, and took one or two discrete shots and thanked the dancers and then sat down. The Japanese were up there making the most of the photo op. Of course, they wanted to be in the pictures posing and doing the goofy peace sign. The actors must be used to them and all did the peace sign too! Last semester one of my students told me that her “dream come true” would be to get her picture taken next to Mickey Mouse at Tokyo Disney (yes, she’s 20 – don’t get me started). I wonder if I will ever understand Japan at all.

Art in Ubud

One of the reasons we decided to come to Ubud was that we had heard that there was a buzzing art scene and where better to start the discovery than at the Museum of Fine Arts. This gave us a good overview of the various schools of Balinese art. The museum itself is gorgeous and set in some beautiful gardens – lots of thick greenery, statues and streams. I’d love a garden like that, but where else could it exist apart from in Bali? Inside the first building, we found out that a foreigner called Rudolf Bonnet was a huge influence in Ubud and had helped to establish the first permanent gallery. The art of all types definitely had a theme going: daily life. The paintings were very busy and packed full of activity. They were often so dense that they appeared like they were moving. I was quite surprised by this art, as when I think of Bali, I think of quiet, tranquil scenes with terraced rice paddies and swaying palm trees. There were also paintings depicting local festivals, dances and Hindu stories.

Monkey Forest

Our new friend Made always wanted know our plans. One mouthful into the nasi goreng breakfast and he was popping up with “What are your plans for today?”. Every morning. He was keen to arrange trips and tours for us and was a little disappointed when we said we just wanted to wander around Ubud and get a feel for the place. As the resort is in the middle of nowhere, we had to rely on Made to take us into Ubud whenever we wanted to go. He was very obliging, but it meant that we were very dependent on him. He was very protective of us and took care to give us advice on how to deal with shop keepers and taxi drivers and told us to call him if we got into trouble. What kind of place was Ubud? We were about to find out.

Ubud is tourist central. It seems to exist entirely for tourists. Every building is a shop, hotel or restaurant. Everyone who talks to you is selling you something or offering you taxi services. I can’t remember ever being anywhere quite so touristy. Agra perhaps?

Made dropped us off at the Monkey Forest and in we went. We had no peanuts or food on us which was just as well as the monkeys are vicious little buggers and would attack anyone for a sniff of fruit. They weren’t anything like their quiet cousins in Lombok. They are more likely to leave you alone if you have no food on you, but nevertheless one big monkey seemed interested in us. He spotted a bulge in the front of David’s shorts (his wallet – what did you think?), jumped up on his legs and started biting through the pocket. I wished I had been brave enough to get my camera out, but I’m afraid I froze – I didn’t want him on me! The monkey gave up after a minute or two and jumped down when he could sense no nuts or bananas (hahaha) but actually left teeth marks in David’s wallet!

We tried to avoid monkeys after that and explored the quiet part of the forest. It looks like an abandoned elf kingdom. Statues covered with moss, gates leading nowhere and damp caves and waterfalls nestled amongst the trees. There is also an impressive temple in the forest guarded by a troupe of “sacred” monkeys. The little ones are hairless and look like little scrawny old men.

Ubud

A young man called Made (pronounced Maa-day) picked us up from the airport and drove us to the hotel we had booked on the Internet a few weeks before (http://www.bhanuswariresort.com/index.html). We had chosen the town of Ubud because of its arts scene and famous mellow vibe. We drove for an hour and a half in the dark, but we could make out lots of ornate statues, temples, workshops and galleries. We were in Hindu Indonesia and it felt very different from anything we had ever seen before, even in India.

The resort was beautiful, but utterly deserted. Another ghost resort? Perhaps everyone else had retired for the night or were out on the town? Our room was downstairs with doors opening onto the pool terrace. Upstairs you could look out on rice fields and the organic garden from the restaurant.

Business Class on Merpati Air?

Our guidebook mentioned that regular ferries ran between Lombok and Bali. Some take as long as 8 or 10 hours, others as little as an hour. We planned to just show up at the pier and catch one of the fast ones to Bali today, so imagine our surprise when we found out that the fast ferries no longer run. Good job we checked before trying to get one. Not fancying a day out on a slow rusty boat, we bought a couple of plane tickets instead. Here we are aboard a Merpati flight sitting in row 1. Row 1 is not business class, there is only one class: cattle. David is glad at least as he has free extra leg room. We were the first to check in which meant we got the good seats, but a very long wait in the departure lounge of Materam Airport. We entertained ourselves with reading all the tourist brochures about Bali and practicing our Japanese: there were hundreds of leaflets and all in Japanese! They mainly advertised spas, coach trips, Japanese restaurants and surf shops. What made us laugh was that in Japanese Bali becomes バリ(Barry).

Brief pause during take-off….

You should have seen the plane shake and rattle at take-off! The noise was pretty scary too. It couldn’t be worse than when we took a light aircraft into southern Patagonia in a storm could it? (http://jomynard.tripod.com/traveljournal/index.blog?start=1100723149). I tried not to think too much about it until we landed safely in Barry 30 minutes later.

There was a “whoop” from the flight deck. Perhaps they were celebrating landing safely against all odds. Perhaps one of the crew said “That rubber band did the trick after all!” As we were getting off the plane we noticed that the lockers were held together with tape. I wouldn't want to see the engine. Why oh why did we buy a return ticket? We could have tried the other company, Lion Air (Motto: “We make people fly”) http://www.lionair.co.id/.

Lurkers at the Threshold

The only things that drive me mad are The Lurkers. “Lurkers at the Threshold” we call the people who hang around the beach entrance of Quinci waiting for someone to cross the threshold and then they pounce. They used well rehearsed sales pitches such as “hello………watch” (watch seller). I have already mentioned that business is slack in the tourist resorts in Lombok so you can’t really blame them, but it really must be hard trying to shift some of this stuff. The “watch” guy followed me down the beach one day and his watches really are hideous bless him. They are enormous - more like arm clocks. I told him that I already had a watch and he suggested buying one “for your mother for your father for your brother for your sister”. Can you imagine? “Hi Mum, I got you something from Indonesia! No, it’s not for the wall….”. Other lurkers sell friendship bracelets, cheap sarongs, cheap t-shirts, plastic necklaces and god-awful weathered looking handicrafts. Of course, they never sell anything to anyone on this well-heeled part of the beach. They need to diversify and try again with something that we might actually want. And stop lurking and hassling people. I have bought plenty of things from beach vendors on my travels when not being pressured: in Brazil we bought sarongs, caipirinhas and grilled kebabs, in Spain we bought sunglasses and Fanta Limon, in Thailand we bought sunblock got massages, in Sri Lanka we bought coconuts, in France we bought peanuts, even in Barry Island there was the “Fresh Doughnuts” guy.

Somehow the lukers learned my name – probably from Saab and Noor – so one day I heard someone shouting “Jo? Sarong?”, “Jo – T-shirt?” This was very annoying. It’s Dr. Mynard if you don’t mind. And, no I don’t want anything. Let me read my book in peace.

A simulation?

My watch tells me it’s Saturday 12th, but I have seriously lost all track of time. The last 3 or 4 days have been similarly uneventful and relaxing. The days begin with breakfast overlooking the sea watching shoals of fish jumping in the waves. We are always first up. Next come the couple from England who get up to put their towels down on the best sun beds. We have hardly left the resort the whole time we have been here. The place is so perfect that it seems like a simulation: The outdoor restaurant plays good music – chill out, Buddha Bar, classical, Bossa nova, jazz – all the stuff we play at home to relax. The food at the restaurant is light and flavorsome and trendy: steamed fish in ginger and so on. At night you feel like you are the only people dining at isolated little tables under a jasmine tree or on the beach. Each evening we sip exquisite cocktails as a perfect sun sets. A few hours later, a perfect moon rises in the cloudless sky. Everyday is sunny but temperatures are kept down by a refreshing light breeze. The pool is crisp and cool and deep and devoid of any kids. One or two small children arrived but they were quiet and well behaved and were kept out of the way. The other guests are polite and friendly but everyone keeps to themselves. The place is fully occupied but it never feels crowded. How can a place like this be real?

Quinci Resort

The entrance to the Quinci resort (pronounched koo-in-chi) was a very welcome sight. It’s very Conde Naste: only 20 villas, gorgeous gardens, stepping stones in the lush grass guiding you to the beach, restaurant and infinity pool past water features and buddhas. Our villa is beautiful with a view of the sea from the large wooden deck. We have two sofas for lounging on and a bed made with crisp white sheets decorated with fresh jasmine. I was so grubby that I didn’t want to touch anything until I had had a shower. The shower was outside in an enclosed courtyard decorated as a Zen garden complete with little white stones, plants and a stone lantern. There is even a giant Buddha head on an plinth next to the loo. Yes, I think I can suffer this place for 4 nights.















It took a long time to get the grime out in the shower, but we didn’t recognize ourselves all squeaky and in clean clothes. We sent all our smelly hiking clothes to the laundry and went to get some food. The resort is small and very quiet. Full of European couples quietly reading on sun beds or getting massages. Massages! That’s what we needed and they were easily arranged. Noor and Saab came to our villa to ease our aching limbs while we simultaneously whimpered. We weren’t hobbling, but the muscles hurt when someone touched them. We also got pedicures and manicures from Saab’s friend Saeeda.















The sun was setting and we chose the sun beds featured on the Quinci website (here) and watched the sun dip behind Mt Arung over on the island of Bali just 30km away. We had found Quinchi on the Internet months ago and I was slightly worried that it wouldn’t live up to it’s expectations. The website makes it look idyllic, but, fortunately for us, it is.

Mr. Peanut meets his match

Asmuni was his usual one hour late and then we had to wait and additional hour for the man to bring our other bags from the first village. We naturally just wanted to get going. Finally we were ready. We said goodbye to Kean leaving him with a decent tip, a bottle of coke, my good thermal gloves, the lip salve and a load of wet wipes and Japanese isotonic drink mix for his next walk.

It was a 2 hour drive back to Sengigi and I was in serious danger of dozing off in the car. The roads are so windy that this would have been a mistake and I would have woken up feeling sick so we played our version of the I-spy game to keep ourselves awake. Here are some of our sightings:

- a mosque under construction
- a bamboo pole being used as a washing line
- a goat at the side of the road
- a running chicken
- a thatched-roofed house
- a family sitting on a bamboo shelter outside their house
- a bare-bottomed baby
- a bag of pumice stone
- a broken bridge
- a woman riding a motorbike side-saddle
- a horse-drawn carriage taxi
- gangs of school children walking home along the road
- a blue SUV (like the one we were in)
- a sign saying “Selamat Jalan”. I forget now whether that means welcome, or goodbye.

Soon we were on the aptly-named Monkey Forest Road which Denny had told us about. We stopped the car and gangs of macaques appeared. It was fun to watch them when we threw peanuts (David shared his for the first time in history). They were less enthusiastic about the ones still in shells. Just like humans, they prefer the ready-to-eat variety. Also like humans, they were grooming. The bollards along the road acted as grooming stations for pairs of monkeys.

The final leg

We didn’t sleep much last night as it was so cold, the ground in the tent was so hard and our muscles ached so much that it was difficult to get comfortable. The lads had out done themselves at dinner and had made us vegetable pancakes in a spicy and sweet sauce. I thought they must have been using up the eggs, but there still seems to be dozens of them being carried around.

We were up with the birds and the cockadoodledoos for our last camp breakfast and our last stretch of the walk. Just in case we lost them when we got to the village, we gave our porter-cooks their tip after breakfast. We think it was a decent tip, but couldn’t tell from their expressions whether they were insulted or pleased. They seemed jolly enough as we all packed up and began to walk so I guess it must have been ok.















I’m not quite sure how I managed to walk that final part, my legs just carried me along somehow. To take my mind off the pain, I counted to 100 in my mind in as many languages as I could ichi-ni-san-yon-go…..uno-dos-tres-cuatro….eins-zwei-drei-fier-funf….. un-deux-trois-quatre-cinq…….yn-dai-tri-pedwar-pump…. David and I tried to remember all 50 states of the USA – that took a while. We didn’t get Montana for hours.

The walk was on a lovely forest track. No dust, no jagged rocks, no volcanic scree, just lovely earth and grass and moss. We saw quite a few ebony leaf monkeys high up in the trees jumping and looking down at us. We passed some men with spears and a pack of dogs out to hunt deer. Surely that’s illegal in the national park?

Finally, we arrived at the trek office in the village of Senaru. The end of our 4 day hike and not a moment too soon. The first 2 days had been hell. The second 2 had been amazing. Views had been consistently impressive and all the better because we had really earned them. Nevertheless, I was glad it was over. I was looking forward to a shower and a massage. I was exhausted from all the walking and the lack of sleep. I have never been so grubby – I had thick black dirt in my fingernails and ground in dust all over my body. My clothes stank too. Was I really going to turn up at our resort looking like this?

Up and out of the crater

Well, the hike up and out of the crater up to Pelawangi Senaru peak was great! It was a lovely trail with consistently excellent views to enjoy over the lake and mini-volcano in the lake. As we climbed higher, we were able to see the entire lake below. There was a lot of rock climbing involved which was great fun. The view at the very top was awesome. This is the kind of trekking I like and has made the trip so worthwhile.

After a break for a celebratory Tango biscuit and a few photos, we walked gradually down through dusty grasslands into the forest. When we got to the cloudy part of the forest, we found our campsite not long before sunset.

Time out

Diary extract:

“The Spanish group have left and we are the only ones left at the campsite this morning and we don’t leave until later. There’s just the sound of the birds, the wind whipping around the crater and the lads cooking. I am sitting here letting my hair dry in the sun while I enjoy a cup of Sariwangi tea and a tango biscuit…..just as I wrote that, lunch arrived. It’s 10am! Perhaps they want to get us over with. By the way, it’s noodle soup – topped with a boiled egg. Perhaps in Indonesia it’s not a proper meal unless there’s an egg. A bit like the Irish and their spuds."

What's with the eggs?

Probably in lieu of meat we are being fed a lot of eggs on this trip. I normally have one egg a week if that, so this is really strange for me. Here is what we had yesterday:

Breakfast: fried egg, cheese and tomato toasties (jaffles)
Lunch: Vegetable curry and rice topped with a boiled egg and a prawn cracker
Dinner: Vegetable noodles topped with a fried egg and a prawn cracker

Other breakfast recipes also use eggs like banana pancakes and pineapple fritters. I am strictly a Bran Flakes girl so my stomach doesn’t know what hit it. Considering where we are, the food is amazing.

More soaking

We went back again to the hot springs today. Apart from getting clean and soaking our sore muscles, the hot springs are an interesting place. We like watching the macaques up on the rocks watching the humans. There were also humans up on the rocks watching the humans (us) in not such a different pose. The locals can’t stop staring – there were a dozen expressionless faces looking at us at any one time. Yesterday it was all men, today there were a couple of girls and an old lady. The pools look really murky and when you get out, there are bits of black sand all over you and a kind of greasy feeling. Is this because so many sweaty people use the baths? None of this scrubbing before you get in business here like in Japanese onsens. I think the monkeys also use the pools when the humans aren’t around. The waterfall was a good way to wash off all the bits sticking to you and was very refreshing. We felt refreshed, but out legs were not quite ready for another grueling walk….

Into the crater

Climbing up to the highest point of the volcano was nasty, but at least the worst part was over. Wasn’t it? After a quick doze outside the tent and some breakfast, we set off again with our backpacks. This time we would be climbing right down into the crater of the volcano and camping by the lake. No problem.

Actually, there was a problem. The scenery was spectacular, but the path was so dangerous that we didn’t appreciate it properly. There were jagged rocks, slippery slopes, huge steps, and lots of dust all the way down the narrow path. This was the place where an American guy had fallen and died a few months before so we took it very slowly. It took us 3 and a half hours to get down and by the time we got to the lake we were utterly fed up and exhausted. We collapsed, too tired to get the wet wipes out wondering why we had chosen to do this to ourselves. We should be sitting by some pool with a cocktail.

We were a short distance away from the lake and we went over to have a look. The edges were a bit murky. Some people were fishing but no one was swimming. So much for getting clean. I overheard the Spanish group talking about some hot springs. I heard one of them mention that next to the springs there was “una tienda” (which means “shop” in Spanish). I was half dozing but I could have sworn that one of them said she had bought an ice cream. I told David that there was a shop selling ice cream and he thought I was mad. Why would there be a shop in a crater of a volcano 2 days walk from the nearest village? And if there was a shop, would it really be selling ice-cream? He had a point. We walked down to investigate anyway but David refused to bring any money with him.

After a short walk, three natural hot pools and a waterfall awaited. It was very tempting; we were dirty and aching. We were wearing our swimming gear under our clothes and David wasted no time and jumped straight in. I was a little more reluctant as there were groups of local men sitting watching the show. The show? A bunch of European women taking baths in skimpy swimwear. I have lived long enough in Islamic countries to know what a big deal this is. We were the afternoon entertainment. Some of the Spanish girls were just leaving, but there was just one German woman bathing and (obliviously) drawing the crowds. No guesses why: she was rather large and her bikini was about 3 sizes too small for her. In fact, at one point she fell out of it! I waited for her to finish and leave, went down to the water wearing my sarong and slipped in to the deepest pool as decorously as I could. Once I was in, I didn’t care who was looking, it felt so good being immersed in really hot water.

I bet you are wondering whether there was actually a shop selling ice cream. Only in my dreams. People from all over Lombok come to use the hot springs because of their healing properties and camp next to the pools. There were a few tents set up where the men were smoking the fish that they had caught in the lake. I suddenly remembered that the word “tienda” can also mean “tent”. I must have dreamed the “ice cream” part. Ah well.

Climbing Rinjani

Today was a VERY long day. After a sleepless night of freezing in the tent, we were up at 2am and ready to start climbing the highest point of Rinjani by 3am. How many times have I said “never again” to both climbing volcanoes and to starting a climb in the middle of the night? It’s insane so why do I keep doing it? What is wrong with me? At least we didn’t have to take the backpacks with us – they stayed behind at the camp.

It really wasn’t a nice walk. We slid and scrambled over dusty volcanic scree for hours in the dark. What made it worse was that we knew we were walking along the narrow ridge of the volcano crater which drops either side. We couldn’t see how serious the drops were in the darkness but it seemed like the path disappeared into the night either side. As we neared the summit, it began to get light and the wind really picked up. It was biting cold. Kean had lost one of his (inadequate) gloves, had chapped lips and was looking really miserable. How many times a year did this poor man have to climb Rinjani? We found him at one point huddled behind a rock shivering and trying to light a cigarette. Why anyone would bring cigarettes up a volcano in the middle of the night is beyond me, but they do like a fag here. The guides and porters are all chain smokers and proud of it.

We kept up a steady pace, but as we climbed higher the wind got worse. There were a few people ahead of us, some turned back after a while. There were a large party of Spanish people behind us but they had also mostly turned back as the conditions worstened.

Dawn was approaching and we moved slowly on all fours – one step forward, slide back two. We could see the summit about 300m away but had had enough. We wanted it to be over so turned around. We all cheered up once we had made that decision, most of all Kean. We slid easily down the scree choking on mouthfuls of dust. We stopped to watch a spectacular sunrise over the volcano illuminating the crater lake below. In the lake was another volcano – the one that had erupted in 1994 and was still active. A sobering thought. The rock around us turned bright orange in the sunlight and I took some lovely photographs. A monkey appeared from nowhere, sitting on a scary ledge. We think his job was to stop people accidentally going that way.

By the time we arrived back at the camp we had swallowed our fill of dust, were filthy and badly needed a shower and a soft bed. We made do with a wet wipe each and a groundsheet.

Starting the hike

Kean knocked at our door at 6.30am and didn’t leave until we came out. We hadn’t realized he was waiting outside as we sorted our stuff out, decided which bags we were bringing, fiddled with contact lenses and faffed around with holes in teeth. Somehow at the end of all the sorting we ended up with 2 huge backpacks. How did that happen? We needed a lot of warm clothes for when we were up the mountain, some changes of clothes, toiletries, water, reading material, torches etc. We would be taking 3 porters with us, but they had enough to carry with the food and camping equipment, so we would have to carry them ourselves. I have never hiked with a 10kg pack on my back before and it took me half a day to get used to it. At first I was really conscious of the weight, by the end of the hike, I didn’t notice it.

After a breakfast of a not-quite-cooked banana pancake, we set off on our adventures. The porters held wooden poles on their shoulders and balanced their loads either end. I couldn’t imagine anything less comfortable, but they zipped up the mountain much quicker than we did. We had requested no chicken. I had read on someone’s blog that the porters haul a live chicken in a bag up the mountain for dinner and kill it outside the tent. I could live 4 days without meat. I managed 15 years once.














We arrived at the campsite around 4pm. There was no source of water to washing so we used our Japanese wet-wipes. I’m not quite sure what the porters did and tried not to think about it as they cooked our dinner.














I wasn’t able to clean my teeth, yet along perform the required change of filling and sterilization of pincers so I just left it, imagining all sorts of horrors in my mouth. We camped on a kind of black volcanic scree with about 30 other people. Rinjani was above us and there was a caldera below us. It was quite a stunning place.

Village life

After the “Official Tour” of the village by Kean, we sneaked back out to see if the footy game was still going on. Actually, there were a number of games taking place on the village green – all about 20 a side. One game was a local derby match with the neighboring village, but it had finished before we got back to the field. We sat and watched the other games going on – it was approaching dusk and everyone was still out. After about 20 seconds, every child in the village descended on us. They were full of questions and were dying to introduce themselves in English and tell us the names of all the mountains all around us. Their ages ranged from about 6 to 16. They saw my camera and asked me to take pictures of them. They were so innocent and got a real kick out of being able to see themselves on the small screen. They didn’t demand money like children do in other parts of the world. This village is relatively untouched by the outside world and we felt quite a rush just being there. We were apparently quite a novelty. They laughed hysterically at my legs. I have always been quite proud of my legs and couldn’t work out what was so funny. They took it in turns comparing their brown legs with my white ones. It’s a good job I am not sensitive or had been working on a tan! Of course, David’s height is always a great source of amusement wherever we go. Imagine being as tall as the goal post! They had never seen such a thing! They dragged him up to play football and put him in goals and took shots with a crap plastic broken football. Everytime I tried to take photos of the game, everyone would stop and run to be in the front of the picture. Soon the mosque call signified prayer time and time for everyone to go home. This evening playing with the kids turned out to be one of the most memorable times in Indonesia.

Day before the hike

At 10am Asmuni from the Rinjani Trek Center (http://www.lomboksumbawa.com/rinjani/index.htm) still hadn’t turned up. In daylight we could really see that the Intan Lombok Resort had seen better days, but it would have been nice to spend a few hours lounging around the pool nevertheless. Instead we were sitting in the lobby waiting for Asmuni. I called him. I couldn’t tell if he had remembered us or was bluffing. There had been some mix up, but he was coming to get us in 15 minutes. 15 minutes turned out to be an hour and a half, but at least he came. We hit the road and headed towards the tiny village of Sembalun Lawang where we would start our 4 day. We drove for a few hours, mostly through national park and finally arrived mid afternoon. We met our guide Kean and got chatting to a Swiss couple also starting the trek tomorrow.

That night we stayed in a kind of homestay lodge – probably the most basic place I have ever stayed in (apart from camping). It was made of woven reed and very dark inside and the 10 watt light bulb only came on after sunset. The bathroom was a room with a squat toilet (no flush), a tap and a bucket. Before I left Nagoya, I had been going for dental treatment. My trip had interrupted this treatment and I would be traveling around Indonesia with a huge hole in one of my teeth. My dentist had given me a little kit of pincers, gauze, cotton wool and alcohol so that I could clean and put cotton wool temporary fillings in my tooth each day. He stressed the importance of keeping things clean to avoid infection. This was a tricky enough operation to negotiate in the lodge – how would it be while camping? I tried not to think about it.

Outside the lodge was Mount Rinjani standing a 3726m. We knew it was high and that it would be a challenging walk, but from were we were standing in Sembalun Lawang, it looked like a little hill you could saunter up in an afternoon.

Arriving in Lombok

The Silk Air flight to Lombok reminded us of the time we flew Air India from Mumbai. What do I mean? I mean that practically all of the other passengers weren't used to flying and broke all the rules that I thought everyone knew. People tried to sneak cigarettes when no one was looking, talked on mobile phones during take-off, and unbuckled seatbelts just before landing in the attempt to be the first off the plane. At least we didn’t have to fill in everyone’s immigration cards like we had to on that Air India flight (they needed them filled in in English). The poor flight attendants - I wonder if it's like that everyday.

We landed safely in Mataram Airport and as we disembarked, we were hit with the real smell of Asia: the smell of pollution mixed with the smell of burning wood. It was a lot less humid and hot than Singapore which was just as well as there was a long queue for visas. We stood outside the terminal building with the other foreigners watching little geckos congregate on the “Entrance” sign.

We got a taxi to the hotel we had booked and it was so dark that we couldn’t see anything along the way – quite a change from Singapore. We seemed to dodge an awful lot of motorbikes and bicycles without lights and even the odd horse-drawn cart.

We had arrived at a ghost-hotel. There were extensive grounds lit with lanterns but not a soul in sight. A ring of the bell at the outdoor reception brought the receptionist and we were soon shown to our room. The room turned out to be a cottage – we had been upgraded! Probably because there were no other guests… There were signs of life in the Sengigi strip outside however if the sounds pumping out of Club Tropicana across the road were anything to go by so we went out to explore.

The strip comprised of about 30 bars all competing for business. That business has been slack lately. Poor Indonesia. Tourism was already suffering since the bombings and now with all the natural disasters, things are very slow. We picked a small bar with one table of locals in it called Matahari. We ordered a bottle of Bintang beer which came with two frosty glasses. We chatted to the waitress, Achi originally from Sulawesi. She’d arrived in Lombok in 1997 at the height of the tourist boom. One of the locals was the amiable Denny who told us a bit more about places to see in Lombok. Another local, Charlie, tried to sell us ganja.

On the way home we passed a lot of travel agencies selling trekking tours up Rinjani Mountain. We had already arranged ours which would start the next day.

Sentosa Island

I have been to Singapore 4 times now but had yet to visit Sentosa Island. It was raining hard last year on the day we planned to go so we never made it. This year, we were determined to go, rain or shine.

We took the subway to Harbour Front and then the cable car over to the island. The ticket office at the cable car station was selling tickets to all sorts of attractions on the island such as 4D World, Carlsberg Tower, The Merlion and Insect Park. We had no idea what any of these (delights?) were, but as there was a special deal on some of them, we ended up with tickets for Carlsberg Tower and The Merlion.

The cable car was great fun with views over the water, the skyscrapers of Singapore behind us and the thick forest of Sentosa Island ahead. “Sentosa” means “peace and tranquility” in Malay, but the place didn’t feel very peaceful to us at all. It’s a small island full of attractions. A good family day out. Rather than bitch about the misnomer, we embraced the tackiness of the Carlsberg Tower (wobbling, plastic flying saucer sliding uncertainly up a pole for views over the island). We did resist the souvenir photograph however. Apparently “Insect park” was very good. Not my sort of thing so I sat outside on a bench shaped like a centipede people-watching. It had started to drizzle and people shuffled around looking pretty miserable. A family with an Essex accent shuffled past me wearing flip-flops and skimpy beach outfits: “Dad, I fort we was getting the bus”. A bus belching out fumes pulled up. This is the island transport. The family from Essex joined the queue and got on it. What on Earth was this place?

We decided against getting on a bus packed with day trippers and instead walked in the light tropical rain to the other side of the island. It was a gorgeous walk through the forest and we wondered why we saw no one else walking. We came out at a scenic public beach dotted with palm trees, but today was not a beach day for us. We continued walking towards Fort Silosa.

Fort Silosa is a really interesting museum site set over quite an extensive area. I would go as far as to say that it was the best thing we saw in Singapore. It depicted the life of a British soldier in the barracks, war time in Singapore, the Japanese occupation and the surrender in 1945. The POW descriptions were particularly memorable. We spent over two hours there and only saw about 4 other visitors. Where was everyone? At the aquarium apparently.




We had enjoyed the aquarium so much in Monterey, California, that we paid our $20 dollars entrance fee each and joined the noisy queue. There were hundreds of school kids. Despite the crowds, it was a good aquarium. Here are some hightlights:

- dragon fish
- decorator crabs. These guys have bits of colorful coral stuck all over them.
- Sea angels – fish with propellers that look like wings.
- The dugong (sea cow)
- A tunnel where fish swam around us. Seeing an eagle ray awim over you is quite special.

And some low lights…..

- The ridiculous amount of people pushing and shoving
- The moron (adult) who came up to a crab tank we were looking at, banged the glass with his fist, saw that nothing reacted so walked off bored.
- The guy with the snake around his neck outside
- The kids crowded around the “touch tank” grabbing poor creatures

We walked back to the main part of the island on another lovely trail through the rain forest. We saw just 2 other people.

We still had our tickets for the Merlion and we knew it could be cheesy but went along anyway. We followed the signposted paths. The paths turned into escalators. Escalators in the rainforest? That’s a new one. We strayed from the path and walked down the steps through the orchid garden instead. Naturally, we saw no one else there.






The Merlion is the symbol of Singapore and there is a giant Merlion statue on Sentosa island. Our tickets entitled us to actually go inside the statue, up in the lift to the Merlion’s head which was quite a nice viewing platform. Of course, to get there, you walk through papier mache exhibitions about sea creatures.

Despite Sentosa being full of attractions and crowds, we managed to find lots of peaceful moments. I’m glad we finally went.