capn_n_pye (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
capn_n_pye) wrote2023-04-22 08:35 am
capn_n_pye) wrote2023-04-22 08:35 am
The Triumphant Return to Indonesia Continues
We have long known that exploring a place and its artistic and cultural specialities makes our wallets, as tourists, grow very swollen and painful, and therefore we need careful milking at the right times – this is perfectly fine with us when we enjoy the process.
Indonesia has a delightful mix of public monuments – deeply held religious beliefs sit side by side with HAY, HAVE YOU SEEN HOW RAD MY TANK IS?
Having first gone past the former, we made it to the latter, and admired the biggest mosque we’ve seen in a while (complete with its lumbung - rice barn, the symbol of Lombok - shaped caps on its towers)…
After that, we began the real process at Banyumulek to “see the local potters moulding vases, jugs, plates, and many more with their simple equipment exactly as they have been crafted by generation to generation.” We had a go at making little creatures for ourselves, and proved slightly less shit at that than at weaving songket. The kid who helped Stinky could barely walk but already did a better job!
Thence it was to Sukarara, “a hand weaving village where we can see traditional process of spinning and weaving by women in traditional dress.” If that sounds familiar, it’s because that’s where old mate Abdul whisked us off away to the day before! Luckily the village is big enough and interesting enough that we were able to enjoy having a bit more of an explore around the village itself…
…before being subject to some dressing up.
Everyone tells you that all the women contribute their weaving to a co-op so that if you buy a songket you’re benefitting the whole community – this sounds fantastic, but we have now heard it twice and visiting two vastly different shops… But nah yeah, don’t overthink it, it’s all true.
Chuckles saw an opportunity and went for it, increasing the risk of importing foot and mouth disease by patting every cow (and lizard) we met, and I, for one, support this decision.
Also, I think we’re all going to adopt, like, four kids each from the village (with their consent, of course and maybe they can stay living with their real families). Look at the lil cutey patooties!
Now, you can’t set foot on Lombok without paying a visit to a traditional Sasak village (Sasak being one of the older, distinct ethnic groups).
We love us a good traditional house, and Rambitan had a personable guide who showed us around for longer than usual before channelling us into the shop.
Thanks, Rambitan, see ya next time!
Then we turned our snouts towards Kuta. Everyone knows about Kuta Beach in Bali, but a much more aesthetically pleasing Kuta Beach lies in the south of Lombok.
The wandering hawkers still ply their trade up and down the beach, and are terribly reluctant to take no for an answer. One must get used to being stared at beseechingly as one settles down for a beer, whether it be someone whose surfer anklets are the best price, the cats who think you’ll drop them a snack, the dogs who want to steal the cats’ snacks, or, verily, the shiny bum-bums of all the bright young backpackers.
The doggos even sneak their lil faces into ya selfies!
We squeezed in a walk and some Instagram training for Moose…
… and then we were off again! It used to be pretty much a whole day trip to get down to Kuta, but thanks to huge government investment in getting the MotoGP circuit and infrastructure set up, you can fang it down and back in no time at all. In fact, we even had a bit of time to dash into Mataram’s old mall (a proper Indonesian mall, absolute chaos, we love it) and purchase a new suitcase to get all of D’admiral and Chuckles’ new stuff home again.
All that was left was one more stop to admire – perchance to buy – pearls, which is another of Lombok’s favourite industries. Everyone that day had a cute child with them, although the pearl-people’s one was a bit older.
Basking in the glow only a day cramming a bunch of culture down ya gullet could provide, we made it back to the hotel just in time to catch the fading light of the day. Moose enjoyed the company, while all the Muslims were like, “Piss off, sun!” so they could break their day’s fast.
We’d barely had a moment to feel hungry, but that evening we wandered out of the hotel and along the beach until we found a restaurant on the sand that would serve us seafood and beer and an-actually-not-too-absurdly-priced sav blanc. We didn’t have to walk far at all!
One of the nice things about eating on the beach is that when you drop your knife, it Excaliburs the sand, so if you were so inclined, you could just pluck it and keep on using it,
By the time we'd finished dinner, the tide had gone out enough to be able to use the beach and not the path to get back to the hotel…
(look, you can even see the Southern Cross!)
As we strolled back along the dark beach (with a brief detour over an estuary’s bridge), we heard a cry of “HELLO!!” but thought nothing of it… until two girls sprinted out of the gloom, grabbed some selfies and then vanished again. Indonesia!
Back on the grounds of the hotel, the big light-polluting sign was having an identity crisis and also throwing off a cool green effect in photos…
Moose loved it a lot!
That was our last full day on Lombok, as the next day we were bound back for Bali and then home again. Pye set herself a goal of swimming in ALL the hotel pools before checkout, which actually only ended up being two, but one of them was supposed to be private to people in the adjoining villas, and you can’t keep a rebel out.
Also, you don’t need a TV when you have big fat waves just waiting to come crashing over the gate – endlessly amusing! The really big ones only ever smashed in when we weren’t ready to film, but you get the idea.
Checkout was at 12 and then we had another hour or so to go before getting picked up, so we made some last-minute use of the rooms - you can stare reproachfully at us all you like, Mr Cleaning Cart, we’ll get out when we get out! Do not distrub [sic]!
Once we were finally prised out of place, we headed for the hotel’s beach restaurant – but, more importantly, Pye finally found the putri malu she’s been looking for all trip! HOORAY!
Then we really didn’t know what else we were expected to do except to enjoy a drink with The View. It’s a terribly tough life, but we were really brave about it.
The driver and guide came for us a bit early so that we could stop at a few viewpoints and enjoy the scenery that had been obscured by rain on the day we arrived and say, “Hey, look, that’s where we were just looking at the view from!”
But now we are the view?! Mind blown.
It would probably be quite interesting just to cut laps around the whole island and enjoy all the coastal views. Ooh, and the critters! While not in the same abundance as in Bali, one can occasionally find monkeys (presumably the descendants of the ones able to swim across the Wallace Line. Arsehole alert! Or is that… balls alert?
Fun fact, straight after this photo was taken, the monkey pissed itself. Just sat there, marinating in it. While grinning smugly and somehow making simultaneous eye contact with both Stinky and D'admiral??
In the perfectly-organised-yet-seemingly-chaotic manner in which our northern neighbours approach pretty much everything, we then showed up at a harbour and pretty much wandered directly onto the first boat that pulled up.
Waving goodbye to the Gili islands, we tried to make ourselves comfortable on the very high fast-boat seats for the two-hour trip back to Bali.
Three bouncy hours later, we even made it! Praise be to Allah!
The delay put our arrival later than anticipated, but we weren’t too worried about racing to pick up all our orders with the tailors, because that’s what we’d budgeted the next day for. Oh, but wait, half of them were about to go home for Idul Fitri/Lebaran! It was now or never! The minute we got to the hotel, D’admiral, Chuckles and Stinky sprinted off down the street, while Pye checked them in (and struggled to get everyone’s luggage to the rooms – what a first-world problem, eh, to drop back to 3-star accommodation and not have multiple staff snatching your luggage to carry it for you, oh woe, woe).
The suits and shirts from the taciturn Javanese tailor were first on the list, and he had done excellent work – even if he was a cheeky blighter who ‘threw in’ an extra pair of trousers and a new shirt each, on the grounds that we’d all be too middle-class to tell him to fuck off, we’re not paying for what we didn't ask for (he was right).
More delightfully, the puppets’ new clothes were ready! And boy, was the adoptive father excited to share the finished product! The lil dude had been sitting in the shop, awaiting our return – in fact, at least one, if not two children had wept because they had seen him, coveted him, and yet were not allowed to have him.
The end product was so much better than we could have ever expected! Behold, the ‘before and after’ – there is no contest!
Stinky’s matching shirt (even unto the shape of the sleeves) was equally rad, and we almost had to get the lil guy a seat of his own on the plane. Did we mention how delighted we are with how into it the guy was??
Stinky was so into it she made them their own Indonesian ID cards!
We needed a bit of a rest in attractive surroundings to get over all this excitement… where the hell are we supposed to get that around this place??
Collecting almost all of our orders in the evening meant that our plans for the next day unexpectedly opened up. Ah shit, now we have to do more shopping.
It was pretty hot, but it’s okay, because the iceman cometh.
Now, one thing that we traditionally love to have done is to get our dead foot skin gently torn off by the little mouths of fish. These opportunities used to be everywhere, but we think a bunch of them must have starved over the plague years. But we found one in the end!
The fish were not fasting for Ramadan (we asked, hilarity ensued).
The foot nibble lead to massages/body scrubs, which inevitably lead to manicures and/or pedicures. Profligate Western scum, comfort yourselves by contributing to the economy why don’t ya!
One more meal …
…and a bunch of organising later, our luggage family had expanded. Bless them.
Our new favourite thing in the world is super-late checkout, so we were able to do all our last-day activities and still have a shower and change our clothes for the night flight ahead.
Our background pessimism had been assuming that the homeward-bound aspect would be frustrated in some way, but against all odds, it all went smoothly, too! Although it probably ought to be illegal to witness two sunsets and a sunrise in one ‘day’ and still be expected to make any kind of sense…
Indonesia has a delightful mix of public monuments – deeply held religious beliefs sit side by side with HAY, HAVE YOU SEEN HOW RAD MY TANK IS?
Having first gone past the former, we made it to the latter, and admired the biggest mosque we’ve seen in a while (complete with its lumbung - rice barn, the symbol of Lombok - shaped caps on its towers)…
After that, we began the real process at Banyumulek to “see the local potters moulding vases, jugs, plates, and many more with their simple equipment exactly as they have been crafted by generation to generation.” We had a go at making little creatures for ourselves, and proved slightly less shit at that than at weaving songket. The kid who helped Stinky could barely walk but already did a better job!
Thence it was to Sukarara, “a hand weaving village where we can see traditional process of spinning and weaving by women in traditional dress.” If that sounds familiar, it’s because that’s where old mate Abdul whisked us off away to the day before! Luckily the village is big enough and interesting enough that we were able to enjoy having a bit more of an explore around the village itself…
…before being subject to some dressing up.
Everyone tells you that all the women contribute their weaving to a co-op so that if you buy a songket you’re benefitting the whole community – this sounds fantastic, but we have now heard it twice and visiting two vastly different shops… But nah yeah, don’t overthink it, it’s all true.
Chuckles saw an opportunity and went for it, increasing the risk of importing foot and mouth disease by patting every cow (and lizard) we met, and I, for one, support this decision.
Also, I think we’re all going to adopt, like, four kids each from the village (with their consent, of course and maybe they can stay living with their real families). Look at the lil cutey patooties!
Now, you can’t set foot on Lombok without paying a visit to a traditional Sasak village (Sasak being one of the older, distinct ethnic groups).
We love us a good traditional house, and Rambitan had a personable guide who showed us around for longer than usual before channelling us into the shop.
Thanks, Rambitan, see ya next time!
Then we turned our snouts towards Kuta. Everyone knows about Kuta Beach in Bali, but a much more aesthetically pleasing Kuta Beach lies in the south of Lombok.
The wandering hawkers still ply their trade up and down the beach, and are terribly reluctant to take no for an answer. One must get used to being stared at beseechingly as one settles down for a beer, whether it be someone whose surfer anklets are the best price, the cats who think you’ll drop them a snack, the dogs who want to steal the cats’ snacks, or, verily, the shiny bum-bums of all the bright young backpackers.
The doggos even sneak their lil faces into ya selfies!
We squeezed in a walk and some Instagram training for Moose…
… and then we were off again! It used to be pretty much a whole day trip to get down to Kuta, but thanks to huge government investment in getting the MotoGP circuit and infrastructure set up, you can fang it down and back in no time at all. In fact, we even had a bit of time to dash into Mataram’s old mall (a proper Indonesian mall, absolute chaos, we love it) and purchase a new suitcase to get all of D’admiral and Chuckles’ new stuff home again.
All that was left was one more stop to admire – perchance to buy – pearls, which is another of Lombok’s favourite industries. Everyone that day had a cute child with them, although the pearl-people’s one was a bit older.
Basking in the glow only a day cramming a bunch of culture down ya gullet could provide, we made it back to the hotel just in time to catch the fading light of the day. Moose enjoyed the company, while all the Muslims were like, “Piss off, sun!” so they could break their day’s fast.
We’d barely had a moment to feel hungry, but that evening we wandered out of the hotel and along the beach until we found a restaurant on the sand that would serve us seafood and beer and an-actually-not-too-absurdly-priced sav blanc. We didn’t have to walk far at all!
One of the nice things about eating on the beach is that when you drop your knife, it Excaliburs the sand, so if you were so inclined, you could just pluck it and keep on using it,
By the time we'd finished dinner, the tide had gone out enough to be able to use the beach and not the path to get back to the hotel…
(look, you can even see the Southern Cross!)
As we strolled back along the dark beach (with a brief detour over an estuary’s bridge), we heard a cry of “HELLO!!” but thought nothing of it… until two girls sprinted out of the gloom, grabbed some selfies and then vanished again. Indonesia!
Back on the grounds of the hotel, the big light-polluting sign was having an identity crisis and also throwing off a cool green effect in photos…
Moose loved it a lot!
That was our last full day on Lombok, as the next day we were bound back for Bali and then home again. Pye set herself a goal of swimming in ALL the hotel pools before checkout, which actually only ended up being two, but one of them was supposed to be private to people in the adjoining villas, and you can’t keep a rebel out.
Also, you don’t need a TV when you have big fat waves just waiting to come crashing over the gate – endlessly amusing! The really big ones only ever smashed in when we weren’t ready to film, but you get the idea.
Checkout was at 12 and then we had another hour or so to go before getting picked up, so we made some last-minute use of the rooms - you can stare reproachfully at us all you like, Mr Cleaning Cart, we’ll get out when we get out! Do not distrub [sic]!
Once we were finally prised out of place, we headed for the hotel’s beach restaurant – but, more importantly, Pye finally found the putri malu she’s been looking for all trip! HOORAY!
Then we really didn’t know what else we were expected to do except to enjoy a drink with The View. It’s a terribly tough life, but we were really brave about it.
The driver and guide came for us a bit early so that we could stop at a few viewpoints and enjoy the scenery that had been obscured by rain on the day we arrived and say, “Hey, look, that’s where we were just looking at the view from!”
But now we are the view?! Mind blown.
It would probably be quite interesting just to cut laps around the whole island and enjoy all the coastal views. Ooh, and the critters! While not in the same abundance as in Bali, one can occasionally find monkeys (presumably the descendants of the ones able to swim across the Wallace Line. Arsehole alert! Or is that… balls alert?
Fun fact, straight after this photo was taken, the monkey pissed itself. Just sat there, marinating in it. While grinning smugly and somehow making simultaneous eye contact with both Stinky and D'admiral??
In the perfectly-organised-yet-seemingly-chaotic manner in which our northern neighbours approach pretty much everything, we then showed up at a harbour and pretty much wandered directly onto the first boat that pulled up.
Waving goodbye to the Gili islands, we tried to make ourselves comfortable on the very high fast-boat seats for the two-hour trip back to Bali.
Three bouncy hours later, we even made it! Praise be to Allah!
The delay put our arrival later than anticipated, but we weren’t too worried about racing to pick up all our orders with the tailors, because that’s what we’d budgeted the next day for. Oh, but wait, half of them were about to go home for Idul Fitri/Lebaran! It was now or never! The minute we got to the hotel, D’admiral, Chuckles and Stinky sprinted off down the street, while Pye checked them in (and struggled to get everyone’s luggage to the rooms – what a first-world problem, eh, to drop back to 3-star accommodation and not have multiple staff snatching your luggage to carry it for you, oh woe, woe).
The suits and shirts from the taciturn Javanese tailor were first on the list, and he had done excellent work – even if he was a cheeky blighter who ‘threw in’ an extra pair of trousers and a new shirt each, on the grounds that we’d all be too middle-class to tell him to fuck off, we’re not paying for what we didn't ask for (he was right).
More delightfully, the puppets’ new clothes were ready! And boy, was the adoptive father excited to share the finished product! The lil dude had been sitting in the shop, awaiting our return – in fact, at least one, if not two children had wept because they had seen him, coveted him, and yet were not allowed to have him.
The end product was so much better than we could have ever expected! Behold, the ‘before and after’ – there is no contest!
Stinky’s matching shirt (even unto the shape of the sleeves) was equally rad, and we almost had to get the lil guy a seat of his own on the plane. Did we mention how delighted we are with how into it the guy was??
Stinky was so into it she made them their own Indonesian ID cards!
We needed a bit of a rest in attractive surroundings to get over all this excitement… where the hell are we supposed to get that around this place??
Collecting almost all of our orders in the evening meant that our plans for the next day unexpectedly opened up. Ah shit, now we have to do more shopping.
It was pretty hot, but it’s okay, because the iceman cometh.
Now, one thing that we traditionally love to have done is to get our dead foot skin gently torn off by the little mouths of fish. These opportunities used to be everywhere, but we think a bunch of them must have starved over the plague years. But we found one in the end!
The fish were not fasting for Ramadan (we asked, hilarity ensued).
The foot nibble lead to massages/body scrubs, which inevitably lead to manicures and/or pedicures. Profligate Western scum, comfort yourselves by contributing to the economy why don’t ya!
One more meal …
…and a bunch of organising later, our luggage family had expanded. Bless them.
Our new favourite thing in the world is super-late checkout, so we were able to do all our last-day activities and still have a shower and change our clothes for the night flight ahead.
Our background pessimism had been assuming that the homeward-bound aspect would be frustrated in some way, but against all odds, it all went smoothly, too! Although it probably ought to be illegal to witness two sunsets and a sunrise in one ‘day’ and still be expected to make any kind of sense…