After doing my monthly financials, I was quite shocked to see how my bank was screwing me with service fees! Every transaction, big or small, came with the same hefty bill. I decided to knuckle down for two days with my limp wallet and focus on earning my bread and rice by chowing down on some serious work.
I also planned out the rest of the month with a more medium-term plan and made some bookings on credit. The next 8 days would be spent on the Gili islands at a homestay. At Genius Level 3 on Booking dot com, I now get free breakfasts! I really hope to do some diving there too. My final week will be in Sanur, which I once referred to as a pensioner’s paradise.
With dwindling time on Lombok, I rented a scooter for the day and rode for over an hour to visit the south side of the island. Koeta in the south of Lombok, is where the few tourists that come here flock to. I’m so glad that I browsed the area before making any bookings there, as it was rather underwhelming.
During the long ride, I realized that there is really no business district (or any large buildings) of any kind on Lombok. It really is just an island of farmers, fisherman, shop and warung owners, truck drivers and labourers, who all spend much of their time praying. I passed several mosques with one still under construction. It will soon be The Land of 1,001 Mosques!
Once you start to approach Koeta, the buildings start to get bigger and things immediately begin to feel more prosperous. Big billboards are everywhere and a big and ugly Raja Hotel is near the beachfront. A second, massive hotel was under construction, but you can still feel the poverty. Locals are desperate to sell you a coconut.
I counted nine pasty people in the small tourist town and on the beach. The air was hazy and the ocean was soupy. I had a dip nonetheless. The volcanic rocks were the most interesting thing to look at. I only had an hour to explore the place as that morning, Ahmad (my homestay owner) gave me and two French guests a long sermon about the Islamic faith before we headed out.
I must be honest that I’m still not convinced about the high rating his homestay has. The one morning Ahmad kindly asked if I had any laundry that needed tending to. I did, and asked about the price tag. “You want express or regular? Express you get clothes back today!” (That was double the cost). “Just a regular wash please. No rush.” It took three days! And there was an extra charge because I threw in a towel.
On the day I asked if I could rent the same bike as before, I was told that all available bikes were fully booked and that I would need to wait for 2 hours, but this big fancy one over here is available right now. It just costs a lot more. Fully booked by whom, I thought?! There are barely any tourists here! I said I would wait. The same bike arrived, but the fuel gauge was empty. I had filled it to the brim when I last returned it.
Interestingly, beer was available for sale in Koeta – behind frosted glass doors in a Mini Mart. I thought that I HAD come all this way, so bought a couple of cans. I will just have to hide the evidence, for if Ahmad doesn’t allow unmarried couples who are in love to share a room, then I’m sure he would not accommodate alcohol being on his property. I know more about the Hin-dos and Hin-don’ts than I do about Islamic etiquette, but I really don’t want to offend anyone. I do wonder what the punishment would be though. Ten Hail Allah’s per can?
I’m sure time moves more slowly on a bike than in a car. The ride home took forever but it was mostly one long and beautifully smooth one-way street, with no traffic stops – just a couple of roundabouts. I was careful not to feel over-confident on the bike, but you never really go faster than 60km per hour. Seventy max. Okay, maybe 80 just that one time.
I passed by two schools. They have rather strange hours. Like Vietnam, they take a 2-hour break from 11am to 1pm each day to go home and have lunch and/or a siesta. Tiny school kids were lined up on their own bikes revving to go as I rode past. Others on the road were trying to look cool (as kids do) by making sudden swerves past their friends. YOUNG kids! I learnt that one of Lombok’s main attractions is the Mandalika Circuit, where bike racers come to compete from all over the country.
I wondered who would win if they took the best biker from Indonesia, Vietnam and Thailand, and made them race through the streets of New York without a scratch. From what I’ve witnessed, my money would be on a teenager from Ho Chi Minh City.
Next: Indonesia #7 – God Be With You
Previously: Indonesia #5 – Happy Lombokians
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