I continued my
journey east, to Nusa Lembongan where I went to get away from the disenchanted
Kuta. I’ve found myself wishing I’d gone
to these one-off places sooner; they are so lovely, calm and more like the Bali
I was hoping to experience. Taking the
fast boat east from Sanur, I landed on the tiny island 30 minutes later, hopped
on the back of a scooter and was whisked away to my paradise Bungalow. Ironically, it was called Suka Beach II, although it was nothing like the Suka Beach in Kuta.
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| My Bungalow on the beach. |
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The inside of my bungalow.
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| Bed bugs (from Kuta) and Motley Crue. Somewhat appropriate. |
I’ve replaced taxis, spit, dirt and hagglers with rooster,
crickets, trees and butterflies. Even
with all of the humidity Kuta somehow seemed dry to me, whereas Lembongan
practically has a heartbeat. The
humidity comes in puffy waves as if the plants and trees are actually inhaling
and exhaling. I finally feel like I can
breathe. After a night of deep,
comfortable sleep I woke up at 7 a.m. the next morning and enjoyed a perfect
breakfast by the ocean. I had a fluffy
banana pancake and fruit that didn’t taste like it had been cut with a knife
used for onions. It felt like I was
Ashley Judd in
Ya-Ya Sisterhood when
she ditches her kids and goes to a hotel near the ocean for a few days. I watched the locals working on their seaweed
farms (the main source of income for the island, the seaweed is used in
numerous products all over the world, from ice cream to skin cream), pushing
their long boats around the patches of seaweed in the water, or balancing the
bouncy stuff in baskets on their heads.
They seem happy and resolute about their job and there is no question
that they should be doing anything else.
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| A seaweed farmer, checking his crop in the morning. |
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A woman carrying a basket of seaweed in it's second stage of harvest.
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| These little guys were playing near me while I took pics of the seaweed. |
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Seaweed drying in different stages of harvest.
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Lembongan is such a small island that I decided to do two
things I’ve never done before: run around half of the entire island and also to
drive a scooter. The scooter part didn’t
last long, I ran over part of Ketut’s garden in the first 20 seconds and then I
ran into a few ditches while trying to maneuver the ridiculous thing. I came back after about 30 minutes of
white-knuckle fear and gave it right back to Ketut who took pity on me and only
charged me R10,000 (about $1). Now
whenever I see a child driving one of these beasts with ANOTHER child on the
back and neither wearing helmets, I can’t help but gape in wonder as to how
they manage it.
After the scooter I took a look at my map and decided it
would be pretty easy to navigate a 60 minute run so off I went. Two adventurous hours later I arrived back at
my bungalow drenched in sweat, full of happiness and starving. I had almost given up not because I was
mentally tired, but physically tired. I
have to say there is so much elation in finally knowing where you are when you’ve
been lost for almost an hour. As I came
around the bend of the hill overlooking the island I could hear the locals
practicing the traditional music they would later play at the Nyepi celebration
and I felt like a total warrior.
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| My super sweaty self after running around the island. |
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| View from one of the highest points of Lembongan. Also the moment I knew where I was. |
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Definitely the coolest guy on the island.
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That night I had dinner by the ocean and an acupressure
massage by Made (sounds like Mah-Day) which I swear made me constipated.
I’m not kidding, whatever that guy did jacked me up for the next 3
weeks. I don’t recommend getting a
healing massage while in Bali, I’ll be honest.
Especially when my massage therapist is one of the best in LA (shout out
Coco!!), but I suppose it was something I should experience. That night I sat at my balcony and wrote two
manifestos: one for work and one for love, as well as my goals for 2013. I was pretty satisfied with the day and when I
finally fell asleep Angus Stone’s melodic voice was singing “Just a Boy” at a
bar close enough to my bungalow to lull me into sweet dreams.
The next day I went snorkeling all over the Islands where I
swam with little beautiful fishes and coral and and and…Manta Rays. This was one of the scariest things I’ve ever
done for a few reasons. First, I thought
they were the same sort of rays that killed Steve Irwin and when the boat driver
told us not to panic if the ray swam towards us, I was
sure it was the same.
Second, even though I am really not afraid of most things, I have grown
to be afraid or respectful of the ocean.
I just understand its power and know what the water is capable of
doing. So jumping in an ocean full of
Mantas is absolutely crazy for me. But I
did it. I swear my heart was beating so
loud and hard they could actually
hear
it and it seemed like they were FOLLOWING ME.
I tried not to panic but I think I failed a bit. There were a few times I had to surface so I
can cough up the ocean water I’d sucked in while trying to make a u-turn to
avoid these things that look like underwater monsters. Everyone was spooked, it was really
funny. I tapped on a girl’s shoulder to
let her know I was behind her and swear she peed in her bathing suit. Only later did I find out they are not the
same at all. There were also several
divers with us and I swam around in the tiny bubbles put off by their oxygen
tanks, it felt like little kisses all over my body. We spent the day looking at coral that looked
like giant brains and clams and flowers and an entire underwater world that
would make you wonder WHAT THE HELL Ariel was thinking.
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| Some caves on our way to the manta ray spot. |
