Indonesia

After dumping our bags in a ramshackle losmen in the tiny village of Senaru, north Lombok, Jess and I strode up the hill in search of some mosquito repellant. Stopping at the first of a series of hut-like shops, we waited a while eventually spotting a chap hovering in the back of the shop and sporting a replica Socceroos shirt with 'Viduka' emblazoned across the back. We're it not for the dark skin and decidely slimmer look, I would have sworn it was the big man himself, so slow and deliberate were his movements and so ineffective his delivery. Needless to say we went away empty handed, but a predictable "Ingrris - you know David Beckham" conversation ensued and we listened as 'Mark' bemoaned the state of Indonesian football.

Afterwards, I couldn't help wondering if there had ever been a famous Indonesian footballer and, of course, there hasn't. But I had too much thinking time to stop there and so started to compile a list of footballers who might, through name alone, be considered for selection by an Indonesian invitational team. Surely there's been a famous Jack Carter for example, or perhaps an Archie Pelago? I rejected Didier Jogja, I deem Sol Awesi too tenuos and Den Passer is just too unlikely. Matt Oram seems believable though desn't it? I'd be grateful for further input, but in the meantime here's the latest news.

Our last post came from Cairns where we had successfully completed the sale of our van ahead of a move to Darwin. In Darwin, we hired a car and headed for the stuning Lichfield National Park, putting our tent to one last use before selling that too. Almost as soon as we'd landed, though, we were back at the airport, this time bound for Denpasar. We had the usual discussion about what to put in the 'employment' section of our visa applications, fearing a 'none' might put us into the political asylum queue, but knowing that 'bank manager' is both presently inaccurate and far too Captain Mainwaring. 'Backpacker', apparently, is not a profession.

In Bali, we stayed the first night in Kuta - where seemingly we were the only people not sporting 'Bintang' singlets - before moving on to Sanur, a quieter resort on the south west coast and later Ubud, Bali's cultural capital. Our homestay turned out to be an incredibly ornate temple-like building decorated, as all Balinese buildings are, with countless offerings to the numerous Hindu deities. I think the smell drifting about the place was incense, but it may have been altogether stronger since our host was so friendly that he promptly issued us with an invite to his forthcoming wedding. After a walk out of town and into the surrounding paddy fields, we arranged to hire a scooter for the next two days.

It took a while to get acquainted with Balinese road etiquette, but we were soon on our way and headed north taking in the stunning Danau (lake) Batur and the imposing Besakih temples. In Bali, temples are everywhere so
I had a couple of digs in the back from my co-pilot whenever my rubber-necking was too prolonged and the scooter drifted off into the middle of the road. Jess must have been feeling more confident though, since she opted to film the stunning vistas from Jatiluwih as we drove along.

Our schedule here is tight so we were on to Lombok the next day, boarding an aged ferry, several minibuses and, eventually, a fishing boat to reach paradisiac Gili Trawangan. We didn't have time for me to learn to dive, but I had my first effort in the pool, before Jess headed out to the reef for a spot of scuba and I headed off solo with a snorkel. An hour later, the boat found me drifting off towards another island, a little concerning, but the fish were as spectacular as ever. We moved on to Lombok a couple of days later, but not before four hours of difficult 'negotiation' with a tour agent who had mis-sold us a climb to the summit of active Gunung Rinjani. We exchanged some curt words over the phone and after a misguided threat of police intervention by our adversary, took a transfer to his offices to seek a refund. In the end we succeeded in getting some money back and had to settle for a revised trekking package that took us up to the crater rim for an overnight camp.

Gladly, the trek up to the rim passed without incident (although it was bloody tiring) and we spent a memorable night camped out overlooking the crater lake, with deep red, molten lava streaming down the side of the moutain and the groan of eruptions ringing in our ears all night. Jess kept her calm admirably for the descent, despite witnessing a deadly snake, and a 6-hour minibus ride later we were on the south coast in the quiet village of Kuta, a world apart from its Balinese namesake. We were tired and looking forward to a good night's rest just as Jess decided to pick a fight with a scorpion in the shower. The scorpion died, but it would be unfair to declare Jess the winner as she spent the night in agony whilst, not the doctor, but the hotel's security guard tended to her wounds.

She had made a recovery of sorts by the next day, so we were back on scooters to explore the incredible beaches around Kuta and dip in the surf. We spent a couple of days relaxing before a long trip to Java and another volcano. Tough bargaining has become a feature of Indonesia, and we were at our most tenacious for the ride up to Cemoro Lawang, where a pre-sunrise (albeit much quicker) climb to the crater rim proceeded fantastic views across the Bromo mountain range. As seems to be the way, we attracted a hoard of young Indonesian students on the way up and spent the descent posing in countless pictures, which I feel confident are already adorning the mantelpiece of many a Javanese home.

An excruciating 12-hour minibus ride brought us to the city of Yogyakarta ('Jogja'), Java's historical centre, where we have busied ourselves visiting the awesome temples of Prambanan and Borobudur. Not content to take a costly package trip to the former (a 9th century, UNESCO listed Hindu temple), we hired bicycles and rode an 18km route along the canal instead. The owner had guesstimated the bikes at 35 years old, but I think you could comfortably add a '0' to the end of that and be nearer the right age. Unsurprisingly, we both had delicate derrieres the next day and so took a bus to spectacular Borobudur (the world's biggest buddhist temple - from the 8th century) for sunrise the next day. After a good slice of culture here, its on to Medan (Sumatra) tomorrow for a visit to Lake Toba and, hopefully, a trekking encounter with wild Orang-utans.

The next update, I hope, will be from Malaysia.

Lots of love.

Mike and Jess