Transience

Traveling is a transient state – never home, never truly gone. It’s a state of freedom, of exploration, both of yourself and the world. People you meet may be of any age, but it’s irrelevant. Everyone is in that same transient state, so age becomes a number not even worth mentioning. Even names become irrelevant. You may talk to someone for days and never find out their name, or you may call them by country. Canada, Austria, Sweden – they all instantly bring back faces and memories, but not necessarily names. And it’s this being transient that can be the most exhausting part of the journey. Never connecting to a place or people, never having somewhere to come home to. So, after nearly three months of traveling, I am happy to say that soon I’ll be settling. A job has come my way which will allow me to stay in Java for a couple of months, maybe longer. I’ll have a place to call home, I’ll have people to be my family. For a while, at least, I won’t be quite as transient.

Last time I left you all we had just climbed Mt Batur. We finished that day by having glorious massages and bodyscrubs, and having dinner whilst enjoying the sun setting over a lotus garden. The next day marked our departure from the quaint and altogether lovely Ubud. A driver, arranged by the hotel, picked us up from the hustle and bustle of the town and drove us far into the countryside, heading towards a place called Sidemen but never quite reaching it. Our next destination was Darmada Eco Lodge – it looked good on Booking.com, was cheap, and as backpackers that’s usually what guides our decisions. The lodge is tucked away into the rice fields and forests of eastern Bali, with no WiFi and a beautifully lush garden to enjoy. Once we arrived, our booking had become lost and thus the kind (Dutch) owner upgraded us into a family lodge. After a month of roughing it in Australia (living off instant noodles, sharing rooms with 8+ other people), this was a change we had not prepared for. A luxurious double bed, a loft with two more beds, and an outside bathroom with an amazing shower was given to us for a meager €15 each a night. It was bliss.

The next day (after an afternoon of swimming, reading, and simply relaxing) we became a bit more proactive and rented scooters. Bali is not a place for maps or GPS, as roads are often little more than tracks and are ever-changing in the landscape dominated by the forces of nature. Thus, we set off without a clue of where we were going, but instead aimed for a temple we could see from our lodge. The leisurely drive took us past the most amazing views of Bali. Rice fields, temples, villages, forests – the views were simply phenomenal.

As we drove through another one of the tiny villages on the east side of the island, an elderly man stepped onto the road and asked us where we were going. We answered we didn’t know. This seemed to him to be a sign that we needed help and guidance, so within five minutes he had us lock our bikes, take of our flip-flops, and ushered us into his home. Startled, we discovered the man spoke reasonably decent Dutch (we daren’t ask where he learned – the colonial times are not that far behind us yet, and the man looked old enough to have lived through some of the horrors we caused to his country). He sat us down and, in rapid Balinese, asked his daughter-in-law to fetch some tea and snacks. While she was gone, he started teaching us some basic Bahasa Indonesia. The girl returned with tea, banana bread, and a snack of which I forgot the name – it was coconut and rice mashed together, then dried inside corn leaves. The man didn’t even blink and continued straight into stories about Rama, one of the Hindu gods, and his army of monkeys. Following, he started chanting Sanskrit words from dried palm leaves, possibly recounting the stories he had just told us – we had literally no idea what was going on. Eventually, he sold us a couple of sarongs his daughter-in-law made and showed us how to tie them properly before he sent us on our way again.

After we said our goodbyes, we continued our way back to the lodge. Unfortunately, we missed the turn-off our new friend had pointed out and soon found ourselves incredibly lost on the side of a mountain. Locals which barely spoke Indonesian (a lot of people speak the local Balinese) sent us down a tiny gravel road going steeply down towards the valley. Anxious, I wasn’t sure I trusted the brakes and took it slowly. Eventually the scooter gave way underneath me, so I left it lying in the gravel as we decided what to do next. We were lost. A couple of minutes later, we heard the sound of an oncoming scooter and two men carrying large guns stopped and looked at us. We explained (using our basic knowledge of Bahasa Indonesia) that we were lost and needed help to get home. The men smiled and laughed, but drove us down the mountain and had us back at the lodge in less than 15 minutes. It was a relief to sit by the river and just enjoy the sunset.

The next day we had booked onto a boat heading to Nusa Lembongan, an island recommended by my cousin and several other travelers we met along the way. The lodge’s driver took us to Sanur, a seaside town about an hour away from which the boat would depart. He helped us buy our tickets and said his goodbyes, as we contemplated the safety of the boat and the journey ahead. But the speedboat (carrying what looked like regularly worn life-vests) got us across safely in just under 30 minutes, though it had made suspicious sounds that made us (and the other tourists on-board) feel a little bit uneasy. Once we arrived on the island, a guy with a sign saying Sayd was waiting for us. Clearly, the girl on the phone had misunderstood my name. He took us to the hostel by scooter. Two scooters, two drivers, two girls, and four big backpacks. It was utterly terrifying, but rewarded once we reached our new temporary home.

The rest of the day was spent enjoying the hotel’s infinity pool, playing Yaniv with some Finnish guy (he taught us how to swear in Finnish, of course), and taking in the absolutely unreal sunset. We wanted to go snorkeling the next day, and the Finnish guy (again, no name – just a face and a nationality) pointed us to a guy cleaning a boat in front of the hotel. We asked him if he did snorkeling tours. “Yes. I pick you up tomorrow at 8am. Bye.” And so we went to bed, wondering what we’d see the next day.

The next morning the guy was waiting for us as promised, and we boarded his boat with an Australian and a French couple. He explained he’d be taking us to four sites. The first site was close to a rock wall, and the sea was so rough he quickly took us out again – but not before I had been stung by a jellyfish. The Australian had seen a shark, but I’m skeptical. Australians see sharks everywhere. It was probably just a heavily oversize fish. The next spot was a lot calmer but had little to see. The corals were damaged in places and the visibility wasn’t great. The third spot showed us some enormous (ENORMOUS) fish, which I couldn’t help but swim away from as the current swept us away. Soon I realised I was never going to make it back to the boat – the current kept pulling me away and I was not strong enough to swim against it. The French girl saw me struggle (and perhaps heard me swear) and handed me a long stick, by which she and Marije pulled me back aboard. The skipper never even looked up from his phone.

The last site was simply stunning. We’d been driving past the mangrove forests to get there and were surprised by huge amounts of coral, with an even larger amount of fish. As I snorkeled, I realised it might have been even a better spot than the Great Barrier Reef, though the sites are probably too different to compare. But the water was busy with speedboats and tourists being pulled around on inflatable bananas. They were oblivious to the beauty below them and it left me feeling sad as we headed back to the hotel.

After a mandatory relaxing session by the pool, we rented bikes and cycled around the island. In about three hours we’d gone around the whole island, stopping on the way to take in the seaweed farms and play Yaniv. We’d driven past an open-air “cinema” before and decided to go watch the film that night – Eat Pray Love. Taking place in Italy (oh God I do miss Italy – the food, the people, the language…), India (not so much) and Bali, we felt incredibly single and sad after we watched. As we walked back towards the hotel, we heard an American voice shout “Hey, want to come to the New Moon Party?!”. It came from the back of a truck. Five minutes later we were on our way to an unknown bar with two Californians who loved California very much. At the party we joined some French guys (again, no names – just faces) from our hotel, but everyone seemed a bit out of it and even a shot of tequila couldn’t convince us to stay. We went home and prepared to go to our next destination: Gili Trawangan.

The next morning we were picked up by a truck already carrying another set of Americans, this time from Boston. We all expressed the usual worries about the boat and discussed our plans for Gili T (affectionately sometimes called Gili Tralala). The island is a renowned party island, so the plans were easy. Drink, dance, swim. Not necessarily in that order. The boat was actually a very decent ferry which played Fast & Furious 7 onboard (which we had already seen in Yamba – it was a flashback to Australia). Two hours later, we set foot on Gili T. The island is car- and scooter-free, and so the only way around the island is by bike or by carriage. As in, horse-drawn carriage. The most overpowering sound is that of klaxons and bells indicating a horse about to trot by.

We walked straight past the hostel we were supposed to check into (it looked a little bit dodgy) and instead checked in at Gili Backpackers. From luxurious bungalows back to a hostel, we now share with 8 once again but have met a load of new people this way. There’s some Brits, some Americans, and some Canadians, but mostly there are Dutch. Over the last few weeks, I have spent more time with Dutch people than I have in the last six years. We went shopping with one of the dutch girls and soon headed out for the night. We, once again, ended up at a new moon party where people were dancing under the stars whilst drinking shroom shakes and doing God knows what other drugs. Once the music started to become too much like D&B, I decided to call it a night and went home.

The next morning we all woke up (feeling perhaps a bit tender) but signed up for a snorkeling trip nonetheless. By 10.30am we were sat on a glass-bottom boat, were promised turtles, and had changed our dresses and make up for bikinis and snorkels. The visibility on Gili T is insane – the water is incredibly clear and the temperature pleasant. Our first site was more coral and fish than we could’ve asked for and we were soon anxious to see some turtles. The guide thus took us to Turtle Point, where in the space of half an hour we saw six turtles. He would dive down and point them out to us, though the first one swam straight past us. It was a childhood dream come true.

The jellyfish were numerous though, and soon my entire body was tingling with tiny little stings. I was happy to get out of the water and go for lunch. After lunch, we saw huge schools of fish and I swam in between a school of squid – when they just float there, with their tentacles pointing out at you, they look like something evil out of the Avengers. All in all it was a brilliant trip.

We finished the day at a fancy bar on the main strip, after having finished my book on the beach earlier. But, exhausted and not feeling like drinking, Marije and I called it an early night and headed back to the hostel whilst the rest of Gili T undoubtedly continued the party until sunrise. We’ll join in eventually.

It’s been nearly three months of traveling for me, and now that things are drawing to a close I’m aware of the changes that are ahead. From lazing around without a plan, I’ll soon have to take charge of situations and make decisions, let alone set an example. Gili T is largely Islamic, and I’m slowly adjusting myself and my wardrobe to the upcoming changes. It’s been an adventure of one kind, and I’m ready for the next.