Picture that tropical paradise island, volcanic sands lapped
by azure waters, lush vegetation springing out between thatch bungalows, a soft
ocean breeze, where locomotion is by bicycle or horse drawn cart…and the
biggest decision is banana pancakes or omelet for breakfast.
The island of Gili Air is named for the water
that surrounds it, lapping up on the lovely beaches.
It is the way Bali was 30 years ago, like the
Thai beaches we visited in 1980, and probably like Mexico was even before that
– palapas on the beach, informal signs tacked to coconut trees advertising
meals for the equivalent of $2-4.
To back up, how did I get here?
In my last post, I had just completed a circuit of the
Australian state of Victoria, driving the Great Ocean Road and visiting the
Grampians. After turning in my rental
car (dent-free despite the left-side driving!) at the Melbourne airport, I flew
to Hobart on Christmas Day, and did my best to see as much of Tasmania as I
could over the next week.
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| Watching the yachts come in to Hobart |
Hobart was in a frenzy of excitement about the Sydney-Hobart
Race about to start on the 26
th and the Taste of Tasmania, due to
open a few days later.
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| Tombstone in Hobart cemetery |
Hobart is old by
Australian standards, one of the first cities to be founded in the early 1800’s
when England could not longer send their unwanted felons to the US and had to
find a new dumping ground.
Australia was
it.
And Tasmania, being ALMOST at the
end of the known world, was deemed to be perfect.
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| Guide at Sarah Island explaining feature of penal colony |
I had read The Fatal Shore, and was
interested in seeing some of the old penal colonies.
I was also keen to see all of the other
famous features of Tasmania – white sandy beaches, waterfalls, wallabies,
wombats and wilderness.
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| Pademelons in Tasmania |
Over the course
of 6 days, I visited two penal colonies, circuited the island, shot photos of
exotic animals, hiked many many many kilometers and met some people from all
over the world on my tours groups.
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| Tasmanian wilderness area |
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I had
opted to join tours rather than drive myself and I was very glad I did.
The group with which I did the island circuit
bonded over four days – I will long remember our pizza in Strahan with 14 people
from 13 different countries (China, Malaysia, Hong Kong, Japan, US, Burma,
Sweden, Germany, Holland, Australia, India, Wales and England) all speaking
English in their own way.
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| New Year's Eve in Hobart |
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We enjoyed
each other so much we reconvened for New Years Eve in Hobart, to watch the last
of the yachts come in and the fireworks go off.
A special highlight in Hobart was my visit to MONA, the
Museum of Old and New Art, built and owned by a Tasmania native who grew up in
a blue-collar neighborhood of Hobart.
Being a math whiz and gifted with Asperger’s, he managed to make his
fortune in gambling, and in 2011 opened MONA, a museum that redefines the ‘art
museum’ experience.
It’s been described
as ‘Disneyland for adults’ and I was mesmerized.
I was glad I had set aside the entire day for
the trip and I would highly recommend a stop even if you were not the kind of
person who likes museums.
It starts with
a ferry ride, followed by a climb up 99 steps to the entrance, then a walk or
elevator back down to the first floor.
The exhibits and installations reflect the owners broad and eccentric
interests with 4000 yr. old Egyptian sarcophagi placed in the same room as pieces
created only months ago.
Live music
ricochets off the live rock walls from the first floor to the third, and the
rhythmic sound of water from an installation forms a constant backdrop.
The museum pulses and vibrates with energy
and excitement – it is quite amazing.
Instead of an audio guide, you receive an IPOD with commentary about
each piece provided by the owner or the curator…quite absorbing.
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| Hell's Gate in the background - in the Roaring Forties |
Sailing was also high on my interest in Tasmania…not only
was I able to see the yachts from that fabled race, but on one of our tours, I
went through Hells Gates, the entrance to the penal colony with the worst
reputation in Tasmania: Sarah Island.
Hell’s Gates is in the Roaring 40’s, a narrow slot between two craggy
rocks that sailing ships had to navigate to supply the penal colony.
That is now the farthest point south I have
been on a boat.
When I was on the ferry
to MONA, I met some people who were involved with the Launceston to Hobart Race
(which happens about the same time) and we exchanged sailing stories.
An hour later we bumped into each other in
the museum – they had been looking for me to see if I might want to help
deliver the boat back to Melbourne.
I
was tempted…what an opportunity!
But I
would not have been guaranteed of arriving in Bali in time to meet my son,
Reid, who is due on Jan 14.
Another welcome aspect of Hobart was the weather – which was
much like home in the summer (which is the season that it was in Hobart) – I
was very comfortable in shorts and a T shirt, with a light jacket when the wind
came up.
I left Australia with many new friends and a great deal of
regret. It was interesting to see how
another former British colony was like us, and yet very different. At Port Arthur (another penal colony), about
10 years ago a lone gunman opened fire in the café, having already killed some
of his family, and then took off on a shooting spree on the way back to Hobart,
killing 35 people. The event so
galvanized the country that laws were passed implementing much stricter
regulations about gun ownership, including a ban on assault weapons. People were asked to turn in their guns…and
they did! Amazing. Why can’t we do that?
From Hobart I flew to Indonesia and took a taxi to my guesthouse in Ubud. My guesthouse was on a quiet road that parallels the tourist-ridden Monkey Forest Road (of Eat Pray Love fame). But, not being the tourist avenue, it was lined with rice fields and tiny home-run restaurants - quite lovely.
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Entrance to my room
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| Even the water towers are elegant |
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| Just outside my hotel in Ubud |
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| Even a Starbucks in Ubud |
Ubud is not a beach town; rather
it is a center for arts and culture.
Tourists are not allowed to walk the streets in bikinis and garb that
might offend the locals in Ubud…it never fails to horrify me to see what people
think is appropriate in foreign countries with beachfront…and it is sad that the
local people have to pass a law to keep their towns the way they want them!
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| Classic Ubud gate |
Unlike the rest of Indonesia, Bali is predominantly Hindu
and Hindu art is exuberantly evident in every sightline.
Ubud is set among rice fields with
elaborately decorated guest houses cheek to jowl with intricately carved temple
gates, all fringed with lush greenery bursting out all over – bananas, palms,
papaya and all kinds of plants we only see indoors just explode between
buildings.
Lush and lovely.
I can wander the streets for hours, marveling
at the sheer concentration of artistic accomplishment.
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| Morning market in Ubud |
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Everyone and everything seems to have an aesthetic
sense.
Orange marigolds brighten steps
and shrines and even the cheapest menu item is presented with beauty.
In Malaysia, if you order Nasi Goreng (fried
rice) you get a plate with a pile of fried rice and a fork stuck in it.
In Bali, the rice is molded into a form, set
on a banana leaf cut like a flower, and garnished with a marigold or two.
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| Yoga center platform |
After four days in Ubud, I jumped on a
‘fast boat’ to Gili Air, one of three tiny islands
between Bali and Lombok.
I am staying at
a yoga center in the center of an island that measures only 3 miles around.
There are no motorized vehicles on any of the
three islands…people get around on rusty bicycles or horse carts – which also
serve to carry cargo and anything needing to be moved around.
Unlike Bali,
these islands, like the rest of Indonesia, are Muslim, and the warbling
moan of the muezzin can be heard from the local mosque 5 times a day.
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| Fishing boats off Gili Air |
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| Boat yard on Gili Air |
This place reminds me of Thailand 30 years ago, but 10 years
from now, it will not be the sleeping fishing village it still is.
A bit sad, I have to say; in the meeting of
subsistence living and industrialized culture, subsistence living gets the
short stick.
I wish people could
just
appreciate the beauty without adding the beer and the bass woofers!
It’s a bit hilarious to see ‘Free Wi-Fi”
(which they pronounce
why-fee) chalked onto the lunch board along with
gado-gado
and
mee goring!
But the yoga center
is quiet and a nice respite: it’s been a great way to work out the kinks from
10 weeks on a boat and 3 more weeks of constant travelling.
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| Other than bicycle, the only form of transport on Gili Air |
I left Gili Air reluctantly, and spent a night in Padangbag, the fishing village that serves as the terminus for the fast boats to the islands. This is one of the villages from which the fleet of junkung boats left the morning we sailed past Bali for the first time in October, and the beach is lined with them, all pulled up on shore. I'll be leaving here today to return to Ubud and wait for my son Reid to arrive in a couple of days.
From Ubud, we flew to Yogjakarta (alternatively spelled
Jogjakarta, Djogjakarta, Yogyakarta…..).
The difference between artsy, charming Ubud and the bustling big city of
Yogya was striking – it’s a sprawling landscape of tin and tile roofs, concrete
block and back alleys, where taxis, motorbikes, buses and becaks, weave among
each other in a constant stream. I was
pleasantly surprised when our taxi pulled up to a very modern hotel (I had made
bookings sight unseen) where we had a double room that would be considered
deluxe by US standards, although it cost less than the hostel dorms I had been
staying in in Australia! It had a lap
pool and a buffet feast for breakfast, all for less than $30.
