Honeymoon, Part 2

The day before we planned to leave Balian, Mark and I had a sudden thought – sure, we’d arranged for a car to take us from Balian to Benoa Harbour, and a ferry to take us from Bali to Gili Trawangan – but how would we get from the ferry to our hotel? We sent an email and had our reply in a few minutes – ‘Just hop on a horse cart and tell them to take you to Hasan’s place!’

          

Mark and I looked at each other and laughed – a horse cart?! But we were game, and at 5AM the next morning we wheeled our suitcases up the dirt road and waited for our car. The people at Pondok Pisces were so worried about us that they had someone wake up to keep us company, and when our car ran late they sent another person out to the main road to help the driver in case he was lost (he was). It was just another kindness out of many that made Mark and I so affectionate toward Pondok Pisces and Balian Beach – and made us promise, again, to return one day.

           

The car ride was insane – because the driver was late to pick us up, he didn’t want us to miss the ferry – and included higher speeds and running a few red lights. But we made it to the ferry along with a few dozen other passengers (including a gigantic Australian family who had kindly equipped all of their children with Bongo drums which made for a particularly noisy trip) and took off for Lombok and Gili Trawangan.

Dewi and and her husband Hasan own and run Gili Hideaway, the next stop on our journey. They had come highly recommended by a good friend who had lived in Indonesia and knew Dewi from their work with an NGO in Jakarta, and so we had been very excited to arrive and get an insider’s advice for things to do and see.

             

We disembarked from our horsecart and wandered into… the incorrect entrance to the hotel, waking up an off-duty gardener. But once the confusion had settled, we found ourselves in a little piece of paradise.

Immediately, Sam, on the hotel staff and an awesome help each day, set off to get us rental bikes for the duration of our stay. We were shown to our bungalow, which was adorned with a variety of handmade reed and flower decorations – the gardener had made them all himself, in honor of our honeymoon.

We immediately set off to explore the island, and decided to bike the perimeter. We made it about ¼ of the way before finding ourselves in deep, soft, unbikeable sand – so after a brief dip in the turquoise water, we turned back and grabbed a few refreshments.

There was a lot that we loved about Gili, not least the amazing food we ate or the views we had, but my favourite was the SCUBA diving. It was something I’d always desperately wanted to do, but was afraid that I wasn’t a strong enough swimmer, or that I would become claustrophobic. But after hearing one person after another extol their amazing experiences under the water, I knew we needed to do it. We confirmed our reservations with Big Bubble that afternoon, and brought our books home for a bit of poolside studying.

I don’t know how it happened, but by virtue of our off-season visit and our Tuesday start to classes, Mark and I enjoyed private tutoring for our Open Water dive course. We woke each morning to the sound of a few confused roosters crowing before the sun rose, and Mark would go for a run while I showered. Once we were both dressed, we’d emerge for strong coffee and omelettes or banana pancakes, then pack our backpacks and climb on our bikes to head to school. We had a brief instruction by a rather stern French man (and the complete stereotype from every Carribean SCUBA diver you’ve ever seen in a movie), but then switched to Andy, a Birmingham-born instructor, and Jin, our trainee instructor. This basically meant one-on-one attention in our pool sessions and under the water, and we had a completely relaxed and amazing time. We joked and laughed during the practice sessions, but I was almost hyperventilating as we took the boat for our first dive, that first afternoon. After a bit of a panicked descent (I tried to equalize my ears but ended up getting water in my goggles), I calmed down and looked around.

It was like being in a BBC documentary – but better than anything I’d ever seen in HD.

These photos are from some snorkelling we did (right off the beach from our bungalow), but it captures a bit of what we saw. We couldn’t take the camera with us to the depths we dove (12 and 18 meters, a total of 4 dives), and so you’re missing some of the more spectacular coral formations, giant turtles, and myriad fish and sights we glimpsed… I think both Mark and I were amazed at how much we enjoyed ourselves, and we would talk about each dive and plan for the next day at each meal. We slept hard, exhausted from the exercise and homework, but woke each morning excited for what we would see beneath the waves.

         

Additionally, diving has given us a renewed appreciation for ‘insider lingo,’ and we try to incorporate as many of our dive ‘signs’ as we can in normal conversation. It’s easier than you might think…

(also, for those non-strong swimmers out there, I did manage to pass my swimming test, although it was slow, alone, in the rain, while being watched solemnly by a large crew of hard-drinking German tourists)

        

Evenings were spent over leisurely meals and dark bike rides home across dirt paths and through deep puddles (there was a bit of rain while we were there). We would take a late-night dip in the pool, play a bit of cribbage or, once he grew more comfortable with us, get tutored in dinosaur facts by Dewi and Hasan's adorable four year-old son, Alfie, before crawling into bed. 

Our last day we puzzled over what to do. The sands of the coral island weren’t too amenable to simply staking out a spot with a blanket, and we could only wade about 15m before encountering living reefs (at about knee-depth), so we decided to bike up island. There, we spotted a barely inhabited resort with a pretty spectacular deck and a great selection of reasonably priced beverages.

What else could we ask for on the best honeymoon I could have ever imagined?

The next morning was a bit harried, due to some confusion about payment (we forgot the hotel couldn’t accept credit cards), resulting in a mad dash by Mark to the island's only ATM, and probably some reluctance to move on to our next spot. But on the ferry ride back to the mainland, Mark grabbed my hand and squeezed it a few times. I think we’ll be back.

Honeymoon, Part 1

Kathleen and I set out on our honeymoon to Indonesia early on the morning of Thursday, April 1^st. Roughly 22 hours later, we were at the Indonesian border pleading with some sketchy looking immigration officials to let us into the country. Kathleen had been doing a ton of travelling for work and space was running thin in her passport for stamps. For some reason, US passports reserve the last four pages for ‘amendments and endorsements.’ Despite the fact that other countries had used this area for stamps, the officials were claiming there was nothing they could do. They would get in trouble if they used these pages. We were shuffled in front of a few equally risk-averse officials and brought into a back office that was filled with armed men drinking tea and chain smoking cigarettes. All shook their heads one by one, and we were again brought back out front. At this point, I realized what being married is all about. I have been in similar sketchy situations in third world countries, and have always felt relatively calm and assured I would make it out with no issues. Not this time. I was sweating profusely, my hands were shaking, and my voice was trembling. My imagination was running wild and the thought of my wife getting trapped in the Indonesian penal system was kinda occupying my thoughts. It was pretty obvious these guys were looking for some cash, but I was worried that they would use any offers we made, against us as a way to extort more. Anyhow, Kathleen was cool as can be and after about 20 minutes of us not giving into their subtle (and not so subtle "We were hoping you could give us something for our trouble.") demands, they finally stamped us and away we went.

We eventually emerged from the airport and were hit with the heat immediately, which kinda felt amazing. At the exit, there were hundreds of people standing behind a barrier holding signs up with people’s names on them. The place where we were staying had sent a driver to pick us up and somehow we managed to find him. He whisked us away to his car and we settled into some much appreciated air-conditioning. Within the five minutes it took us to go from the exit to his car, Kathleen and I were both drenched with sweat. The next two hours were spent driving through the streets of Bali to reach our first destination: Balian Beach. Despite being totally exhausted we managed to stay awake for a lot of the trip, and I’m glad we did. The roads were pretty amazing to watch. There was only one lane going in each direction and it snaked up and down the hills of the lush green countryside. Balian drivers seemed to have developed some calm sort of etiquette and order to the chaos of the roads. Despite near misses virtually every second with oncoming traffic and crossing people/animals, horns blaring in all directions, and traffic doubled up passing each other regularly, I never saw any anger or ‘road rage.’ Everyone accepted and anticipated each other’s movements and two hours later we arrived at Balian Beach and where we were staying, Pondok Picses.

Upon arrival we were led to our river side villa and served fresh mango juice:

After checking out our new digs, we took a quick walk down to the beach. At this point I should say that although I initiated the idea of Bali for our honeymoon, Kathleen did most of the research into where to go. She knew I wanted to surf a mellower beach break and that we were not really interested in crowds or any sort of party scene. She did absolutely perfectly with this first stop. In fact she did so well, that people we met in the days ahead were shocked that we had found the place on our own and were not told to go there by others. 100 yards from our doorstep, we emerged on the black volcanic sands of the beach. Balian resides in a cove of sorts with the Balian River on one side, and cliffs on the other. To our backs were the 3 or 4 establishments making up the ‘village’, and straight ahead was a perfectly shaped wave. This was exactly what we were looking for.

For the next 5 days we settled into a very mellow routine: surfing, eating, drinking beer/milkshakes, napping, watching the surf, and more eating. The only reason people really came here was to surf or to relax while their family members surfed. There was nothing touristy about the place and everything was super subtle and mellow. Despite the fact that it was so surf-centric, it did not really attract your typical party dudes. There were people of all ages and everyone was super friendly. You met the same people eating breakfast, at the bar, in the line-up, and at dinner. All of the locals seemed to appreciate the visitors and there were a lot of people from the ‘village’ surfing as well. I was able to rent a board from Pondok and paddled out a number of times to catch some waves. The line up was mellow and most people seemed to be very friendly. Since these were my first sessions in a number on months I was a bit rusty and was definitely challenged. One day it was actually way too big, so I was on the sidelines. This was totally fine, because watching the amazing level of surfing was so much fun. The main restaurant/bar sits right on the beach and they had built the whole thing to allow for prime spectating. While I was surfing, Kathleen was happy to bury herself in the numerous books she brought along, or to sip milkshakes and take photos. One older surfing couple we met explained to her that in order to become the perfect surfer’s wife she needed to bring a long tripod and a video camera. I seem to remember someone getting a tripod for Christmas…

The surf:

The views:

The other amazing part of where we were staying was the food. We had delicious tuna, steaks, shrimp, chicken, rice, and a whole host of vegetables while we were there. The kitchen where we stayed served up all sorts of super fresh dishes at ridiculous prices. This place was not only cheap by UK/US standards, but as we found out by Indonesian standards as well. We loved coming here for breakfast and dinner. I was usually exhausted from the surf, and we would both drink a few beers, eat our grub, and play a few games of cribbage. Here is the view from where we ate:

I would say that within the first few hours of being in Balian we felt totally relaxed and so far removed from all the stress of work. I believe it was the morning of the first full day where I started talking about our savings and dreaming about how far it would take us down here. It was an amazing first stop on our honeymoon and I think if we were to have only been to Balian, that in and of itself would have been a perfect trip. However, we had much more in store for us and we were looking forward to the next stop. So we packed up and woke up at 4:30 the morning of our departure and walked up to the dirt road to meet our driver. On our way up we ran into an expat who seemed to be in his fifties and was married to a local woman. With a warm greeting he trotted by with his board under his arm and his dog not too far behind, to get some pre-sunrise waves. Amazing…

Happy Days

The past few weeks have been a flurry of activity - busy days at work for me and Mark, late dinners, and the weekends have seemed too far and few between. Nevertheless, we've managed to squeeze a lot of fun in, including the Wirral Food and Drink festival a few weeks ago.

As we've mentioned in previous posts, we're starting to pay a lot more attention to what we eat and where it comes from. The northwest of England is blessed with some great local food options, and we've sampled local ice-cream, lamb, cheese, fruit and vegetables. The food festival was a great opportunity to see more of these local vendors, ones with amazing food but a little too far to go for a weekly errand. The festival was held on the grounds of the Claremont Farm, our current source of fresh vegetables and meats, and we had a great time - sampling from the tents, horsing around and, of course, people watching.

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When I see an adult on a bicycle, I do not despair for the future of the human race. - H.G. Wells

Last week, a giant box arrived in the mail for me. Mark was good and didn't take a peek (I was away for work), but on Saturday we ripped it open. I'd ordered a bike from a little shop in East London, and we set to work trying to put it together.

In an hour or so, we'd assembled what looked like a bike, but it didn't quite work like a bike. I'd like to say that we soldiered on and made it work (ah, Tim Gunn, how I miss you), but Mark recommended that we take it to a local bike shop and have them make a few adjustments. After all, when you're talking about brakes, it's probably not the best idea to just ignore the problem.

We took it for a debut ride last Sunday, into town and then over to the farm, but it wasn't until today that we really showed her off.

Mark spent the morning skateboarding in Runcorn, and when he came back we grabbed the bikes and headed downtown to Everyman Bistro for lunch. Sated and happy, we then rode down to the docks and fooled around for a while - trying out some 'Agility Training' (sort of a private joke, though there is an Agility Training course near Liverpool where dogs can learn to jump through rings of fire... Mark really wants to enroll the dog) while thoroughly unimpressed pedestrians watched.

We rode along the promenade back to our neighborhood, then took Miller to the park. He's slowly getting used to the bikes, but I think his favorite part is the constant running and weaving between and in front of us to see our reactions.

After a little rest on the grass, we both felt refreshed. A pretty perfect Saturday afternoon.

PS. This was really all I meant to write today, but I just ran out and picked up a book at the library. Normally, this wouldn't be very exciting, but as the librarian wrote out the due date on the front page, I realized she was writing our wedding date.

WHOA. We are officially getting hitched in three weeks!

I got a little giddy (the librarian wishes us both the best) and practically skipped the whole way home...