Trading Bungalows for Bikes

I believe in the adage too much of a good thing - chocolate, menu options, goals, boyfriends, etc. And I discovered that even sitting on the beautiful beaches of Bali can also fall into that category. Take a dip, read, snooze, gaze at the waves, snooze, read, take a dip, watch sunset....rather, rinse, repeat. It was broken up with an (failed) attempt at surfing, and some adorable little girls trying successfully to use their powers of cuteness to get me to buy their bracelets. But over all, after a week and a half, I was beginning to sound like these guys. So I was grateful when a Fellow friend suggested trading in our bungalow for motorbikes and exploring Lombok, Bali's neighboring island. I've always been more of a playitsafe kinda girl, and the thought of a semi-unplanned (we still had the guidance of a good friend and our internet-capable phones to fall back on) trip was very alluring. Three of us packed up our gear and boarded a boat just after New Year's to let come what may.

First came the zombies. As our boat ran ashore in the harbor, half a dozen old, leathery men closed in on the bow of the boat with wrinkled hands out-reached for luggage. Baaags....baaags....The young Californian girl in front of me sternly chided a man in a Mets shirt as one of the zombies grasped his small, red bag. Baaags....baaags.... No, no don't let him....now they're going to charge you....baaags....baaags....

Then came the rain. We, in our excitement to get out of Dodge, hadn't really considered the fact that spending lots of time on motorbikes during rainy season would results in us getting wet, really wet. After finding a shady "International Hotel" and renting two bikes, we stopped at a road-side store to buy Jen some rain gear (see picture right).

Rain gear and motorbike helmets make perfect bank robbery outfits, so Jen decided to do that next. Jon and I waited outside the bank while Jen walked in with full gear, unable to ever lift the broken visor on her helmet. This alarmed the guards.
Guards: Please take off your helmet.
Jen: (lifts visor) What? I can't hear you, I have a helmet on.
Guards: Hahahahahahaha. 
(Jen, Jon, and Jackie get on bikes and exit stage right)
Guards: Hahahahahahaha.

We made a clean get away and headed east across the center of the island. Our goal was to get to the Northeast coast before dark where our friend, Jess, had called in a favor at a local's homestay. An hour and a half in, not even our rain gear could hold back the cold and wet, so we stopped at a road-side restaurant to get something hot to eat and drink. We were well into our delicious rice, veggie, and chicken meals when the man with an automatic assault rifle walked in. This alarmed my travel companions and I, who had been periodically passing the time by reading aloud a book about Indonesian military and police human rights atrocities against innocent civilians. We all shoved food into our mouths with one eye slanted toward the man with the gun. He and his companion were not there to kill us after all, though. They waited for takeout, and left with a friendly nod in our direction.

We continued. I called Jess for more directions on how to get to the homestay. Go to the end of the island, turn left. Pass the Jurassic-Park like trees, go left around a really big curve, and over the bumpy road. You'll see a blue sign on your left. Right. When asking the locals resulted in even less help, we just decided to drive on. Remarkably, we found the place.

The next morning, we boarded a sea-worthy vessel - we were pretty sure - with three young Indonesian men and a guitar. They took us on a short ride out to three small islands, each only big enough for a few fisherman huts and farmers. The first two islands only took about 20 minutes to walk the perimeter. The snorkeling off the coast of these islands was spectacular. Blue star fish, hermit crabs, Nemo and his friends, and much more laid just under the water off the coast. We explored to our hearts content, and then explored some more.

Sea-worthy Vessel - probably.

Hearts contented.

With Northeast Lombok conquered, we packed up after one night's stay and headed to the South, to Kuta Beach. This time, we lucked out with the rain and only got half-drenched during the morning hours. By the time we got to the South coast, we were dry and lost, instead of wet and lost; an improvement, as being lost anywhere along the coast in Lombok results in amazing views of bright blue bays laced in vibrant green palm trees. This is where a brave Jon let me take over control of the bike and navigate the windey, but empty roads - just a few dogs and cows meandering on and off the road. We didn't crash, and I got to live out my dream of driving a motorbike somewhere around Southeast Asia. Thanks, Jon! I handed back over the controls as we entered the more tourist-populated area of Kuta Beach. We stopped to eat lunch on a white-sand beach and re-group about what to do next. While we ate our authentic Mexican food (probably) two young boys of about 11 or 12 approached us.

Boy 1: You want a ticket to the moon?
Jon: A ticket to the moon, eh? What do you mean?
Boy 1(holds up a plastic bag full of mushrooms): You eat these, and you go to the moon.
Jon: Oh. What do the police think about me going to the moon?
Boy 1: The police are happy when they eat these. 
Boy 2: Ticket to the moon! 
Jon: Ha. I don't think so, but thanks. 
Boy 2: You can put them in your food. Pancakes. Burritos. Gado-gado. You be happy. 
Jon: Oh yeah? You're such a good salesman, but no thanks.

After avoiding our little hawkers and potential imprisonment (hey, I've seen Locked Up Abroad. No, thank you), these guys walked in front of our chairs. And with that, we decided to leave Kuta. 

Based on this one time when Jon saw some pretty Google images of Southwest Kuta, we decided to get back on the bike and go there. I used my smart phone to find accommodations on yet another island off the coast called Gili Gede. I talked on the phone with Peter Jones, an American originally from Columbus, Ohio who likes to jam with his flute. Peter agreed to reserve his one remaining room. So we went. And we saw this along the way:

Crystal blue bays.

Beautiful rice terraces.

Stunning harbor views.

Untouched lands.

Eight to nine hours total on the bike, and we were ready for bed by the time we reached Peter Jones' Secret Island Resort on the edge of Gili Gede. We politely excused ourselves from a jam session, and watched one more spectacular sunset in silence; I guess there is one thing you can't have too much of.

We had nearly circumnavigated the island of Lombok over three days, on motorbikes that cost a total of $26 - and that's including the cost of gas. The next day I headed to the airport; a sore bum, my suitcase full of putrid smelling clothes, and thoughts of a vacation well-played turning up the corners of my mouth.