Gay Midgets & Dragons

On the plane to Bali I was wondering which of the contradicting descriptions of this infamous Indonesian island I was about to discover for myself. Was it going to be the paradise that caused people to flock here in the first place, or was it going to live up to the overdeveloped, soulless, Aussie tourist destination some describe it as?  We were going to use it as a base for other parts of Indonesia but I was still hoping it would be more than just the later as we were looking forward to slowing down the pace and to spend a couple of months here. We'd booked a cheap hotel to stay for one night to find our feet. But they hadn't turned up to pick us up, or at least we couldn't see them through the sea of waving taxi drivers so we sacked it off and headed for central Kuta. 

This is the place that is renowned for overdevelopment but it's the closest to the airport and a good starting point. I'd heard of a road called Poppies 2 which is full of cheap homestays that aren't on the internet, which seemed a good place to start as I couldn't find anything on the Internet for less than £15 a night. 

As the taxi drove through the terrible traffic of central Kuta I started to witness some of the development for myself: Hard Rock cafe, Quicksilver shops, the first M&S I'd seen for 9 months to name a few if the inauthentic western franchises. We jumped out and began to walk though the sea of surf bound Aussies toward the homestay areas. The first couple were shitholes, but then a young man asked us if we wanted a room and said he knew a good one. We followed him down a tiny alley, I Iet Greg go on as I couldn't be bothered walking all the way down there to see another shit room. After 10 minutes he didn't appear I was worried he'd been abducted, it was a very quiet and long winding alley and we had trusted the man. So I followed him in, only to find the most amazing little homestay with a pool, the rooms were basic but with hot water and fan for £10 a night. Perfect.  

We set out to explore Kuta, there were lots of little lanes between the beachside road and parallel main road which housed the main clubs and nightlife. The lanes were cute, with stalls and little warungs (cheap restaurants) but the traffic of scooters and taxis attempting to get down the narrow one lane roads was ridiculous, every time pushing you into the stalls where you got hounded by the hawkers trying to sell you 'I love Bali' stubby holders, wooden cock shaped bottle openers, and 'I love fucking gay midgets' bumper stickers...... Their lure to persuade you extended to putting on with Aussie accents. Pure class. 

The beachfront had a huge glossy part opened shopping centre, it was very nice but not very authentic. Although it did house a burger king which we may have taken advantage of....

On the only positive note though the beach was pristine, there were designated swimming flags with lifeguards and the locals seemed to be thriving and in good spirits about all the foreigners.

At night it achieved a whole new level. The clubs were horrific, blaring out different nondescript music that clashed and caused speakers to fuzz. They were also expensive and full of what I can only describe as Aussie chavs. The cliched knarly surfer look, consisting of shaggy matted hair, Bintang vest, and dumbness that makes you believe they must have been dropped on the head at birth, was as common a sight as shit in a sewer. And the only other choice of bar were full of those same people in 40 years time. Let's just say the word class was not in their vocabulary. I know that makes me sound stuck up, but it's just a cultural thing, you could say the same about some of the Brits you see in the Spanish costas. 

So after a couple of days stocking up on big macs, we thought it was time to get into the true Indonesia. We caught a local flight to Luaban Bajo in Flores. It was a pretty amazing flight in itself as we looked out into the clear sky onto some amazing views of the volcanos on Bali, Lombok, Sulawesi and also the picture perfect Gili islands. Landing at the tiny airport with only a few other westerners, surrounded by lush green mountains and beautiful clear blue sky, it immediately felt like we'd come off the beaten track.

Luaban Bajo was a ramshackle little harbour with about 4 'hotels' and a couple of restaurants. I use the term hotel loosely, our room at £5 a night consisted of a bed, a toilet without a seat and a cold water tap. There was no sink or shower. It was filthy, and smelt, but when you come to a place without many tourists you can't expect the people to know how to run and maintain a hotel. And it did include a kind of donut thing and a banana for breakfast.... 

On our first evening we found the Paradise Bar which has to be one of the only bars I've ever been that lives up to it's name. The view over the islands in the bay was amazing. And this place was the beginning of the tourist revolution, but as the tourists hadn't really arrived yet it was full of locals. It was great to watch them, all men of course, they were in family groups of all ages the youngest being about 10, having to use both hands to pour his giant bottle of Bintang. The boy's idol seemed to be Bob Marley and they weren't shy about getting up and dancing, jigging about with their Afros. 

It was quite a mission trying to find a boat to Rinca or Komodo to see the dragons. The price depended on how many people were interested, and without many people about but plenty of entrepranarial fishermen, it was hard to find anyone with people already signed up to their boat. Finally we found one more person so got a better price. The three of us set out for Rinca, the journey took about 2 hours, and was again beautiful riding through the bay. Rinca is totally unspoiled with just a few ranger's huts. Our guide, born in Rinca itself, was very passionate about the dragons and looking after them and it was great to see. Although slightly disconcerting as he carried a long stick and we couldn't talk to him whilst hiking incase he lost his concentration searching for dragons. After all, their bite is toxic due to a bacteria contained in their saliva. They know this and will hunt their pray, usually buffalo, but stop at just one bite, they then follow the animal over several days until it dies a slow painful death. At which point they'll eat it, if they're hungry. A tourist was bitten a few years ago, before the accompaniment of rangers was enforced. His body was never found... 

We didn't get the pleasure of seeing them roaming the bush unfortunately, as during the midday heat they congregate in the shade of the rangers hut where they soak up the cooking smells. The huts are on stilts and they don't seem to bother trying to climb the steps, although a few rangers and kids have been killed over the years! We kept our distance. They were very dinosaur looking, but I have to say I did expect them to be slightly bigger, they were about 5ft in length, apparently they can grow up to 6.5ft. I guess once you've seen a huge croc, it's not quite as impressive. But what with the boat trip, the remoteness of the island, plus making a new friend - Cait on the boat...it was a great day. 

The next day wasn't so great. We are terrible about making decisions at the best of times, and we spent most of the day in a cafe trying to decide what to do next. It always comes down to money. We had made the mistake of flying into the western tip of Flores instead of it's eastern end and working back. Therefore to travel the 4 days overland east to Kelimutu, the impressive volcano, we would need to either retrace our steps or fly from the western airport, both options were expensive. So it came down to how much did we want to see the volcano? We spent several indecisive hours going over our options, afterall it's unlikely we will ever be here again, but could that money go to something else like a flight to Japan? Just getting to Flores had been the best part of £100. In the end we decided to get a flight out and sack the volcano, I can't say I didnt regret that decision, but it was so hard to make that was bound to happen.  

We still had 3 nights before our flight, so we decided to spend it on a private island - Serya. There wasn't much going on in Luaban Bajo apart from the views of the bay, and the friendly people, so we thought we would get inside that gorgeous view. It was owned by a hotel, and I wasn't expecting much for the £12 a night price tag. We picked up the free boat over there the next morning with 3 other guests. Apart from the driver falling asleep during the 2 hour ride and nearly running us aground on some jagged rocks, we made it in one piece. I thought we might be dropping off the other passengers and moving onto our less perfect desert island but no, this was it. It was gorgeous, very very rustic and the 6 little bungalows were very basic with just a toilet and a bucket, but it was a castaway-esk island and that's what we were looking for. And to think people pay thousands to go to private hotel owned islands to be waited on hand and foot, where hundreds of other people have been. This is what I call paradise, no electricity, no fresh water, no bar, no people and no-one else has been here. Ok I couldn't hack it for too long but for two days it was amazing. 

Behind the little curve of white sand there was a big hill where wild goats roamed. At the top of that hill were the most beautiful sunsets over the sea and other deserted islands nearby, and no other human being in sight... Apart from Greg. 

I finally persuaded Greg to attempt snorkeling. He de-armed his glasses and fixed them in the goggles. With a slightly closer shave than normal, Vaseline and some duct tape on his nose he made it out to see the edge of the reef. Unfortunately it only lasted half an hour before the elaborate DIY failed but it was great to see him so happy to see the fish including a moray eel clearly.  

The only downside to the island was the incredibly poor food and service. We were sort of expecting it - it's a desert island of course, but it was terrible. You had to order dinner by 5pm to be served at 7pm although it was closer to 8pm. And by dinner I mean fried rice or noodles, that's all there was for lunch and dinner everyday, and a very small portion at that. We were happy eating that tasty Indonesian staple but why it was so painful to order and then cook I've no idea. 

I was really sad and feeling like we'd made the wrong decision when we got the flight back to Bali, but i had to make do with the only consolation awaiting me in godforsaken Kuta... McDonalds!

We had a very successful day in Kuta. We walked to the out of town shopping centre that wasn't for tourists, and after picking up a few essentials for half the price of the ones in town we headed to the cinema to watch Prometheus, which apparently is up there with rocky 6 of the most anticipated films of all time for Greg. I also love the Alien films, and couldnt believe our luck of stumbling on the cinema which was £2 a ticket, and also sold the best salty popcorn I've tasted in a loooong time. Saying whether a film is good or not depends on your criteria. If it is based on the fact that the film has lots of open ends, doesn't quite make sense and therefore causes you to discuss it for hours then Prometheus is up there with Donny Darko. If it's based on the quality, believable acting and storyline then it's fucking terrible. You decide. It was an interesting experience to go to a cinema where you are the only westerners. It may as well have been Anchorman on screen as they found it equally hilarious, it was quite off putting, along with the constant chattering...but when it's not your country you can't complain so we had to lump it. 

So, so far apart from Kuta which I cant slag off totally as it wasn't all bad, the main thing that springs to mind about Indonesia is the amazing people, about who I can really only say positive things. They are genuinely friendly, happy, honest and generous. Them and the little of beautiful landscape we saw in Flores made us want to linger in Indonesia a little longer. So we extended our visa to a second month and headed to Ubud to check the Balinese 'culture' thing out....