While staying in Ubud we made a few more trips to visit temples: Gunung Kawi, Tirta Empul and Goa Gajah. Then it started to rain. After 3 days of rain all our stuff and our rooms started to stink and laundry kept hanging wet, showing no signs of drying.
On a side note – just after two weeks I think I took to many clothes (out of 5 t-shirts 2 are stil untouched, same with shorts and underwear). I should have listened to advice and take 3 pieces of each. But if someone is a princess, will end up humpbacked.
Our initial pace was quite fast (visit as many places on a single day as possible) and it took us a few days to realize we do not have to hurry. In fact we do not have to do anything. So we let go (and my greedy soul already weeps that we have not seen the international eco-school). We moved to a tiny island of Nusa Lembongan, south of Bali in order to lay on the beach or perhaps try to ride a scooter in low traffic. Aaaand I finished my antibiotics prescription and the diving centers are here one right after another….
Second side note is that somewhere along the way I had my first tiny crisis (too quickly?). Travelling through an unknown land we have to organize everything by ourselves and it takes time to do the research. What, how to get there, how much money we need, what’s next, how much cash in local currency to have at hand, is there an ATM around, what we will eat, did this guy just try to cheat you, will the volcano explode, etc… Plus spending 24 ours of each day, every day, with two young boys who can start a fight about almost anything. “I do not like it, I am tired, I am hungry, when we will get there, it hurts, we were supposed to go for a walk, I though we will stay in a tent, mum he pisses me off, could you tell him, you interrupted me again, my dear grandma’s puppy….” And then you just want to go for a walk in a random direction, buy cigarettes and never come back. Just to make sure no one is talking to you (and a side-side note is that they have clove-flavored cigarettes with sugar in the filter which have a sweet taste and pop while smoking – Pielewin’s fans will smile here…).
In such moments I start to wonder what I did wrong, what parent am I, what have I left behind me? I think about my family, friends, people from the company I just left (yes, you may quit a job but it takes time for the job to leave you. And if you left many great people behind, then it takes even more time). Then it goes like: what are we even doing here, why, they said it is dangerous, terrorists, spiders and the volcano… So while wading in holy water in one of the temples to receive a blessing my wires got overheated and I started to cry… just a little. I was going to Nusa Lembongan with stones in my stomach and a tsunami in my head.
And then there were manta rays. My big dream. We were lucky with Tytus – the visibility was great and there were few of them, very close. Meeting such a majestic creature is breathtaking and it is difficult to find words to describe it. And I tested my good-bye present!
The manta-experience cleared my mind and we spent a week on Nusa doing nothing (except for the boys, they still study sometimes). I really needed this. After 6 days we started to feel it is time to move on so we came back to Bali. The police stopped us two times today. They were very polite, asked where are we going, made some photos. The 2nd encounter was on a bus station where we were the only white people and we were with kids. A local attraction. It felt a bit scary when they surrounded us with their big guns but overall the meeting was very nice. Thank you, you are welcome, have a nice day, you have nice kids…
We found a bus going to Gilimanuk on the western tip of the island in order to catch a ferry to Java. The bus had a crack across its windscreen and many parts were literally holding together thanks to duct tape and wire. All the way to Gilimanuk all doors and windows were open and thank god – otherwise we would die in cigarette smoke and heat. Along the way the sellers of everything hopped onto the bus. We had even one singer. His version of “Hey Jude” on ukulele and harmonica was so bad it made me smile until the end of our journey. On the ferry we had another attaction – the ferry band – with an even worse singer. I really do not understand their affection to melancholic melodies and singing through clouds of cigarette smoke. Java welcomed us with less dense traffic, pavements and clean houses. To maintain the balance, muezins call for prayer 5 times a day. And their speaker volume is set SO THAT EVERYONE COULD HEAR FOR SURE.
In the next few days we plan to climb Mount Ijen and Bromo and perhaps meet the turtles in Sukamade. Then a train to Yogyakarta.