Caro goes colonial
As a logical sequel after having learned how to surf (one of the essential life skills for the modern woman over the age of fourty), I decided to go and climb a volcano in Lombok. As you do. Or do you? I have discovered that some of the things you do as a tourist, you really only do because you can. It's there. The opportunity presents itself so ... let's!
I have never been a 'let's climb to the top of this mountain' kind of person, but with volcanos it's more or less the (only) thing to do. And it was great. I joined a lovely Australian couple on a 3 day hike and I could not have wished for nicer company.
Also, we were quite evenly matched in age, attitude and ambition: my body had only just recovered from the surfing lessons and they had just run 10 k's in the Lombok marathon the day previous. So nobody was in a hurry. Or was there? In order to enter the National Park and climb the volcano you are obliged to hire a guide. Here, as in the orang utan park, the guides' only real concern is money. The rest they just want to get over with as quickly and with as little effort as possible. So our guide practically ran ahead of us most of the time, a speck in the distance on a track (luckily) so clear even a blind person could have followed it. Except on the second morning when we set off at 3 a.m. to reach the top of the mountain in time for the sunrise. Here we were, on a mountain where people have died, scrambling in the dark, sheer drops left and right, the wind howling and our guide nowhere to be seen. That is, until we stumbled over him lying on his back in the middle of the path, sleeping! He had actually run ahead so he could have a snooze! Anyway, once the sun had risen the views were great. However, as far as I am concerned this watching a sunrise from the top of a mountain is rather overrated. It just gets light slowly and then -miracle of miracles?- you can see everything you also could have seen had you climbed up in broad daylight. What is the big deal? I guess I am not romantic enough for this kind of thing. The rest of the day we spent at the beautiful crater lake, soaking our sore bones in the hot springs. One of the good things about the trek was that all the camping gear and all the food was carried up - and prepared! - by porters. I have great admiration for the way they manouvre themselves up and down the mountain with their loads without cracking so much as an egg!
The last day we climbed out of the crater to the rim and descended back to the village where we started. Here is me having a snack just before the final descent:
Climbing a perfect cone up 3000 metres, 'sleeping' (i.e. lying awake half the night) on super thin mats is pretty tough stuff. I had planned to go back to Bali straight away, but there was no question of that: I could barely even walk when I got up the next morning. I decided to get some rest at one of the little Gili islands just off the coast of Lombok. Here I settled down in a lovely little hut just 20 metres from the beach to the serious business of lying in a hammock on my veranda all day.
It turned out that I am actually very, very good at this. A natural even: I barely left my hammock, except to eat and drink and go to bed, for two days straight! The next two days were spent walking around the island (this took all of one and a half hours, after which back to the hammock!) and going on a snorkeling trip.
Thoroughly refreshed and restored I got ready to travel to Ubud in Bali. During my last meal of BBQed black snapper in a beach-side restaurant on the little island I started talking with a middle aged American woman. I had seen her around before; apparently she had been staying there for a while, she even had a lovely little cat and a dog with her - obviously the reason why we struck up a conversation. As we were chatting away she told me she was an artist and lived in Ubud. It is not quite clear to me what kind of artist. Her business card reads:
"Andrea Brae: singer, writer, sob sister, dilettante-at-large, and...karaoke!"
Andrea told me she has a house in Ubud but wanted to escape until the end of the year. Sadly her housekeeper had been kind of lonely since she had been away. Would I be interested in renting the place for a week...?
"Well" I thought "it is a bit unusual, but why not?"
We agreed on a price and a time and place that the housekeeper would pick me up, and now I am staying in a lovely funky house with all mod-cons right-bang in the middle of Ubud! For the same price I would have been happy to pay for a nice room. With a housekeeper, Nyomen, who comes in every morning to cook me breakfast and do a little cleaning. I must say, it feels a little bit colonial! This is her in the semi-outdoor kitchen:
And this is the sleeping area where I sleep during the night and where during the day sleeps - an absolute bonus - a sweet talkative ginger cat. Home sweet home.
PS: 'Lonely housekeeper' turned out to be a eufemism for 'been left uncertain about steady source of income while employer temporarily relocated'. The rent I am paying now provides for a little income again. Talk about colonial...?
I have never been a 'let's climb to the top of this mountain' kind of person, but with volcanos it's more or less the (only) thing to do. And it was great. I joined a lovely Australian couple on a 3 day hike and I could not have wished for nicer company.
Also, we were quite evenly matched in age, attitude and ambition: my body had only just recovered from the surfing lessons and they had just run 10 k's in the Lombok marathon the day previous. So nobody was in a hurry. Or was there? In order to enter the National Park and climb the volcano you are obliged to hire a guide. Here, as in the orang utan park, the guides' only real concern is money. The rest they just want to get over with as quickly and with as little effort as possible. So our guide practically ran ahead of us most of the time, a speck in the distance on a track (luckily) so clear even a blind person could have followed it. Except on the second morning when we set off at 3 a.m. to reach the top of the mountain in time for the sunrise. Here we were, on a mountain where people have died, scrambling in the dark, sheer drops left and right, the wind howling and our guide nowhere to be seen. That is, until we stumbled over him lying on his back in the middle of the path, sleeping! He had actually run ahead so he could have a snooze! Anyway, once the sun had risen the views were great. However, as far as I am concerned this watching a sunrise from the top of a mountain is rather overrated. It just gets light slowly and then -miracle of miracles?- you can see everything you also could have seen had you climbed up in broad daylight. What is the big deal? I guess I am not romantic enough for this kind of thing. The rest of the day we spent at the beautiful crater lake, soaking our sore bones in the hot springs. One of the good things about the trek was that all the camping gear and all the food was carried up - and prepared! - by porters. I have great admiration for the way they manouvre themselves up and down the mountain with their loads without cracking so much as an egg!
The last day we climbed out of the crater to the rim and descended back to the village where we started. Here is me having a snack just before the final descent:
Climbing a perfect cone up 3000 metres, 'sleeping' (i.e. lying awake half the night) on super thin mats is pretty tough stuff. I had planned to go back to Bali straight away, but there was no question of that: I could barely even walk when I got up the next morning. I decided to get some rest at one of the little Gili islands just off the coast of Lombok. Here I settled down in a lovely little hut just 20 metres from the beach to the serious business of lying in a hammock on my veranda all day.
It turned out that I am actually very, very good at this. A natural even: I barely left my hammock, except to eat and drink and go to bed, for two days straight! The next two days were spent walking around the island (this took all of one and a half hours, after which back to the hammock!) and going on a snorkeling trip.
Thoroughly refreshed and restored I got ready to travel to Ubud in Bali. During my last meal of BBQed black snapper in a beach-side restaurant on the little island I started talking with a middle aged American woman. I had seen her around before; apparently she had been staying there for a while, she even had a lovely little cat and a dog with her - obviously the reason why we struck up a conversation. As we were chatting away she told me she was an artist and lived in Ubud. It is not quite clear to me what kind of artist. Her business card reads:
"Andrea Brae: singer, writer, sob sister, dilettante-at-large, and...karaoke!"
Andrea told me she has a house in Ubud but wanted to escape until the end of the year. Sadly her housekeeper had been kind of lonely since she had been away. Would I be interested in renting the place for a week...?
"Well" I thought "it is a bit unusual, but why not?"
We agreed on a price and a time and place that the housekeeper would pick me up, and now I am staying in a lovely funky house with all mod-cons right-bang in the middle of Ubud! For the same price I would have been happy to pay for a nice room. With a housekeeper, Nyomen, who comes in every morning to cook me breakfast and do a little cleaning. I must say, it feels a little bit colonial! This is her in the semi-outdoor kitchen:
And this is the sleeping area where I sleep during the night and where during the day sleeps - an absolute bonus - a sweet talkative ginger cat. Home sweet home.
PS: 'Lonely housekeeper' turned out to be a eufemism for 'been left uncertain about steady source of income while employer temporarily relocated'. The rent I am paying now provides for a little income again. Talk about colonial...?
posted by Caroline @ 3:36 pm
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