My dirty laundry heaps in the corner of my closet, neglected, while clean clothes have somehow spread to every corner of my bed room; all my matching socks are lost. This, combined with my sleep deprivation and overdue bills, can only mean one thing: I've been on a trip.
Indeed, I have just returned from a trip of a lifetime: Indonesia! Specifically, in the last 10 days I visited Bali, Lombok, and Gili Air, collectively the epitome of island paradise. This trip coincided with Lunar New Year, also known as Chinese or Vietnamese New Year. All of Vietnam shuts down for 7 days, and everyone returns to their hometown for this combination of Christmas and frenetic spring cleaning. Family is a huge focus: every day has a specific group of family members to visit, and so (from my coworkers' descriptions) you spend your days hanging out with family, eating, and then moving on to the next family house to visit. Adults gift children lucky money, and presents can be given as well, though much less commonly.
Considering celebrating Lunar New Year? Think again, my dear readers, because these 7 days of family are combined with the most hellish of spring cleaning rituals I have ever heard of. This is cleaning on steroids. Everything - every l i t t l e thing - is taken apart and cleaned, multiple times. All the (already clean) dishes in your cabinet? Gone, out of the cabinet, washed 3 more times while miles of cupboards are scrubbed with a toothbrush. That pile of headless Barbies and unopened kids' science kits stashed in the attic? It's gone, sorted through, the corners of your attic vacuumed into submission. The wine stain you can't get out of your carpet? Yes, you will spend all day spraying chemicals into your carpet until your hands bleed and now you need to clean it again. But worst of all - the nightmare of any Vietnamese child - is the dreaded carved chair. These monsters - pictured below - must be cleaned...with a Q-tip....by hand.....for hours. Of course, children are the only ones with small enough hands and sufficient eyesight for the task. Rumor has it this is, in fact, the only reason these chair-owners have children, though this is currently unsubstantiated.
The dreaded carved family chair
Anyway, Vietnamese New Year was upon us, and while my coworkers happily went home, I went away and made my boyfriend join me! I'm quite happy with this decision: tropical paradise beats sludgy snow any day of the week. While Melkon made the arduous journey from Boston to Bali, I skipped my way over to Lombok, the island right next door. Lombok was only my stopover point for a night - just a place to rest my head until my ferry to Gili Air the next morning - but the adventures started the minute I touched down.
I arrived in Lombok late, determined to find a cheap taxi with an hour and a half ride ahead of me. The taxis, however, found me: I walked out of the terminal and into a screaming crowd of taxi hawkers who scrabbled for my attention. Confused by the sheer number of them, I settled on the one safe-looking prospect: the only woman in the group. She took my money and promptly redirected me to a middle-aged man, which was not really what I intended but got me where I needed to go. My taxi driver refused to use air conditioning - or would have, was I able to communicate with him other than sweating through all my clothes - and I spent the ride fervently wishing I had worn shorts on the plane.
I arrived at my hotel close to midnight and very ready to hit the hay. Sadly, this was not what fate had in store for me. My room was sweaty and the air conditioning no more than a trickle of stale, slightly less humid air; as I lay on my bed bemoaning my luck, I happened to glimpse a worrying trail of ants, marching towards my bed from under the door frame. Now, I like to say I'm not afraid of anything. This is almost true: the one thing that gives me the heeby-jeebies is bugs. I hate bugs. There's so many legs, too many eyes, and the always-terrifying though illogical prospect that they will crawl in my mouth in the middle of the night. I. hate. bugs.
So, I did the rational thing. I shrieked, shot out of bed, and ran towards the front desk begging to move rooms. The front desk told me they were fully booked, handed me a can of Raid and a broom and told me to help myself. I put on my big girl pants and wielded that Raid like Anduril over Sauron. I gleefully swept the still-twitching ants out the door, congratulated myself on my bravery, and headed to the beach. That's when I noticed this.
The invasion
It was the second wave of winged ant soldiers, intent on avenging their fallen comrades. I shrieked even louder and sprinted to the front desk; the man on duty sighed, trudged back with me, and grudgingly agreed to upgrade me to a vacant suite - so much for fully booked. I leapt over the invasion like an Olympic hurdler and found my way to my next room - fully air conditioned, with only a few bugs that were easily conquered by my trusty Raid. All in all, a win for me, though I dreamt of battling life-sized ants all night: not the best beauty rest I've ever had.
My trusty Raid
I woke up to gently lapping waves, idyllic fishing boats, and (later, while walking around) a bunch of creepy men leering at me. Let's start with the pleasant findings.
Beautiful Lombok
Melkon advised I hire someone to kick all men in my path until he arrived. Instead I got on a boat to the tiny island of Gili Air, where thankfully the creepy men were (mostly) absent.
Gili Air is absolutely tiny - 1.5km x 1.5km - with a perimeter that can be walked in an hour and a half. No motorized transport is allowed on the island, which I discovered the hard way when schlepping my overstuffed backpack in 95F heat and 100% humidity a mile up the road. Needless to say, a shower was very necessary upon my arrival to my hostel. Aside from the (lack of) proximity to the port, my hostel was a win in every other way: a mushroom-shaped pool (though confusingly, shrooms are not allowed), math puzzles in the common area, bean bags everywhere, and Saturday outdoor movie nights.
Hostel shroom pool
Ideal in every way, that is, except my most dreaded: bugs. A few minutes after relaxing into my top bunk, I noticed quiet, irregular, almost creaking sounds. I thought nothing of it until I met my roommate, who promptly informed me that the noise was termites EATING THE WALLS.
That's right.....the walls are made of bamboo, and bugs surrounded me, eating the walls. Could it get any worse? Oh yes, it could - I searched my bed thoroughly and found small black insects, apparently fallen from their dining perches. Then, my first night in, the girl in the top bunk opposite me looked up to find an enormous cockroach poised to jump in hair. This led to mass pandemonium in the hostel as we three screamed our heads off and ran outside. The hostel staff managed to catch the wretched creature, but not before mentioning it had gotten in "through the cracks in the wall," which led us to tape up every inch of the ceiling before attempting, unsuccessfully, to sleep. The next morning our hostel replaced all bamboo with "termite proof" bamboo; I still heard little chitterings all night, but it was a nice gesture nonetheless.
Our taped, bug-eaten bamboo walls
I spent my first afternoon on the island biking around the perimeter and acquainting myself with the layout, and desperately trying to adjust to the heat and humidity. I didn't expect this much of an issue coming from Vietnam, but o how I overestimated my heat resistance. Nonetheless I immensely enjoyed my bike ride, stopping a few times to dip my toes in the sea and trade my sweat-salt for ocean salt. I leisured forward, imagining myself as some graceful leggy blonde beach-biking in a cutesy romantic movie scene, and promptly fell over. I had reached the sand pit. Three-quarters of the island is idyllic bike conditions; the last quarter is straight-up quicksand that required me to push my bike, sweating profusely in a profoundly un-movie-star-like manner, past local restaurant owners giggling at my misery.
While this was not my most glamorous of moments, I still ended up with a plethora of lovely island and sunset pictures.
Nice bike paths - quicksand bike paths
Island views - local "taxi" - Melkon, watch out!
Happy cow - tree-goats, a new subspecies
Sunset season
I spent my last full day in Gili acquiring a new skill: scuba diving! I joined a group of 3 who all were certified scuba divers - intimidating, no? - and settled in to learn how to be a fish. I must admit to my initial nervousness, but it was surprisingly intuitive. I more than earned my mother's moniker for us children in the summertime - "water rats" - and scuba diving sealed the deal. Drifting through the water, neither floating nor sinking, a hands-breadth away from turtles and fish and coral: it's magical. One short dive later, and I was determined to continue the practice in Bali, so I forced - ahem, convinced - Melkon to sign up for diving the next week in Bali.
For my final hour in Gili, I sat on the beach to have a pensive moment. Five minutes into this venture, the garbage men rounded the corner and dropped off the island garbage on the beach, which would soon be dumped into the ocean right in front of me. Hello, environmental issues... (and yes, infrastructure issues too, I know it's complicated). I soon boarded a ferry from Gili Air to Bali, decided to sit on the top level of the ferry boat. I threw caution to the wind and only put on sunscreen twice, and thus got severely sunburned on that ride. I'm now paying the price with blistered and peeling stomach - but my calves are tan for once in my life, so maybe it's worth it??
Where the Gili trash goes - sunburn city
I then arrived to Bali for a joyous reunion with my sweetheart Melkon :) I'll write another post about Bali, but suffice for present to say it was a wonderful time, and a sweet reminder of what I'm missing at home.
:-)
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