It's been a long journey...
Just hours after descending the mountain, and a full eleven hours after waking up (!) we'd packed our bags, said our goodbyes to Made, and clambered into Guntur's van for the short drive to Padangbai, the port where we were to catch a slow boat to the Gili Islands. All going well, we'd be sipping cocktails on the beach by 7pm. "All going well." Loaded phrase that. Using it seems to alert the god of bad karma to your situation, and he spends the next few hours working out how he can best screw you over. Of course, we arrived in Padangbai to discover that the Perama boat was cancelled for the next two days due to "technical difficulties". Options are limited between Bali and the Gilis, so I was slightly worried reporting back to the others. My panic was exacerbated by the loud and obnoxious man shouting at me that he had a cheap option for us, Rp250,000 only, no, Rp 200,000, special price for you, really really! We tried to discuss it amongst ourselves but he kept thrusting his head in the car windows and shouting. His deal sounded excellent and he promised to have us in Gilis by sundown - and no other company could promise that without the use of one of the very expensive fast boats. Of course, this promise is what made me doubt him - I'm African, I've learnt that nothing is that easy, and if it sounds too good to be true, it probably is. We asked Guntur for his advice, but he was typically Indonesian, just as he had been during other situations in our time here. Despite being scrupulously honest himself, he couldn't bring himself to interfere in another Indonesian's chance to rip us off. He, in his careful manner, simply told us it should be fine, and we, trusting Guntur, agreed with the obnoxious man on Rp200,000 each. It was only then, round the back of the car, that Guntur quietly told me to take good care of the ticket I'd been given and not to relinquish it to anyone until we were safely on the second boat to the islands (the laborious route we'd bought involved a public ferry to Lembar on Lombok, a private bus to Bangsal in the northwest, then a private boat to Gili Meno.) The public ferry was due to leave in 10 minutes; I looked up from my talk with Guntur to see four young men with Obnoxious Man grabbing our bags from the car and setting off at a fast pace toward the port, so I quickly said goodbye and thanks, and raced after them, dodging traffic and pushing our way past the ticket collectors onto the ramp.
On the passenger level we managed to find a narrow bench to dump our bags onto, then suddenly, Obnoxious Man's Obnoxious Youths started clamouring "$5 each bag!" while O.M leant in to me and said "You pay porter now." We refused to pay so much for a 2-minute walk that hadn't been agreed upon, and suddenly things turned nasty. Everyone was shouting, I was offering a more than reasonable amount and a guy snatched it from me. One of them even tried to appeal to Liam - "Talk to your women! They're being mean!" Leigh and I yelled that there was no further discussion, we were not paying that much, everyone on the boat was staring and I really thought we were in serious trouble. Then I turned to O.M., held out the ticket and snapped "Give us our money back, we're getting off this ferry." And he turned on his heel, lifted his hands, and walked off the boat. As if he'd been the head honcho and had just said "You're on your own, guys", the porters' protestations instantly became half-hearted and then melted away altogether in the face of such stony resistance from Leigh and I, and they slunk off. We collapsed onto our bench, shaking with anger and fear, and opened up Robyn's chocolate, in need of some sugar.
Our first introduction to an Indonesian ferry, ladies and gents, and the first time on our trip that the island's hospitality had failed. It was dismal. I had assumed the men were hired by O.M. and that we'd have to do no more than tip them a reasonable amount, but they assumed we were rich Westerners, they got greedy, and I hate greedy people...
Our minds and mouths started working and we decided we'd just been duped out of $100 for ferry tickets that would have cost us $3.50 each had we bought them on our own. We'd just been so worried and O.M. had been so insistent, and it all happened so fast. We put it down to a learning experience.
We had ringside seats facing out over the water. At our backs was an indoor section with two large decks on which entire families were settling down to sleep. Towards the front there was a small kiosk. We didn't have much time to take it in: the moment the men left, we were besieged by women who wanted to sell us cigarettes, fruit and dried banana chips. A woman who could have doubled for a typical African mama won the war and we bargained with her for some chips and cigarettes to see us through the journey. O.M. had told us we'd be in the Gilis in 5 hours, but I knew the ferry to Lembar alone would take that. We settled in for the duration.
Sunset was reddening the sea by the time the ferry ambled into Lembar Harbour, and we walked off the ramp amongst the cars and buses in darkness.
Taking out our ticket for a rather dispirited look at the company's name, I was startled by the shout of a young man who was - oh miracle of miracles - holding a bunch of identical tickets, and who confirmed that there was, indeed, a minivan waiting for us! There was a long moment of silence among the group out of pure shock, as well as a bit of guilt for having spent the last 5 hours talking about how we could report O.M. for fraud! Unfortunately, though, we'd arrived too late for the boat to the Gilis so we had to spend a night in Sengiggi, an hour's drive up the coast of Lombok.
On arrival we chose the cheapest hotel we could find, and boy did we get it. The entrance, down a dirty alley, says it all.
We were woken up by the neighbouring mosque's prayer call at 4am, but that was okay. Having to buy our own toilet paper was a bit odd, but never mind. Even sleeping almost on top of each other was bearable. But the filth! We couldn't even walk into the bathroom without shoes on! None of us used our blankets and sheets, but spread out our kikoyis instead - my sheet even had old, dark stains on it... It felt like an ancient, small-town, Zimbabwean motel. We were so pleased to get out of there the following morning, we didn't even wait for breakfast!
It was on the trip to Bangsal Harbour that I realised something. Bali is a Hindu island, but it's an anomaly in the 17,000 islands of the Indonesian archipelago. Lombok is new territory for me, my first visit to an Islamic country, run primarily under Sharia law. There are still small Hindu temples dotted around, but the household temples and roadside shrines of Bali were now replaced by large, unwalled, beautiful mosques, shining white with lovely glass windows set high up, and intricate archways.
Bangsal Harbour wasn't nearly as bad as I'd expected - just a bare waiting room, women selling fruit and vegetables outside, and a long view over the sea.
From Bangsal Harbour we caught a private boat. The three islands were now clearly visible from land, three low-lying drops of land edged in white and turquoise. We couldn't wait to just get out there!
The boat ride was rough, with high waves that drenched us and treated us for free to Alton Towers Theme Ride-type drops. We passed Gili Air (confusingly, "air" means "water" in Bahasa Indonesian).
Gili Meno's "harbour" was really just a strip of beach where our boatman moored the boat to a wooden peg in the sand, and we jumped into the shallow waves to wade ashore. We walked 50m along the beach to find that the beachside huts I'd wanted to stay in were full, but a man offered us two rooms further inland for half the price so we followed him to his plain concrete cottages, staying just long enough to dump our bags. Our journey from Bali had taken 23 hours.
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