Travel tale #8: Indonesian wonder

Recounting my holiday to Indonesia

A week ago, I returned from Indonesia, which is the farthest I have travelled purely for adventure. This scared and excited me, especially because I did more than I’d ever done in a single trip. In two weeks, I made my way from Bali to Komodo to Lombok to Gili Air, and back again, taking several flights and boat trips. In some ways, Indonesia reminded me of Nigeria— the way the streets are wide and the buildings have space for cars to drive into; the abundance of motorcycles; the market stalls of enterprising women; the hustle of the people who kept trying to sell us things. And then there was the food— rich in flavour, rich in spice. There was nasi goreng, chicken satay, rendang, ayam taliwang, ayam betutu, gado-gado, pork ribs, sauteed bananas, pandan pancakes, black rice pudding. I interacted with these dishes at local warungs, at upscale restaurants, and even in a cooking class. In the class, I made mie goreng, and remembered that Indomie, which I had eaten since my childhood, came from here, half a world away. There were the tropical fruit that I gorged on— the favourites made from mango, pineapple, lychee, guava. And other fruit I tried for the first time — snake fruit and dragon fruit. I had enough sense to avoid durian from previous experience!

Bali was what I had heard it would be. The abundance of nature, spilling over everywhere, so that I saw more monkeys in my Ubud hotel grounds than in Monkey forest! I beheld the neatly manicured rows of the rice terraces; I went under waterfalls and into caves on an ATV; I witnessed sunrise from the top of Mount Batur, looking over an expanse that I had climbed for three hours, through struggled breathing, to see. There was the intricate beauty of art, to be found everywhere, in ARMA museum and artists’ studios I visited, and on the walls of the many temples, because this was a country of community— where people worshipped together. This was a country where, as an artist told me, they were raised to be creative. It was natural to make things here —talent was not used as an excuse for exclusion. And I saw this, as we were moved through many spaces for creation— the batik, the wood, the silver, the songket. There was the focus on wellness— with the yoga classes and the massages and the many foreigners who came here to find peace, some of whom stayed, making it into their home. And here, it was clear that I was a tourist —There were many of us being herded from Kelingking beach to Diamond beach; putting on the long satin dresses for the jungle swing (not me!); watching the intense chanting of the Kecak dance. This was a place that was used to welcoming people. I saw this in the many western brands that lined Seminyak— the Birkenstock, the Crocs, the Rip Curl, the Billabong— brands that appealed to a certain kind of person that comes here.

For many, Bali is the end, but it wasn’t for me. I went to Komodo next, an island that took my breath away, that made me feel small. The dazzling, clear, blue-green of the water and of the sky. I saw many Komodo dragons in the National Park, aware of the miracle and madness of this, always staying at the fringe of the group for protection! I snorkelled with manta rays, learning that this too was a miracle. I explored coral reefs, watching the many colourful fish that swam out from the hidden corners. I went to a beach where turquoise blue water lapped against pink sand. And I felt so privileged to witness this kind of beauty. To witness the view from the top of Padar Island, with its curved hills that cradle calm waters. To witness the sunsets too, which shook me— the soft brush strokes of orange and pink blended into the fading blue skies.

I wish I had seen more of Lombok— I saw that where Bali had temples, Lombok had mosques. Many of them, each beautiful and set apart in its own colours. I noted again that this was a country of worship, of community. Where there were so many ways to be reminded of all that is greater than the individual. I went to the Sukarara weaving village. Here, the weaving of songket is passed down from the women across generations. Here, the women spend seven hours a day sitting down with the loom over their legs, passing thread across planks of wood, forming beautiful, unique patterns which remind me once again that creativity is for everyone. Here, the women made a group to market this fabric and share the proceeds.

Gili Air was a place of rest. An island where the only ways to get around were by cycling or by horse carts reminiscent of Saint Louis in Senegal. And so, I cycled. Here, I enjoyed sunsets over cocktails, a different kind of sunset than in Komodo, more intimate as I was closer to the shore, walking down the beach at low tide, seeing how the soft colours reflected over the water. Here I snorkelled again, finding sea turtle, finding beautiful coral, finding many fish.

The places I visited forced me to move constantly to experience them— cycling, snorkelling, surfing, hiking, paddle boarding, swimming. I was more aware of my body here— of the muscles that I hadn’t used, of my breathing which got heavy as I climbed mountains, of the pain in my limbs from surfing, of trying to catch my breath after freediving. I had no choice but to respond to the industry, the movement, around me. People fishing, people farming, people climbing the same mountain peaks every day to escort tourists; people swimming across entire bodies of water, not having the luxury to call this exercise — simply doing what was normal, what was needed. I also noticed people flying kites — a slower activity— I wish I stopped and asked what those delicate shapes in the sky meant. I slowed down in other ways. Here, I did yoga classes at sunrise. I had massages almost on each island I visited. I tried to be kinder to myself too. To think about God’s love for me, and what my love for myself should look like. To think about relationships I treasure. To slow down and not always be so focussed on my plans and my fears.

This country left me satisfied, like at the end of a long, luxurious meal in a place I will return to. There is so much that is left to see and try, and so much that I want to experience again.

Prompt:

What adventure most recently left you satisfied? Write about it and share it with me (by sending it on instagram, or replying by email if you’re a subscriber). I would love to discuss it with you! I would also post it on the Instagram page if you’d like me to.