The Other Kuta
Today we headed out to explore the island. The plan was to be out the door by 8 o’clock, so as to get as much accomplished as we could before the heat became too oppressive. However, we were finally able to talk to the kids (a slow Internet here has kept the video chat from working) when they called us at the hotel, so by the time we said goodbye, it was much closer to 8:30.
The itinerary is to visit a few of the villages that specialize in the native crafts (villages there tend to only work on one particular craft, so in our case we will visit a pottery village and a weaving village). Our driver speaks quite good English, and on the way tells us a lot of interesting things about Lombok’s history and culture. He tells us about how the women work all day in the fields and such, while the men mostly sit together and chat. I tell him we have much the same thing back home, but reversed. Perhaps its because we’re in the Northern Hemisphere and everything is backwards, kind of like the toilets flushing counterclockwise.
As might be expected, the villages are quite poor, but the people seem happy, and genuinely welcome tourists and their cameras. In the weaving village, we actually had a guide walk us around and show us how the whole village was preparing for a wedding ceremony. We saw the women preparing to cook a giant pot of coconut rice, and the guide even offered us some of the freshly ground coconut from his sweaty fingers. Unable to think of any polite way to decline, we take a taste and say a silent prayer that we still have some antibiotics back at the hotel.
Walking around the hut where all this preparation is taking place, our next stop is where the five sweaty men
are actually preparing the coconut by kneading it with their bare hands to remove the outer skin and break it into smaller pieces. On the off-chance anyone from Sukara village reads this, you may want to think about reversing the order of the tour. Nevertheless, we find a fabric we are reasonably pleased with and are soon headed off with a reminder of our visit to the village (I suspect we’ll have another reminder tonight, but the fabric will last longer).
Our last scheduled stop is the town of Kuta, which bears no resemblance whatsoever to its counterpart on Bali. The Kuta on Lombok sits on a long, white sand beach, which currently is almost completely barren of any development (the only hotel of consequence is a Novotel). During the few hours we spend here, I think we could count the number of people we see on a single hand. It feels totally remote and completely undisturbed. Apparently there are plans for a number of new developments, like Hilton and Ritz-Carlton, as Kuta is quite close to where the new airport is being built, so sadly, in the not too distant future this beach will look like so many others in Bali.
Despite all we saw today, the best part by far has to be the discovery of a street cart selling the pancakes we have longed for since our trip to Malaysia. We haven’t seen them since the market where we first had them in Borneo, but once we described them to the driver, he took us right to the spot. Unfortunately, the spot is about 20 minutes from our hotel, which presents a bit of a problem for future days that I haven’t quite figured out yet (but be sure that I will).
Once back at the hotel, we head over to the gallery we found yesterday to meet with the artist whose works we liked. We also met the co-owner of the shop, who it turns out we had met at an ATM in Ubud just a few days ago. We bought one painting and a set of small wooden carvings, doing some significant damage to the budget. We made as much of it up as we could though by stopping for dinner being served from the back of a pickup truck. The total for two entrees and two drinks – $2.75. Another week of that, and we’ll be back in the chips.
We also found the perfect gift for Joey there, which was totally unexpected. From there, it was back through the horde of vendors to the hotel for some chill time at the pool (which has the coolest statue head with a waterslide coming out the mouth that makes us miss the boys terribly).
who set out to build a place where he could bring different cultures together and introduce them to the local village people. At one point, over 80% of the villagers worked on the site, constructing buildings and managing the groups that came to visit for seminars, festivals, and the like.
Some pictures may help, but these can only provide a taste. Looking around, there doesn’t seem to be a surface that isn’t covered with broken or mirrored tiles, all with no discernible pattern. Each room has a theme, like an Asian version of the Fantasyland Hotel in Edmonton. We started off in the Chinese Room, but they decided to move us to the India Room so we wouldn’t have to hear the construction by the pool (I’m guessing they got a good deal on another load of broken tile, so are clearing a new surface to put it).
Because of all the mirrored tile, I’ve come to affectionately call it the Dirk Diggler room, although that probably applies equally to any of the rooms here. Ang, on the other hand, hasn’t quite made the transition from Starwood mode, but I’m sure with time the Diggler Room will win her over.
No matter how many times we see one of these “made for tourists” events and swear we don’t see one again, we always sign up for another everywhere we go. This one consisted of 100 chanting Balinese men grouped around a fire where a handful of very elaborately dressed dancers acted out a story of some sort. It actually made for an interesting 30 minutes, which would have been perfect had the show not been an hour and a half.