It was the best of times. It was the worst of times. Well, that may be overstating it just a little, but like all good dichotomies – yin and yang, good and evil, East Coast rap and West Coast rap – today was a day of juxtapositions (and big words it seems). It started off much as yesterday ended, comfortably laid out on the deck of the White Dolphin without a soul around to ruin the moment.

Our crew has grown by one, as late in the evening a small group of staff from a nearby boat came on board for some drinks, leaving behind a young lady when they returned. We speculate that she is the girlfriend of one of the crew on our boat dropping in for a little late night bible reading, but we never find out for sure. Nevertheless, she is still with us when I wake up and has put together a table full of overpriced souvenirs, anxiously awaiting my trusty sidekick (who, to her credit, doesn’t buy a single thing). A short time later, another boat from the same company rafts onto ours, and just like that, our new crew member is gone.

In the exchange, we do get one of our burning questions answered, as the family on the second boat is from Australia, and, as it turns out, they have been talking about their next vacation being to Mexico. Go figure. The rest of the morning we spend slowly cruising back to port, enjoying the solitude and adding yet more pictures to our collection (I think we have taken more photos in the last two days that we did in the preceding two weeks), including Ang’s best impression of Kate Winslet.

We finish our boat trip with a nice lunch (fresh seafood for the most part, which is great for me, not so good for Ang) before dropping anchor back at port.

Fast forward 30 minutes, and we find ourselves crammed back into the minibus for the return drive to Hanoi, this time so full the luggage is wedged in every open pocket to get it all in. Our flight to Hue leaves a 5:45, so we have quickly shifted from a state of total relaxation, to one of anxiety, wondering if we will make it to the airport on time. Assuming we don’t go any slower than we did on the inbound trip, we will be cutting it close, but should make it. That knowledge does little to keep me from wanting to grab the wheel every time the driver falls in behind a dump truck going 30 km/h.

The drive itself is pretty uninspiring. Once out of the big cities, I expected to see lush countryside, with acres of rice paddies, like we have in Thailand and Indonesia. At least between Hanoi and Halong Bay though, it is mostly just a series of buildings, fairly equally split between residential, commercial and industrial. They hug the road, rarely more than a few layers deep, rather than clustered together in villages and towns. It’s interesting to see the style of construction, but all in all, it makes for a pretty dull landscape, adding to the monotony of the trip.

The good news is that we do make better time, and a little under four hours later, we are scrambling to unload our bags from the bus and into a cab for the drive to the airport. As we get to the outskirts of Hanoi, we finally start to breathe a bit easier, comfortable that we’ll make our flight to Hue and the next stop on our journey (and since talking about it here would be three cities, ruining my clever title, I will leave it until tomorrow).

The wake up call comes pretty early this morning, so much so that I contemplate ordering a coffee at breakfast (and I never drink coffee). While this is mostly because I am having trouble keeping my eyelids open, I have also read that the Vietnamese make a mean coffee. I manage to make it through without though, and am even on time for our bus pick up. Unable to think of many things better than being in a van full of people I don’t know, I am looking forward to the next four and a half hours.

It is the slow season right now at Halong Bay, but even so, the harbor is full of boats, all built to look like Chinese junks. We know that none of the people we rode up with are on our boat, but we are very surprised when we board to find out that we are the only passengers. In seems the travel gods are one again out to spite me, as this will only make it more difficult in the future to get Ang on a regular boat.

The White Dolphin is about 80 feet long, with a crew of 5. They say that the boat is new, but in practice I think that just means some new cabins built on an old hull. Either way, it is still pretty luxe accommodation for what we paid (about $120 each for two days, four meals, transportation, and entry to the two islands we will stop off on). The room is air conditioned, with its own bathroom (not that it really matters in retrospect since there is no one else here), hot water shower and two-person jacuzzi tub. It’s as over the top as anything we have experienced (total boondoggle), and its hard not to reflect a bit on just how lucky we are in life.

We have lunch (a five course affair) on the way to our first stop, which is a huge cave carved out of one of the limestone islands that populate the bay (the thousands of small islands are what Halong Bay is famous for and the scenery is unlike anything we have ever seen). The air in the harbor is pretty smoggy, but gets clearer the further we get into the bay. Even so, visibility is never great, and we feel like we are missing some of the experience that you would get on a clear day. We have taken dozens of pictures, knowing that when we get home and look through them we’ll wonder why since they won’t possibly do them justice.

The cave is fairly interesting, in large part because it is so massive. There are all kinds of stalactites and stalagmites, which have been enhanced with the placement of different colored spotlights (it sounds pretty cheesy, but in practice seems to work). The guide points out all kinds of formations they have named for things they resemble like dragons and buddhas, and this adds a bit of extra flavor, but the experience would be just just as impressive without them.

We make a second stop on a nearby island where you can climb to the top for a view that on a clear day would be spectacular. It’s still pretty good today so another dozen or so photos get added to the collection. Afterwards, the boat sets anchor and we swim around a bit in the ocean while the cook prepares dinner (six courses this time, with much of the food bought fresh from the armada of small rowboats circling the bay selling all manner of things).

As night falls, the sea gets very calm and we can see the lights of all the nearby boats. It is a very relaxing setting, and its hard not to just melt into a deck chair and watch the world go by.

Our last day in Hanoi and we’re off to a little less than auspicious start. In general, we’ve been quite good about getting out of the hotel room in the morning, but today it just wasn’t meant to be. By the time we talked to the kids, booked some airline tickets to Hue, and got ready, it was quickly creeping up on 11 o’clock. We argue a bit with the front desk since we have prepaid for breakfast, but they close the restaurant at 10:30 to change over for lunch and say they can’t cook us anything. By the time we give up and grab a cab, it is close to 11:30.

By starting late, we skip seeing Ho Chi Minh, as you have to be there by ten to get in. Since we also missed Mao Tse Tung in China, we are quickly running out of waxy, dead people to look at. Lenin is another possibility I suppose, but no plans to travel to Russia any time soon.

Instead we head back to the Old Quarter to look at a few of the paintings we saw yesterday. We’ve narrowed the list of favorites to just 3 or 4, but unfortunately, they are at three different galleries, so hard to compare. We also stop to buy a couple of knock-off backpacks (either that, or North Face is having a really big sale in Vietnam), for some unknown reason choosing to do this early in the day instead of on the way back to the hotel, ensuring that for the rest of the afternoon I have to walk around with a big empty pack on my back.

The other big mission for the day is to book our trip to Halong Bay and figure out how were going to get to Saigon in time for our return flight. There are literally dozens of travel agencies, and each seems to have its own mix of boats they represent, making it difficult to determine which is the right choice. This process we drag out until after 8 in the evening, finally settling on a 2 day, 1 night trip on what they call a 4 star boat (I let Ang flip a coin between that and a cheaper 3 star boat, and while she denies it, the “toss” looked more like a flop, with the outcome somewhat predetermined). In practice though, it actually works out better, as we get back to Hanoi a little bit earlier and are already cutting it very close for our flight to Hue.

We also have the same agent book some tickets from Da Nang to Saigon, as we are a little nervous that if we wait any longer, we won’t be able to get any at all. Unfortunately, the only ones we can get are on the night of the 1st, so it turns out we will be spending a few days in Saigon, where the original plan was just to fly in the same day our flight left to Vancouver. It also means a little less time than we hoped for in Hoi An, but I think there will still be enough to see what we wanted to see (albeit in a bit more rushed fashion).

With all the planning out of the way, we resign ourselves to the fact that it’s too late to really see the French Quarter, so skip that and head back to the last gallery to buy our picture. That mission accomplished, our day is pretty much complete, so we grab a couple of gyro/french bread sandwiches and head back to the hotel. Our bus to Halong Bay is picking us up at 7:45 in the morning, so definitely no sleeping in tomorrow.

For us, Hanoi is like a splash of very cold water in the face. The time in Bali/Lombok was so laid back that we kind of slipped into a bit of lazy island lifestyle. This is MUCH different. The city is hectic, noisy, and constantly on the move.

Because we only have two days here, I am anxious to get out the door fairly early, much to Ang’s chagrin. She is a good sport today though, so we actually headed out at a pretty reasonable hour, with the goal of stopping at the gallery our hotel told us about, and then just wandering around the Old Quarter of the city.

The Old Quarter is the original heart of Hanoi, dating back over 1,000 years, and is still the center of activity for shops, markets, and restaurants. The layout has no rhyme nor reason, so we spend most of the morning weaving around the warren of streets, getting lost once or twice, but not too far off the beaten path, and I find that whenever I stop for a beer at a sidewalk cafe, it does wonders for my map reading skills.

The other challenge that took a little getting used to is simply crossing the street. There are very few traffic lights here and traffic itself is a constantly flowing mass of motorbikes and cyclos (bicycles with a seat in front of the tire that serve as short distance taxis), so waiting for a clear spot to cross is basically pointless. Instead, we learn from watching the locals that the trick is too just start walking, and as long as you keep a consistent pace, the drivers will adjust and part around you like the Red Sea.

In between shops and galleries, we sample a wide range of different street foods. Some we recognize, like Pho, spring rolls and doughnuts, but a whole lot we don’t. Fortunately, even the strange looking ones don’t taste that bad, and by the end of the day we’re still going strong, so nothing seemed to make us sick. There is a local beer we have read about that sells for about 15 cents a glass (it is unpasteurized and only lasts a day so they price it low to make sure it sells out) that seems like it would make a good pairing for a skewer of unknown meat, but so far I haven’t found a good place to try it yet.

Towards dinner the heat and noise are starting to wear down my trusty sidekick, who is looking for the first opportunity to get back to the solitude of the Sheraton. As I wanted to see the night market before calling it a day, I bribe her with promise of a foot massage. This turns out to be easier said than done, as unlike Thailand or Indonesia, finding a massage place actually proves very difficult. We finally find a hotel that advertises a spa on the second floor, so pop in there and settle in for some pampering.

What we end up with is easily the world’s worst massage. The two ladies show up in very short skirts, and while this doesn’t really bother me, we start to wonder if this might be one of those other kinds of massage parlors. Our suspicions are only heightened when a foot massage really turns out to be a “dealer’s choice”, with some rubbing of the feet, a lot of work on the knee, a bit of arm and hand, and finally some face for good measure. It seems that when we didn’t start the session asking for the “specy specy” menu, they didn’t really know what to do, so ended up throwing together whatever came to mind and running out the clock.

By the end of the hour, my “masseuse” is behind me in the chair with my head laid back against her chest, rubbing my head and shoulders. I struggle to remember the last time I was in a similar position, but figure it must have been somewhere like Las Vegas, and probably cost a whole lot more than $7. As strange as it seems, my description here only scratches the surface, so for anyone interested, feel free to ask about the Frank Costanza, the dry rub, or the Chinese noodle when we get back.

Back out on the street, and desperately digging through our bag for the Purell, we find the night market open and wander a bit through the stalls. We also find a few new foods to try, including a great sandwich they make with a small loaf of french bread and gyro meat. At about 70 cents each, they prove to be one of our favorite finds.

By 10pm, we are pretty beat, so finally call it a day and jump in a cab back to the hotel. Tomorrow we have no specific plans, but have talked about stopping into see the preserved body of Ho Chi Minh and visiting the French Quarter. We also need to make some travel plans for Halong Bay and also flights to Da Nang and Saigon. We have come to learn that next Friday is the start of a very big national holiday, so most flights are already booked. Since we fly out of Saigon, its not really optional that we get there, meaning the only question is whether we can scrounge up a flight or get stuck with 30 hours on the chicken bus.

Adventure often comes in the most unexpected places. For the most part, we figured today would be pretty mild as our flight from Lombok leaves at 9 am, and with a few transfers in between, we don’t get to Hanoi until after 8 pm. But boy, were we in for a treat.

Now Indonesia isn’t widely known for the quality of its air service. If fact, I think the general consensus is that its downright suspect. So much so, that in an attempt to try and add some level of safety, the government recently announced it was shutting down all airlines with less than 5 airplanes, presumably because if you have that many planes, you probably can afford to keep a mechanic on staff. Given all that, we weren’t exactly expecting a plane fresh off the line at Boeing.

What we didn’t expect was the dilapidated POS that we boarded for the short flight back to Bali. Over the years I’ve been in some pretty beat up planes, but nowhere have I seen as much duct tape on display as this one. It looked like they took all the pieces they could recover from the last two planes they crashed, and taped them back together into one working model. As we lifted off, I found myself praying that an Indonesian Sully was on the other side of the cockpit door.

The concern was for naught though, as twenty minutes later, we made three quick right turns (I think the rudder only went one direction, so that was the next best thing to turning left) and set down softly on the runway. We did get a little nervous that someone forgot to tape the cargo door shut as it took an unusually long time for our luggage to appear, but eventually it made its way out and we headed off to the international terminal for our next leg to Singapore. From here on, its all legitimate airlines, so other than the usual airport hassles, its smooth sailing to Hanoi.

We finally arrive just after 8:30 (it is one hour earlier here than Bali), clear immigration and grab a cab to, you guessed it, the Sheraton. The cab driver seems to know only two phrases in english, “fifteen dollars” and “Michael Schumacher”. True to his word, we weave through traffic, flashing the high beams and honking the horn at anyone foolish enough to get in our way.

Checking in, we notice, hanging behind the counter, a picture by an artist we had seen a few years back in a Bangkok gallery, but didn’t buy at the time. They gave us the name and address of the gallery here that has them, so that’s something early on our agenda for tomorrow. Just a couple days in Hanoi and plenty to see, so no rest for the weary.

Imagine yourself on a sandy beach, lined with palm trees and gentle surf. What would you think if the people who lived there told you that if you wanted a real beach vacation, you were in the wrong place? Too much time in the sun perhaps? Well, that’s what we’ve been told here, with the place that is always recommended being the Gilis, a set of three small islands a little to the northwest of here. Having come all this way, we’re intrigued enough to have to see it for ourselves.

We catch our boat right out front of the hotel. In all our travel, I would have sworn Ang had experienced some ocean travel in a rickety fishing boat, but she tells me today is the first time, so props to her for being a trooper (I think there were only lifejackets enough for me and the skipper, but I didn’t have the heart to tell her that).

Our first stop is Gili Trawangan, which of the three has a reputation as the “party island”. What we find is a beautiful white sand beach fronting a one street town on an island where cars and motorbikes are prohibited (not exactly Mykonos). Aside from the boats that get you there, the only methods of transport are carts pulled by half-size horses and bicycles, which makes for a very peaceful setting.

After a quick walk through the town, and a little due diligence into hotels should we ever come back, we spend an hour or so snorkeling over the reef. We don’t have any diving in the plans for this trip, so this is as close as we’ll get, and all in all, it isn’t that bad. Nothing big like turtles or rays, but the coral is in good shape and there are plenty of fish. It made me think of Nick and how much he enjoyed sleeping under the dome at the aquarium.

Jumping back in the boat, we take a 10 minute trip over to Gili Meno, the most mellow of the three islands. Just when we’re wondering how you get more mellow than an island populated with horse carts, we step off the boat and into a total Robinson Crusoe experience. Where Gili Trawangan has a street with some shops, Gili Meno has none of that. If you look hard, you can find a bit of a cart trail (this may be the literal one horse town, as I never did see more one), but for the most part, it is nothing more than the odd hut masquerading as a hotel and restaurant.

If you’re ever looking for a place to completely check out, this is it. As relaxed as I figured I was yesterday, I had to shift down and find a new gear for this. Stretched out in the bale (an Indonesian gazebo of sorts) watching the waves and listening to the reggae mix on the bar stereo, I quickly find myself just a few degrees north of comatose. I overhear a waiter say the cost of a room is 100,000 rupiah (about 9 dollars) and can’t help but do the math in my head for how long I could stay here and do nothing until the money runs out.

We do some snorkeling here as well, and then back in the boat for the return trip to the hotel. It turns out that its Ang’s turn for some lobster skin today, so as least we both look ridiculous now.

Tonight is our last night in Indonesia, as tomorrow is pretty much a full day of travel to our next stop in Vietnam. We have had an absolutely wonderful time here, and will take away many great memories (with the falling tiles in the Diggler Room right near the top). We knew early on that our plan to see three countries was too ambitious, and as we get ready to leave Bali/Lombok, we would probably say now that even two was too many. After all, we’ve only seen two of the countless islands in Indonesia, and only part of each at that.

Total veg day today. I was tempted to skip the post altogether, but figured that kind of behavior could quickly become a habit. So even though I’m a little thin on material, I’ll try and keep it interesting.

With nothing on the itinerary, we made the most of the day by going our separate ways, giving Ang the golden opportunity she has been waiting for to browse endlessly through the warren of knick-knack and souvenir shops. I stuck to the lounger on the beach and managed to work my way through a novel that had been taking up space in our luggage since Seattle.

Coming from a place that rarely gets sun, I learn the hard way about reflection, and despite keeping religiously under the umbrella, by the time Ang returns a few hours later, I have managed to work up a little lobster skin. Fortunately, it is more on the medium side than well done, so I think I will avoid molting.

Our Internet was good today for a change, so we were able to talk to the boys with the video working, and it was great to see their faces. They all have stories about the fun things they are doing with their grandparents and friends, so we know they are in goods hands. Tomorrow is a the big switch for them, with Granny and Grandpa headed back to Sidney, and Grandpa J and Grandma Katie moving in. The transition is good I think, since its hard for one set to spoil them continuously for three weeks, so this way they get full coverage.

The best part of the day comes at 6:30, as that means its time for pancakes. Lacking any better ideas, we call our driver from yesterday and ask him to go all the way to town and pick up 4 of the decadent creations. Even I can’t eat that many in a day, but in Malaysia they made a perfect breakfast even cold, so there is a method to my madness. The driver I’m sure thinks we’re insane, but I believe we told him we were American instead of Canadian, so he’ll probably just chalk it up to the that

A bit of a splurge tonight, as after another glorious $3 dinner from the pickup truck cafe, we struggled through an hour and 45 minute massage at the hotel spa. Ang was in heaven, being right next to the ocean. And while I have to admit it was a pretty good way to spend an evening, I think for the money, I’d take 10 massages of the hotel grounds instead of one on.

More to report tomorrow as we’re taking a boat to the Gili Islands, which apparently are THE place to go for a beach vacation on Lombok.

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.

Pretty mellow day today. It started early enough, catching up on some work from the deck outside our room. Once again the Internet leaves a little to be desired, so some things I hoped to accomplish didn’t come to pass, but I kept myself busy nonetheless watching the grounds crew scurry up and down the 60 foot coconut trees with nothing more than a pair of tennis shoes. I debated whether one might fit in our luggage, as I have plenty of need for such tree climbing skills at the cabin, but remembered that space has mostly been taken up now by beads and other such trinkets.

We were excited to find that the hotel has bikes for the guests, and after breakfast we planned on taking them for a ride into the small town down the street. Unfortunately, of the 6 bikes neatly arranged for use, we could find only one that didn’t have flat tires, and with no staff around to help, we abandoned the idea and decided to just walk the half mile or so.

No sooner had we hit the street, than the touts appeared, offering everything from car and boat transportation, to watches, to bookmarks. For the most part, I find if you just say no and keep walking, they quickly tire and leave you alone (or at least turn you over to the next set of touts down the street). Ang, on the other hand, feels bad ignoring them, so has opted for the “maybe later” approach. Surprisingly, they take this an indicator that there is potential for a sale, and soon we are leading a small parade of merchants that refuse to leave our sides for fear one of their competitors might sneak in. I soon feel like poor Sam in Green Eggs and Ham…

Not on the beach
Not on the street
I don’t need flip flops for my feet
I will not buy them here or there
I will not buy them anywhere
Not by the bank
Not by the tree
Please sir, please just let me be

On an up note, while ducking into stores in hopes some other unlucky tourist would draw the attention of our entourage, we found some artworks that we liked. The artist is part owner of the shop and we made arrangements for him to come in and talk with us about his work tomorrow evening. There are a few pieces that we like, so hopefully that will give us some more perspective on which one to go with. We also just like the opportunity to meet the creator when we have the chance as it gives the work more of a story.

We picked up a few snacks for the room fridge and the obligatory Cup o’ Noodles (which actually tastes good here) at the local grocery store. 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).

Tomorrow we have booked a driver to take us around the island and to a few of the local villages. $35 for nine hours of air conditioned comfort and not having to be with a tour group seems like money well spent.

Off to a new location today, so up at the crack of 8 for some breakfast, and then we’re off. Now I wouldn’t exactly saw that 8 is an unusual time to start the day, particularly for my trusty sidekick, but this morning, even that time came early. About 2 in the morning, we awoke to some load cracking noises. Figuring something had found its way into our room, we switched on the lights to find the offender, only to find a completely empty room.

No sooner had I switched off the lights and secured myself back under the covers, than we heard the same noise again. Back out of bed, lights back on, but still no guilty looking monkey peering back from the corner to explain the commotion.

One more time we hear the noise, but having left a light on, are able to look up in time so see a tile peeling away from the pillar next to the bed and crashing down about two feet from Ang’s head. Falling asleep proved a little difficult after that, and by the time the adrenalin cleared the system, a good couple hours of prime sleeping time had passed.

Nevertheless, we already have reservations at the next hotel, so groggy or not, we’re committed to moving on. After calling around a bit to consider the options, we find our choices limited to a local ferry (5-8 hours to cross on a sketchy boat) or a 25 minute flight (probably on a sketchy plane, so that part may be a wash). Suffice to say we were quickly on the road to the airport, about an hour and a half away.

The flight itself turned out to be be relatively painless. The only real negative was that deoderant isn’t common amongst the locals, so when you cram 80 of them into a long metal tube and apply heat, it provides a bot of a wake up call for the senses. Fortunately, we had barely left the ground when the announcement came that we were landing in Lombok.

Now for those not familiar (as we certainly weren’t before we planned this trip), Lombok is a sister island to Bali, although far less known, and subsequently less travelled. Before the bombings in Bali, Lombok was starting to come into its own, positioned as being like Bali before the tourists took over. And while very small parts of the island have recovered (the Gili Islands, which are just offshore, for example), the main island never has, and the impact has been severe. Based on the number of dark windows at the hotel, I’d be surprised in occupancy was over 40%, despite being on par with anything in Bali and significantly less expensive.

As we arrived fairly late in the day (around 5 o’clock), we didn’t get to see much of what lies beyond the hotel. We did walk down the beach and watched the sunset, but not before the beach merchants sniffed us out for the fresh meat that we were and descended like a horde of locusts, leaving us with a handful of overpriced souvenirs, and a smaller wallet.

The constantly evolving plan is to stay here three nights and then head for Hanoi Tuesday. The next window for that flight is Thursday, which seemed to leave the time in Vietnam a little short. We’re pretty relaxed already here though, so inertia might just keep us here the extra two days.