Medana Bay Marina
Rinjani's craggy northern face gentled as we rounded the island and headed down its western coast. Our destination was a "marina" in a "Bay", neither of which showed up by name on our charts. This was a waypoint provided by the Sail Indonesia Rally as a location where a rally event will be held in a few weeks, but the waypoint was offshore, and if a few other boats hadn't preceded us, we wouldn't have had a clue where to go in.
Fortunately, the British group we'd seen at Bajo Komodo Eco Lodge in Labuan Bajo, Flores, were here ahead, bobbing on some of the moorings the "marina" was providing. All the "quotes" should indicate that Medana Bay Marina is not a traditional marina, as we are used to thinking about them. It is, so far, a nice palapa-type restaurant with a floating dock connected to shore by a rolling ramp. Off the beach are 25 moorings, all a bit close together, but doable even for Quantum Leap. Under construction are what look like they are going to be very nice hotel rooms plus meeting center. Down the beach a bit is another new resort, a rather high end, sleek looking place called The Lombok Lodge. They also call their address "Medana Bay," so I suspect they are willing it into existence.
Lombok is sometimes referred to as "the new Bali." As Bali has become more and more popular and developed, some of that momentum has begun to spill over to its next door neighbor as the itch to combine luxury and being off the beaten track struggle with one another. (If you really want to combine luxury and being off the beaten track,check out www.amanresorts.com, an all-inclusive "ultimate island hideaway" on its own island off Sumbawa in the "if you have to ask the price you can't afford it" category - (Lonely Planet)) But what it means for cruisers is that we can access some of the slightly more first-world services that we we like or need -- from western groceries to laundry to mechanics to Internet.
Island Tour
Yesterday, we got a car and driver and took off on a "half-day tour" which expanded a bit as we went along, trying to squeeze in things we wanted to see with the standard route. Datu, our driver, was an excellent guide with pretty decent English. He took us first to the "Monkey Forest". This is the "high road" south to Mataram, the capital. The high road climbs up into the rainforest where macaque monkeys line the road to watch the traffic go by. It is most amusing to see the monkey families assemble along the guard rail, doing such family business as grooming, nursing and cuddling babies etc, all while keeping an eagle eye on the cars passing by. (Sadly at this juncture, I thought I'd failed to put my camera in my tote, so no cute monkey pictures.)
From the forest we descended into the increasingly bustling urban neighborhood of Mataram. The traffic, which had been pleasantly rural on surprisingly decent (if narrow) two lane roads, began to take on some of the hysterical characteristics of Kupang, i.e. lots of motorbikes attempting to share the lane. Into this mix to my amazement were added pony carriages which Datu explained carry folks home form the markets with their purchases!
Datu was keen to take us on the circuit of craft village stops. First up was the "furniture village." On the sides of the roads were shops selling chests, benches, etageres etc. He pulled into the Ratna Artshop which was delightfully filled with carved bowls, trays, boxes, chests, etc. , then painted and or inlaid with mother of pearl. There were also woven baskets and mats, even some iron items. Our function, of course, was not just to look, but to buy. Everything must be bargained for, and of course the best bargains come when you are ambivalently interested to start with. It wasn't that one didn't want these things. Hell I could have filled the car! But how ever would we get purchases home?!?!?! Nevertheless, we did not leave empty handed.
The same is true of the second stop, a weaving village where they make the traditional songkat, which differs from ikat by resulting in a different look to each side of the fabric.
The weaving village was a much poorer seeming neighborhood, but we were scooped up promptly after parking in front of a "women's cooperative" by a thirty-year old young woman who had her spiel down pat. She guided us to a compound of huts in which various women of different ages (including a 12-year-old) were industriously at work.
At the first hut, the deal was to get the visitors into the spirit by getting us to take the weavers place. I acquiesced because she would have been crushed otherwise, and let myself be strapped into the loom where someone half my size had been. I did not demonstrate any natural aptitude for weaving. There were probably two dozen bamboo rods controlling the pattern, a process I could only begin to grasp. They guided me through a half dozen passes of the colored threads and the proper "tap, tap" each then required, without my ruining anything obvious.
A girl begins to learn weaving at age ten, (putting in her time after school and before homework (whilst the boys play!) Her mother teaches her the traditional patterns, starting out simple. Each traditional pattern has meaning, as do all the colors, yet, our guide insisted, each weaving is the result of the weaver's own imagination. After my hands-on opportunity, our guide showed us several more levels where the pattern gets increasingly complex, after which we of course end up in the store where the young ladies have gotten quite polished in the art of sales AND are armed with a credit card machine! Hah! As I've said before, Bette Lee is somewhat knowledgeable in all this. I, on the other hand, was fairly well overwhelmed by all the color combinations, patterns, not to mention applications. It was fairly clear that I wasn't getting out without buying something, but did I want something to cover my shoulders, cover my table or hang from a wall! Yikes!
We had now survived two craft villages and Datu was already turning towards a third when a small crisis raised its ugly head. It was 3pm and we were starving. The problem? It's Ramadan, the month when devout Muslims fast from sunrise to sunset (4:30am to 6:30pm). Noisy mosques notwithstanding Lombok is the first island we've been on where the majority of the population actually is Muslim. Our dilemma was how to fins something to eat without being offensive to the locals.
This is a big tourist island, so we thought the downtown mall food court might be the solution. It was and it wasn't. All the restaurants therein but one (including Mickey D's!) were closed until sunset. The one that was dispensing food was KFC, yet you could not sit in the restaurant! We did not want to try to scarf greasy chicken in the back seats of our taxi inflicting the aroma on our gentle, fasting Muslim driver. Datu's solution was to go for a walk while we hunkered on the tailgate in the parking lot surreptitiously wolfing down awesomely delicious (and greasy) chicken thighs! IMPORTANT NOTE: WE WERE NOT ALONE! The tailgate strategy was in play in several corners of the lot. Evidently not everyone plays by the rules.
From the mall it was off to the pottery village, which honestly was not too exciting, mjuch less personal, and much easier to resist. After all, pottery in the luggage...? Really?
In truth, the best part of the whole day had little to do with the shopping ops, but far more to do with the pleasures of land-cruising. It is absolutely worth the price of admission just to ride around in a car through the many various local landscapes with a guide who can answer questions about what you see. On Lombok, the land is evidently much richer than the other islands we'd visited, not to mention blessed with more water. Every scrap of land is cleared, terraced and cultivated. The majority of plots (paddies) support three crops a year: two harvests of rice and one of peanuts is typical. There were also stands of corn, tobacco, beans and chiles, also bananas, papaya and other crops shoe-horned in between fields, as well as water buffalo and goats staked our in cleared areas.
The houses are generally in better shape: larger, painted and landscaped. There are mosques everywhere, and the whole look of things reflects some impact by Bali's Hindu influence (there is much shared history with Bali, and still a sizable Balinese minority.)
Then, too, there is the tourism impact. In the coastal town of Senggigi there is everything from quaint guest houses to backpacker digs, to luxurious mega resorts like Sheraton and Holiday Inn! They say (They=Lonely Planet) that Lombok is on the verge of a tourism explosion. Interests from Dubai are at work on a huge development that will remake South Lombok. I asked Datu what the locals think of this, and he says they are in favor.
By the time we drove out of Mataram and up the rugged coast road through Senggigi and north to Medna Bay, the sun was heading toward the horizon and the frenzy of rush hour was beginning to set in. And not just any rush hour, Tom observed, but one likely complicated by a mass hypoglycemic crash as the hour inched toward the end of the Muslim fast. Drivers did seem a little extra crazy, and Datu's good humor a tad stretched as he strove to avoid hitting the motor bikers, push bikers, pony carts and pedestrians that use the road willy nilly not to mention a gathering a food carts along the road's edge! How they survive a month of this we can't quite imagine, especially as they don't get much sleep with all the prayers going out all night over the loud speakers. The boys irreverently call it Muslim karaoke, and to be honest, that is what it sounds like! Last night, the impact was somewhat muted by a power outage.
Today while I type in the marina palapa (and try vainly to upload photos to the BLog!), the boys went for a walk along the beach, and, after a little haranguing finally ventured out of the compound far enough to restock on eggs, veg and fruit. This should slightly appease Bette Lee who opted to stay aboard and clean off all the salt accumulated in the past week or so.
Tonight we are going back to Senggigi for a tourist dinner. Meals here at the marina are actually quite nice, as well as affordable, but they are a little repetitive. So I soon need to pack up and get ready.
Tomorrow, I believe we will poke our nose out to Lombok's famous offshore islands, the Gillis. The Gillis are three islands that are much smaller not to mention much less offshore than one imagines from the guidebook. There is said to be good diving, so Don and I will get wet once again. We will stay there a few days before moving on to Bali.
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