Fai Tira blog Wednesday 3rd November

 Fai Tira in Bali 8:44.43S 115:12.82E

It now seems an age since we first sailed into Indonesian waters, yet the freshness and special magic of the adventure remains.

To attribute this to a single reason would be difficult. The scenery, although very beautiful, only occasionally falls into the category of startlingly spectacular. The temperature is always far too hot for the comfort of most fair skinned, or any other skinned, human being. Their concessions to tourism can sometimes appear garish, and always lurking not far away is the poverty and deprivation that seems to underlie this society. So perhaps the biggest single impact comes from these irrepressible and beautiful people, their flashing smiles, friendly curiosity and generous spirits, with an apparent total lack of resentment to the occasional mass invasion of “wealthy” westerners, or perhaps that’s just an assessment by an arrogant, pre-conceived and conditioned European mind. And although I’m sure that a few more material conveniences would make life easier, their access to the media will have ensured that the cost of our relative affluence hasn’t gone unnoticed.

Since leaving Kupang, our journey West has taken us to Sawu, Rinca, Komodo, Pink Island, Crystal Bomie, the Gili Islands and Lombok before ending up at our current base at Benoa Marina in Bali.

We are now just returning to that base after a two night excursion on Fai Tira to the island of Lembongan, and abiding memories are already locked in my mind.

The betelnut-stained smiles of the village women and scary motorbike ride on Sawu.

The ferocious inter island currents that could push the boat along at 10 knots or slow it down to 3.

The almost total lack of wind that gave us such crap sailing in a wonderful place. There was one occasion that puts our progress into perspective, when we were visited by a beautifully coloured butterfly that alighted briefly on to our deck. It then  decided we weren’t going fast enough, took off and headed against the wind in the same direction as us, and promptly left us behind (probably had a drably coloured female somewhere hankering after his attention!)

There was the wonderful tranquil and lush anchorage, hillside walk and Komodo Dragons at Rinca.

The enterprising boat boys with their carvings and pearls for sale or exchange.

There was the slightly bristly officialdom in Komodo Village, the abject poverty and squalor, and the out of control young children, grasping and shoving for the meagre gifts that we were handing out.

There was the beauty of the night passages,

the morning light that glowed red off the surface of the sea, and the blues, purples, yellows and mauves of the receding night sky.

Then there was the haunting passage between islands with the towering volcanic peak of one of them, backlit by the almost full moon. Its cloud covered peak stretching through a halo of what looked like wispy cotton wool, with reflections dancing off the water. And then the sweet smell of sandalwood filled the air as it drifted across from the opposite shore on warm sea breezes. My watch was ending but I found myself resisting the pull of sleep, this was just too good to miss.

Our arrival at Gili Air, after two nights at sea, seemed almost anti-climactic. The island, close to that of Lombok, looked like a flat featureless resort surrounded by sand and seemed to possess all the interest of eggs frying. However, that’s not how it turned out. It was a great place.

The holiday accommodation was so subtly constructed that it was sometime indistinguishable. The beachside cafes and bars, with local fishing boats forming the backdrop, were so ramshackle and rickety, that any concession to tourism seemed almost token. The trappings of everyday life were all around and intermingled with the noise and activity of the open-air workshops of the local boat builders.

Everything was so relaxed and almost moving at a self determined pace....... Very slow!!

There’s no doubt that this place would probably shrivel if it wasn’t for its visitors, but somehow they’ve ensured the blend is palatable, with a barely discernible dividing line between the spenders and providers, this was tourism, but on their terms... Great!!

Our enjoyment was such that it caused an extension to our stay, and the next day, in the company of the guys off Jackamy, we indulged in a tour of Lombok, a place described as still hanging on to the charm of the Bali of the 60’s. It was organised by an enterprising and irrepressible guy called Harry who just happened to hear of our interest, and for an unbelievably low price ,that included a boat trip in both directions, two taxis for the day and a midday meal. All of this for what amounted to the individual price of a few gallons of U.K diesel, we took little convincing.

What we weren’t told about was that our two drivers, along with the rest of the Indonesian road users, are convinced that they should never be behind another vehicle of any description. The volume of motorised traffic here is huge and they’ll do just about anything to pass. I don’t think I’ve ever spent so much time on the wrong side of the road facing oncoming traffic. This must be the scooter capital of the world, and they come at you from all directions. There appears to be no age limit for the riders, but it seems to start at about 10 years old. The number of passengers or type and size of load only restricted by their bravery or the length of the piece of string available to tie it on!. Head protection appears to be the exclusive right of adults, or perhaps it’s just that helmets are not made small enough for 2 year olds!

In the end our two drivers, obviously friends, ended up racing each other, constantly sounding their horns and taking extraordinary risks to outdo each other. Thank goodness that the distraction of this fascinating country, its culture and beautiful people, managed to take control and occupy our now trembling minds.

Although the trip to Bali and the marina at Benoa was relatively short, the sky was still dark as we slipped away from our anchorage at the start of our 55 mile trip.

Some of the reason for the early start was to catch the tides. It worked and in total contrast to our inward journey, we found ourselves this time benefiting from 2 ½ knots of current for much of the trip, arriving not much after mid-day after originally worrying if we’d make it in daylight.

So, this was Bali. Was it the idyllic Indonesian paradise full of mystique and culture or the developing one and a playground for rich tourists and Australians (sorry, didn’t mean to suggest that Australians aren’t rich)

Our entry to the bay was greeted by a succession of plastic inflatable yellow bananas being dragged through the water at exceedingly  indecent speeds, accompanied by the whoops, hollers and screams of their over excited, straddling passengers. The sky was full of people dangling from multi coloured pieces of cloth (I think they’re called parachutes) Tied to bits of string and attached to speeding boats charging off in all directions. People were racing around on jet skis, the grubby and litter strewn marina was full, causing us to be the fourth boat in a line of those rafted up. And to top it all we were parked next to a massive bright yellow, island-hopping catamaran that belched out distorted reggae music from early morning until its subsequent departure in what, I can only assume, was an attempt to entice a curious breed of passenger who, for some reason, feel the need to pay for the dubious pleasure of being deafened........ Not a very good start then!!

It was the second day in Bali before we left the confines of the marina and engaged the services of a local taxi driver for the 15 minute trip into town. The journey was manic, but the old buildings either side of the mad dual carriageway housing what looked like ancient workshops of stone and wood carving, looked absolutely fabulous, and with stunning examples of their works on prominent display, it’s joined the list of places to get back to.

Our arrival in town had us dropped off in the beach resort area. Not just us with pre-conceived ideas then, was it our appearance that made the driver automatically think we’d be drawn to this artificial and false environment?. It’s not where I wanted to be, although an excursion into a narrow market area lead us to the shop of a fantastic wood carver called Jaun and the engagement in a fascinating conversation. He was working on a beautiful traditional carving with lovely intricate reliefs and patterns..It’s now my proud possession and tucked away safely on the boat.

It was dark by the time we eventually found the main street, consisting mainly of restaurants and flashy craft shops. Although we’ve been in Indonesia a little while now, our experience is still limited, but in almost every instance we’ve found that its charm and culture are never far from the surface, it’s just that at this moment Bali’s seem a bit diluted and well disguised. If nothing else this place has shown me the pitfalls of jumping to conclusions, and we’ve still a lot of exploring to do,

so let’s just wait and see!!

 John