Swim Pat, Swim!!

Today is travel day and I have to catch the 10.45am boat back to mainland.

Following on from my turtle experience yesterday, I decided I wanted more turtle action and had hoped to wake up around 6am to catch high tide and go for an early morning swim in the hope of catching more turtles (and attempt to capture them on film!). Unfortunately, I slept right through my alarm and didn’t stir until c.8am, so instead, I finished packing and decided to head over to the eco turtle sanctuary. A girl in a bar had at some point informed me that you could adopt a turtle here and release one into the wild if you offered a donation.

So, off I trotted to the turtle sanctuary where I learned that turtles were a delicacy on Lombok and that ‘farmers’ would collect the baby turtle eggs and then sell them on Lombok to be eaten by the locals or have their shells made into souvenirs. The sanctuary was set up in order to try and save the turtles, as their numbers are dropping and there is a risk that they may become extinct. What the sanctuary does, is take donations and with that money they would buy the eggs from the farmers instead and would rear the eggs in captivity until they are 6 months old and are strong enough to survive. It is at 0-6 months that turtles are at their most vulnerable, and being so small they make good shark food, so often, baby turtles do not survive in the wild. This is why they are reared to 6 months old as they are stronger, larger, and more likely to survive the

great blue ocean. The recommended donation is 300,000 IDR, however I only had 250 on me. Luckily, Popcorn the local lad that was talking me through everything, said that was ok but don’t tell anyone. He accepted my 250 and picked a strong turtle that was ready to be released. It was about the size of the palm of my hand and was a wriggly little bugger! Super cute, so much so, I think I want a turtle/terrapin tank when I get home…. We shall see! Anyway, Popcorn asked me what I wanted to call it (as they should be given a name), got me to sign some documents, and off we went to the water front.

I decided to call my turtle Patricia (or Pat), in memory of my grandmother who had died only a few weeks prior. I thought this was a fitting name as Nana had lived a good, long life and that was what was intended for these turtles. Symbolically, I guess you could also say it was a little part of the grieving process as I haven’t really cried much since she died, and by my releasing the turtle I also said a goodbye in my head and released her as I released Pat the turtle. I thought of Nana as I laid Turtle Pat onto the sand and watched her try with all her might to head into the water. Is crazy to see their instinct kick in. She just knew where to go, knew what to do, and with every wave that washed onto the shore, she edged a little closer to the ocean. Eventually a big enough wave came in and the retreating surf managed to carry her out to sea. You could see her bobbing about at first and then she was off out of sight, hopefully onto live a long, healthy, happy life and eventually make her own babies. I hope she makes it…

After having done this, I pretty much bounced back to my hotel, grabbed my bags and checked out. They took forever to check me out and I was starting to get a bit panicky that I was going to miss my boat. I then headed for the docks, and like my outward trip - it was carnage. I already had a ticket, so presumed I could just board. Apparently not. I had to exchange my ticket for another ticket, and turns out, after all the fraff, I had missed my boat. I smiled charmingly at some young lad (you’ve got to love being a woman sometimes) and managed to persuade him to help me exchange my old ticket for a new one in order to get on a different boat. I made it onto the boat and off we sailed.

When we arrived on main land, it was the same chaotic story. Hundreds of people with signs shouting taxi taxi, tourists scrambling for their luggage as it was offloaded from the boat who would then wander around without a clue as to what to do next. I asked a man in an official t-shirt where do I grab my transfer from and he directed me to a ticket office. Once I got there, they directed me to another ticket office. They too then said I wasn’t at the right desk and directed me back to the first desk. By this point I had basically been walking around the chaos in circles, had my massive backpacker back pack on, and was getting rather pissed off, sweaty and tired. Eventually I found the office, but then I encountered my next problem. Where was my ticket? I needed my ticket for the bus transfer. I explained that I had given it to the guy on Gili T at the boat desk, however they told me that wasn’t possible, and told me I must have it on me. I then had to empty every single pocket on me to prove to them that I didn’t have it. Luckily I described that it was a yellow ticket bla bla which confirmed I wasn’t lying as that was the correct colour ticket for this trip. They were none too happy, as apparently, the yellow ticket is how they claim their money back from the online booking services. They then told me I had to pay for another ticket which I outright refused as know I had already paid! Luckily, being the overly organised bunny that I am, I had my original booking confirmation receipt on me and could prove that I had paid. Begrudgingly they accepted this and I was then ushered onto a 7-seater car and driven to the centre of Ubud. On route I saw something that I hadn’t expected. Someone from back home had told me previously, that if I had the opportunity to go to a Balinese funeral I should go as I would never see anything quite like it. Let’s face it though, what are the chances of actually seeing a funeral while here…

Never presume!

There we were driving along through a small village when suddenly, we could hear a thud thud thud of a drum and a ting ting ting of a bell. The cab driver then pulled over and before I knew it, a funeral procession was walking towards us! A man dressed in traditional white clothing was at the front of a procession waving incense, he was then followed by around 50 people all dressed in white and yellow traditional dress. The crowd each had their own tasks for the procession. Some rang bells, some carried offerings, some banged drums, while others just walked behind the procession.

This is when I had a moral deliberation. It is a funeral and you shouldn’t really take photos. However…. This is me and I couldn’t resist. The driver saw me grab my phone and gave me a funny look, so I tried my best to discreetly film the procession without wither the driver or the grievers from seeing. Several men carried a platform which was covered in material, flowers and adornments - this platform had the body on it. Out of respect I purposely moved the camera away so not to offend or be disrespectful. After the procession had moved on, we continued on our way. We travelled a further 20 minutes and then...

Ting ting ting.
Thud thud thud.

Another funeral! What are the chances! This one wasn’t as elaborate or grand as the first, nor did this one have a dead body – only ashes in an urn which was also carried on a platform.

What struck me about these two funerals was the energy. It was so happy! The crowd that followed both processions were smiling - some people even waved as they passed! Back home, our funerals are quite morbid and we dress all in black. If anything, you feel guilty if you have a good time at a funeral, so it was really lovely to see the stark contrast in cultures for this type of event. Obviously having just seen 2 funerals and having released turtle Pat out at sea I became overwhelmed with emotion and started to cry. Luckily I had my sun glasses on and the Spanish group sat behind me were too occupied with the scenery that no one noticed. I don’t know where it came from but all I could think of was my nana and how much I miss her and how I will never again have her homemade chips or sit with her in the front room telling her tales of my trips. I pulled myself together, discreetly wiped my eyes and (wo)manned the hell up. I am in public and I don’t want to be the solo weird English girl in the front seat crying. So (wo)manned up I did!

Initially I had paid to be dropped off at my hotel, but the driver dropped me off in the city centre instead. By this point I was so hot, sticky, emotional and tired I really couldn’t be bothered to argue; plus, the driver didn’t speak English anyway. So I set off in search for a taxi. Google maps informed me I was only 10 minutes away by car and 25 minutes on foot, but I had my luggage with me, so thought sod walking!

I started to haggle for a taxi who were trying to fleece me out of 200,000 IDR to go up the road. I though sod this I’ll walk up a little and see if I can find another driver. I walked past a lad who had overheard my discussion and introduced himself as Blackie. I refused to call him this and demanded he tell me his real name, which I have forgotten, so for PC sake, let’s just call him Dave. Dave offered to take me to my hotel for only 50,000, however all he had was a moped. I showed him my luggage and told him there was no way he could drive with all this weight on a moped, but he seemed adamant that he would be ok and convinced me to hop on. I was shitting it. Firstly, I’ve just jumped on a strangers moped, secondly, the roads were madness as cars and mopeds competed for road space. He managed to get me to the hotel in one piece, gave me his number for if ever I needed a lift, and went our separate ways.

My hotel is gorgeous! It is a little out of the way from the main town, however the scenery is worth it. My villa (yes, I have an entire villa to myself), is positioned right at the top of an infinity pool,

which looks out onto a rice field, which backs onto a temple. It is stunning!
I also get a welcome massage which I will use in a day or so, free afternoon tea at 4pm every day, a local mobile phone and my own driver to pick me and drop me off whenever I want! The last point is a bit of a result to be honest as the road up to the hotel is pitch pitch black and is a tiny winding road which just screams “I’m going to be killed here”. So it’s nice to know that I don’t have to pay for taxis left and right and centre, or walk it and risk getting murdered. Result!
My room is mahoosive and has a ginormous walk-in-wardrobe which I absolutely love. The bed is so big that when I starfish I cannot touch the edge of the bed, but it also has a beautiful mosquito net which makes it look like a princess bed. Emily, you would have died and gone to heaven!

The weird thing however about this place, is that the bathroom is outdoors... Now why on earth would you want to poop outdoors? I don’t know about you, but I like a closed door with privacy. Very strange... The shower is also outdoors, so that was fun trying to shower whilst batting the mosquitos out of the way. Note to self, make sure you shower during day-light when the mosquitos are not out in their droves.

While I am here in Ubud, my pirate wedding friends Ej & Luke are also here on honeymoon. Upon my arrival, I got in touch to inform them of my location and we then set about meeting up. Luke picked a local restaurant with good reviews on trip advisor called Mama Warung’s and there we met for dinner and gassed for a good few hours.

I had a pork dish with rice which I can’t remember the name of. It was ok… Not the best food I’ve had here

I’ll admit, but it was nice to catch up with friends in a random country all the same. After dinner, we headed out in search of a bar - which we struggled to find. It has become apparent that Ubud is not a party place at all and is very very quiet at night - a stark contrast to the party island I had just departed! We had a funky looking cocktail in a restaurant that was still open and then headed home. Ubud has Uber! Stroke of luck! Getting around will be a doddle! My taxi was a 10-minute drive and cost me the equivalent of one English pound! It’s so cheap here in comparison to home that I almost laugh every time I convert the currency when buying things.

Anyway, home I went and hit the hay, ready for tomorrows early start and culture tour…