And today, the trip to Nusa Lembongan. A 30 minute fast ferry. Paradise plus. Here we are, away from the maddening pace of Bali. The universe, it seems is not without a sense of irony. The two hour taxi from Bingin to the port town of Sanur was passed pleasantly chatting to my driver Nek, and marvelling at the skill of the local drivers, from truck to taxi to moped to motorbike. Somehow weaving the chaos of the tropics into motion and finally destination. My attempts to learn the local tongue from Nek are lacking in elocution. If I am ever to live here I must at least be able to mind my manners. As with most Balinese his favourite dish is babi guling. Suckling pig. A feast that is now on the mind menu of future tidings. I discovered that campur, pronounced champer, means mix. My assumption was, everything. Nasi campur. Rice mix. I eat with the locals across the road from the booking agent while some Euro's sorted their luggage. Nasi campur, rice with mix.
With tag and ticket in place I wandered down to the harbour. Surfboard carried on my head local style. The staff working the cliff hideaways in Bingin has this down to an art. Fortunately my journey was flat and paved, in contrast to the six thousand stairs cut into the cliff face in Bingin. When in Bali. The porters admiring my head balancing skills ensured I was on the right path. Go left boss, go left. I am after all a goofy foot. To my destination, a building fashioned after a sea dragon, I arrived. Thankfully the check in agent pointed to a photo of such when asked, where do I go?
Drop your bags here boss. I smiled and walked away. My steward caught me, remember to put a tag on and write your name. He pointed me to the tags. I obliged, left my surfboard bag containing my surfboard and majority of worldly possessions by the counter, checked myself in and headed up the stairs to the waiting area. I was early, so took my seat and assessed my fellow travellers. Middle eastern, European, Indian, Asian, and of course Australian. We are apart from the Europeans you know. We swear more.
My party arrived. Ambionne, my beautiful daughter. Her partner Jed, six foot four and built like a truck. Mitch, his best mate along with his missus, Megan. They had been partying in Seminyak as only the young jet set can do and now were looking forward to chilling on the quieter island of Nusa Lembongan. We awaited the call for our boat as I realised that boats depart from here to all sorts of places, the Gili islands, Lombok and Lembongan. Would my surfboard and belongings arrive with me? 50/50 I reckon. I've been in Bali barely a week and surprisingly not bothered. Possessions, after all, can end up possessing you.
The boat was fast and navigated the swell and wind chop with ease. Five, one thousand horsepower outboards on the back of the sleek hull had us planing the seas and on our way. As the island came into view the yachts, party boats, and jet skis heralded our arrival. The arrival point is a beach. The captain skillfully reversed the vessel on the white sand beach. The crew moored the boat off the shore with thick ropes and helped the disembarking passengers step into the surging water onto the picture perfect white sands of Lembongan beach.
The taxi already organised had the driver greet out party on the beach while the crew off loaded the luggage. The surfboards came last. After a few moments of uncertainty mine was handed to me by a smiling weathered sailor. Again, among all the chaos it had worked out.
Rather than systems it is people here that make the world turn. Always with a smile and good humour, here on these islands of the gods.