Indonesia day 16 – Solo, central Java

Posted on Sunday, 28 Jun 2009 by Hattie

We set out with the intention of visiting the Kraton Surakata, Solo’s largest palace.  It’s  Sunday, everyone is out on the streets in their finery and there is something of a holiday atmosphere.  This is the liveliest we have seen Solo since we arrived.  On the way along Jalan Salmet Riyadi we stop to watch a children’s dance troupe which is attracting a sizeable crowd.  It’s a sweltering day and I can feel the perspiration running off me as we stand and watch, feeling rather sorry for the children who are wearing elaborate tradional costumes and long thick wigs.  The performance is part of the Mozaik Festival and the children are followed by an adult troupe with elaborate feather head-dresses and bells strapped to their carves.  There is an introduced in Indonesian by a young woman who must have spotted us, the only westerners in the audience, because she rounds off with a short explanation of the dance in English for our benefit.  It tells the story of the hunting and capture of two tigers.  The tigers are captured and removed from the stage early on in the dance, but like many Indonesian dances, it is repetitive and long and we don’t have the stamina or will to stay until the end.

The Kraton Surakata is the palace of the premier royal family of Solo and is on a larger and grander scale than the Puri Mangkunegaran, although not is a good repair.  It is approached across an Alun Alun  – a large, scrubby and litter-strewn square of grass.  Here at the main entrance is the Pagelaran, a large open-sided audience hall where the susuhunan held court.  Behind the Pagelaran and separated from it by a busy narrow street is the Kraton proper enclosed with a high perimeter wall.  Much of the palace was destroyed by fire in 1985 and subsequently re-built.  Surprisingly given its recency, most of it is in a rather dilapidated state.  There is a small museum containing few bits and pieces many of which are in dire need of restoration.  An inner courtyard of tall shady trees leads to the pendopo which is off-limits to the public and the Panggung Saonggo Buwono tower which dates back to 1782 – a white and blue wooden structure which seems slightly incongruous in this palace setting.  

There is batik parade some time this afternoon along Jalan Salmet Riyadi, a wide boulevard that runs east to west through the city  and is only a couple of minutes walk from our losmen.  When seems to be a bit of a moving feast;   officially it starts at 2pm but as we sit having lunch in the losmen the projected time is pushed back to 3pm and then 3.30.  Around 3.15 we wander down the road to see what’s happening.  The street is lined with onlookers but it is still open to traffic.  We could be in for a long wait,  Indonesians being notorious, apparently, for their poor time-keeping.  So we step into what turns out to be a small food court which affords a view of the road and order a drink.  The parade doesn’t make an appearance until after 5pm and then is a rather desultory and sporadic affair.  The extravagant and theatrical batik costumes and masks are quite spectacular, though the parade is short-lived.  Suddenly and without warning the road is full of traffic once more and the crowd has to scuttle back to the safety of the pavements.

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Indonesia day 15 – Solo, central Java

Posted on Saturday, 27 Jun 2009 by Hattie

The hotel offers half-day guided bicycle tours into the countryside around Solo and we are ready at 9am to meet our guide,  Patrick (presumably not his Javanese name, but who knows?).  After sorting  us out with a couple of rather ancient mountain bikes with somewhat ropey brakes, we set off with some trepidation through the city traffic.  Solo is a city of 500,000 inhabitants, but despite its size it doesn’t take long before we are crossing the river Solo on a small rope-operated ferry boat and leaving the city traffic behind.  Each village specialises particular cottage industry and we visit several small ‘factories’  making tofu, rice crackers, tempe (a fermented soya cake),  arak (rice spirit), roof tiles, gamelan gongs, batik as well as a bakery.    ‘Factory’ probably gives something of a misleading impression of these tiny businesses housed in run-down barns with dirt floors and an absence of western standards of hygiene.  Our namby-pamby sensibilities are shocked to see the conditions in which food destined for the city’s restaurant is produced.   Tofu is left out on grubby-looking bamboo shelves for the geckos to nibble;  the soya bean and yeast mix for tempe is packed into banana leaf packets on the floor of a village house;  the rice for crackers is cooked, pounded, pressed into racks and sliced into slivers,  all by  hand in a dark and dingy shed fit only for housing animals before being dried in the sun and then fried and bagged ready for sale.   The bakery is an equally dark and dingy affair with huge piles of dough lying on tables and buns being packed into cellophane bags by young girls sitting on the tiled floor;  and the distillery making arak for medical use under license from the government is incredibly crude and homespun.   The tile factory is involves one man laboriously producing individual tiles using a manual press to shape the clay.  The most striking thing about all of these little industries apart from the dubious surroundings in which they operate, is the total absence of any mechanisation.  Everything is done manually by villagers on incredibly low wages, some as little as 75p per day. 

It is the gamelan factory which is the highlight of the tour.  There are only six gamelan factories in
Indonesia apparently, and today they are in the midst of producing the gongs that form part of a gamelan orchestra.  Two furnaces which are little more than fire pits in pitch black rooms send showers of orange sparks flying into the air as the metal is lowered in the pit and turned until it is red hot and malleable enough to be beaten into shape.  The beaters then take up their 10 kilo hammers and pound the metal one after the other in a repetitive and rhythmic round.  The gongs are destined for Bali and the complete set will take three months to produce and cost £18,000.

Back in the Solo alleyways we stop in the quarter which is home to Solo’s famed batik industry.  Batik is produced in small workshops and we visit one which is behind a little showroom close to our losmen.  The whole process – the tracing of the patterns onto cloth, the application of the wax and the dyeing all takes place in a small room at the back.  There are five or six people working here;  three women are painstakingly applying wax to create intricate sarong designs whilst two men are creating batik cap which is a method of block printing wax onto cloth to produce a cheaper  batik product.  Alongside are tubs of wood from which the natural dyes are produced and several vats of dye.  Each piece of batik can be dyed up to 22 times to build up the layers of colour in the final design.

By the time we return to the hotel around 1pm we are tired and hungry;  cycling in the heat even on the flat is quite exhausting.  So we head for the rather characterful restaurant over the road and, despite what we have seen this morning, indulge in a delicious meal of tofu, tempe and rice crackers – and live to tell the tale!

 

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Indonesia day 14 – Solo, central Java

Posted on Friday, 26 Jun 2009 by Hattie

The hotel Istana Griya is a charming little place and full of character.    Colourful décor and seating under the shade of a porch-cum-veranda at the front gives it a homely feel and the immaculately restored Harley Davidson parked in the reception is clearly someone’s pride and joy.   The staff are very friendly and volunteer information and a map of the city.  We set out to do a bit of shopping, post some cards and generally orientate ourselves.  No-one could claim that Solo is a particularly beautiful city, but off the main roads are numerous peaceful little alleyways – free of cars and traffic noise –  which are home to the kampungs (neighbourhoods) where the inhabitants of Solo live.   The city is renowned as a cultural centre for the performing arts – although it doesn’t stand comparison with Ubud in terms of the number and diversity of performances on offer – and for traditional crafts especially batik.

It also has two palaces, the Kraton Surakarta and Puri Mangkunegaran.  The former is closed on Fridays, so we visit Puri Mangkunegaran which is the smaller of the two.  We are escorted round by our own personal guide and two school children who are observing as part of their tourism studies.  There are two royal families in Solo and this palace is home to the second house.  It is a Unesco World Heritage site and is well maintained as a result.  At the centre of the palace compound is large open-sided pavilion with a lovely painted ceiling and behind it a small, but interesting museum and the state rooms including a reception room – where we pose for photographs sitting in the royal chairs – and the dining room, where it is possible to dine with the royal family for a mere US$30 a head! 

 

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Indonesia day 13 – Cemoro Lewang to Solo, central Java

Posted on Thursday, 25 Jun 2009 by Hattie

Our tour of the Gunung Bromo and
Bromo-Tengger-Semeru National Park leaves at 4am from our hotel in Cemora Lewang.  A convoy of jeeps snakes its way down onto the crater floor and makes the steep climb to Penanjakan, which at 2,770 meters, is the highest point on the Tengger crater rim.  It is pitch black as our 4wd containing us and four other tourists negotiates the precipitous and pot-holed road to the top.   At Penanjakan there must be 60 or 70 jeeps at least parked up along the narrow road and a surprising number of mainly Javanese visitors are congregating on at the viewing area eagerly anticipating the sunrise as they jockey for the best positions.  To get to the viewing platform we have had to run the gauntlet of numerous stalls selling food, hats, gloves, scarves and other items of merchandise.  It’s cold in the mountains at this time in the morning and enterprising hawkers are renting coats to those who have come unprepared.  We have hired padded jackets from the hotel for 50,000 rupiah (£3).  Hattie is doing duty keeping Andy snug whilst I have invested £1.25 in a wooly beanie.

As an orange and pink hue starts to spread across the dawn sky heralding the rising sun an incredible view unfolds before us;  we are looking down on a sea of clouds on one side of the rim and the belching crater of Gurung Bromo and its neighbours to the other.   Only a few peaks of can be seen above the clouds,  the main being  Gurung Semora  which at 3,676 metres above sea level is the highest volcano in the national park.  The light playing over the clouds is a tantalizing sight changing their topography moment by moment.  Then suddenly the sun rises and in the blink of an eye the magic is lost.

Back in the jeep we return to the caldera floor to traverse the Sea of Sands and climb to the crater of Gurung Bromo.  The ascent involves negotiating the skirt of the volcano and then tackling 257 steps to the crater rim.  We set off to climb it on foot eschewing the easier alternative of being led on horseback.  But the effect of the altitude makes a struggle of what in other conditions would be an easy ascent.  So I succumb and ride up as far as the steps.   The effort of climbing the steps is well rewarded by a magnificent view down into the crater and the gaping gash from which the steam pours out.  It’s possible for the adventurous and fit to take the narrow and challenging path round circumference of the crater, but no-one seems up for it today.    

After breakfast back at the hotel, we take a minibus back to Probolinggo from where we will pick up our transfer to Solo in central Java.  The journey is an experience;  there are ten western tourists in the bus when we set off, but along the way the bus stops several times to pick up locals until there are sixteen passengers packed in like sardines, plus one person on the roof with the luggage and another  hanging on the external ladder.  How they manage to hang on as the driver hurtles down the treacherously steep and winding road is a mystery.

In Probolinggo we transfer to a tourist shuttle which we share with a none-too-chatty couple for what turns out to be a seven-and-an-half hour journey to  Solo in central Java.  It is a tedious journey in heavy traffic most of the way.  We have reclining seats and lots of leg room to make it more bearable, but not the promised air con.  The driver is surly and uncommunicative, and like all Javanese, drives like a maniac;  overtaking at every hair-raising opportunity (on-coming vehicles just have to move over to accommodate traffic that is over-taking) or passing lorries using what is little more than a hard shoulder provided for mopeds and cyclists.  We make a couple of short stops along the way but It isn’t until 4pm that we are ejected from the car without explanation, for what turns out to be a meal stop.  We eventually arrive in Solo an hour and half later than expected only to be dropped on a busy street instead of at our hotel and have to complete the rest of the journey by taxi. 

We haven’t been able to book ahead, so it is with a certain amount of trepidation that we arrive at the hotel Istana Griya, but fortunately they have a vacancy.  The hotel has a good atmosphere and heaps of charm, although the room is a bit skuzzy (as Lonely Planet might say) and like many places here the toilet cistern no longer works so the toilet has to be flushed using a bucket of water.  But hey, it’s well located just off the main drag and being in an alley, it is quiet, which is a big plus in this island of mosques and heavy traffic.   It’s cheap too, only 130,000 rupiah (just under £8) and internet is only 50p an hour.

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Indonesia day 12 – Banyuwangi to Cemora Lawang, eastern Java

Posted on Wednesday, 24 Jun 2009 by Hattie

Today we are headed for Cemora Lawang via Probolinggo to see one of Java’s most spectacular volcanoes, Gurung Bromo. 

The train to Probolinggo leaves Letapang at 9am, so we have ordered a taxi for 7.30am to ensure we have plenty of time and the best chance of securing  seats in either executive or bisnis class and thereby avoiding economy which apparently is a bit of a free-for-all.  What we hadn’t appreciated is that Java is in a different time zone to
Bali and yesterday we had gained an hour.    It’s actually 6.30 am when we present ourselves in reception anticipating that our pre-booked taxi will be waiting.  There’s no point in hanging around in the hotel so we leave anyway and just as well we did, as all the executive class tickets are sold out by the time we get to the station.  We settle for bisnis class (no aircon) and reconcile ourselves to atwo-hour wait for the train.  This is not a busy station, at least at this time in the morning g;  there is only one other train leaving before ours.  The journey is long and the train is crowded and inordinately slow.  If this is bisnis class then economy is definitely to be avoided!  At every station, and there are many, hawkers selling all manner of food stuffs parade their wares through the carriages and from time to time the train staff proffer plated meals of nasi goreng.  

We arrive in Probolinggo at 2pm.  The journey has taken five hours.  The only transport from the station appears to be becaks (bicycle rickshaws) who seem to know how to get us to Cemoro Lewang .  So we hire two (one not being big enough for the both of us and our luggage) and we are off through the quiet and pretty backstreets of Probolinggo to eventually be delivered  to …  the tourist information office.   Opting for the easy life we allow ourselves to be persuaded to sign up for a package which includes the transfer from Probolinggo to Cemora Lewang 45 kilometres away, a sunrise trip to the volcano Gunang Bromo and a tourist shuttle to the town of Solo, our onward destination in central Java.  All of which sounds a lot more appealing than trying to organise it ourselves.  The transfer to Cemora Lewang is a rather shabby and cramped minibus up some of the steepest roads I’ve ever encountered.  Up and up we climb, passing impossibly-steep cultivated fields, through the clouds to emerge at the Cemara Indah Hotel right on the lip of the massive Tengger crater, some 2000 or so meters above sea level. 

And the view is spectacular in an eerie, surreal kind of way.  Stretching below us is the enormous crater floor 10km across on which three volcanoes seem to rest on an ashen sea of volcanic sand.  The whole scene has the unreality of a computer generated film set.  The scene is dominated by a large perfectly symmetrical conical volcano and it adjacent neighbor,  the grey Gurung Bromo spread in an untidy fashion across the crater floor.  By no means the largest volcano in Java at 2,392 meters, Gurung Bromo must be one of the most dramatic as it belches clouds of sulphurous steam into air.   The setting is made all the more dreamlike by what looks like a miniature model temple so dwarfed is it by the imposing surroundings.

 

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Indonesia day 11 – Pemuteran, Bali to Banyuwangi, Java

Posted on Tuesday, 23 Jun 2009 by Hattie

The journey by car to the ferry port at Gilimanuk on the west coast takes about an hour through tree-lined lanes with neatly strimmed verges and pretty houses. 
Bali’s countryside is unerringly beautiful, with every shade of green imaginable, explosions of vibrantly-colourful flowers, dazzlingly clear light and spectacular mountain backdrops.  Not forgetting the wonderfully hospitable people.  Paradise indeed!  Perhaps we should have stayed longer, but Java beckons. 

Only a narrow stretch of water separates Bali from Java, but it is still a surprise just how close Java’s volcanoes loom across a strait that can be no more that a kilometer or so wide.  It still takes half-hour to make the crossing for all that.  The tickets cost a mere 4,500 rupiah each (27p) and are checked three times between the ticket office and the ferry.  Foot passengers board by the car ramp and make their way up to the passenger deck, a pretty basic affair with plastic seating and loud Indonesian pop music blarting incessantly.   On arrival at Letapang in Java we start to make our way to the train station with the intention of buying tickets for our onward journey tomorrow before heading for our hotel.  But we are intercepted by a man from the Tourist Information Bureau who is very insistent that we must come to the office and register our arrival in Java.  Whether this is strictly necessary or just a ruse to sell us a tour we are not quite sure, but having registered he wants to sell us a trip to the volcano, Gurung  Ijen.  We decide not to be bamboozled into signing up on the spur of the moment and instead charter a bemo to take us to our hotel.   Bemos are Indonesia’s hop-on hop-off minibuses that form the basis of their local transport system and can either be used as a public bus or chartered like a taxi.  They are dilapidated, cramped and uncomfortable but incredibly cheap. 

Our hotel, chosen on the recommendation of Lonely Planet, is about 18km from the port of Ketapang, in Banyuwangi.  Banyuwangi is not an attractive place and why Lonely Planet saw fit to recommend the hotel is a mystery.  It is in a particularly unprepossessing area and is very run down.  The ‘best’ room in the hotel has no windows, an appalling bathroom with a loo that doesn’t flush and pipe work that is constantly leaking.  To cap it all we are right next to the mosque which might as well be conducting its service in our room, it is so loud and intrusive.  But, it’s only for one night and the thought of having to slog around with our luggage looking for something better is less appealing than staying put. 

By this time it’s 2 o’clock and our stomachs are protesting.  We are on our way out of the hotel to find something to eat when we are accosted by a man in uniform.  A policeman perhaps?  No it is a government tourist representative come specially to provide us with information!  The information he has to impart is pretty sparse and he is of little help with the important issue of the moment – somewhere to eat. 

Locating a restaurant proves a bit of a challenge;  there are plenty of ‘warungs’ or food stalls around the area, but none very appealing.   It soon becomes apparent that there is nothing remotely catering for tourists in this corner of Banyuwangi  and we are going to have to  try to decipher an Indonesian menu with the help of the limited glossary in the guide book.  We settle on a corner café, but with no menu the waitress has to resort to bringing food out from the kitchen to show us what she has, which isn’t very much.  Trying to explain ‘vegetarian’ is one step too far and she goes off to find someone who can speak English.  Very helpfully he directs us to another café, the Mitra, around the corner where we manage to make ourselves understood with the aid of animal impressions (moo, flapping of arms and the like) and have a tasty lunch for the embarrassingly cheap price of 35,000 rupiah – just over £2. 

Walking on the pavement in most south-east Asian cities is a challenge – either it doesn’t exist, is obstructed by stalls and mopeds or is a mass of potholes, broken paving and general detritus – and Banyuwangi is no exception.  Often it’s necessary to step around or over obstacles or desert the pavement altogether in favour of the road.    

There are two particularly bizarre sights which are quite commonly seen on the pavements here.   Hawkers leaning into open-topped cages heaving with hundreds of cockroach-like bugs which appear to be fed on bananas;  we suspect they are sold for culinary purposes, but it’s hard to imagine anyone wanting to eat them.   The strange thing about this arrangement is the bugs never seem to escape out of the top of the cage.  Alongside these cages is often a man with a small pile of what looks like rice on a patch of cloth, but I suspect is sweetened desiccated coconut which he sells in very small quantities to passersby.  The pile is over-run by large red ants which he is forever trying to keep a bay with a rather grubby looking rag.  The ants must also run over him as well, for he is continually brushing his arms, ears and neck.   Intriguing and rather perplexing.

 

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Indonesia day 10 – Pemuteran, Bali

Posted on Monday, 22 Jun 2009 by Hattie

There is not much to do in Pemuteran if you don’t want to dive;   except chill and today we do just that.  Lunch on by the beach, some blogging, a visit to a small turtle hatchery, a stroll to the western end of the beach and the purchase of a sim card fill the day quite easily.  

The beach is interrupted in places by a black lava pavement and at low tide the rocky seabed beyond is revealed making it difficult to get into the water.  This is not really a spot for swimming, although there are places where it is possible to enter the sea safely and do a little snorkeling around the coral reef which is being created using electric current and an artificial structure.  Apparently it’s rather like something from a sci-fi movie, but we haven’t felt the inclination to take a look for ourselves. 

The sand is a gamut of colours from areas of jet black to shades of grey and gold and the rock pools are full of marine life from small fish and crabs to sea slugs and strange-snake like creatures with anemone-type fronds for mouths.

The beach is fringed with large broad leaf trees that provide welcome shade and provide a pleasant backdrop that obscures the few low-rise and, it should be said, attractive, resorts.  There are palms too and we stop to watch a man scale one of these towering trees, bare-foot and without a harness, to collect the sap accumulating in plastic bottles hung amongst the crown of fronds.

For £1.50 it’s possible to buy a sim card here with 60p-worth of airtime.  We have no idea how many minutes that might equate to, but it seems like a good deal anyhow!  And since many hotels in Indonesia don’t take bookings over the internet a local sim card is likely to be quite handy.   The actual purchase, made at a little roadside kiosk, is a drawn-out affair as attempts are made to activate the sim card for us.  But after about half-an-hour of putting the sim in and out different handsets, a call to the network provider seems to do the trick and we are able to make our first call to book tomorrow night’s accommodation in Java.      

We round off the day with two Arak cocktails in the bar near our bungalow.  Tonight it is quite busy with seven customers including us filling its veranda is full.  We chat to a young German couple who are on honeymoon here and are also off to Java tomorrow – on a day trip to Mount Ijen leaving at 4.30 am whilst we will be leaving at the much more civilized hour of 10 o’clock.

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Indonesia day 9 – Pemuteran, Bali

Posted on Sunday, 21 Jun 2009 by Hattie
Our bungalow is more or less in the centre of the village which is strung along the main coastal road. So we decide to explore in the other direction today, but finding nothing much on the main road take a side road that runs towards the mountains and passed village houses until eventually it peters out in to a little track. All along the way we are greeted with enthusiastic ‘hellos’ accompanied by much waving of hands by adults and giggling children alike. Where are you going? Where do you come from are two other favourite greetings employed by the Balinese. A young man seeing us passing rushes out of his house anxious to explain that this is a dead end path, but of course we are welcome to walk it to the end and even to rest in his house if we wish.  
We have lunch in the garden of the Reef Scene beach-side bar. Gamelin music is playing in the background as a group of young Balinese girls in sarongs and sashes practice their classical dance skills. 
At dinner we chat briefly to a young English couple who, it turns out, used to live in Kirkstall Avenue, just round the corner from our old house in Streatham Hill. Why these chance meetings with people who have some shared connection should continue to evoke surprise, I’m not sure, since they seem to happen with uncanny frequency. They do, nonetheless!

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Indonesia day 8 – Pemuteran, Bali

Posted on Saturday, 20 Jun 2009 by Hattie
I’m feeling much better today; my energy levels are back to normal and so we decide to explore the village. Along the main road there is a money changers, a few small shops selling basic groceries, several family-run restaurants and at least three tiny mobile phone ‘shops’. It seems in Bali that you may be miles from a bank or decent shop, but your mobile phone requirements are invariably catered for.  
The moneychanger turns out to offer tours and transport as well, so we enquire about getting to Java. And yes, there is a tourist shuttle bus that goes to Java leaving at 7pm in the evening and travelling overnight to Surabaya, a large resort on the north coast and a place we want to avoid. The price includes the ferry and dinner, and yes we could get off the shuttle wherever we want along the way and forgo the dinner, but the price will be the same. Not much flexibility there, then! On the other hand, a cheaper option is to charter a car and driver to the ferry port and cross to Java under our own steam. This will suit us better as we want to spend some time in eastern Java visiting the volcanoes of Bromo and possibly Ijen.
The road east out of the village eventually arrives at two temples just on the outskirts. The first on the mountain side of the road is of little interest apart from the large number of grey monkeys who as the temple guardians live here undisturbed. A sarong and sash are required to visit most Bali temples and if you don’t have these items, then it is possible, at this temple at least, to borrow them in return for a donation. Clad in our sarongs we take a quick look round, which is all it takes to appreciate its rather plain and unkempt interior. The temple on the other side of the road, on the other hand, is impressively perched on a promontory over-looking the sea and has a number of interesting stone carvings of dragons, Vishnu, Shiva and Brahma and a geruda, the mythical half man-half bird creature which is the symbol of modern-day Indonesia. We are ushered in by a lame guide with little English who points out all the notable features of the temple including the two large wooden bells that hang in the belfry accompanied by much gesticulation, laughter and broad smiles . Sarongs and sashes don’t appear to be a requirement at this temple, but at the end of the short tour the donations book is produced so that we can show our appreciation.
Walking back we stop to watch a snake attempting, unsuccessfully to cross the road. Struggle as it might, for some reason it doesn’t seem to be able to get even half way – perhaps the surface is too hot. All the while cars, lorries and mopeds are coming perilously close to running it over and send it skittering back towards the verge. Eventually it gives up and retreats into the grass, but not before a young man on a moped stops for a look and to engage us in conversation.  
We are the only customers in the restaurant where we stop for lunch along the way. A small place with only a handful of tables on a veranda overlooking a small, rather scrubby garden and the road beyond. Hens and chicks are clucking and scratching in the dirt and occasionally one ventures onto the veranda in search of a few crumbs. But despite its unprepossessing location the food is delicious and ridiculously cheap.  
We round off the afternoon with a couple of rather delicious cocktails made from Arak , the local spirit, mixed with honey and lemon in the unobtrusive little bar and soon-to-be internet café which is owned along with the mini-mart next door by the family who run the bungalows in which we are staying.  

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Indonesia day 7 – Munduk to Pemuteran, Bali

Posted on Friday, 19 Jun 2009 by Hattie
We have a car and driver to take us to Pemateran on the north-east coast. We drive through picturesque villages which line the roadside arriving at Siririt on the coast where we stop to get cash. Munduk didn’t have an ATM, bank or moneychanger and according to Lonely Planet neither does Pemuteran or the ferry port of Gilmanuk where we will pick up a ferry to Java in a few days time. Siririt seems to be our only opportunity to get some money for a while, so we use both cards to withdraw the maximum allowed – which is only 1.2m rupias per card – a mere £140 in total! At least it gives a small stash to cover us for those occasions when we are out of reach of an ATM in Java – credit cards not being very widely accepted here.
Pemuteran occupies a narrow coastal strip not more than 2 or 3 kilometers wide at most. There are wonderful mountain views to one side and the sea on the other. Small and relatively uncommercialised, there are a few, self-contained beach resorts offering bungalow-style accommodation set in lush gardens fronting the beach, a handful of family-run restaurants on the main road and the occasional homestay or bed and breakfast. We arrive without having been able to book ahead (no internet in Munduk and the homestay recommended in Lonely Planet doesn’t answer the phone). So for the first time on our travels, we turn up on spec; to find, of course, that it is full! We try a couple of other places – one is full and the other, far too expensive at £60 a night. Then we happen on a sign for ‘room’ which initially doesn’t look very promising, but turns out to be a delightful bungalow complex set in lovely gardens between the road and the beach. In typical Balinese fashion the enormous teak bed (with firm mattress which is always a plus) is strewn with frangipani flowers and flower arrangements decorate the bedside tables. The room is spacious and open to the rafters. The traditional Balinese shower is also a treat; partially open to the sky, flag stones for the tray surrounded by pebbles from which a large green plant is growing, rough-hewn stone walls and a small, rotund gargoyle which spouts water. All very nice for £16 a night including breakfast and only a stone’s throw from the beach.
Pemuteran is on a long curved bay of grey volcanic sand. Typical Balinese narrow-hulled boats with outriggers dot the bay or a hunched together on the beach. There are several resort restaurants to choose from, but we soon discover that the smaller local restaurants are far better value and the food is just as good. People come here primarily for the diving and snorkeling, particularly off x island 15 kilometers along the coast, and there are a surprising number of dive centres for such a small place.
We stroll along the beach and have lunch overlooking the sea, but by this time I’m feeling completely exhausted and lacking energy; probably due to a cold that is developing (caught, I think, from one of the family in the Ubud homestay) and the sudden increase in heat and humidity. But I’m done for the day and we spend the rest of the afternoon and evening relaxing and reading on our veranda. 

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