inspired in indonesia: PART III: new airports, bad djs, and good friends

A 30-minute flight from Denpasar and we safely landed at Lombok’s new international airport. So new, in fact, that up until the point we touched down I thought we were flying to the old airport- in a different city- erroneously reassured by the destination printed on our tickets. After a moment of panic as I tried to confirm where we’d actually be meeting the two Nishas and Travis who would be flying in from Surabaya in a few hours, we sat down on the virtually deserted airport floor to pass the time playing cards. Three tall fair-haired girls shuffling and dealing was apparently the most entertaining thing the airport staff had seen in awhile, and in next to no time we were surrounded by an audience of 20+ airport drivers, travel coordinators, and security personnel clad in military garb giving us game advice while simultaneously trying to figure out the rules. Needing a break from cigarette smoke and propositions of matrimony, I scooted to the outskirts of the pack and naturally struck up a conversation with the only two people under the age of 20- two sixth grade boys whose parents were working in the adjacent fields. Before Indonesia I was never the person to approach kids and start up an educational dialogue, but I find myself doing it regularly here; on buses, beaches, and, apparently, airport floors. I can’t pass up the opportunity for a student to modestly show off his/her English skills by diffidently spewing out the numbers 1-10 or passing my colors quiz. I love the unpretentious smiles that cross their faces when they can answer what their name is or what class they’re in. I’m not sure I could be a career teacher, but I’m convinced that there will always be a little piece of me that appreciates an impromptu lesson.

Hanging Out at the Airport While Their Parents Work in the Field

As the sun set on the Bali Sea and all of its island dwellers, we glided over the turbulent waves to the tiny island of Gili Trawangan. Notorious for its party reputation and international SCUBA status, we figured it would be an ideal place to spend the New Year while half of us got dive certified. The days and nights leading up to 2012 were spent lazing about with only minor intervals of physical activity. We rented bikes the first day and journeyed most of the way around the small island until the sand became too wearisome to pedal through. That same evening Ashley and I rode over to the western side of the island to watch the equatorial sun descend behind the infamous Balinese mountain we had conquered just days before. Well, Ashley conquered, I stumbled down. After seeing it across miles of sea, I began to take more pride and express less resentment towards our prior feat- that was a big pile of rocks that we climbed!

Ashley Watching the Sun Set Over Bali

Early Morning Boats and Clouds

Another afternoon was spent snorkeling off a boat in between the other minuscule Gili islands then grabbing a noontime bite to eat on the practically uninhabited Gili Air. On a few occasions we also managed to make our way down to the rocky beach- the result of broken coral washing up on shore due to flawed tourism practices. I’m neither excluding myself, nor claiming to be an ecological expert, but I did try to minimize the impact I was having on the surrounding aquatic environment. Although there are reconstructive measures taking place to help restore the adjoining reefs, there is still a lot of room to educate both tourists and locals about ways to help prevent further devastation of the contiguous coral and marine life.

Waiting for Lunch on Gili Air

Broken Coral Beach

Boats Down at the Beach

And, as happens most years, another 365 days had inconspicuously passed and we found ourselves counting down the hours then the minutes to 2012. While enjoying the last moments of 2011, we were subjected to, unarguably, the worst DJ ever. That didn’t stop my fabulous friends and I from having a blast on the dance floor- a true testament to how amazing the people I surround myself with are. One may wonder why we didn’t leave the appalling music (I’m talking “Ice, Ice Baby” and “U Can’t Touch This”) and I answer with this: the inebriated horde of exceedingly underage locals blocking the street made it nearly impossible to change locales without getting groped and gawked at. I like to think I’m a fairly tolerant person, but even sweet little Nisha was ready to throw down in an attempt to defend her personal space. I’m glad we had our token boys with us, but if truth be told, I’d rather Nisha had my back any day of the week. Even with the temporary off-putting vibes surrounding the mob, New Years Eve 2012 will forever be one for the memory books. Front row, beachside seats to a spectacular fireworks show shimmering back in the waves before us. A post-midnight swim in the warm ocean water. And fully grasping, yet once again, that this is my life and I am one lucky girl.