Back to life, back to reality

Kodya, Yogyakarta - With the incessant whirring of the blender, background chatter of other patrons, television blaring out more doom and gloom news as nature fires a broadside at the human race who had failed to take good care of her, I sit amidst the bustle, sipping on a cold blend of berry juice and ponder on the realities of life that has fast closed in on me.

"There's more to life than just this" (or just that, whichever you prefer), I have probably heard that line a thousand times, and honestly have also lost count on the number of times I myself had used it. But with all severity, could there be more to life than just love? Love not only in the romantic sense, but in its entirety, its boundlessness, and what is becoming quite a catch phrase for certain organisations in recent years, "without borders".

A small fluffy brown teddy bear clutching a heart that had the words "Love conquers all" caught my eye the other day as I took a last walk around the local mall before moving off yet again. We truly live in a cliched world, full of cliches that are of our own making. And perhaps, just perhaps, "time will tell" if I was right all along.

The right write

Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia - For a great length of time, I had been thinking about why I actually write. For many, it would probably not serve any meaningful purpose other than for the sheer pleasure of the writer to let thoughts flow into a written (or increasingly in today's world, typed) form, without care or worry who, if any, reads them. Personally, I had never enjoyed writing as a kid, it was an absolute bore to write narrative essays and the like, and without fail, I would pick an argumentative topic if given a choice, believing (misguidedly maybe?) that was where I could excel. As the years pass, and experiences accumulate, that perception has morphed into something a little more unreal. Retrograde aging maybe? But it seems that the powers of imagination have grown that much stronger as opposed to it supposedly being at an almost hyper surreal level during childhood. Hopefully with more regular writing, and a little help from various sources, and more importantly inspiration from the one whom I have come to call my muse, I can start churning out entries and articles that are a little more substantial than mindless musing and more entertaining for the readers here.

That time of the year again

Adisucipto Airport, Yogyakarta - As we go into D-minus countdown to this year's Idul Fitri holidays, once again the transportation networks and hubs of Indonesia, much like the arteries, veins and heart of an extremely unhealthy man bordering on a fatal cardiac seizure, are once again put to severe test as the masses begin to make that, for some, once a year journey back home. For this Singaporean who is fast starting to look and speak (if not already, ha!) like a local, I made myself no exception and joined in the madness to return home for the holidays.

How time flies, it has been almost 3 months since I last saw home, and yet it only just seem like yesterday I was packing to embark on my KKN trip, but yet seem to feel like forever. The whole relativity of time never ceases to amaze me as I reflect on the happenings of (gasp!) the past year. Hey, it IS the coming of the new year right, according to the Islamic calender... But anyway yes, so I was just looking back at the events that had happened since September last year, and I can happily conclude that it has indeed been an excellent year, filled with happiness, new experiences, and perhaps, just perhaps, an entirely new outlook on life.

All good things must come to an end?

Rowo, Petungkriyono - This would probably be the final post (for now) from deep within the mountains as the pull-out date is a little under 48 hours. As I reflect upon the activities and all the programs carried out over the last 7 weeks and type up the summary report, I am acutely reminded of something a senior officer always used to say during course closing ceremonies "Well, I'm sure you all had a good time, but as all good things must come to an end, so must this...". Indeed it has been a good time, and also an extremely enlightening journey of self-discovery in my time here. And as the time to leave draws nearer, there is a certain amount of sadness. Would I be back again? In the past week I had been seriously contemplating on the possibilities of carrying our research work here in future. Perhaps... Perhaps... Perhaps.

That familiar feeling... of being displaced

Kodya, Yogyakarta - With the whirlwind of places to go, people to see, things to hand in, I haven't had the time to write down my thoughts of coming back to Jogja after being in Petungkriyono for some 4 plus weeks or so. Some have asked is it over? I'm at a loss to say "sadly no" or "happily no". After having lived amongst friends and the family that I am lodged with for the past month, deep in a mountainous region, the sensation of coming back to a city is very odd indeed. A sensation that is akin to non-belonging. Of being displaced, once again. On the descent, already I could feel the body struggling to adapt to the hot and humid weather in the lower altitudes, sweating copious amounts. Once back in the room, even the soft bed felt alien and mildly uncomfortable after having made the bench my personal space to rest my tired body each night. And perhaps most importantly, its quite an acute sense of loneliness here. Most of my friends are either on the Social Action Internship Program somewhere, or back in their hometowns for the holidays. After being constantly surrounded by my sub-unit teammates and also the family members that I am lodged with, being alone again in my room was, though something usual in the past, was now quite a foreign feeling. I know now why B had said he missed the place and thought of going back the whole time he was on leave rotation. Perhaps there is a certain allure to living up there, insulated from the outside world. A natural paradise (though certainly not to everyone) buried away deep in the mountains.

A fishy tale

Rowo, Petungkriyono - I had to turn down a very generous serving of fish (which was rare, with the norm being a largely non-meat diet. I avoid using the word vegetarian as some might argue consumption of eggs would disqualify one as vegetarian) at the dinner table yesterday night, not because of how it was cooked, nor was it because of what sort of fish it was, but rather the tale of its tail-end (lame joke!) of its life.

And so it was on that fateful morning that we were involved in an medical emergency, not involving a human, but of a particularly large fish that was kept in the pond at the back of the house. Near-dead, we had attempted to resuscitate it with a variety of means, some of which bordered a little on ludicrous. By now you can probably guess that our efforts couldn't bring the dead back to life. And so it came to dinner time, when our host nonchalantly said that the fish on the plate was the same one from the morning. *gulp*. Somehow after seeing it alive (or was it already dead...) and trying to save it, then subsequently eating it is... well, something I could not stomach. It sounds a little silly, but that's just me. Heh.

A belated thank you 'Cher!

Rowo, Petungkriyono - To all the teachers who have imparted me their wisdom and knowledge over the years, here's a belated thank you to all of you, for over the course of the past week, I have come to experience first hand, just how difficult it is to teach and motivate kids. I had originally intended to write this on the eve of Teacher's Day, but decided that I had better do it before I forget the essence of it. Thus, it is a month early.

It is not all complaints though, for the satisfaction in seeing their interest piqued and subsequently actively participating... it makes all the effort worth it. Language is something that is definitely not easy to teach, especially so when the language that is being taught is not their native language, not their second language, but actually in effect their forth (!) language (Javanese Kromo, Javanese Ngoko, Bahasa Indonesia, then finally English). Hopefully with the few short sessions I have spent with them, I have managed to build up a view that learning language is not a dreary activity of just writing alien words and memorising them, but it can take the form of fun games as well.

The fire never dies

Rowo, Petungkriyono - Semi-squatting on a stool in the semi-darkness of the kitchen lit only by a dust covered fluorescent tube and the flames from the wood stove, it seems that the fire here is kept perpetually alive, providing warmth, and more importantly, keeping a fresh supply of water boiling, and providing the necessary heat to cook the simple but eca cooking by Bu Bahu.

In a flash, it has already been 2 weeks since arriving in Rowo to carry out the Social Action Internship Program, if not for the fact that as sub-unit treasurer I had to keep track of dates to make payment for the living expenditure every fortnightly, I probably would not have bothered to count, nor realise how fast time is flying by. I guess having the days filled with activities (from construction of the simple prototype biogas unit, to having a hand at being a farmer, to being teacher to a whole gaggle of kids) certainly helps in the acceleration of the time spent here.

Life here has also somewhat adapted to the local rhythm of things. Waking up in the mornings to the chorus of crowing, birds chirping, etc, having breakfast together, then splitting up to run our various programs. Construction of the biogas unit has finally reached its apex, with all the physical components completed and now in place, all that is left is to start the process of mixing the cow dung and pouring it into the digester unit and wait 14-21 days to see if all the time, effort, and while not particularly large but is still money spent is worth it after all.

For the sake of our kind sponsors and donors, and also the people here in Rowo, I hope that it is a success.

Initial-P

Rowo, Petungkriyono - Twisting and turning through the mountain passes, I finally arrived at Rowo slightly over a week ago. It is hard to imagine that the number of days that had passed could still be counted with fingers from both hands, it seemed much longer than that.

While still essentially a traditional Javanese village situated high up in the mountains south of Pekalongan, technology had clearly made some in-road into even an area considered remote and isolated. Modern day things like television and to a certain extent mobile cellular coverage exist here. Electricity for Rowo is supplied through two main means, one of which is the national electricity grid (PLN), which has managed to lay power lines to at least this portion of Petungkriyono, and the other being clean-green energy from micro hydro-electric generators that were cobbled together from, I kid you not, scrap motorcycle parts. The village head (Kepala Dusun, or as they call them here, Pak Bahu) whom I am lodged with is exceedingly cordial and warm in hosting the gaggle of university students (i.e Us!) for two months.

Despite the unreliable electricity (Pak Bahu's house along with 8 others are wired up from the micro-hydroelectric generators - thus at the mercy of the flow of water in the river and also strong winds which affect the wires), ice-cold water to bathe in, sleeping on a bench and snuggled in a sleeping bag every night, it is here that perhaps I have truly experienced first hand what is called the "simple pleasures in life". It doesn't matter that the food at the table is the same at almost every meal, the freshness of the vegetables, and not to mention one of the tastiest sambal I've ever sampled, makes certain my stomach is never too far from hunger. Teaching and playing with the local children in the spare time outside of the physical infrastructure improvement programs remind me of something that had been long forgotten, what it was like to truly "just play". It has also made me realise how my viewpoints towards children have changed over the years, and perhaps more so, how it has changed recently.

That is all the time I have at the moment for an online update, so with this, I bid all readers sugeng sonten and hope I can post another one soon.

Inspirasi

I've always wondered why I seem to have the inspiration to write, and not just here on the blog but things in general, only late at night. Words for my thousands-of-words-target papers never seem to be forthcoming with the sun still up in the sky. Of course blogging is even easier with a glass of cold beer and some soul-wrenching music playing in the background. Lately I've been complaining about a lack of motivation to do alot of things, with sleep seeming the only escape from the doldrums that has pervaded just about every aspect of my life. Can it be true? That an artist really needs to be in constant contact with his muse or lose his inspiration entirely.

Truly

Truly (Lionel Ritchie)

Girl, tell me only this
That I have your heart for always
And you want me by your side
Whispering the words
I'll always Love you!
And forever, I will be your lover
and I know if you really care
I will always be there!
Now, I need to tell you this
There's no other Love like your Love
And as long as I live
I'll give you all the joy
My heart and soul can give!
Let me hold you
I need to have you near me
And I feel with you in my arms
This love will last forever!
'Cause I'm truly
Truly in Love with you, girl
I'm truly
Head over heels with your Love
I need you
And with your love I'm free
And truly
You know, you're alright with me!
Truly

Painted white lines

Lines. They mark and divide. But yet people do not necessarily heed them. Stepping over. Or stopping short. The recent "road improvement" efforts here in Jogja city seem to be centered on painting new markings on the roads. Not that it makes the traffic any more orderly, the same reckless overtaking, against the flow of traffic stunts still are a norm. So... what the hell for? This reminds me vaguely of irritating behaviour at train stations with commuters squeezing to get on even before those wanting to get off can exit the carriage. There are lines for sure. But for all intents and purposes, it could be painted on those inconsiderate people's foreheads. They can't see them.

Lines. They don't necessarily have to be physical in nature. Many exist in an imagined reality which only our minds can see. Invisible boundaries. Drawn. Re-drawn. Erased. Drawn again. A never ending process as we negotiate the uncertain pathway that we call life. I wonder when would come a time that a line, wrongly drawn, or not drawn, be the downfall of me.

Insomnia

I can't sleep. Try as I might, the comfort of nothingness just does not take me tonight. Somehow the feeling of loneliness seemed extremely strong, with music not even assuaging it. Looking out the window at the dark city, tiny points of lights left on here and there, the empty deserted streets. If I turned out to be last person alive on this planet, I wouldn't be too surprised. Writing this post on TextEdit made it worse, while I do not profess to be an internet addict, not being able to get a connection at this hour is extremely strange, it's as if the powers that may be have conspired to cut me off from communicating with anyone other than myself. Lately I have been finding myself in situations that I have something to say, yet I bite my tongue to swallow it back. What am I afraid of? This is a question I ask myself now as I reflect on it. Is it because that I have gained so much that I am afraid to lose it all? A high-stakes poker game some might call it, with all your chips riding on straight flush... but even that can be undone by someone else with a royal flush. As good as your cards may seem, there is always that remote possibility that someone will best you. Sigh. It's too early/late to be pondering on such. Sleep does not beckon, but I shall try nonetheless.

Are you afraid?

From the Cape No.7 sound track... a simple but meaningful song.

愛你愛到死

作詞 嚴云農
作曲 呂聖斐
編曲 呂聖斐

Oh Oh Oh
愛你 愛到不怕死 Baby
愛我 請你讓我瘋狂一次

愛是什麼東西 不過就是種遊戲
情是什麼玩意 不就是玩玩而已
Honey Darling Baby 或是叫我小親親
只要哄我高興 冥王星都陪你去

Oh 愛你 愛到不怕死
但你若劈腿 就去死一死

Oh Oh Oh
愛你 愛到不怕死 Baby
愛我 請你讓我瘋狂一次

Progress

A rather interesting discussion on the topic of progress came up recently during a Evolution and Diffusion Theory lecture recently on just what it is. Many definitions were offered, but none seem to be quite satisfactory after being examined from a neutral standpoint. The ideals of civilisation, cities, technology, industry, and such, are they really what makes (or breaks) progress? Or are they in fact just means of enslaving ourselves to a system that hinders it.

Incidentally this particular vein of thought played out on my mind during the pre-KKN survey trip to Petungkriyono over the last weekend. As "backward", isolated, and simple as their lives may be in remote mountain villages, as a people they are no less "civilised" as the city folk, and in more ways than one, I would even dare say much more so in terms of manners and hospitality.

Even though it was but a short survey trip, it has given me plenty to think about in terms of life and what one really wants out from it. The actual 7 week stint there would give me even more time to think about those things...

And suddenly, all was right in the world

Have you ever experienced a moment, where you could be doing anything, when suddenly you have this feeling that everything was just perfect and all was right in the world? A feeling of peace and contentment that wraps around like a warm blanket on a cold windy night, taking away the chill that has pierced clean through to your bones. That you don't want to move or take a breath even, for fear that it would vanish just like that. Playing and replaying it in your mind's eye to immortalise it forever in your memory.

Is this a die-hard romantic kind of thing? Hmmm.

One in a million

I had never been lucky in lottery before. But that don't matter to me. Because I was lucky just this once.


One in a Million - Larry Graham

Love had played its games on me so long
I started to believe I'd never find anyone
Doubt had tried to convince me to give in, said, "You can't win"
But one day the sun came a shining through
The rain had stopped and the skies were blue
And oh, what a revelation to see
Someone was saying "I love you" to me

A one in a million chance of a lifetime
And life showed compassion
And sent to me a stroke of love called "You"
A one in a million you

I was a lonely man with empty arms to fill
Then I found a piece of happiness to call my own
And life is worth living again
For to love you to me is to live

A one in a million chance of a lifetime
And life showed compassion
And sent to me a stroke of love called "You"
A one in a million you
A one in a million chance of a lifetime
And life showed compassion
And sent to me a stroke of love called "You"
One in a million you
A one in a million you

Faded memories

Have you ever dug deep into the deeper recesses of your mind and realise that there are some things that no matter how hard you try to recall, you can't seem to be able to? Yet some, though easily a decade or more ago, remain as clear and detailed like it was just a couple of hours ago.

I'm starting to think that perhaps these are memories that may have been consciously (or sub-consciously) held on and kept alive by oneself. And sometimes it becomes terrifying that as much as you have been trying to keep the memory fresh and alive, it is slowly but surely fading away, and you don't want it to happen. Maybe this is the confusion faced by sufferers of Alzheimer's disease. Where the past is but a hazy blur.

If my memory could be presented as hard disk drive sectors, it would probably be one that would appear to be in dire need of defragmentation. With so many old memories having disappeared over time, some faded, some forcibly deleted, and new ones being added in all the time. I would like it very much to be optimised to storing new memories.

It's been barely 6 weeks, counting back, but yet it has somehow seemed way longer than that. How had that been possible, I frequently ask myself. Yet no answer comes to mind. Is this what they call "a real connection"?

Time really is a funny thing.

Home is where...

I might have said this before, but I really am not able to remember for sure. Just where is "home" nowadays. Is it, like they say, where you hang your hat? Or is it where your loyalties are? Or is it where your heart is? Or is it...

The truth is that it is all those things, and probably even more. I've never quite considered here to be "home", though it certainly has been quite awhile... and my body has long since found the bed back in SG to be rather alien, only getting a good night's rest when I eventually get back here to Jogja. Living out of a 1 bedroom (not to mention also luggage that is never really fully unpacked) sort of grows on me.

Catching a flight used to be bring much anticipation because it would mean a holiday of some sort. Not that it isn't now, but it has become something akin to taking a bus.

I certainly look forward to the day when I catch that final flight back to a place called home, and re-plant my roots there once again. I miss it.

The Eastern Wanderer

36 hours after having returned from my very first foray eastwards to a place already plenty visited by people from all over the globe, sitting in a cafe typing this, it feels a wee bit like I had never really left at all. But yes, type I must, for it has been quite awhile since the last time I did this...

"Mohon perhatian, para penumpang Garuda Indonesia penerbangan GA254 tujuan Denpasar...", the voice announced, breaking me from my reverie as I gathered up my stuff and made my way to the boarding gate. After such a long time in Indonesia, it had seemed quite unthinkable that I had never visited the famed tourist destination which was Bali, but here I was, finally making that maiden visit.

Opting to skip the overly touristy region of the many beaches which include Kuta, Legian, Seminyak, etc that make up the southern portion of Bali island, my first destination after stepping off the plane was to Padangbai. A nice little town on the eastern side of Bali which in the past was a sleepy little fishing village, now slightly transformed by tourism as it has drawn a sizable number of scuba enthusiasts owing to the magnificent coral formations, marine life, and clear waters. Five-star tourist destination it is not, but it certainly is a good place to base yourself if you like to dive, other than the excellent sites immediately in the vicinity, it also is a convenient place to launch trips further to Tulamben, Nusa Lembongan and Nusa Penida.

In line with its main attraction, is it of any great surprise that it is here that I will begin my virgin exploration of the underwater world. Signing up with Geko Dive (one of the older dive establishments here in Padangbai, which by now have several, e.g. Absolute Dive, Waterworxx, Q-Dive, just to name a few), I spent 6 glorious days in the waters off Padangbai slowly discovering what I soon started to find was becoming an addiction. An addiction to diving! And what my instructor Irene said really rang true, that no matter how many times you dive, even in the same location, the novelty never wears off, there is always something new to see. This coming from someone who has clocked some 900+ dives in the waters of Padangbai alone, it can't be very far from the truth.

The best thing I like about such locations for a holiday is that there is just that right amount of balance between a little bit of creature comfort, local culture, food, etc. I grew up in a big city. Going to yet another big city for a holiday would surely bore me to tears. Places like these are right up my alley for what I would term a holiday.

As the saying goes, time flies while you are having fun, and this was certainly true as I boarded the slow ferry to cross over to Lombok for part two of my trip. In the blink of an eye, a week had flitted by. Having done 9 dives, plenty of theory in between, interspersed with exploratory walks and some photo taking in the area around the bay area, sampling the local food, etc, it was time for me to bid farewell to Padangbai (for now, for I would be passing by again for part three, but more on that later).

The slow ferries run on a 1.5 hourly interval, departing Padangbai for Lembar harbour on Lombok with the crossing taking some 4~4.5 hours depending on the conditions at sea. Perama has a direct boat that runs between Padangbai and Senggigi (more on that later. I took it for my return journey), taking 4 hours. And finally the most expensive of the many options are the speedboats that run directly to the Gili islands from Padangbai, taking only a mere 1.5 hours.

Sitting on the top deck of the ferry during the long journey was actually pretty pleasant, with both sheltered and open-air areas to park your bottom. Many of the caucasian tourists took the opportunity to sunbathe during the long crossing, well cooked lobsters they were! Me? I found a nice shaded spot with the sea breeze coming in, and just made myself comfortable and did some thinking. I had much to think about and reflect in fact, not so much about trials and tribulations, but about what had transpired in the past 2 months or so. Oh how much things have changed, and I had found myself in that strangely familiar yet foreign, though certainly welcome, sensation of being in love again. Close friends have certainly marveled at how things have progressed, and frankly, so have I. But yet there is no real feeling that we are rushing things. Perhaps there is reason to be suitably optimistic as we make plans and take steps to make that uncertain future a little bit clearer to us. For that, I am glad. To know that we're both putting in effort to make things work out, maintaining a long distance relationship is certainly not an easy task, much less a relationship that actually started as such, although there are certainly some quarters what would say that it is actually easier to transit from "not being there" to "being there" than the other way round, but the reality of things is that, there is no right answer. Every scenario is unique. But at least with some sort of plan, there is some sense of direction for us.

A short blast of the ship's horn alerted me to the fact that land was in sight, but any hope that I harboured (pun intended) that this long journey on the sea was coming to an end was going to be sorely misplaced as we got closer to Lembar harbour. Apparently there were some construction works going on at the docks, leading to a massive "traffic jam" of sorts with three or four ferries just aimlessly floating around awaiting their turn to disgorge their loads on the pier. By the time I finally set foot on Lombok's ground, I had been on the ferry for almost 6 hours, and I was not even close to my eventual destination of Senggigi yet. From Lembar harbour it was about another hour by shuttle bus before I finally strode into the huge walled grounds of Senggigi Beach Hotel.

Located right on the frontage of the main beach in central Senggigi, the hotel is certainly very nicely located. Perhaps even more so then the other big resort (which I forgot the name of) in central Senggigi. Of course, heading further up north you will find the huge international hotel chains, but they're not really the kind of accommodation I was looking for (or afford). With a wide variety of rooms, from beachfront bungalows to villas, Senggigi Beach Hotel certainly caters to a wide variety of customers. While not fantastically beautiful, it was certainly a very nice place to relax in. Restaurant and bars within the hotel's grounds were also diverse and good enough to keep one within the resort's grounds with no real need to head outside.

Exploring the area around in central Senggigi didn't seem to turn up anything "happening" by any standards. There appears to be a couple of small bars and what looked vaguely like a disco, but suffice to say it wasn't good enough to entice me to come out again at night to give them another look-over. I was pretty contented with just lazing by the beach on a deck chair, listening to the rolling sound of the waves. Did I mention the waves? They were just about right if one is a complete newbie and wish to learn. Watching the local kids riding the surf, I was almost tempted to give it a go. With the beach facing westwards, it was really an ideal location to view sunsets from, although luck and weather was not on my side. If the weather was clear, we could supposedly see the majestic Gunung Agung on Bali from here!

Plenty of dive operators could be found here in Senggigi, but they are mostly satellite offices for the main ones on the Gili islands. About an hour north of Senggigi. If one likes to stay in comfy resorts, then this would definitely be the option to take. Staying in Senggigi, then doing day-trip dives up in Gili. Because the accommodation options there are much simpler. But for me, if there is going to be an intention to dive in Lombok, I would definitely opt to head straight to Gili by the speedboats from Padangbai. The hassles involved in getting to and fro from Bali to Lombok is one I could do without.

Fed-up with the delays that involve the ferry crossing, I decided to give Perama (a bigscale tourism transport solution company here in Indonesia) a go. I could not have possibly made a poorer decision than this for my whole holiday. Shock number one came when I was led to beach instead of a pier. Shock number two came when I was instructed to remove my shoes and roll up my pants! Apparently we had to wade into the water a little bit to climb onto a small boat which would bring us to the Perama boat that was anchored further out. Notice that I had mentioned "boat" and not "ship". The Perama vessel was pretty small.. .about 25~30m in length. Getting on, I knew I was going to be in for one hell of a ride across the choppy sea, and boy was I right, having the passenger area right up near the bow didn't help any. Alternating between struggling to keep my breakfast in and looking at my watch, I somehow miraculously survived 4 hours without upchucking. Seeing a pod of dolphins and some flying fishes along the way helped somewhat I suppose, but the nausea made it rather difficult to enjoy the experience. Not having been seasick before, this was a totally new (and unwelcome!) experience. I guess I will put up with longer journey times and take the slow ferry in future, not to mention it being significantly cheaper, coming in at slightly less than a third of the cost of a Perama ticket.

Stepping on terra firma once again at Padangbai, I could have kissed the ground. Bus transfer to Ubud was straightforward enough, with me arriving in the cultural heart of Bali after slightly over an hour. The influence of tourism had not escaped my notice with the heavy traffic choking up much of the narrow roads here, and also the multi-national crowd that walked up and down the streets of Ubud. Comparing one cultural center with another, Ubud certainly has much more appeal than Jogja. Not only in terms of catering to the international tourist trade, but also the scenes and sights on offer. One can't help but realise why Jogja has bemoaned lack of growth and development in comparison to Bali. Without the right amount of supporting infrastructure, it just wasn't going to happen. Hopping onto an ojek (that's a scooter-taxi for the uninitiated), we zipped through the traffic from the Perama office in Ubud to my hotel, Champlung Sari, which was nicely situated just a stone's throw away from the famed Monkey Forest of Ubud. At S$89 a night, I must say the rooms at Champlung Sari were remarkably good value for money. Though a far cry from the luxurious villas offered elsewhere, it was clean and comfy. It also featured a rather interesting layout with the bed right smack in the center of the room, meaning you can actually walk around all 4 sides of the bed.

Walking down the main streets of Ubud, I realise one thing, that I have to come back here again. There are so many things to see that my extremely short one night stay here could not possibly be sufficient. Beyond that, there were also a wide variety of knick-knacks and artwork on sale that would look great in a home (once I get one of my own that is). In a way that could be a highlight for me, would be meeting up with Jo and Charles for dinner. Imagine that. Some 2000km from home and with some stroke of luck, our schedules coincided right here in Ubud. It was also quite a different way to spend CNY as compared to previous years, away from home but yet in the company of friends. Nice though.

Running out of things to say already... but to sum it up, Bali again in future? Definitely. Lombok? Maybe.