After a few days of moving as fast as a tortoise from bed to beach sun lounger on Gili T, my inbuilt walk-o-meter was getting twitchy. Not just to lope along to limber up my limbs but to take a good gander at the new hood, Kuta Lombok. I’m a nosey parker, I like to look around, observe. But everyone in KL travels by scooter, even for short short trips. Quick and convenient, but for me my focus when charging about on my scooby was avoiding dying by-oncoming-white-line-straddling vehicle, not drinking in the surrounding visuals.
It’s a writer’s tic, observing place, people, animals, smells, sounds. I know I crave it. At the recent kid lit Hui, author Mandy Hager referenced ‘paying attention’ in her keynote. And interestingly as she stated, if you are paying attention on one particular thing, say whales or dogs, suddenly all you see are dogs. There are a lot of dogs on the streets and beaches of Lombok*.
One morning, I announced I was going to walk to the moneychanger, my host was aghast. It’s miles away! She exclaimed as she backed her scooter out of the corral. Scurity advised, it will take you seven minutes. I’d already coffeed at the local French Bakery where my Eat Pray Bali cleanse faltered somewhat as I breakfasted on Nutella croissants and full UHT milk flat whites, instead of acai bowels with fresh mango and coconut shavings, while I typed on my laptop like the cliched white middle-aged lady writer in a café typing on her laptop, that I was (and loving every minute of it.)
It was nine o clock, the sun already hot. I should have taken a hat. And a thick stick.
With eyes peeled, pearls on, I checked the time, clutched my handbag and set off. Deep pink Bougainvillea spilled over walls and bobbed hello but the narrow lane was empty of humans, except me. Disturbingly, the first mammal I spied was a dead blonde dog in a monsoon drain. I looked swiftly away and did not breath. It seemed a bad omen. Wild dogs roam the streets here in packs. They are probably good guard dogs and for the most part seem well fed from scavenging. Muslims are afraid of dogs. Curiously the population is largely Muslim.
One of the cool things about the Kuta Lombok township is the way the gated guest homes pop up in front and in between the local Sasak houses and farmyards. I saw a woman on her haunches chucking corn in the shade of a low wooden bungalow, its supports covered in coconuts like gold balloons might at a kitsch wedding. The adjacent field grazed plump chestnut cows and calves flicking at lazy flies. Smiling school aged kids chased chickens or ground their nuts to paste on bikes with ridiculously high seats around dirt yards. One of the uncool things is how leaves and fallen vegetations are swept daily into piles under splendid trees, then set alight. Only any old, single-use plastic packaging ends up on the pyre too and an acrid smoke and a fine ash rains down.
Seven minutes exactly later, I was the only customer at the money changer. He pointed to the rate on a board made with plastic numerals. It could have been last weeks for all I knew. I left with my cross body, Deadly Ponies stuffed with wads of Indo rupiah (approx. 1 million equals 100 NZD.) Funny red money, until it runs out.
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| Anyone game to describe this fine specimen please do so in the comments! |
I saw:
+A crazy looking flower. A sort of white petunia on a red ginger plant
+An empty looking backpackers offering build-your-own breakfast plate. The photo of the banana fringed acai bowl on the vinyl hoarding tied to the wall looked healthy, tempting! But the fact the place looked like it had been bereft of customers since 2018 did not.
+I tried to photograph the intricate choreography of two crimson red butterflies but failed.
Soon after, three ash blond dogs strutted out to greet me. A bitch, a boy, a bitch. Short, curved tails in the air, puckered pink brown stars winking. The most threatening of sphincter cyclopes. My heart sunk into my toe sandal, I thought jaysus these dogs mean business. They were at least twice the size of your usual four legged Lombok local. Dogs are territorial, they do things to foreign invaders and walkers are pretty much foreign invaders in these parts. Fuck me I hope they don’t show me who’s head honcho here, and bite. I increased my pace. They increased theirs. I worried for rabies (humans die from rabies.) Errant ticks. The dog intent on sticking to my heels sniffed the tender backs of my knees and growled. I squirmed but kept my cool. I did not know fuck-off in Indonesian and they did not understand my politely feeble English, ‘shoo’. Your cool. I did not look them in the eye or break into a run. I’ve been bitten by a Rottweiler before, I know dog bites.
When a fourth, same-sized but ginger dog, shackles raised, appeared at the next alleyway, I thought shit a brick – dog fight. But my posse kept their calm! So I decided the best way to handle this intense canine situation was to treat my furry outriders as my boss as scurity trio. My heavies. We moved on, the ginge backed off. My trio were certainly in for the long haul, little buggers they can smell a bread-buying-woman a mile off. They followed me all the way to the French bakery turn-off, then they winked and bailed. It wasn’t their turf. They were just escorting me to buy a baguette all along. Sending it. I did not receive a tendon crushing bite around my ankles and need to go to hospital for a rabies shot (not actually available in Bali although rabies is.)
I turned for home.
I saw:
+Another kid on a bike (grinding his nuts into a butter)
+Two brothers eating lollies who said hello and didn’t ask for money
+Two fancy pants cocky-tailed roosters, one white, one green, and their lady hens
+A grey striped cat on a stone wall with the correct length tail, long
+Three durian high in a durian tree
+A kid on a stoop with a black kitten
+A pink frangipani tree smelling so sweet
I was back at the Villa Caroline, sweaty but rabies free. Loaded with cash. Ready for a bready breakfast with nut butter, and a trip to the beach with my girl gang on my red scooter.
*There is an organisation working to improve the lives of Kuta Lombok dogs. They welcome donations for their Sterilisation Programme
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