Resources
Indonesian Tourist Promotion Board Indonesian Tourism Gateway
Lombok Online
Lonely Planet - Bali
Lonely Planet - Lombok
State Ministry of Tourism & Art

Shooting Stars and Fireflies
and Looking For Donald Duck

Caterers, Royal Wedding, Bali ©R.Johnson

Poor Indonesia.

Indonesia is a gem of a country and Indonesians, aside from the animals who were responsible for Bali bombing, are a great people encompassing many cultures. I have reclined in the back of a riverboat on the equator and gazed at two hemispheres while stars shot and fireflies danced. I met a guy on the street in Bali, once, who invited me to attend a royal wedding. I have found Donald Duck likenesses in town squares, in the windows of houses and on early morning cartoons after Moslem calsl to prayer. I spend a week seeking out the reason and finally came to the conclusion that there was no reason at all...merely that the feisty quacker is just a well-loved character.

What can be said about a country that begins its day with a prayer and a Donald Duck cartoon.

I miss Indonesia and would probably go back tomorrow, if given the opportunity. It is a big country and most regions have been little-effected by recent events, except for a drop in tourism, which is a shame because so many people depend on it for their livlihood.

Listening to Lombok
It is Bali 20 years ago, I was told

I had to see this island in the Indonesian archipelago before it went up in a puff of tourism. Hopped a catamaran from Bali to take a one-day peek.

Lombok is flatter, not as jungly and a bit more rugged than Bali. Its beaches form crescents like white, toothy grins. There are few of the motorbikes and "bemos" that blatter about Bali like mutant insects. While tourism has become Bali's raison d'etre, some of Lombok is still on "island time." Nothing is too urgent or too serious...yet. Muezzins may arouse the faithful five times a daily, but Lombok also has a cult of "three-time Muslims," not-quites who are content with three daily prayers, observe truncated holy periods and share their temple with, heaven forbid, Hindus. The three-timers share a shrine with their Hindu bretheren...stones lined up in rows, like jurors, wrapped with white cloths and yellow temple sashes.

Welcome to Lombok
I landed in the port of Lembar and boarded a transfer bus that I was assured would take me to a place where I could hire a car and driver for the day. I was immediately accosted by a tourguide. I have as much disdain for free-lance tourguides as Mark Twain did. He called them all Ferguson because he couldn't remember their names.

"No, I do not want to go to the monkey forest." I said. I detest monkeys even more than free-lance tourguides: They masturbate in public, they crawl all over you, they bite, they steal sunglasses and cameras. I doubt that the biosphere would collapse if we shot all of the earth's monkeys into orbit.

"No, I don't want to shop for souvenirs, I just want a driver and a car." said the grump.

I turned to a woman seated in front of me who appeared to be listening intently. I asked her if she wanted to share the rental of a car. "No hablo Ingles." she replied. I switched to Spanish and we chattered on. She was from Ibiza, had friends on Lombok and was staying for several days. She suggested that I join them in renting a Jeep. As I only had four hours to get back to the boat, I declined. I turned back to Ferguson who gave me a big, sappy grin. "You stay with her, tonight, she be your concubine?" he asked.

As he didn't have any other takers, we settled on a price for a monkey-free, shopping-free tour of the island.

We drove through unsullied scenes of the tropics. Palms and tropical flowers framing vistas of valleys stretching to the sea. They looked like overdone realistic paintings produced by a master who needed the work. Ferguson pointed to stakes in the ground along the beach. "These are where hotels will go." he said. "All of the big chains." . The Army, I was told by two knowledgable sources, burned down the houses of local residents to make room for "progress."

I told the guide to stop at a particularly grand vista. He pointed to a small hotel positioned just right to take advantage of the view I was to photograph. "Only 30,000 rupiah per night," he said. "Beautiful place to bring your concubine."

He took me to a primitive Sasak village. A villager took me inside of a history house and showed me relics of his ancestors. Nobody tried to sell me anything, nobody screamed "transport?" There were few of the satellite dishes that are sprouting like funguses all over the third world. One imagines families laughing and arguing the night away rather than being slimed to a stupor by western pop culture.

Before the economic crash and all of the hullabaloo in East Timor the Indonesian government was making some strides at balancing tourism with the needs of the people. Tourism, indeed, is one of the few ways rural areas can generate enough capital to survive in a global economy. But pristine places have a capillary action on money...especially now, when there is no money. In Ubud, Bali, when the government halted the construction of new hotels, developers built large single family homes and labelled them "bed and breakfasts."

Lots of those hotels that were staked out are serving visitors, now. I hope mass tourism doesn't too far there...that big money has some sense of the need for balance.