Not Losing the Plot

March 12th: I hop on a Singapore Airlines flight in Paris Charles de Gaulle with a weird feeling of breathless relief. You know the sort of film when the hero jumps onto a leaving train, narrowly escaping a pursuit of villains/police/whatever or reaches safety just as the flood waters/tsunami threaten to carry him off. A sharp exit, last minute, now or never sort of of feel? Yes, that's the one...
The evening of that very day, president Macron requests the first measures of confinement for people over 70 in France. Lockdown is already starting but, to me, the impact of that reality is warped. It is unfolding on a distant screen. What is real is the thrill of a new adventure. I am on a mission, the enthusiastic bearer of an invisible homing device.

I have never been on such an empty plane. A disquieting thought, immediately forgotten at the sight of the free middle rows. Instead of hours of uncomfortable contorsions on an economy seat, I'll be able to stretch and sleep. The petite batik-clothed stewardesses wear masks, as do some passengers. I fish mine out of my bag and dab some eucalyptus oil on it for good measure but the prospect of being smothered for the next 12 hours is not appealing. A young couple sports heavy-duty cover-all contraptions on their face that make them look like giant insects from a bad sci-fi film. Should I be worried?
A vague unease floats in when, upon landing in Lombok, I find an email that my return flight, due at the end of April, has been cancelled.

When I left on my travels, over a year ago, there was the thought at the back of my mind that, maybe, just maybe, I would find a place to call home, a place with a buzz, a place with a friendly community, a place of wondrous nature. But I was in a sweetie shop. Everywhere, there were friends I was going to miss. Everywhere had a special buzz. Everywhere had a special shape of belonging. Everywhere stood out... and nowhere did!

I loved that year of travel, the freedom of following friendship fault lines, so to speak, a series of domino encounters. Last June, one of those led me to an  Eco-neighbourhood in Bali and to Petra. Petra is a hub of sustainable endeavours and projects and offered me the use of a room in her magical house perched by the gorge of the river Petanu.
At hers, I chanced upon Carmen and Bobby who invited me to stay with them in Gili Trawangan, a small island off north west Lombok, where Carmen worked then at the Invest Islands office, just off the beach.

A few months after returning to Europe, I spotted Carmen's facebook post about available land in South Lombok and was charmed by the natural, isolated beauty of this stretch of coast. It felt like a lead well worth exploring.

The view from Batubangke Hill 

But I was wondering... I had my priorities. I didn't wish to be involved in the sort of (expensive) tourist venture that had spoiled so much of Bali's coasts. What about an environment-friendly outlook? Sharing with and helping local communities? Something within my budget? I realised that the Invest islands Foundation had been involved in eco-bricks, into cleaning beaches, was supporting the creation of a woman-led entreprise in South Lombok aiming to sort rubbish and recycle plastic into usable products, ranging from surfing fins to pots and furniture, was also involved into establishing an organic farm in central Lombok, into tree-planting events...

And there also was the small matter of visas, money, regulations, rules and suchlike for living abroad.
There followed a flurry of emails, messages and WhatsApp calls. Carmen, lawyer extraordinaire and great disentangler of administrative jargon made small work of the various convoluted intricacies for owning land in Indonesia. Together, we weeded through a collection of paperwork. I couldn't believe it! It was all possible and it looked like I could afford it...

https://invest-islands.com/our-commitment-to-sustainability/invest-islands-foundation/

An eco-neighbourhood is starting in the Batubangke hills, 15 minutes drive from the sea. Would I like to be part of it? I would be in the company of like-minded people up on that hill. Kevin, Founder and Director of Invest islands and Invest island Foundation, tells me many inspiring tales, about the school the foundation built in the village, about the well that was dug, enabling local farmers to grow two crops of rice per year, about the children's outing they organised to a swimming-pool and cinema.

And the school is now built!

His friend, Nico has already planted on his land enough seeds to attract bees and butterflies, and dragonflies, champion eaters of mosquitoes. He sends me a long list of Latin names and I slide in my suitcase small sachets full of fragrant promises.
Ready to go!

So, here I am, picked up from Zainuddin Abdul Madjid International airport, after a long shuffle through emigration and taken to Hallway homestay,  a cheap and cheerful place, far enough from the centre of Kuta to be peaceful, where chickens peck the garden, roosters salute the dawn, scrawny cats beg for scraps and dogs roam.

Hallway Homestay

We are nearing the end of the rainy season but the heat still swaddles me like a damp cloth. Mist cloaks the bay and black clouds roll in before dark.

Kuta beach before the storm

All is silent. Nature holds its breath. I am hovering in a reflective daze in my room when, suddenly, gusts of wind rattle the palms and a mighty thunderstorm rips the skies. I fall into a long blissful sleep to the roar of a deluge that sweeps clean the lushness of the jungle. It will take me a scrumptious breakfast of pineapple pancake, dragonfruit smoothie and Lombok coffee (with an inch of black mulch at the bottom of the cup) to be restored to complete wakefulness.
I puzzle for a while at the sight of my sandals, all shredded to bits when I catch sight of a dog lying in the shade. his tongue lolling and looking very pleased with himself. In my jet-lagged, befuddled state, I hadn't placed them out of reach...

The invest Islands 4x4 takes me twice to my beautiful plot. We pass the school. The quiet village sizzles under the sun. Well tended cows munch on the roadside.

The big tree on the left is at the bottom of my plot

A path lined with young teaks leads to an expanding vista of hazy cobalt and turquoise in the distance and the overwhelming greens of the rainy season. The land goes down in rice paddies left fallow. We are facing south, a good idea in the southern hemisphere. A much needed soft breeze wafts... There will be a well. A road will be built (it is now, as I write, in progress). The electricity connection is close by. I am swept by the sheer beauty and space of the location, by the spirit behind this project. It's a deal.












With Carmen and Bobby. Selong Belanak bay in the distance

Teaks have very big leaves

The week I spend in Kuta follows a quiet routine. This is not a holiday but it remains leisurely: I read a few more administrative documents, sign a few of them, go through a list of practical questions, organise a bank transfer. I meet the friendly team of Invest-Islands in the centre of Kuta and become a fixture at the restaurant next door, The Hut, where I sample great salads and pasta and spend hours writing in air-con luxury. The owners John and Randi, lend me a bike and offer to give me scooter lessons. I reacquaint myself with the Indonesian easy-going kindness, become aware this is a community that I will be part of and I practise daily my budding Indonesian on Duo Lingo.

                                                                                                                 

In Kuta... Invest islands office and relaxing at 'The Hut' next door

My other haunt is just across the road, at Bamba, a new hostel where I like to sip a cool Bintang (Satu Bintang, Terima Kasih, tiga pulu lima rupiahs) and slide into the pool to cool off. Last but not least, there is a French bakery (there is always one), The Breakery, that makes croissants and, I think, the most delicious coffee I have tasted in Kuta so far. There is much much more, but this is not trip advisor.

Bamba...

   ...and there is much much more...

Lombok means chilli pepper... So beware what you eat! It lies just east of Bali and is roughly the same size but less densely populated and less touristy. There is an otherworldly feel to Bali, a kind of magic, a blend of stunning landscapes and Hindu culture and art that permeates all corners of the island. There is another energy to Lombok.

Here, in Lombok, the wind doesn't carry the smell of incense and the soundscape is cadenced by the call to prayer. Haunting, it rises from all directions in merging waves. But bars continue to serve drinks, little stalls continue to sell sarongs and pineapples, motorbikes continue to rev and whir, quiet huddles of men continue to smoke in the shade. This is not the Islam of the desert. It has the green, languid feel of swaying palms.

Lombok, east of Bali and the big island of Java

Here, in Lombok, nature is still queen and reigns unchallenged in wide areas of wilderness and I am looking forward to exploring more of this, the wild south east populated by fishermen, the little islands with transparent waters off the east coast,  Mount Rinjani, in the north, the second highest volcano in the whole of Indonesia that culminates at more than 3,700 metres. More about all this in the link below!

https://theculturetrip.com/asia/indonesia/articles/11-reasons-why-you-should-visit-lombok-over-bali/

But right now, I am intent in researching different types of housing built in traditional material....
I still think I have a lot of time, you see. But...

Here, in Lombok, I almost manage to keep at bay any thoughts of pandemic but they are lurking at the edge of consciousness like a black cloak. In the course of the week, I catch little snippets of anxiety that spread faster and wider than the Covid-19. Rumours are ramping up, of tourists not being able to return home and visas being extended at a dear price, of cases recorded in Bali -and if they are in Bali, they are here- of airlines prices getting ridiculous, of people being repatriated, of not knowing what is what, wondering about the lack of information... More countries are closing their borders. The virus is rife in Jakarta. It just doesn't feel real.

And how can it feel real? 

I worry, I dither. I just got here, for goodness sake! It doesn't look like such a foolish idea to weather those strange times around here. Ah, but my travel insurance doesn't cover pandemics, of course, the dogs, and would I want to take hospital space and care in a country that hasn't got enough? But why should I return to Europe where the virus is so much more widespread there? Ah, but there is the risk to be stuck here... I come to the conclusion that I have to get back but when?
On and on goes the see-saw.... I know just the remedy and it is to have some leisurely dream time.

Serangan beach

Morgan, a French expat, has just opened a beautiful resort, Segara, with access to Serangan beach, minutes from my plot in the hills. It's a pleasure to share with him, and Gian, another future neighbour, a Pernod at the bar. and celebrate in an incongruous French way, the purchase of my plot...

https://www.segaralombok.com

I eat papaya with lime, laze by the pool with a coffee, walk at the edge of the waves, my feet buried in the soft sand, swim in warm waters, am treated to a stormy light show over the sea, fall asleep to the whisper of the tide in the most beautiful bungalow. I feel privileged (and very spoilt) as the last guest before lockdown.

Here comes the storm

Segara's very happy staff emptying shelves on the last morning before lockdown. Paid holiday!

On my second and last morning in Segara, I wake up to the firm decision to get on with it and book flights.

Tuesday March 24th: So, here I am, back in a very empty Zainuddin Abdul Madjid International airport with suitcase, sanitizer, mask and two very ripe bananas, waiting for my flight to Bali, the first of a few hops...
If all goes well, I should arrive in Paris, by way of Jakarta and Doha, early on Wednesday and on to Brest, Brittany, on the remaining afternoon train.

One of many angels in disguise (you can see their wings if you squint your eyes into the light), John appears at 5h15am with a coffee and a smile. He is driving me to the airport, printed my e-ticket and sent food last night to my hotel in Kuta where I was having a long and intense booking marathon on line, peppered with delays, cancellations, extortionate costs, slow connection with repeated failure of card authorization, mosquitoes, a thunderstorm and a power cut.

But I did what I came here to do: I bought a stunning plot of land and made new friends. Stay safe, all of you lovely people. I hold you in my heart.

I'll come back soon, when the world opens again. My home with follow the lay of the land, climbing down the wide steps of the rice paddies. There will be a screen of bamboo to hide it from the path at the top and the lofty shade of palm trees. Bougainvilliers will fall in grapes of tyrian rose over the porch. Flamboyants will brighten the dry season with their scarlet foliage. I will plant lime, mango and papaya trees... and passion fruit. There will  be ginger and turmeric in the vegetable patch and a separate kitchen with a long table for the gathering of friends. 


Maybe it will look like this...                                   or like this...



                              

maybe like this...

or like this...

or a mixture of all the above...