Cheng and I sneaked out to the beach for another sunrise appreciation, thanks to the prayer call again. The orange sky was less cloudy and the gentle surge of sun over the horizontal was vividly captured in my camera. It was smoothing to listen casually to the waves periodically splashing onto the shore. We detected a coin-sized hermit crab crawling onto the sand. When it sensed our curiosity, it shrunk into its tiny refugee. Cheng picked it up to reveal its body again. It was a small lesson to understand that wonders of nature can not only be as grand as Mount Rinjani, but also as minute as a crawling crab.

Sunrise beside Mt Rinjani

We had enough of Gili Trawangan, so this day we checked out from Blue Beach Cottage and bid farewells to the staffs and their babies. At the jetty where we boarded on the Perama boat, we giggled over the words printed on a souvenir t-shirt wore by a Asian tourist: "Terrorism can't stop me. Osama don't surf." Well said! The one-hour boat ride ended at Bangsal Harbour from where we walked along the padi field to the bus stop. We separated and got into two non air-con buses heading towards Perama office at Senggigi.

Lined with hotels, restaurants and shops along the main road of six km, Senggigi was supposed to be the most developed tourist area in Lombok. However, the town was least populated with tourists due to multiple impacts from the recent economic recession, Bali Bombing and presidential election. Everywhere looked abandoned and quiet. It was irritating that every time a van or bemo driver found us walking along the road, he honked at us and asked, "Transport?". After we had exchanged for currency at attractive rate in a shop, we strolled along the shoreline for one kilometre to Pura Batu Bolong. It was a small Balinese temple jutted on a rocky cliff into the sea, providing a vast view of Senggigi outline and sea dotted with sailing boats. Before entering the holy area, we were obliged to wear the traditional sash and give some donation. Our visit was shortened by the quest of a decent lunch, so we journeyed to the far end of Senggigi and tasted at Asmara Restaurant. Decorated exquisitely in Balinese style, it was recommended by Lonely Planet as the best restaurant, turned out to be an expensive one too. Since there were a few more hours left before the Perama bus left to Mataram at four, we loitered boringly around the neglected town and shopped at Chinese minimart and Balinese furniture shops. Soon we rested on a cafe to quench thirst while Isaac and I had a even match on the pool table.

Outside the doorstep, our breakfast of hot drinks and sandwiches were served on the table in between which we sat leisurely on cane armchairs. This day was to tour around the city area. The moment we arrived at the main road, three or four yellow bemos immediately appeared without hailing. The drivers were eager to snatch over our business. A middle-aged driver agreed upon our price of two-way return trip to Gunung Pengsong. However once he brought us to the destination, he claimed that the price was only for one direction. Personally, he seemed out to cheat on us, rather than misunderstanding our agreement in English. There was no other vehicles within sight and the place was 9 km south of Mataram. We agreed to his 'new clause', providing he came back to pick us up three hour later.

Gunung Pengsong was merely a small hill. Its entrance led to an open hall of simple shelters and pebble staircase. A tanned, thin and curly-haired caretaker guided us up a flight of concrete stairs to the hilltop. We ascended up some rock face before reaching a Balinese temple perched on top of Pengsong. Fenced around by red bricks, the small temple comprised of three tabloids to worship three mountains including Mt Rinjani. Some devotees had already arrived there to make their offerings upon which a plenty of monkeys were eyeing. A monkey even unzipped Michael's bag and stole away a bag of tibits. When we tried to stop another monkey doing likewise, it even gleamed its teeth as a sign of confrontation. The caretaker threw small stones to shoo away those monkeys, unhurted. Surrounded by these primates, we ignored of their existence and admired the overview of padi field and sea horizon. Regretfully, Mt Rinjani was no where to be seen as the cloud had enveloped it.

The journey to and fro Gunung Pengsong was less than two hours. We tipped the caretaker and waited impatiently for the bemo. A local approached us and chat with us, trying to lure us into his van at a fee. Although our early intention was to wait for the same bemo, Bing persuaded us to have our little revenge upon the cheating driver by taking another vehicle instead. However, when we were speeding off along the road, the bemo driver saw us, halted and waved at us to come back. We laughed away, out of a little guilt added with attaining revenge.

We tasked the van driver to bring us to Suranadi. Though he claimed to know the place, he constantly looked at the map for direction while driving. Luckily his sense of direction did not fail him and we reached at the small village in an hour. A group of juveniles approached us, eager to sell their tickets of admission to a forest sanctuary. We walked away because we had seen enough of forest in Mt Rinjani. Our objective to come here was to visit Pura Surandi. It was a holy temple under renovation, ornated with Balinese carvings. Three holy men, clad in white, sat together on a small shelter to practise their religions by chantings and ringing bells in rhythm. There were two round ponds where a holy eel stayed. The holy men informed us that depended on fate, it might be baited out by chicken eggs. We did not test our luck to see the eel. Outside the temple, the village was bustling with hawker stalls selling fresh fruits and satays. Women squatted in a row, each fanning bunch of satay sticks over a small steaming charcoal box. After shopping for some fruit sweets, we took our sumptuous lunch at a local restaurant.

Narmada Water Palace

We walked along the road, wishing for someone to offer a transport. Not long enough, Anma, a guy in his early 30 with good English command, showed up in his nice mini-truck. After a price bargain, we took his truck to Narmada Water Palace. Narmada was once the past king's summer resort. A guide narrated that its terraced hill was a miniature of Mount Rinjani and its adjacent pool was that of the crater lake. I did not see any resemblances, assuming that they were more of symbolic models to the king rather than true duplicates. At the top of the hill was a temple surrounded by Balinese deity figures. The palace, even though was not awesome, still recalled the past glamour of Balinese kingdoms.

Next, Anma brought us to Pura Lingsar, a unique temple contained both Bali Hindus and Wektu Telu religions at two different levels. Wearing a sash and giving a donation were the rules to enter the holy place. At a pond where a holy eel resided, there was a statue of Lord Vishnu. A row of sacred rocks extracted from Mt Rinjani was wrapped in yellow clothes and displayed for worshiping. Lingsar appeared abandoned with stone statues of wear-off indistinctive faces. There were very few tourists around. By the time we finished touring the place, we had enough of temples and went back to our hotel. We bid farewell to Anma and praised for his services.

In the late afternoon, Cheng had stomach upset, most probably due to unhygienic dishes in our recent lunch. She felt so weak that she forsake going out for dinner. I stayed with her while asking the rest to get some food outside for me. After consuming immodium pills, she took a decent nap and recovered slowly. While she was sleeping, I sneaked out and had a long conversation with the rest until two.

Wet Market

Our departure from Lombok was this evening, the day before Indonesian Independent Day. Hence we had a few more hours to sparse for furthur sight-seeing in Mataram, though our expectation of seeing something fascinating was low. There was no problem in getting a transportation. We simply stood on the roadside, looking foreign and the attentions were ours. Searching for the Lombok lifestyle, we headed to a large wet market near the Mandalika bus terminal. We told the driver to drop us at the bus terminal. When he overheard our conversation and understood we actually wished to go otherwise, he offered us a generous lift directly to the market without extra charge. The market was bustling with trades, selling spices, salt fish, stacks of chicken eggs, etc. The narrow passageway was sheltered with red canvas, along which every person has to waggle the way through with other motor bikes and horse carts. The stall sellers were friendly, attempting to break the ice with us foreigners. However, there was this curly-haired man, speaking reasonable English, acted like a guide by following us closely, chatting with us and persistently persuading us to go to his uncle's sarong shop. We looked indifferent to his existence, but he kept tailing us to the end in a harmeless way. When we hailed another bemo to Mayura Water Palace within the city premise, we accidentally met the driver whom we missed his appointment at Gunung Pengsong. He recognized us and smiled back, presumably not being furious over us.

Mayura Water Palace, was used to be the courtyard of Balinese king. It dominating feature was a square lake in the middle erected a pavilion. Not far from it was the three towering multi-tier shrines of Pura Meru. Bing and Cheng, lacking the interest of exploring the vicinity, preferred to sit under a pavilion instead, while the guys made only a very short trip. It was time to have lunch at Mataram Mall, not more than one kilometre away. We negotiated for a low price to a bemo driver for taking a short distance. However, I was puzzled that he made lot of turns. At the mall, he broke his promise, cried out for more money, saying that the price agreed upon was only for two persons. I had a heated argument with him and finally gave another 2000 rupiah to buzz him off. I had two choices; one was to become grumbling and less friendly by citing his example and make my remaining day turned bad, or another was to forgive him in the belief that there were kind souls (like the early driver who brought us to the market and the helpful hotel staff who was responsive to our petite needs) as well as rotten apples, and still maintain cheerful and positive. In the principal of attaining good travel spirit, I chose the latter.

We patronized the food court at Mataram Hall due to its cheap, delicious food. Then we rested back at the hotel, packed up for departure. When we walked out of hotel for ever, a man came crossed the street pushing his tricycle modified to carry selling ice-cream. The rhythmic melody he broadcast was to attract customer. Perhaps, the message, hidden in between the tones, was to bid farewell and hope that we had a good times in Lombok. We did...

What we feared most which jeopardized our trip happened two months after we came back to Singapore -- eruption in Mt Rinjani, more specifically Gunung Baru in October 2004!!! As quoted from Southwest Volcano Research Centre:

Rinjani Eruption

"As of the 14th of October, the Volcanological Society of Indonesia (VSI) reported that an eruption occurred at Rinjani on 1 October at 1730h following an increase in seismicity that began on 5 September (0-7 earthquakes occurred per day). DVGHM raised the Alert Level to 3 (on a scale of 1-4) or Orange. During 2-4 October, explosions produced thick gray ash plumes to heights of ~300-800 m above the post-caldera cone, Barujari. The explosions occurred on the NE slope of Barujari cone every 5 to 160 minutes. Seismicity was dominated by explosion earthquakes."

All hiking within the terrain was banned onwards. We really ought to count ourselves lucky and had quite a narrow escape to be the one of few last groups to conquest Mt Rinjani safely months before the eruption. I wish that the rupture would subside soon and people are able to appreciate this awesome landscape once again.