Meno to Tirtagangga to Anturan

So - diary number two was in a box in the attic.  Goodness knows what I was trying to hide - and from whom!

So - jumping quickly backwards before we go forwards again.

New Year was spent in an unexpected location called Tirtaganga.  The journey from the Gills was long and arduous and finished for the night in a hilltop homestay in the pouring rain.  And it seems that its collection of animals (from chickens to porcupines) and its exceptional breakfasts were enough to convince us to stay.  There seemed to be an emerging theme at this point in the diary entries about 'money worries' but they seem to pass a little down the line.

New Year, now the diary reminds me, was spent in a local restaurant and then at the 'village party'.  And impromptu Kecak dance ensued which was followed by the inevitable reggae disco.  We seemed particularly amused that it was only the men who danced, never the women.

The mixing of the drinks and the inclusion of various types of arak resulted in sore heads the next day.  And that coupled with the 'bank holiday' vibe on the Bemos (in case I didn't say, they're minibuses that you squeeze onto (or hang onto) and shout "Girri' ('Stop') when you, indeed, want them to Girri) resulted in some frayed moods.

We found the fabled village of Anturan though.  This was where J had stayed 18 months prior and which had reached such elevated status in my mind (up there with The Beach (not written yet I appreciate)) that we had to stay there.  And indeed we did.  Firstly in a place called Mandhara and then in 'Simons'.   The latter was negotiated by E who's particularities needed accommodating.

The village was, indeed, very welcoming.  We got to know people by name and character.  From Suidi who sold us cigarettes and ice creams and rented us pedal bikes, through to the Austrian woman who rain the beachfront cafe and who'd been there for 2 years and spoke Indonesian to other longstanding Westerners because that was just as good a common language as English.

And many of them remembered J.  They remembered him and his guitar and the places he stayed in.  And that they'd tricked him into eating Dog Sate.  Maybe.