Ligaya in Indonesia

Teluk Batagulung - Lombok

The south coast of Lombok is spectacular. High cliffs and bold headlands.

We found a large bay near the western end of the island, which offered perfect shelter, and as usual, we had the anchorage to ourselves.

On the west side of the bay was a large oyster farm for pearl oysters.

An extensive framework was supported by polystyrene floats, and from the framework hung literally thousands of small metal cages, each containing about 20 or 30 oysters.

A little to the east of the main anchorage was a small fishing village. As always, there was a row of brightly painted boats pulled up on the beach, and a few getting ready to go out for the day's fishing.

Our arrival had been spotted and there was a group of schoolkids waiting for us in the shade of a large tree.

An older man, perhaps the village headman came to inspect us. He had the air of somebody who had seen it all before.

The school teacher joined us and watched the kids looking at us.

A fisherman too came over to see who had landed on their beach. All the people, young and old, were as fascinated by us s we were by them. It was obvious that few, if any tourists ever find their way to this little corner of Lombok
The village had more gas stations than any place we have seen before. It seemed like that was one at least every 50 meters down the main road.
All of them had the fuel in small bottles for resale. This is a high-class operation as the bottles were glass rather than plastic. Such small quantities are viable, as the only transport we saw in the village were the ubiquitous motor-scooters. We saw very few cars or trucks.

The scooters can carry prodigious loads.

Who needs a truck when you can get this much stuff on a scooter?

East meets West.

This man was obviously fascinated at seeing Caucasians walking down the main street. To him our dress was probably as curious as some of the local women's dresses were to us.

Despite the heat, most of the local women were wearing long skirts and at least mid-length sleeves.

We saw several homemade cement mixers in operation. This was one of the bigger ones, having six barrels being turned by a single motor.

The reason for all the cement being mixed became apparent when we saw the large Mosque being built. I thought it was clever that they were using local labour to supply the concrete rather than trucking in a load of Readymix from somewhere.

All the scaffolding and supports for the concrete was made from bamboo; quite a feat in itself.

One of the less endearing aspects to village life is the cock fighting. At this shop fighting cocks in their baskets were openly for sale.

Everywhere we went, young and old people were fascinated by us.
Even the sea-life appeared to want to look at us. On anchor watch that night, a large seasnake swam up to the stern and spent several minutes with its head of the water staring at me. Almost a bit unnerving!
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