Day 6: Lombok
Training day. Up early, 6:30 a.m., with the aim of running along the beach. Unsuccessful. The tide was in, leaving me little space to run, and the tight slope plus the softness of the sand made the task impossible. I gave up and ran along the road towards Senggigi instead. I turned it into an interval session, lasting 10km, which I was pretty happy with. I think I passed more goats than people on my journey.
Do you know what is so good but so bad for you? Buffets. I love buffets, really love them, but afterwards I curse them for hours for leaving me thinking that death would be a preferable option. I quickly forget these negative thoughts once I've recovered though, and I eagerly await the next one. Our resort offered a massive buffet breakfast, and I went nuts. Both Asian and Western foods were on offer, including brown bread (I didn't think they knew what it was), Vegemite (I wonder where most of their guests come from) and a made to order omelette station. I think I ate continuously for an hour. I have no self-control.
Once the familiar I'm-going-to-explode feeling had subsided a little, we hired a scooter and rode into Senggigi. We quickly visited the grey sand beach, watching the local families setting up picnics (I couldn't look at the food) while the kids played in the water. Rubbish and touts abounded, putting us off spending any time there.
The beach at the resort was much nicer than the one in town.
We strolled along the main street when everything was open, not having the chance to do so the first time we were here. Other than a couple of clothing stores, it was mostly tour offices and eateries. With not much to do we stopped at a restaurant for wine and lunch. How (and why) we fit more food in I will never understand. Holidays are about over-indulgence, right?
The afternoon was spent like yesterday's at the resort, hopping between the beach, the sand, the pool/bar, and our room. From our front porch we sipped self-prepared vodka, lime and tonics, using ingredients we bought in Ubud. We stared mindlessly at the small waves crashing on the beach, thinking that there was no better place on earth right now.
There were multiple visits to the pool bar.
We decided to skip the expensive resort restaurant for dinner and instead head back to Senggigi. We started with a few drinks, including a Balinese cider (horrible), and a red rice wine. It was served icy cold and tasted much nicer than I was expecting. We walked past one of the several shack-cum-restaurants, with an ice bath of fresh seafood out the front. This was the last place I would have chosen to eat, but Danny had his heart set on it. He selected his dinner and the chefs cooked it fresh on the barbecue, which was also on street with the fish. Danny chatted to the staff for an eternity, probably hoping to get a job so he could leave his kitchen behind in Australia and live the chilled out lifestyle that islands are famous for. Just as Danny finished all his courses a cover band started up. It felt rude to leave so we stayed for a singalong, thankful I had drunk enough alcohol by then not to care what my voice sounded like.
I ended up eating a veggie enchilada back at the hotel. Danny, having already eaten, downed two cocktails instead. The barman wasn't much better tonight. I don't think we will ever order a pineapple daiquiri again.