Speedwell of Hong Kong

The Road to Mataram

Author: Shirlz

July, 2022

Due to the ill-timed problems with my ancient teeth I have been forced to make regular visits to a dentist in Mataram, the capital city of Lombok. It’s a one and a half hour car ride each way along a narrow, winding and busy road. Each trip from Gili Gede where I’m moored at Marina del Ray starts with a dinghy ride to the mainland where Hak, whom I have come to rely on over the months, will be waiting with his comfortable car, ready to do the driving.

The marina dinghy drops me off as close as it can get to the rough stone jetty, but sometimes if the tide is too low I have to jump off and try to reach the shore without getting my feet wet.

It’s not a boring drive. The road starts off very close to the shore where hundreds of colourful outrigger fishing boats are drawn up on the beach after a hard night of fishing in the strait. These are the boats that I had been so amazed at when I first arrived. It’s still fascinating to see them. Brightly coloured and well maintained with their crab-claw sails furled around their lowered masts. Most also have long-tail outboard motors but the sails get used if there is any wind. When all else fails, they can be paddled.

All along the road there are mosques placed at regular intervals. Sometimes there will be a man sitting on a chair in the middle of the road opposite the mosque holding a bowl or basket to collect donations from the passing motorists to help towards the restoration or upkeep of the mosque. A brave collector.

There is also a sprinkling of Hindu shrines with their very decorative stonework.

A little way along we come to the village of Tawun where there is a regular open market on Tuesdays. It’s a busy scene but much smaller than the market in Pelangan and easier for me to negotiate as being entirely in the open air it’s not quite so noisy and confusing.

Most of the traffic consists of motorcycles with every imaginable load. Fully draped women with hijabs and long skirts or sarongs flapping and one or two or three kids arranged front and back. Men with enormous loads of fodder which they have cut and are now taking back to feed their cows. The heavy green bundles extending for more than a meter each side. Then there are the snack vendors with their portable cooking arrangements strapped to the back seat of their cycles. Big square food containers. Crates of chickens. I haven’t actually seen this myself, but Neal Stephenson in his amazing book, Cryptonomicon, describes ‘Vendors with pushcarts loaded with boiling oil are not only keeping up with them but cooking fritters along the way’ which totally captures the scene.

All these motorcycles need fuel of course and informal petrol stations are scattered at convenient intervals. The blue tinted ‘benzin’ is sold in litre cool-drink bottles from small kiosks. Other small stalls advertise ‘cuci motor/mobil’ – cycle or car wash.

Chickens and laid-back dogs mingle at the side of the road. No one rushes. A dog will wander across the road, stopping half way for a scratch, and amble along to the other side, miraculously being avoided by the passing parade. I have seen a great big gas-tanker slow down to avoid a tiny chick struggling to keep up with mother hen.

Then there are the rice paddies wherever there is an open expanse which can be used. Wonderfully intricate water channels irrigate the fields as needed. The work of planting and taking care of the rice is all done by women wearing their characteristic pointy hats. The harvested rice kernels are spread out on tarpaulins next to the road to dry in the sun.

A little way along there is an area where salt is being traditionally processed from the sea water.

Approaching the harbour of Lembar the water is dotted with small bamboo huts on stilts which are used to attract fish. None of these are lit at night, which would make a night time approach to the harbour very challenging.

At one point the road climbs up a steep hill and winds down the other side. It’s a tricky section of road and all traffic slows down, either grinding painfully up or using low gear and brakes to control the precipitous decent. There are crash-bars along the edge of the road and these are a favourite place for monkeys to sit and spend a few hours watching the crazy humans.

All along the road there are small stalls piled with fresh fruit and vegetables for sale.

Its almost disappointing to eventually reach the outskirts of the city with its colourful welcoming construction of latticed arches. The traffic increases alarmingly but somehow or other we get through the chaos. Every traffic light has a platoon of hopeful snack sellers who offer roasted nuts, sliced pineapple or other strange-looking edibles. Then its a few hours of concentrated shopping or visiting the immigration offices before heading back to the peace and sanity of my little yellow boat.

This entry was posted on Tuesday, July 12th, 2022 at 05:07 and is filed under Cruising, Indonesia. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.