Gili Meno - "The Honeymooners Island"



Local woman prepares a coconut for my enjoyment

This is when we discover we are loosely following the Banana Pancake Trail. A recent term developed to describe the common trail taken by many backpackers in the last two decades through Southeast Asia. It's funny because we have already hit three of the trail benchmarks in Indo, and plan to visit many more of them. Also, due to the fact that all the free breakfasts we've had along the way have in fact been banana pancakes.

Meno is quiet. A vacation from our holiday, if you will try to understand. Not that I'm asking for sympathy, but backpacking can be trying on the soul. You live out of a bag (which will develop an odor at some point and never recover), travel through shoddy transportation systems often with nothing more than a handwritten ticket, trusting your life to people you hope understand what you need and where you want to go, spend 24/7 with just one person, eat some very weird food you hope will not come back to bite you, and spend many a day wandering the planet with no reservations (because nothing here is online) trying to find a bed for the night. It can be exhausting. Wonderful, but difficult as well. So, we are treating ourselves to two days in paradise.

Paradise is Gili Meno. Not the resort kind that I have experienced before (with room service, jet skis, planned activities and air conditioning), but a real paradise. Here, you live in simple grass bungalows like the locals, and there is literally nothing to occupy your time except sunning yourself on the beach, reading a good book, having a snorkel, and stuffing yourself with deliciously cheap local food. No guilt hanging over your head if all you do is swim. All day. Because there is no shopping, no sights, no town really even. Just a few grass bungalows a restaurant or two, and long stretches of white sandy beach with some fabulous reef right off shore. Bring a snorkel. So this is how we spend two days at the lovely Jepon bungalows. We do go see the turtle sanctuary, where 100 turtles are in giant saltwater baths on the beach, until they reach one year and they are released back into the wild. This greatly increases their chances of survival.


Gili Meno turtle sanctuary

It appears our bungalows are next door to a chicken farm, because at 4:45am they all start crowing. Apparently paradise comes with roosters.

Gili T "The Party Island"

Horse-drawn carts resemble a yellow and red Pere Noel tuk-tuk that jingles as it passes. The drivers honk a toy clown horn to let you know they're coming. A few are bumping Kanye. The street is an uneven half rock half dirt highway with foot passengers, happy bicyclists with baskets full of snorkeling gear, and horse carts alike. No sidewalk here, but that's part of the charm. When the horse-drawn tuk-tuks are empty of people they are full of Fanta crates.

Colorful Indonesian boats with names like "Why Not" and "The Rasta" - skinny wooden boats painted white with two long, thin pontoons reaching from either side for balance - pull up on the beach to offload basil, coca-cola, coconuts and other goods. They are reloaded with recycling, and empty water containers.



Our bungalow at Edy Homestay

Indonesian teenagers line the streets yelling "cheap room, cheap room" and holding brochures, just waiting for you to be too hot and exhausted to resist their pokes. After a 20-minute stroll up and down part of the main street, we are sweating from the weight of our three backpacks and one ukulele, and concede to view some of these "cheap rooms." For $20 a night we are staying at Edy Homestay, a coral pink backalley garden retreat, away from the noise of the main street. We get our own grass bungalow with a nice porch and a gorgeous beige stone outdoor bathroom with a hollow boulder for a sink. And, much to Chris' sheer enjoyment, air conditioning.

A cross-eyed, crooked-tailed grey tabby kitten we affectionately refer to as "Bintang" resides at our homestay. He snuggles in your lap and has a pair of very large ears.

There is a lovely Italian restaurant down a back alley off the main street - Trinycora(?). They have the best pizza in all of Indonesia, cooked in a traditional wood fired oven to near-Italian standards. The atmosphere is beautiful: big square wood tables and chairs in a neatly trimmed square grass lawn, under a black starry night. Oddly speckled with psychadelic Tiffany's style 6ft mushroom lamps. Later we had dessert at Cafe Gili Trawangan - perfect little spoonfuls of fresh coconut ice cream accompanied by petite chocolate cakes.

Gili T is the party island and we intend to participate - with cowbell. Our sights land on the Dark Moon party Wednesday night. Since the Full Moon parties only happen once a month, many locations have adopted a Dark Moon party to apease party-seeking backpackers. The party is at the Southern end of the island (the whole island can be walked in about an hour) at the Surf Bar. It kicks off with fireworks and a large bonfire is lit. There's a big grass hut for a bar, and another hut for the djs. There are laser lights and the whole effect is an outdoor nightclub on the beach - awesome. There must be a hundred people here all having a great time and while the dance floor is packed  - in true Indonesian form - the power goes out. It's back on 10 minutes later and a shirtless Indonesian teenager appears with flaming balls on the ends of two chains to execute some poi. He is amazing, I've never seen a fire performance like this. Then it's more dancing until the sun comes up. We head off to the night market before it closes to satiate our hunger. Chris has Mie Goreng and I order what I believe is a chocolate pancake. It turns out to be a full-on cake with about a million chocolate spinkles and tiny chopped peanuts melted on top, then folded in half and chopped into slices before being placxed in a dainty pink and white box for takeaway. I am more pleased than I care to express by this fortunate food order.

I had been itching for a good beach party since we landed in Australia months ago, and Gili T delivered.

Trouble in Paradise

Today it is my goal to summit the large hill East of our beach. We set forth in the hot morning sun with swimsuits, runners, and a water bottle. As we get to the base of the hill, there is a man selling coconuts. We ask him if it's possible to climb to the top and, in true Indonesian manner, he nods and says "yes." We continue all the way around the base before realizing he has misunderstood us, and replied "yes" so as not to appear stupid. Fortunately, on the other side of the hill is a beautiful, untouched lagoon with sparkling turquoise water. We happily decide to have a swim, for once unbothered by the pesky bracelet peddling children and the Muslims on holiday from Java who think we are movie stars (both of these are a daily occurance here). On our own private stretch of sand in Indonesia, we pause to admire the thousands of shells and bits of coral washed up on the shore. Chris finds a beautiful gray tortoise patterned shell with a large turret. As he's admiring it a tiny hermit crab pops out in protest. This is our day.

Later on we meet up with Dan and Emily to share our last dinner together. At the restaurant we are treated to a table in the sand, surrounded by twinkling red lights. We are soon discovered by Bob, John, Tom and Tina. You would think these are American businessmen or the like, they are in fact 10-year-old Indonesian children. Their vocabulary consists of words like "Jack Daniels", "happy hour", and "pussy." The children impart grand Lombok wisdom such as Daniel's long hair means he must have a "big banana" and that this leads to a "very happy girlfriend". They look over at Chris' short hair and sigh, "your wife is crying inside - you must buy her a bracelet to make her happy." Which of course is what they're peddling at our table. My freshly caught and grilled marlin is fantastic, covered by an assortment of veg and herbs that I can barely make out in the red light. I dig in zealously, knowing it will be delicious, not caring what the ingredients are. It turns out to be a fabulous concoction of green beans, caramelized onion, chili and lemongrass - to die for.

Mangrove forest, Kuta Beach

Upon arriving home, we gather on our front porch for some ukulele strumming followed by a game of hearts. We are thoroughly enjoying ourselves over a large Bintang each, when two motorbikes and three Indonesians come roaring into our courtyard. One drunken Indonesian teenager stumbles onto our porch and yells at us "My friend saw you today have three people on scooter..." then his friend smiles at us, grabs him by the shirt collar and drags him to the adjacent porch, where they all start yelling at three English people next door. They are our age and had rented a scooter from the homestay that morning. The Indonesian teenager is going on and on about how he had to save up money for three years to buy a scooter for 4 million rupiah. Apparently you're not supposed to have three people on the scooter (even though we have witnessed a family of five on just one scooter before), and he claims the rear shocks - or something - are ruined. He demands 500,000 rupiah as payment for this damage. The English guy explains that there were three people present when they rented the scooter and they must have known three people would be riding it. Otherwise they should have informed them of this rule, which they are now charging them for. The English guy is very calm all through this and asks that they come back in the morning when it's light outside.

Selang Belanak beach

We are all shocked at this turn of events and are trying to appear busy playing our ukulele and minding our own business. But it's extremely difficult to play such a tiny silly instrument when a brawl is about to happen next door. The Indonesian is quite angry now and yells at the Englishman "you think you are more clever than me because you speak English...I will kill you!" At this point the English guy has turned to go back into his room and the Indonesian guy picks up a sharp rock - we are all terrified he will hit the Englishman in the back of the head and beat him senseless. Fortunately one of the other Indonesians holds him back and speaks for his friend to resolve the issue. We are looking around to get the homestay people to help us at this point, and they are all terrified hiding inside their house peeking out the window. We don't know how to call the police, and we're worried they might be corrupt and just put the English people in jail. We feel so helpless. Finally the English agree to pay and the Indonesians go away. No one gets hurt. The homestay people come out of their house and apologize for the scene, they barely speak a word of English. Apparently they have a big problem here with gangs. Thank God we're checking out tomorrow. we decide to call a rain check on the Euro Cup game that night and tuck ourselves into our rooms, locking the doors. It's amazoing how the whole town knows where we are staying even though we are in a homestay with no name.

A word of advice to those traveling in Indonesia: the locals are unfailingly friendly, but be careful who you trust in relation both to renting scooters and booking boat passage. We've heard several horror stories about shoddy boats sinking on the crossing between Lombok - Gili Islands - Bali. And then there's the scooters. We don't want to be too judgmental, but there seems to be some sort of Indonesian mafia operating most of Lombok's tourism back rooms and it's best to avoid them.

Surfing Safari - Selang Belanak

Finally, the day of our first Indonesian surf trip had arrived! Emily and Daniel had stayed up late to watch Sweden in the Eurocup, so Krissy and I set our alarm for 6:30, and headed out early to pick up the surfboards and motorbikes, which we had secured the previous day. Having never ridden any sort of motorbike before, Krissy was full of nervous excitement for the short drive back to our homestay. After stopping to load up the surfboards, we had a small gravel hill to climb back to the road. Preparing for the steep but short hill, she gunned it. The back tire immediately began spinning, sliding, and spitting gravel. When she hit the road and the tire bit, she launched forward, but managed to maintain control and happily hit the road!

After a quick (but as always in Indonesia, free and banana pancake based) breakfast, the four of us set out. The morning was quite warm, and despite only being able to acquire two helmets, and renting our motorbikes without so much as giving the man our name, or filling any paperwork, we were optomistic about what a great deal we had bargained for on our rentals, and ready for fun! Previously we had heard stories about police shakedowns, and so decided to bring with us just 300,000 rp, or about $30. It was to be a 1 hour drive to the beach, and we were excited for fresh air, and the wind in our face.

As we started our journey, we quickly found that herds of cows and goats were commonplace along the main highway. Likewise, horse-drawn carriages were a common sight, and an interesting obstacle to dodge. We passed through two markets, where the entire street was crowded with people and animals. These were quite nerve-racking. Back onto the open roads and we were happy to be cruising, until it happened. We were flagged down at a police stop point. Uh oh.

In the backpacking community around Australia, horror stories abound about being shaken down for money by the often corrupt Indonesian police. They are apparently quite skilled at finding ways to squeeze some thousands of rupia out of unwary travelers. A driver we hired for a day on Bali had joked about the corruption money, letting us know that sometimes even he keeps 'corruption money' from his wife! Laughingly, he said sometimes he when he made 500,000 in a day, he might claim just 400,000 was made, so he could stash some away for car repairs and the like, preventing his wife from feeling the stress when those events came up. Not the worst thing that could be done with corruption money!

As Krissy and I, Emily and Daniel all sat on the side of the road, no fewer than five police officers of various rank and uniform surrounded us. The thought of our shady motorbike rentals quickly flashed into our heads, almost immediately followed by the realisation that not one of has had brought along any identification for the day-trip. This could turn out to be a bad day. Immediately the officers made requests for license and registration, in responce to which we meekly informed them that we could produce none of that. Meanwhile as one or two officers interrogated us, making sure to point out that we also seemed to be missing several helmets, the remaining officers were snapping photos with their cell phones! The officers questioning us rotated out periodically, while frightening at the time, in retrospect it seems they were taking turns posing for their pictures.

After several minutes of this they happily informed us that we could be along our merry way, without so much as a single rupia to encourage this outcome! How on earth that worked out, we couldn't figure. Having had such good luck and seemingly having built a good reporte, we decided to ask them for directions to our surf spot, making sure we were on the right path. They happily pointed us down the road in the direction we were headed, and off we went before someone changed their mind!

We cruised along with sun on our face, and wind in our hair, stopping once or twice to add a bit of petrol to the tanks (a unique experience!) and soon we realised two hours had passed, and we hadnt found our beach. We had stopped several times in the interim to confirm directions, and happily the local indonesians had pointed us along our way. Finally we stopped one last time, when we seemed to have reached the middle of nowhere, and asked directions and got fuel at a three-way stop. The people hanging around at our intersection contentedly pointed us along in three different ways. Great. We had heard before that rather than look like they dont know the answer to a question and loose face, an Indonesian would make up an answer, and it seems as if we had fallen pray to this mindset. With this discovery fresh in our minds, we decided to backtrack and try again.

With a bit of luck, and another hour and a half of travel, we managed at last to find our way to the surf beach! The tide was on its way out, but still some good swell to catch. A quick dip to cool off and clear the road grime, then some ground training for our un-surfed friends, and we hit the water. We managed to help them catch several waves, and get them comfortable with the balance on the board, the push of a wave, and the motions of standing up. Good progress for a first day! Krissy grabbed a few waves while I played coach, but sadly by the time I put a board under me, the tide had dropped to a point where on my first wave, I rode for maybe three feet before grinding to a stop in the sand. Oh well, it was beautiful, and we were having a nice adventure.

We hung out for a while more, trying for the first time one of the road-side indonesian specialties - corn grilled over a small fire! We ordered one with spicy sauce, and another with sweet (and still slightly spicy) sauce. YUMM! Now seeking refreshment, we walked down the beach a ways, and found Laut Biru - a cafe that was part of a resort consisting of five individual private villas. The place was small and very Indonesian looking with bamboo and grass, but well made and certainly of high quality. We ordered home-made chocolate icecream, that I believe to be the best icecream ever! Rich chocolate, from a coco bean rather than some pre-made concoction. The end result was smooth and chocolatey, but not super-sweet, just right. SOOOO GOOD! A bit of iced coffee to pick ourselves up after that, and we headed back for a last swim before our drive back home for the night.

Having finally figured out where the beach was, we saved a small amount of time for getting lost before dark set in, but just a small amount. It turned out that we were able to navigate the way home with no problem, and finally turned onto the last bit of highway before we arrived in Kuta. Emily had wanted to drive some, so we pulled over and she swapped with Daniel. Krissy was a bit concerned about driving with me and the surfboard, so decided to leave it to me to get us home. After having passed a patch with some water running across the road, we started down the last hill into town, when suddenly I felt our tail end sliding out from under us. We were uncontrolledly fishtailing down the hill! On a hill with wet tires, I thought I must have been a bit heavy on the throtel, so tried to let off it and coast. The back end continued to fishtail, but not so agressively, and I realised that we had a flat on our back tire!!

With just enough time before dark fell to get back into town, we quickly decided to have Daniel and Krissy head back and try to find us help with the man we rented from, while Emily and I stayed on the side of the road with the flat. In the 30 minutes or so we waited, we were happy to have had several friendly locals stop to ask if we needed assistance, in what english they could muster. While it seemed longer than it was, in short time and with darkness just starting to set in, Daniel arrived with two locals and a second motorbike. We moved the surfboard over to the new bike, and Daniel set off down the road with Emily, while I followed with one local on the fresh bike, and the other took the bike with a flat tire back and drove it into town.

We were all fairly sure they would blame us, and attempt to work a large amount of money out of us for repairs. Happily, in their great friendly way, they did no such thing, and when we got back sent us on our way with smiles and waves. Awesome! Home after some harrowing adventures, we got cleaned up, and headed out for some Bintang, food, and more surf movies. The only reasonable conclusion to a very exciting day in Lombok.

Ferry to Lombok

Early morning today, we pack our backpacks in preparation for the ferry to the
neighboring island of Lombok. Emily and Dan are coming with us, and We have promised to
teach them how to surf. Back in Perth, I sold my surf board to an old surfer dude from
California. He owns property on Lombok and told us about the great surf there, and how it
hadn't really been "discovered" yet. Arriving at the ferry terminal at 8:40am, we are

Padang Bai Harbor, from the ferry

ushered onto the boat, with barely a glance at our handwritten tickets. We head to the
second story where passengers belong and have a seat on the perimeter, where we can face
the ocean. A happy little green bird chirps away in its beautiful bamboo cage, nibbling
on bits of papaya every so often. Once the boat takes off the view of the harbor is
amazing, with Mount Agung rising up from the clouds. This is the "slow boat" and will
take about 4 hours to reach Lombok.

A Kiwi and a Brit are sitting next to us, they are executing a 3-day hike to the top of
the second highest peak in Indonesia while on Lombok. The Brit whips out his guitar and
starts playing. A group of Indonesian kids gathers around him to listen and he teaches
them "Big Bad Bullfrog" to which they sing along, clapping and laughing. Four hours later

Village huts in Kuta, Lombok

we arrive in the dirty harbor at Lombok, with barely a food stand and only a few goats
and mangy dogs wandering around. Most of the backpackers on the boat catch a transfer
shuttle to the Gili Islands. We must wait for ours, which is late, to take us South to
Kuta. I reluctantly visit the bathroom, preparing myself for the worst. Sure enough, the
lock on the door is a piece of green nylon string, and the toilet is a hole in the ground
with serrated plastic footholds on either side. The only other acrutrement to the room is
a large plastic tub filled with water and a small pail for pouring it...somewhere. Once

Local woman selling fish from a basket atop her head

outside I am pleasantly surprised when a nice SUV pulls up and we are able to ride in air
conditioning after a long hot boat trip.

The first thing we notice is the absence of seat belts. The second thing I notice is the
lack of identification or credentials of any kind. You have to tour Indonesia with a
strong sense of humor and trust in the locals. This man could well be taking us to the
middle of the jungle to be sold into sex slavery, but we are together and trusting that
we will arrive safely in Kuta. We drive at a pace between break-neck and break-
everything, passing motorbikes and large trucks full of produce on the narrow two-way
winding road. The scenery is unmatched: houses painted hot pink with bright green trim, a
village wedding procession (on motor bike of course), bamboo forests, and hundreds of
rice fields. A 40-minute drive later, we are in Kuta. I feel like I could well be in
Africa, the main street consists of two city blocks lined with simple grass mat huts
selling goods and cooking food.

It's definitely a surf town though, several shops rent out boards and offer trips to the
reef for surfing. We tell our driver we want to stay somewhere cheap and he takes us to
the end of the road and drops us at a compound with yellow gates and no signage, where
mothers and their children are playing on a raised bamboo platform in the dusty
courtyard. Dirty cats are meowing and running amuk. I think this might be his sister's
house. Nonetheless there appear to be several rooms that are numbered and labeled with
checkout times. There's a surf board or two outside some doors, so it can't be too bad.
The price is beyond cheap and the rooms are fairly clean with our own patio and free
breakfast. We drop our things and rush to the villager in search of food, we haven't eaten
since morning. I can't help feeling like I'm in an Endless Summer movie, where they visit
these remote places with huts and friendly natives in search of the perfect wave. We can
see the reef break in the bay, and it looks huge. We find lunch and enjoy delicious fruit
smoothies while we wait for our food. A group of Aussies are also here in search of surf,
and say there's a big swell coming in. Tomorrow, we will talk to the surf shops and score
some boards.

Chris playing ukulele on Kuta Beach, Lombok

After strolling through the rest of town to gain our bearings we head back to the
compound for a rest before tonight's Euro Cup match. Chris teaches Dan and Emily a few
songs on the Uke, then we all have a glorious nap before rising again at 11:30pm to catch
the match in town. We appear to be locked in for the night, a giant padlock is holding
the gate closed and we have to expertly hope the gate to get to town. We hit the Tropical
Beach Bar, which has a projector and a big screen set up for the game. All the local
teenage boys are already there watching the pre-game analysis, which is in Chinese for
some reason. The bar is amazing, with thatched huts, and adorable bamboo table and chair
sets all on the beach. Twinkle lights and tiki torches create a lovely atmosphere as we all cozy up on the sand for the game.

Welcome to Padang Bai

Beautiful Bloo Lagoon

Today began at 11am, with Ketut's yummy pancake and honey breakfast. We then go to Padang Bai Cafe in town where Nanon (our chef and friend since we've been in town) has promised us a good price on ferry crossing to Lombok. We give him 300,000 rupiah and he takes our names on a piece of paper. We are to return later in the afternoon for our tickets. This is how it works in Indonesia, so it's always a good idea to make friends with the locals and cultivate a relationship - they will help you out big time when you need something.

At the Bloo Lagoon, we spend hours of the day snorkeling. This is some of the best snorkeling we've seen, even better than the Great Barrier Reef. It's amazing because you can swim to it right from the beautiful sandy beach. The sand is so soft it feels like pancake batter between your toes. I see so many kinds of fish I can hardly begin to remember them all now. Fat blue puffer fish with yellow spots, long silver pike fish, a school of a hundred trout, and big bowls of lettuce green coral. We have lunch at the Bloo Lagoon Cafe. I try the Bali coffee, which is unfiltered grounds in typical Balinese fashion, but it tastes good. Just sip carefully to avoid the sludge. We have a leisurely stroll back through town toward Lemonhouse, where I leave Chris to head to the well-named White Sandy Beach. I am just not done swimming, and looking forward to some time alone - which is rare when traveling full-time with a companion in third world countries.



Cow path to White Sand Beach

I proceed past the ferry terminal and turn left at the two big cows and head up a steep gravelly hill, serenaded by chickens. Then it's down the other side of the gravelly hill until you turn a corner and "bam baby" - there's your first glimpse of White Sandy Beach. Moby's "Porcelain" is playing in my head and, rightly so, I feel like I've discovered my own private slice of Indian Ocean paradise. I trek through tropical bush and heaving coconut trees on a small dirt path to the beach. There are only 6 or so other people enjoying the sand and I luxuriate in a long swim in the warm ocean before settling on my sarong for a good read. A friendly local has plopped down next to me with his guitar. He's wearing nothing but a pinstriped speedo and a silver playboy necklace. Awesome. The Balinese people are unfailingly friendly, generous and helpful, so I decide to trust this silly man. He would like to practice his English, so I indulge him for a few minutes, how can I refuse such a genuine desire? I am rewarded with a personalized song. The guitar is lovely, and the singing seems to be a compilation of every sentence he knows in English. It goes something like this:

Welcome
to Padang Bai
How are you today?
You swim today in Padang Bai
Soon you leave
But come back
to Padang Bai
America love Bali
so beautiful
I hope you like Padang Bai



Discovering White Sand Beach

This is Indonesia...I smile away and enjoy the moment. Eventually, after a very long story in half English half Indonesian - something about Obama and Indonesian boats - I head home. The Indonesians love to talk about Obama because he went to school in Jakarta for a few years. I have just passed the cows at the bottom of the gravelly hill when I hear a voice behind me: "Kristin - I bring you to Lemonhouse!" Ketut happened to be cruising by on her motorbike. She pulls over on the side of the road and I excitedly hop on, hoping I won't later regret my helmetless state. We proceed down the tiny winding alley to Lemonhouse, dodging other motorbikes (how do they all fit?!), and I make it alive at the bottom of the steps to home. In all seriousness I've been dying to try out one of these things and I had so much fun riding along with Ketut.

After a cold shower, we head to town for dinner. We pass Nanon at the Cafe, and he has our ferry tickets for us. Yay! We pop in to Puri Rai for dinner tonight, and it is the best meal we've ever had. For only $3.30 USD I receive a grilled Mahi Mahi steak on a bed of wilted greens with a trio of homemade salsas, and a tower of rice shaped like a temple. Yes, I will be worshipping this meal. There's even a cute little sign in the restaurant: "Thank you fisherman for providing us with the best fresh seafood" - they pull it right out of the bay across the street. You can't get fish that's fresher, I beg you to try.

The Mother Temple

The next stop on our whirlwind tour of Bali was to see Pura Besakih, or "The Mother Temple".

Our guide warned us before we went to get our tickets that they would try to rip us off, charge exorbitant rates, force us to use a guide (which we would have to pay for) etc. He let us know that we shouldn't pay much more than 50,000 rp (Indonesian dollars - about $5 US.) for a guide, and another 35,000 for the tickets. Despite the warnings, we still managed to get ripped off. :-) That said, our 'Rip Off" was for a grand total of $15 or so, and we had a three hour guided tour of this HUGE temple complex. With construction starting around the year 800 AD, this Hindu temple is both the oldest, and the largest in Bali. Built on the south slope of Mount Agung, there are twenty-two individual temples. It extends over what seemed to be near a mile up the side of the mountain, with main temples on the East, West, North and South.

The carving of the entirely black volcanic stone is incredibly detailed, with representations of the Hindu gods, as well as dragons to protect the temples, and various other religiously significant depictions.




All in all the visit was well worth what we paid, even though our driver seemed almost upset at how much we paid in the end.