Lembongan from above. Photo: Dagan Beach
Off the east coast of Bali is the small and charming island of Lembongan. After a mildly dodgy and “slow” boat ride through some very deep water, we arrived into a sheltered bay and reef-surrounded lagoon.
It’s a popular surf getaway where the blossoming tourism trade stands smartly next to the modest, traditional trade of seaweed farming. Big party boats with water slides don’t always withstand the big swells that can roll through, keeping obnoxious visitors humble.
Arriving on a small swell made the sailing safer, but the reefs weren’t breaking so I was left to explore. Beautiful vistas were reached by bad roads, passing beds of drying seaweed and developing agriculture further inland. There was a confusingly high concentration of temples, which made it seem like there was almost one for every family. In one place, a road came to an abrupt stop into a temple wall and was re-routed where clearly the road was secondary to the need of building a temple there.
Snorkeling tours were sold every hundred yards down the main beach while diving community seemed mysterious as they huddled like old Italian men chatting in a park. And there was little but some evidence of the shady Indonesian past time of cock fighting as cocks sat caged on a doorstep. It was an easy place to wear my far out flowery short shorts. No cool crowd, just a chill island vibe.
Neighboring and accessed by a narrow scooter bridge was Ceningan – a smaller island with worse roads and just cresting into the first stages of development. I was stopped by an elder, while photographing, and softly interrogated. He placed a firm hand, padding my chest and shoulder, as if to inspect my spirit, then let me continue, feeling validated.
The southern tip of Ceningan was well worth getting a sore ass and slightly compressed spine. Extremely exposed to southern ocean swell, waves were breaking into this small beach bay, where yet more seaweed farms would snag you, if a wave took you too far inside. Aside from the restaurant and poolside bungalows, a new warung was being built on the point where you could jump three meters into the top of the wave. Snorkelers would wave their hands and point with wide eyes, as they circled excitedly. A special place to be, once you get there. But if the waves get big, you don’t stand a chance.
