Gili Islands to New Zealand

Aji, the boy who works for the family who own the bungalows and restaurant, has become a good friend while I have been staying here. He is from Lombok and goes back to visit his family there occasionally. He is working hard to improve his English and hopes someday to go to university and become an English teacher. In the evenings we sit on my veranda, drinking Bintang beer, chatting and listening to the geckos croaking.  I try and help him with his English and he tells me strange tales of Lombok. He tells me about men who can become crocodiles; how boys have to kidnap their bride before they are allowed to marry her; about people who can turn into animals like dogs and cats during the night, and scare people in the dark; a magic belt which protects the wearer from injury from spears or bullets and an oil that men drink and put on their forehead and then try to stab themselves.

He works here every day, sweeping the ground, cleaning the bungalows and generally looking after the guests. I ask him where he lives while he is working here and he says, ‘Somewhere here’, waving with his arm generally around the bungalow area, ‘I make sure the place is safe at night. Sometimes I sleep here,’ he says, pointing to the raised platforms by the beach, ‘or here,’ pointing to the outside bar. ‘Or if there are too many mosquitoes, sometimes in the kitchen.’

Here he is, wearing a T shirt on his head, ‘island-style’.

Aji

I have my last breakfast on Gili Air, sitting as usual on one of the little roofed platform just behind the beach and Aji and the boy from the bungalows nest door come and join me. We sit quietly and they say they are sad that I am leaving. I feel a little sad too.

We watch two fishermen wading in the shallow water, casting a net and splashing with their hands and by throwing coral to scare small barracuda-type fish to swim into the net. They collect the fish from the net and bring them onto the beach in a bag. The woman from my accommodation goes down and buys half a dozen. ‘Every meal is fish,’ says Aji with a small sigh.

Fishermen

Selling fish on the beach

Then my journey begins and one of the horse carts comes to pick me up and take me to the harbour to catch the boat back to Amed. After that it is 3 hour car journey to the airport on Bali. My flight is not until 10 o’clock and I am too early by several hours to check in. This airport is not the best for a long wait. There are very few chairs to sit in the check-in hall and even in departures. Then security come at the entrance to all the gates, so there are long queues there and people sit on the floor looking tired and fed up.  

It is a 5 and half hour flight to Sydney. As we approach the airport I get a great view out of the aeroplane window of the harbour, with the bridge and opera house.

Sydney Harbour

In Sydney airport it is suddenly Christmas and one of the first people I see is Santa walking around, ringing a bell and ho-ho-ho-ing. I have landed a world away from Asia.

My second flight is only 2 and a half hours and as we fly across the south island from west to east towards Christchurch, we cross the Southern Alps, with snow on the highest peaks. From the airport it is a short minibus journey into the city and on the way I chat to the driver about the aftermath of the earthquake. He explains that the whole of the inner city centre is fenced off while safety assessments, insurance claims, demolition and re-building take place. There is terrible damage in some suburbs and other are relatively unscathed. Some people are still living in broken houses, while others are living with friends or relatives and those who have other options have moved away, perhaps to second homes elsewhere or even relocated to Australia. Some residents have had decisions made about the safety and insurance situation of their property and others are still waiting for decisions.

Almost exactly 24 hours from leaving Gili, I am in my hostel. I will only be in Christchurch for one night, as I will be catching the bus to Nelson in the north of the south island tomorrow morning, so after I have claimed my bed space and had a shower, I am ready to explore. It is a distinctly chilly 16 degrees. I am back in a part of the world where it is easy and safe to walk about. Traffic lights go red and low and behold, traffic stops so you can cross the road and the pavements are wide and flat - except not always here in Christchurch. Parts of the pavement are buckled, or even have holes which are fenced and coned off.

Hole in the road

About half a square mile of the main city centre is fenced off and the buildings still standing are totally empty. It is eerily quiet, with very few people around, just some cranes and bull-dozers working behind the fence. Signs are attached to the fence saying where businesses have relocated. One sign says,’ Chistchurch’s buildings may be broken, but its heart is still beating.’

Christchurch city centre

Just outside the fenced-off city centre a temporary shopping mall, called ‘Re:Start’ has been constructed from brightly-painted containers and is doing its best to keep city shopping alive.

Temporary shopping mall

Other individual buildings are empty and boarded or propped up, or there are just empty spaces where demolition has already gone on. There is an old bridge crossing the River Avon, which is built as a war memorial, but for now the bridge entrance is closed off and leads nowhere, making a memorial to a more recent tragedy.

Memorial Bridge

The next day I catch an inter-city coach up to Nelson, which is at the top of the south island. I check into a cosy backpackers hostel and this is where I will be over the Christmas and New Year period. Nelson apparently has the most sunshine in New Zealand and the city is small and tidy - all-in-all a nice place to be.

Nelson



Here I am in sitting on my bed writing my blog!