Woodung to Moni

A travel day. You wake up not knowing how it'll be. No need to worry: everybody else knows exactly what you're doing and where you're going.

We are bundled from bemo to belo to ojek to taxi. Ul and I split in town and I have an emotive shouting match with the bus boys as they try to drop me where they think I should go, but where I may never see Ul ever again. When he's spotted primly passing on an ojek the whole bus starts cheering and chasing. And we are shoehorned at speed into a car driving very very fast round bends that turn back on themselves.

But we do arrive just about in one piece and limp, literally, to a small farm with bungalows surrounded by treed mountains and clouds. It's shambolic, full of spiders and cockerels. But beautiful and calm with food and views.

View from our bungalow by the beach. . .