Helsinki ~ Travel Notes

Unfortunately “Finland” in my native Burmese means, “arse exposed”. It amused us children to the max whenever our Geography teacher said it out loud in class. Poor teacher had to wait till the laughter died down, beating the blackboard with a cane, covered in chalk dust, frustrated. This particular childhood memory somehow clings on and still makes me smile to this day.

The red and white striped Gabriela has sailed for 14 hours from Stockholm, the last port of embarkation. The cruise ship carries mostly tourists, many of them jaded from a night of Casino, Karaoke, Duty-free shopping and bounteous boozing on board, slow-paced and bleary-eyed.

Helsinki looms in a distance. Fins are seizing their Saturday, out in the sea, sailing or relaxing on their fancy yachts. There are even baby sailboats for kids. Islands of different sizes are scattered sloppily before the city. The archipelago capital is the third largest among Nordic nations and blessed with whopping 315 green islands to hop on or sail around. 

I look through the viewfinder in an attempt to capture the striking skyline from the front deck. Although it may take 20 minutes or more to reach the harbor, the city’s prominent landmark is already visible. Helsinki Cathedral, the majestic white structure with a green dome, sits jubilantly like a giant wedding cake. Nearby stands another, an orangey brown cathedral with its turquoise top penetrating the dark grey sky. The architectural influence of Finland’s immediate eastern neighbor is noticeably apparent. (I find out later that Uspenski Cathedral was designed by the Russian architect, Aleksey Gornostayev in the late 19 century). A Farris wheel, an essential fixture for a metropolis of 1.5 million people, takes its waterfront spot next to cargo ships and cruise liners, docked at the jetty.

Thankfully, the icy drizzle that greets us upon arrival soon dashes. A sunny afternoon is promised by the time we check-in to Hotel Katajanokka, an 18^th century detention facility turned four-star hotel. As the room is not ready, the two of us set out to explore the Senate Square, a mere15-minute walk away from the hotel, according to the receptionist. We will then slowly make our way towards Stockmann department store where I have agreed to meet my Finnish friend, Päivi for lunch. 

Saturday sizzles under the scorching sun. Tourists and locals are roaming the streets of Senate Square, the CBD where a unique mix of iconic landmarks and important structures are on full on display like an open-air museum. Some high profile Hollywood movies were filmed here, notably Robert Redford’s “Reds” and “The Kremlin Letter” by John Huston. The biggest star of the square is of course “Bad Bad Boy”, a fetus-like pink figure that stands mischievously and urinates into the sea. The temporary fountain-statue by Helsinki-based artist Tommi Toija gains so much love from strolling sightseers whose #selfies, without a doubt, are going to fetch so much more social media love in return (or rather LIKEs and RETWEETs, to be politically correct!)

  

Taking in the sights, sounds and scents of a new place is always thrilling. A yet unknown place that holds endless opportunities to get familiar till I can claim "Yes! I’ve been!". My ‘Travel Mode” is on; I’m prepared, expectant and open. 

          

The fragrance of pan-fried salmon cuts through the crowd from the temporary tents in front of City Hall, summoning my growling tummy to protest even more. Well, it’s almost 1pm. Fish, fish, fish everywhere; fresh or filleted, smoked or grilled, even pickled and bottled. The deep fried small fish (Vendace in Finnish) looks quite appetising, I must say. Practice of eating small fish is common too in Asia although we don’t dip it in cream sauce like they do here. My grandmother would have fried them crisp with chili & garlic.

 

The harborfront market in the Senate Square is also a place to pick up souvenirs of Finland; handicrafts made out of wood, knitwear of many colors, stuffed animals, fox fur coats, winter hats, earmuffs, and reindeer skins. If you are not a fan of animal products and looking for something organic, Finnish berries may appease you. Summer here marks the berry-picking season and as one of the world leaders in the development of health-enhancing food, Finland is home to rare berries such as crowberry, cloudberry, rowanberry and lingonberry, which are packed with vitamins and nutrients essential for the human body.

The street behind the blue-hued City Hall takes us to Helsinki’s major shopping district, Aleksanterinkatu. Festive with fashion-obsessed Finns and fabulous cafés, we people-watch and window-shop all the way down to Stockmann. Our Euros are good here as Finland is the only country in Nordic region to use Euro.  

“Are you guys hungry? I’m taking you guys to an island for lunch”. 

Päivi and I haven’t seen each other for over two years but we keep in touch regularly on Facebook. Today, she has brought a visiting friend from Berlin, a pretty blonde named, Cornelia. Four of us from four different corners of the world, united by one language, embark for Suomenlinna, a nearby sea fortress built on six islands. During 20-minute ferry ride, Päivi, playing a tourist guide, graciously runs a live commentary of Helsinki; facts and folklores, in between random ramblings that we are both good at.
                                

“Panimo”, a cozy restaurant and brewery is just beside the main pier. The menu offers Finnish favorites such as Traditional Salmon Soup and Toast Skagen (hand-peeled shrimps and roe of Vendace on toast). For the main course, it’s a toss between reindeer or fish, the two staples in Finnish cuisines. I opt for the latter; catch of the day in cream sauce with steamed seasonal vegetables, accompanied by the handcrafted local beer.

After lunch, Päivi leads us on a promenade along the old fortress, which was built during the Swedish rule in the mid 1700s to fend off the neighbor Russia’s every-growing expansionism. The site has seen both Swedish and Russian rule, been damaged during wars and restored as a UNESCO heritage site since 1991.

Sunny Saturday keeps the spirits high. Shirtless young men are relishing the sun, receiving their Vitamin D intake (which is scarce in this part of the world) while two girls practice cartwheels on the grass. A married couple, in full wedding attire, sits on the rock being photographed against the stunning backdrop. Suomenlinna’s audience today comprises of tourists like us, picnickers, runners in Nike gear and of course, swimmers & sunbathers. Honestly, I don’t know how anyone can be in the water right now. It even gets chilly the minute I stay out of the sun. Soon, autumn will quickly come and flee. Then it’s time for brutal winter, the longest season in Finland that lasts about 100 days (200 days in northern Lapland where the sun does not rise at all for 51 days). For now, Finns are savoring the last remaining days of 18 hours sun with reckless abandon. 

“Why am I not living here? This is so my kind of place.” enthuses Cornelia. It’s true. The idyllic island is ideal for those who seek a peaceful lifestyle while keeping an option of all-things-urban open. Dotted with charming old buildings some of which have now been converted to souvenir stores, cafés and museums, Suomenlinna is not just a tourist destination but a living community with over 900 inhabitants who reside here permanently.

Sunday morning starts with a visit to the iconic Helsinki cathedral. The superior situation and the shape of it remind me of Sacré-Cœur Basilica in Paris. This neo-classical place of worship was built from 1830-1852, during the Russian empire era and was designed by German architect, Carl Ludvig Engel who was also responsible for other buildings in the Senate Square. I find it interesting and refreshing in fact that the interior is quite marvelously modest compared to the usual ostentatious ornaments as seen in cathedrals of Spain or France for example. The steep flight of steps not only serves as a panoramic viewpoint overlooking the city but also sunbathing spot for many. 

                 

Other notable architecture includes Parliament house, which has been the scene of many crucial political moments in the country’s history, especially during the Winter War and Continuation war. Finland is also the first European country to grant women the right to vote and to stand for the parliament. The marvelous column-lined façade has timeless elegance and minimalist charm. Architecture enthusiasts will certainly get a kick out of Helsinki’s eclectic mix of neo-classical and modern buildings, coexisting in harmony and even complimenting one another. I’m particularly impressed with the shoreline-facing apartments that not only find balance between functionality and aesthetics but also adopt the policy of sustainability and eco-friendliness. 

I meet my two blonde friends later to go to the Restaurant Day celebration. The concept; anyone can be a restaurant/café/bar owner for a day during this food carnival, Paivi explains, originated from Helsinki and has spread all over the world ever since. Finns gather four times a year to celebrate cooking and eating. It’s that simple. The energy here is palpable. Cultures and colors are constantly colliding. Many languages are spoken. Many different dishes are sampled. The city comes together in appreciation of food. You name it, Paella Valenciana, Turkish Kebab, Brazilian Barbecue, Vietnamese spring rolls, Ethiopian Beyaynetu, Chinese dim-sum and a Finnish favorite that I try, Karelian pastry, a traditional Finnish dish made from a thin rye crust with a filling of rice. Butter mixed with boiled egg is spread over the hot pastries before eating. It is versatile and can be consumed as snack, appetizer or finger food for parties. It even works when I pair it with Finish flavored vodka, which I’ve fallen in love and am taking home plenty as my sole souvenir of Finland.

    

Sadly, the plan to go to Tallinn for a day trip gets clouded by the bad weather. All the boats that leave for the Estonian capital were cancelled due to strong wind. Sunshine-heavy weekend seems like a distant memory on Monday. After reading my Facebook rant, sympathetic Paivi suggests that we go to Porvoo instead, a mediaeval town, located on the southern coast of Finland, about 50 km (30 minutes drive) east of Helsinki.

Porvoo certainly is an unexpected delight, an impressive alternative. Although many fires have destroyed the town and buildings have been rebuilt, it’s easy to make sense of how folks were living way back when. A splendid saunter through the old town uncovers what one usually sees in the postcards; a maze of narrow cobblestoned lanes, picture-perfect churches, eye-catching boutiques and crimson-colored warehouses along the riverbank. I can imagine how cheerful these colorful structures must look under the piling snow. Perhaps it’s the reason they are painted in such bright hues; to shoo away the winter blues.

  

  

Three days in Helsinki is relatively short. Because the city offers state of the art museums, an eclectic set of churches, a wide variety of nightlife activities in addiction to its many parks and islands that could keep a traveler busy. Helsinki has both cosmopolitan flair and laid-back atmosphere; it can be vibrant, energetic yet calming if and when necessary. Fins are friendly and easygoing. Plus it is convenient that majority here speaks fluent English. Really, it is no surprise that the city has made the top-10 list of world’s most livable cities this year once again. 

Mariah Carey ~ Me. I am Mariah...The Elusive Chanteuse (Track by track album review)

The long-delayed 14^th album from Mariah Carey, “Me. I am Mariah…The Elusive Chanteuse”, has been finally unveiled. 

“Cry.”

The soul-baring ballad echoes Carey’s earlier album cuts like "Vanishing". But the dreary nature of the lyrical content and dull melody make one yearn for the poetic brilliance of her “Butterfly” album. Even when she tries to score the gold with the complex vocal gymnastics towards the end, it is not an easy song to get fond of instantly. Besides, if Carey claims that this album is about her life in the last three years, which saw a happy marriage, gorgeous twins and 18 million dollars she pocketed for judging American Idol, what and who is she singing about in this tearjerker then? 

“Faded”

The freshest cut on the set, thanks to the producer of the moment, Mike Will Made It (responsible for Rihanna and Miley Cyrus’s recent hits). At times, “Faded” sounds a bit like her number one smash “Don’t Forget About Us” and could easily fit in well with the rest of the songs on her “Memoirs Of An Imperfect Angel” album. The synth hook played all throughout the track is haunting and suitable for this mid-tempo ballad about ‘a lover that has vanished’.   

“Dedicated” (Featuring Nas)

A throwback that brings back the 90's where Carey pioneered the rap-sung collarbo trend with her number one hits like “Fantasy”, “Honey” or “Heartbreaker”. The classic Carey cooing over rap verses or signature whistle notes doing the scale in the background, plus the infectious “la-di-da-di-da” chorus are all here. With “Dedicated”, not only does she pay homage to old-school Hip-hop/Rn’B but also flip a middle finger to the EDM trend that is dominating the airwaves nowadays. Carey is at ease when she gets to do what she does well.

“#Beautiful” (Featuring Miguel) 

The top 15 hit “#Beautiful”, if promoted properly, could have easily been her 19^th number one. Carey has proven once again that her knack for writing catchy choruses is no fluke. It is also one of those rare occasions where Carey shows restraint avoiding her usual vocal embellishments and instead letting the simple sensual melody take the center stage. Even after a year of release, #Beautiful is still a standout track. No heavy lifting involved, this bouncy ballad offers a little dose of summer romance that no one could refuse. 

“Thirsty”

Sure, Carey warbling “You’re thirsty- you’re thirsty” is cringe-worthy and perhaps more fitting for a Pepsi cola ad. But hey, try not being too cynical for a moment, the song’s hypnotising beats might turn you a bobble-head. In truth, “Thirsty” could have been a hit, if it was released 15 years ago. Now it just feels like wearing a jacket that is no longer in fashion. Even when “Instagram” is mentioned at some point in the song, it just sounds dated, baby! But does she really care?  Because it genuinely seems Carey is quenching her thirst for this type of music by coming up with one song after another. Queen of shade throwing, Carey could also be cooking up her old recipe with this Hip-hop number, which by the way is about a lover who’s out of touch with reality, thirsty for fame. Her Eminem diss, “Obsessed” comes to mind. 

“Make It Look Good”

The Motown-flavored, harmonica-driven, Doo-Wop laced “Make It Look Good” sees Carey chirping about a loverboy who makes her go "I just wanna taste of what you got but my mama always told me not to play with those players who play you". All efforts are appreciated (including Stevie Wonder's harmonica solo) but this would have been more convincing if Ariana Grande was singing it. It’s a little age-impropriate. Besides, the Jermaine Dupri production is a tad too tired and dismissible. 

“You’re Mine (Eternal)”

Rodney Jerkins’ production is sleek but somehow weak. Simplistic melody and juvenile lyrics fit more for a singer like Katy Perry. A 45-year-old singing, “Boy, you make me feel, our love would never end. How can I forget, baby we were the best” makes one wonder if the song is targeted for the Middle School audience for their first official Valentine’s day. But then again, which Middle school kid these days would follow Carey on Twitter or LIKE her Facebook page, let alone buy this record? #TotesConfused. On a positive note though, "You re mine” begins with pleasingly husky low notes, then exhibits her rich mid-range (where her current voice shines brightest) and finally unleashes a mammoth belted note which masterfully merges into whistle register, sustained till eternity. What a wondrous thing to hear (even if it was doctored to perfection in the lab)

“You don’t know what to do” (Featuring Whale)

It’s not always gold when Jermaine Dupri and Carey get together and attempt to make hits. Definitely not as of late (“Triumphant”, anyone?) and the last time the duo had a hit was almost a decade ago. However the drought may have come to an end with “You Don’t Know What To Do”. The shimmering five-star disco throwback is the best of the bunch. Donna Summer-esque soaring intro accompanied only by a piano, spellbinding pre-chorus followed by the chorus so wicked, playful rap solo by Whale and the rousing outro spell G.O.L.D or better yet, P.L.A.T.I.N.U.M, if they decide to release it as the next single. Put your dancing shoes on. Saturday Night Fever is going to hit, y'all. 

“Supernatural”

Chuckles of her adorable twins adorn the lullaby-like “Supernatural”. The unusual  composition also finds Carey’s daughter, Monroe, singing a hook. Like mother, like daughter. Not so sure if Blue Ivy can do that yet?  But the game is on. Look out for the epic key change that only Mariah could do, riding high flying right into the stratosphere.

“Meteorite” 

Either this is the ultimatum from her record label or rather a calculative move from her side, which is to feature at least one dance song that is radio-friendly. The Daft Punk-ish “Meteorite” is a Q-tip production,  an odd inclusion on this set. Moreover, Carey seems a bit detached from hypothetically inspirational, yet profoundly tedious lyrics, “You know what you are. It’s true. You will go far cause’ you got the night to light up the sky”. It’s also not certain whether she’s mocking or cheering for those enjoying their 15 minutes of fame. 

“Camouflage”

Carey’s hardcore fans know and adore her autobiographical album cuts such as “Petals”, “I am free”, “Twister” or “Lookin’ In” – the melancholy “Camouflage” starts out promising but unfortunately ends up a tad too messy due to the ostentatious vocal arrangement. A not-so-united choir of Mariahs harmonizing, wailing, delivering messages, hitting high whistles from all directions- now that’s an overkill. 

“Money” (featuring Fabolous)

Many solid tracks on this album happen to be the up-tempo ones. Hitboy-produced “Money”, like “Dedicated” is yet another throwback Hip-Hop R&B track where Carey rides the charismatic chorus like it’s a Maserati. What matters here is that she sounds carefree and convincing. At this stage in her career, she has nothing more to prove. She might as well make the type of music she loves and relish the experience. That’s why, though she sings “Money, this, that, the other don’t mean nothing”, “Money” is definitely money baby! 

“One More Try”

Almost every Mariah Carey album carries a Schmaltzy cover of a well-known song – The fans of George Michael’s earnest vocal delivery that renders angst and ache will find it difficult to accept Carey’s smooth syrupy update. However, Carey’s version of “One More Try” sounds current and cohesive, while not straying too far from the original arrangement. Carey certainly doesn’t disappoint, providing an abundant showcase of smoky low notes, impressive octave leaps, intentional vocal cracks and melismatic vocal runs although her upper range is now getting thin and as a result, a bit shrieky.

“Heavenly (No Ways Tired/Can't Give Up Now)”

Carey’s approach to Gospel has always been subtle and therefore relatable– without mentioning or praising the man above excessively but usually letting an inspirational message be the highlight of her song. “There will be mountains that I will have to climb, and there will be battles that I will have to fight. But victory or defeat, it’s up to me to decide, but how can I expect to win if I never try?” It’s Gospel so she certainly is not going to hold back. In fact she sings her face off reaching the heavens and above. Her heartfelt delivery on this stirring number takes us all to church.

Even the most gifted photographers can’t ignore the power of Photoshop. Likewise, the perfectionist Carey may have played with her vocals in the studio. Many of her high notes may have been pitch-corrected, stretched slightly longer or executed flawlessly. They are far too perfect just like her heavily airbrushed album artwork. While "The Elusive Chanteuse" is the diva's weakest album lyrically, in the vocal department, she has yet again raised the bar incredibly high. That of course raises the question - how will she perform these songs live?  It is safe to bet that she may perform them live but lip-sync the difficult parts as she has been so for the last 12 years. After all, people may bitch about lip-syncing or a bad performance, they forgive and forget as time goes by. But the records, yep, her platinum records, are forever.

The Gorgeous Gilis

“Gili Trawangan!!!” “Gili Trawangan!!!” shouts a man in dark blue uniform as the fast boat carrying passengers from neighbouring Bali has arrived at the jetty. Many passengers hurry out carrying their bags and belongings. Some of us have had a power nap while some were busy evening out their tan on the rooftop during a two-hour trip through choppy sea. The claustrophobic small boat, which is packed today with tourists from all over the world -Brazilians, Germans, Americans, Australians, Japanese, French and Dutch, from judging the conversations I've overheard - has already dropped off some passengers at two previous stops, the nearby Gili Menos and Senggigi beach, the gateway to Lombok island.

The three Gilis; Trawangan, Meno and Air, are an archipelago of three small islands and usually frequented by diving enthusiasts and tourists who wish to see beyond Bali, which lies 35 km west of Gili Trawangan.

The biggest among the three, Gili T is also the most developed and unofficially dubbed as the party central for its numerous hotels, pubs, restaurants and services. The other two Gillis already have some resorts and restaurants but still somewhat virgin in comparison.

I first came here on a weekend trip. 3 years ago to be exact. I still remember my first encounter with the Gilian air; conspicuously clean,crisp and calm, as automobiles and motorised transportation is prohibited on the islands. And of course, the top-quality water: turquoise blue, crystal clear and cozy warm. My two friends wouldn’t stop taking photos of each other with the splendid backdrop, the two stark blues sandwiching the quaint green hills of Lombok in a distance. 

“Come on, guys! We have two whole days and there are much nicer spots than this”

The horse carts (called “Cidomo” here) run on fixed prices. Completely unaware, I bargain the price using my limited Indonesian. But the driver points at the price chart mounted on the cart. A lot more civilized than I had expected, 75,000 rupiah ride (about 8 USD) takes us to our hotel at the further west end of the island. I learn upon arrival that “Queen Villas”, as it was known when I booked online, is in fact now “Aston Hotel”.

“Are you sure this is Queen Villas?” I doubtfully double check with the porter who greets us at the entrance.

“Yes, sir. This is Queen Villas managed by Aston”

We are certainly well away from the happenings. There is nothing after Aston except for a small village with lots of palm trees. By Gili T standards, this is remote. To go back to the main strip which has restaurants, spas, pubs and cafés, it’s at least a 20-minute bumpy horse cart ride. Or the alternative would be to bicycle. 

Queen Villas aka Aston is rather concrete with rough finishing though I’m quite impressed with the room for the price I pay (110 USD a night). The spacious room is equipped with a gigantic king size bed, a neat bathroom and a balcony that overlooks the pool and gardens, which, I believe needs a professional tending.  

“The bikes are free, Sir! Provided by the hotel”, assures Darma, a Balinese reception staff with a smile that could light up the dark grey sky. It’s almost 3pm and we haven’t had our lunch. We each get a bike and furious-ride back to the main strip. On the way, we pass by loved up newly-weds on unicycles (I swear it’s true), overly baked beach cookies relishing the sun and fat Russian tourists in skimpy speedos. “Pearl Beach Lounge”, arguably the “Ku De Ta” of Gili T, is the swankiest beachfront establishment here.  It looks pretty new but undoubtedly a popular hangout. 

I order a Caipirinha and a few Indonesian delights to nibble. “Sorry for waiting, Sir! The bar is busy”, apologises the waiter when I scoff at him for taking so long. Well, “busy”, I can see. All comfy couches with umbrellas have been taken. There are only a few sun-tanning beanbags left, laid out side by side on the clean white sand facing the piercing blue ocean. I take over one and meet the sun. My two friends, on the other hand, are truly Asian; they prefer to sit in the shade even after a bottle of SPF 35 generously splashed across their bodies. Figure why whitening lotions sell so well in Asia. 

After a few too many Caipirinhas, it’s time to carry my two and half shades darker self home. We return to Aston in order to catch sunset from the beachfront bar. The perk of being in the further west of the island is that we are treated to the magnificent view of Mount Agung from Bali, gloriously peaking out of the sea, backed by the sunset symphony. It is unfortunately a cloudy day therefore the peak of the mountain is veiled partially by the cirrus clouds. I put my DSLR away and also stop Instagramming my shots on iPhone. Sometimes, I stress too much on simply nothing and forget to just ‘be’. I order a large Bintang beer and rest my back against the comfy lounge chair. The idea of heaven really is not that complex.

After breakfast, we head out to the jetty on a cidomo around 9:30 am. We have booked the glass-bottom boat for our snorkelling trip. It is busier than I’ve expected at the jetty today. We are told to pre-order our lunch from the menu before boarding, as lunch is included in the package.

“Only order items less than 40,000 rupiah”, yells a frustrated looking man who sits in the tiny ticket booth. The young Australian couple who initially wanted Angus steak with fries settles on a Nasi Goreng (fried rice), which costs 35,000 rupiah. We opt for Nasi Goreng as well, keeping it simple. Let’s just not make the man any madder!

The boat fills up immediately. I hear many languages spoken. Four bikini-clad babes have taken their spots at the front deck where the direct sunlight is 100% guaranteed. Next to me sit an elderly couple from South Korea, equipped with caps, backpack, water bottles and the whole nine yards. A young fella, possibly not more than 18, has been chatting up the storm with nearly everyone around him. I notice that he’s openly smoking a joint. A few minutes later, an older gentleman comes and takes a spot next to him. He as well is holding a join in his fingers and guess what, he is the father of the young chap. I’ve learned from their accent that they are Australians. The two men are clearly on a higher level, obnoxiously loud, giggly and annoying.  A young American couple watches this unfold, wide-eyed, with pure fascination and disbelief.

I grow impatient, as the boat hasn’t left although it is full. Then I realise why it’s being held up. The mother from the joint-smoking family is having a dispute with the guy from the ticket office. I can’t quite figure out what the problem is but in the end they all get off from the boat leaving us in peace. A certain sharp-tongued Aussie friend of mine appears on my mind. He would have rolled his eyes, called them ‘Bogans’ and totally shut them up.

I’ve tried snorkelling a few times before. But I find it difficult to breathe through the mask and swim with fins. So I always end up seeing nothing, struggling to stay afloat the whole time. This time as well is no exception. Besides, where they drop us off, a few hundred meters off Gili T, the water is way too deep and there’s really not much one could see. 

However, this changes at our second spot, off Gili Meno, the middle island. From the boat, I could see the shore. There are a few catamarans docked in a distance and a number of swimmers in the water, possibly the tourists who are putting up at one of those beachfront properties. Not the one to easily give up, I decide to go again. The water is much shallower here and there are thousands of fish down below. About 10 minutes in the water, I’ve mastered the art of breathing through the mask. I put away the flippers subsequently and decide to swim without. I begin to enjoy the experience. Two French guys from our boat are incredible divers. They each take a big piece of bread, dive down to the bottom and start feeding the fish. Soon it has turned into a scene that one could only see in an aquarium. But it is happening right before my eyes and in a natural habitat.

My two friends are not comfortable swimming without their life jackets in the open waters. They float around the boat in their neon-orange ensemble looking quite comical. 30 minutes is all we’ve got and soon we head towards Gilli Air for lunch. Understandably, the service is slow and the food is atrocious. What can we expect from an all-inclusive 10-dollar snorkelling package. I shove the so-called fried rice (a literal version, really, rice fried with nothing else but a few pieces of carrot and cabbage) down with, what could have been, if I can remember, three small bottles of beer. Maybe more.

Now that I’ve improved my skills and found success in Snorkelogy, I am one of those who jump into the water first when we reach the third and last spot.

“Look, Look, there’s a turtle down there”, advises our snorkelling guide.

I quickly adjust my mask and look down. Within minutes, I spy the slow-moving turtle approximately 15 feet down under next to a mammoth flower-like coral. Such graceful creature!

As I’ve become more comfortable using the mask and swimming without the flippers. I find it quite liberating. I keep a steady breathing pattern, which stays in sync with my breaststrokes and kicks. It’s truly magical. I have seen so many fish yet I’m still finding Nemo. I do get scared every now and then. Especially when what-ifs enter my mind. What if I get too tired? What if I get cramps? What if I get left behind? But I compose myself and keep going.

I now understand why people dive. It’s a whole world out there. The feeling of having overcome my fear and gaining new experience is indescribably precious. I’d do it again. 

When we get back to Gili T, my bladder is about to explode thanks to three beers that I willingly swallowed (I should have known better!). I didn’t want to release myself in the sea either. “What if someone swimming nearby notices? I mean, the water is pristine and the colour is definitely not yellow” Thankfully, I find a toilet not far from the jetty.

Three of us agree on the idea of having a massage. We pass by a couple of spas in the main strip but we choose “Black Penny” as it appears to be clean and not too busy. What a great choice, I must say. The male masseur I have is skilful, intuitive and able take my tired body to a state somewhere between deep sleep and consciousness. That’s what pampering feels like. Adele’s “Someone Like You”, a remix version, is faintly playing from a café house nearby. Then suddenly I hear the thunder rolling. “Wait, is it going to rain?” It was all sunshine and blue sky all morning. “Am I hallucinating?”

Soon I feel teeny tiny drops of rain falling on my face. The thatch-roofed spa obviously has some little leaks. That beautiful natural aroma instigated when rain and soil collaborate, is both familiar and melancholy.  Not only does it confirm the change of weather but also wake me up from the delirium.

“Your massage is finished, sir”, says my masseur aka the man with the Midas touch. I’m practically gold; perfectly tanned and presently illuminated by lavender oil. The three of us walk out feeling like products freshly manufactured out of factory. I suggest that we stick around for both sunset and dinner in the area.

While the boys grab a bite at a restaurant, I go for a stroll. With the downpour earlier, the sunset of course is dismissed. An enormous rainbow is left behind, if that’s any consolation. But as twilight approaches, a rather unique ambience arrives. The smell of the rain is very much intact in the air. The rising tide is gently brushing up my bare feet, warm and inviting as I walk along the beach. The sun is long gone yet its orangey rays can still be traced behind the hills of Lombok. A couple, seemingly on their honeymoon, is taking a selfie near the pier, not far from the beach joint, Pearl. I leave my camera bag on the sand, further away from water, undress myself and hurry down towards the approaching tide. I reward myself a one last dip.