After our friendly intro to Indonesia at the ferry, we piled
onto a shuttle bus. The view during the hour’s drive was interesting – decent road (may only be so for the tourists;
the side roads looked suspect), well-kept if not quite thriving villages, neat
one-storey schools, an imposing army barracks and terrifying driving.
The Agro resort – ironic name, for while we were there,
aggro I experienced none – was perfect for a one-day/one-night hit of ‘paradise’.
The rooms left a little to be desired, but when you have a pool, plenty of
sunbeds and a view like the above, what do you need a stuffy hotel room for?
Within minutes of arriving, we were in the pool chatting
with the 7 other people in our party that had preceded us by a day. They had
invited Charis, who had invited us in turn, on this jaunt, and so I expected
them to be firm friends of long-standing. Wrong – most had met only 2 weeks
before via an expat forum, and were now on holiday together. That’s how expats
seem to roll. it was refreshing – it meant a diverse range of backgrounds and
jobs, making for easy conversation.
Only issue was that the midday sun near the equator is not
at all like the sun in, say, Greece. We had ignored the fact the locals were
all taking cover, and slathered on factor 50 and hoped for the best. Despite
this, by the time we got out of the pool 40 minutes later, Claire, Charis and I
were hopelessly burnt.
I am still red now, 3 days later, and beginning to peel. Mad
dogs and Englishmen etc.
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