As I mentioned yesterday, my second trip to Indonesia was a comical carbon copy of my first — starting with a few days on Lembongan Island, a charming island just off the coast of Bali’s southern cone.
This time I was not only reuniting with Anders after six weeks apart, but also meeting both his parents — while under the heavy influence of jetlag. Talk about relationship thunderdome! They generously treated us to a beautiful bungalows at Rigils, which were the perfect settings from which to recover from thirty five hours of door to door travel.
Another wonderful way to recover from traveling across Earth, and the jetlag that accompanies it? Scuba diving, of course! Which is exactly what we did on my first full day back in Indonesia. I admit I was less than enthusiastic when we were gearing up, but damn if manta rays don’t make every single bit of life worth living.
Like my previous diving trip to Lembongan Island, I was blessed in the manta ray department, and unlucky in the mola mola one. When we descended into the mola mola dive site, another diver gave us the signal and pointed behind him. My heart skipped a beat. Sadly, they didn’t stick around – and somehow not seeing them was even more painful when I knew others that same day did.