We moved 4 kms so we could have coconut palms obscuring the view of the sunset. Lovina has a long way to go before it reaches the crescendo of Kuta; hopefully it never will.
The waves rarely crest above six inches in the mornings: as at Anturan it’s as smooth as a millpond. A cliché but true as, with glasses in my mask, I coast above the tops of coral reefs which appear to be in decline. Maybe this is the inner reef we’ve been exploring, with sediment building up.
Shells there are a-plenty, as our beach balustrade testifies. I don’t know how we’re going to get them all back to Jakarta, though most are quite small.
My ear infection dims the sound of the sarong sellers who, thankfully, are barred from Nirwana premises. They wait instead at the steps onto the beach.
Still, this is the life of of a Sybarite, or just another sunset.
This is a perfectly awful drink. I’d even feel ashamed if I’d brewed it myself!