We made it.! We finally made it. Assuming you’ve read Jeff’s last blog, then you know what it took to get here. To get to the remote speck of an island that is Derawan, you truly have to want to. And probably for this very reason, it remains virtually untouched. If all the Balis, Cancuns, Bahamas, and Oahus of the world have all become (or are on their way to becoming) paradises lost, then Derawan is still paradise without all the hype and “extras”. There are no resorts on the island. Well, actually there is one-a dive resort. But it is the furthest thing from a Hyatt or Four Seasons as possible-just a bunch of nice bungalows on stilts over the water, with flush toilets in the bathrooms.
For $970, one can enjoy 5-nights accomodation with 3 dives per day. Instead, Jeff and I are staying within striking distance from the resort, also over the water at a charming little guesthouse. Our room is $8 per night, with free breakfast, a clean shared bathroom and squat toilet.
After arriving and having our Oreos, we wondered what exactly we were going to do to occupy our days here. A walk around the perimeter of the entire island took half an hour. The only electricity comes from generators that power up from 6 pm to 6 am daily. Aside from a few warungs and restaurants that operate out of homes, the only forms entertainment seem to be an outdoor volleyball court and stage area, an indoor badminton court, and a concrete mini-golf course (of all things). And 360 degrees of ocean.
The snorkeling is out of this world–we see new creatures each time. There are coconut, banana, and palm trees dotting the white sand, and of course the water is a crystal clear aqua blue that fades to a bright royal blue at the drop offs. But what makes it paradise, is that it doesn’t try to create authenticity. There’s just no need. We spend hours just watching island life going on around us. Men fish, do repairs, smoke in the shade. Women sit in small groups after completing their many chores.
The children are some of the friendliest, funniest bunch we’ve come across. They are everywhere! They ask us our names over and over. We watch them as they climb trees (or anything climbable), sing Indonesian pop songs at the top of their lungs, play games with whatever has washed up on shore, and get a good scolding or two. The calm is periodically broken by the sound of their voices, a motor boat, a falling coconut.
Eel swimming around can of sardines (seen during our lunch)
It may be tiny. It may be quiet. But we have experienced highlight after highlight, and moments that take our breath away everyday. Now, here we are seven days later and trying to figure out a way to stay just a few more days.
The one and only day trip we have gone on was an excursion to “jellyfish lake” as we like to call it, as I don’t know if the lagoon has an actual name. This might be a good thing because it is one of those secret places that you want to keep all to yourself (although it was one of the major reasons we came to Indonesia and something Jeff has been talking about for the past seven months now).
As our speed boat approached the island, I silently hoped it wouldn’t disappoint. Here’s the deal with “jellyfish lake”. At some point way back in time, there was a shifting of the tectonic plates that resulted in the creation of a lake in the middle of this island. Without any predators, the jellyfish that remained in the lake multiplied as well as evolved, losing their ability to sting. The island setting itself is picturesque, both from the outside as well as from within. The lake was larger than we expected and surrounded by mangroves. We wasted no time putting on our snorkels and fins and jumped right in.
What can I possibly write that might capture the experience of swimming in turquoise waters among thousands of jellyfish? At worst, it was still magical. At best, it was practically spiritual. And if nothing else, it was therapeutic. As I moved slowly through the first few clusters of jellyfish, all I could do was try to stay at a safe distance (because who knows, what if they can sting afterall?), and stare.
But within minutes, I was (gently, of course) poking, pushing, and holding each of the four species of jellyfish that inhabit the lake. Some areas of the lake were so chock full of them that I could feel them bumping into my shoulders and arms and sliding down my stomach and legs as I tried to swim through. It was like being inside a jellyfish screensaver.
We stayed for hours. We stayed until the “crowds” (consisting only of a few other small families and groups) left, and we were the only two people on the lake. On the way back to Derawan, our boat driver let us out for a snorkel on the outside of the island–clear with beautiful reefs and a huge drop-off, which would have been a treat in itself, except that we had just snorkeled with jellyfish!!
Anyway, we’ve developed a basic routine for the rest of our days on Derawan. Wake up whenever it starts to get hot. Have tea and eat breakfast. Sit around, chat, take it all in. Swim with the sea turtles that come to shore daily. Snorkel. Have lunch. Snorkel. Lay out in the sun/shade. Read. Snorkel.
Walk around the beach, look for seashells, other wildlife, or try to catch the sunset. Have dinner. Sit around on porch, hang out and chat with fellow guests. Take bucket shower. Go to bed. Repeat.
