Sunrise in Bali - Across the Pond Trilogy (Book 1) by L.A. Shorter Read Free Book Online Page B

honey,” Sarah was next to her in a shot, giving
her a hug. “Look, forget about all of this....forget about those
stupid boys. Let's just enjoy the trip, shall we? That's what we're
here for right....to get AWAY from those boys....not to find another
dickhead. Sure, he's English and everything, but I'm sure they're
dickheads too...”

    With
that Jenny gave out a muffled chuckle from Sarah's shoulder. “You
always know how to make me laugh,” she said, pulling pack and
wiping away her tears. “You're right....you're always right.”

Chapter 7
    In
the morning of the next day the group made their way inland towards
Mt Rinjani, the highest peak on the island. If Jenny thought that
Bali was a far cry from her life in New York, she was about to see
what the next level looked like. It became immediately apparent to
the group that Lombok was the lesser traveled of the two islands and,
although it offered just as much of interest, the drinking culture
that attracted so many young travelers to Bali simply didn't exist
here. For Jenny, that was perfect. She did enough of that at college,
and was sure she could enjoy a few nights out when the tour ended
back in Bali if she wanted. For now, she wanted a cultural
experience.

    After
a couple of hours drive inland, they arrived at Mt Rinjani, a
spectacular volcano that, unfortunately, they were only scheduled to
see from the valley below. According to Andy, the mountain was, like
Batur, actually a dormant volcano, but a far more visually arresting
one from the top. Within the massive crater is an expansive lake, he
explained, thousands of feet up in the air, that looks stunning
against the backdrop of the sheer rock faces. Having climbed to the
peak several times before, Andy was happy to gush about the
experience to anyone who'd listen, although it seemed as though Mark
and Henry, in particular, were feeling the sting of envy with every
word he spoke. Andrew, meanwhile, was delighted, having booked in a
separate tour to the summit of the volcano when their current
adventure ended. By this point, both Mark and Henry had had to walk
away from the conversation, which brought a smirk to Jenny's face.

    On
arrival, the group checked into their hotel. Although, this time, it
wasn't a hotel, but a guesthouse. On the hillside were a series of
huts and basic shelters, made purely from local wood sources, and
lacking any sort of luxury amenities. Each was nestled in between
beautiful trees and plants, with chickens and other small farmyard
animals sharing the space with them. At dinner, they'd sit round a
large rectangular wood table, rustic and strong, that looked as
through it had been handcarved from a single piece of wood. It was
silent, too, Jenny noted, a village atmosphere that lacked any form
of outside interference save the odd travel group passing by. There
was no a-la-carte menu, no team of waiters, no long list of beverages
to choose from. You'd get what you were given here, and Jenny was all
the happier for it.

    Through
the afternoon they trekked the paths around the foothills at the base
of the mountain, passing by small villages as they went. The locals
would flock to them as they passed, intrigued by their funny shoes
and flashing cameras. At one village, they passed by a school where
dozens of young children were at play in a dusty courtyard. Andrew
was a particular hit here, taking pictures of the kids and letting
them play with his phone. “Crikey,” Sarah whispered to Jenny,
“I'm not sure I'd let them get their hands on my iPhone!”

    The
day continued to go by lazily, the group exploring for miles around
their guesthouses, passing not only villages, but tranquil rice
paddies, rushing waterfalls, and sky blue lakes bordered by deep
green vegetation. There wasn't much laughter, not much joking and
talking: it didn't seem in keeping with the place. It was the sort of
experience that Jenny would cling to for the rest of her life, one
full of peace and tranquility, one