Senggigi, Lombok: The mosquito and the mosque.

Following on from Jacqui's Ubud blog below, we then travelled to the north coast of Bali and the sleepy seaside town of Lovina. Apparently its rammed in the summer, but now during low season it was bordering on desolate. The reason for going was dolphin watching. We headed out at dawn with the promise of a 50 percent refund if we didn't see Flipper and Co. This proved unnecessary as we were soon bobbing around with a couple of dozen inquisitive bottle-nosed. Our longboat-cum-bamboo-catamaran was surprisingly speedy, and we were able to follow the pod (one of various collective nouns I could have chosen here) and get some great shots as they swam in - and even occasionally jumped clear out of - the water.

Next day we were off to the mountain village of Kedisan, from where we would begin our trek up Mount Batur (an active volcano which last erupted in a frighteningly recent 2000). We didn't know that we both had to hop on the back of someone else's cruddy motorbike when we signed up for this. We set off at 5am and clung on tight as the biker dropped us off at the starting point. It was rainy and foggy, and so you can imagine we weren't in the best of moods as the trek begin. In fact, for inexperienced climbers like us, it was gruelling all the way up because we were soaked and the fog meant we couldn't enjoy the scenery. However, once we reached the top, the skies cleared and we were able to get some good photos of Lake Batur and other even bigger mountains in the distance - not to mention shots of the craters from previous eruptions. Our guide then cooked some eggs in a hole that had hot steam coming out of it. Jacqui enjoyed hers, but I gave mine to a mangy dog with tics that had been hanging around looking like it might die if it didn't eat. The locals in Kedisan were weird. One cocky chap with less English than most here claimed he was 'intimate with Beckham'. I think he chose the wrong word, but Jacqui smiled politely anyway.

Our journey from Kedisan to Tulamben (where we snorkelled the wreck of the US cargo ship Liberty, which sank in 1942), was peppered with coloured flags and posters of election candidates stuck onto any available surface. It seems that if you want to get ahead in Indonesian politics you need a) shedloads of flags; b) a nifty little thumbs up gesture in your campaign poster; and c) a moustache. The last of these is perhaps the most important. My favourite were the candidates for the red PDI Perjuangan party, mainly because of their rather ominous party logo.

Snorkelling was tough but eventually rewarding. The rocky beach and crashing waves made it damn difficult to get started - especially in flippers which would catch with every wave and make you lose your balance. Soon enough we worked out that going in backwards - while odd looking - was the best solution. We saw all the usual wrasse, etc, but the highlight was a huge shoal of spooky, beady-eyed jackfish.

One part of Indonesian culture shock that I didn't experience last time was the concept of every man being able to sell you everything from transport, to a hotel, to trips to other places. What this actually means is that you pay slightly over the odds, and he then calls the real experts and takes a slight cut. Or a big cut if you negotiate poorly. A few times now we've booked transport with one man, who sometimes even points at his car and uses phrases like "I will pick you up at 8am". Next morning: different (often better) car, and different man. Replacement is usually the 'brother' or 'cousin' of the seller. Apparently.

One final note on Bali: its pleasing to discover that white dog poo still exists here. Most children of the 1970s and 1980s will remember seeing white dog poo when they were kids, but you just don't see it anymore. Jacqui gave me an odd look when I made a small cheer upon spotting a crusty, white pile of canine dung. The things you get nostalgic for...

We're now in the coastal resort of Senggigi on the island of Lombok (east of Bali). The locals seem less determined to charge us stupid prices and the whole approach seems a lot more relaxed. Last night we took advantage of happy hour at a beach-side bar, haggled with locals over jewellery and a sarong, before having dinner in a bar with the tightest house band I've ever seen. They mostly did Stones covers, so I was in my element. Our night's sleep was disturbed by a mosquito that found Jacqui very tasty and also the nearby mosque at about 4.30am. The muezzin making the call to prayer - through a very loud but fuzzy sound system - was really going for it. Far more gusto than you hear from the big one in Regent's Park. His incessant warbling then started again mid-morning which eventually got us out of bed. Next stop: the Gili Islands, for much needed rest and recuperation. All three islands - Gili Trawangan, Gili Meno and Gili Air - are devoid of motorised transport, which should be jolly peaceful. We've done so much in our first month, slowing down a bit should do us - and our budget - plenty of good.