We sadly left our dear compatriot, Jade, this week and, like James Bond (a seasick James Bond), caught a speed boat for the smallest of the trio of Gili Islands off Lombok, Gili Air. Upon arriving, we quickly found out that our booked accommodation does not actually exist on Gili Air or any of the Gili Islands for that matter. A discrepancy in the hotel listings on a booking website that shall remain unnamed (www.hotelbookers.com). I will admit that it made me feel better knowing it was not our error, an important distinction since at this point I am seasick, hungry and generally grumpy from having to leave Jade that morning. We were then faced with either finding last minute accommodation New Years week (the Gilis being an Australian vacation hot spot) or paying for yet another turbulent boat ride to the location of the pre-booked hotel. After we pouted and stewed (mostly me) over the blunder, we took the first important step to remedying the situation and fed ourselves. Then, with (admitted) minimal effort, we secured a place to stay. Afterward, it was funny to step back and get some perspective on the "big ordeal" of the week. Here are the top three Reasons Why Life is Not That Hard and to Get Over Ourselves:
1. Ending up on the wrong tropical island. Really?! I think most of my employed friends would respectfully tell me to fuck off.
2. Whiskey. It'll make you feel better.
3. Shoes and bras are completely optional on beautiful islands such as this. Clothing I have completely opted out of at this point.
Gili Air's vibe is even so relaxed that we saw a foreign guy wearing only his t-shirt and bikini-cut man panties. I am not quite dense enough to think that we are not also foreigners while outside of the United State's boundaries, but he himself was not Indonesian nor was he a native english speaker. Therefore, very foreign. His chosen butt attire was not just your standard European speedos that men of all seeming shapes and sizes like to flaunt at the beach. These were 100% cotton, non-seaworthy, slightly saggy manties. At dinner, our favorite pantless man shows up, thankfully in his dinner attire this time; the same t-shirt and a fresh pair of drawers. The only distinction being that these skivvies were a different color and, might I say at the risk of sounding like I was over observing, a slightly different cut. My refusal to wear underwire in this heat really just seems formal at this point.
Before you go thinking this island is just a game of Strip Poker, Gili Air is a darling, quaint island; even smaller than Nusa Lembongan where we spent Christmas. There are only sand roads and absolutely no motor vehicles. They say you can circumnavigate the whole thing in 90 minutes. Not that anyone is counting, but Kelly and I, the physical specimens that we are, did it in 75 minutes. Barefoot. A challenging hike indeed. The only other mode of transport are the pony drawn carts. Too small of island even for full size horses I guess. The carts are festooned with baubles, flare and cute little jingle bells. Turns out the bells are less for decoration and more for pedestrian safety since we couldn't hear the ponies coming due to the silence of their tiny hooves on the sand roads. It's simply adorable here.
The only exception I've seen to the incredibly laid back atmosphere here is the Indonesians' enthusiasm for New Years. All the restaurants and bars heavily competed for our attention, touting the best party on the island. There are huge bonfires on the beach, so much bass thumping music on the island that our hostel was loosing power every few minutes and a proffered drug smorgasbord that would make Pablo Escobar blush. Being such a small island, there are no police here and despite the harsh drug laws here, including the death penalty, locals are more than happy to tell you all about the psychedelic cocktails they're drinking to celebrate bringing in the New Year. Restaurants are incredibly open about selling magic mushrooms at their establishments, going so far as to put it on the Daily Special Board. I must be getting old, but my curiosity for foreign prisons is extremely low these days, so we decided not to test the Indonesian drug laws and settled for a quiet evening with a bottle of whiskey and a beach rave. Not a good combination to support our new year's resolution to begin our training as yoga masters, however, perfect if our goal was to bring in 2012 with a raging hangover.
SO in love with all of it! However... that pony is WAY too small to be pulling you... ha ha!
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