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Flashback to Gili Air
This morning I awoke on a train bound for Bangkok. But yesterday, I awoke on the island of Koh Samui and, knowing my remaining time there was brief, I went for a quick swim. Floating in the warm, green water -- mesmerized by the luster of satin-looking wavelets -- my thoughts turned back to Indonesia's Gili Air. We'd come from there before voyaging to Koh Samui and being in the water, under the sun, my thoughts drifted...
And so I feel that I should record them properly, here on this blog, before the vivid details fade.
Gili Air
We left for the Gili islands in a small, colorful fishing boat -- crossing the waters of the Java sea, leaving the sweeping cone of Bali's tallest volcano, Mt Agung, behind -- heading towards... towards nothing! There was no land visible on the horizon. I kept looking back at Bali for comfort (I like seeing land on the horizon).
Seems that clouds are attracted to land because above us and the sea, the sky was blue without as much as a tuft of white cumulus in sight. But over Bali, the volcano in particular, fluffy clouds floated above like helium balloons tied down with string. As we tackled the surly waves and moved farther from Bali, ocean mist settled between the lovable land mass and our boat, further diminishing its view. But there was always a trace of the volcano -- an impressive sight, a volcano rising up and out of the sea.
Eventually, there was land in sight ahead of us. Lombok was only hidden by ocean mist and I was thankful to see the smudge of the island appear and grow more solid with each passing minute. And then I saw the Gilis -- three tiny islands (they are islands off the coast of Lombok), flat as pancakes, rimmed with white and trimmed with green -- all floating above waters of deep aquamarine and, closer to shore, turquoise with the clarity of glass.
First we passed Gili Trawagan, "the party island," as it is known. Then we passed Gili Meno, "the honeymooner's island," as it is called. And then we arrived on Gili Air, "the island for everyone else," I've dubbed it.
What a way to arrive -- our 'driver' beached the boat and we hopped out onto the sandy shores as if stepping out of a cab onto a street corner. We were wet from the journey and soon covered in sand -- hair wild from the wind of salty air during the sea voyage -- skin burned to a fine shade of pink. It was perfect.
And it was more perfect because there was no-one there: no vendors, hawkers, touts that are found on arrival anywhere in the world. Luckily, there was one guy there with his pony cart -- we weren't in the mood to walk. And that's all you can do on Gili Air to get around: walk or bicycle or ride in a pony cart. There are no roads, no automobiles, no motorbikes and the accompanying annoyances that go with them: noise, traffic... even purpose, for that matter. Life on the Gilis is slow and mellow. Why, they've only had electricity on the island for 10 years.
Gili Air is the closest island to Lombok and of the three islands, is like the "middle child" -- it is somewhat larger than Meno, but smaller that Trawagan; it has more people than Meno, but less than Trawagan (Air has a population of 300). It is more active than Meno, but less so than Trawagan. It's easy to ferry to all three islands, as they are only several kilometers apart, but we spent most of our time on Air.
The beaches of Gili Air are, mostly, full of white broken coral which made the most delicate, musical sound as the ocean lapped its waves upon the shore -- the sound reminded me of a 'rain stick'. There is sandy beach, too, on the Southern end of the island -- but we stayed North, where the tract of sand used by pony cart ends and traffic is all by foot. We only saw a small number of people pass by our bungalows each day, though. It was easy to feel like we were the only ones on the island at times and when someone did pass by, I couldn't help but wonder where they could possibly be headed.
We spent a lot of time lounging on pillowed burugas on the beach -- traditional wooden platforms with thatched roof -- completely open on all sides, with unobstructed views of the ocean and Lombok (or Gili Meno) beyond. Burugas line the circumference of the island and on a walk around Gili Air, which takes all of 1 hour, we would see people slumbering, reading, eating, chatting in burugas -- all private, all comfortable, all with astounding views.
Our bungalows had burugas instead of tables at their restaurant (like all the restaurants on Air). Every morning we would rise for breakfast, lean against the pillows and eat from the low table, all while gazing at Lombok's volcano, Mt Rinjani... or fisherman collecting their nets... or we'd watch the morning light sparkle on the waves like blinding prisms. In the eve, we would take our dinner there and watch the sky turn pink and darkness settle over Lombok. And later, we would have drinks with friends -- all of us lounging on pillows as if were were gods.
The reefs of the Gilis are impressive -- they looked like strange urban scenes from a sci-fi movie, with huge domes and spires and brainy-looking things. And in this setting, a metropolis under the sea, schools of colorful fish of all shapes and sizes... striped and polka-dotted, round, triangular, tansparent, flashy. I've never seen so many different kinds of fish, so many different patterns and textures and colors. The fish weren't afraid of humans, either. I swam with several schools as if I were just one of gang.
When the tide goes out, it's as if the water is heading to the horizon line: one could walk for what seems like forever before getting into water deeper than the knees. And when the tide goes out, there are tidal pools amidst the exposed reef with creatures like star fish, anenomes, sea stars, hermit crabs, sea slugs, and tiny tranparent fish.
Everywhere on the island, there are fantastical-looking sculptures made with sea trees (black, curly, twiggy branches) and shells. There are windchimes and mobiles made with shells, lampshades made with shells, even "beaded curtains" made with shells. All the furniture is made with bamboo -- I don't recall seeing any plastic -- and all of the structures are made with wood, often carved with intricate designs, and thatched roofs. Like my experiences in Bali, it seemed that the human constructions were an extension of nature instead of an addition to it. Natural materials -- island materials -- like wood and shells and thatch gave Air the feeling of living 'with' the island instead of 'on' it.
Having no roads or pavement helps, too. What there are of roads -- for the pony carts -- are basically tracts in the sand. Narrow footpaths criss-cross the island for pedestrians and bicyclists (althouth the bikes often get stuck in the sand). Footpaths tread past homes, under arcs of bouganvalia, by pastures with cows grazing under coconut trees.
We looked for the market one day and coming upon a tiny stand of vegetables and fruit and other sundry items along a sandy-dirt pathway, we almost missed it. In fact, others we talked to had walked right by it. It looked like what one would see at a market -- one vendor's table maybe -- but this was the entire market. There just aren't many people on the island and the best part is, that the island feels like it is first an island where people live and second an island for vacationers. Usually it is the other way around and this was refreshing.
Being a small island, there are no police or things of that nature. The island is really a village, and so there is a village chief who is the man-in-charge of everything. He has outlawed pool because gambling is a no-no in Muslim culture (and Lombok and the Gilis are mostly Muslim). He is 30 years old, I believe, and is the village chief for all of the Gili Islands, though he lives on Air. I thought a village chief should be an old, wrinkled man -- probably because of such images from National Geographic and the like. But this guy is young and he was elected -- they Gili-islanders elect their village chief every 5 years. Even without police, there is no crime in the Gilis. I think the islands are too small to get away with anything and the people are too mellow to bother with crime in the first place.
I think I could go on and on... about the chorus of roosters in the morning, the azure skies, the coconut palm groves and scrubby trees, the delicious food, the afternoon breeze and hot, still mornings, the quiet and the tranquility... But I won't. I'll end here and leave something for you to discover on your own...
And so I feel that I should record them properly, here on this blog, before the vivid details fade.
Gili Air
We left for the Gili islands in a small, colorful fishing boat -- crossing the waters of the Java sea, leaving the sweeping cone of Bali's tallest volcano, Mt Agung, behind -- heading towards... towards nothing! There was no land visible on the horizon. I kept looking back at Bali for comfort (I like seeing land on the horizon).
Seems that clouds are attracted to land because above us and the sea, the sky was blue without as much as a tuft of white cumulus in sight. But over Bali, the volcano in particular, fluffy clouds floated above like helium balloons tied down with string. As we tackled the surly waves and moved farther from Bali, ocean mist settled between the lovable land mass and our boat, further diminishing its view. But there was always a trace of the volcano -- an impressive sight, a volcano rising up and out of the sea.
Eventually, there was land in sight ahead of us. Lombok was only hidden by ocean mist and I was thankful to see the smudge of the island appear and grow more solid with each passing minute. And then I saw the Gilis -- three tiny islands (they are islands off the coast of Lombok), flat as pancakes, rimmed with white and trimmed with green -- all floating above waters of deep aquamarine and, closer to shore, turquoise with the clarity of glass.
First we passed Gili Trawagan, "the party island," as it is known. Then we passed Gili Meno, "the honeymooner's island," as it is called. And then we arrived on Gili Air, "the island for everyone else," I've dubbed it.
What a way to arrive -- our 'driver' beached the boat and we hopped out onto the sandy shores as if stepping out of a cab onto a street corner. We were wet from the journey and soon covered in sand -- hair wild from the wind of salty air during the sea voyage -- skin burned to a fine shade of pink. It was perfect.
And it was more perfect because there was no-one there: no vendors, hawkers, touts that are found on arrival anywhere in the world. Luckily, there was one guy there with his pony cart -- we weren't in the mood to walk. And that's all you can do on Gili Air to get around: walk or bicycle or ride in a pony cart. There are no roads, no automobiles, no motorbikes and the accompanying annoyances that go with them: noise, traffic... even purpose, for that matter. Life on the Gilis is slow and mellow. Why, they've only had electricity on the island for 10 years.
Gili Air is the closest island to Lombok and of the three islands, is like the "middle child" -- it is somewhat larger than Meno, but smaller that Trawagan; it has more people than Meno, but less than Trawagan (Air has a population of 300). It is more active than Meno, but less so than Trawagan. It's easy to ferry to all three islands, as they are only several kilometers apart, but we spent most of our time on Air.
The beaches of Gili Air are, mostly, full of white broken coral which made the most delicate, musical sound as the ocean lapped its waves upon the shore -- the sound reminded me of a 'rain stick'. There is sandy beach, too, on the Southern end of the island -- but we stayed North, where the tract of sand used by pony cart ends and traffic is all by foot. We only saw a small number of people pass by our bungalows each day, though. It was easy to feel like we were the only ones on the island at times and when someone did pass by, I couldn't help but wonder where they could possibly be headed.
We spent a lot of time lounging on pillowed burugas on the beach -- traditional wooden platforms with thatched roof -- completely open on all sides, with unobstructed views of the ocean and Lombok (or Gili Meno) beyond. Burugas line the circumference of the island and on a walk around Gili Air, which takes all of 1 hour, we would see people slumbering, reading, eating, chatting in burugas -- all private, all comfortable, all with astounding views.
Our bungalows had burugas instead of tables at their restaurant (like all the restaurants on Air). Every morning we would rise for breakfast, lean against the pillows and eat from the low table, all while gazing at Lombok's volcano, Mt Rinjani... or fisherman collecting their nets... or we'd watch the morning light sparkle on the waves like blinding prisms. In the eve, we would take our dinner there and watch the sky turn pink and darkness settle over Lombok. And later, we would have drinks with friends -- all of us lounging on pillows as if were were gods.
The reefs of the Gilis are impressive -- they looked like strange urban scenes from a sci-fi movie, with huge domes and spires and brainy-looking things. And in this setting, a metropolis under the sea, schools of colorful fish of all shapes and sizes... striped and polka-dotted, round, triangular, tansparent, flashy. I've never seen so many different kinds of fish, so many different patterns and textures and colors. The fish weren't afraid of humans, either. I swam with several schools as if I were just one of gang.
When the tide goes out, it's as if the water is heading to the horizon line: one could walk for what seems like forever before getting into water deeper than the knees. And when the tide goes out, there are tidal pools amidst the exposed reef with creatures like star fish, anenomes, sea stars, hermit crabs, sea slugs, and tiny tranparent fish.
Everywhere on the island, there are fantastical-looking sculptures made with sea trees (black, curly, twiggy branches) and shells. There are windchimes and mobiles made with shells, lampshades made with shells, even "beaded curtains" made with shells. All the furniture is made with bamboo -- I don't recall seeing any plastic -- and all of the structures are made with wood, often carved with intricate designs, and thatched roofs. Like my experiences in Bali, it seemed that the human constructions were an extension of nature instead of an addition to it. Natural materials -- island materials -- like wood and shells and thatch gave Air the feeling of living 'with' the island instead of 'on' it.
Having no roads or pavement helps, too. What there are of roads -- for the pony carts -- are basically tracts in the sand. Narrow footpaths criss-cross the island for pedestrians and bicyclists (althouth the bikes often get stuck in the sand). Footpaths tread past homes, under arcs of bouganvalia, by pastures with cows grazing under coconut trees.
We looked for the market one day and coming upon a tiny stand of vegetables and fruit and other sundry items along a sandy-dirt pathway, we almost missed it. In fact, others we talked to had walked right by it. It looked like what one would see at a market -- one vendor's table maybe -- but this was the entire market. There just aren't many people on the island and the best part is, that the island feels like it is first an island where people live and second an island for vacationers. Usually it is the other way around and this was refreshing.
Being a small island, there are no police or things of that nature. The island is really a village, and so there is a village chief who is the man-in-charge of everything. He has outlawed pool because gambling is a no-no in Muslim culture (and Lombok and the Gilis are mostly Muslim). He is 30 years old, I believe, and is the village chief for all of the Gili Islands, though he lives on Air. I thought a village chief should be an old, wrinkled man -- probably because of such images from National Geographic and the like. But this guy is young and he was elected -- they Gili-islanders elect their village chief every 5 years. Even without police, there is no crime in the Gilis. I think the islands are too small to get away with anything and the people are too mellow to bother with crime in the first place.
I think I could go on and on... about the chorus of roosters in the morning, the azure skies, the coconut palm groves and scrubby trees, the delicious food, the afternoon breeze and hot, still mornings, the quiet and the tranquility... But I won't. I'll end here and leave something for you to discover on your own...
posted by Cheryn at 11:10 AM
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