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 It's a simple recipe really. Mix together. Shake well on the deck of a heaving ferry as it lumbers across the Wallace Line that separates the Pacific and Indian Oceans, along with the islands of Bali and Lombok, and stew for five hours. Whichever it was, I could've sworn the clouds hovering over Gili Trawangan resembled a dragon snarling at the hedonism that's made the island famous. The largest of the three Gili islands – along with Meno and Air – off the coast of Lombok is famous for its fire-lit beach parties, attracting backpackers and students tired of the crowds at Thailand's Koh Pha Ngan. But it wasn't the party-heavy Gili Trawangan we were headed for, but the quieter Gili Air another kilometre to the east. It had all started five hours earlier. One taxi, two buses and a rickety tender boat had delivered us to the Perama ferry in the surprisingly picturesque harbour of Padangbai, on the east coast of Bali. Just R220 for the 'three-hour' voyage to the tropical paradise of the Gili Islands… there was no need to bother with the fast boat that was three-times the price. As so often happens in the tropics, three hours became four which rolled into five. African time has a strong competitor in Asia, it would appear. All of a sudden the pricey fast boat wasn't looking so exorbitant after all. It was too late by that stage, and the motley crew of backpackers and gap-year-travellers sprawled on the ferry's deck were – like us – in it for the long-haul. It wasn't all bad though. With flying fish and dolphins for company, and a meal of tempe (delicious soy-bean cakes similar to tofu) and noodles to keep us going we were almost starting to enjoy the journey. At least the crew hadn't fired up the karaoke machine. As our afternoon ETA sunk below the horizon, Bali's Mount Agung showed its face, soaring above the sun-tinged clouds that swathed the island like a monk's saffron robes. As Agung slept and darkness fell, the ferry rumbled to a halt somewhere between Lombok and the deep blue sea. Off in the distance were a handful of twinkling lights, one of them belonging to our guesthouse and a bar filled with cold Bintang. The sound of a droning mosquito merged with the lights and began a dance, shimmering from left to right. The cyclizine again, I wondered? Out of the darkness buzzed a fishing boat, big enough for just a handful of backpackers with luggage, throwing cascades of glowing phosphorescence off the bow as it surged through the waves. Bags were thrown on board and a short algae-lit boat ride later landed us on the sands of Gili Air like two pieces of jetsam, bells ringing in our ears. The bells, however, belonged to Tina. A short, stocky lady who'd been on the island for five years, hers was the never-ending job of hauling tourists from the beach to guesthouses across the island. Adu, our new-found friend, loaded our bags onto his horse-drawn cart and with a flick of the reins set Tina trotting off down the dark island pathways to the doorstep of Coconut Cottages (www.coconuts-giliair.com), our island-style escape for the next week. The sunrise brought with it our first view of Gili Air, named for the fresh-water spring which has made the island a prosperous community boasting two schools and a mosque. Accommodation on the island ranges from simple beach huts to… well, more upmarket beach huts. Coconut Cottages is, like most of the other guesthouses, a laid-back sort of place where throwing a shirt over your board-shorts counts as dressing for dinner. Outdoor showers, walls made of the local alang-alang grass and a hammock swaying on the porch drive home the Robinson Crusoe feel of a place where nothing happens terribly quickly. This is just as well, because there's no reason to rush around these palm-lined atolls. The horse-drawn carts, called cidomos, are the only transport on Gili Air. No motorbikes, no buses, no cars. Apart from padding feet and the occasional whirr of a bicycle wheel, Tina's clippety-clop and jingling bells are about the fastest thing you'll find on the island. And if you don't want to sound like Santa Claus in the tropics the island is small enough to walk around in under an hour. After a breakfast of banana pancakes and sturdy Balinese coffee, your days can be half-full or half-empty. It's entirely up to you. We spent much of our time relaxing in the shade of alang-alang gazebos spread out along the eastern shore of the island, with an occasional burst of activity just so the islanders didn't think we'd passed on; one hand on a beer, the other on a book. In between lengthy periods of sloth, the crystal clear waters just beg to be explored. At a toasty 27 degrees there are no goose-bumps, although the occasional jellyfish did provide an unwelcome reminder that this is the tropics, where things like to sting and bite. Each of the three Gilis is surrounded by a fringing coral reef, ensuring calm water at the beach and great snorkelling further out. Years of dynamite fishing have done the coral no favours, but fishermen realised the error of their ways years ago and the reef is slowly on the mend. Shallow reefs extend 50-metres out from the beach around all three islands, but the snorkelling is usually best off the protected east coast where it's a short swim to the drop-off. As the water gets deeper the coral becomes more impressive, with fantastic table and stag horn formations to admire. The ominous deep-blue of the drop-off sends a tingle of fear down your spine, but take a deep breath, pluck up some courage and peek over the edge to stare to the bottom, twenty-odd metres below. This is the best spot for spying denizens of the deep and you could see anything from barracuda to black-tipped reef sharks. Titan triggerfish, Spotted boxfish and Snapper are all regulars on the reef, and turtles are common passers-by. In fact the Gili islands are famous for their turtles, and it's in no small measure thanks to two enterprising locals. Since 2001 Wayan and Bolong's turtle sanctuary on Gili Meno has nurtured hundreds of turtles each year, ensuring that divers and snorkellers get to enjoy the sight of Loggerhead and Green Sea turtles flapping gracefully alongside. The pair retrieves the eggs from nesting sites around the islands after they have been laid and hatch them in the sand at their sanctuary, keeping them safe from predators – both animal and human. Once the turtles hatch they are kept in make-shift tanks – simple bathtubs and paddle-pools – until they are eight months old, when they are released into the sea with a greatly improved chance of survival. There's an island-hopping service that runs twice a day between Gili Trawangan, Meno and Air, so you can spend the morning with the turtles on Meno, have lunch with the crowds on Trawangan and make it back to Air in time for a dinner at one of the seafood barbecue restaurants. And what a way to end off a day in paradise: waves lapping in the darkness, cold Bintang (and significant other, hopefully) by your side and prawns on the barbecue. You can have a seafood feast for under R50 here, with fried rice and dessert thrown in for free. As the scent of grilling seafood wafts towards your table all there is to do is kick back, wiggle your toes in the sand and soak up the inky black skies as the phosphorescence cascades off a small boat heading out into the channel, bringing more tourists to the islands. As my platter piled high with King Prawns arrived, it struck me that the Gilis could just as easily be called the Goldilocks Islands. At the heart of all three there's textbook tropical paradise on offer, but while one may be too busy and one a little quiet, there is bound to be one that's just right for you. » Originally published in The Weekender Travel & Food; October 2008 Add this page to your favorite Social Bookmarking websites            |