The Gilies 

Transport deals here are amazing, we’re picked up at the doors of the villa and driven to the ferry landing stage an hour away, in a week we’ll be dropped back at the door after the return boat trip (each way around 2 hours) all for less than 20 quid.

It’s a rough day at sea and we’re in a large speed boat. It’s never a good sign when the crew start handing out plastic sickie bags 3 minutes into a trip. Pretty soon Kim and I giggling over a request for a “nice, fatty, streaky bacon sandwich” as we are surrounded by puking travellers as the seas get rougher and the boat continually smacks against oncoming swells.

First stop is Gili Trawanagen (The party island) then Gili Meno (the honeymoon island) then Gili Air (the best of both). It’s a tiny, sandy speck in the ocean just off of Lombok, there are no roads, a track around the island will take just over an hour to follow, or you can go in a local horse cart. The carts line the sand track when we arrive and we stand in the blistering heat and download a map. It turns out the little dick head sent from the hotel to meet us to show us the way has decided to keep the A4 sheet with our name on in his pocket and instead approach random individuals and ask if they are “Mr Keem”! We set off on what turns out to be a 20 minute trek to our beach “lumbung”. When we arrive we get to meet our “welcomer” who we beat and kick repeatedly.......the thick little twat.

A Lumbung is a pretty basic hut, woven from reed, founded on a wooden platform, lifted off the ground by a timber frame. Inside we have an empty fridge but next to it is a mini bar list of drinks and snacks! a bathroom open to the elements and a stained holy mosquito net enclosed bed. No wasted bullshit such as wardrobes etc, which when asked, apprantly 'all the wardrobes fell over and broke in the earthquake the year before', nothing else, just the advertised wardrobes! still comfy and cozy enough and we have a daily beer ration. We can walk from where we are to the sunset side of the island. A number of beach front barbeque joints are setting up, making log fires on the beach and we walk as far around as we can while the sun sinks. It’s a staggering sunset as it sinks behind meno and the distant volcano. A plate of mixed salmon and tuna sashimi and a glass of wine, some grilled tuna and prawns and another glass of wine, a walk back to our resort and a sit between the pool and the dark ocean while beach fires and strings of lights stretch away in both directions and enjoy an icy cold Bintang beer......

A schlep around the island reveals the remaining damage from last years earthquake. Bits of concrete breakwater here and there slump at odd angles, a couple of deserted broken buildings, the wreckage of the “Ombok Paradise Hotel” overlooking an ocean of powder blue which appears to be lit from beneath, paradise indeed, or it must have been.

We drop anchor at Scallywags beach club and enjoy a day swimming in beautifully warm clear water. It’s not Koh Lipe sand or sealife but it is a wonderful place, peaceful, laid back, an amazing antidote to the modern world. Our days here pass in a gentle routine of pool, ocean, grilled squid, cold beers, and lying in the sun.

Two girls in their early 20s are trying to get a tan on their fannys. They lay in the sun on their backs directly in front of us, legs akimbo with nought but what appears to be a bit of dental floss covering obviously shaved mufflers. (Are they still mufflers if they’re shaved?) I struggle to pay attention to what Kim is saying all the time they are in my peripheral vision while I'm trying to concentrate on the sea. I have, after all spent most of my life trying to get at such things, it’s a sign of age I suppose in that all I want to do now is to ask if I can use one of them to open my bottle of Bintang. I can’t help but ruminate on the self absorption of youth that enables these two girls to lay like this, pussies (again, are they still pussies if they’re shaved?) facing up the beach, so as to catch the early afternoon sun, to where we, families and couples are trying to enjoy some raw tuna.......... I mean, can’t they have done their sixpences in the morning? Facing the sea? Why wait until I’m sucking 1000 island sauce of a prawn and point them up the beach so that the mummy next to us has to say “No Henry you cannot look up there with your snorkel on”. They both slip into a sun deepened drowse, I wonder how come I lost the urge to take photos of them and send them to the guys in the band. Time, it’s a funny thing isn’t it?

We’ve only bought small day packs with us for the week but they still feel heavy as we traipse along the sand track toward the ferry terminal. We buy our fast boat tickets and sit, while the sweat dribbles down our backs in a tiny coffee bar. The waiters, mostly Muslim, are a little cranky, today is the 39th and last day of Ramadan, 40 days of fasting and the tension is palpable. We watch the barely organised chaos as boats discharge, load, passengers board horse carts, shoulder huge packs, set out to walk around or across the island, looking like so many snails... “Yah but we’re away for 3 whole months so we need really a lot you know, we’re not just on holiday, we’re travelling, how long are you on holiday for?” “Two years” “Um Yah....cool”