Paradise Personified

Hello again!

We are here in Malaysia but my stories about Indonesia are not yet done! So enough chit chat - let's get straight to the point. We'll pick up where we left off - at the top of Rinjani.

Climbing Rinjani was an exhilarating, albeit trying, experience – the type of journey that left you physically and mentally exhausted and searching for some rest and relaxation. From the mountain’s staggering heights our sought after respite became glisteningly clear. Far in the distance, off to the east, shining in the ocean like three pearls of peace were the Gili Islands. Three small dots of land that all the guide books and many fellow travelers promised to be the very definition of relaxation.

After our brutal decent from Rinjani’s slopes we made a beeline for those distant dots. Getting to the Gili Islands was a menagerie of shifty local businessmen and complications. Once settled in the overcrowded, overpriced fishing boat that was to serve as our transport from shore to shore, I stared out at the blue-green water and thought to myself, “This place better live up to the propaganda.” I was not to be disappointed.

We were headed for the island of Gili Air. Of the three islands, Gili Air was marketed as the “medium” in every sense of the word. This island was smaller than the more famous Gili Trawangan but larger than the oft forgotten Gili Meno. It did not boast of the lively party crowd that drew swarms of backpackers to Trawangan’s shores but offered more atmosphere and accommodations than tiny Gili Meno.

Our packed boat sailed right up onto the sandy shores of the ‘town center’ on Gili Air where we hauled our packs over our heads to the shores to prevent them from getting wet. The clear waters aside, the area was sparse and what buildings there were had a distinct air of dilapidation about them. A crowd of the miniature horse drawn carts waited to transport the new arrivals but otherwise the area seemed deserted.

As with most of our destinations, we arrived sans reservations with only a Lonely Planet list of accommodations to guide us. However, this time it was an aging, eccentric Dutch woman who proved to have the best recommendation. She had chatted with Lisa on the short boat ride, extolling the virtues of a little known guest house called Lucky’s which she assured us had nice bungalows with a good view of the sunset side of the island, decent rates and good food to boot.

After we disembarked from our boat she led us through the back paths of the village to deliver a mattress she had procured for a new father and his family. She was a little off-kilter but her intentions spoke of a kind disposition despite her zany outward appearance.

We followed the well-trodden foot paths to Lucky’s and it was on these paths that we got our first taste of Gili Air. Like all ‘postcard paradises’ this island sported a healthy population of palm trees but it was startling to find fly covered cattle grazing beneath the swaying palms. These cleared areas nestled between homes made of every available material from ancient wooden planks to corrugated tin and crumbling cement blocks. I wouldn’t say the place was in despondent poverty but more of a state of easy and tolerated decline. Women in elegant traditional sarongs walked to and fro sometimes carrying large bundles balanced precariously on their heads. Children scampered about half (or sometimes completely) naked, and a group of adolescence finished up a soccer game in a bare field beneath the deepening sapphire sky.

Our guide spoke with a very somber youth who then accompanied us to Lucky’s and showed us the bungalows. Our soon to be home-away-from-home was nothing grand to look at – a simple scattering of barebones bungalows sitting a stones throw from the ocean. A low lying building that served as an office, kitchen, and home for the owner’s family sat at the edge of it all. A line of four cabanas – simple, open air structures made of a wooden frame, palm frond roof and bamboo mat floor that was raised a few meters above the ground – served as dining tables that faced the dying light of day with a terrific view of Lombok and the neighboring Gili Meno.

We agreed to the price of $10,000 rupiah per night which is about $10 US or $3 each for a small, simplistic bungalow with a fan and basic bathroom. The veranda had a nice view of the ocean out front. (We would forgo the view for an A/C unit after two nights of stifling heat – for an additional $3 US).

This is where we would spend the next week – lazing about the compound, in the shade of the cabanas or on our porch, with the occasional walk about the island in search of good swimming beaches and snacks. Lucky’s was a natural fit for us. It was a family run business with the same kids running about, flying kites and making noise, and the same women sweeping the floors and surrounding areas. This was a place were life flowed smoothly but slowly so that time warped into a trickle of days and nights punctuated only by the meals, sunsets and occasional venturing out to see the redundant sites of the island.

The owner/operator of Lucky’s was Luke – a small local man with an easy manner but sharp, observant eyes and a slightly mischievous smile that would appear suddenly. He took obvious pride in his business and would often join us at the cabanas as we ate if only to chat about the day and how we were enjoying our stay. My memory of Gili Air will forever carry with it Luke’s smile and his family’s presence.

This island, with it’s lack of modern distractions and conveniences such as motorized vehicles and neon lights, will stand out in my mind as the perfect example of paradise – a place rich in culture, simplicity and ease without the price tag that is so often attached to such places elsewhere in the world.

If I could paint you a picture of Gili Air, it would look something like this:

Everything is covered in the light one baths in when this close to the equator – a sunlight unfiltered and unpolluted, bright, airy and dampened with a humidity that begs you to find shade and a cold drink. The worst of the heat has burned off as the sun seeks the horizon, a perfect fiery ball hovering above the ocean. The ocean, too, seems to be retreating as low tide seeps in. Its glassy reflection sits directly in front of the little cabana where the three girls sit seemingly blending in with the surroundings. They move without any sense of urgency, drinking, snacking and talking in voices that barely carry beyond the palm frond roof of their enclosure.

They are watching with earnest the unfolding drama at the waters edge. One of the ever-present children that came complementary with their current accommodation is in the process of flying his homemade kite. A friend stands a short distance away letting out string that is wrapped around an old coffee can as the little man tries to catch the wind. He squeals with excitement when the wind finally grabs the kit and sails it skyward where is sails up and up. But this is where the land meets the sea and so the wind here is sporadic and moody. It tosses the kite about in a violent dance as if it is possessed by a spirit all its own. Suddenly it plunges down – directly as the smiling figure of the little man below. It chases him for a few feet, darting about his head as he squeals and runs, swatting. A smile as large as his small face can contain shines in the afternoon sun and laughter like breaking waves leaps forth as he scampers away.

The three girls can’t help but laugh too. This pure and simple enjoyment seems to be so definitive of their time here – as if the modern world and all its complications had somehow overlooked this island during it’s all-encompassing march through mankind.

The sun dies slowly and they enjoy the colors and shades of this masterpiece. Off in the distance red lightening pierces the sky – but it is far away and brings only mystery and beauty and a cooling breeze to their paradise. The stars come out and Luke brings dinner. As they say – just another day in paradise…

There are more spectacularly beautiful places in this world, most of them now overseen by high rise resorts and blinking traffic lights. There are also areas more symbolic and historic but if you are looking for paradise personified, look no further than Gili Air – where paradise echoes in the laughter of local children and is displayed in the colorful fabric worn by the women. Where the easy manner of Luke’s hospitality and the simple beauty of the palm trees sway is enough to calm a rocky soul and sooth a tired mind.

I hope this blog finds you all healthy and happy. For all of you back in Texas - and close enough to call my mother - please call her and tell her to TAKE IT EASY. She's recovering from back surgery but needs encouragement to do as the doctor says! Just kidding mom - I know you are following him by the book.

I hope to post again soon. Until then - take care and God bless.

Love from the road...

Charlsea, Lisa, and Desirae