Relaxing in Gili Meno

Other than the exciting soccer match back on Lombok, my next few days were rather uneventful, exactly the type of stay I was looking for on Gili Meno. The arid, circular island is only about a half mile across and a mile or two long, surrounded by the crystalline waters of the Indian Ocean and filled with a few palm trees and other medium sized trees in the middle of the island. Scouting out the island, I spent one afternoon walking around the entire thing, taking only about 2 hours, with a few stops, finding the entire West coast of the island almost deserted other than two tiny hotels and a cafe, with a long, bright white coastline of fragments of shell and coral, looking pretty from far away but not making a very comfortable beach or place to stroll barefoot, so I was glad that I had not decided to go with the random guy on the first night, trying to sell me on one of these hotels, despite the lure of the seclusion. Eventually, the shells softened and merged into bits of sandy beach, just wide enough for a few people to hide away on the North shore, broken up by bits of vegetation, trees and shrubs, jutting up all the way to the sea. Back along the East coast, I passed my hotel and confirmed that the best beach was the closest one to the development on the Southeast corner of the island, offering soft white sand and views back towards the other island and mainland. Even with the other tourists in high season, Meno remained pleasantly quiet, with the most activity coming from day-trippers on stops over from the other two islands for lunch and/or snorkelling. Though the islands are not spread far apart and look almost tantalizingly close for one to swim from island to island, the only realistic way to visit between them are the once daily return ferries or going on a day tour. The currents are so strong that it's not unheard of for tourists, either fueled by bravado, delusions of self-grandeur or alcohol, to try to swim between them and get caught up in the tides and washed out to sea. In fact, just a week or so ago, four French tourists tried to swim the gap between one of the islands, and I believe they made it safely, though the trip back didn't go as well. A local fisherman stopped them in the water and offered to take them back to the islands, saying that one of the men didn't look very good, though they refused, and that ill-fated decision cost the man his life, as he wasn't strong enough to make it back to the island, getting caught up in the currents. His body was just found the day before I arrived. So, needless to say, I mostly stuck to the shore.

Content with my location and picturesque beach on the tiny island, I lazed away my days, making friends with a few of the locals that also doubled as workers in the bungalows and attached cafe. Along with a pair of young Germans, breakfast, lunch and dinner were spent at the cafe, hanging around two or three of the tables, at a few of the covered thatched lounges with pillows and tiny tables directly overlooking the ocean or at the tables just behind in the shade of the large trees. The usual waiter, Morris, is actually an Indonesian from Jakarta, sort of frail looking with an easy smile and almost perpetually red eyes, as there is usually a beer or cigarettes close by. He owns land on the island and is trying to sell it before heading back to Jakarta where he is in a huge administrative struggle with immigration, as he actually married a woman from the UK a while ago and lived in London, though he is now stuck in the country while trying to sell his land and get back to his wife and family. Abbi, my friend from the soccer match, apparently has a reputation as the local gigolo, as the young, outgoing guy with long, curly hair is apparently irresistible to his three girlfriends in Germany, France and Spain. He, along with Moli, a mid-30s, relaxed guy with long hair and aviator glasses, also spend much of the day at the cafe, playing relaxing American and English songs on their guitars with slightly misunderstood lyrics, though close enough to create a nice ambiance. And finally, there's Zen, whose name is perfect for him, as he is perpetually smiling and telling me about his latest epiphanies gleaned from the self-help books and pseudo-philosophy that he reads in between carving wooden jewelry during the days. The best part is that though we were only there a short time, we weren't treated as tourist, but we were actually accepted into this circle of friends, if only for a week or so.

So, along with my new friends, the days passed by delightfully slowly, lounging around and watching the small waves crash in the pristine water just below us. I also managed to try almost every local meal on the menu, finding a few excellent options from the Sasak food, an Indonesian culture that dominates Lombok. Spicy water spinach with rice, coconut curries with mixed vegetables and an incredible potato wrap with chili sauce (a modified version of an Indian masala dosa) were some of my favorites, but it was all good, and none of it was more than $2 or so. Though, we noticed that they actually brought out separate menus for the tourists on day-trips from the other islands.

After a few days, I got to recognize most of the people on the island, so you know when a new arrival comes and goes, or when it's just a daytripper over for a look at the island. Amazingly, the tourist masses are dominated by the French, so there must have been some popular show or news article about the islands, as the number of people here is really disproportionate to what you'd expect anywhere else in the world of travel. Speaking of Europeans, a few of the more daring and/or clueless ones decided to do a little topless sunbathing along the beach, which is fine where they come from, but it actually is a pretty offensive display in a conservative Muslim culture. In a place where the local women often won't even show their necks or knees, I found it hard to believe that people seem to have no qualms about laying around and roaming the beach topless, especially after some notes about not doing this in the popular travel guide that almost everyone in this area has. Then again, with topless women, people probably don't complain too loudly, so I guess the oblivious women never really realize their faux pas. Oh well. Finally, my other slightly noteworthy outing took me to the center of the island for a small bird park which mostly consisted of a few colorful Australian parrots and local birds, along with one crocodile, a small deer and the star attraction, a Komodo dragon. Since I am not going to have time to visit Komodo island (it's a long, arduous 3 day boat trek each way, and it's also fully booked during high season), I thought this might be a good opportunity to see another one up close (though they have them in Singapore, Atlanta and many other zoos), but I found a small, young dragon asleep in the water, not really as impressive as the images conjured by the dragon's evocative name.

(One of the lounges on the beach of Gili Meno, nestled amongst some of the vegetation. As you can see, the views from this seaside chairs and cafes were pretty amazing, so it wasn't hard to spend a few days just relaxing in a place like this.)

(My little bungalow is the one on the right. It had a fairly comfortable queen sized bed, a mosquito net and an attached bathroom and shower which consisted of a tiny opening in a hose above head level with salt water, which is fine, as there is a scarcity of fresh water on the island. Pretty good deal for $15 a night including breakfast.)

(Again, the Southern beach of Gili Meno. I had a wonderful time just relaxing here and making friends with the locals, as well as trying a lot of the local food, highlighted by some spicy water spinach, coconut curries with meat and/or veggies and an incredible interpretation of an Indian potato turnover.)

(Just before the sun was setting, I came across three naked little boys, playing in the surf and attempting to fish, though I don't think they caught anything. I love this picture, and if you look closely, you can see that it aptly says S.S. Bottom on the boat, a pretty fitting title, though just think how great it could be if I would have captured one more letter from the glass bottom boat. Think. It's not that complicated.)

(Another view of the soft white beach with a hint of Gili Air on the horizon.)