There are three islands called the Gilis that are a thirty-minute slow boat ride off the coast of Lombok. They are tiny, featureless blobs of jungle with a ring of beach and a sand path around them. You can walk around any one of them in a couple of hours, and they are close enough to one another to be an easy swim if it weren’t for a steady current that runs between them. Boats make regular runs from one to another, but there is no motorized traffic on any of the islands. All transit is done by foot, bicycle, or cidomo or clip-clop, two wheeled pony-drawn carts. In other words, the loudest noise you hear besides the engine of a passing boat or the roar of a diesel generator when the island power goes out, a frequent occurrence, is the crowing of the ubiquitous and accursed roosters. Idyllic.
Enriching this peaceful atmosphere is the pace of the islands, which is really no pace at all, a veritable standstill of relaxation that leaves one stuporously groping for the day of the week, the date, even the month. Accommodations are situated off of the beach path on each island, and range from huts to luxurious bungalows with all sorts of options in between. I stayed in everything from a shack with a mosquito net covered bed and a stand fan to a two story thatched bungalow with air-conditioned bed and balcony area upstairs and open air living area with hammock and day bed downstairs. Most of the places also have outdoor bathrooms, a constant joy in this climate, as you can walk outside at night and shower, in privacy, under the stars, surrounded by whatever landscaping and artwork is arranged in the bathroom. Pretty cool.
Accommodations are on the landward side of the island-encircling path, which leaves room for restaurant and lounge areas on the beach side. The hotels, if you can call them that, all have restaurants, and there are many independent restaurants and bars as well, each one with its own space on the beach for serving meals. You know those thatch roofed, open walled wooden stands with the raised flooring, the low table, and the cushions that you see on the cover of all those island living type magazines? That’s where you lounge here. You find a restaurant that looks good, you walk out onto the beach, ditch your shoes, climb onto the raised dais, burrow into some cushions like a pet settling down, start ordering mounds of food, cheap beer, fresh fruit shakes, and beach drink cocktails, then sit around and consume it while staring out into the water. Make a day of it: bring a book and some snorkel gear, periodically flop onto the sand for some sun or a swim, then loll back when you are finished for a read or a nap or another drink. The path is littered with beach huts full of folks doing just this. All day.
About the flopping in the water part, the tourist areas are concentrated on the leeward sides of the islands, perfect spots for snorkeling. El Nino and the dynamite fishing that, though curtailed in the last few years has still left its obvious mark, have decimated a lot of the coral in the area, but the snorkeling off the beach is still grand, largely for its easy accessibility to colorful, clear, clean, warm, shallow water that gives way between each island to an interesting drop-off; all boat traffic that moves through here does so at a slow pace, keeping an eye out for said snorkelers. Those inclined can book dives from the many SCUBA concessions on the islands. Some of the shops have pools and offer classes, and all have big wooden motorized outriggers that do daily dives to the intact reefs around the islands. Easy diving with crews that bust their butts to make the dives painless for the guests.
Each of the three islands has its own flavor. One is the party island, punching way above its weight in the party scene, with different bars holding parties on different nights of the week. Bottle flipping flair bartenders whip bottles of arak, the local palm distilled spirit around. Live bands play reggae and blues, and Djs spin dance favorites to take up the slack. Some devious bastard in the corner keeps throwing psilocybin into the fruit shakes. International crowds of rowdies howl at the moon. You get the picture and can probably understand why this is the island of choice among the tourist crowd. But there are two other islands, one very laid back and the other downright comatose in pace. And that’s on the leeward side where all the action is. Walk around to the windward side where the waves and the surf make the beaches somewhat less accessible and you will find empty stretches of beach and jungle interspersed with expensive looking private properties and accommodations that take advantage of the low traffic to offer those interested a place that affords perfect isolation and privacy. All with the ever-present thatch huts and hammocks for lounging and napping. No wonder they call this place Lazyland.
