Island Excursions and Nighttime Submersions

MY LAST VISIT TO THE GILIS: DIVING, EATING AND RELAXING BEFORE LEAVING SOUTHEAST ASIA FOR GOOD.

I love Indonesia. Okay, in fairness, that’s not 100% accurate: I really really like Indonesia – I love Gili Trawangan. I really shouldn’t, there are a lot of things about it that I don’t like or support – and feeling out of the travel mindset meant that many of these were more apparent to me this time – but, so help me, I still love Gili T.

When my plane landed in Indonesia this final time, it landed in Bali. My plan was to try to live and work in Australia after this little jaunt and so, in order to do a convincing impression of a functioning human being, I decided to do some essentials shopping here in Asia whilst it was still cheap. As elegant as I find my elephant shorts and flipflops, I can’t imagine getting many jobs in that get-up. For that reason, I actually stayed in the dreaded Kuta for my first 2 nights, just to raid it’s nearby malls.

One thing I will give it: Kuta actually has some really good hostel options. Since this was one of the last times I’d be able to stay in private room, however, and since they were cheap (10 GBP for a decent double), I booked into Kemuning Kuta Hotel for a few well needed nights of hermitting away. Okay, in fairness, I know I’ve been hermitting in these blog posts forever but I still haven’t gotten over the need to just chill and watch Netflix and not socialise yet. Soon! (maybe).

Anyway, my stay in Kuta turned out to be fairly pointless as the shopping centres just had international stores with the same international prices, and I actually didn’t end up purchasing very much. I know Australia, expensive as it notoriously is, also happens to have the same international stores (plus some) at the same prices so I’ll just wait until then I guess. I did manage to buy a new notebook though. I like to carry one to jot down my thoughts and experiences until I have a chance to blog them and the one I got in Georgetown, Malaysia is, quite literally, falling apart by this point.

Overall, I still had a nice day exploring. As much as I say I don’t like Bali, I actually know I haven’t really seen enough of it to judge and would be very willing to try again one day. I want to see Canggu for surfing and Amet for diving and I’d like to do the Mount Batur Sunrise hike, and even, as much as it annoyed me the first time, go and see the sights around Ubud properly. I also want to explore Lombok properly – I’ve heard such good things but I always just pass through on my way to and from the Gilis. Now would make sense to do this, but I’m just so tired of moving around. I want to travel but right now it sort of feels like a chore, so I’ll save it until I can properly enjoy it. Even though I’m here, in the right country on the opposite side of the world already. Still, I know myself and what I need right now, and that is a few days of netflix and Nasi Goreng and a private room in Kuta, and then the earliest possible boat to my beloved Gili Trawangan.

I left at 6:30am and paid IDR250 for my boat journey. I think you could get it for 200 if you really tried. For the first time ever, the boat from Bali to the Gilis was actually completely smooth and didn’t leave me feeling incredibly nauseous, which was miraculous in itself.

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Writing about this is actually quite hard. As you’ve likely realised, I’m about 4 months behind in this blog by this point, and my life looks very different now to how it did then. And I really, really miss this life. I miss Asia and I frickin’ miss Gili T. Even with travel exhaustion, I was still planning my next trip for when I had the energy again. It’s interesting that my craving is to go back to someone I’ve been, like Asia, more than it is to explore Latin America right now. I always craved travel as deep down it felt like I was hunting for something… Did I find that something on the Gilis? All I know is that, writing this, I wish I was there now.

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Anyway, I arrived on the island, and walked directly to my go-to hostel, Broken Compass. I toyed with the idea of a cheap homestay but I love the pool, I love the option of privacy should you want it, the option to be social should you want it… Yeah, I was never going to go anywhere else. After a lovely warm welcome from all the staff, I went straight to my favourite hipster cafe, The Banyan tree, and ordered my favourite hipster lunch: the purple wrap. Funnily enough, it wasn’t as a good as I remembered, but it was still wonderful to be home.

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I actually didn’t go out partying at all this time on Gili T. I did sort of feel the pull, but not enough to bother. I didn’t make a group in the same way that I normally do, and I found that I was far more drawn towards the quieter people this time than I was towards the big loud group. They were a particularly annoying big loud group of big loud guys and their swooning groupies this time. Some of the guys sat with me at breakfast one of the days and never bothered again after that – thankfully. Their chat about last nights ‘hook-ups’ was both incredibly sexist and disrespectful and clearly embellished, that I think I failed at being the correct level of impressed for them to want to talk to me again. Excellent. Anyway, I made soft friends with a much nicer group and occasionally went on day trips or food trips with them, but in general did my own thing.

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I ate a lottt of hipster food, usually in takeaway format alone in my bunk (don’t judge me, this was just exactly what I needed during this part of my trip – to feel cosy and comforted and not awkward for not feeling social), or in cafes whilst blogging. I also revisited my old habit of watching the sunset once or twice, Bintang in hand, with various members of my new crew. The most exciting thing I did this time around was I actually went to the other Gili Islands. There are actually three, and initially I assumed I would avoid Trawangan and spend my time on the other two as they sounded more my speed. It’s funny how things work out. Anyway, I’ve sort of always felt like I should go and stay on the others just to say I’ve done it, but I’ve never wanted to give them the time that I could have spent on Gili T, so I’ve just never gone.

I discovered this time though that you can go on a daytrip. You just grab the public ferry in the morning and pop across to Meno, take the ferry at noon to Air and then get the speedboat back in the evening. It was cheap and allowed me some time to explore both islands.

Meno was just as quiet and fancy as they say – definitely a honeymoon island, although I don’t know if I’d want to spend my honeymoon there in all honesty. It was pretty but all of the activities were exactly what you’d do from either of the other islands – i.e, get on a boat and do watery things. It was very underdeveloped, which was pretty but apart from lazing on the beach, it wouldn’t keep me entertained for long on my own, and would likely cost me more than it was worth. I went on a walk and then sat and had an overpriced coffee whilst I waited for the ferry to Air.

Air was a little more exciting. I think I could have loved it, had I not met Trawangan first. It was developed but still quaint with way less nightlife but lots of quirky stuff of it’s own. After a little wander around I stopped for lunch at Mowie’s and, apart from being incredibly windy when you sit indoors, I can definitely recommend. Get the Katsu chicken burger. It’s insane… God, I want to be back in Asia.

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Hilariously, a day or two later I ended up back in Mowie’s and back on Gili Air, as I went on the Gili’s snorkelling trip (for the second time) with my crew. I actually loved it. I loved it the first time but that was my first ever attempt at free-diving and so I could barely get down to the statues. Now I was able to easily lie in the middle of them for ages. Such a shame no one had a camera this time but it was still really great to feel so at one with the water. I miss being in the sea (when it’s warm and clear) so much.

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The other thing I did this time around that’s worth mentioning is diving. I bloody love diving. And since I was back with my original dive school, I wanted to do a few general dives, but specifically, a night dive with them. It ended up being me and this other guest, V, who I knew through breakfast and through hanging out at the dive shop, as well as Sammy, our guide, as my usual guide Nana was running courses this week. Sammy was great so this wasn’t at all an issue, and the dive was honestly the funniest dive I’ve ever done in my life. We did a shore dive as there weren’t enough of us to make it worth getting the full boat crew to take us out. This meant that we splashed into the water, weighed down by our equipment and wearing giant fins in twilight. I’m pretty sure I basically fell over my fins and landed face first in the water, at which point Sammy decided to grab hold of mine and V’s BCs and drag us into the water whilst we lay on our backs. I can’t quite remember why we thought this made us resemble babies, but we were giggling hysterically about this the entire way in, and when I say hysterically, I do mean hysterically. Sammy laughed along but I think she may have wanted to drown us.

That wasn’t even the funniest part. We went to the house reef which I’d never been to before, and where there were lots of things on the seabed placed in order to encourage coral growth. I was looking at the seabed, probably for some exciting night time macro life, when V swam above me. Now remember that it is pitch black except for our torchlight, and so I didn’t realise he was there and tried to move, got tangled up in him so we both bumped into so much stuff we really shouldn’t have bumped into, and in the end I just exhaled all my air and lay on the seabed until it was over, trying not to laugh hysterically and screw up my buoyancy. It was utterly excellent. It was the most ridiculous dive I’ve ever done in my life but really possibly my most enjoyable.

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I’d only booked to stay a week this time on the island. I normally only book a few days and then extend and extend and extend, to the point where the hostel manager was so surprised that I really was leaving on my initial check-out date that I kind of wondered why I was leaving then too. But, I’ve known for a while that I’m too exhausted to go an explore new places, and, although it is FULLY my intention to keep going with my trip, I’d decided to try and stand still and earn some money in Australia for a while. I wanted to get there before Halloween, which is my favourite time of year, and so now, (the week before Halloween – yes, this blog is super super late) seemed like a sensible time to go.

Thanks Asia. It’s been so f*cking amazing I can’t even cope.

Lava in Java

4 days in Java, including two dawn volcano hikes of Ijen and Bromo and a few days in Yogyakarta visiting the water palace, Borobodur temple and the Indonesian ballet.

The journey off of Nusa Lembongan and to Java was pretty intense and long-winded, and we were doing it in a panicked rush because the guys wanted to arrive in time to do a 1am volcano hike. Yes, go back and read that again. 1AM VOLCANO HIKE. To be honest, it is that kind of mental nonsense that made me agree to travel with them in the first place. After lounging around in Perth and Gili T for so long I haven’t done any ‘real’ backpacking in a while – I needed this.

First we got a tuk-tuk to the water, then a small boat to a kind of floating ferry port thing, where we got a slightly larger boat. We spent an hour or so on this boat watching a bad but surprisingly sad movie about a young volleyball star who dies in a bike accident, leaving her distraught friends to try and win the season without her. I wouldn’t mention it except for the fact that we may have all secretly had a little sniffle over the small proportion of movie we saw. After the ferry we got a public bus across Bali for a ridiculously inexpensive price that I can’t even remember just now. I love a public bus but we had no time or resources for real dinner, so had to buy a nice little Indonesian lady out of all of the crisps and beng bengs on her stall at the bus station. It turns out you can smoke at the back on public buses, and they get pretty full, so we crammed into the front and had an uncomfortable few hours trying to nap before the bus emptied out and we got entire rows to ourselves. After the bus we had to get a giant public ferry from the west of Bali to the east of Java. Here, we very excitedly had tea and instant noodle pots as the most nutritious things we’d eaten all night. I’m really starting to understand that tea genuinely does make everything better.

In a stroke of genius, the boys had asked that we be picked up for our tour at the ferry port so we didn’t have to travel any further after that. I barely remember the time between arriving and the hike – I know we went to the tour office and changed into much warmer clothes, and I remember being driven up to the base of the volcano where we had more tea , complained about the cold and waited to be handed torches and gas masks. Hilariously it was one torch between two, which may not seem so bad just now, but wait for it.

When we started the actual hike, it was basically getting caught behind the masses and trudging up a winding path to the top. Except that both of my travel buds are well over 6ft tall and are, I suspect, much fitter than me (and I’m not unfit, I’ve been realising lately) and used this as an excuse to practice their London subway skills (ie, people weaving). I can do this with the best of them, but geezus guys, up a damn mountain on no sleep running only on artificial chocolate? Yeah, okay, why not? Our friendship was too new for me to show any weaknesses so I charged up with them, gasping for air and dying a little inside doing a tiny little imaginary (no energy for the real thing) leap of joy when it seemed we had reached the congregation of people waiting to get into the crater.

Hilariously, this turned out to be a rest stop literally only a quarter of the way up. Kill me f*cking now. I seem to have blocked the rest of the climb from my memory, but I do remember the guys finding a great bathroom spot and insisting I could go use it and no one would see me. After my side-of-scuba-boat escapades I decided to hold it which was probably the wrong call, as when I found the actual bathroom it was so grim, with so long a wait, that I was ready just to go behind the wall there, and well would have if there hadn’t been torches shining there every 5 seconds (probably from fellow women scoping out the same situation).

Eventually we made the peak of the volcano, smell of sulphur slowly getting stronger and stronger, to be told (I’m sure the boys knew already but I was blinding following with no clue what was going on) that we were also going to be climbing down, into the crater (of an active volcano btw) to see the blue flames that it was famous for. Gas masks on, torches on (for those who have them) and let’s have a mad scramble down to the crater using the carefully cut and definitely safe steps. Ha, did I say steps? I’m sorry, my mistake, I meant literal crumbling cliff face. Honestly, how there aren’t like 5 deaths every sunrise I have no idea, especially with all of the guides (we lost ours miles ago) shouting everyone to hurry their blind scrambling because the blue flames would be less visible after sunrise. This was Mount Ijen btw, (I didn’t mention it sooner because I wanted you to experience the same utter lack-of-clue I had) which is famous for it’s blue flames caused by the sulphur. We got right up to it but I, extremely promptly, decided it was not worth it, even with the gas mask on, and retreated to a further distance. I actually don’t think my lungs have recovered yet – inhaling near the damn thing is desolating (yes, I do mean ‘desolating’) and I just had to learn to hold my breath the second the sulphur smell intensified because I felt my lungs burning. The boys got photos though, which I stole, since my poor little camera phone struggled to capture anything useful.

Scrambling back up was damn near impossible. Jack with his giant legs forged on ahead but Jerome stayed behind me the entire time, I suspect a) because I didn’t have a torch and needed his light and b) because in the short time he has known me he has worked out the odds of my falling into an active volcano crater and decided on the best preventative course of action. Eventually we made it back to the top, and decided that climbing slightly round to the other side of the peak to catch the sunrise was literally just not a possibility at this point so we collapsed where we were, ate our ‘reward cookies’ which were slightly better quality than our ‘bus cookies’ and I introduced the boys to the beauty of the selfie stick. Honestly, I know the majority of you have just rolled your eyes at this but every single person who has tried mine has been reluctantly won over. Here are some ridiculous shots from it for you.

After the climb back down (where we passed the bathroom spot and realised it was definitely not secluded) we got driven back to our tour office and fed some 7am Nasi Goreng. Honestly, before this point I wasn’t a fan of Indonesian fried rice but it was absolutely what we needed at that moment and I now have a new-found infatuation with this dish as being one of the best frog damn breakfasts I’ve ever had.

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The boys spent some time researching how to get to Mt Bromo next. This was basically the point where I had to decide whether or not I was following or going back to Bali because the further across Java we went, the harder it was going to be to get back for my flight. I was definitely too tired and delirious to make real decisions so I did what I always do in times like this: blindly follow and figure it out later. So the three of us trundled into a mini bus for our supposedly five hour journey to the second volcano on our list. It took 14 hours.

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I don’t remember the journey and can only assumed I napped the entire time. The boys were much stressier than me, because they were trying to organise things. Because it was their trip and I was crashing and barely understood thier plans, I didn’t input very much at all (and also didn’t complain when it went wrong, as the unspoken rule of giving up your planning rights) so was way less stressed than them. After a full day of travel, where we thought we’d get a beautifully early night, we arrived at midnight to a building site with one very sketchy room with two double beds. There were no bed bugs and no cockroaches (although all three of us whipped out our sleeping bag liners) so I could cope with a single night here and almost immediately passed out before our 3am wake up call for the next volcano hike.

This one, thank frog, was mostly done by jeep. There was a little hassle where our driver put up a fuss about actually taking us as far up the mountain as we’d paid for, but with enough stubbornness (and a short walk) we managed to get up to King Kong viewpoint. Honestly, the view was astounding. Here’s our faces too.

After sunrise we went and climbed up to see the crater of an active volcano on the same site. We arrived back for some breakfast and another all day bus journey to Yogyakarta for the next step of our Java tour. I’m really glad I did both, but I honestly think Bromo was better – a far easier climb and a much more stunning view. The blue flames of Ijen were incredible but I couldn’t get close to them for more than 5 seconds without feeling like I was seriously doing some internal organ damage. That being said, it makes sense to do both if you’re in the area, as they’re sort of on route. I’ve also since seen photographs of the sunrise from the peak that we couldn’t be bothered to walk around to on Ijen, and honestly, it was breathtaking. It almost makes me wish we’d just sucked it up and walked around, and then I remember how much I wanted to die and knew that wasn’t really an option. Still, if you’re fit enough that might well tip the scales.

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We arrived in Yogya very late at night, checked in and went straight to bed. On our first full day we rented scooters and went to the water palace and to the famous ballet in the evening. Highlights include almost giving myself concussion in the palace for not ducking low enough beneath an arch, and the time Jerome asked me to take some photos of the young dancers in the ballet – as it’d be ‘less creepy’ from me – and the kids posed dutifully for several snaps all the while giving me the finger. It’s a great photo. On day two we got up for another sunrise on Setembu overlooking the Borobodur temple complex, before heading to the temple itself to explore.

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All of this stuff was really interesting and fun, but none of them were the highlight of Yogya for me.

It was another city with not that many westerners and that meant that the locals were really happy and excited talk to us all. You could smile and wave at people staring on the street and small children would approach you for photos and to practice their English. This happens in a lot of places, but I can’t think of any recently where my mouth has hurt from smiling so much. We got invited to see art created for a competition one evening, and whilst the guys were considering purchasing a really beautiful painting, I wandered outside to wait in the fresh air, where two locals were sat. When my guys came out of the building they found me sat next to them drinking a cup of ginger coffee they’d made me for and talking about art. I think this kind of place brings out the best in me actually, it feels like there are less barriers between starting a conversation – and so we start them in a way you just never could back home without someone wondering exactly what it was you wanted from them. I like connecting with people – I sort of roll my eyes when I read travellers’ blogs who talk about how meeting people from different cultures is the highlight for them, but I do really get it. There’s something incredibly beautiful and empowering knowing just how easily connected we all really are.

That last evening we walked around a square on our way for dinner and saw a kind of fete going on where loads of games were being played, including tug-of-war, egg and spoon (but with marbles and lots of cheating) and this amazing game where people climbed on each others shoulders forming a human tower in order to reach prizes that were on the top of these huge structures. It was hilarious and amazing and I kind of wish we had it in the UK. It’s not relevant to anything except that I want to remember it.

After a final bintang and some nasi goreng, we each ended our penultimate day in Indonesia. They boys moved onto Jakarta very early the next morning to catch their flight to the Philippines, whereas I headed back to Bali to fly out of Denpasar.

Lembongan Lads and Manta Banter

4 nights (I think – I admit I’ve lost track) on Nusa Lembongan, sampling the hipster cafes, judging the dive shops and laughing hysterically with Jack and Jerome from Gili T when we reunited for scootering, sunsets, Penida tours and snorkelling.

My first few days on Lembongan sort of proved to me what I already suspected: that I really take a while to warm to new places after I’ve just left one I loved, and that people make all the difference. Don’t worry, I really loved my time on this island in the end, but those first few days were never going to stand a chance after Gili T.

I stayed at Medal Jaya hostel which it was definitely more of a homestay than a hostel. It turned out that most of the rooms there were private and there were actually two dorms only. The six-person dorm was booked for a group and so I was in the four-person dorm. Unfortunately, the only other people in my dorm were long-term dive instructors (who also practiced yoga) who were polite enough but not incredibly friendly. It was a good place to stay and the staff were incredibly helpful, but because it was mostly private rooms, it wasn’t brilliant socially.

I hadn’t done very much research on the island yet and so had no real idea how to spend my time. I knew I wanted to dive (part of my justification for not staying on Gili T to do a divemasters was because I wanted to have dived other locations first) and I was thinking I would attempt to finally rent a scooter and drive to Ceningan and Devil’s tears further south. For that reason, I think I spent the first evening and full following day basically having a wander around, blogging and researching the island in Hipster cafes (I’ve realised that these are my happy place) and talking to dive shops. The big draw for diving on these islands is that you can dive with manta rays on a couple of dive spots near-by. I didn’t know much about mantas but just knowing the island was famous for it was enough of a recommendation for me. The problem I was having, however, was finding a dive shop I liked. I didn’t realise it would be so hard in all honesty! I obviously loved my dive shop on Gili T (hey Compass Divers, hey). I’d stayed at the end of the island that I did specifically because my dive friends on Gili T had recommended a specific shop to me. I went to speak to them on my first full day on Lembongan and they quickly informed me that the swells would be too high to dive manta point any time soon but they’d be diving in the north of the island. I kind of wanted them to sell the north to me a bit as I still wanted to dive somewhere new, even if not with mantas, but I just didn’t get much response to my queries and I left there feeling a bit dissatisfied. I didn’t realise I needed so much of a bond to dive with a shop, but it’s an expensive hobby and I was used to really enjoying the company of all the divers at my previous shop, and even having underwater banter with them all (which is hard to do given that you can’t speak at all). I tried again with a different shop that I’d emailed when I was trying to work out where to do my open water, and I was ready to suck it up and just dive the north with them anyway, when the dive instructor at the desk actually managed to talk me out of it by being a patronising arse, for want of a better word (hey Two Fish Divers, hey). I was just a) trying to form a bit of a connection with the shop I was going to entrust my life to underwater and b) get excited about diving a non-manta site so I was asking what was at the sites. The guy actually scolded me about how the water was ever changing and nothing could be guaranteed: mate, I did a Philosophy Masters so I know all about never committing to anything 100% but don’t talk to me like I’m an idiot yeah? Sorry, rant over.

In the end, I literally walked into one straight off the street because I saw they were SSI rather than PADI and, on a whim, decided to talk to them as at least we had the same dive institute. They asked my name and my qualification level, which was a better start than any of the others and so I did book with them in the end. I know most people wouldn’t care but when there’s so much competition for customers, and my other experiences have been so good, I would like a slightly more personal experience. That’s likely just me being needy because no one at my accommodation spoke to me though.

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I went diving with them the next day after a very very early breakfast. Ironically, I met a couple at breakfast who were super friendly who were just finishing up their open water at the same shop. The day was fine, my guide was local and so there’s was a slight language barrier, but the boat in general was a pretty fun group. There were three dives, which is more than I’ve ever done in one day, and because I was the only advanced diver, I had my guide to myself. You also get provided lunch on the boat, so even though the day is more expensive than just doing one dive (like you could on the Gilis) it works out as decent value. The only awkward thing (for me at least) is because you’re on the boat all day, you don’t get bathroom breaks and they explicitly tell you not to pee in your wetsuit. You have to alert them if you need to go, pull down your wetsuit to your knees (your swimwear stays up) and jump over the side of the boat and go in the water. It is utterly mortifying. Or at least for me it was. Everyone else seemed fine with it, I know this because the one time I got up the nerve to do it, 5 people jumped over with me and we were all in a line together. Who can pee and make eye contact at the same time?? I bloody can’t. I now absolutely understand when people talk about stage fright. I had to wait for them all to finish and climb back into the boat and then try to imagine that I was anywhere else just to get my body to relax, even slightly. It was only semi-successful. Sorry about telling you all about this but it was frickin’ weird and I need to record it.

The dives themselves were good. The first was fine, nothing special after Gili T but the second had about 30 seconds of being utterly utterly amazing. We swam through this amazing reef that was alive and colourful and filled with thousands of fish. I’ve never seen such an incredible sight on land or underwater – I felt like I’d been pulled into Disney’s The Little Mermaid, it was that spectacular. The third dive was cool because we saw some barracudas and a little nurse shark, which was exciting for me. I think that the most exciting thing that happened other than this was that I vomitted into my mouth a little, and just purged, giggled to myself, and carried on. It was a shame we couldn’t go and see the mantas but at least I had done something on this island other than eat superfoods.

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That evening, I’d been messaging Jack from my Gili T crew, as he and Jerome (who I’d briefly soberly, and later drunkenly met that last night there too) were on Lembongan – in fact they were staying literally next door to my dive shop). They were at Devil’s tears and told me to rent a bike to come and join them. I wasn’t too keen to attempt my first ride in the dark but did speak to my hostel about it, who weren’t too keen on me doing it either, so I said I’d come meet them for dinner afterwards. I’d noticed that my hostel advertised a day trip to Nusa Penida, a nearby island with lots of beautiful spots, and originally I’d been planning on spending a few days there. I felt a bit bad about the fact that I hadn’t seen anything new and impressive in a while though and was a bit apprehensive about having to bike around Penida when it’s still something I haven’t done very much of, and so was leaning towards doing the day tour. When I met the guys that evening, it turned out Jerome was doing the same tour the next day, whilst Jack was having a beach day, so the former and I decided to do it together.

This is where my Lembongan experience became a lot of fun. People really do make all the difference and the next few days were actually great. I got picked up for the tour early the next day and, after getting a boat to Penida and some confusion over how many cars there were to drive us all and whether we’d need to split up, Jerome and I found ourselves with a young British couple, a chinese mother and son, and a driver who spoke no English, roaming around the picturesque island. Jerome and I had already agreed to instaboyf for each other, although, when we started hanging out with the british couple after the first stop on the tour, it became more of us taking ironic couple photos of each other. I still can’t work out if they’re hilarious or cringey but I’ll add some for you to judge.

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We saw Angel’s Billabong, Kelingking beach (although you don’t get time to climb down it on this tour) and Crystal bay. We got an hour and a half at Crystal bay which I think we’d all rather have spent at Kelingking, climbing down to the famous ‘T-Rex Beach’, but to amuse ourselves at the bay, we decided to swim all the way out to an island in the water. Hilariously we got there, before realising that a) we couldn’t get onto it as the tide was too low to reach the steps and b) it had a temple on it and in our swimwear, we were definitely not appropriately dressed. At this point I could feel the current a little more and had a slight panic about being swept out to sea. Jerome was fantastic at just being like ‘we’ll have a slow drift back’ and keeping everything relaxed before admitting later that he was secretly a bit panicked too. We did get back easily enough, thank frog, although not without Emily (british couple girl) realising she’d lost her necklace in the water somewhere and an awkward and unsuccessful search for it. That kind of sucked and we all felt bad but at least we had a great day otherwise.

That evening we got dropped off from the tour at Mushroom bay, where we told Jack to bike down, with some Bintang, and meet us for the sunset. In the meantime Jerome and I swam in the sea and then snuck into a fancy resort to wash the salt off in the poolside showers. We had a few beers on beach, got some food and had one of the most hilarious scooter rides of my life, which I was fairly tipsy for after my beers, but Jack who was sensible and the best driver, drove the three of us back to where we were staying. I was in the front, laughing hysterically and trying to keep my head out of the way so that Jack could see. There’s a video of us stopping on a hill to watch some fireworks, which I have no memory of. I want to be clear here that I’m absolutely not endorsing awkward scooter rides, and am lucky that my tipsiness didn’t hinder Jack’s driving in any way! After that we watched Mulan in the boys’ room, where Jack fell asleep about 10 minutes in, after insisting I wear his necklace. The boys each had one, Jack’s is a weird dagger and Jerome’s is a weird ship steering wheel thing, both on red chord. I took this to mean I was one of the lads and aptly named this crew the Lembongan Lads. I remembered the necklace the next day and tried to give it back, to which Jack said he secretly hated it and I should keep it. #friendshipnecklaces

The guys were leaving about mid-afternoon the next day, and I was planning on maybe one day more, where I assumed I would go to Devil’s Tears and Ceningan. We decided to go on a snorkelling trip in the morning as the swells were now low enough that boats were going to Manta bay again. We started at Manta bay, but all the boats there were saying they hadn’t found any mantas: we stayed for 10 minutes before the guide basically said we could add Manta Point onto our trip for another 50 IDR as long as everyone agreed to it. This is one of those things that sounds like a scam but was so worth it. We did all agree and headed there next. There we were, frolicking about with our faces in the water when I saw a huge shape gliding in the distance. I shouted everyone and put my face back in to watch as it neared us. It was absolutely huge and utterly beautiful. I’m no good about being too sincere in this blog because it makes me feel oddly vulnerable to describe something as magnificent – but damn this manta was. They look like they’re flying in slow motion – it’s completely mesmerising. We saw about 4 after that, of which I was the one to shout every single time. I think I must have just had radar. After that they arrived non-stop and my super power was no longer needed. They were everywhere and so playful and so so worth the extra 50 rupiah. I had to learn pretty fast how to freedive but I believe Jerome actually got a pretty cool photo of me next to some (which I’ll upload when he sends). It was amazing – we barely paid attention to the other two snorkel sites after this but somewhere on that trip, between snorkelling and chatting to the rest of the group, the guys half jokingly suggested that I leave with them that afternoon and come to Java.

So I did.

Bali still didn’t excite me and I barely knew what their plan was, but I’ve been cosy for so long that the thought of going on an adventure with my Lembongan Lads just felt like the right thing to do at that moment.

After we got off the boat I got dropped at my hostel, packed my bags, checked out (the hostel were nice enough not to charge me for that day) and, after walking a sweltering kilometre with my bag on, met the boys for lunch before being picked up for the ferry which they’d booked me onto a few minutes before.

Goodbye to the Gilis

The end of my last stint on Gili T, finishing my advanced open water, forming a new crew and making tons of excuses not to leave.

The rest of my Advanced OW went pretty well to be honest, unless you count the time that I accidentally grabbed a sting ray – by the sting no less. I know, I know! I was slightly narked on the bottom of the ocean and thought it was a pen and that it was my solemn duty to remove it. I don’t know who was more surprised, me or the stingray – Nana tells me we both flapped away in a panic – but the less said about this the better.

I also had to do a night dive, which involved descending just as the sun set and continuing the dive in the dark. I thought it would be far more claustrophobic and scary than it was, but it was really cool. Lots of different marine life comes out at night and the torches you have are light enough that it’s actually not just you and a vast expanse of black shadowy water. It would be if it went out and you lost your buddy but in that case you’d ascend pretty much straight away anyhow. During the safety stop we had a moment where we shielded the light from our torches to see if there was any bioluminescent plankton in the water. There wasn’t a huge amount, but we found enough of it for it to look like we were swimming in glitter, just for a moment.

I love diving on this island. So much so actually that the dive shop have been trying, really very hard, to convince me to do my dive masters with them. It’s kind of like an internship with a dive shop where you spend a few months working for them and getting unlimited dives and a divemasters qualification. Honestly, I was tempted. I might still go back and do it one day. The thought of living on this island for three months really appeals to me actually, and that, right there, is one of the reasons I can’t commit to it. It turns out that stability is incredibly addictive. When I finally relaxed into travelling, around the time I hit Hoi An, I really thought I’d discovered that my true soul was that of a nomad and I just needed to be released from every day life. Now I’m not so sure: I kind of want that to be true but it’s scary how easy it is to be tempted back into creating familiarity.

*

After I finished my course I knew I couldn’t justify staying much longer. I’d already decided that I was going to go to Nusa Lembongan and Penida, some famously beautiful islands off of Bali, but I hadn’t gotten much further in my planning after that. I had about 12 days left in Indonesia at this point before flying out of Bali and so it made sense to go and spend a week there, but honestly, I just couldn’t get excited about it. I know I said last time I was here that I wanted another chance to do Bali properly one day, but – honestly, next week is too soon for me. Maybe in a few years I’ll be more willing but I just can’t be bothered trying to force it just now. I knew Nana’s last open water students would be in Canggu and Seminyak so going there to see them was at least in my mind as a potential option for what to do on the island but I still wasn’t fully convinced. Even without solid plans, however, there was definitely a sense of finality in terms of my time on Gili T so I figured I’d better tick off one last bucket list item.

I finally rented a bike and cycled the entire circumference of the island. Most people do it in their first two days and I finally saw the rest of my lovely little paradise after four weeks spent living there. Yes dear reader, I spent four whole weeks on Gili T, combining this time with the first two. Seeing the whole thing made me kind of love it even more. The North is utterly beautiful. I always went around the south to get to the sunset spots (we were east so you could go either way but for some reason south always made the most sense). It’s a lot emptier up there, the beaches are less packed and just utterly, utterly stunning. They’re building a Mad Monkey’s hostel over there and had a sign saying they were looking for staff. I actually genuinely considered emailing, which was ridiculous of me anyhow as I’d already been told by some of the staff at my hostel that if I wanted a job I should work there with them. I think I was just fantasising about a life where I stayed on Gili Trawangan, one way or another.

That afternoon I came back to Compass, where Nana and some other dive girls were hanging out. I spent the afternoon talking with them and in the end we went and played monopoly at one of their houses. Some ironically good wholesome fun given the hedonistic reputation of the island. Nana had to leave but I stayed with Julia (who’s house we were playing at) for a while before we decided to go back to Compass’ bar. There, I finally got my travel act together and started making new friends with new tourists that had just arrived. I guess it only felt right to gather one final Bintang gang for my last few days. We ended up going out with them and some of the dive people, but it was a very tame one for me and I was tucked into my bed by 1am with the promise of ‘maybe tomorrow’.

*

The next morning my new pals went to cycle around the island and so I gave a last half-arsed effort to top up my tan by the pool. In walks Jack, part of my Bintang Gang from two weeks ago, finding me exactly where he left me, down to the exact same sun lounger! He’d left to meet some friends who had arrived in Bali and had talked up Gili T so much that they wanted to come here. He was just dropping in on the off-chance that I was there and went to go check into the homestay next door with the promise of a catch-up later. That afternoon, I finally, finally went and booked my boat off the island to Lembongan. Believe me, I really considered staying longer now I had a new crew, but there are only so many excuses I can make. As I was booking the ticket I ran into Jack and his friends again and told them excitedly that I was finally leaving. We instantly agreed on going out later for a big final night – it felt necessary not to go quietly, you know?

I dropped into the dive shop to tell them I was leaving the next day and they whipped out a Compass Diver’s tshirt for me. It’s ridiculous I know, but it was a goal of mine to acquire either a Broken Compass Hostel or a Compass Diver’s tshirt before I left. Some dive shops give them free when you do your open water but mine was not one of them unfortunately. I had to be damn special to get this one and honestly, I’ll be so sad if anything happens to it on my travels: it’s basically my favourite possession right now. I promised to drop into the shop before my boat to say goodbye properly. I also texted Nana and, although she wasn’t working she agreed to pop by the dive shop to see me off the next day. Finally, I went back to the hostel, packed my bags, told my crews and started drinking perhaps far more heavily than I should have. It felt like an event was needed, I guess because this time I knew (as much as we joked otherwise and the hostel staff placed bets on me extending) I was leaving for good. At least for a while.

*

It wasn’t the best or the worst night out I’ve ever had on the island, although there are one or two dodgy stories that will ensure it stays in my memory for a while. I think I was in bed by three, but it was definitely my drunkest on the island. Its always a stupid decision to drink the night before a boat, but luckily the journey wasn’t too horrific. And there we go. That’s how I finally left Gili T, my paradise island and second home in southeast Asia, in an attempt to get back into real travelling again.

Hermitting and hipster cafes

My antisocial week in Gili T after my crew left, where I spent a lot of downtime sleeping off a second bout of food poisoning, getting my advanced open water and discovering the island’s hipster cafes.

After my crew left I have to admit I spent some time being a hermit on one of the most social islands on the planet. It was excellent.

Okay, so it was partially self-inflicted but also out of my control as I kind of got food poisoning again. It didn’t fully take me out of action like last time but I needed to spend a lot of time napping and definitely not drinking alcohol. I’d already booked in with my favourite dive school (and Nana, my fave instructor) to do a Deep Speciality Dive. With my Open Water qualification I can go down to 18 metres, but if I do a deep dive then I can qualify to be allowed to dive down to 30 metres from that point on. There are some extra risks involved which is why you need to do a short half-day course on it. I turned up in the morning for my dive knowing I had food poisoning and just needing to sleep. Hilariously, I’d already asked when I did my open water what happened if you vomitted whilst diving so I was more worried about how exhausted I was, rather than being ill. As such, they sent me home and suggested we do tomorrow instead, which I think was probably an excellent idea as I went back to bed at 8am and slept until about 2pm, before officially going to bed that evening at 9pm.

Nana had some Open Water Qualifications booked in that day unfortunately so Seb, the manager of the dive shop, was assigned to do my deep dive with me instead. I love all of the divers at this shop and I like to think they’re all fond of me, even if they think I’m a ridiculous human being, which I think I most of them do. I am just a bit ditzy sometimes and combine that with the fact that I tend to also be very high energy, I think most grown-ups (I know technically I am one too, but I just mean people who have their sh*t together) can’t help but see me as an excitable child-like being. I’m usually okay with this and think, on this dive especially, it was a cause of endless entertainment.

One of the risks of diving deep is that, since the deeper you go, the more pressure is on you and therefore the more gasses compress, the nitrogen you breathe in normally becomes small enough that, rather than exhale it, it seeps into your bloodstream instead (at least that’s how I understand it). The effects are different on everyone and not everyone suffers from it, but it’s something you need to be aware of as, suffering from Nitrogen Narcosis, or getting ‘narked’ can be akin to drunkenness. They specifically get you to perform tasks at 30 metres so you can somewhat measure the effects on your mental state.

So there we were, the manager of the dive shop and I, 30 metres deep, when Seb hands me a slate with some mathematical questions on them. They weren’t simple but they definitely weren’t hard. I hadn’t noticed any effect on my mind until I stared at the first question, which was multiplying a three digit number that I can no longer remember by 3. I’m normally good at mental maths but just could barely comprehend the question, so instead, started laughing hysterically. I mean, this is a fairly normal reaction for me in any state of elevated excitement but the fact that I knew I was narked made it funnier. Seb started laughing hysterically at me and had to empty his mask a few times as it kept filling with water whilst we were giggling. I did manage to answer the question, correctly, after about a minute of seriously staring at it, but when he turned the slate and gave me a subtraction question I literally couldn’t remember how to do maths. In the end I wrote that on the slate instead of the answer, sending us both into a fit of giggles again. Throughout the rest of the dive I stopped Seb three times whilst he was busy trying to show me white tipped reefsharks and the Glen Nusa wreck to take the slate back and write an answer. I only got it right once we’d ascended to 20 metres. It really shouldn’t have been that hard. When we got back to the dive shop, Seb decided to share the entire story with Nana and her open water students. #classycassi strikes again. At least it helped me bond with those guys.

*

I’d been assuming I’d only do a deep dive and some fun dives, rather than committing to my Advanced Open Water qualification (of which the deep dive counts as one of the dives you need) as I’d also been assuming I’d leave the island after a week. I had gone to visit Andy in his dive shop, however, and ended up having dinner there with him and his mentor (Andy was doing his divemasters) Dave, who also happens to be Nana’s boyfriend. Over the course of chatting, I agreed to go on a fun dive with them, as long as Andy could guide it. To prove my loyalty to Compass Divers, however, I also texted Nana then and there to commit to my Advanced OW with them.

To be honest, I think diving with Andy might have ruined our friendship. Not from my side – I have literally no issue – but it went a bit wrong (not because of me) and his team haven’t stopped teasing him about it yet and we don’t really speak anymore. I did try to rekindle it but it’s clear we’re no longer friends and I get that it’s just not my issue and I can’t force it. I’m only including this (without the details) because I think it’s important to my point about how when you form new friendships travelling, you never get past the honeymoon stage until you stay somewhere for a bit longer. After Perth round two, where I did stay longer and my relationships did change, I did go through a slightly anxious few days where I was worried people liked me until they actually got to know me, and then realised I was not as great as they first thought. I know, I know, these are just paranoid ramblings, but as I said, I felt a bit stressed after leaving Perth for no real reason and this will have affected my interpretation of things that really weren’t a big deal. Now, thinking more clearly, I think that’s just a side-effect of how quickly relationships move when you’re constantly moving and not a statement on me, personally. I hope. Again, I’m including this because it’s just an interesting realisation that I don’t want to sugarcoat when I look back on this trip and I think it’s important to measure the effect solo travel is having on my mental health, for better or for worse. Cards on the table: those first few days back on Gili T this time were the worst I’ve had on this trip so far. That, however, doesn’t mean that they were really bad, nor that I wanted to be anywhere else. As I said in the last post, I just needed some down time which my bout of food poisoning, although not the most pleasant thing, did force me to take.

*

Nana’s Open Water students still had a few days, so I had some lovely days napping and trying to catch up on my blog and make travel plans.

I still hadn’t worked out where my travels would take me next. I mean, what do you do when anywhere is an option? I have so many routes in front of me that all seem attractive: I want to travel around Asia for another 9 months and really get to know it. I want to see the countries I missed the first time around and eat so many good noodles dishes that I get sick of them (not possible). But, I also want to be that girl who actually did live in Oz. It’s always been on my bucket list to live somewhere else in the world and now that I’m here it’s so easy just to say yes to. I want to go back to Perth, travel the west and get a job, see the north, the east, maybe even the middle if I can and definitely see Melbourne in the sunshine. I also really really do want to do my original route. I’ll be genuinely sad if I never make it to Latin America as that was my main selling point in even coming on this trip. I know, it’s a pathetic thing to be indecisive about, but what if this really is once in a lifetime?

In my job I’ve always been really decisive, but in life (or at least in travel) I think I’m actually terrible at making decisions. In the end, I optimistically compromised on all three. I’m hoping to spend another month or two in Asia where it’s warmer (although not necessarily drier), before going back to Australia to try and work and see the country in peak climate, before moving onto my original route with topped up funds in time for the weather to be better across, New Zealand and South and Central America. Those of you with good climate knowledge might realise that this kind of means that I am, at least tentatively, committing to another full year of travel. I don’t know how I’ll feel when it comes down to it, but I know I can’t go back to ‘real life’ yet.

*

During my week or so of hermitting and diving, I needed western food, particularly healthy and clean flavoured western food. I think food poisoning makes me just need familiarity. This meant that I inadvertently discovered a whole new side to Gili T. Previously, it’s been a haze of sunsets and partying and taking all of my new crews to the night markets and good local restaurants I know. Suddenly it was Nana and my other dive friends recommending hipster cafes to me, reasonably early nights and morning dives, and socialising casually with the island’s long-term residents, rather than intensely with other tourists. There is a different vibe as a long-termer and although I know I’m not technically one, I definitely transitioned onto the edges of that social scene during this week.

Side bar: I get why the longtermers are anti-social now – or at least compared to the tourists. It’s pretty exhausting befriending new people every few days, and on an island like Gili T, keeping up with those friendships involves a lot of partying, which, if you’re diving every day at 9am is a bit unsustainable. I used to think the social media person at my hostel was kind of aloof but now I realise that the friendly aquaintance level I reached with her (and only after my second stay) was actually a really solid achievement given how bored of new people leaving she must be.

Back to food: I don’t know how I missed how good the hipster cafes were those first two times on this island. God, what have I been doing with my time here? Okay, they’re twice the price of the local food but they’re so so good. Banyan is my favourite – I had the purple wrap four times in order to dissect exactly what’s in it so I can add it to my repertoire of lunches some day. In fact, I’m sort of feeling a ‘top 10 places to eat on Gili T’ post coming on at some point. I’ll give you three hipster cafes for now though, just to get you started: after Banyan for purple wraps or smoothie bowls, go to Casa Vintage for falafels and sit on the top level for sunset, then Kayu cafe for cake. I heavily recommend the beetroot chocolate if they have it that day. Hit me up if you want to know where the best pizza in Asia is (hint: I’m pretty sure it’s on Gili T).

Gili T #3

My first five (or so) days back on Gili T with my third Bintang Gang (as I’ve aptly named my island crews). Making friends and doing the standard island activities.

Yes, this is my third time here in 6 weeks. It’s not even my favourite place I’ve been to, nor does it contain my favourite experience. It does feel like it’s mine though – in the sense that it’s not one of those places that is irrevocably intertwined with the people I’ve met here and the experiences I’ve had with them. It’s just mine, sod everyone else. And I do kind of love it – more so, the longer I spend here.

I did consider doing more of Lombok when I flew in but I was so stressed about my route when I left Perth that just going somewhere that I didn’t have to think about made the most sense to me.

*

On the flight to Lombok the menu prices were in Indonesian Rupiah and my mind was utterly blown by how inexpensive everything suddenly was. Even airplane food prices were dirt cheap after Australia. And let’s take a moment here to appreciate the fact that I had my first flight in/out of Indonesia with minimal incidents (okay, I was super late for check-in but this was Australia after all and they can handle my incompetence). I think this means I must be winning.

Within an hour of landing, I was safely in a Grab and on my way to a hotel in Mataram to leave from Bangsal harbour the next day (it was like 11pm – I wasn’t going to try and cross that night). After 10 minutes my grab driver had already a) tried to scam me and b) offered me a cigarette. Oh Asia! Don’t let them charge you for airport parking or the tolls btw – it’s included in your Grab fair. I’d forgotten how chatty local people are here – I like it – it tends to bring out the best in me. Although I can’t tell you how bored I am of the following joke:

Local: ‘Where are you from?’

Me: ‘The UK. Where are you from? Lombok?’

Local: ‘From my mother’

Don’t say it first either – they’ll respond with ‘which part?’. Eurgh.

*

I had a room to myself as it was one of the easiest things to find en-route to the harbour, and of course: Asia prices! I’m gonna have to be careful I don’t blow through all of my money on that philosophy alone. It was nice having my own room after staying in a dorm without even a curtain for two weeks, although I must admit I was missing Spinners a little (okay, quite a lot). I had a fairly lazy morning before getting another Grab to the harbour the next day. I met a Dutch guy waiting for the boat and we quickly started chatting (we reunited on the island a few days later too for sunset finger painting). It’s kind of cool being on your way to somewhere that’s still exotic to you, but having a handful of firsthand recommendations and tips. Plus, it kind of amazes me how I can step into a country or even a continent, where I know no one, and immediately make friends at the bus stop or ferry port. People around the world seem to like me (or are at least resigned to put up with me). Good for me.

*

When I arrived at my go-to Gili T hostel, Broken Compass, the staff were outside the door, all dressed up, shouting ‘Welcome Cassi!’. It was beautiful and not even really a lie. They were there, and they were all dressed up, and they did shout ‘Welcome Cassi!’ as I arrived without me needing to remind them who I was. They also happened to all be off to a wedding rather than being my official welcome party, but I enjoyed it either way. That first day was definitely bitter sweet. I liked being back somewhere that feels weirdly like home, despite all of it’s flaws, but I felt like I did when I first left the UK to go travelling. Not sad exactly but definitely experiencing some feelings of loss for what I’d left behind in Oz. It’s easier to pinpoint the emotion this time around. Let’s hope I get over it a bit sooner.

In my hostel I noticed a ton of dive and hostel staff that I knew but the only other guests seemed to be one large group. I think I’ve said before that I tend to steer clear of large groups because I always assume (often incorrectly) that they probably are just on holiday together and are less into making friends. Therefore, I went on a little walk around the island alone that afternoon and went to sit in a spot I found on my first ever day here, which you have to climb over the beams of a ruined building to get to. Other tourists tend to stay away (they’re not harcore like #travelcassi) so I like it, plus, you’re completely shielded from the mainland and therefore invisible unless someone else decides to climb the rocks. It’s a great sunset spot but I have noticed since being here this time that other people have started to discover this too.

When I returned to my hostel, one of the dive staff I knew was there with a few other island residents I vaguely knew from last time and so I sat and had a beer with them to catch up, and also so as not to seem like a complete loner/loser. The big group were there playing drinking games (and had spotted me having dinner alone earlier so I needed to seem cooler than I am to make up for it). I did notice, however, that they’d gained a few more stragglers. One of whom was definitely British (my best guess for the group previously had been German or Dutch). My last dive pal left and I still had half a beer, so I sucked it up and approached the group. It did cross my mind to literally just go to bed – after all, hostel breakfast is where I do most of my good friendship building anyhow, but I knew it wouldn’t cheer me up to actively enforce my missing-of-Perth by hermitting away.

The original six I saw turned out to be both German (two guys travelling together plus another one they’d acquired that day) and Dutch (the girls). The new recruits were a British guy travelling with a Dutch girl, and a Danish guy who was living in Ubud. I played a few drinking games with them before they decided to head out to experience the famous Gili T nightlife. I swear I meant it when I said I wasn’t coming with them: I was absolutely set on having an early night and recovering from the goon-lifestyle of Oz. The thing about Gili T is that going out is so casual: everything is so close and you don’t massively dress up. You can just pop out and pop back and it’s not a lot of effort, so when Jack (british guy) got me to compromise on coming out for one beer, I agreed. In fairness to me, I did only drink one beer (I always switch to water as soon as we hit actual clubs just as a rule to keep the hangover minimal) but it took me about 5 hours after said beer to actually leave. My first night back and I’d been hoisted onto one of the German guys’ shoulders so I could commence my standard ritual of screaming Mr Brightside before crawling into bed at the 5am call to prayer: Gili T standard. I frickin’ love this island.

This bunch, minus the three Dutch girls who went off and did their own thing, and with the addition of the American girl I met by the pool the next day, became my third-time-round Gili T crew for the next few days.

*

My tourist experience of this island always differs slightly depending on the group, but it always tends to include: sunsets, local food, dancing until late (apart from Ramadan where it was a wee bit earlier) and being hungover by the pool in one form or another. The first few days this time were no different, although they were far more creative with sunsets: we had a guitar and singing session and even an impressionist finger painting session, as well as a trying-to-keep-three-Germans-on-unnamed-substances-in-check session. The last instance did allow me to tick off another bucket list item, however, as, just after the sunset, we were all staring at the stars when the three German guys decided they needed to stand in a line and do some synchronised relieving of their bladders into the ocean. Suddenly they started exclaiming and demanding that anyone with a full bladder immediately empty it into the sea as a matter of urgency. It turned out that they’d activated some of the bioluminescent algae in the waters here by disturbing it. Rather than follow their suggestion, we all started hurling handfuls of pebbles into the sea and, whilst there wasn’t much of it, we definitely managed to make it glow. We have a video of it, but the camera isn’t good enough to capture the glow, so it’s just a dark video with an audio of us yelling like idiots. Still entertaining. Probably only to us though.

The final token Gili T crew activity is the Broken Compass Wednesday Night pub quiz, and this crew did not disappoint. In all honesty, I barely remember the quiz itself – we were hitting the bintangs pretty hard and we definitely did not win this time – but I had a really lovely moment when I realised I knew half of the attendees. Ferry guy was there in a team, on the table next to him were a couple I’d met diving here last time, who, like me, had returned to the island basically right after leaving it. Andy, my teammate from last time was there, and on a separate table was my old dive instructor Nana, and of course, there were other hostel guests I knew. It sort of reminded me of being in my uni town and knowing a ton of people in whichever bar you go into. It was nice to realise you have ties somewhere when you’ve been living such a nomadic life for the past few months.

*

I also discovered that I am terrible at volleyball. I’m more of a pool person (habits from travelling solo and not wanting to leave your stuff – also: #sandybits) whereas these guys loved the beach so I spent more time there than I have done previously on this island. There was a volleyball net there and a group of eager Australians. I did try and play for a good hour but someone taller would always get there first and, in all honesty, when they let me have a go, it didn’t go well for our side, so I do understand. In the end I decided to teach one of the Germans yoga instead. I also finally took myself to Gili Castle, another hostel across the road, where they have a climbing wall set over the pool. When I first met my Cambridge bestie (hey Rachel, hey) we realised that coffee and beer dates were not going to be a sustainable way to continuously build our budding friendship. As such, we took up bouldering at our local gym together and went for a good few years. We officially stopped when Rachel left Cambridge about 9 months ago so having a go here felt like a necessity. Embarrassingly, I was not good at it and made a slight scene when it was time to jump from the wall into the pool.

*

The crew stayed for four or five days, but I’d already booked in for at least one week. I knew I’d have a few turnovers of crews staying that long, and, honestly, I was kind of ready for these guys to leave. They were fine but, as much as I hate to admit it, this was the first time on this trip so far that I’ve gotten social exhaustion. Like, I liked my crew, but after the months of constantly meeting new people, and the ups-and-downs of Australia, I think I was ready for a bit of down-time. I knew a few more of the guests, and had a Sydney friend who was on the island that I’d promised to take to the Night Markets for food, but after those guys left, I had quite a different (and mostly welcome) Gili T experience.

Shooting and Diving

My final week in Indonesia, back on Gili T during its quiet period, getting my open water diving qualification and becoming more infatuated with the island.

I’m currently sat in the airport in Kuta, after missing my second (and one of the more expensive) flights of my trip. It was a bit stressy at first but now it’s just comical and I’m whiling away the remaining 5 hours until my next flight, finally experiencing those airport overpriced restaurants that I’ve literally never understood the point of before. I’m already out of rupiah so I am just putting it, like my additional flight and the checked baggage they made me purchase purely for my selfie stick (yes, you read that correctly), on my credit card and forgetting it ever happened.

Today I am leaving Asia to go onto Australia (assuming I make this flight anyhow). My whole experience here has been far more incredible than I could ever have predicted, in completely unexpected ways and there’s no way in hell I would ever, ever, have changed my decision to travel or trade these memories for anything. My last few days have been wonderful. I spent them, as mentioned last time, back on Gili T. Basically I never travelled Indonesia or even Bali or, hell, even the other Gilis. I literally just had a holiday on the Island that I now think of as my Southeast Asian home. I doubt I’ll spend quite as long in any other single place as I did there, and I really really don’t regret it at all, despite my doubts last post.

*

I owned arriving this time. None of the scamming, none of the wandering awkwardly around the town, asking where on earth my hostel was because my data was being weird. I was somewhere familar, which, when travelling, feels like being home and I strolled confidently through the streets, side-stepping confused tourists and touts and rocked right back up at Broken Compass hostel to the bemused faces of the staff, who thankfully, still recognised me.

My old crew were obviously all gone, which was probably for the best, although there were a few extended crew stragglers I ran into over the next few days, which was nice. I opted not to start my diving course straight away, as I found out that you shouldn’t really be diving with a cold as it can really affect your reaction to the increasing pressure as you descend. You also definitely shouldn’t drink whilst diving, so I was already mentally prepared to have a very different Gili T experience this time around. This was furthered by the fact that Ramadan began on the second day I was there. Ramadan is celebrated in Britain, and, growing up in Birmingham, this isn’t the first time I’ve experienced it. It is, however, the first time I’ve experienced it whilst living in a Muslim-dominated place. I’ve got to say, it was kind of a privilege. Like, obviously, it’s a tourist island so they definitely dilute it down to allow for tourism to keep going, but, I don’t know – it was nice to still be welcomed into the community during this time, even though it completely changed the experience.

It was quiet. Well, tourism-wise it was very quiet, but audible-wise? Broken Compass is right next to the mosque so we were treated to the call to prayer a lot. I didn’t mind it, even in the night, even not wearing earplugs (to make equalising easier), but I can imagine that lots of people would. I guess way less people come to a party island when all the parties are being shut down by midnight. I eventually found some cool people but it was harder to find my groove with a crew this time around to be honest. Without drunken raucousness to bond us quickly, it took longer to meet the right people. And maybe there were less options. I was very busy with my course and crashing in the evenings from cold and exercise exhaustion anyhow so it would have been harder to maintain a group of friends here in the early days. I did, at least I like to think, bond really well with the diving staff and some other long-term Gili T divers though.

I went through Compass Divers, the diving school linked to my hostel, mostly because I’m totally loyal to that hostel and it was easiest. Because it’s low season I actually got one-on-one tuition for the entirety of my course. They teach SSI, not PADI and I spoke to a lot of people who did PADI and it sounds far less thorough (but potentially far easier – I studied a lotttt). I loved these guys. I had one instructor, Nana, assigned to me, who was utterly awesome in every single way, but all of the staff, even those I never worked with at all, learnt my name and chatted to me whenever I was around. Really great atmosphere and I really really recommend if you ever find yourself looking for a diving school in Gili T. Now that I have my fan-girling out of the way, I’ll tell you about diving.

I’ve never scuba’d before. I just assumed, since I absolutely love being in water, that I would love it and didn’t need to do a trial dive to be sure of that. I’m actually glad I booked the full course as, if I’d only had one dive I’m not certain I’d have ever tried it again. Being underwater was fantastic – utterly mind-blowing actually – but for most of that first dive I wasn’t even thinking about that. I was thinking about equalising and the fact that I was diving with congestion. Never, ever Google diving with a cold if you’re thinking about diving with a cold. Or at least if you’re at the end of your cold and barely congested at all. It’ll make you paranoid about everything. Because I had to study a lot of theory for my course, and because I am, let’s face it, a complete boffin, I had read the section on equalising and diving with a cold already and was pretty freaked out. Ultimately the choice to dive was up to me, although the team reassured me that since my cold was near the end, it shouldn’t cause a problem. I took a decongestant beforehand and had practiced equalising in the pool in the morning before my first dive.

To equalise, you descend slowly, swallowing or moving your jaw to ease the pressure in your ears. When it starts to hurt, you go a little higher in the water until the pain ceases, and try and equalise again. The problem is, I was really struggling to equalise, and I was getting a massive, the course describes it as a, ‘wedging sensation’ behind my eyes. At about 10 metres down that and the ear pain became almost unbearable and it crossed my mind to ask to come back up without finishing the dive. If it had lasted much longer I might have. Luckily, we ascended slightly and I was able to get rid of it, but my God, that terrified me that I was really potentially damaging myself and I worried about it for the rest of the dive. I got much better at equalising throughout the next few days and really really started to love diving.

It is utterly incredible to experience moving through water like that, and to practice bouyancy – or as I like to think of it – learning to levitate, in water. Gili T has good visibility and great marine life. I swam two feet away from a 1.5 metre green turtle and she couldn’t have cared less. I sneakily was allowed to go down to 20 metres on an 18 metre dive (although officially for the record, we will always say it was only 18) in order to see the sharks swimming 2 metres away underneath a rock outcrop. I love learning anyhow and I learnt so much about the science behind scuba and about marine life. So much so that I keep dreaming I’m in the water.

Day three of the course you do two dives. After the morning’s dive Nana quizzed me on my studies and then whipped out the exam, which I wasn’t expecting to see until after the second dive that day. I got 49 out of 50 – ironically the question I got wrong was about equalising because I over-thought it (I crossed out the correct answer and changed to an incorrect). But I passed. Really well actually. That afternoons’ dive I really struggled to equalise. I knew exactly what to do by this point, and had my own dive computer in order to do it, but it took a good ten minutes just to get to 10 metres, which it hadn’t since my first pool sessions. Apart from that everything went excellently and I jumped from the balcony into the pool at the dive shop to celebrate. I thought they were joking when they said this was a thing but Nana filmed it with the Go Pro she had, very very kindly, brought along to the last dive so I could have photos. Again, excellent, excellent instructor. I am now an SSI certified open water diver, and have swam with sharks and jumped off a balcony. I think this officially makes ‘Travel Cassi’ a badass.

*

That evening was not my last night on the island, but my last in the hostel because they were out of room so I was staying at the homestay next door which kind of shared the hostel space anyhow. Given it was my last Broken Compass official night, I thought it was rather fitting that it ended exactly how it began: with the Broken Compass pub quiz. It was a much smaller quiz that night, with only about 5 teams (but still prizes for 1st, 2nd and 3rd place) and Nana, her boyfriend, and some of her previous students who were an older and mental, but utterly amazing couple, were there, along with another of their dive friends, Andy.

The former four were on a table right next to ours but we nabbed Andy for our team as he was technically on our table (which was a centimetre from theirs). Since I had just passed my open water I was drinking Radlers (flavoured, low-alcohol Bintang) that evening as a compromise between not getting very drunk but celebrating. That is, until we completely bossed it at the pub quiz and won a 500,000rp bar tab between the four of us with an hour left until everything closed. There was a horror movie round and two massive horror fans in our team (myself being one of them) which we got full marks for, and then Emily (a girl in my dorm) just knew everything else. Andy didn’t contribute much, apart from offensive team name suggestions so I had to take over on that front too (I am, of course, teasing Andy, in case you ever read this). We won best team name in the end thank you very much. I think ‘Quiz’ puns are overused and cliche so I prefer puns that somehow tie in the pub element, the quiz element and in this special circumstance, the Gili T element. We went with ‘We don’t think “Joss” is the answer but it’s worth a shot’ – thank you, thank you very much.

The hilarious thing about this second time on Gili T is that I, theoretically should not have had as many ‘highlight of my trip’ nights as I did compared to last week. In spite of how quiet the island was, there are two absolute standouts and this is the first. Because there was such a short window in which to use our tab, we each drank a good six units of alcohol in about 20 minutes, so spent that hour far far more drunk than we should have been (I say this to pretend I’m cooler than I am but, in truth, that’s a solid amount for me in reality). As such, we were pretty drunk when we got to the bar and, since there’s a noise curfew from 10:30pm, they didn’t have a sound system, just a guy with a guitar.

I don’t entirely know how it happened, but somehow I found myself up there on the podium dueting with him. Except we didn’t know any of the same songs (except randomly for Milky Chance, Stolen Dance) and so for the most part I found myself doing, what in my head was soulful adlibbing, but was actually probably like cats attempting the call to prayer. Don’t get me wrong, I’ve been complimented on my voice more times than I think it deserves, but that drunk? I’m so glad Emily got bored of us trying to decide on a song and didn’t film it in the end. I was definitely drunk enough to post that on instagram stories and pass out just in time for peak viewing time in the UK. Phew.

The second night was straight out of a YA book. It was the day after the pub quiz and after hiding my shame by the pool all morning I took Emily and new pal Andy (our fourth quizketeer – don’t judge me, I used all my punning power on that quiz team name – had left that morning) to my favourite food place I went to in the whole of Indonesia: the night market. We got Nasi Padang and ate it on the beach. The stars were visible so we were playing with the Sky Map app. I saw a really bright red star that looked like it was flashing – we assumed it must have been a satellite at first but when we looked it up we found it was Arcturus, otherwise known as (and this is too, too perfect) ‘Bintang Biduk’ throughout Indonesia. We were staring at the Bintang Star! I didn’t even know there was such a thing but I picked it right out of the sky. After that, we, of course, had to go and buy some Bintang. We got the orange radlers because they’re the best ones and it might well be my last.

We found a place on the beach to stargaze, only to see a shooting star. I googled it, and there was a meteor shower visible in both hemispheres that had just peaked. I’m sorry but how poetic is that? We were lying on a beach, on a tiny island south of the equator, watching a meteor shower whilst drinking beer named after a star. You could not write that sh*t. It was amazing for my last night on Gili T.

Of course, the only issue was that my ear hadn’t fully unblocked yet, and after waking up at 3am from a dream where I was diving and couldn’t equalise, I realised how much bloody pain I was in. I got a bit worried because I was leaving to go to Bali the next day in order to take my flight (the one I just missed) the following day and if my ears were damaged I might be deemed unfit to fly. I went to a clinic the next morning to learn that I had an ear infection but could still fly. I paid an obscene amount for drugs but they’re stopping the pain so hopefully it’ll be okay.

Before I got my boat off of Gili T I dropped by the dive shop to say goodbye. Hugs were shared and I realised that I would love to return one day to dive with them again, circumstances allowing.

*

The real love story here is between me and Gili T. I should never have fallen for it the way I did. I danced to the heaving hedonistic beats of the party scene and wandered it’s ghost-like meditative streets during Ramadan. I didn’t ever climb it’s highest (and only) peak nor dive it’s deepest depths but, damn, I love that Island. And I like to think that that final night it was romancing me a little too.

*

I left the island and spent my final night in Kuta, where I finally retrieved my waterproof camera and found something I’d given up hope on – a cute Indonesia patch for my bag.

Eat, Pray, Flu Bug

Four days in Ubud, mostly being ill, doing nothing, and feeling guilty about it.

I’ve done Indonesia terribly. I know this.

A great friend told me, as I was worrying to her about planning this trip, that it’s better to do something badly than to have not done it at all. I agree with this, in this instance, but think it might be even better to do it again, correctly, some day.

It all started when they made me book my exit flight before I could enter the country. I’ve heard that Expedia have a 24 hour cancellation window, and if I’d have known this at the time, I might have booked a fake flight out and cancelled it as soon as I arrived, and rebooked once I had a better idea of what I wanted to do here. As it stands I’m leaving soon and didn’t do a lot of the amazing things I was really near to. I’ve made my peace with it though. Sure, it would have been nice to do some of the cool Ubud stuff my new instagram friends are currently showcasing, but I had a different experience.

So, I left Gili T on a fastboat, where they were playing Aquaman on repeat. I’ve seen the end and then the beginning of this movie, up until some guy sat in front of me and blocked my view. I might try and watch the middle some day, but the general gist of the plot was clear. Still, I did enjoy the water-movie theme.

When getting off the boat EVERYONE will try and scam you. Some guy demanded to see my ticket and blocked my exit from the boat, when I showed it he was like ‘yeah, you’re with me’, waited for me to collect my bag, and took me to the ticket office telling me the entire way that Ubud was the last stop and it would take three hours to get there and that I’d be better off taking a taxi. Since I’d already paid for the shuttle bus, he offered to kindly only charge me 400,000rp for the journey instead of 800,000. I’d paid 200,000 from Lombok airport to the pier, which was further than Ubud. At this point I asked him if he was a taxi driver and he responded ‘No, I’m your bus driver’. Riiighttt. He kept trying to get me to take the taxi, to the point where I got a bit annoyed and did the very very unBritish thing of asking him, directly, to please stop trying to rip me off as I just want to take the bus I paid for. He disappeared after that and someone else drove my, direct, bus to Ubud and dropped me off at my hotel about an hour later. Bloody pier scams.

This is the part of my trip where I checked into an extremely, extremely fancy hotel and did nothing, other than the brave achievement of aging, for two days. It was incredible. The bed was wider than it was long, and there was a bath and a balcony! My first evening was spent drinking bintang in the bath, whereas my birthday was spent exploiting the hotel buffet breakfast, getting pampered in the spa, exploiting the free afternoon tea, getting awkwardly sang to by three staff members outside my door with cake and exploiting room service. I had a pretty good birthday, although I woke up feeling a bit under the weather. At first I thought I was hungover from my room service wine, but realised eventually that I actually had (still have) what can only be described as Freshers’ flu, from my Gili T antics.

Being sick in my amazing hotel would have been very convenient, albeit a waste, but unfortunately I was now on the part of my trip where I was staying in a nearby hostel and exploring everything Ubud has to offer. Well, I managed the first part of that.

I was just too ill for the second. I really, really wanted to climb a volcano at 2am to see the incredible sunrise (I know it was, I saw photos) and I really really wanted to rent a scooter and ride out to the rice paddies and the waterfalls. But I had my stupid flu bug (okay, I know it’s just a cold but I was not passing up the pun for this title) thing and could barely cope with going to a nearby mexican/sailor themed restaurant for dinner with my new friends. In fact, doing nothing in Ubud was stressing me out so much that I made the decision to do nothing in a place where I knew nothing was the best thing to do: Gili T.

YES THAT’S RIGHT, I CAME BACK.

I know. I’ve been to places that I’ve utterly loved previously, but this is the only one I’ve come back to so far. The main reasoning is that I realised towards the end of my last stint here that I actually really really did want to do an open water dive qualification. I’d spent some time researching the best ones but, whilst Amed and Nusa Lembongan offered great diving and a new place to see, they also didn’t look incredibly social, and after spending several days alone for my birthday, I needed to be around people. I was also too bloody sick to go somewhere that might require a lot of effort on my part. Okay, I just did the easy thing, but I’m really really okay with it. I’ve been sad not to spend a long time in a single place and, although I would never ever have put money, at the beginning of this trip, on that place being the island equivalent of Indonesia’s frat boy, it turns out I have a soft spot for cliche tourist places. Especially ones that don’t judge me drinking Berocca by the pool when I feel crappy.

I regret that I didn’t see more of Bali, and I would love to see more of Indonesia in general, but that was never going to be this trip anyhow, but under the circumstances, I’m okay with how this has gone.

*

The few days I spent in actual Ubud were cool. I loved the statues everywhere and the way that every entrance looked like a temple. It was pretty beautiful. The food wasn’t as cheap as the Gilis, and all the things to see/do where a little bit inconvenient/expensive if you’re too ill to be trusted on a scooter or don’t want to be mugged by monkeys. Since leaving, I’ve actually been told by several people that all of the amazing instagram pics – well, that’s all they are. Turn your camera around on some of the coolest sites and you’ll just see a hundred people waiting in line with a camera. Don’t get me wrong, I’m sure if I was there I’d have done the same, but I don’t feel so bad about missing something like that. I’m sure not everything in Ubud is this way but I can definitely cope without the instagram pic if that’s all I’m venturing out ill for.

Great Sexpectations

Some thoughts on the nature of consent and backpacking culture on Gili T.

Before I went travelling I was warned several times, by other women, not to smile or be friendly to strange men. I am naturally pretty friendly and, so British that, if someone talks to me then I usually will respond out of a desire not to seem rude. It has meant that I’ve had some unwanted attention some of the time, including comments that, I’m sure they think of as complimentary, but are actually pretty sexist and disrespectful, more times than is reasonable. I’ve made jokes on my blog and in life several times that I need to stop being so nice. To cocoon myself in to all but my own company, making no eye-contact or having any interaction with the outside world. That it’s my own fault for not fully understanding every single possible connotation of all of my actions, including something as natural and innocent as a smile. It’s not.

Every single female solo traveller that the subject has ever come up with has admitted to carrying a rape alarm. Every male it has ever come up with has rolled his eyes or told me ‘Stop worrying, you’ll be fine’ even though many of them have never even had to consider what it would mean to feel so unsafe in the world every day that you have to carry something like that, and even that extra protection feels insufficient. And I laugh and joke about the fact that my paranoia is extreme and unnecessary. It’s not.

I thank my lucky stars every single day that I have never been violated like that against my will and even now, am touching the nearest wooden counter, just in case by saying that I’ve jinxed it. That I’m ‘asking for it’ somehow. It shouldn’t need to come down to luck. It shouldn’t be luck that stops someone else from attacking me.

But consent isn’t black and white, unfortunately, and Gili T made me realise that some people genuinely don’t understand where the line is.

So it turns out that there is a bit of a culture of promiscuity amongst backpackers, which is fair enough, but apparently there’s also an expectation for promiscuity amongst backpackers. I’m actually pretty old fashioned and have always been upfront about this, so for me this doesn’t appeal, but I’m fine for other people to do what they want. At least until I experienced the expectation that all backpackers ought to be like this and the kind of pressure people think it’s okay to apply if you’re not.

The reason I haven’t mentioned my Gili T crew’s names in these posts is because, whilst I genuinely think he’s a nice guy and honestly doesn’t realise how dark some of what he said (whilst under the influence of alcohol, to be fair) is, I need to call one of them out on something. I don’t particularly want to share this story on my public blog, but I think it’s pretty important that I do: I never wanted to sugar-coat solo travel.

My final night on Gili T, I went to my dorm to go to bed at 4am only to very quickly realise that the only other two people currently in my dorm were having some ‘alone time’. I don’t particularly want to be in a room during that – I could guess who they were and, although we laughed about it the next day, if I hadn’t had somewhere else to go I would have been pretty annoyed.

A friend of mine from the last few days’ couldn’t get a dorm bed as they’d all sold out and so he’d booked a private room next door instead. I knew it’d be fine for me to crash over there since we’d joked about the possibility of walking in on something like that earlier. It doesn’t happen often but it is a legitimate risk of hostel life. I wandered over at 4am, literally just wanting to pass out and sleep before my boat off the island at 10.

He, however, took this as an opportunity to try and convince me that maybe a one-night-stand was a good idea. That even though no single part of me, mentally or physically, was up for this, maybe if I just forced myself through it I’d decide that I liked it in the end. Those weren’t his exact words but that was the idea. Maybe if I just got through it I’d like it. If I just lay there and took it, until it started to feel good. What the actual f*ck?

I have to point out that this is a guy who’d slut-shamed the girl in my dorm earlier, saying he has less respect for girls (not people, girls) who sleep around, and then actually had the nerve to try and convince me to do just that. We’d even had an argument earlier that day where he got genuinely pretty upset at the idea that he might be applying pressure. The worst part is, I genuinely believe that this guy thinks he’s a good guy and would want to be a good guy. I haven’t named him because I think so too – I think he just doesn’t know where the line is. Yes, okay, he didn’t physically force himself on me, but he gave it a damn good mental go, and he’s not the first.

I know many of you might think I’m just another girl ‘playing the victim’ and taking offense at something that really shouldn’t have been that offensive. #metoo doesn’t even begin to cover the type of sh*t most of us go through every day. The preparation (charged phone, rape alarm, safe route home, money, keys as weapons, shoes I can run in if needed, etc etc) most women go through just to go out alone. The fear of walking down a dark street with a group of (probably harmless) guys just behind. The uncomfortableness when someone ‘manspreads’ into your personal space and you have to curl uncomfortably into a corner so no part of your body is touching theirs in case it’s taken as an invitation. Having to give someone your number on an empty street because you’re too afraid to say no because there’s no one around. It sounds mental I know, it sounds like I’m paranoid or taking the p*ss. That this is just an exaggeration to prove my point. It’s not.

This is my issue here. It didn’t work on me, but I worry that it would and does work on other people. There’s this idea that as long as someone has said ‘yes’ then it’s all fair game. No matter how you get them to that point. Alcohol, flattery or just sheer emotional abuse, as long as they agreed, it’s within the realms of what’s acceptably called consent. Legally this might well be so, but are we really 100% comfortable getting a ‘yes’ out of someone who is clearly thinking ‘no’, and is it really okay to knowingly force that ‘yes’ through bribery, shame, guilt, coercian, emotional blackmail or abuse? Guess what?

It’s not.

Vodka Joss and Memory Loss

Six (I think) days on Gili Trawangan, doing very very little but loving every second.

Gili Trawangan is a vortex. A black hole consuming time and memory, leaving only tan lines, a hangover and a vague addiction to a mystery powder called ‘Joss’ in it’s wake.

It’s excellent.

*

Once I got off of my flight I spent a good hour in the airport drinking coffee, working out the exchange rate and finding the best way to get to Gili T. Before I missed my original flight I was planning on spending a few days in Lombok, but I hadn’t yet figured out where. After I missed my flight I was only left with six days before I needed to be in Bali, so I gifted them to the one place I knew I was definitely going: the Gili Islands, rather than trying to cram too much in by splitting my time.

One month ago, I definitely wouldn’t have gone for Gili T. I’d heard it was a party island and one month ago that wasn’t my scene. The problem is that now, I’ve been to enough social hubs that a vibrant social scene appealed to me more than a calm, quiet place, especially after spending a few days downtime in KL, and knowing that I’ll get some alone time for my birthday (which incidentally is today but I’m writing about the past week). So I actually voluntarily choose the cliche, tourist, party island. Huh. Travel really has changed me.

I’d read that the most efficient option (cost and timewise) was to bypass the airport transfer options and get a taxi to the pier from outside. I actually was on the Grab app, but annoyingly my sim hadn’t registered which country it was in yet and wasn’t working more than 10 metres from the airport. I knew that the Grab price was 250,000 rupiah though so when a taxi approached me offering me the ride for 350,000 I told him as much and he quickly reduced down. I considered still getting the Grab – it’s safer after all but trying to find your driver when your internet is iffy can be annoying, so after clarifying with this taxi man that he’d definitely get me all the way to the correct pier (there are a ton of scams around, including taking you to the wrong pier, or not being able to take you all the way without having to bribe an official) and sneakily taking a photo of his licence plate and sending it to some friends whilst I still had WiFI, I set off.

Apart from the taxi man smoking (he had all the windows down so I guess it could have been worse), the journey was utterly fine. He dropped me at the correct pier but he did drop me just outside the wrong ticket office, where I was immediately pounced on by ticket touts trying to sell me the fast boat over, telling me that the public boat wouldn’t leave until it was full and I was the first person buying a ticket. I stuck to my guns anyway and paid 20,000IDR for the public ferry, only to be the last person hurried onto a completely full ferry 2 minutes later. I later found out that the ticket should have been 15,000 from the official ticket office, but I could have been scammed far worse than 25p so I’ll take it as a win.

*

It’s now time for my birthday spa treatment so will finish this later.

*

Manicured, pedicured, in my hotel robe and stuffed with cake, I am back to try, with you dear reader, to fathom out what happened to the last six days. Honestly, I’m not sure.

I arrived at my hostel, the Broken Compass, which I’d found independently but had later been recommended to me by a fellow traveller. It may well be my favourite hostel I’ve ever stayed in, even though I changed rooms almost every night because it was so full and it contains one of my most traumatic dorm experiences (we’ll get to that later). My first impression, however, was lots of people I didn’t know, who weren’t really looking up, in a group by the pool. It felt difficult to make friends here – the trick has always been make eye-contact with everyone and smile when they make it back. Easy! Although it does get you a few unwanted phone numbers… Maybe I need to rethink my approach….

Anyhow, I suspect I went exploring that first day – in fact, I know I did as I have cute sunset photos taken from climbing a death-defying course over an old building to some rocks.

I then returned to the hostel in time for the pub quiz I’d been told about that evening. I got there early and set up to blog for an hour or so before everyone started arriving. The first group were three guys next to me who were suggesting questionable names for the quiz that I was openly laughing at (again, maybe I need to change my approach…). I considered asking to join them but thought, since I had one of the few remaining tables, there’s a chance other people, with better team names, might want to join me. Nah, my real hesitation was that they were likely all friends and I didn’t want to obligate them to let a randomer in. As I was debating this, the guys invited me to join them: turns out two of them were together and they’d met the third guy that day. The guys were utterly convinced we would win that quiz, and, in fairness, we were tied for second place with 3 other teams. We came 5th in the end after several tie-breakers. That’s pretty good for me pub-quiz-wise actually. I actually wanted to go to bed early that night but I also really wanted friends so we ended up going to a few bars and I crawled into my bed, really quite drunk, at about 3am. You’re already getting an impression of how this week is going to go.

I spent the next day chilling by the pool. It was pretty amazing actually and I have never appreciated a hostel pool quite so much before. The scary anti-social pool dwellers from yesterday were there and it turns out they’re not so scary or anti-social at all once you’re amongst them. In fact, these guys became my main crew for the rest of the week.

We did several great things, each on multiple occasions during that week, including watching a ton of sunsets at our local, Goa Sunset (which was a 25 minute walk and actually not that local), eating all of the nasi padang at the night market (the middle stall with the full tables – I don’t know the name but I absolutely recommend), topping up our tans and practicing diving in the hostel pool, sampling far too many flavours of Cookies and Cones‘ ice-cream, and dancing til 5am whilst running only on Joss shots.

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I’m not going to lie, the above makes up 90% of my Gili T experience. I have no regrets here – the experience was amazing in the carefree way partying all night can only be when you put a bunch of young people together who’ve just met, none of whom have jobs to worry about. God, I’m suddenly understanding the Love Island rationale.

The other 10% includes the time I tried paddle-boarding with my pub quiz guys, all of my time (and there was a good hour or two of it) in the Billabong store buying new bikinis (I realised mine were old and really not functional for diving) and the best decision my crew and I made on the island: upgrading from the public snorkelling tour to a private boat. I really want to include photos but my camera is currently not in my possession due to me leaving it in the hostel and having to ask a friend to leave it in their hotel in Kuta. I’ll pick it up before I leave Indonesia and hopefully there’ll be some good shots on there.

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Gili T was honestly one of my favourite places I’ve been so far. So much so that it’s genuinely crossed my mind to go right back this week to get my PADI open water certification. I am, however, going to do a second post relating to Gili T, on a subject I’ve been mostly ignoring in my blogs these past few months but have realised that by ignoring it, I’m, on some level, accepting it. I’m fine by the way, but the next one is gonna be a bit dark. Sorry about that.