Peace, Love, and Turtles – Gili Air, Indonesia

May 2 – May 7

When I was in New Zealand for nine months, sometimes I just set out on a whim, traveling a long way or heading a certain direction just for one activity or to experience something small. Doing that now, here in Indonesia, seems so much more revolutionary because I don’t have a car. It’s one thing to pack up the car and drive five hours just to go on a certain hike. But it seems like another thing here.

But that’s what I did. I had one day before I needed to check out of my hostel in Ubud and no idea where to go next. I was chatting with another hostel guest, procrastinating on making a decision, when she told me that Gili Air is incredible. “So peaceful and you can snorkel with turtles.” With those words, I was sold.

It wasn’t a completely out of the blue decision. I had done a little bit of research on Bali and other nearby options and Gili Trawangan had been a question mark on my list. Mostly because it, too, has turtles. But Gili T is known as a party destination and you know that’s not my cup of tea. But Gili Air…turtles and peace? Let’s do it!

So I set it all up and was ready to go the next day. I catch a Grab taxi to a central meeting point in Ubud, which happened to be a supermarket. Thankfully, a few other people are waiting there so I feel reassured that I am in the right place. We commence with a 2 hour drive across Bali to Padang Bai Port, where we hope on a ferry boat and speed along to Gili T. Most people get off there, and a lot of people get on too. Sunburnt people talking about sleeping on a beach chair because they were too drunk to go home and how they did mushrooms with their hostel mates. I feel a surge of confidence in my decision to skip Gili T.

A few minutes later we arrive at Gili Air (to confuse people, the Indonesia word air actually means water), and I climb off the ferry boat. It was chilly on the ferry with the AC running, but once again it is a full face punch of heat and humidity. But I’m too busy staring at the water. Beneath my feet, beneath the planks of the dock, it is the brightest turquoise. A pale sandy beach runs in each direction and the most perfect shades of blue stretching away. To my right is the large island of Lombok with green hills and mountains. To the left is Gili Meno and Gili T. Ahead, the small town opens up with a path left, a path right, and one straight into the middle. There are no cars or gasoline scooters on any of the Gillis, just bikes and horse carts.

Checking in to my hostel, I am delighted by the pool, the grass roofs, and the big bamboo lodge where I will be staying. It has an open air second story, bamboo floors, mosquito nets, and hanging beds. The bungalows along the pools are adorable and the water looks so refreshing. Just unpacking my stuff results in sweat running down my face, my own private waterfalls. So I immediately put on my suit and jump in the pool.

I could have stayed for the rest of the afternoon, but I know all too well that sometimes if you put things off for later, you never get to do them. So I force myself out and take a walk around the island. It only takes about 90 minutes to walk the whole island, and I do it, but holy cow, it is hot.

Most of the walking is through sand, so it’s not easy walking.

The island is not large, but it is quite built up. Not with fancy buildings, but I mean that there are few empty spaces, few bits of natural jungle. All long the beach there is a restaurant or resort or hostel or hotel or dive center. Some places are well kept up, clean, and gorgeous looking. Some look very western in their design, others a mix, and some are traditional-looking warungs (restaurants) with bamboo walls and plastic chairs. Unlike Hindu Bali, this island doesn’t have the fascinating architecture and beautiful statues. But then again Gili Air is part of Lombok, which doesn’t have a Hindu past. Instead, Lombok and the rest of Indonesia (excluding Bali) are predominantly Muslim. Many of the women wear hijabs, but many do not. Later in my time on the island, I hear a foreigner describe Indonesians as “soft” Muslims. The people here strike me as incredibly accepting. I do not know if it is this area specifically, where there are a lot of foreigners, or if it is all of Indonesia. A traveler who studied abroad in Indonesia tells me that she thinks that the South East Asian influences are very strong here, making it very relaxed in terms of dress, practice, and acceptance.

I keep walking around the island. At one point, little girls in hijabs and bare feet yell hello and tell me that I’m “more beautiful.” I tell them they’re beautiful. When I ask their names, they tell me all at once so I can’t hear them and definitely can’t remember them. But when I ask their ages, they don’t understand, only having a few phrases of English.

The island seems to have a lot more infrastructure than people. Bars and beach chairs are barely full. I don’t know if is off season or off-time. It’s about 4:30 pm, so maybe everyone is back at their hotels showering for the evening. Nearly every establishment that I pass has an Indonesia man calling out, asking if I want a drink or wondering how I am doing. I stop at a snorkel stand when someone asks where I’m from. This is a typical sales technique. Instead of coming forward with the immediate offer, they try to trap you in conversation. And I’m a sucker. It feels so rude to ignore people and walk past them when they’re asking a friendly (if motivated) question. I always stop.

So I chat with the guy for a short while. I ask him some questions about snorkeling, the prices, and the best place to find turtles. Once he’s told me and makes me promise I’ll come back tomorrow and rent my gear from him (ok, I say. Maybe I will, maybe I won’t). The, he says we can go snorkeling together. “Maybe,” I agree, thinking that snorkeling solo is probably a bad idea so maybe going with someone, especially someone who knows exactly where to go, is a good idea. Then he wants to know where I’m staying and I tell him. He recommends a drink, tells me it’s good for health. I’m waiting for him to follow up with something like “I sell it” or “go to my friends restaurant.” But clearly I read the signs wrong because then he tells me the herb in the drink is also good for sex. 

I awkwardly laugh and say I’m going to keep walking. He calls after me, “We snorkel tomorrow, yes. Then go drink the tea.“ I awkwardly wave and keep going, thinking that now I’ll have to avoid this entire half of the island!

I find somewhere to sit around 5:30 and order a drink and watch the sun slowly set in the distance. I can see Mount Agung , Bali’s tallest volcano, in the distance. Sharp, wavelike clouds obscure the horizon.

The sunset takes ages, stretching for an impossibly long time. And it gets more beautiful as time passes, streaking orange against the blue sky and dark water. There are people, but they’re quiet. Reflective. No beach parties pound music into the air, no shouts crack the pace. I’m sitting alone and there’s no pressure to order another drink or talk to anyone or do anything other than silently watch the sky. The island is protected by coral reefs so despite the open sea just beyond, the waves that lap at the shore are so gentle, only a few inches, and they whisper along the sand. It is magical.

The next day I find a spot at the beach, lay in a lounger in front of a small restaurant and hotel. I’m not bothered the whole day. Not asked to pay for the lounger, not pestered to buy a drink or food. I relax beneath the shade of an umbrella (it’s too hot to be in the sun!). I rent some snorkel gear (not from the same guy I talked to the day before) and venture into the water several times.

When I rented the gear, I asked the woman where to go. She said that farther out is better, to the darker water where the boats go.

I look out at the water and see that it doesn’t get dark for over 100 meters, maybe more, as it’s hard to judge distance over water. Small boats–fishing boats, snorkel boats, ferry boats–run back and forth through the darker water and I can just imagine a long snorkeler out there with only their snorkel tube and butt cheeks visible above the water as all those boats go past. That doesn’t seem like a great idea.

But over the course of the morning I don’t spot any other young people who seem to be traveling solo. I’m still determined to look for turtles, so, when other people nearby go into the water to snorkel, I slip in too and just stick close to them without bothering them. As I get more and more comfortable in the water, and as I realize that it is so incredibly shallow, I swim further and further out. Even 80 meters from the beach I can stand in the sandy, seagrass covered bottom. Turtles eat seagrass, so I see how this would be an excellent environment for them. But I don’t find any turtles. I do spot a few bright fish and several sea stars. But each time I venture out I go further and further until I start panicking because (even though I can still touch the bottom) I am so far from the shore. The hotel my lounger is in front of looks like a tiny lego building.

So I return my snorkel gear around 3pm with some disappointment. I need to find a snorkel buddy so I can feel more confident in the water. So I go back to the hostel and lurk by the pool. Ok, really I just find another lounger and read my book while occasionally submerging myself into the pool so I can pretend the droplets on my temples are water and not sweat.

I chat with a few people, but none are solo travelers and they all have plans for the next day. I still have hope though. Later, I venture out at 5:30 to watch that evening’s stunning sunset show.

In the morning, at breakfast, I finally meet some other backpackers but they are leaving that morning. Somehow I had missed them entirely for the first day and a half. I feel stymied, and I need to start thinking about my next plan as I am already halfway through my planned stay on Gili Air, so I settle back by the pool and do some research.

After having figured out exactly nothing about what I want to do next (mostly because it’s not easy to get around Bali cheaply as a solo traveler and because a boat trip I am interested in turns out to have mixed reviews), a new traveler shows up. She’s just arrived and is looking for someone to snorkel with too. We ask the hostel owner about the best place to go and I get a different recommendation from where I went yesterday. Perfect.

We cross the island, rent gear, and plunge into the warm, clear water. Like yesterday, the bottom is covered in seagrass undulating with the waves. But, there are also small pieces of dead coral rustling around on the sea floor. It doesn’t take long until we’ve moved past the seagrass section and it’s starting to look more like the Great Barrier Reef. We swim among swarms of fish and columns of coral. I spot some divers in the distance.

We swim and swim and it’s incredible how much more confident I feel having another person with me, even though it’s someone I just met an hour ago. But we’re looking out for each other.

We circle through the area, following fish, heading deeper then shallower, eyes peeled. It’s beautiful, so many striped fish and parrot fish and a million more that I don’t know the names of. Then, the girl elbows me and points. I don’t see anything.

She elbows me again and suddenly the turtle is plain to see. It is so much bigger than I was expecting that I didn’t see it at first, which I know makes no sense.

It’s massive, though it’s hard to say how massive as water magnifies objects. Just much, much bigger than I thought it would be. It swims along the ocean floor, lazily moving it’s flippers and gliding forward as though flying. It certainly sees us, turning big eyes toward us and then adjusting it’s course, but it’s remarkably unconcerned by our presence. I take photos and swim closer. But I remember being told at the Great Barrier Reef to always stay a minimum of 3 meters away and never get between the turtle and the surface, since they have to surface to breath quite often.

We stay with the turtle for at least 10 minutes, occasionally poing our heads out of the water and exclaiming about how amazing this is.

Then, we decide we’ve bothered this turtle enough and slowly swim away. After a few more minutes, the other girl is ready to go in, so we swim back to shore where we dry off a bit and continue talking about the turtle.

There’s about an hour and a half until sunset (which can’t be missed). The other girl is done snorkeling, but I head back into the water for 20 more minutes. And I find three more turtles right near the shore! I think they tend to feed most often at dawn and dusk, so the approaching sunset maybe drew them closer in. They are a different kind of turtle than the first one I saw, and that one was also the largest, but it is indescribably incredible to be slowly swimming along and spot a turtle ahead of you skimming gracefully through the water. They move so effortlessly with their flippers, gliding upward to surface and then floating back down to the sea floor.

The sunset is less dramatic tonight, but the soft pastel glow is so serene, the island so quiet as the world holds it’s breath.

I get dinner with my new friend and another solo female traveler staying at the hostel.

The next day is equally relaxing and I spend more time with both girls. Lunch, pool, beach, sunset, dinner. It’s a good life. It’s so easy being here, so peaceful and uncomplicated and absolutely serene.

But I know that if I extend my time here, I will get lost among the peace. So it’s time to move on, to make a plan. But I know I’ve found my paradise, and every beach vacation from now on will be compared to Gili Air.

Turtles. Coral Reefs. Peace. Smoothies. Sunsets. Smiles.