Honeymoon, Part 2

The day before we planned to leave Balian, Mark and I had a sudden thought – sure, we’d arranged for a car to take us from Balian to Benoa Harbour, and a ferry to take us from Bali to Gili Trawangan – but how would we get from the ferry to our hotel? We sent an email and had our reply in a few minutes – ‘Just hop on a horse cart and tell them to take you to Hasan’s place!’

          

Mark and I looked at each other and laughed – a horse cart?! But we were game, and at 5AM the next morning we wheeled our suitcases up the dirt road and waited for our car. The people at Pondok Pisces were so worried about us that they had someone wake up to keep us company, and when our car ran late they sent another person out to the main road to help the driver in case he was lost (he was). It was just another kindness out of many that made Mark and I so affectionate toward Pondok Pisces and Balian Beach – and made us promise, again, to return one day.

           

The car ride was insane – because the driver was late to pick us up, he didn’t want us to miss the ferry – and included higher speeds and running a few red lights. But we made it to the ferry along with a few dozen other passengers (including a gigantic Australian family who had kindly equipped all of their children with Bongo drums which made for a particularly noisy trip) and took off for Lombok and Gili Trawangan.

Dewi and and her husband Hasan own and run Gili Hideaway, the next stop on our journey. They had come highly recommended by a good friend who had lived in Indonesia and knew Dewi from their work with an NGO in Jakarta, and so we had been very excited to arrive and get an insider’s advice for things to do and see.

             

We disembarked from our horsecart and wandered into… the incorrect entrance to the hotel, waking up an off-duty gardener. But once the confusion had settled, we found ourselves in a little piece of paradise.

Immediately, Sam, on the hotel staff and an awesome help each day, set off to get us rental bikes for the duration of our stay. We were shown to our bungalow, which was adorned with a variety of handmade reed and flower decorations – the gardener had made them all himself, in honor of our honeymoon.

We immediately set off to explore the island, and decided to bike the perimeter. We made it about ¼ of the way before finding ourselves in deep, soft, unbikeable sand – so after a brief dip in the turquoise water, we turned back and grabbed a few refreshments.

There was a lot that we loved about Gili, not least the amazing food we ate or the views we had, but my favourite was the SCUBA diving. It was something I’d always desperately wanted to do, but was afraid that I wasn’t a strong enough swimmer, or that I would become claustrophobic. But after hearing one person after another extol their amazing experiences under the water, I knew we needed to do it. We confirmed our reservations with Big Bubble that afternoon, and brought our books home for a bit of poolside studying.

I don’t know how it happened, but by virtue of our off-season visit and our Tuesday start to classes, Mark and I enjoyed private tutoring for our Open Water dive course. We woke each morning to the sound of a few confused roosters crowing before the sun rose, and Mark would go for a run while I showered. Once we were both dressed, we’d emerge for strong coffee and omelettes or banana pancakes, then pack our backpacks and climb on our bikes to head to school. We had a brief instruction by a rather stern French man (and the complete stereotype from every Carribean SCUBA diver you’ve ever seen in a movie), but then switched to Andy, a Birmingham-born instructor, and Jin, our trainee instructor. This basically meant one-on-one attention in our pool sessions and under the water, and we had a completely relaxed and amazing time. We joked and laughed during the practice sessions, but I was almost hyperventilating as we took the boat for our first dive, that first afternoon. After a bit of a panicked descent (I tried to equalize my ears but ended up getting water in my goggles), I calmed down and looked around.

It was like being in a BBC documentary – but better than anything I’d ever seen in HD.

These photos are from some snorkelling we did (right off the beach from our bungalow), but it captures a bit of what we saw. We couldn’t take the camera with us to the depths we dove (12 and 18 meters, a total of 4 dives), and so you’re missing some of the more spectacular coral formations, giant turtles, and myriad fish and sights we glimpsed… I think both Mark and I were amazed at how much we enjoyed ourselves, and we would talk about each dive and plan for the next day at each meal. We slept hard, exhausted from the exercise and homework, but woke each morning excited for what we would see beneath the waves.

         

Additionally, diving has given us a renewed appreciation for ‘insider lingo,’ and we try to incorporate as many of our dive ‘signs’ as we can in normal conversation. It’s easier than you might think…

(also, for those non-strong swimmers out there, I did manage to pass my swimming test, although it was slow, alone, in the rain, while being watched solemnly by a large crew of hard-drinking German tourists)

        

Evenings were spent over leisurely meals and dark bike rides home across dirt paths and through deep puddles (there was a bit of rain while we were there). We would take a late-night dip in the pool, play a bit of cribbage or, once he grew more comfortable with us, get tutored in dinosaur facts by Dewi and Hasan's adorable four year-old son, Alfie, before crawling into bed. 

Our last day we puzzled over what to do. The sands of the coral island weren’t too amenable to simply staking out a spot with a blanket, and we could only wade about 15m before encountering living reefs (at about knee-depth), so we decided to bike up island. There, we spotted a barely inhabited resort with a pretty spectacular deck and a great selection of reasonably priced beverages.

What else could we ask for on the best honeymoon I could have ever imagined?

The next morning was a bit harried, due to some confusion about payment (we forgot the hotel couldn’t accept credit cards), resulting in a mad dash by Mark to the island's only ATM, and probably some reluctance to move on to our next spot. But on the ferry ride back to the mainland, Mark grabbed my hand and squeezed it a few times. I think we’ll be back.