Two Kutas and Three Gilis

“I wouldn’t go to Gili Trawangan,” says the guy who’s just showed up at our guesthouse. “It’s like Kuta in Bali. And you can’t get more than ten metres down the main street without someone trying to sell you mushrooms… Well, maybe not you…”

“I don’t know,” I say. “In Phnom Penh, none of the weed dealers seemed particularly bothered I had Z with me.”

In Phnom Penh, in fact, they were verging on persistent. One guy tried three times to sell me weed in the space of an evening. And, walking the streets at night, even with Z in tow, I’d get a couple of offers every two hundred yards.

I am, to be honest, kind of dubious about the Gilis. Three low-lying, tear drop shaped islands off the north-west coast of Lombok, not that far from Bali, they repeatedly make lists of world’s best destinations – they were one of Lonely Planet’s top picks last year.

I’ve heard they are touristy. Know they are, for the area, expensive. And they are also a significant detour away from our ultimate destination, Papua.

But Z is not to be moved.

“Look,” I say. “I’m not sure we really need to go to the Gilis. Particularly with Sumbawa coming up, it feels like all we’re going to be doing for the next fortnight is slobbing around on beaches.”

“And what, exactly,” quoth he. “Is wrong with that?”

“Err,” I begin . . .

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We’d stayed longer than I’d intended in Kuta, the little idyll in southern Lombok that couldn’t be more different from its namesake in southern Bali if you paid it.

Kuta, Bali, is rapidly becoming a textbook example of over-development. Package tourists from Australia, in particular, though you’ll find them from all over the world, are funneled through its traffic-clogged streets and eroding beaches at a rate of knots. Often drunk, on motorbikes, and wearing Viking helmets.

If you exclude the tat for sale in the tourist arcades and the offerings still lovingly placed in the shops and stores, there is nary a sign of Bali’s unique culture. You could be in any tropical resort area, in Kuta, Bali, which has all the authenticity of Cancun, Mexico.

It does have some things going for it, of course. The Waterbom water park. And its proximity to the slick beachside luxury and genuinely beautiful spaces of Seminyak beachfront.

Kuta, Lombok? It’s only one island along, but a world away. Cows and goats still wander the beaches, and at weekends the local Sasaks celebrate weddings and festivals in their unique take on Islam, Waktu Telu.

Drive the atrocious road that winds east over a series of headlands, through traditional villages and farmland where buffalo wallow, and flawless bay after flawless bay opens up before you, vast expanses of beaches that you can sometimes have entirely to yourself, where local kids teach themselves to surf on boards and driftwood.

Did we learn to surf? Not entirely. It’s not a skill you master in a day, or even a couple of days.

But we got our skills up to a level where we felt we could brave what we’d heard was a great beginner’s wave that broke right on a beach in West Sumbawa, the next big island across from Lombok.

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Now, Paris Hilton is not someone I usually turn to for reference. But she memorably said of Vegas that “The thing about Vegas is it gets old after two days.”

And, at least for us, the Gilis did too. Though I’m not sure whether it’s the islands that are spoilt, or us.

In fairness, if you had a big pile of books and a week or two’s holiday in which to recharge depleted batteries, you could very happily spend it here, in one of any number of Sasak-themed bungalows with tall thatched rooves and floaty white nets draped around day and night beds.

And, obviously, if you’re after shrooms, Gili T is as good a place as any to get high on the beach.

But all three of the islands –- Gili Trawangan, Gili Air and Gili Meno –- are tiny. You can walk all around Gili Air, where we stayed, in an hour or less, and every single stretch of beach is backed by a nearly identical set of bamboo stilt pagodas or lounge chairs.

Although you still can see cows grazing in the coconut groves and men mending their boats around the far side of the island, there’s very little sign of the indigenous culture left, because tourism is the islands’ main industry.

Cutely, there is no motorized transport on the islands. Less cutely, we are routinely assailed by horse carts offering wildly over-priced rides along the dirt paths around the island. And touts for both restaurants and hotels are almost as active as the vendors of bracelets and shoddily made sarongs.

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What surprised us most about the islands of the lotus eaters?

Well, the Gilis are touted as a dive destination. And there is a great deal of marine life here, from turtles through to seahorses and enormous puffer fish, though manta rays pass through only a couple of times a year.

But the coral is, honestly, not in the best condition. There’s damage from dynamite fishing. And, apparently, bleaching, too. Which makes snorkelling in the currents between the to-ing and fro-ing boats less rewarding than it might be. At least not compared to Pulau Derawan or north Maluku.

And the food, too. I’d kind of figured that with a tourist density higher than Bali’s and accommodation prices higher than Bali’s, there would be some serious restaurants.

Yes, you can enjoy grilled fish of a zillion species in any one of a number of beachfront places. And, yes, you can drink cocktails based on imported spirits, and enjoy foods branded as organic.

But international class restaurants these are not. And what the land of the lotus eaters really needs is lotuses to eat…

And, as we head out on the little boat from Gili Air to the mainland, where our bike awaits us, we are, frankly, quite ready to leave Lombok behind for fresh adventures.