The Rest Is Yet to Come: Gili Trawangan

Now that we've had a satisfying taste of the Philippines, it's time to press on. The date is August 11th, and we have a week until our flight departs from Bali. We figure we'll check out a place or two in between, squeezing out any remaining drops of travel before it comes to an end.

Sometimes those inevitable changes are pressed right up against my face, and other times they are distant. As a result, my moods are subject to extreme flux. I don't necessarily mean I lash out angrily, but my moodiness is apt to close me off to the moment. It's difficult to release my attention from not only trivial, far away realities, things I have no control over anyway, but also the numerous fantasies of what might life be like. Then I will suddenly come back to the moment, this big thing pulsating in front of me, only to realize that I'm frequently disengaged from the present. It's not inherently bad, just distracting. I am a slave to my mind. It's all I have to understand things, but it is prone to capricious wanderings.

We arrive in Manila for the billionth (fourth) time, cutting a bit close as we jump terminals to catch our flight to Jakarta. A miscommunication takes us to the incorrect terminal, and we almost got ripped off by a cab driver on the way to the correct one. Our urgency wasn't difficult to detect, but it sucks when people try to take advantage of that. The short story is that he turned off his meter and tried to charge us 40 or so dollars for a ride that should cost less than three. The beginning of the ride was fine, but suddenly his English deteriorated as he tried to confuse us into overpaying. Fortunately I am traveling with Nicole, and that shit will not fly. We pay him what we estimate to be correct and just leave as quickly as we can.

We spend the night in the Jakarta airport, catching a little sleep here and there before our 5am flight to Lombok. We then catch a bus to the northwest corner of the island and hop on a boat to the Gili islands.

Gili Trawangan is one of three very small islands just a few kilometers from the mainland. Well, if you can even say Indonesia has a mainland. From where we flew in, then.

The Gilis are too small to accommodate vehicles, instead using horse drawn carts as the primary mode of transport, as well as for development. As expected, the port side of the island is a tourist epicenter, but the interior offers a respite from the bustle dodging cyclists and horses. This plays feels like a video game at times. I take a walk around the island on the following day while Nicole is off scuba diving. It is pleasantly isolated at times, with the occasional jogger going in the other direction. I've gotta hand it to these people who manage to keep their exercise routines while on vacation. The brick path are broken down and jagged, giving way to loosely packed sand, making things more conducive to a casual stroll. Or that's what I tell myself. I tell myself a lot of things. I don't usually believe the lies, but I wonder what might be sneaking under the radar, my watchful (although often distracted) gaze of self awareness that I seem to be so fond of.

During the afternoon, Nicole and I go out snorkeling with our new friend, Chris. The conditions are not so nice, but we endure the choppy water and float around for a while, enjoying the little scene of ocean life below. It seems that the coral reef in this area is dying rapidly, lending itself to a feeling of desolation and emptiness. Some life still seems to go on in a few patches near the shelf, but large sections of shore were simply void of any (visible) life. Chris gets bored pretty quickly, opting to head back to land, but for some reason I found this small wasteland captivating. I lose track of Nicole now and again but we would occasionally acknowledge each other before going back to our own thoughts. Most rational adults would agree that this particular site is below average in terms of breathtaking beauty, but I don't mind paying it just a little more attention. I just float, letting the thoughts sink in. My mind can wander down any avenue (or deep sea channel, if you're feeling fancy), vacillating between any attitude or opinion about the picture beneath me. I could take a misanthropic route, pursuing how humanity's presence might be altering the ocean life in myriad ways. But it may not be just that, and adopting such a simplistic view might sever any chance for understanding other possibilities. My mind considers that this extinction might just be inevitable. The effects, of course, would be disastrous to many other organisms. We all depend on each other in a seemingly precarious balance. The ocean was at one time the only metaphorical solar panel for planet Earth, the cradle of life. Without photosynthetic plankton to absorb the Sun's light, I likely wouldn't even be here to reflect on how this whole thing around us seems to be caused by chance. It could just as easily be like any other lifeless planet. So watching the coral die slowly doesn't necessarily leave me feeling forlorn. Perhaps I just like to imagine what it would all be like without us, if it all simply ceased— and how long it would take for those little bony, teeth-like fragments to get recycled into minerals, to return to the precursors.

Ultimately, it doesn't matter what I think, so I like to imagine as many outcomes, positions, reasons as I can, no matter how absurd or misinformed—whatever I'd like. I won't run off and teach all of these insane thoughts to people as fact, though I will certainly refer people to those wise scientists out there who are piecing together elaborate pictures of the universe.

They're my personal perspectives, and I make them mine by infusing a bit of fantasy.

Surfacing from the tiny ocean abyss, Nicole and I begin to circumnavigate little Gili Trawangan. We don't make it very far before being captivated by the immense and clear night sky. Far from any cities, the faint light of many stars, previously unseen, makes its way through our atmosphere and into our eyes. It's times like this when I wish I had perfect vision, yet I imagine those with eagle eyes still wish they could see more. It's never enough. We continue to push those edges of perception.

Less than one week of this fantasy remains. That's the thought that won't go away, a frequent reminder that our time, and time together, is finite. You only get so many night skies.

Our new friend keeps us company during our overnight at Jakarta airport. Cats seem to love my body odor (my reeking backpack), so I think I'm consigned to surround myself with feline companions in my later years.