There are some trips that I go on and have an absolute time of my life. And then there are certain trips that I go on that changes the way I think about life. To say Gili checked both boxes would be more than fitting. On an island where bicycles and horses are the only forms of transport, it was a reminder, perhaps, that even in this ridiculously fast paced society we thrive in today, that there will always be room for simplicity, for something organic and real. Of course, the grass is always greener. The alleyways could have been better paved. The repeated questions of whether I wanted mushrooms could have been scaled down. But it’s not everyday that you wake up to roosters crowing in the distance or the local village kid manually carrying a sack of rice to his tiny Warung down the street. Most of the 4 days spent there was with my mates watching the sunset over a bonfire or on a boat, cycling round the island and chaffing with the locals. I would like to coin it as an authentic way of living. A gentle walk down memory lane. That at the end of the day, looking past all the parties and drugs rampant round the island, there is always something to take home. That sometimes, the greatest things in life barely seeks attention. It never calls out for you. It simply waits for you to find it. And lucky for me, I found a piece of it on this island.
