Once dubbed the Ibiza of Indonesia, Gili Trawangan is a Mecca for the hedonistic traveller type; a particular sect of people who worship wild nights in a paradise island setting. Rested and revived from our time in Ubud we found ourselves firmly in this category, pushing our way through the swarms of people at Padang bai, impatient to board a fast boat to the tiny island of dreams.

 

With our first boat journey came the dispelling of the Indonesian ‘fast’ boat myth, one cultivated through the homogenous tourist stalls that line the streets of Bali’s big towns, all promising a quick and painless transfer to the islands. What really happens however is a process more similar to cattle rearing, with foreigners herded roughly in the direction of the port and plenty of yelling and confusion towards any strays. The best, and only, way to deal with this is to readjust your settings to ‘Bali Time’, knowing that as the clock slowly ticks away you’ll still find yourself at your intended destination, eventually.

 

We arrived in Gili Trawangan to the only room in walking distance that cost below £10 a night, having already foregone any notion of luxury on the premise that our accommodation would serve merely as a base to catch a few hours sleep, if any at all.In spirit of this, we headed straight out to watch the sunset on the north side of the island, where the impressive gradation of colour brings the horizon to life, and queues of people form behind the beach’s four wooden swings, waiting to capture the perfect shot of their sunset sharpened silhouette.

A few hours later we were to observe a totally different kind of vibrancy, that of the commotion of Gili T’s party strip. More casual than the strips of Europe’s party hubs, the open layout makes for a culture of bar surfing, of drifting in and out of bars, surrendering to the eb and flow of clubbers who move somewhat organically from each one to the next. With no one to question, let alone care, why you haven’t bought a drink at each venue, the number of bars visited will rack up quickly, the trajectory of the night spiraling from Evolution for beer pong, to Sama Sama for reggae before ending on some techno in Space Bar.

Just as eclectic is the older traveller crowd, making for much more stimulating drunken conversation than the average language of shots and sex spoken in Malia or Magaluf. Verbal competitions take place in the early hours, usually long Island Iced Tea impassioned, as to who swam in the clearest lagoon in the Philippines, climbed the highest volcano in Java or stumbled the most traditional wedding ceremony in Lombok. Pretentious? Perhaps, but your very own walking-talking travel guide proves far more enigmatic than any Lonely Planet book.

Like most party destinations however, the happy-go-lucky tourist attitude can strike a discord with the local culture, and at times this clash with the island’s deep-rooted Muslim values feels uncomfortable, verging on irreverent. Against the island’s rustic backdrop, of the pattering sounds of horse and carts and smoky smells of burning wood, the faded ‘no bikinis in the streets’ signs really do jut out. The contrast is reflected in the eyes of some the older locals, whose shrouded looks from their doorways only half conceal their disapproval. Although, this does seem to be changing, the island’s conservatism slowly chipped away at with the birth of each new generation. The young bartenders and servers exude a certain coolness, an edge depicted not just in their many tattoos and piercings, but in the way all drinks served with a helping of banter, usually involving a sketchy cockney accent. Lounging on a beanbag at a hostel bar, you begin to forget where you are, the sounds from the call to prayer only just creeping in amongst the heavy jungle beats.

If culture is not an absolute priority for you, which for many seeking to party it’s usually not, then you won’t find fault in Gili Trawangan. A comparison to Ibiza may be a bit of an overshoot, the venues not so bohemian and the clientele not so wealthy, but its great for a few nights of reckless, no frills fun.
** You may notice a distinct lack of pictures from this post, but you would probably rather not see the blurry blue-lit relics from my nights out.