Gili Islands

The Gilis were uninhabited for most of their history — three low coral islands with almost no fresh surface water, covered in mangrove and used by Bugis fishermen from South Sulawesi as a stop on their voyages through the archipelago. Permanent settlement began only in the 1970s: in 1971 the governor of Lombok granted land rights to private companies to plant coconut, and some 350 prisoners from the overcrowded jail in Mataram were sent to bring in the first harvests between 1974 and 1979, many of them staying on as settlers. The islands had passed under Balinese and then Dutch control along with the rest of Lombok, but remained a marginal outpost of its coast.

Tourism began in the 1980s, when backpackers travelling on from Bali found cheap bungalows and empty reefs. Trawangan developed fastest, first as a place of simple huts and parties, later with dive schools, resorts and beach clubs; Air and Meno followed more slowly and stayed quieter. Growth brought disputes over land and building on what had been village coconut plots, and the fresh water and waste problems of small islands carrying far more people than they were ever built for.

Two events shaped the recent past. A particularly warm El Niño and unsustainable local fishing methods damaged the reefs, and in 2000 the Gili Eco Trust was founded to protect and restore the coral, improve waste management and teach conservation, work that has since included artificial reef structures in the shallows. Then, in August 2018, a series of earthquakes struck northern Lombok, killing hundreds on the mainland; the Gilis escaped the worst of the damage but were left with wrecked buildings and many injured. The islands rebuilt, only to face the closure of Indonesia's borders during the Covid-19 pandemic, when tourism stopped entirely and many workers returned to Lombok.

The permanent population is mostly Sasak and Bugis, Muslim, and clustered in villages set back from the beach strips — an arrangement that gives each island two distinct atmospheres. On the seafront there are dive shops, bars and sunset crowds; two hundred metres inland there are mosques, small shops, schools and houses where the call to prayer sets the rhythm of the day. Ramadan is observed, and Eid al-Fitr brings families back from work elsewhere.

The cidomo, a small horse-drawn cart with car wheels, is the one piece of local transport and a subject of long-running argument between animal-welfare campaigners and the families whose income depends on it. Much of the islands' working population commutes from Lombok by boat, and a floating community of foreign dive instructors, bar managers and long-stay visitors has grown up alongside them.

Visitors are expected to make the distinction between the beach and the village: swimwear and bare chests belong on the sand, covered shoulders and knees in the lanes. Alcohol is served freely on the tourist strips, but public drunkenness away from them causes offence. Drugs have long been sold openly on the islands, although they carry severe penalties in Indonesia, and Trawangan is the only one of the three with an active police presence.

Around 3,800 people live permanently across the three islands — roughly 1,800 on Gili Air, 1,500 on Gili Trawangan and 500 on Gili Meno. Nearly every household depends on visitors: dive centres, bungalows, restaurants, boat crews, construction, laundry and cidomo driving. Fishing continues on a small scale, and coconut groves survive between the guesthouses, but the agricultural economy is largely gone.

Living on small coral islands sets the daily problems. Fresh water is limited: Gili Air is the only one of the three with subterranean fresh water, Gili Meno has been supplied by undersea pipe from Lombok since 2017, and resorts and restaurants elsewhere ship water in; electricity arrives by undersea cable from Lombok; and rubbish must be shipped out or dealt with on the islands, which is a visible strain in the high season. Building has spread across land that villages once farmed, and land prices and ownership disputes are a recurring subject.

The day runs early: prayer before dawn, boats to Bangsal with produce and workers, dive trips leaving mid-morning, a hot and quiet afternoon, then the beachfront filling for sunset. Trawangan stays up late on the east strip; Meno and Air are dark and quiet by mid-evening. When the wind turns in the wet season, crossings are cancelled and the islands empty, which is when maintenance, building and family visits to Lombok happen.

Everyday food is Lombok food. Ayam taliwang, grilled chicken rubbed and basted with a fierce paste of chilli, shrimp paste and lime, is the Sasak dish the island is proudest of, usually served with plecing kangkung, water spinach blanched and served cold with a sambal of chilli, shallot, garlic and shrimp paste, bean sprouts and grated coconut. Nasi campur — rice with a spoonful each of vegetables, tempeh, fish and sambal — is the standard cheap plate, and sate pusut, minced meat or fish with grated coconut and spices wrapped around lemongrass stalks, is the Lombok version of satay.

Fish dominates, as it should on islands this size. Tuna, snapper, mahi-mahi and squid are grilled over coconut husk with sambal and lime, and the night market on Trawangan lays out the day's catch on ice to be chosen and cooked to order with rice and vegetables. Sambal is taken seriously on Lombok, and warung sambal is hotter than most visitors expect.

The beachfront strips add the international layer found in every Indonesian beach resort: pizza, burgers, poke bowls, espresso and smoothie bowls, which suit long stays and diving appetites. Fresh coconut, tropical juices and kopi tubruk, coffee grounds brewed in the glass, are the everyday drinks. Alcohol is widely sold to visitors, but spirits from unlabelled bottles are a genuine hazard in Indonesia and are best avoided everywhere on the islands.