Travel to Bali and the Gili Islands – arriving into a culture shock in Bali
After eight months backpacking through Western, English‑speaking countries, I’d gotten pretty comfortable. Maybe too comfortable. I knew how things worked and could navigate my way around without looking foolish.
Then I landed in Bali. And all of that disappeared in an instant.
On the flight from Darwin to Denpasar I met two English lads — Craig and Richard. Richard had been to Bali before, which turned out to be a blessing when we stepped outside the airport, my senses assaulted, as he haggled an aggressive taxi driver down by about 500%. I’d never haggled in my life. I was going to need to learn fast.
As we headed into Kuta, my senses continued to be challenged – the smell of street food, the noise of tooting horns, the insanity of the driving and the intense humidity. I was a little overwhelmed.
Kuta: Culture Shock, Cheap Beer and a Crossbow
We checked into a guesthouse in Kuta that was, let’s say, pretty grim. But I did get a bungalow all to myself – two double beds with mattresses roughly the thickness of a tortilla, a squat toilet, and a shower that produced a cold dribble of water if you asked politely. For £2 a night including breakfast, I felt right at home.
Dinner only reinforced that feeling. Six massive bottles of beer and a club sandwich with chips each — total bill: £7.
I was starting to think Bali might be the greatest place on Earth.
Kuta itself, though… well, it was a bit of a dive. Noisy, chaotic, and relentless.
Walking down the main strip was a challenge, avoiding taxi drivers and street vendors wanting to sell anything and everything.
On the beach, I couldn’t even nap. An elderly woman grabbed my feet mid‑snooze to show me a crossbow and a hand‑carved chessboard the size of a coffee table. I’m not sure what she thought a backpacker was going to do with either of those, but I had to admire her persistence but declined with a firm “no thanks”.
The nightlife was decent, centred around the legendary Paddy’s Bar and Sari Club — two names that would later become tragically famous exactly a year later.
A day trip out of Kuta reminded me why Bali has the reputation it does. Away from the resort madness, the island is genuinely stunning, with lush rain forests, towering volcanoes, sweeping beaches, and rice fields worked entirely by hand under a brutal sun. Locals going about their lives with zero interest in selling you a crossbow. Bliss.
The Gili Islands: Paradise Found (and a Chicken I Still Feel Bad About)
Getting to the Gili Islands required first getting to the next-door island of Lombok, which is a short hop across the strait that you can practically see from Bali.
The ancient, overcrowded ferry had other ideas and took five and a half hours to complete what should have been a simple crossing. It was so hot the paint on the deck melted onto my shorts, leaving me looking like I’d had a rough day on a building site.
Indonesia has a colourful history with ferry disasters, so I was genuinely relieved when we finally docked.
A traditional wooden longtail boat then took me to Gili Trawangan — the largest and liveliest of the three Gili Islands.
The moment the boat pulled up to shore, I understood why people made the effort. The water was absurdly clear. Turquoise, perfect, postcard stuff. White sand beaches. Lombok’s volcanoes looming in the distance.
Trawangan is tiny, about 3km by 2km, walkable in under an hour. No roads, no vehicles.
Just a strip of bars and restaurants, some cheap bungalows tucked behind the beach, and that ridiculously clear water. The island also claims to be the smallest island in the world with an Irish bar, which technically checks out, although there wasn’t an Irishman or a Guinness in sight. Not very Irish, really.
I found a place for just over £1 per night with breakfast pancakes included.
I settled in with a group of Swedes who seemed to have colonised the island. Days were for the beach. Evenings were for fresh‑caught fish, cheap Bintangs, and dancing until the sun rose.
One evening I ordered chicken for dinner. The waiter returned ten minutes later – “sorry Sir, your chicken will be a little longer, we are just catching it”.
An hour later, a very recently living chicken arrived on my plate in a creamy sauce. I contemplated whether I should seriously consider becoming vegetarian. Maybe one day.
Getting to Gili Meno and Gili Air
I spent a night each on the other two islands: Gili Meno and Gili Air.
Meno was almost entirely deserted: a handful of rustic bungalows, one place to eat, beaches full of broken coral, and electricity only until dark. True escapism, although one night was plenty.
Gili Air was marginally busier but still wonderfully quiet. I spent my evening in a hammock on the veranda, drinking Bintangs and watching geckos hunt mosquitos in the rafters. I cheered them on in awe.
After a week on the islands, it was time to drag myself back to the chaos of Kuta to prepare for the next leg – onto Singapore.
Read more of our travel adventures around the world over decades here.
