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The boat ride back to Bali from the Gili Islands was one of the worst experiences of my life. To be clear, I come from an island nation (NZ) and am no stranger to ferries, water-taxis, even jet-boats. Shortly before my trip to Indonesia, there had been a couple of nasty boat accidents in the area, resulting in tourists stranded or drowned, and I suppose that was in my mind, which didn’t help this dreadful day. The sole criticism I have for our wonderful tour leader Sandi is that he didn’t impress on us what this boat trip was going to be like.
We boarded the upper deck of the boat, rather than the cabin below, thinking to enjoy the breeze and a last view of the islands. Sandi warned us that we would get wet, which we gaily accepted, thinking he meant a bit of sea spray. However, not long after we left shore, the boat was flying at incredible speed and waves were literally crashing over us, threatening to knock us overboard – a fate which, at that speed, would surely have been fatal. The only railing around the deck was shin-height, and we clung to this on our hands and knees as we struggled to make our way against the whipping wind to reach the ladder at the rear of the boat. My bag containing my camera and other belongings was with me, and completely saturated. One at a time, gasping for panicked breaths, we made our way down the ladder to the shelter below.
We landed in a sodden pile on the lower deck, to the bemusement of the passengers who had wisely taken seats in the cabin from the beginning. I found a seat next to my lovely room-mate Claire, but the worst of the trip was not yet over. Due to the ridiculous speed at which the captain held the boat, we flew upwards on each wave crest and thumped down a few seconds later with such great violence that I was sure the hull would fracture any second and we would all go to a watery grave. There was no land in sight, and for the first time in my life I pulled out the lifejacket from under my seat, in order to stand a chance of survival in the open ocean. Clutching this (and Claire’s hand), tears rolled down my cheeks as I prepared to meet my end. To add insult to injury, the onboard playlist consisted of Kenny Rogers and Bryan Adams.
Ok, this all probably sounds very melodramatic, but I assure you it was SHIT SCARY. I strongly recommend anyone travelling by boat in Indonesia NOT to take the high-speed option.
I had a huge wash of relief when Bali was visible at last, and even more when the captain slowed down his death-vessel for the harbour. The rest of the day I remained pretty grim and shaken…you know something is bad when a Kiwi can’t laugh it off with a “She’ll be right, mate. No worries!”.
Back in Bali, we stayed at the same hotel in Sanur in which we met our group for the first time. We had our final dinner as a group at a European restaurant a short drive away – I had a snapper steak on creamy fettucine.
The next day, people started to drift off to the airport at various times. I was lucky enough to have a little extra time with some friends who didn’t fly out until the evening, and we went for a walk from the hotel down to Sanur beach.

A protest poster. The Indonesian government had promised to protect the mangrove forests in the area, but reneged on that promise in order to build a bridge.
After our walk, we headed back to the hotel to lounge by the pool one last time.

This is a yoghurt-milk drink which was really delicious. I eat a lot of yoghurt at home, and this was the closest I could find in Bali.
When my companions departed in the late afternoon, I checked out and made my way by taxi to my next hotel, in Kuta. I had been warned by all my NZ friends who had been to Bali before me to avoid Kuta. For this reason, naturally I had to check it out myself. And they were right, it is a ghastly place, completely out of touch with the rest of Bali and colonised by Australians. Basically, I imagine the kind of people who holiday in Kuta want to say they’ve travelled, but don’t really want to go to Asia and aren’t willing to do without any of the conveniences of home.
My rather poor impression of Kuta wasn’t helped when my room-service pizza for dinner took 2 hours to arrive. I had a quiet evening in, watching Man of Steel and killing the mosquitos inhabiting my room.