The Next morning we were wholly disenchanted with the Gili Islands. I felt bad for poor Becca who felt she had somehow mislead me to a subpar destination. I couldn't have blamed her less, its hard to know who to trust on travel advice.
Often times one thinks they meet someone rational and reasonable.. and this person has the definition of travel that goes something like "Well thats a perfect beach.. and so chilled out.. but thats ALSO a MORE PERFECTER beach thats also soooo chilled out.." and so on. We had been told left and right that the Gili islands, free of all motor traffic were the perfect locale.. something to see. What there was, were some fairly poor people who had to carry from boats all the necessaries to support the tourism industry on these tiny islands ... and lived solely on the leisure of tanning white flesh dotted amongst brand new vacation houses of wealthy foriengers. I was uncomfortable.
We decided to remedy the mistake of not pushing ahead to Flores by going for some snorkelling. We pushed off on a traditional rickety boat with three British doctors doing their residency in Bali (all stunning young women) vacationing on Gili Tarajan (the party island - no cars...no cops). The snorkelling trip consisted of three desitinations, a boat operater and a guide.. in the form of a small 13-14 year old boy who swam like a fish. We all paddled along the reef .. riding the strong currents in all our ridiculous snorkel gear while the little maverick dodged around giant sea turtles and swam under water with schools of neon fish for inhuman periods of time.
By the time we'd seen a giant ship wreck under water, the Gili Wall, and several reefs we dropped the doctors off and were allowed to sit on the top of the boat. (Not so much meant for sitting). We held on as the boat quite literally tossed itself amongst huge waves crossing a channel to return us to Meno... It was a dangerous and most glorious sensation and I relished in getting to share it.
Upon our return we began to notice large red patches on each other's bodies... perhaps I had taken Becca's golden hue far too much to heart.. so much I failed to wear ANY sun block while we floated for several hours on our stomachs through salt water... But we paid it no mind and went through with our orginal intentions to find a massage on the beach after a hard day of ...floating?
Well we did not so much experience a massage as... extreme exfoliation... like all of our skin. The women who give massages on Gili Meno are.. hardened Gili women. Calused hands after a lifetime of using them.. they lie you down .. in the sand.. to add an extra layer of nature's greatest skin removal product to the experience. All of this on top of what was becoming more and more apparent were BLISTERING sun burn we had both recieved. Tears were pouring down our face as we tried not to offend the massage givers.. and said goodbye to several important layers of healing dermis....we limped laughing to stop the crying alll the way back to our hut. Getting naked and photoing each other's EXTREMELY tomato red backsides we laughed for about forty five minutes while we tried to take the most gentle showers ever. Clothing ourselves was even harder... and I insisted we attempt to eat food although I'm quite positive Becca would have gratefully never moved from that bed.. at least not until the seven year period in which the human body renews all its cells ..had fully finished a cycle.
We ordered pizza and I couldnt even attempt to make nice to the waiter that still very much wanted to be in my company... when King Leo arrived. His arrival is hard to describe in a way that will be... anywhere near as amusing as the time spent with him and his courtiers.. but I can try...
King Leo, fully named Leofric, is a british neonatal nurse living in Australia. He was clothed in a slightly unbuttoned men's safari shirt that hung around a small but thriving belly. He had greyish hair but was clearly young...and vibrant. He approached us in our reclining dinner position and throwing and arm around each of us, popping his head in between ours he said in the MOST stereotypical British accent possible "Girls, is there anything HIP to do around this side of the island? I mean we're staying roundabout the other end, its a thirty minute or so walk, and its really chilled out.. but over here its all families and what not.." And then petting Becca ever so gently he commented on wanting to find hip young folks like us.. and what were we up to etc. We told him we were eating pizza and knew nothing fun to do on the island but perhaps we 'd hang out with them on their way back from a full exploration of our side ... it felt like this..
On his way back Leo embraced Becca and began to discuss the Blueeeness of her Auuuura. I was intrigued and told him that once we'd finished eating we'd come join him and his compatriots for a drink at the next restaurant over... he said "Oh yes, but do, do come...' asking our names and commenting on my "fringe". In all his ridiculousness.. I was mighty curious, and convinced a tired and scorched Becca we'd best go for one drink.
We joined the group of three and were introduced to Ivan... a Norwegian who was drunk beyond any sort of reasonable coherent grasp of the English language and an Australian girl. Ivan used to play in a band on 4Ad and apparently had been slighted by a woman he was in love with for a very handsome friend of mine back home (I'm not naming names but I was pissed that his sordidness followed me to a remote island in the middle of the ocean a 12 hour time difference away... now THAT is impressive). Ivan, having left his band.. I'm thinking for similar reasons of incoherence was now a chef and according to Leo "Pays for everything and Ohhhhlways has good drags (drugs)..." We sat down and Leo immmmeediately began to tell us all about far less knowledgable travellers he'd encountered who hadn't EEEEEVen read 'The Beach' yet.... and then proclaimed his hatred of Elisabeth Gilbert... and continued to mock my fringe... asking me to tell the story of how I'd aquired it...
I was lying in wait.. thirsty for a bit of revenge... but so generally in awe of this person as being an existing ...thing in the world that I was slow on the comeback.
Instead I was caught up in some ridiculously long and totally inaudible story about Ivan cooking Axel rose a steak that he never ate...which lasted a good fifteen minutes longer than I had... anticipated. It ended just as I heard Leo telling Rebecca and the Aussie all about how lovely his eyes are... I stopped him and said "are you.. really discussing how lovely your own eyes are? Did I.. hear that correctly?" He turned beat red and mumbled something about how I was a snappy NYer or something and commented on our matching shirts (which was true..thanks mom!). Leo had spent much of his time whispering to Rebecca about her aura, Ivan was now launching into another loooonnnnng epiiiiiccc story about getting robbed by the mafia in Bali and then picked up by a thai lady boy on a motorbike and buying him dinner... after a handfull MORE of mushrooms than the regular dose requires? ...Rebecca and I were thankful for each other's general sobriety (She said to me later she could not imagine being the kind of person who would forget about cocaine in their pocket and pass gracefully through airport security...another one of Ivan's claims to fame). Becca went to the bathroom and King Leo pulled me forcefully aside to ask..."So how am I doing... what are my chances..."...
In every friendship there comes a moment.. when one could easily choose to amuse oneself.. enjoy a ride so epic in the watching a friend squirm under such glorious royal affection.....alas I did not take it and mumbled some story about Becca's ex...turning the questioning back to Leo.. in the hopes of recapturing some of the glory I had so mercifully passed up. "BUT LEO... tell me about Youuuuuu..."
Alas heartbreak isn't funny in most anyone... Leo sat Becca and I down and prevailed upon us to stay ONE MORE NIGHT on Gili Meno.. to stay with them in their very cheap accomodations on the other side of the island. Imploring with such dignity that if he repeated the name of the Sunset Gecco three loud and pronounced times we would most certainly not forget it... Sunset Gecco Sunset Gecco Sunset Gecco... Sunset Gecco... There he had said it so we would not forget. And we must come over the following day to meet them in the bar they would be drinking in next to the Sunset Gecco Sunset Gecco Sunset Gecco and (as Becca and I often repeat to each other with such a flourish) "Carp-eh Diem This Shit !! Just Carpe Diem this shit!" Truer words were ne'er spoken fair King Leo...
Ivan had bought a bunch of local kids with guitars an endless collection of beers and one non alcoholic cocktail for the youngster. I slipped Leo all the beers Ivan had bought for me from one side and fed the violently hungry pregnant cats the left overs of his giant grilled fish on the other watching both creatures pick away.
Eventually after Leo had given tired and exasperated Becca a head massage and whispered in the best impression of an old British Librarian accent I've ever heard "Thats just a tassste" in her ear.. we were off to bed. Leo implored her to let me stay drinking with them... but after I heard the collective agreement that the Eagles song 'Hotel California' was the most profound song they could all think of... and a conversation had ensued about its levels of meaning.. I was more than ready to join my comrade in sleep. Besides, he wanted to work on me only because he could sense I was weaker in my utter amusement and might slip into making a promise to stay one more night.
We traipsed to bed.. Gails of laughter pouring from us.. and were glad to be heading to Lombok.. out of the Kingdom of Leo... the poet (seriously.. a published poet)...the lover.. the man.. the legend.
Next Up.... Madness in Mataram.
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