We’ve been staying at Tanga Bungalows on Gili Air Island for the last six nights. Which means, that for the last six nights, we’ve been woken up at 4am to a symphony of sounds that set off the day.
There’s a mosque in the village which sounds off a prayer reminder a few times throughout the day. This, is the first thing I hear. I have different reactions to this from morning to morning. At times I feel quite at one with the chanting, feeling my connection to the island and its people. At times I wake up completely irked by this “noise pollution” and with a loud huff turn over and dig my head deeper into the pillow. Who, I ask, is up at this time praying”?
This is followed by the roosters which start up well before sunrise. They are loud and constant and are joined by a melody of birds all singing their wake up call to a different tune.
As all of this is going on there is an occasional, deep “mooooo” from one of the cows that share the field with us. Mike and I agree that this is less of the cows trying to get in on the action and more of them saying “yo, I’m trying to sleep here”.
From time to time there is a laugh or cry from one of the local kids which reminds us of our proximity to the village. We are guests here on their island. And as we sit here reading our kindles, drinking our tea and contemplating our next move there is a whole world taking place behind us. A world of work and bartering. School and prayers.
Each morning we sit here for a couple of hours and take it all in. We then head out down the little mud path about 200 m to the “road”. The flip flop of our sandals is masked by the sound of the wind rustling through the palm trees and the buzz of the flies hassling the cows.
We reach the road and are greeted by “brotha you want to go snorkeling today?” “Sista you need some pineapple, maybe a sarong”? It’s the same thing every day, every 10 meters. But it’s met with smiles each and every time as it’s hard not to smile when the air is filled with sounds of waves crashing up on the shore.
As we wander around we’ll have to step aside when we hear the jingle-jangle/clip clop of the horses dressed up in bells that are taxiing both locals and tourists about the island. There are no cars here. No pavement. Just horse and buggies and sandy roads.
At the end of the day we head back to our oasis. We’ll take a minute to pause and share a good laugh over the two geese that live at the end of our path who continually honk about while following each other around in circles. Back up the mud path the moonlight casts a shadow over the palm trees and we make our way up to our “home” and settle into bed. We drift off to the hum of crickets and the “giggety giggety” of the geckos scampering across the ceiling calling to their friends.
Another day has come and gone on Gili Air.
