I write this now, sitting at my desk in a mysteriously hot London, my face an interesting two-tone-tan thanks to my poor timing in growing a beard and generally feeling a little inner glow that only travelling can truly bring. I have been on hiatus the last couple of months, things got intense at work and at home and I took a break, I don't apologise for it, it's what happens in life and we must be able to take these breaks in order to continue living it. At the end of the crush though I was able to reward myself with a two week trip to Indonesia, a trip that I would describe as being 'a mixed bag'. A whole lot of up, a whole lot of down and a dash of near death experience.

As with my Iceland piece (read here), I'm not going to discuss actual events that much, nor talk about too many personal experiences (though in it's nature this account will obviously reflect those events and experiences) but rather I'm going to give my overall feel for a country so varied and populous, filled with mixtures of peoples, cultures and icons beyond count that even now I'm slightly overwhelmed and my memories almost kaleidoscopic (though that may just be because of the questionable antibiotics).

It was a trip in three stages and so I will write this as three parts:

Part 1: Gili Islands

The Gili Islands are three little nipples sticking out of the much much larger Island of Lombok (currently experiencing some pretty violent earthquakes). Before arriving we were warned by the more boring of our friends that Gili Trawangan (the largest of the islands) is basically just a drinking hole, Australia's answer to Ibiza and I must commend these boring people on their total lack of observational skills. Yes Gili T has a certain culture to it, there are plenty of terrible hostels and even more terrible bars pumping out streams of the top twenty alongside wasted westerners. However, this is not all there is. The islands themselves are stunning, and despite their recent backward-renaissance they do still hold a local charm that can be found if you walk ten meters away from the main 'strip'. Perplexed looking locals litter the middle of the island (which only takes about 20 minutes to walk from one side to the other), unsure as to why all these random white people turned up on their sleepy island five years ago and now won't leave.

Activities besides drinking are varied and wide reaching, it's a fantastic spot if you're a diver (I'm not) if you like extreme sports (I don't) or if you're partial to a spot of fishing (nope). Luckily, even if you don't partake in any of the more butch and ''tribal-tattoo-esque" activities the islands themselves are so mind blowingly beautiful that it doesn't really matter. You can rent a bike or a horse and cart for next to nothing (the island doesn't allow motors so you're not at much risk) and then just go for a wander and see what's hiding in amongst the trees or what beautiful beaches you can find. The water is crystal clear of course and snorkelling is a good way to while away the hours before sunset. Or, if you're feeling brave you can rent a canoe or kayak and head over to one of the less developed of the Gilis (Air or Meno). We did this and nearly died, if I have one word of advice it would be this: beware the glass bottom kayaks if you weigh more than a small house-cat. They have a tendency to sink and then you're stuck out to sea in a really strong current ripping you away from any civilisation, your shoes sinking slowly beneath you as you struggle to hold onto the oars and your straw hat and with half a kilometre to swim before you get even close to land. Oh and then when you do get close to land you have to walk over two hundred metres worth of razor sharp coral and because your shoes are now homes for clown fish, you slice your feet to tiny little pieces, leaving little fleshy chunks of foot behind to feed the anemones before finally making it to shore swearing, sweating, bleeding and desperate to get your hands on the idiot that rented you the damn boat in the first place so you can say absolutely nothing in complaint because you're British.

Anyway, murder at the hands of Poseidon aside, for me the lasting impression of the Gilis was surprisingly the food. Weird I know to have had some of the best food of the holiday in what we had been warned was just a drinkers paradise. It was almost exclusively seafood, as you would expect from a tiny island, and bloody hell what seafood it was. The Night Market was a particular delight, fish caught that day is brought in and laid out in stalls for all to see and smell, rows and rows of brilliantly coloured, surprisingly fleshy looking they sat staring up at the star filled sky as their killers stood haggling over prices. A particular joy was the skewers of snapper, which I dipped into a sauce that the local lady warned "spicy spicy, very hot too hot for you" and I have to commend her for her honesty and accuracy. I have never before considered drinking seawater but when your mouth burns hotter than Satan's anus you take what relief you can get. Seafood platters are on offer everywhere and they are well worth it, on a day where one of my travel companions was bedridden with a cataclysmic hangover I and my slightly more robust travel-mate took it upon ourselves to have a go at one of these platters, here is what we ate:

Sorry mate, but to be fair you were delicious

5 King Prawns
3 langoustine type large things
2 enormous squid
a whole snapper
Half another as-yet-unknown fish
A large plate of chips
Some kind of stingray
A whole lobster

Each.

It was a vast amount of food, but with a little puffing and panting and some hair-of-the dog Bintang we were able to put it all away. Normally the sacrifice to a platter that enormous would be quality but quite frankly I've never had seafood like it. It still had that sea-salt fresh taste and I'm pretty sure I'd met the lobster the day before when our kayak decided to follow it's submariner dreams.

Yes the Gili islands really did shine through for the food in my opinion, however there was one other thing that was truly special, and that was the sunset. We had cleverly decided to stay on the 'quiet side' of the island, away from the main strip and this meant that from our beanbag festooned smudge of beach we could watch the sun going down every night, the view out across the azure sea was complete with Instagrammable swing and extraordinarily well endowed ponies which truly to added to the aesthetic. The real sight though was of course the sun. Nature really does do it best and each night we would watch as the colours splashed across the sky, the island of Bali slowly emerging out of the sea haze as the sun lowered itself gently to rest. Blue became orange and amber, titian and violent strains of fire red blazed stronger and deeper as the dusk drew in, variations of single colours usually only seen on a colour card at a bougie kitchen store dominated the entire, enormous horizon before finally fading out with the sun's final flash of green and the awe stricken silence of the onlookers.

Even the most wasted Australian diver had to stop singing Waltzing Matilda for the half hour the sunset took. It was a dominating and awesome sight, almost oppressive in its beauty, it proved that once again the best parts of travel aren't the complicated, over planned and overwrought tours, nor the getting hammered in a tiki bar with semi naked strangers. It's the simple and yet incomparable moments that hang with you as long as you live. Nature knows best, and this was to become a theme for the rest of our time out there.

For the full photo gallery of Gili T click here.