Magic Meno: The Island Void of Time

The romanticized spiritual getaway of Bali is now a myth. Roads are lined with cab drivers, masseuses and vendors accosting everyone who looks foreign. “Madame?” “Sir?” they relentlessly beckon. When you agree to negotiate a price, they hope you’ve forgotten the exchange rate convinced that all Westerners can afford to be taken advantage of.

Gili Meno, a nearby carless island of about 500 people, stands in stark contrast to Bali’s swindling culture. This small stretch of tropical jungle surrounded by white sand beaches and turquoise waters is humble, serene and remarkably undeveloped.

While the two nearby islands of Gili Trawangan and Gili Air have been built up with resorts and bars aplenty, the only way to get to Meno is to convince a fisherman on the mainland to give you a lift. Electricity comes from few unreliable generators, weak wireless internet connections are found in less than half a dozen restaurants and most homestays only offer cold, salt-water showers. The lack of amenities deters many travelers, but has given birth to a uniquely trusting relationship between the locals and foreigners.

On Meno, the only voices heard are residents inviting passersby to come lounge in their cabanas as they play guitar, chain smoke cigarettes and occasionally dive into the ocean for a snorkel. The open shacks covered in palm tree leaves serve as hangouts for men of all ages. They kick back from sunrise to sunset only retreating to their bungalows to join the women for some freshly caught red snapper or to escape the brief and frequent monsoons. 

According to the most recent census, there are 172 families on the island. Everyone helps everyone else with their businesses which involve tourism, fishing and coconut farming.

While some people have cell phones, Meno is generally void of time. Friends and family arrive to hang out or do business as they please. When they feel compelled to move on with their day they simply say “Sampai Jumpa” (Indonesian for “See You Later!”) and no one bothers to ask when “later” is.

This tight-knit community of Indonesians and respectful foreigners maintains a safe and tranquil environment on the island. People leave their valuables unmonitored all day on the sand, doors are left unlocked and if you want to make a purchase but don’t have money you’ll always be greeted with an insistent “don’t worry! don’t worry! pay later!” The magically ambiguous word: “later.”

Initially, I was bothered by the inconvenience of not having 21st century resources at my disposal. Until I realized. For people on Meno, “later” doesn’t denote procrastination or laziness it displays faith that all will come in good time. Slowly, but surely I began to notice that it does.

The locals call the island “Magic Meno,” and be it coincidence or more, whenever I needed something it appeared. When I was hungry, a woman with fresh pineapples came walking down the coral path. When I was rubbing my head from a brutal migraine, a masseuse approached me on the sand. 

When the family that promised me their ten dollar bungalow accidentally gave it away to another backpacker, they set me up in their twenty dollar bungalow for half the price. Oh and yes, I do mean ten US dollars a night for your own bungalow with an ocean view.

As a skeptic I’m not inclined to say I believe the island of Gili Meno has magic, but I will say it shows how much easier and simpler life can be in a small community built on trust.

At night as the tourists and locals lie in hammocks exchanging stories and singing Hotel California on the guitar, strobe lights flash and electronic music thumps from the two resort-filled islands just a swim across the ocean. Tempting, but I prefer a cold Bintang and some good old fashioned star gazing.