Southeast Asia has some special unifying quality that means that everywhere you go and every new country you visit will deliver an experience second to none. It is a part of the world where regardless of how much research you do, it will always surprise you, exceed expectations, and shatter illusions. Indonesia epitomizes this. It is the most beautiful natural paradise while also bearing a complex relationship to the outside world. Many westerners go there because, for them, it is cheap. They can live in affordable luxury inaccessible to them at home and essentially pretend to be rich, something many in the West aspire to beyond all else.

The sad truth is that behind this affordable luxury lies an inescapable cycle of poverty for Indonesians. Prices are cheap because wages are low and life is hard. It is a blatant example of neo-colonialism where Western faux-elites lounge on the beach, served by smiling Indonesians. Shortly before we visited there had been large-scale protests in Jakarta sparked by a proposed increase in housing allowance for members of parliament. A cherry-on-type type addition to blatant inequality. Concessions were made by the government amid clashes between the people and police and so perhaps things will get better. One can only hope. Travel is an inherently political pursuit and while it is important to acknowledge this, it also should not, I believe dissuade you from visiting these places. While I am conflicted about traveling to a place like this, I truly believe that tourism is also a way for locals to make money and conscious efforts to support them rather than the foreign businesses and restaurants can have a positive impact. I digress, but the fact is that I had the most wonderful time in Indonesia, yet I cannot write about it without acknowledging this background.

With all that said, we arrived in Denpasar Airport early in the morning and set off into the muggy morning heat. Met by a driver, we drove out to the Eastern edge of Bali, a town called Amed which is a singularly peaceful part of this earth. In sharp contrast to the crowds and traffic I had expected, this little place on the edge of Jemeluk Bay is almost deserted. An occasional scooter, and rarer car, will zip past on the hilly main road which divides the town in two. The beach is made up of volcanic black rocks, and we arrived to the sound of quietly lapping waves that created a peaceful clatter as the water withdrew over the stones. While not particularly comfortable for walking the beach is beautiful and the bay is monumental for snorkelling, hosting a large reef that extends across the bay. We wandered around for some time before heading up the hill to a warung (Indonesian restaurant) for our first brush with the local cuisine. Splitting a Nasi Goreng and an Ayam Opor was a quick road to declaring my undying love for Indonesian food. The day grew late and we watched the sun fade over the bay before an early night ahead of a day of diving the next day.

The next morning, we were up with the sun and after a quick coffee and some boiled eggs we were picked up by in a van and driven up the road to Tulamben and the dive centre. We had three dives in store for us that day and so excitement was high. Our first dive was also to be my first ever wreck dive. We geared up and waded into the sea for a shore entry. Descending slowly with the seafloor the wreck slowly emerged out of the azure deeps. Approaching it I was filled with excitement. It was much larger than I had expected and the ships skeleton jutted up all around, covered in a proliferation of coral. The USAT Liberty had been a cargo ship during the second world war and had been torpedoed by the Japanese. It had subsequently washed up on the beaches of Bali only to be returned to the ocean after a volcanic eruption in the 60’s. She rests off the coast of Tulamben now and is a popular dive site, and for good reason. We skirted the underside of the ship, heading down. We came to an opening into the hold and then entered. This was a thrilling moment. As a lifelong history nerd, entering a wreck like this was just too good. Add onto that the tremendous level of biodiversity surrounding us, and the result was just about the best morning I have ever had.

The day was not done however and after a quick coffee and surface interval, duly observed, we headed back out. This time to a site called ‘the drop-off.’ Again, we walked in from the beach and followed the gradient of the seafloor downwards. This time we were greeted by a monumental wall of coral which we swam beside with the depthless blue on our left-hand side. I was always scared of open water as a child and am still unsure as to what exactly changed but it no longer bothers me. This was very helpful on this dive as the drop-off was ever present as we traversed the wall of coral on our other side. The sheer number of fish spiralling around made me feel as though I was drifting through an aquarium. We finished the dive with a rather incredible sighting of an electric clam. We had been told we might encounter one before the dive, but I had immediately dismissed this as a joke. Sure enough however, here was an electric clam passing a current back and forth along the opening in its shell. I have since learned that there is no actual electricity in the process, but it is spectacular regardless.

Another surface interval came and went and then it was onto our final dive of the day. Coral Garden was to be the last site and yet again the scenes were astonishing. This was also a heartening sight as we were able to examine a project aimed at regrowing coral in the area. The ‘gardens’ we saw were well-established and thriving with plentiful fish taking refuge amongst the regrown corals. It is good to know that this is possible and reassuring to see that many projects like this are taking place around the world. The coral is set up along lines that are laid out in frames. These are interspersed with statues of some of the iconic species to be found around Bali. We ended the dive in amongst a massive shoal of barracuda that fully enveloped us. All too soon the day was done, and we were back on dry land. We returned to the top of the hill for dinner and watched the sunset behind the volcano Mt Batur.

The next morning our first stop was a motorbike rental shop where we picked up their cheapest little scooter. We rented some gear too and set off. Struggling with the inclines we roared around on that tiny bike. After a few wrong turns and a breakfast smoothie at altogether the incorrect location we arrived at the site of the Japanese Wreck. No sooner had we arrived than we were in the water. The wreck was not far out and only a short swim from the beach. An unreal sight it was to see the full length of the ship laying on the ocean floor. We spent some hours exploring the old patrol boat that was sunk under mysterious circumstances during World War II. The boat is teeming with life now and the number of fish and coral present was mind-blowing. Heading back to the beach I realised that equalizing as we dove around the wreck had caused my nose to bleed. It had done so on the dives the day before, but I had paid it little attention as the instructor with us had passed it off as normal. The fact that it was happening at such shallow depths stressed me out a little although another guide dispelled my worries when I asked him about it.

Suppressing these misgivings we hit another snorkel site. This one called Turtle Point. We were absolutely determined to find a turtle and so we set off into the swell. The conditions were far from ideal, and we were buffeted around a fair bit with the current dragging us steadily up the coast. Visibility was awful too but we were undaunted. We made our way up and down, back and forth and eventually had to abandon the pursuit as the conditions worsened. We took a lunch break at an epic lunch spot called Small Time Cooks. The conditions were forecast to get worse at Turtle Point and so we retreated to Jemeluk bay after a stellar lunch. Back in the bay the conditions had not exactly worsened but they were no better than before either. We decided to head out anyway as it was our last day in Amed and we never waste a minute when we could be in the ocean.

Traipsing over the black volcanic rocks of the beach we entered the sea and swam out through piss poor visibility. We could see the reef at close quarters and loads of fish but the conditions were seriously against us, until suddenly, they weren’t. We rounded a rocky outcrop and suddenly the water became crystal clear in all directions. Confused but excited a new world had exposed itself to us and we drifted up and down the vibrant reef. Then, a rock moved and I realized with a start that I was looking directly at a hawksbill turtle. A moment later it led us to a companion and there we floated in awe of these two majestic ocean reptiles as they munched at the coral and bickered amongst themselves. After a long while of this we headed back in and celebrated the sighting with a well-deserved singaraja beer. We finished the day up on the hill at a beach club called Sunset Amed which true to its name offered us an incredible view of the setting sun over Bali.

The next morning, we woke up early and met a driver and headed for the strangest spot of the trip, Padangbai. It is a harbour town from where the boats head out to Nusa Penida, Nusa Lembongan, and the Gili Islands. That trip lay ahead but for the moment we found ourselves at a loose end for a day in the town. Very few tourists seemed to be settling in the way we were. Everyone else arrived and then departed in short order. Not us! We were going to explore every inch of this little harbour town. Starting with blue lagoon where we spent a couple of hours snorkelling amongst teeming fish and sublime reef while monkeys looked on from the nearby rock faces. We then made our way out of town in the other direction, and this is where things got weird. We wandered far out, now truly amongst the locals, and in amongst the jungle. The farther we walked the more people seemed surprised to see us but on we trekked. We passed up a derelict road and found a path that some reddit posts had led us to. From there on we were in the jungle proper. Plants overgrew the path and we only had a faint trail to follow as we made our way up a hill. With a growing sense of misgiving about snakes, spiders, and malaria we made it to the other end where we entered an abandoned hotel.

Perched up on the top of a high hill the hotel would have been seriously beautiful had it been finished. Instead, it is now a collection of graffiti and beer cans evidencing the popularity of the place. Rather off-putting was the fact that there were two motorbikes parked right in the centre of the entry point but there was no sign of anyone else. We wandered around the hotel passing through creepy dark passages under hanging bats. The views from what would have been rooms were stunning and the whole experience was a mixed bag. On one hand awe and excitement and the other, some creeping nervousness. Truth be told my wife was a lot more ballsy than myself and silenced my whining as we made our way from room to room. As the shadows grew long my discomfort followed suit and soon, I had to insist that they leave this creepy hangout. My wife is a sucker for a beach sunset and did not take too much convincing. We marched back towards town and as it became visible hooked a right back onto a jungle trail, this one more worn and leading to a beach. There we enjoyed some beers as the last light of day slipped away.

The following day we awoke and walked over to the harbour, destination Nusa Lembongan. The trip out was hard to report on as I slept the entire way. I have a predisposition for seasickness and so I always take these tablets which are essentially sleeping pills marketed for boat rides. They do work in fairness as it is difficult to vomit while comatose. I awoke as we were deposited on a floating outpost from which we had to catch another boat into the Lembongan harbour. We wasted no time and rented a motorbike from the harbour before ripping up the hill to our accommodation. We dumped our things and tore off again in pursuit of lunch. Once secured, we took a boat out to the pontoon, an idyllic floating bar alongside a reef with a serious break and many surfers. There we enjoyed some exorbitantly priced drinks and watched the surfers as a turtle swam by. Launching ourselves into the water intermittently we whiled away the afternoon before heading back and stopping in at Dive Concepts for gear fitting and indemnity signing. Formalities complete we ate the most sensational food at a warung, I had a garlic chicken, then headed for bed with a big day ahead of us.

We awoke very early and motored across the island to squeeze in a quick breakfast and coffee before meeting up with a man named Keef at the dive shop. He was a super chill Indonesian man and soon we were geared up and headed out on the boat. The trip was a long one as the dive site was on the next island over, Nusa Penida. Soon enough we arrived. The swell was gnarly and rocked the boat rather seriously as we strapped on our tanks and made ready for the descent. We had arrived at Manta Point. Unsure what exactly to expect we back rolled into the turbulent white water and began our descent. Reaching the bottom anticipation was at an all-time high. In no time at all Keef gave a point and there, appearing out of the gloom came a manta ray. With powerfully slow flaps of its wings, it approached and drifted close above our heads. The awe I felt in that moment is hard to describe. The ray was far bigger than I had imagined and just soared so majestically through the water. Passing far closer than I had ever expected to get to such a magnificent creature. Believing the experience complete we followed Keef along the reef to a large rock which signified a feeding station and there to my utter astonishment we encountered many more of the animals. Each more fascinating than the last, they circled all around, maybe nine or ten in all. Overwhelmed by their otherworldly gliding I barely remembered to breathe. Time stood still and I basked in the absolute immensity of that moment. An eternity passed by in a minute and soon Keef turned us around and we headed back towards the boat. Along the way we encountered a mantis shrimp among other ocean dwellers culminating in the most unbelievable dive. We surfaced and the blood I spat hardly detracted from the experience we had just shared. With the boats passengers giddy as schoolchildren we took off for the next site.

We arrived at Crystal Bay and dropped in descending onto a beautiful sloping reef which stretched down into the depths below. We glided alongside taking in the sights with cuttlefish, flounder fish, nudibranchs, and a large moray eel being the highlights. As beautiful as it was it quickly became the most technical of any of our dives too due to a slight current which combined with an upsurge created some difficult conditions. This, coupled with the fact that my wife had become seriously buoyant and was fighting to maintain a level, resulted in an interesting experience. We ended the dive with Keef and I both upended and each holding onto one of my wife’s hands, kicking downwards as much as we could while she was dragged upwards increasingly. Despite the challenges we ended a successful dive and upon surfacing I realized that the conditions had not been my biggest challenge as my sinuses had completely turned on me and I spat the biggest globules of bloody phlegm yet. Naturally I was freaked out so I spoke to Keef again and he suggested a quick check-in at the doctor just to confirm that I was fit for diving.

Back on the island I drove over to the hospital. The appearance of it did not inspire confidence and nor did the fact that the power was out and as such it was steaming hot inside. Regardless, I was seen to quickly and efficiently by a very friendly doctor who checked me out thoroughly before declaring that I was, in fact, not to dive again under any circumstances. I had developed a nasty respiratory infection that was affecting my sinuses in their entirety. Having only made it through half of the planned dives for the trip I was shattered. Sitting there devastated I realized there was nothing for it but to follow the doctors’ orders, so I picked up my prescription and headed off. With a fragment of hope lingering that I might be well enough to dive on Gili Air, I parked the bus and spent the rest of that day recouping.

Next morning I dropped my wife at the dive centre and filled Keef in. I would not be diving but at least Caity could still experience the three drift dives planned for that day. A little morose I took off on the motorbike and made my way to the South of the island where I found an old lady who agreed to take me through the mangroves on her little boat. Quite a beautiful if short-lived experienced I was back on dry land in thirty minutes at even more of a loose end than before. I resolved to do some birding and so drove a huge loop around Lembongan which deposited me amongst the locals houses and the large stretches of jungle which separated them. Luckily for my mental well-being I did spot some exciting birds including two kingfisher species, a Rufous-bellied Eagle, and an Asian House Martin. Having somewhat distracted myself I spent a few good hours with my book and a beer or two alongside the pool at the accommodation.

Reuniting with Caity later we explored the raging swell of God’s Tears before heading over to a smaller island connected to Lembongan via a long yellow bridge. We ended up with a rather crazy ride uphill on sketchy eroded pathways to find our way to the top of the hill where we gratefully found a beer spot before ripping off again to the other side of the island and Mahala Point where we watched the most unreal sunset as the swell beat upon the cliff faces below us. The view from the point is truly breath-taking and so we spent two sunset sessions there trying to absorb every minute detail of the vista which stretched off into the distance. After four very eventful days on Lembongan it was time to retrace our steps to the small platform in the bay at the top of the island from where we caught another ferry, this time heading in the direction of the island of Lombok. The sea was quite rough and the journey somewhat arduous, luckily my sea-sickness tablets yet again insured that I was down for the count.

Before I knew it, we had arrived on the sensationally beautiful island of Gili Air on Christmas eve. It is such a quaint little island and there are no motorbikes. Horse-drawn carriages and bicycles the only means of getting around, or an electric scooter for the bougier visitors. We checked into our accommodation and rented some bicycles before tearing out into the tiny streets of Gili Air. We cycled around much of the island before finding the most wonderful place on earth. With beanbags on the beach looking at the setting sun and a free flow offer that was simply too good to be true we settled in for numerous cocktails as the idyllic view grew ever more beautiful in the fading glow of the Indonesian sun. As if the deal wasn’t good enough our free flow came with a free seafood barbeque which we munched delightedly. Truly the most exceptional day.

The next day was Christmas and after unwrapping some presents, we hit the beach. In an absolute daze we spent the day in the shade eating stellar Indonesian food, beef rendang, nasi goreng, nasi, campur, and the like, snorkelling on the most pristine reefs, and a fair few Bintangs. I had to be careful with the swimming because my ears were all messed up but I still managed to have the most wonderful day. That night we posted up at a beach restaurant and enjoyed some of the most sensational food I have ever encountered. Steak and lamb that melted in the mouth, paired with sides that brought a tear to my eye and complimented by the delicate touch of Indonesian local breweries. An unreal way to spend Christmas. As dinner wrapped up we wandered down the beach and found a band ripping through a setlist of iconic dad rock classics and ended up having an absolute blast there on the beach.

Truth be told our time on Gili Air was not characterized by any of our usual frantic exploring and constant busyness. This was due mainly to the fact that you could walk around the entire island in about two hours. There was not all that much space to explore. On land that is, the waters around the island boasted some of the most extensive and beautiful reefs I have ever seen. Chock full the most insane marine life from gently cruising green and hawksbill turtles to the slightly threatening presence of triggerfish and sea snakes. What an absolute wonderland it was. I was being cautious with the water though because of my ears and so I kept the underwater time on the low end, skipping every few snorkel sessions. One afternoon we took a SUP out and I paddled while my wife hung off the front with mask and snorkel and spotted marine creatures including the biggest turtle either of us have ever seen. Thus passed our time on Gili Air. Unfortunately, my ears were still messed up by the time we left and so I missed all the remaining scuba dives of the trip. Thankfully we headed inland after the Gili’s and after a long day of travel we found ourselves in Ubud.

Ubud is a strange place full of white people with dreadlocks peddling courses on various spiritual practices. It is also seriously beautiful and the wilderness areas that surround the town are second to none. We started our time there on a low note, however. I rented and Nmax which is bigger than the motorbikes I am used to and despite some misgivings we headed out with the goal of finding some lunch and then heading up to the rice terraces. That dream died all too soon as an Indonesian kid of maybe 15 or 16 smashed into us from behind as I turned into a parking lot. We were miraculously lucky in the collision as the only injuries we incurred came from hitting the ground rather than being hit by a speeding motorbike. The Bali bandit who hit us however was far less lucky and cheese grated one side of his body as he slid along the rough paving of the road. I had to get myself together enough to negotiate with the poor boy and the gathered watchers who rushed to his aid. These negotiations boiled down to a very clear order for us to leave immediately. No need for insurance or any such nonsense.

I then shamefacedly returned the bike to the kindly uncle who had rented it to me and explained what had happened and the resulting decision that I would not actually be needing a rental and would rely on grab bikes instead. Trying our best to not be too shaken up we took an easy afternoon before going up to the rice terraces for a drink. The view up there was spectacular and the dinner we had afterwards even more so. The next morning, we were up early and walked down into town. This was exciting as we had a walk scheduled with a bird guide that Caity had organized for my Christmas present. What an epic treat this turned out to be. The most enthusiastic woman, Su, led us around some low-lying rice paddies that bordered some thicker jungle. She pointed out plants, butterflies, cultural practices, and of course birds with an enthused cry of, “look at it!” or “eyes on the sky!” A superb way to shake the memory of the disaster of the day before and rack up a number of new birds for the list including the Javan Kingfisher which I had dearly hoped to find.

That afternoon we went out to the jungle and took some rafts down a river. Guided by some legends who picked snake fruit for us to eat along the way and accompanied by a German couple and Scottish family with the most gregarious daughter on planet earth we spun our way through rapids and waterfalls and scatterings of rainfall too. If was a truly pleasant experience with a little element of heart-pumping excitement thrown in from time to time. Afterwards we headed back into town and once again sought out some Indonesian food. The cuisine of the country is so truly enjoyable, and I still think about many of the meals I had there often. The next day was New Years Eve and while we considered a relaxed day by the pool, we quickly decided that that was a trash idea and so instead we woke up at 2am to hike up an active volcano.

We drove out of Ubud in the pitch dark of predawn morning in a van driven by someone known to the same man I had rented the motorbike from at our accommodation. We were joined by a young Pakistani woman and an older and wildly outspoken Iranian woman who now lives in Australia. After a substantial drive we arrived at the base of Mt Batur and set about preparing to climb it by visiting the most repugnant public toilet on planet earth and trying to decipher which direction the mountain lay. Soon a guide collected our group and with headlamps lacking bands and thus handheld we began the trek. I don’t know why but I thought that walking up a volcano would be easy. It was not. The pitch dark was not much help but the support of the group who were happy to rest frequently was. Doing our best Frodo and Sam impression we plugged up the crumbly scree of the mountainside. After three hours we had done it. Sitting down to enjoy a hard-boiled egg and slice of bread along with a bitter coffee we watched the sun rise from the rim of the crater. Seldom have I seen a sweeter sight than the sun coming up and illuminating the land that had been shrouded in blackness during our ascent. Sitting beside a stray dog we marveled at the sight of Batur lake stretching out towards the beach and the rival volcanic peak of Mt Agung. With a bucket list morning in the bag, we hustled down the side of the mountain and headed back to Ubud.

Arriving around lunchtime we immediately set about finding a warung to address the rowdy mountaineers hunger roiling within us. Not long after we had demolished a sizeable brunch, we were forced by sheer exhaustion into an afternoon nap. We then set out for a truly memorable New Years Eve. An exceptional dinner was flattened and then Caity and I marched down further into the town than we had been, finding a street of bars and clubs. We picked one that we knew was going to host some bands and we went in. As the Singarajas began to flow a band took to the stage and began to thrash out some absolute bangers from the annals of 2000’s alt rock history. They were truly one of the greatest musical acts I have ever seen, and we accompanied them deep into the evening with the most nostalgic soundtrack whipping up a fervor in the bar. The countdown sounded and we blasted into 2026 with Green Day covers roaring and the most enjoyable trip drawing to an end.

New Years Day began on a high note. Once the pounding in my head subsided somewhat after the rapid consumption of approximately one liter of water. We headed up to a poolside club up the side of a valley looking out over the green of the rice terraces below. A day of eating, drinking, swimming and chilling passed by in a flash and ended up being the most magnificent way to kick off another year of heart-stopping knee-shaking adventures around Asia and beyond. The next day we made our way back to Denpasar and after some hurried repacking so that our bags could accompany us on the flight as carry-on we headed off back to Ho Chi Minh City. While our luck was certainly not the best on that trip it will live forever in my mind as one of the most spectacular and a testament to how one can never truly enjoy the highs without first knowing the lows.

Words and Photos by Grant O’Beirne