I Can't Get No Sleep

Yesterday as the sun descended into the sea in an orange haze of spectacular clouds, I sat on the beach with the wind gently wafting in my face thinking; this is an island paradise.

This morning I walked along the beach in a red mist of insomnia rage. My normal sleeping troubles (which had seemed to have disappeared) were further flouted by the droning snores of the dorm, then a drunken crowd crashing in and out, switching on the main lights and talking at top volume. A couple started to have sex in one of the top bunks. They had stumbled in around 4am to loudly discuss a drug comedown and ask their friend for a load of ibuprofen. To avoid the rhythmic slapping noise that was acting as ear sandpaper I climbed down my bunk ladder, threw on some clothes and went for a walk.

Gili Trawangan is an island paradise; you can see sea turtles just by snorkeling a few metres off of the beach, which itself is a stretch of soft white sand. There is no motorised traffic; only the jingle of pony-drawn carriages and the gentle hum of island hopping boats.

So far the nightlife has been fun. I had a great night yesterday whizzing around the night market with some hostel buddies, eating satay, seafood, tacos and pancakes for tiny sums of money. I then had a great time sipping Bintang in a bar as the live band bounced out a steady flow of reggae classics.

But drugs are not my scene.

I understand that people want to try new things and have a good time, and don't get me wrong- I am a bit of a square. But I am a square with some fairly rounded edges. Three years a special constable in the metropolitan police showed me a side to the drugs trade that isn't widely viewed. It is an exploitative industry on every level with a hideous cycle of victimisation for everyone involved. I have seen wasted faces and teeth that look like black pins. I have seen utter human despair. All of this starts with an individual making a bad choice. And then another bad choice. And then the bad choices pile up in a spiral of addiction that they could never foresee. And no, the kids here aren't just doing mushrooms and weed; they're also doing coke and heroin. Gili Trawangan is famous for 'drug tourism.'

And it is the industry that I don't like. Amsterdam's policy in regards to cannabis is incredibly progressive; in in this scenario I have no problem with people taking a drug that is properly regulated and produced legitimately.

So I know this island is a place for people to let go. I know it's a fairly secure environment to uncover the mystery of recreational drugs (the media industry also perpetuates the myth that this is some kind of normal rite-of-passage) and there is a part of me that thinks "Should I dive in and have a go?" But no. I know myself well enough to know that I am not the sort of person to be pressured by perceived social norms.

I'm obviously in the older set here. There is a younger set of twenty-somethings here whom you can usually tell from the crowd because they will be boasting about something, and that something is how drunk they were, how many drugs they took or how many people they have slept with throughout the week. It's a sense of having achieved something I think. And there are people here like me who simply don't do drugs. It's not my scene and I'm not above letting that be known.

I'm comforted by the fact there are some fellow bleary-eyed very pissed off people at breakfast, but for now I think I've had my fill of Gili for a while. I snuck off and bought my ticket to Lombok off of a shady-looking guy in the street.