Transforming Eden

A small shack renting surfboards. Kuta and Lombok's other southern beaches are famous for their tantalizing waves.

View Photos (4) Image © 2009 Chriswan Sungkono

For those dreaming of visiting the fabulous virgin beaches of South Lombok, wait no longer. Go now. Time is running out.

That was the impression I couldn't help getting from reading recent news about Lombok that made me cringe at first. Yes, there has been a lot of buzz about some sort of megaplan to develop the southern part of Lombok-the island any of my friends know I am so crazy about-into an enormous complex of swanky resorts. But I wasn't at all sure about this, so with a healthy dose of wishful thinking, I decided to go there again, this time taking along two colleagues of mine for a five-day journey.

I set out with essentially one purpose in mind: to disprove the notion that one has to go there now if one wants to savor the true beauty of Kuta Lombok and the like.

For I didn't believe that all the width and breadth of South Lombok can be simply transformed into a long stretch of private white-sand beaches with glitzy five-star hotels and well-kept (but man-made, nonetheless) tropical gardens and infinity pools crowding the open landscape. This should not be like Bali's Nusa Dua, I remember saying to myself once, where international hotels' flags reign and flourish along a somewhat unexceptional coastline, made popular only by exaggerated publicity, not by the sheer grandeur of the place itself.

And I hope with all my heart that such fate will not befall upon this pristine paradise. Because the magic of South Lombok is found in its unspoiled nakedness, in its splendid promontories boasting wistfully romantic views, in the tranquility of its secluded beaches. It requires no cosmetics.

Arriving at the lustrous beach of Kuta, we were welcomed by the friendly staff of Tastura Hotel, which is owned and run by the local government. The room rates had not changed much since the last time I was here two years ago. I would never forget how blissful I'd felt, to be able to shower with hot water under silent sparkles of the stars and sleep on a king-size mattress covered with clean linens-all that for less than fifteen dollars! This is cheap luxury, no matter how oxymoronic that might sound. The beach in front of the hotel, inundated by bright afternoon sunlight, remained enchanting to me regardless of the fact that I had seen it so many times before. My colleagues, coming for their first time to Lombok, were dumbstruck at once.

Ask anyone who have set foot on or stayed the night here, and they'd agree on one thing: South Lombok is anything but modest. It would be a shame that such an intense majesty should give way to the banalities of concrete buildings and upscale residences. I'm not the most outspoken champion of conservationism, but to alter this perfect art of nature, in my view, does not deserve to be called development. It is ruination.

Yet, as I began to interview the people that I encountered during my stay, from hotel porters to security guards to drivers and finally local villagers, I quickly realized that there is a big chance for that to happen. Not decades from now, but rather in the near future.

For years, land in the coastal areas of Kuta, Tanjung Aan, Seger, Gerupuk, and as far east as Mertak, had been largely owned by an Indonesian developer called LTDC. While some patches of land are still being cultivated by Sasak villagers, much of what comprises the region has now been sold to foreign investors, who grab every acre of land like a throng of voracious fish in a pond compete for food.

The biggest fish is decidedly Emaar, a giant property company from the United Arab Emirates that never seems to run out of cash. Owning more than 1,200 hectares of land extending along seven kilometers of scenic coastline, they have a colossal vision to achieve, and the means to carry it out. With an investment amounting upwards of a half billion US dollars, certainly Emaar is not toying around with this. Ground plans have been drawn, in which the entire area will be turned into a new Dubai of sorts: a tourists' paradise with world-class resorts, boutiques, malls, entertainment parks and a golf course that are projected to bring in millions of dollars.

Construction of a new airport in the township of Praya, some 40-minute drive from Kuta, is underway. (A reliable source from the government revealed to me that Emaar also takes part in the funding.) Considerably larger than the current airport Selaparang in Mataram, it will serve international flights in addition to domestic ones starting from 2010, if everything goes as planned. The roads connecting Praya to Kuta and those along the coastline are being broadened and smoothened. Plots of land that still belong to the Sasak tribe are being bought out at a staggering pace, and at a questionably fair price.

With all this in place, Kuta Lombok will undoubtedly host Indonesia's upcoming tourism hotspot. Vacationers and daytrippers will be more commonplace, as the roads and the region's once infamous safety will be in better shape, and people from other countries can now fly straight here to bask on its white-sand beaches, only minutes away from the airport. What was once frivolously regarded as Bali's backyard will soon become its most formidable counterpart. Simply put, the era of high-profit, high-profile tourism has dawned.

Sounds cool? This tourism boom, unfortunately, comes with a caveat: only those with money to burn would be able to afford all the luxuries provided here. Move over, backpackers, Kuta will not be your playground anymore. Its countenance will undergo a drastic change, from that of unsullied beauty into a grand commercial complex with evenly-spaced rows of palm trees. The obsession with palm trees is but one of the many similarities I could envisage which Kuta and Dubai will share in the future, although the two are poles apart in their fundamental topography. The former is a chaotic form of exquisiteness shaped by the savage forces of nature; the latter is an artificial form of orderliness produced by the minds and toil of men.

The question for me is: Does Kuta need all that?

For the majority of local people, who have for ages been living in the throes of poverty due to the land's aridity, this is arguably a good thing. With millions of rupiahs they receive from selling their properties to Emaar, they can now move somewhere else to start new lives and create a better destiny. Jobs will be abound: the projects during construction period will surely absorb hundreds of villagers that otherwise would be unemployed. Everyone in the travel industry will prosper and be happier with all the money rolling in, except those on the paying side. It's going to be easier to reach Kuta, but also way more expensive to stay there.

Surely, not everyone is happy. The beachfront stalls selling foods, basic needs and cheap local clothes will have to close down and move somewhere else, because leasing the land from Emaar would be financially impossible for them. There is this simple, nameless eatery by the sea that I-and some of my friends who've come here, I bet-would particularly miss. It is run by a cordial Sasak woman who cooks utterly delicious pelecing ayam, easily a favorite for anyone dining there, including us. Some people I know even have said that it is worth coming there just to taste her dishes again. Should this small restaurant disappear, it would be a truly regrettable thing.

The cozy Tastura Hotel, along with other inexpensive lodgings, will be among the victims of this development as well. In only a matter of months from now-in July 2009, according to the most recent information-the ownership will be handed over to Emaar. What will become of this nice establishment afterwards remains as black as Kuta's starry nights, only without the stars.

The pool security guard that my friends and I spoke to had his own version of the future. Tastura, he said, would be used as lodgings as well as office for Emaar workers. Or, under new management, it would be opened for public to keep cash flowing in, while the preliminary construction takes place further east, namely in Tanjung Aan. He would be laid off from his current job should the hotel stop operating, and would try to snatch a new position at Emaar if possible. He didn't sound that optimistic, though.

And what would happen to the land itself? The gorgeous scenery will be altered completely. As for myself, it seems more fitting to call the process "transmogrification" instead of "prettification" of Kuta's breathtaking landscape. I would have to verify it with my own eyes later, when all this has taken place, to say otherwise. I know, creations of such haunting greatness are hard to preserve. Beautiful things don't last, they say. I guess I'd have to agree.

In the late afternoon of our second day in South Lombok, we found a mesmerizingly beautiful beach farther east, thanks to our quiet boatman. (His village, he said, is still free from investors' claws.) We were the only three persons on that beach-the boatman waited for us uncomplainingly on the boat. Twin round hillocks jut out of the blue horizon like plump breasts of a sensuous woman dozing off under the sun. I could see figures of surfers gently splitting out the giant waves that rolled nearby.

I should thank the boatman, for that view suffused me with newfound optimism. I believe there are more secluded beaches waiting to be discovered in this speck of paradise that is Lombok. I promised to myself that I will venture out and look further for more evocative places to inspire me, to slake my constant appetite for beauty.

Even with all those interviews and investigations, I honestly don't know when the groundbreaking of this megaproject will actually take place. It can be a year from now or five, or, who knows, perhaps never. It can even be tomorrow, or the moment you are reading this. If you have been there and are thinking of coming back, I have disclosed to you the situation. Decide it for yourself.

For you who only have heard of it or seen its glory captured in pictures (however limitedly), and thus become enticed by it, I could only give you one piece of advice:

Go now, or risk missing an experience of a lifetime.

Published on 9/22/09