Lombok -- the most beautiful place on God's earth
Lombok -- the most beautiful place on God's earth
By Stephanie Merrit
BALI, Indonesia: "Five dollars," said the man at passport
control, sticking a furtive hand through the side of his booth,
"or you go home next plane."
Admittedly it was down to my bad maths that my passport was
three days short of the required six months' validity, but it was
three days for goodness sake and, pleasant as the flight had been
(as far as an 18-hour flight can be pleasant), I didn't fancy
another one immediately.
Nor, for the sake of five dollars, was I interested in a
closer look at Indonesian judicial proceedings, so I gave in. As
it turned out, his maths was as bad as mine; 'Five!' he hissed,
frantically writing down 50. 'Welcome to Bali.'
Before I got there, Bali had always conjured visions of smooth
white beaches with frondy palms, packed with gap-year backpackers
and Australian surfers in sarongs under a vast sky of stained-
glass blue.
Instead we landed through a layer of fat grey cloud and
stepped out into a humidity that wrapped itself around your face
like a wet scarf. 'It's the rainy season,' our guide explained
cheerfully, and I couldn't help feeling slightly cheated; it had
been the rainy season in London 18 hours and US$50 ago.
But once we left behind the honking traffic of Denpasar and
walked into the marble foyer of the Oberoi Hotel, Bali began to
live up to the cliches. The rain had stopped and Wagnerian surf
thundered on to the beach a few feet away from the open-air
restaurant; it was still humid, but the air was full of the scent
of flowers, the wind off the sea was sharp and the beers were
stingingly cold.
'This is paradise,' someone observed, calling on all their
imaginative resources. 'Wait till you see Lombok,' said John, the
Oberoi's American manager. 'Lombok makes this look like New York
City.'
Bali is busy; you would not know it from inside the secluded
grounds of the Oberoi - 15 acres of tropical flowers and private
luxury villas, a huge pool, amphitheater and its own stretch of
beach - but the coastal resorts are becoming crammed with bars
and nightclubs catering for the surfers and young travelers
sporting henna tattoos and ethnic jewelry.
Lombok, by contrast, is only two hours away by ferry but feels
like a different country. Which, essentially, it is. The people
of each island identify themselves firmly with their birthplace
and local dialects differ significantly, though I had to take
their word for this, as I managed only to learn the indispensable
phrases bon appetit and 'I love you'.
But perhaps the most obvious difference is that of religion.
Bali is the only Hindu island in Indonesia, though the culture is
shot through with animism. Temples abound along the roadside,
from the small ancestral ones of family homes to the large,
ornate village temples, all facing north-east in the direction of
the holy mountain.
Driving through Bali on our first day, we noticed that the
statues of the Hindu gods in the towns wore little skirts of
black and white checked material, which reminded me of the time
my granny knitted hats for the owls on her gatepost in winter,
but apparently this symbolizes the animist belief in the balance
of good and evil.
We spent a sticky, cloudy day in Bali trawling the craft
markets of Ubud, once a hippy haven and now a shopping center
(though not in the Brent Cross sense) for those who want to
haggle over the famous hand-made silver jewelry, local pearls and
silk sarongs.
This takes some practice: it's possible to spend half an hour
debating the last few thousand rupiah and getting quite irate
when they won't back down, before a bit of effortful mental
arithmetic reminds you that you're arguing over ten cents.
In the shade of the Njana Tilem Gallery, however, the
extraordinary woodcarvings of Bali's most famous artist, Ida
Bagus Tilem, sell for thousands of dollars to international
collectors; towering, intricate depictions of Rama and Sita
engulfed in flames, or a traditional fisherman hauling his catch
in a net, each strand of which is exquisitely worked in ebony,
hibiscus or frangipani. If you can't find the money, or the space
on your coffee table, there's a selection of smaller animals that
fit into your hand and cost only a few dollars.
By some meteorological quirk, the rainy season seemed to apply
exclusively to Bali, so that we arrived in Lombok in perfectly
tropical weather. (Another tip: don't stand on deck on the ferry
for two hours at midday with no sunscreen, however deceptively
cool the breeze. There is not much ozone round here and it will
hurt.)
The Oberoi Lombok is possibly the most romantic place in the
universe, and we understood immediately what John meant about the
island's calm; inside the resort you can hear only the birds and
the fountains, and on the roads you pass only pony carts and the
odd moped, carrying the villagers to work in the paddy fields and
cashew plantations. In the evenings, the calls of the muezzin
carry distantly across the bay from the mosque.
One of the advantages of staying at the Oberoi, apart from its
obvious luxury, is that you can choose the pace of your holiday.
We took a day trip to Sendaggita Waterfall, where the really
adventurous can take an overnight trek up Mount Rinjani, the
island's highest volcano (naturally, we didn't), and also visited
a traditional Sasak village. We spent a morning snorkeling with
giant turtles off the coast of the Gili Islands, and returned for
Indonesian massages at the health spa, and finished our stay with
a fresh seafood barbecue, with candlelit tables on the beach and
traditional performances by local dancers and musicians while you
eat.
Lombok experienced a brief dip in popularity after the riots
last year, but the hotels were not affected and we saw nothing to
suggest any disruption to the island's tranquility. This may
change eventually, though not because of political unrest. At the
moment there are restrictions on the building of resorts, and a
large proportion of the island's income is still from
agriculture.
But tourism is always more lucrative, and the construction of
a new golf course on the other side of the bay suggests that
developers may not be far behind. Lombok really is the most
unbelievably beautiful place on God's earth and, at the risk of
flooding it with visitors, I insist you go there immediately, in
case it should change in the future. Just remember to check your
passport.
-- Observer News Service