Bali-fication comes for a laidback surfers’ island

One of the best surf guides on the Indonesian island of Lombok, Damar feels right at home taking tourists out to sea.

With his fluency in English and easy banter, you’d never guess what he feared as a child: aliens.

“When I was 10 or maybe 7 years old, I would cry and pee my pants when I saw white people,” Damar, now 39, tells the BBC.

This shyness diminished as the sleepy island he called home slowly gained popularity among Western travelers.

To the east of Bali, Lombok boasts the same blue beaches and stunning views as its famous neighbour, but without the angry crowds. Lombok’s beaches remain a hidden gem among surfers, as is Mount Rinjani for hikers. Travel websites still use the word “untouched” to describe the island because it offers reasons to venture beyond Bali.

So, it’s no surprise that the Indonesian government sensed an opportunity to create another lucrative tourist haven on the sprawling archipelago.

The mission is to create more ‘balis’ – and Lombok will be one of them.

For the islanders, this promise of “Balification” is a good opportunity but they are also wary of what it brings.

Change has already begun to take effect in more than one way.

Mandalika in the south has been chosen as the heart of the “New Bali”.

Its rural coastline has already given way to resorts, quaint cafes and even a racetrack. Earlier this month, nearly 150,000 spectators turned out to watch the MotoGP Grand Prix.

Between 2019 and 2021, dozens of families were evicted from their village homes to build the Mandalika Circuit. Damar was among them.

Facing what activists described as a chaotic resettlement plan and unfair compensation, Damar recalls, he and his neighbors were helpless.

“I was angry, but I couldn’t do much. I couldn’t fight against the government,” he says.

Since the eviction, Damar has bought a plot of land and built his own house, something many of his neighbors have been unable to do. As a surf guide, he estimates he earns twice as much as a fisherman, a profession that passes through generations in his community.

“I never went to school, so joining the tourism industry was one of the best choices I ever made,” Damar says. “Meeting so many people from so many different countries…it opened my mind.”

Damar’s exasperation over his expulsion even comes with a stark warning: “I’m not mad at the tourists. I’m just mad at my government.”

The campaign to transform Lombok is part of a broader effort to lure travelers away from Bali, which for decades has played a large role in Indonesia’s tourism industry.

The island makes up less than 1% of the country’s land area and less than 2% of its population of 280 million. However, last year it represented nearly half of all visitors to Indonesia.

But Bali’s increasingly incessant traffic and pollution – a direct result of its success as a top tourist pick – are leaving these tourists disillusioned with what has long been described as “the last paradise”.

As it turns out, that elusive paradise is just an hour away by boat.

But maybe not for long.

The number of travelers attracted by the attraction of Lombok is increasing. Last year, 81,500 foreign tourists arrived at Bali Airport, a 40% increase on the previous year – a far cry from the 6.3 million foreigners who flocked to Bali.

Eager for Lombok to follow Bali’s example, the Indonesian authorities were able to secure hundreds of millions of dollars in investments, in addition to a $250 million loan from the Asian Infrastructure Investment Bank.

This has accelerated the island’s transformation.

In Kuta, a popular town in Mandalika, rundown surfer hostels have been replaced by a mosaic of chlorine-filled swimming pools, plush sunbeds, and an international school for expatriate children.

While authorities hail it as a Lombok success story, some see it as a cautionary tale.

A stone’s throw from Tanjung Aan Beach, café owner Kartini Lumban Raja told the BBC that locals there “don’t want to be as organized as Kuta”.

“When beaches become like Kuta’s beaches, they lose their charm. We lose opportunities. We lose natural beauty,” she said.

For months, rumors of evictions have circulated in the Tanjung An area, which was earmarked for ambitious development plans.

Days after the BBC’s visit in July, it came like a surging wave.

Security forces descended on the beach to demolish nearly 200 stalls, including Kartini’s stall.

Videos from that day show masked men tearing down store walls with their bare hands while stall owners protested.

“They were hitting things and kicking the plywood… It’s really inhumane,” stall owner Ella Norlela told the BBC. “Oh my God, that eviction was so tough.”

The state-owned company leading the Mandalika tourism drive, InJourney Tourism Development Corporation (ITDC), has secured 2.1 trillion rupiah ($128 million; £96 million) to build a luxury hotel in Tanjung An.

Authorities said the project would create job opportunities and boost the local economy. But that’s little consolation to stall owners like Ella and her husband, Adi, who have sold coconuts and coffee on the beach for the past three years.

“Thousands of people here depend on [coastal land] “For their livelihood,” Uday said. “Where are we supposed to go to earn a living?”

The couple said they paid taxes for their stall, which, according to Uday, is located on land owned by his parents.

But ITDC representatives told the BBC that Tanjung An is “state-owned land” and that the tax paid by those companies “does not equate to legal ownership or legitimacy of the land”.

This is just the latest wave of tensions over the tourism push in Mandalika.

Just Finance International, a development finance watchdog, has repeatedly pointed to a “pattern of rights violations linked to the Mandalika Project” in recent years.

UN human rights experts estimate that more than 2,000 people “lost their basic means of livelihood overnight” due to the evictions in Tanjung An. They said in a statement in August that the stall owners had not received “adequate notice” nor “adequate” relocation plans.

“The Mandalika people should not be sacrificed for a project that promises economic growth at the expense of human rights,” they said.

In its pursuit of a markedly different future, Lombok will also have to grapple with what this means for the local culture.

The predominantly Muslim island is home to thousands of mosques and the indigenous Sasak ethnic group. Compared to Bali, alcohol is not readily available in parts of the island. On travel forums, tourists are encouraged to ditch their bikinis and hot pants for more modest clothing.

Such conservative sensibilities may change, or at least be pushed inland, as tourism heats up along the coast. Travelers who loved Lombok are not happy about it either.

“Lombok is very special because it still has its own nature and people come to see that,” said Swiss tourist Basil Berger, a skeptic of the island’s “Balinese flair.”

“If they want to see Bali, they should [should] “Go to Bali,” he said, adding that turning Lombok into another Bali “is the worst thing they can do.”

There are also environmental concerns. Last year’s motorcycle Grand Prix attracted 120,000 spectators in Mandalika, leaving behind 30 tonnes of rubbish that authorities struggled to remove.

“Before you reach the development stage in Bali, you can learn from Lombok,” says Sekar Utami Setastuti, who lives in Bali. “Because they show the same kind of tension.”

She adds that the government must ensure that “tourism development brings well-being to many people, rather than just bringing tourists to Lombok.” “Lombok has to find its own identity, and not only [become] Bali is less crowded.”

No matter where this search leads, a new era has dawned in Lombok.

Andrew Irwin is among the foreign investors who took an early interest in Lombok’s emerging tourism. The American is the co-owner of LMBK Surf House, one of Mandalika’s most popular surf camps.

In his view, companies like his help lift up local employees and their families.

“It gives people more opportunities to earn more money, send their kids to the right school, get the right insurance, get the right health care, and basically live a better quality of life,” he said.

Although “there’s not necessarily a lot one can do” about the changing landscape in Lombok, he says, “We can only hope for a positive change in the equation.”

Tourism has certainly brought prosperity to the lives of many locals, who have decided to try entrepreneurship.

“As long as you want to work, you will make money from tourism,” says Bayik Enida Kenang Lari, a homeowner in Kuta, known to her guests as Lara. Her neighbors also started staying with families.

Lara started her business in 2014 with four rooms. It is now 14 years old, not counting the separate villa under construction.

As excited as she is about her prospects, she’s also a little sad when she remembers her life before the hustle.

“It’s hard to find time to gather and see everyone,” she says. “That’s what we miss. We feel like time goes by too quickly because we’re busy.”

This sentiment is sure to be shared by locals from Bali to Mykonos to Cancun, whenever tourism takes off in their patch of paradise: “I miss the past, but we love money.”