Since I had a very intense, insightful, enlightening experience years ago, and Sumbawa last year gave me a strong urge to visit again, I decided to return to Rote as part of my Indo bucket list journey.
I heard it’d changed; more and more surfers are choosing it over the overcrowded Bali, developments and villa building are happening, and the (surf) season is pretty packed compared to Covid or pre-Covid times. I stuck to my plan and did my best to keep an open eye, an open mind, and a closed mouth. Until now.

What’s worth knowing about Rote from a (foreign) tourist perspective is that it’s well known by surfers (mainly Australians who’ve been coming here for 30+ years), but it doesn’t offer many surfable breaks (altogether maybe 5-7). So despite the size of the island, the interest concentrates in one tiny part and one village only – namely Nemberala. The rest is the unchanged home of the Rotanese people: very local life as usual, kinda isolated, and you won’t even see other bule driving around.
For some reason, people have monointerests and don’t give a damn about exploring what the island has to offer. They stay stuck in their tiny, one-surf-break, resort life with flat whites bubble. For me personally, it’s boring, and while I understand some have limited time and access to surf and want to maximize it, headlines like Rote is the new Bali sound infuriating. Why? Because it’s all about new-age colonization, with zero fucks given about the local environment, people, or culture. It doesn’t integrate and melt in; it only overtakes and suppresses.

Surfing is expensive, especially in remote locations and when a boat transfer is needed to reach the break points. It all adds up to a high-end-priced experience, and I get it. There’s nothing wrong on paper with building businesses to serve the needs of the guests, but why do the original inhabitants of the island come out on the short end? When starving locals meet Nihi tourism, I have way too many questions. I’m not a business owner (only talked to a few), but I still can see many opportunities that could lead to long-term, win-win cooperation with local communities. There may be some deals in the background, but when Russians and Chinese buy the majority of the land, I have no high hopes.

Modern gentrification is blooming worldwide – no news there. I just stay long term in this particular country, so I have the most exposure to it here, and watching the Indonesian islands being sold off one after another, are by are, doesn’t paint a bright future. Opportunists found available land on Rote too, and some have already started to develop the village. Currently, the island seems to be positioned somewhere between the casual Sumbawa surf camps and the Sumba luxury resorts. At least in terms of prices, because the amenities are basic and behind – reality feels different from photos, and everything’s overpriced based on the good ol’ rule of being too far.

Yes, I have an unsolicited opinion. I pride myself on having seen more of the country than 95% of foreigners, and all these years, travels, and observations of how people with money ultimately ruin the land we all live on leave me with an exponentially growing disgust. Why do some feel the need for ownership? Why can’t they go to places and enjoy them without the urge to buy land and start the hundredth very same (creativity is strongly lacking) resort, villa, or café? Everyone wants a part of paradise, but this materialistic ownership mentality is what ultimately kills the idyll they’re so keen to own.

Humanity doesn’t treat the planet well, doesn’t treat each other well, and I’m a firm believer that it won’t – or shouldn’t – go on much longer this way. And there must be something about Rote that made me introspective and contemplative after both of my visits instead of writing a casual travel blog post. I feel disturbed, appreciative, but not thrilled to be here, despite it being one of those places that’ll blow you away with magical forests, powsugar sunsets, white-sand beaches, and all shades of blue in the ocean – whether you surf, snorkel, or just float.

To add something travely to my Rote experience: Narrow still has great food, so does Sagarika, and the mainstream hub, The Pasar (overpriced, but at least tasty).
I had my beach days, tanning, sunset watching, and also the chance to catch up with Derek (that old man with crazy stories), but I like the rainy season more. The first time I came in March, which was pure perfection: no wind, clean beaches, some rain at night, but sunny days and gorg sunsets.. oh, and no crowds, because very few people come for no surf. Dry season (June-September) means strong southern winds blowing through the entire island, bringing all the dirt and trash into the bays, along with surfers, and higher prices.

And finally, how do I feel about my short, two-day visit this time? I’m at peace and okay to leave the country soon.