The gateway to the starkly beautiful islands of Indonesia’s Komodo National Park, Labuan Bajo and its surrounding countryside offer much more than offshore adventure, as a visit to this fast-emerging destination attests.

Photographs by Christopher P. Hill

Ta’aktana butler Hendrik Tarigan; Tapestries woven by local artisans decorate the bedrooms of the resort’s overwater villas. — *Left to right*: Hendrik Tarigan, a butler at Ta’aktana; tapestries woven by local artisans decorate the bedrooms of the same resort’s overwater villas.

Rambo was eyeing me with cold-blooded indifference. Sprawled listlessly in a dry streambed under the shade of a kesambi tree, the giant lizard didn’t appear particularly ferocious, but he was massive — almost three meters long from tail to snout. “Rambo is the largest dragon in Komodo National Park,” confirmed our wiry local guide, Bahari. Adjusting his grip on the forked stick he carries to ward off any troublesome reptiles, he added, “But don’t be fooled by his sleepy look. When he wants to, he can run at 20 kilometers per hour.” I promised to give the scaly behemoth a wide berth.

We were on the eastern Indonesian island of Komodo, not far from a hardscrabble village of the same name tucked in a sheltered bay on the southeast coast. Today, this rugged landscape of volcanic hills and savanna grasslands is the centerpiece of the UNESCO World Heritage–listed Komodo National Park, one of Indonesia’s key tourism draws. And it can thank the world’s largest living lizards for that. Locally know as ora, the Komodo dragon only became known to the outside world in the early 20th century, when a Dutch colonial officer stationed in the area reported the existence of a “land crocodile” to the Buitenzorg Botanical Garden in present-day Bogor, Java. That discovery provided the impetus for a 1926 expedition to Komodo Island led by the intrepid American naturalist William Douglas Burden, whose subsequent account of his adventures, Dragon Lizards of Komodo, was an inspiration for the 1933 movie King Kong.

While Komodo can certainly feel prehistoric when you’re staring down 150 kilos of carnivorous lizard, this is no longer the “lost world” described by Burden. It and the surrounding islands of the park — Rinca, Padar, and numerous smaller ones — are today a popular cruising ground, their coral–filled waters speckled with phinisi-style yachts and dive boats during the May–September dry season. And just an hour’s speedboat ride away on the west coast of the main island of Flores, the once-sleepy fishing village of Labuan Bajo has evolved into a busy regional hub, its airport recently upgraded to international status and its harbor backed by seafood stalls, restaurants, bars, and a growing number of hotels. Some 35 kilometers south of town on a hill overlooking Rinca Island is a shiny new convention center, Golo Mori, that served as a side venue for last year’s ASEAN Summit. Attended by government leaders from across Southeast Asia, the event served as a coming-out party of sorts for Labuan Bajo as one of Indonesia’s five “super priority” tourism destinations.

*Left to right*: A Komodo dragon; Ta’aktana at twilight.

A detail in one of the Ta’aktana Resort's suite; a hilltop view over Tanjung Pangaan, a cape to the north of Labuan Bajo. — *Left to right*: A detail in one of the suites at Ta’aktana; a *phinisi* boat anchored off Padar Island.

The recent opening of the town’s most upscale resort to date is another bellwether of things to come. Ta’aktana, meaning “green land” in the Manggarai language of western Flores, is the latest property in Marriott’s Luxury Collection of hotels. Overlooking an island-flanked bay just north of town, it occupies a sloping site with just 70 suites and villas spread across 16 hectares of tropical gardens. A sense of place is evident throughout — in artifacts from the surrounding province of East Nusa Tenggara, in bespoke glass chandeliers that evoke schools of fish and splashes of seawater, and in the spiderweb-like motif (a nod to the lingko, or circular rice terraces, found deep in the Manggarai countryside) that appears on soap dishes, sunhats, and even the round rooftops of the restaurant crowning the main guest wing.

Another distinguishing feature is the 350-meter-long jetty that stretches into the bay from the resort’s small beach. It’s here that the water-sports center and breezy main bar, Maiga!, are located, along with what are set to become Labuan Bajo’s most-coveted accommodations: seven circular overwater villas with sweeping sea views. I was staying in one of them, and I couldn’t have been more impressed; indeed, my only cause for complaint after checking in was the sudden desire to cancel all my tour plans, hang up the DO NOT DISTURB sign, and stay put. It wasn’t just the sleek fittings and spacious curving interiors and private butler service that struck me, but also eye-catching details like the tenun patterns of Manggarai weaving carved into doorframes or woven into carpets, and the gorgeous tapestry by local artisans that hung behind the bed. A semicircular terrace out front was fringed by hammock-like netting for sunbathing above the sea.

While the islands of Komodo National Park are Labuan Bajo’s main draw, numerous attractions lie inland as well. For those with the time and energy, the remote mountain village of Wae Rebo — a good four hour’s drive to the southeast, followed by a nine-kilometer trek — is a traditional Manggarai community known for its conical thatched houses, or mbaru niang, which sit like haystacks on a misty highland plateau. I opted for the more proximate dose of culture on offer at Melo, just 45 minutes by car from the resort. The winding drive took us through a green quilt of farmland, passing grazing cows and the occasional church — unlike most of Indonesia’s predominantly Muslim population, the people of Flores largely adhere to Catholicism, first introduced by Portuguese missionaries in the 16th century.

*Left to right*: A caci dancer at the hilltop village of Melo; a view over Tanjung Pangaan, a cape to the north of Labuan Bajo.

At the hilltop village of Melo, a much deeper strain of Manggarai culture was on display. After a welcome ceremony in a stilted wooden house accompanied by quids of betel and shots of sopi, the local firewater, we followed the headman down to a field to take in a demonstration of whip fighting. Called caci, the duel saw a pair of bare-chested men with leather shields and flat-topped helmets that curled up at the back like buffalo horns dance around each other in ritual combat, taking turns to strike out at their opponent with a rattan whip. An ancient form of conflict resolution between villages, caci fights are still staged in Manggarai villages during harvest festivals and ceremonies. But while the bout put on for us was a tourist show, the cracks of the whips sounded authentic enough.

On the way back to the coast, we stopped at Rumah Tenun Baku Peduli, a community-based weaving gallery and workshop set at the edge of a stretch of rice fields. The brainchild of local NGO Sunspirit for Justice and Peace, the center is dedicated to preserving regional textile traditions. “It’s more important than ever to conserve our culture,” said the manager as she showed us the ingredients used to make natural dyes: mahogany bark, turmeric, betelnut, indigo leaves. “The economic development of Labuan Bajo over the past two decades has been a challenge for the traditional way of life here.” In the workshop, a weaver was busy at her handloom creating an intricately patterned sarong. It’s a task that can take two months.

Out back, Sunspirit also maintains a model farm that encourages the use of natural fertilizers and local seed stocks, “to help keep us connected to our roots,” explained the manager. Just up the road, a similar ethos is found at Dapur Tara. Operated by a farm stay, the rustic restaurant champions traditional cooking over firewood in dishes such as smoked chicken and nasi kolo (bamboo rice).

A waitress outside Umasa, the pan-Indonesian restaurant at Ta’aktana; poached Flores Strait lobster at the resort’s Umasa restaurant. — *Left to right*: A waitress outside Umasa, the pan-Indonesian restaurant at Ta’aktana; poached Flores Strait lobster at the restaurant.

All this seems a world away from Labuan Bajo, with its thickening veneer of tourism. A new waterfront shopping complex houses a Starbucks and a KFC. In the sunbaked plaza of the town’s redeveloped marina area, not far from an old Dutch-built lighthouse, I saw a group of headscarved Indonesian ladies strike up a Zumba session in front of a boombox. Back on the main street, a sleek American-owned bar named Copper Bon net wouldn’t look out of place in Bali’s Seminyak. L+, located at the foot of a pier below a hillside hotel designed like a Santorini village, is a recently opened outpost of Melbourne-inspired Japanese café chain Latte Graphic. At the end of the pier, another popular restaurant, Le Bajo Flores, comes with chill tunes and a tropical-beach vibe. Business was brisk. When I asked a barman about his predictions for Labuan Bajo, he said, “Give it 10 years, and it’ll be like Bali.

That might be hard to imagine of a place that is essentially a stopover for trips to Komodo, but luxury resorts like Ta’aktana are giving people reason to linger. Apart from a range of off-site activities, Ta’aktana offers thoughtfully curated experiences on its grounds. One afternoon I joined a sopi masterclass in a pavilion whose cone-shaped thatched roof takes its cues from the houses of Wae Rebo. The tasting session began with a rough-and-ready sopi made from palm sap in a traditional bamboo still — Andreas, the barman, called it “Manggarai mezcal” — before graduating to more refined versions of the spirit. Then came a cocktail-making class, the star of which was a concoction called the Sopi Smash, muddled with lemon basil, apple slices, and lemongrass syrup.

Another day, I learned more about a different beverage at the nearby Coffee Hub, the resort’s on-site roastery. Arabica beans are grown at several sites in the highlands of Flores, and guests can sample them all here, from a honey-processed Sokoria from the volcanic slopes of Mount Kelimutu, to a rare varietal called yellow caturra that imparts a fruity flavor to the coffee. Caffeine aficionados will love the place.

Coffee grounds also make an appearance in a body wrap at the spa, while other local ingredients inform the menus at the resort’s three restaurants. Taba, a rooftop grill, wasn’t yet open during my stay, but between Leros, an all-day affair with a rippling silver ceiling and a to-die-for egg dish topped with Flores Strait lobster and salmon roe — and Umasa, I was kept well fed. Located just off the beach, the latter is a pan-Indonesian restaurant helmed by West Sumatran chef Julio Petrus, who delivers a fine edit of the country’s favorite dishes. His tuna gohu — a ceviche-like specialty of the Maluku Islands — is a knockout, as is a succulent poached lobster served with sauteed cassava leaves and sambal luat, a lime-infused chili paste from Timor. I had dinner there twice, each time walking back to my villa along the pier via a nightcap at Maiga!, where guests lingered long after sundowner hour.

*Left to right*: Ta’aktana’s glass chandelier evokes a school of fish; a jetty leads to Ta’aktana’s Maiga! bar and overwater villas.

*Left to right*: Approaching Padar Island in Komodo National Park; the jetty at Padar Island.

Of course, a day of island-hopping was also on my agenda. Before dawn, I joined a group in one of the resort’s rigid inflatable boats for the crossing to Komodo National Park. On board with me was Mochammad Agastha, Ta’aktana’s marine specialist, who took the opportunity to discuss his plans for coral propagation in the waters fronting the resort as the rising sun colored the sky behind us. Our first stop was Padar Island, some 50 kilometers to the southwest of Labuan Bajo. A pod of dolphins greeted our arrival. Even at this early hour, we were not alone; the outlook over the island’s sandy coves and craggy, treeless peaks from the viewpoint atop its southernmost arm is an Instagram magnet, and the half-dozen phinisi boats anchored overnight in the bay had already disgorged their passengers for the sunrise climb. We followed them up 800 or so concrete steps built into the ridgeline, reaching the summit just in time to see more boatloads of day-trippers starting up the trail below us.

Later, after encountering Rambo and some smaller if more energetic dragons on Komodo proper, we motored back to Padar’s west coast and pulled up to a gorgeous stretch of sand called Pink Beach. The name is accurate: Agastha explained that its color comes from the billions of fragments of crushed red organ pipe coral that have washed ashore over the eons. At a hut overseen by a lady from Komodo Village, we fueled up on instant noodles and fresh coconuts before heading into the crystalline water for a snorkel. In stark contrast to the park’s arid landscapes, the aquarium-like coral gardens below us teemed with vibrant life. I flippered along in wonder as multicolored triggerfish darted between sponges and feathery sea fans, clownfish peeking out at me from the tentacles of anemones.

*Left to right*: Padar Island’s Pink Beach; a new pier-top restaurant in Labuan Bajo.

Heading back to the mainland, the boat passed a photogenic whisp of a sandbar known as Taka Makassar, which seemed ready to sink under the weight of a couple dozen selfie-takers. At an outcrop called Kelor Island, we stopped to watch baby reef sharks swimming in the shallows.

Later that evening, a team of chefs prepared a private dinner on the terrace of my villa. As the scent of grilling seafood mingled with the salty breeze, I sipped a glass of pinot gris and watched the orange sun dip into the Flores Sea. Somewhere out there, night was descending over the islands where dragons still roam, even as the lights of Labuan Bajo’s boat-filled harbor flickered to life. This once-remote corner of Indonesia may no longer be the “lost world” visited a century ago by William Douglas Burden, but I was happy to have found it all the same.

Overlooking Labuan Bajo’s busy harbor; bells worn by a caci dancer in Melo. — *Left to right*: Overlooking Labuan Bajo’s busy harbor; bells worn by a *caci* dancer in Melo.

Coming to Komodo

GETTING THERE

While AirAsia Malaysia will begin a Kuala Lumpur–Labuan Bajo service in September, the town’s Komodo International Airport is otherwise limited to flights from Jakarta, Bali, and other domestic destinations.

WHEN TO GO

Komodo National Park welcomes tourists throughout the year, though the weather is best during the dry season from May to September.

WHERE TO STAY

Ta’aktana, a Luxury Collection Resort & Spa, Labuan Bajo; from US$510 a night.

This article originally appeared in the August/September 2024 print issue of DestinAsian magazine (“Dragons at Your Doorstep”).

A New Look at Labuan Bajo