Words by James Louie
Photographs by Martin Westlake
August 12, 2026

On the surf-happy Indonesian island of Rote, a new beachfront resort mixes laid-back luxury and adventure with a mission to empower local youths and lay the foundations for their future growth.

Beside a beach villa’s pool at Nihi Rote and Hospitality Academy; sugar-tapper Jermias Sanggu climbs one of his lontar palms. — *Left to right:* Beside a beach villa’s pool at Nihi Rote and Hospitality Academy; sugar-tapper Jermias Sanggu climbs one of his *lontar* palms.

Standing barefoot in a forest clearing, sugar-tapper Jermias Sanggu is eager to start a decades-old routine at his family’s lontar palm grove. The rays of the morning sun are bathing the treetops in golden light, and I follow him as he weaves his way through the bushes to the nearest palm, avoiding the thick black husks of lontar fruit strewn across the ground. Twice a day, he climbs over a dozen trees to collect sap from the flower stalks dangling high above our heads. “I’ve been doing this since 1986, when I was in elementary school,” he says while flashing a betel-stained grin. Armed with tools and a palm-leaf bucket tied to ropes around his waist, Sanggu waits for the rest of the group to catch up. Then he’s off. Agile, sure-footed, and with the grace of an acrobat, the 54-year-old scales the trunk from its base to the tree’s soaring crown in 20 seconds flat.

Rote, Sanggu’s remote island home, is also moving up, albeit at a far gentler pace. Epic waves have drawn surfers to this sparsely populated corner of eastern Indonesia for decades: T-Land, one of the country’s longest left-hand reef breaks, lies just off the beachside village of Nemberala, where a smattering of cafés, restaurants, and boutique surf retreats cater to visitors. The boom in multistory village churches attests to the relative prosperity of the largely Protestant populace; one especially exuberant example near Nemberala rises from what resembles a ship’s hull. The island’s diminutive airport, upgraded nine years ago with a longer runway and a new terminal, receives turboprop planes from Kupang on nearby Timor, itself a two-hour flight east of Bali.

I’ve come here with Jakarta-based photographer Martin Westlake, who backpacked around Rote (pronounced “ro-tay”) in 1991. “It’s really modernized,” he says as we pass a clutch of tin-roofed concrete homes. “When I was last here 35 years ago, all the villages had thatched houses. And there were no big churches.” The bigger news these days, however, is the arrival of Nihi Rote and Hospitality Academy. Soft-opened in April along Bo’a Beach, a kilometer-long sweep of cream-hued sand near the island’s southern tip, it hosts 21 pool villas and looks out to Bo’a Barrel, a powerful right-hander that rumbles as it breaks along the reef, sea spray peeling off its crest.

I’m curious to see how the brand-new resort weaves Rotenese culture into the DNA of its elder sibling on the much larger Indonesian island of Sumba. Originally known as Nihiwatu, Nihi Sumba began as an off-grid surf retreat in 2000; a multistage expansion following its acquisition 12 years later by South African hotelier James McBride and American billionaire Chris Burch catapulted Sumba into the global spotlight. Nihi made waves with its particular blend of barefoot luxury and raw adventure, as well as a knack for creating out-of-the-box experiences such as equine wellness treatments.

To my surprise, Nihi Rote doesn’t take after the rugged, more isolated character of its world-famous sibling. “Nihi Sumba has got a whole different vibe,” McBride tells me over the phone. “To me, Rote is more like Fiji or a little Caribbean-esque. You’ve got the frangipanis, you’ve got churches, you’ve got beautiful gardens. You can go outside and have a cappuccino somewhere; you can have paella from a Spanish chef. So it’s a much softer place to live.”

McBride was brought on board during the pandemic, when the resort’s group of owners, led by surf-obsessed Californian “adventure capitalist” Michael B. Schwab and his college friend Greg Sarkissian, sought the veteran hotelier’s guidance on the long-gestating project. It would take six years of extensive landscaping to transform a barren stretch of sand into what the Nihi Hotels CEO envisioned as an “oleander paradise,” and he advised Schwab to acquire the remaining land on Bo’a Beach while construction progressed. Then McBride had an unorthodox idea. “I said, ‘Let’s build a hospitality academy in the middle. And that’s where people will check in.’ I think they thought I was a little bit crazy, because it went against the model for luxury hotels or resorts.”

But philanthropy has always been part of the Nihi story. The Sumba Foundation, established in 2001, funnels guest donations into alleviating poverty and improving healthcare on the island. For Rote, McBride and the owners took inspiration from the nonprofit Sumba Hospitality Foundation, which runs a bamboo-built eco-resort as a training hotel. The fledgling Rote Hospitality Academy graduated its third batch of students a month before our visit; it now hosts weekly culture nights featuring storytelling and Rotenese dances around a firepit, followed by a long-table dinner in a breezy pavilion.

*Left to right:* Nihi Rote’s Ume Bo’a villas are centered on canopied beds; a bird’s-eye view of the resort and Bo’a Beach.

*Left to right:* Rote Hospitality Academy director Nora Bawazier; a breakfast tray on a poolside daybed at Nihi Rote.

Inside the new office she shares with two teachers, the academy’s Jakarta-born director, Nora Bawazier, recounts the challenges she faced in 2024, when the campus was a construction site. “I sent a message out to my network: ‘I need teachers who are willing to come with me to a remote island. There is no classroom, no LCD, nothing—just palm trees and some benches.’” Bawazier was already teaching by then, and her team developed a year-long curriculum covering not only English and the fundamentals of hospitality, but also character building, basic water safety, and event management.

“The aim is that local kids will benefit and become the hosts of their island,” Bawazier adds. She singles out Hadzrat Alam Ghiri Dhiemar, a 21-year-old new graduate who goes by the name Cherish. “I’ve really seen him blossom. At the beginning, he was so shy he would hide behind a pillar whenever we took group photos in class. Now he’s leading tours as a guide.”

One morning, Martin and I set out in one of Nihi’s safari cars to the mixed Christian-Muslim fishing village of Oeseli, where Cherish’s family has lived for nine generations. We clamber aboard a Zodiac bound for Telaga Nirwana, an improbably beautiful saltwater lagoon enclosed by mangroves and wooded karst hillsides. While Cherish leads Martin up a trail from its lonely jetty to a viewpoint, I take to the placid ultramarine waters in a kayak, paddling past a submerged heart-shaped rock and into the mangrove-lined channel linking the lagoon to the sea. Juvenile fish stream through the shallows on the incoming tide.

I soon realize the Academy graduates are my bridge to the island’s distinct lontar culture. Meldi Novita Nenogasu, one of the two guest captains assigned to us, tells me more as we stroll along a sandy pathway back at the resort. “The lontar is our tree of life. From the tip of the leaves to the roots, everything can be used.” Indeed, the drought-resistant palm is a source of sustenance: its translucent, jelly-like seeds are edible, while the nutrient-rich sap can be processed into sugar, vinegar, and sopi, the local moonshine. The robust trunk and dried fronds also serve as building materials, as evinced by my lontar-thatched beachfront villa.

Inside, beneath the cathedral ceiling, Sumbanese ikat wall hangings and bamboo-framed armchairs align in a calming blue-and-white palette. I’m buoyed by the sense of space: the shower booth alone is nearly the size of my bathroom in Jakarta, while the deck merges with the frangipani-scented garden, where an infinity pool gleams in the midday sun and a rustic pergola shelters a daybed. Rotenese design details are found both inside and out. The decorative backdrop to the outdoor bathtub echoes the permeable bebak walls of traditional dwellings; behind the canopied bed at the villa’s heart, cabinets feature carvings of the sasando, a harp-like musical instrument with a semicircular resonator fashioned from lontar leaves.

*Left to right:* A group of Nihi staffers who graduated from the Rote Hospitality Academy; lontar jelly stars in a Greek watermelon salad at the resort’s Nammo Beach Club.

*Left to right:* A Rotenese surfer; dense mangrove thickets flank the narrow channel to Telaga Nirwana lagoon on Rote’s south coast.

Lontar artisan Hance Pah in a ti’i langga hat he made; lontar leaves being woven into a ti’i langga’s crown. — *Left to right:* Lontar artisan Hance Pah in a *ti’i langga* hat he made; lontar leaves being woven into a ti’i langga’s crown.

That Rotenese icon is a focus of an afternoon outing to meet Hance Pah, a 61-year-old lontar artisan and sasando musician. On the terrace of his village house, we admire half-finished instruments and wide-brimmed ti’i langga hats. Meldi hands me the frame of a sasando he’s making. “This is called a haik. It’s the same shape as the bucket used to collect lontar sap,” she says. Holding the lightweight haik in both hands, I breathe in its soft, grassy scent. Pah fears the sasando is slowly being forgotten by younger generations, and has wisely passed on his craft and musical know-how to Andri, his 29-year-old son.

The elder Pah then talks us through the ti’i langga, worn to welcome guests and a common sight at traditional ceremonies in Rote Ndao Regency, which comprises Rote and a few small offshore islands. Running his fingers over the braided strips of lontar leaf beneath the brim, the craftsman explains its philosophy: “These represent the people of Rote Ndao, who stand together as equals, hand in hand, to protect the islands with an unbreakable bond of love for one another.” The hat’s distinctive plume, he continues, reminds the wearer that “no one is higher than God.” We also learn the ti’i langga symbolizes mutual acceptance. “When a guest arrives and wears it, they become one with the people of Rote Ndao.”

At Nihi Rote, general manager Kenny Knickerbocker reveals that the resort’s philanthropic initiatives will extend beyond free training at the Academy. Plans are afoot to establish a conservation center for the critically endangered Rote Island snake-necked turtle, and other programs are being developed alongside a growing lineup of guest facilities—padel and pickleball courts, a pump track, and an entertainment area with a golf simulator. When it opens in October, the spa will offer equine wellness experiences that may include sunset meditations with small Rotenese ponies. “I think what makes it exciting is that it’s not baked from day one. It’s a journey,” McBride had told me. “Just as in Nihi Sumba, not everything was built overnight.”

Also gearing up for an October debut are the main Savu restaurant and a surf lounge beside a long sea-facing pool. In the meantime, meals are served at Nammo Beach Club, where Alsatian executive chef William Weiss and his kitchen team grill sustainably sourced ingredients over a coconut-wood fire. Martin and I share a butterflied rainbow runner weighing more than a kilo, rubbed with local spices and served with two kinds of sambal. “It’s simple food, but executed properly: well-seasoned, with flavors on point, and with good produce,” Weiss beams.

*Left to right:* Outdoor tables at Nammo Beach Club; grilled octopus with baba ghanoush at the same venue.

*Left to right:* A surfer on Bo’a Beach; tools for harvesting lontar sap.

Outside the resort, one breakfast unfolds on the terrace at Sardine Beach Rote, a three-bungalow retreat overlooking a wild, windswept bay. Its semi-retired owners—Burgundian chef Pascal Chevillot and his wife, Slovenian interior designer Pika—moved here from Bali in late 2020 after selling their Sardine restaurant in Seminyak. Pascal’s Filipino beef tapa is delicious, but I’m most intrigued by the lontar palm syrup, which smells like brandy when I lift a spoonful to my nose. “It has a distinct flavor,” Pascal says. “I would say the closest thing would be maple syrup.” With a honey-like consistency and woody caramel notes, it’s even more complex than its Canadian counterpart. After that first sip, I’m determined to see the syrup-making process for myself.

Which is how Martin and I end up at the palm grove of Jermias Sanggu, just a 20-minute drive from the resort. Sanggu’s niece, Yensi, who works at Nihi, offers me some milky, frothy sap from a lontar-leaf drinking vessel. Unlike the concentrated syrup, it’s reminiscent of a light kombucha. Our young driver, Revival “Rivo” Samuel Endey, tells me its flavor depends on the weather. “It tastes sweeter when harvested in the afternoon and in the dry season,” he says. “This morning’s sap has sourness from the dew and last night’s rain.”

We watch the fresh sap simmer in stainless-steel pots over a wood-fired stove, cooking down for two hours until it thickens to a deep caramel brown. Nothing goes to waste: Yensi’s mother, Maria, ladles the foam into a bucket for pig feed. I’m surprised to learn that lontar palms grow relatively slowly. Recalling one planted near his house, Rivo holds out a hand as he crouches low to the ground. “When I was a small boy, the tree came up to here. Fifteen years later, it was less than two meters high.”

Like a young lontar palm, the Rote Hospitality Academy requires nurturing and patience to bear fruit. Housing is now being built with the goal of enrolling students from Timor-Leste come 2027, with the support of President José Ramos-Horta, an honorary patron. As the school grows, it will pave the way for young Rotenese to further their careers elsewhere in Indonesia and perhaps even abroad. Bawazier hopes they never forget their roots. “If one day a student comes back to lead the resort as the general manager, for me and the other teachers, making that full circle would be the dream.”

One of Nihi Rote’s Ume Bo’a villas at dusk; a Rotenese dancer from a vocational school wearing a bulak molik crown, habas necklace, and ikat shawl. — *Left to right:* One of Nihi Rote’s Ume Bo’a villas at dusk; a Rotenese dancer from a vocational school wearing a *bulak molik* crown, *habas* necklace, and *ikat* shawl.

Surfers are drawn to Rote’s uncrowded waves; a pandanus tree at Nihi Rote. — *Left to right:* Surfers are drawn to the island’s uncrowded waves; a pandanus tree at Nihi Rote.

Sun loungers on the sand outside Nammo Beach Club at Nihi Rote and Hospitality Academy in eastern Indonesia. — Sun loungers on the sand outside Nammo Beach Club.

Until October 19, villas at Nihi Rote and Hospitality Academy are priced from US$500 per night for a minimum of three nights, including full board, selected activities, and round- trip airport transfers.

This article originally appeared in the August/September 2026 print issue of DestinAsian magazine (“Upward Momentum”). Buy a single issue or subscribe here.

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