ASIA PACIFIC EDITION : Not Bali. . .Better : The Indonesian Isle of Lombok Has a Languorous, Old Asia Feel That Its Famous Neighbor Has Partly Lost

I am from time to time struck by acute nostalgia for the old Southeast Asia. What has not already vanished is fast vanishing. I remember mirror-bright paddy fields fringed by shaggy palm trees; soft air heavy with spices; torrents of flying fish soaring over blue waves. I also remember long, languorous afternoons sometimes shattered by lightning flaring across the violet dusk of the tropics. The memories make me long then for the easeful, unhurried world that has largely been supplanted by the dynamic new Asia, a world of flashing computers, crammed jetliners and ebullient industrialization.

I have just found a cure for such yearning, a rough paradise not unlike the romantic Far East as portrayed by Joseph Conrad and Somerset Maugham: always mysterious and ineffably gorgeous.

It is an island called Lombok, which means “chili pepper” in Indonesian. But in the local language, the natives say, it also means “straight as a road” and, therefore, “honest.” Its 1,774 square miles and 2.3 million people lie some 50 miles east of the Indonesian archipelago’s most famous island, supremely beautiful yet sadly overdeveloped Bali. Lombok is still old Asia--and will remain so for a time, despite the ominous recent opening of two supermarkets.

The island was first described in English by Alfred Russel Wallace, the great naturalist who shaped the theory of evolution with Charles Darwin. Lombok has changed less in the 136 years since Wallace’s visit than has Bali in the 30-odd years since my first visit there. On Lombok you know how it was in the old days--not just the early 20th Century, but the 19th.

The palms still cluster thick on the foothills of Mt. Rinjani, which, at 12,300 feet, is the second-highest peak on Indonesia’s 13,700-odd islands. Hundreds of open stalls in the medieval open market, which is Indonesia’s second-largest, offer a splendid diversity of goods, from dried fish to silver cups. The market draws customers not merely from Lombok, but from the chain of green islands that stretch some 1,500 miles to the east: Flores, the realm of flowers, Ambon, the old pirate base, and Komodo, where the dragons live.

Japanese-made minivans called bemo now ply the roads for hire in West Lombok. But there are also hundreds of cidomo , brightly painted, two-wheeled carriages drawn by the small native ponies, which trot smartly, apparently impervious to the heat. Beside newly paved roads, lustrous brown cattle with inquisitive eyes ruminate, left in peace because they are sacrosanct--until slaughtered for beef or sacrificed for divine favor. Balinese main roads are now too busy for sacred cows, and the back lanes are cluttered with shops catering to tourists.

The terminal of Lombok’s Selaparang Airport is single-story, not much more than a big shed despite the recent addition of a brown tile roof. Travelers who make the 20-minute flight from Bali in diminutive turboprop Fokker 27s may, however, see an Indonesian Air Force Boeing 737 landing, having found pressing reasons for an “essential duty visit.” The terminal of Bali’s Ngurah Rai Airport, where 74 flights land or take off each day in the off- season, juts disconcertingly in many directions. Two-storied under a red tile roof, it is constantly expanding to accommodate increasing traffic. The morning I flew over to Lombok, scores of German electronics dealers were landing on Bali on an incentive tour sponsored by Toshiba.

Lombok entrepreneurs exploit those differences, luring visitors with slogans. “You can seeBali in Lombok, but you can’t see Lombok in Bali.” “Twenty minutes and a million miles from Bali.” They are not restrained by fear that their success could make parts of Lombok just as crowded and artificial as parts of Bali.

Nonetheless, it is only fair to note: Bali itself is still fascinating, and some developments are pleasing.

Nusa Dua (Twin Islands), north of the normal tourist area on the east coast of Bali, is a well-designed, low-built, red-roofed complex whose artistry transcends artificiality. I found the most attractive hotels to be the Nusa Dua Beach, run by Garuda, Indonesia’s obliging national airline, and the cumbersomely named Sheraton Lagoon Nusa Dua Beach, which is imaginatively built around a chain of artificial lagoons.

Development exacts a heavy toll elsewhere. Yet the government has just lifted the ban on new construction, which was never strictly observed.

Construction, light industry and visitors have depleted the water table so that farmers are chronically short. Anyway, paddy fields near tourist enclaves are too valuable for rice. A young Balinese, himself in the tourist trade, told me mock humorously: “The spirits of the sawa (paddy fields) are crying: ‘Only telephone poles and hotels grow in our fields now.’ ”

The strain is not only material, for the intricate web of Hindu society is being rent. Some young Balinese are turning away from the ancient faith that is the foundation of the island’s life; others are becoming fundamentalists, turning to the dark, destructive side of Hinduism.

Balinese society is nevertheless extremely deep-rooted and durable. Undeniably, most Balinese live better than they did before the onslaught. Still, the transformation is disrupting and disturbing.

On Lombok, tourists can get away from the effects of tourism--and from other tourists. Hotel construction is still relatively restrained.

Resort hotels are presently located only in a small area on a spectacular west coast beach facing Bali. Seen from a mile offshore, aboard the ketch Raden Mas, on which my wife, Moira, and I cruised for three days last February--the two big hotels already standing, the three under construction and the losmen (boarding houses with cottages) garlanding them were virtually invisible.

Lombok is a big island, and the interior is rugged. Indonesians, as well as more and more foreigners, come because it is almost primeval compared more familiar destinations. Lombok merits the accolade “unspoiled.”

But the island sells itself short by constant comparison to Bali. A century and a half ago , Alfred Russel Wallace noted that the people pressed him to say that their island was more beautiful than Bali. That inferiority complex is understandable, if not justified.

Bali is one of the most beautiful and complex social, aesthetic and religious organisms in the world. The great attraction of Lombok is what it is not--overcrowded and tense. Bali is endless elaboration, and Lombok is blessed simplicity.

The Hindu Balinese conquered the pagan Sasaks of West Lombok in the 17th Century. At the same time, Muslims from the eastern isles conquered the Sasaks of East Lombok, and, in time, Islam spread throughout the island. Uniquely, Hindus and Muslims, at each other’s throats elsewhere, coexist happily, working together harmoniously, even mingling their observances in the 18th-Century temple at Lingsar. Handsome people in sarongs or shorts seem to flash perpetual smiles revealing brilliant white teeth and a great sense of fun. The Sasaks, some 90% of the population, appear to get on well with the economically dominant Balinese, Arabs and Chinese.

Visitors see the island first from the sea or from a low altitude, since most come by boat or by small airliner from Bali. The first impression is overwhelming--and apparently untenanted--greenness. The conical hills march down to the sea, leaving narrow level strips fringed by shining white-sand beaches. (Kuta Beach on the south coast is 62 miles long.) Above the prototypal South Seas island looms the sacred volcano Rinjani, paired with Bali’s sacred volcano Gunung Agung across the Lombok Strait, like two symmetrical Mt. Fujis.

Drawing closer, the visitor sees that Lombok is, after all, inhabited. The first indication is the exuberantly colored butterfly-wing sails of fishermen’s dugout canoes, their outriggers extended sidewards like crabs’ legs. Closer still, the visitor sees the straight lines on the hills that show that humans have been at work. They grow pineapple, bananas, corn and tobacco; also cloves, nutmeg, saffron, pepper and coriander, for these are the Spice Islands.

Because flat land is scarce, those fields are painstakingly terraced. Because water is scarce, they are ingeniously irrigated by a method many centuries old. Mountain streams are drawn by gravity through man-made channels to make their final contribution in the flooded rice fields on the coastal strip.

Ships do not surge across the Equator, but they do surge crossing the equally imaginary--and almost as important--line dividing Bali and Lombok. The channel is always choppy: Whirlpools and waves rise from the collision of strong currents. Although hardly novice sailors, we appreciated the steadying effect of Raden Mas’s big tobacco-colored jib and gaff mainsail.

Alfred Russel Wallace drew the line that marks the end of one realm and the beginning of another, “the two great zoological divisions of the Eastern hemisphere,” as he put it. The Wallace Line divides the familiar animals of Eurasia from the curious forms of Australia. Lombok’s cockatoos and mound-making birds are unmistakably Australian--and are not found on Bali.

The giant tree-ferns he described still grow abundantly, their slender trunks supported by roots above ground as well as below. The flying buttresses of Gothic cathedrals were anticipated by nature.

And boys still trail sticks coated with sticky birdlime over the paddy fields to catch giant dragonflies. Today, as then, fried with dried shrimps, onions and spices, they are a prime delicacy.

Changed, however, is the chief image Lombok and Bali once evoked: beautiful women who disdain bras and blouses. The dictator Sukarno, who owned the largest collection of nude paintings in the world, ended the practice decades ago.

On Lombok the only women who go topless are tourists. The natives are a little shocked to see a fat Dutch blonde enjoying a massage on the open beach, her enormous breasts unfettered and her tiny bikini bottom rolled into a strip.

By and large, however, the people of Lombok are amused, inspired and employed by the visitors. English is the second language, and the U.S. dollar is the second currency. As in many Third World nations placing their economic hopes on tourism, sometimes the rough edges of the two cultures grate. Workers, men and women, putting the finishing touches on a newly opened hotel are paid 4,000 rupiahs ($2) a day. Guests at nearby tables pay 14,000 rupiahs ($7.10) for a Harvey Wallbanger.

But no resentment is discernible--yet. Neither is the sly obsequiousness concealing contempt that tourists evoke in many other destinations. Tourism is hardly five years old, and the honeymoon is still aglow. Instead of grumbling or sneering, the men and women of Lombok, bemused by their new opportunities, are smiling, learning new ways and studying English.

Laughing, Moira complained that she was not allowed to swim in peace. One of the men concreting the outside of the pool insisted on conversing to improve his English.

“He already spoke,” she said, “very well indeed.”

Yet in the hills, 12-year-old girls sit weaving traditional fabrics on traditional hand-looms for less than $2 a day. Older women surrounded by bare-bottomed tots break stones for a new dam funded by international aid.

On a hilltop at Suranadi, the white-washed resthouse built by the Dutch colonial rulers is now a hotel beside a Hindu temple. For a small sum, a bored Brahmin priest will pound on the side of a large stone pool to summon the sacred albino fish to devour offerings of rice.

In the hills, too, the new is slowly coming in. Aptly named Stone Village manufactures terra-cotta roof tiles and cement pipes, intelligently combining old and new methods.

The same approach produces handsome pottery, which ranges from tiny figurines to minute incense burners to sleekly sophisticated teapots to enormous jars that could easily hide the fattest of Ali Baba’s 40 thieves. The natives provide the traditional skills; a small government-financed group from New Zealand provides modern expertise and marketing services.

Patut! Patuh! Patju! So reads the slogan painted by the government on roofs and walls everywhere on West Lombok: Self-discipline! Obedience! Diligence!

It sounds grim, almost totalitarian. But the injunction, enforced by no stern measures, only braces the people of Lombok--who are hardly indolent--for the new day coming. Cheered by the so-far largely beneficial effects of so-far limited tourism, I, nonetheless, hope that day will be a long time coming.

GUIDEBOOK: Languishing on Indonesia’s Island of Lombok Getting there: Garuda Indonesia Airlines is the only airline that flies direct from LAX to Densapar, Bali, stopping in Honolulu and Biak (near New Guinea). flight time is about 23 hours. Round-trip fares are $1,450 during high season (June-August and December), $1,350 in low season. From Bali, the local Merpati Nusantara Airlines flies daily to Ampenan, Lombok; about $70 round trip. Several other airlines fly to Bali, but connect through Tokyo, Guam, Singapore, Sydney and Hong Kong.

Where to stay: Senggigi Beach Hotel is five years old and part of hte Aerowisata chain of Garuda Indonesia Airlines. Bungalows are comfortable and compact, while the Indonesian food is splendid, as is the service. Rates: $57 for single room to $135 for a bungalow. Add 21% service and tax. Telephone 011-62-364-93210; fax 011-62-364-93200.

Sheraton Singgigi Beach Resort is a stunning complex opened in December, 1991. The three-story wings frame the chief feature; a swimming pool--really a captive lagoon--of 8,000 square feet designed by Californian Bill Bensley. Tortoises and crocodiles of black volcanic rock clamber up the sides, and a torchlit stage occupies the center under the gaze of a 27-foot-high black stone head of Cupa, a legendary character. Rates: from $95 for a double room to $360 for a deluxe bungalow, with a splendid Indonesian/American buffet breakfast included, plus 21% service and tax. Sheraton reservations: (00) 325-3535. Or telephone 011-62-364-93333; fax 011-62-364-93140.

The Suranadi Hotel is an old Dutch adminstrator’s residence with cottages added. Situated in the hill about 1,000 feet above sea level, it is perfect for total seclusion. An Olympic-size swimming pool, its bottom black stones, is fed by natural springs. Rates: $12 per double in the main building to $30 for a cottage (breakfst $3.50, lunch $6.50, dinner $6.50); 21% service and tax. Telephone 011-62-364-23686 or cable Suranadi Hotel, Lombok.

There are also many losmen (boarding houses), which often offer individual cottages ranging in price from $7 to $20. Pondak Senggigi, run by the owner’s Australian wife, is one of the best; $15-$25 a day. But losmen are generally for young and energetic travelers.

Where to eat: Restaurants tend to be basic, but we found good value and more than edible food at the Dynasty, near Senggigi. For $22, we had a grilled lobster, grilled shrimp and a whole grilled fish with vegetables, rice, mineral water and local Buntang beer. Elsewhere, Le Paris seafood restaurant on the road to Ampenan. The three virtually continuous towns--Ampenan, Nataram, Cakranegara--have a variety of restaurants serving Lombok specialtie and general Indonesian cuisine.

You usually can’t go wrong with a Chinese restaurant as long as the food is hot (Indonesian curry dishes are often served cool). In the country, try grilled satay (small shishkebabs) at roadside stalls for $2.50 a stick, and a variety of tropical fruits at 30-45 cents a pound. At Kuta Beach, which is largely undeveloped, there are four or five little cafes with cramped cottages attached, which offer very basic food.

Getting around: If you can pick up a few words of Indonesian, the minivans called bemo are a convenient form of transportation. Sample fare for foreigners able to bargain: 65 cents a head for hte eight miles from Senggigi Beach to the twin cities of Ampenan and Mataram or nearby Selaparang Airport. Cakranegara, with its spectcular Hindu temple and pagodas, is a little farther and costs a little more. Hotel taxis are high: about $25 for the same ride. O rhire a leisurely cidomo (horse-drawn buggy) for, say, $7.50-$10 a day.

Shopping: The big public market at Cakranegara is the best palce to buy distinctive Lombok products: silver and gold work; boxes of woven grass topped by small wooden animal rattan and straw work of all kinds; masks and fabrics, either new style (though hand-woven) or traditional, using natural vegetble dyes (surprisingly expensive, some going for as much as $250). Prices in general are negotiable. You can buy a sarong or material enoughfor a dress for $5-$10.

For slightly more sophisticated fabrics, try Slamet Riyadi, Jalan Pabean 16A, Ampenan. The manwho revived Lombok’s handicrafts charges a little more than market stalls for much the same thing, but he is charming. He is also the only curio dealer I have ever met who spontaneously cuts his prices more when he makes up the bill. A conscience is a terrible thing for an art dealer.

Do not miss the pottery--available in small quantities with capricious but not enormously inflated prices--at the shop in the Sheraton, or at the Lombok Pottery Center at Jalan Majapahit 7, Mataram, where you can discuss techniques with the New Zealand advisers.

Sailing: The ketch Raden Mas is available for charter. She boasts air conditioning, hi-fi, freezers, even an ice maker, as well as a crew of three, including a knowledgeable captain and mate and a superb cook. Sleeps eight. Normally sailing out of Bali, Raden Mas is a wonderfully easy way to see the islands. Contact W.J. Frost, P.T. Resources Jaya, Jalan Sultan Hasanuddin 28, Kebayoran Baru, Jakarta 12160, phone 011-62-21-739-4588, fax 011-62-21-739-4566.

When to go: January to March is, roughly, the rainy season, but we prefer its lower temperatures and fewer visitors. Durign two weeks in February, we saw just one prolonged rainstorm. Otherwise, it was the usual tropical pattern: a few minutes or at most, a few hours of rain followed by sunshine.

Guidebooks: The two best I have found are the highly idiosyncratic “Indonesia Handbook” by Bill Dalton (Moon Publications Inc.) and “The Insight Guide: Indonesia” (APA Publications). Both are out in new editions, but in both neither references nor prices are remotely up to date. “The Insight Guide” is more conventional--though less detailed--and much better written.

For more information: Contact the Indonesia Tourist Promotion Office, 3457 Wilshire Blvd., Suite 105, Los Angeles 90010, (213) 387-2078.