Nihiwatu Resort, a small and exclusive hideaway on the eastern island of Sumba (400 kms east of Bali) is one of the most extraordinary resorts in an archipelago of the extraordinary. The fishing, surfing and diving are sensational and the unique tribal culture on Sumba with its distinctive animist rituals, is as vivid as any on earth. Nearby are Stone Age sites and local villages, waterfalls and fabulous secluded beaches to explore.

The property encompasses 438 hectares of tropical forest, rice terraces and grasslands, wrapped around the stunning 2.5 kms long Nihiwatu beach. This world-class beach is protected on both ends by cliffs and headlands ensuring total exclusivity for guests. Just kick back all day in a hammock overlooking paradise, relax by the pool, take leisurely walks on the beach and explore the reefs at low tide, indulge in a massage at the Jungle and Hilltop Spas, or stretch your limbs at a private or group yoga class under the largest traditional Sumbanese structure on the island.

Tucked amongst the trees are just seven luxury bungalows and three two-bedroom villas offering complete solitude in air-conditioned comfort along with everything you could wish for in an idyllic tropical setting. The thatched roofed bungalows and villas are all hand-built by Indonesian craftsman using local materials and all have balcony views of the ocean. At Nihiwatu your sanctuary is superbly outfitted in contemporary Indonesian style and with large glass walls and doors to maximize the views.

Nihiwatu Resort offers full board of breakfast, lunch and dinner each day. Breakfast and lunch are served throughout most of the day and coffee, tea and cakes are available anywhere, at anytime.

The open-air dining pavilions have spectacular views which overlook the sea and beach and become a particularly special place in the evening. Appetizers are served at the cliff edge bar, with sweeping views of the sea, surf and the stunning sunsets. With a wide range of spirits and selection of fine wines from Europe, North and South America and Australia, it is the place for guests to share their daily adventures and excursions.

For dinner, the chef offers a choice of main courses based on the days catch, fresh home-grown vegetables and imported meats. Guests, sitting at long tables can enjoy a variety of local Asian and international cuisine, particularly seafood. Alternatively private outdoor tables are available for a more intimate setting. (Special dietary requirements can be accommodated if guests give adequate advance notice).

I f you are seeking a destination that can provide you with a unique and entirely different holiday experience; be it adventure, nature at its scenic best or just losing yourself in another world, Sumba’s Nihiwatu is the right place to be!

Please visit nihiwatu resort in http://www.nihiwatu.com

John Borthwick ventures to the Indonesian island of Sumba in search of the perfect wave

Sumba makes Bali seem like Manhattan. This high, undulating island of 11,150sqkm is home to about 500,000 people who, despite their veneer of missionary Christianity, remain animists and ancestor worshippers. Roughly halfway between Bali and Timor, the island is, according to Australian anthropologist Lawrence Blair, “a time capsule of our earliest beginnings”. Within minutes of leaving the airport at Tambolaka in western Sumba, I notice men sporting ikat turbans and parang swords cantering along the road on tough little horses.

These ponies and their equally sturdy riders are the stars in Sumba’s celebrated ritual, the Pasola, battles on horseback that take place each February and March.

In this dangerous war game, hundreds of horsemen thunder across a large field flinging wooden spears at each other. The national government still allows the jousts to take place but these days insists that the spears at least be blunt. Officials realise they have no chance of banning the tournament as Pasola is far more than a display of machismo and horsemanship. It is integral to the island’s animist Marapu belief system. Despite the blunted spears, serious injuries are common and there are even occasional deaths. Rather than regretting these, the Sumbanese believe that blood spilled on the earth during Pasola will ensure a fruitful harvest and their survival.

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One of the last great bastions of tradition in increasingly modernized Indonesia, Sumba remains a wild and wonderful adventure. Tim Hannigan takes a detour far from the beaten track.

Sumba eases up over the horizon an hour before sunset, long after the green hills of Flores have fallen away in the wake. Below deck the cargo of seasick pigs grunts unhappily. I lean against the rail of the ferry’s upper deck and watch the long, dark ridge of the island rising in the dusk. Sumba is an island apart. Riding south of the main chain of Nusa Tenggara, the string of small islands east of Bali, it stayed aloof from the rest of the archipelago for centuries. Hinduism, Islam and Christianity did not cross the Sumba Strait; Dutch colonialists arrived only in the early 20th century, and long after Independence Sumba kept the rest of the world at arm’s length. Today it remains one of Indonesia’s most intensely traditional islands.

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Ten years ago, British traveller Richard Cain was in the island of Sumba in Indonesia. He thought he might have a look at the famous megaliths on the island. Here is his story:

“…….. what I didn’t know was that they are still making them. As it happened, I was in time for the laying of a new tomb and the accompanying funeral of one of the local chiefs.”

“I was fortunate enough to be invited to the funeral and to stay in a nearby village. When asking about the deceased, I was surprised to be told that I could see him the following day, the day before the funeral. After all, not many foreigners come by, and he would be very interested to meet me.”

“So I met the chief, who seemed to be in glowing health. He told me that he was having his funeral now, as it was a very expensive affair and why should he miss all the fun? He also couldn’t trust his family to stump up the cash for it when he died. Apparently this is the custom for chiefs in these parts. We also talked about this and that, and he offered his condolences for my recent loss. When I showed my surprise, he told me that his people shared my grief at the loss of one of my royal family, namely Princess Diana. This was September 1997.”

“On the day of the funeral, I went to the chief’s village. I saw a huge group of men pulling an enormous chunk of rock. It must have been 30 feet long and 15 feet wide and about 3 or 4 feet thick. Tree trunks were being used as rollers and they had been manhandling this slab, to be laid on the chief’s tomb, for many months as it had come from a quarry far away. Standing on top was a very fierce man, with a colourful sarong and bandana and an enormous machete in his belt. He was calling out time through a megaphone. There was also a sail on the slab to help them on their way. This was to be the final day of heaving, as they were to pull the slab the final few metres to its eventual resting place.”

“Every now and then from the village square came music from a small band. This was a signal to stop pulling and to meet another delegation from various local villages. They had come to pay their respects to the chief and to offer presents. These were mainly pigs and buffalos, which were led ahead of the delegation and then ritually slaughtered in the tiny square. There were also a few modern gifts, including a few cartons of cigarettes and bags of sugar.”

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