Journals of a Hotel Manager

Day breaks at 6:50am in the tropics but everyday the mosque on the neighboring island broadcasts its prayer call at 5am. TI is literally a stone’s throw away from the next island, inventively called by the locals as Big Island (BI). Comparing to our tiny island of 20 acres, BI is three times the size.

Separated by a narrow but deep channel of approximately 50 feet wide, the current is swift and strong thus making it impossible to swim across to BI. BI is populated entirely by 900 locals and the main industry is fishing and cannery. The hotel is cash cow for BI since we rent 20 houses from the locals to accommodate some of the staff. Our 700 staff frequent the only barber and a local restaurant on BI as well, making it one of the richest islands in the country.

I took a stroll on BI today, accompanied by the HR director and the Chief Engineer. It was 10 o’clock but the sun was already searing hot. We boarded a tiny flat-bottomed boat from the loading dock and packed ourselves in with another 4 staff.  There was not enough room for sitting so we all stood facing the front of the boat. The journey took less than two minutes.

The jetty on the southern tip of BI was built by the hotel. Empty bottles, torn slippers and general garbage welcomed us on the beach of BI. The village was tightly constructed around a central courtyard of the size of a basketball field. Walls were made of broken corals which had been outlawed by the government since the 1990s. Houses were small, dark and dilapidated. Every house is equipped with a towering black plastic water tank issued by the government. The only fresh water source is from the rain.

Local women wore headdresses and long robes despite the humid tropical weather. Men loitered in the shade of banyan trees on incredibly uncomfortable looking ‘chairs’ made of ropes. Children ran around barefoot in tattered T-shirts. There was no smile, no ‘hello’, and no friendliness that I had been expecting from the famous tropical hospitality.

The shops that surrounded the central courtyard were doubtlessly established to attract tourists - guests at our hotel were the only tourists. Sadly, the souvenirs and trinkets that were on displayed looked like they were from any shabby tourist trap on Kuta Beach (Bali) or in Patpong (Bangkok). There is no local artifact at all, unless you want to buy the illegal shark’s skull or turtle shells.

In general the island was poorly maintained with garbage everywhere. It would be a hard sell as a “local highlights excursion” to our sophisticated guests who will pay $1000 a night after the renovation.