Recollections of a trip to Lombok and the various Indonesian craft beers that have found their way to the island.
“Go to Lombok!”, they said.
“It’s paradise on earth!”, they said.
“Imagine what Bali was like twenty years ago, before the hordes of tourists took over.”, they said.
Inspired by such raving reviews, all first-hand, I made a trip down to Lombok in November 2025. What was waiting for me when I got there is better described as paradise lost.
The Outsider
In hindsight, I may have found the whole experience more agreeable if I’d made the effort to see more of the island. Instead, I wittingly constricted myself to Kuta and surrounding areas. To nobody’s detriment but my own, I should add.
Located on Lombok’s southern shores, Kuta is becoming an increasingly popular destination for those disenchanted with Bali. The growing influx of surfers, digital nomads, enlightened travellers, and couples on romantic getaways has given the sleepy coastal town an almost cosmopolitan air. Or so they would have you believe. Throw in a steady stream of divers, mountaineers recovering from an ascent of Mt. Rinjani, and motorsport enthusiasts who come to watch the races at Mandalika Circuit, and you’ve got yourself an interesting mix of people. Or so one would assume.
As fate would have it, I failed to ingratiate myself with any of them. Not that I made much of an effort to begin with. On the night of my arrival, whilst enjoying a helping of grilled fish at a roadside warung, I was privy to an emphatic exchange about a situationship gone awry. This emergency council had been called following a somewhat uninspired comment – yet altogether benevolent, from my perspective – that the avoidant had made on the slighted’s most recent Instagram story.
The banality of the affairs under scrutiny and the volume at which they were being announced left me feeling conflicted. More specifically, I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. Indecision of that nature would prove to be a recurring theme throughout my week-long stay.
Groundhog Day
In the absence of companionship, I found a surplus of rubbish. Quite literally. With the exception of the hotel grounds, there was trash scattered everywhere I went. All along the route that took me to the beach, on the beach itself, even upon entering the water I found myself wading through a strip of random consumer discards. Plastic packaging, shards of glass, trails of cigarette butts, the odd diaper, a single flip-flop here and there – anything that no longer served a purpose had been left to wither under the sweltering tropical sun.
Somewhere along the line, when it was already too late, it must have become apparent that even the almighty sun is incapable of dissolving the evidence of human excess. And so the good people of Lombok had taken to burning these materials out in the open. On those sparse moments that I dared avert my gaze from the surface directly in front of me, a brief glance up to the heavens revealed scattered plumes of smoke drifting away in the sea breeze. Often enough, such scenes were accompanied by an unsavoury odour.
My excursions to more secluded spots outside the Kuta town limits revealed similarly dystopian vistas. Barren hillsides on the horizon, mounds of construction waste along the main roads, and more rubbish-strewn beaches. To make matters worse, a throng of roaming salespeople intent on offloading stuff that I neither wanted nor needed were waiting for me at every turn. In my best Indonesian, I explained that I would rather make a donation instead. As a token of gratitude, they kept me company for a while and tried to sell me something else.
Old Habits Die Hard
This repetitive cycle soon started to wear me down. As the days progressed, I found myself spending an increasing amount of time out on my veranda with a 620 ml bottle of Bintang in hand and a clove cigarette between my lips. When suitable levels of Dutch courage had been realised, I strayed from the hotel grounds in search of a meal. On one of these occasions, I came across an establishment called Knalpot.
First and foremost, I was intrigued by the name. The literal translation of Knalpot in Dutch is exploding pot; in Indonesian it means exhaust pipe. Upon closer inspection, it was revealed that craft beer is poured there. Indonesian craft beer from Bali, no less!
Black Sand Brewery
Founded in 2019, Black Sand is anything but a one-trick pony. The brewery’s vision has entailed a distinct culinary angle since day one and has gradually evolved to embrace music as well.
Like so many other hospitality businesses worldwide, Black Sand was forced to adapt quickly when COVID hit in 2020. Just as its taproom with splendid views of rice fields in Canggu was gaining widespread popularity, the brewery was forced to look beyond the venue for the sake of self-preservation. The adopted strategy was nothing short of bold. A new production facility was opened nearby, allowing Black Sand to expand its operations without compromising the character of the original space.
When Bali reopened its doors to the world in March 2022, the brewery was ready to start moving canned products into homes, retail shelves, and distribution channels across the island and beyond. The ability to stimulate and meet increasing demand led to Black Sand being voted best brewery in Indonesia the following year.
The evolution of the brand did not stop there, however. In 2024, live music became an integral part of the Black Sand experience. A growing number of local and international acts took the stage at the taproom in Canggu, including some first-time performances in Indonesia. As a natural continuation of what was already unfolding, Black Sand Studio was established at the start of 2026. This dedicated music studio provides space for rehearsals, live sessions, and workshops.
At Knalpot, I had the pleasure of tasting two brews from the Black Sand range: the Kolsch and the IPA. The latter, winner of a silver medal at the Asia Beer Championship 2023, is a particularly tasty number. If anything, it was certainly a welcome change after all those Bintangs!
Island Brewing
The other Balinese brews on tap at Knalpot came courtesy of Island Brewing. Established in 2022 by the mastermind behind Black Sand, Island Brewing has rapidly become a key player in Bali’s craft beer scene. Aside from converting traditional beer drinkers to craft enthusiasts, the brewery is closely tied to the local surf and arts community.
Island Brewing operates a state-of-the-art facility capable of producing more than 60,000 litres of liquid gold per month. That’s the equivalent of roughly 180,000 cans or 3,000 kegs, which are subsequently distributed to bars, restaurants, and retail stores island wide. And across the Lombok Strait too! The facility was designed to enable innovative and sustainable practices, including eco-conscious logistics and packages. The integration of such processes has proved key in enhancing the brewery’s reputation as an environmentally responsible, community-oriented brand.
I tried a trio of Island brews that night in Lombok: the Pilsner, Summer Pale Ale, and Small Hazy. All three beers are unfiltered, unpasteurised, and made without additives. This emphasis on natural ingredients and balanced flavour profiles distinguishes Island Brewing from other craft beer producers in Indonesia, including Black Sand.
Taking the L
As much as I enjoyed sampling some of Indonesia’s standout craft beers, the occasion did very little to improve my overall impression of Lombok. As someone who generally has no trouble entertaining himself, I rarely succumb to boredom. The longer I spent in “paradise”, however, the more listless I became. And then, on the day of my departure, I miraculously started feeling like a better version of myself again.
Not to say that the entire trip was a complete disaster. The hotel staff were a delightful bunch, always up for a cup of coffee and a chat. The same goes for the coconut vendors on Kuta Beach and some of the older, less assertive roaming salespeople that peddle their wares around town. I even spent one evening on the beach drinking moonshine with some local youths, a spontaneous occurrence made all the more hilarious by the language barrier.
On my final evening in Lombok, I had dinner at a restobar a few doors down from the hotel. The place was practically empty when I walked in, save a single table with three local gentlemen seated at it. They turned out to be the house band and invited me to join them for a beer before their act got underway. All three hailed from the Gili Islands, a popular tourist destination located off the northwest coast of Lombok. Another tropical paradise known for its beautiful beaches, vibrant marine life, and laid-back atmosphere. With similar waste management issues, from what I was told. So much so that dengue has become rampant again.
In the words of Eric Weiner, author of ‘The Geography of Bliss’, the problem with finding paradise is that others might find it too. This statement definitely applies to Lombok. Sadly, there is no going back from here.
