With several kilometers of white sand and turquoise waters, Ngapali Beach, in the south of Myanmar's Rakhine state, is your archetypal tropical idyll.

At least, that is what it should be.

The country's premier beach resort, once known for drawing an international crowd of holidaymakers, is currently experiencing tough times, with deserted beaches and businesses struggling to stay afloat.

The situation here has deteriorated in the past few weeks, nearly three years after a military coup overthrew the elected government, reigniting Myanmar's multifaceted civil war.

In October, the Arakan Army, the armed wing of the Rakhine independence movement, conducted a joint offensive with two other ethnic armed groups, which led to the capture of towns and border posts in the country's north.

In response, Myanmar's overstretched military has cut road access to southern Rakhine state and barred boats from leaving the bay.

A devastating impact on tourism and fishing

Predictably, this has had a devastating impact on Ngapali's twin industries of tourism and fishing during what should be peak season for both. Additionally, food is becoming scarce and fuel supplies are dwindling, with power outages a daily occurrence as they are throughout the country.

"We don't know when the road will reopen," said one restaurant owner, adding it could take weeks or even months. "Without customers, we don't know how we'll make enough money to last us through the rainy season," they went on to say, referring to the off-season between May and September when most businesses close.

While flights to nearby Thandwe airport still operate, international tourists have largely stayed away since the coup. Domestic tourists prefer to travel to Ngapali by road, which is a nine-hour drive from Yangon on Myanmar's west coast.

With the road cut, tourist numbers are at their lowest since the pandemic. The exclusive Amara Ocean Resort has been forced to close for lack of guests, while the neighboring Jasmine Resort has only two rooms out of 96 occupied while employing a rotating staff of 127. Other, smaller hotels have sent their employees home without pay.

Favorite with Russians

Those tourists that do make it here tend to be Russian, Myanmar being one of a few places they can travel to freely — at least as freely as any other tourist in a country where restrictions are now numerous.

The decade that began with Myanmar's transition to democratic rule and ended with the COVID-19 pandemic is remembered by locals as a golden period, a time when business was booming, and the area was developing.

Along with Inle Lake and the ancient city of Bagan, Ngapali Beach was among the country's top draws and regularly ranked among the best beaches in the world by tourism outlets.

"It was never crowded but it was always busy," remembers one returning European tourist, who likened it to the beach resorts of Thailand 20 or 30 years ago. "All along the beach were little bars and restaurants and massage places."

A bubble of peace in a troubled country

Even through previous periods of strife, such as the Rohingya refugee crisis in 2017 or the 2004 tsunami, Ngapali remained largely unaffected, with one local resident likening it to a bubble of peace in a country plagued by trouble.

Many now see the current situation as comparable to the pandemic when trade and tourism also stopped. Yet at that time food and fuel were available, prices were stable, and people could feed themselves by fishing.

Now, any food that cannot be produced locally has to be flown in. Consequently, prices are soaring, with staples such as tomatoes and onions doubling or tripling in price. As of mid-December, a sack of rice sold for 100,000 kyat (€43.5, $47.6), whereas a month earlier, it was half the price and of better quality. Restaurants and shops have closed for lack of supplies or customers.

Streets are empty of traffic due to the scarcity of tourists and the lack of fuel. Insufficient dollar reserves to pay for oil imports, along with the regime's hoarding of diesel, have led to a spike in shortages throughout the country.

With the road from Yangon now cut, fuel is even harder to come by, with the cost of a liter of gasoline increasing tenfold in the last month. It goes for even more on the black market. Cooking gas is also running low, and people are stocking up on charcoal instead.

Soon hotels won't have fuel for their power generators. If shortages continue until the rice harvest, there will be nothing to power the harvesters. As one business owner told DW, "Nothing is getting through. No food, no fuel, no medicine. How do they expect us to survive?"

What are the reasons for the restrictions?

At the Jade Taw fishing village at the southern end of Ngapali Beach, things are even more desperate. Here, the land juts out into the sea, and on either side of the peninsula are a hundred or more fishing boats that have been prohibited from leaving shore.

This part of southern Rakhine state is the region's biggest exporter of fish, with 90% exported by road to Yangon, and onto Thailand and China. In normal circumstances, the boats would come and go throughout the day and night, but with a navy gunboat patrolling the horizon, none dare venture out. Warning shots have allegedly been fired.

One young fisherman, who works on a shrimp boat with five others, describes how the boat would go out each evening and return in the morning with a full catch. Now, he says, he has nothing to do but sleep on the boat and wait. In the village, men mend nets or sharpen knives, or lay in hammocks inside rattan huts, hoping for the embargo to lift. Lean dogs lurk about looking for some rice gruel, if any can be spared.

The reason for these restrictions depends on whom you ask. Most residents will tell you that the military is afraid of arms shipments being delivered to the Arakan Army in the north. Others suggest the regime is worried that violence may break out here, opening up yet another front in the expanding conflict. Some see it as a collective punishment of the Rakhine people after the October offensive ended an informal cease-fire between the Arakan Army and the junta.

Not all gloom and misery

Poor at the best of times — the average fisherman here makes about $70 (€64) a month — villagers are now getting by on food donations from local monasteries or through a collective fund initiative, with no apparent help from the state authorities. Others venture into the shallows with nets and spears, hoping to catch enough that day to feed their family.

Despite these hardships, it's not all gloom and misery, with people playing sepak takraw between the palm trees or sitting together smoking cheroots. Some voice hope that, following the gains in the north, the regime is headed for defeat, although none can say how long it may take.

Back on the main beach, boys race horses on the sand having no customers to ride them. Women balance trays of coconuts on their heads. As the sun sets over the Bay of Bengal they still have most of the coconuts left to sell. A waitress sets a table for the hotel's only guests, a couple from Siberia. People carry on however they can, often with a smile, waiting for those golden times to return.

Edited by: Srinivas Mazumdaru