12 - 17. November 2025

We knew Hannes had an ear infection, and it felt like very good timing that we were heading to the mainland that day. We had already planned the transfer, but now it carried a different kind of weight.

We left early in the morning in a small private boat. Morning is best for crossing as the sea is calmer after sunrise. On the other side, at a little pier, a driver was waiting for us with a minibus.

Not long into the drive, Hannes got much worse. We had to stop so he could throw up. The pain had become intense, and it felt so helpless to watch Hannes go through this kind of pain.

Up until then, our driver had been quiet, but his energy shifted when he saw Hannes.

He opened up and he told us that he and his wife had been trying for years to have children. He was about our age, had grown up here in Lombok. We could feel how much it meant to him to be able to help us in that situation. He asked where we were heading with him, and we showed the small clinic we had found on the map in Kuta.

He dismissed it. Instead, he said he wanted to take us to a better hospital in an other city with more experienced doctors. We trusted him, and he changed direction.

He drove us all the way there, walked us to the entrance, and then waited. For over an hour he sat outside while we stood in line, making sure we were taken care of.

Eventually, we got an appointment, but the wait was still long. So Bjarne and Astrid went ahead with the driver to our Airbnb in Kuta, while I stayed with Hannes at the hospital.

When it was finally our turn, we met with an ear, nose, and throat specialist that spoke very well english. He examined Hannes using a small camera, carefully explaining what he saw. Thankfully, it wasn’t as serious as it had first seemed. We got antibiotics and ear drops, and clear instructions for the days ahead. Even some herbs for the stomach.

Hannes, despite everything, managed to charm everyone there.

Later, we took a Grab and met the others at the house in Kuta.

It was a lovely place. A small town home with our own little courtyard, separate bedrooms for us and the kids. There’s something about Airbnbs we keep coming back to. We just love stepping into all the temporary homes that someone has created. The details, the atmosphere, the small delicate decisions behind how a place is put together. It’s (almost) always inspiring!

The neighborhood around us was easy to settle into. Small local streets, chickens, a yoga studio nearby, laundry services, co-working spaces. Everything within walking distance. It suited us well as Bjarne was working full days and Hannes was sick.

We had heard a lot about Lombok before arriving. People often describe it as an “unpolished gem”. A place with raw beauty, less developed than Bali, but full of potential. And you do feel that.

Kuta Lombok, in particular, has its own distinct character.

There’s a surf culture here that shapes much of the atmosphere. Many come for the waves, both beginners and experienced surfers, and the town has grown around that. You see boards everywhere, motorbikes moving between beaches, people heading out early in the morning or returning salty and sun-tired in the afternoon.

There’s a slightly rugged, youthful energy to it. A mix of locals, expats, and travelers. Some stay for a few days, others for months.

At the same time, Lombok is predominantly Muslim, which creates a very different cultural backdrop compared to Bali’s Hindu traditions. Mosques are part of everyday life, and the call to prayer moves through the town several times a day.

It adds something to the atmosphere. A depth. A reminder that this place has its own identity beyond tourism.

Because Hannes was still recovering, we took things slowly. Walks to the beach, short outings, long pauses. The main beach in Kuta stretches wide and open, framed by hills and softer, rolling landscapes compared to Bali. The town itself feels small, but with a growing pulse.

We spent a lot of time just observing.

We had reached a kind of intergration point in our time in Indonesia.

Moving from Bali to Lombok made the contrasts visible, not just culturally, but internally too. Everything we had been through in the weeks before seemed to bring things to conclusion here.

There had been many deep lows. Periods of stagnation. Working with the heart-center for sure. Tight, difficult emotions that felt hard to move through. But we had also stayed in it. Talked a lot, adjusted to each other and becoming closer than ever.

We’ve become better at communicating. More raw, more open. The kids, too. They are growing in their ability to understand themselves and their needs, their emotions — and also what it means to be part of something together.

We all have our days, for sure, but it is definitely less “my way,” more awareness of our way.

We’ve started to see more clearly that this only works if all of us contribute. That everyone is allowed their process, but also carries a small responsibility for the whole.

They’ve learned more about me than I expected — They are fully aware og my menstrual cycles, my ups and downs. Whether I planned for that or not. Its quite funny, but It also assist the group alot when we are so close and why I “change” so much during a month.

And Bjarne and me in turn, are learning to meet them differently and with more respect. To invite them in. To say sorry and give them better, deeper and more honest answers. To give them more responsibility. They want it. They’re ready for it.

We also see how important it is to sometimes split up. To give them space from each other, and time alone with us. They are in different places, academically and emotionally, and that distance matters a lot.

And through all of it, there is a growing sense of something strong:

We are proud of each other.
And we love each other deeply.

After about a week in Lombok, it was time again.

A new chapter was waiting.

Next stop: Thailand, where we would spend two months, including Christmas in my late father’s home. A place that carries its own story.

Kuta, Lombok

Gili Air