5. october - 11. october

After five days in Sanur, we were ready to see more of Indonesia. We had heard so much from other travelers about the small islands southeast of Bali, and after some Instagram research, we landed on Nusa Lembongan; a tiny, relaxed island known for its clear water, mangrove forests, seaweed farms, coral reefs, and some of Bali’s most family-friendly beaches. It’s only about 8 square kilometers, easy to explore by a local open taxi or on foot, and far quieter than Bali itself.

We decided to stay near Mushroom Bay, the place where most boats from Bali arrive. The name alone made us smile. Mushroom Bay! We where wondering how it got that name. (Some say it’s from mushroom-shaped corals, others from caves shaped like mushrooms along the cliffs.)

But first we had to get there.

The boat ride across

Taking the boat from Sanur to Lembongan is an experience in itself. There are dozens of speedboats to choose from, and we simply and naively picked the first option we found online.
Sanur harbor is chaotic in a fascinating way: travelers everywhere, loud voices, bad acoustics, engines roaring, luggage everywhere. The huge harbor is shaped like two elephant-fish guardians! Its so cool.

We boarded a semi sized –speedboat with five engines on the back. Bags were lifted to the roof by small Balinese men who seemed to defy gravity. Then we were off, flying across the waves in a very high speed. After fifty minutes of bouncing over the sea with music playing loudly, we arrived at Mushroom Bay.

There is no pier.
The boat drives onto the beach as far in as it comes. The rest we have to walk.

The water was unbelievably blue. The sand was white. We stepped into the sea, holding our shoes and lifting our dresses. Locals ran out to help with the luggage, carrying suitcases on their heads. We rolled our bags across the sand between sunbathers. It was a surreal and weird moment, and for Astrid, Hannes it was the very first time they felt like entering a paradise.

The walk to our hotel

We had booked a small bungalow-style hotel about ten minutes from the beach.
Tourists wandered around in swimsuits and sarongs. There were little ice cream shops, pretty cafés and souvenir stalls. Everything is very simple, beautiful and picturesque.

As we walked further from the main street, the surroundings changed a bit.
This was the local sidestreet: burning piles of rubbish, chickens, kids driving scooters and barking stray dogs that didn´t feel so friendly.

At the end of the road, the sea suddenly opened in front of us again with a beautiful view of a bay with fishing boats. But this was also the entrance to our hotel. Run-down, unmarked, and confusing, with a strong smell of cigarettes and mold.

We checked in, and we must say the contrast was strange.
One of the rooms, the kids’ room, was clean, bright, and beautiful, with a balcony overlooking the ocean. Its was breathtaking.

Our room that not even had a window… was not. The smell coming from the bathroom was overwhelmingly strong from some kind of poisonous insect treatment. The sheets were damp, almost wet, and heavily perfumed, the mattress looked beyond used, the lights flickered, and the bathroom felt like a forgotten prison cell.

As I was longing for comfort, I was crying, but Bjarne calmed me down and we decided to try one night.

Breakfast and a decision

The next morning, we went for breakfast. At first it looked like we were the only guests, but then another family with two kids came, which softened the atmosphere a lot for us. Breakfast was served next to the small dirty reception, beside a pool with an incredible ocean view.

Everything about the place was paradoxical. One moment it felt awful. The next so beautiful.

An older Balinese woman appeared from the smallest kitchen we had ever seen. She and the young man who checked us in ran the hotel together.

We later learned that the young man who was about 25 years old had lost both of his parents to cancer the year before. Suddenly the whole place made sense — the mix of beauty and neglect, the feeling of someone doing their very best with limited resources, the loneliness in the atmosphere.

The breakfast menu had three choices:
– omelet and toast
– banana pancakes
– toast with jam

Plus fresh juices (pineapple, banana, watermelon) and Balinese coffee.

Extremely simple, homemade, and so delicious.

Our breakfast; omelet and “Bali kopi”, Uno and the ocean.

After a round of Uno, some fruit, and a long conversation, we agreed: we wanted to stay, IF we could get a better room.

The young man understood immediately.
He offered us another room — not perfect, but much better. Cleaner, brighter, with windows and a working fan. There was still no water in the shower, but a trickle of cold water in the bathtub we had would do for now. We could breathe so we took the decision to land here.

We are getting better at adapting, adjusting, and finding our place in new environments. Each move and each new place we come to teaches us so much.

A little hotel that became a village

Over the next days, the hotel slowly transformed into a small village with an unexpected mix of people whose lives briefly overlapped with ours.

There was the older Balinese woman, our cook, who placed Canang Sari offerings every morning at the altars and on the ground around the property. Flowers, incense, and rice arranged in a small basket made of banana leaves. She moved slowly and with full presence and gratitude for the place, turning the worn courtyard into a sacred space. Watching her every morning from our balcony, smelling the intense and seeing her dedication and gratefulness to her workplace touched us deeply.

A couple had arrived with two small dogs — a slightly chaotic strange British middel aged pair whose dogs were their babies. The husband mainly stayed in the room, while she brought her dogs to the pool.

Then there was the Australian family. Two leather artisans who sold handmade belts and wallets at markets back home. They had recently separated (I got a feeling it happended during the vacation), yet they were traveling together with their two children, the same ages as Astrid and Hannes. They were funny, open, a little raw, and incredibly generous with their stories.

A German father checked in with his daughter and Balinese girlfriend for a couple of nights. Backpackers drifted in and out. And always, in the background, the young man and older woman who ran the place, always a little late, but with a smile and warmth that we appreciated so much.

The day before we left, we met the Balinese girlfriend standing by her scooter by the beach, with tears in her eyes. She had said goodbye to the German father and daughter, aware that it would be a long time until they’ll meet again. as we where passing her, she opened her heart, and we felt how she tried to be strong and hold her tears back. I we still regret to this day that we never gave her a hug.

Island days

Bali is known for attracting people who come here for retreats, yoga, healing, and lifestyle changes — and you really feel that influence in everyday life. Alongside traditional warungs, there is a growing number of cafés and restaurants focused on vegan food, organic ingredients, non-cruelty products, and social responsibility. Some places support stray dogs, others work with local farmers, and many combine good food with a clear set of values.

We noticed this even in Sanur, which isn’t known as a “trendy” area. One day we tried one of these health-focused restaurants. It was very good, and affordable, at least for Bjarne, Astrid and me. It felt good to eat well while also supporting places that care about more than profit.

We walked along coastal paths with dramatic cliffs dropping into the sea. We rode on the back of pickup taxis, hair flying everywhere — something the kids absolutely loved. We spent long afternoons at beach cafés, and mixed local food with these newer, healthier spots, Hannes is exploring French fries across Asia as usual, but we are also adapting to new tastes and dishes! I have totally fell in love with Soto Ayam and will for sure bring the recipe home to our kitchen.

At Mushroom Bay beach, we where bathing, playing, drinking fresh juice and sheep beer, the children collected beautiful shells and coral fragments, lining them up, making beautiful sand castles and decorating them. Oh, we had such relaxing good days at the beach, watching people come and go with the speedboats.

Can’t complain about the amount of nutrients we are getting these days!

Devi Baruna: Rest day of the sea

One day was especially meaningful: Devi Baruna, the Balinese Hindu rest day for the ocean.

On this day:

no fishing
no boats
no swimming
no surfing

The sea must rest.
The beaches were raked clean. Families gathered in groups facing the water. Offerings were placed along the shore. The entire island seemed to exhale.

We joined in our own way.
We talked with the children about Hinduism, about gods and nature, about gratitude and reciprocity.
We made a little altar near the ocean on our hotel wall, cleared garbage from the ground, and meditated together with the kids.

The children took it seriously.
The moment stayed with all of us.

Showing gratitude to the ocean and its powers.

Back to Bali — And a Surprise in Kuta

After 6 days we were ready to speedboat-crazy ride return to the “big island” — Bali —
We are grateful for the days we got here; we met wonderful people, we ate good food, lived in paradise, we gelt closer to people in may ways, The children got new playmates for a few days, and also we grown ups appreciated to have some other parents to talk with. Lembongan was good for us!

Our next few days will be at a hostel in Kuta! Yes, HOSTEL! We expected noise and chaos, but what happened there was surprisingly positive… and I can’t wait to tell you about it in the next post.

With love from all of us

Nusa Lembongan