30. september - 5. october

Dear all,

I am writing this from Thailand, after two full months in Indonesia. I actually began this text during our last days in Bali, but it has taken time to find the right words and to understand the bigger picture of what these weeks have taught us. So much has happened — in our surroundings, in our routines, and inside each of us.
I’m excited to finally share more, and this post is a look back at our very first period in Bali, where many of the processes that followed began to take shape.

Sometimes it takes a while before words arrive. For me, it took almost two months before I could sit down and write about Indonesia. Not because everything was too wonderful to describe, but because my attention needed to be elsewhere. We had to deal with daily rhythm, family dynamics, and the deeper questions that long-term travel brings to the surface.

After Jeju, Bali was a shock to the senses. The air was thick and sweet; the airport glowed with bamboo structures, carved wood, and warm faces. Getting the visa on arrival was easy. Outside, dozens of drivers tried to get our attention, some pretending to be our Grab driver — but they could fool us, we are pro’s, haha.

We had chosen Sanur, on Bali’s southeast coast, as our first stop. Historically a fishing village, Sanur is one of Bali’s oldest beach communities, known for its calm water, long beach promenade, and a gentler atmosphere compared to the crowded and expensive west coast. A friend from our eco-village in Norway has family here, and she had said, “Start in Sanur — it’s soft.” So we did.

Beautiful sunset from the promenade in Sanur

We just love the colorful fishing boats that is everywhere here on the beaches

Our little oasis

We checked into Hotel Abian, a simple, budget-friendly hotel that felt like a small oasis: a courtyard pool wrapped in tropical plants, fresh fruit platters every morning, smoothie bowls, mie goreng — and juices so colorful and fresh!

Then of course; the quirks.
Cold water in the showers. Hard water in the taps — even Hannes started using conditioner. The chlorine at the pool left marks on the children’s fingers and toes. Outside, the sidewalks were torn up for renovation, leaving deep holes on both sides of a very busy street. It was chaotic, imperfect, and lively. Very Bali, and NOT what we’ve been used to so far!

Inside the family orbit

Finding a steady rhythm with work, school, rest, and the simple fact that we are together all the time is a daily effort for us – as you all know by now. Some days everything aligns. Other days, not at all.

There is resistance in all four of us.

Bjarne wants to be with us, but he also needs long stretches of concentration to work.
I long for hours alone — a place to breathe by myself.
The children want freedom, movement, play. School feels like an interruption.
And since we can’t spread out into different spaces or communities, every feeling becomes louder.

It loops.
We talk, argue, adjust, try again, fall out of rhythm, and begin once more. It can be dramatic, but it’s an honest family life without the buffers of routine, school, work, and separate lives that we are so used to.

There are beautiful days, where everything flows and it feels like we’ve found our way. And then there are days where we are all stretched thin. Slowly, though, we can feel something shifting. Each of us is learning something essential about boundaries, patience, and how to live together in a way that supports us instead of draining us.

Anxiety arrives too

For me, arriving in Bali brought a wave of anxiety I didn’t expect.
Earthquakes. Tsunamis. Thoughts that had never followed me before suddenly took over. I lay awake at night planning escape routes, listening to sounds that never meant anything until now.

Looking back, it makes sense. We don’t have a home. No private base. No familiar structure. That uncertainty affects the body — and when I’m constantly in “mother mode,” with little time to reconnect with myself, my sense of safety becomes shaky. Long-term travel exposes these things quickly.

Small anchors

To support ourselves, we created small routines:
school in the morning, pool or beach in the afternoon, dinner at a warung — the small family-run restaurants serving home-cooked meals at local prices. In warungs we could eat well for 20–30k rupiah pr person (10 kr) while western restaurants charged five times that.

Through these routines, we slowly found our footing, for now.

Friday taco night

One of the warmest moments in Sanur was visiting our Norwegian new friends — the sister of our neighbor in Hurdal and her husband and two kids, a boy and a girl a little bit younger that Hannes and Astrid. When we arrived, their mother opened the door; It was so funny, because she had stayed with her daughter in the eco-village just months before, before we left!

It was Friday. Apparently, no Friday passes without tacos in this family either.
Rosé wine, soft lights, excited children, a pool in the garden, a small skate ramp. Hannes learned the basics of skating. Astrid disappeared to play dolls with the younger girl. We talked for hours. Ate ripe passion fruits from the garden. That kind of evening stays with you.

A day for myself

The next day was my turn to breathe. I used birthday money from my mother and mother-in-law to book a hair appointment. My natural red pigment fades quickly in sun and saltwater, and after weeks of travel, my hair had become patchy and uneven. I wanted a lighter, sun-friendly color — and five hours in a salon chair.

The only problem: the appointment took so long that we missed our boat to Nusa Lembongan. We laughed, found another affordable hotel nearby (even nicer than the previous one), bought Saturday sweets, and declared movie night. Some traditions deserve protection, even while traveling.

Learning while moving

Sanur gave us something we needed: a slower, more laidback and messy lifestyle.

This trip continues to teach us:
growth rarely feels linear,
togetherness requires constant adjustment,
and balance is something we build again and again.

Next stop: Nusa Lembongan!

Sanur, Bali!