Canang Sari [an Indonesian travel diary, pt. IV]

Canang Sari is a traditional Balinese offering central to Hindu rituals in Bali, Indonesia. It consists of a small, colourful arrangement of flowers and other items (rice, candies, cigarettes, sometimes even coffee), typically placed on an offering tray, to honour the gods, spirits and ancestors

For PART 3

DAY 17 (18.11.24) BALI, Nusa Penida

The day started early, alarm ringing before the crack of dawn because I had a 7:15 rendezvous with the dive crew. Breakfast was a quick but satisfying affair at the cottage: moist banana pancakes paired with the freshest fruit imaginable. Fortified and ready, I hopped on my scooter, only to realize I’d plugged the wrong dive center into Google Maps…. After a scenic detour (read: unnecessary scooter sprint), I made it to DPM Diving Center, fashionably late but forgiven.

My dive guide for the day was Audrey, a capable and laid-back local, and my fellow divers were two German women who seemed to have brought their serious expressions to paradise… After a thorough briefing about dive spots and safety (Manta Point and Crystal Bay) we boarded the boat under a postcard-perfect sky.

The ride to Manta Point was spectacular in itself. Cruising along Nusa Penida’s dramatic southwest coastline, we passed jagged cliffs and iconic landmarks visible only from the water. Once we reached the spot, we suited up. My wetsuit felt like armour and the weights rivaled a workout routine, but it all paid off. The dive was breathtaking. Massive, majestic, and utterly mesmerizing manta rays glided effortlessly around us. Some were pregnant, others were mating, and a few were jet-black and huge enough to make me feel like plankton. Visibility was stellar, and the experience was surreal, aside from the snorkelers above, who seemed hell-bent on chasing the mantas. Still, sharing the water with 25–30 of these gentle giants made it unforgettable.

After the dive, we sailed to Crystal Bay, a spot famed for its clear waters and coral reefs. On the way, dolphins danced alongside the boat (a good omen, it seemed). The dive itself was deeper and more challenging, with swirling currents ranging from warm to icy, but the marine life made it worth it. Audrey spotted a sea snake (a reminder that some of the most venomous creatures can also be chill), and we encountered colourful schools of fish, pufferfish, and even a rare frogfish. Then came the highlight: a wall of dolphins underwater, moving like a synchronized dance team. It felt unreal, like a dream you don’t want to wake up from.

Post-dive, I grabbed an overpriced bowl at a nearby café, more Instagrammable than edible, but the coconut coffee redeemed the experience. Back at the cottage for a quick reset, I decided to explore the island further.

Scooter ready, I ventured to Angel’s Billabong, a natural infinity pool carved into the rocky cliffs. Getting there involved dodging a “parking fee” scam (successfully) and navigating a maze of coconut stalls run by friendly locals. The view? Gorgeous emerald water spilling into the ocean, but the tourist scene was a bit of a circus. Cue Russian influencers and cringe photo ops. Just next door, though, Broken Beach, a circular bay framed by a rock archway, stole the show.

I skipped Smoky Beach, given the awful road conditions and my desire to catch sunset at Crystal Bay.

Crystal Bay delivered on every front: black sand, fishermen’s boats creating picture-perfect silhouettes, and an islet off the coast adding to the charm. As the golden hour intensified, the sky transformed into a symphony of colors: orange, pink, red, and purple. It rivaled sunsets I’d seen in Palawan but somehow felt even more enchanting. I swam, I photographed, and I lingered until the beach was almost empty, kids playing in the surf and stray dogs adding the final poetic touch.

Back at the cottage, a quick shower and a plate of cap cay (Indonesian veggie stir-fry) rounded out the day. By bedtime, I was blissfully exhausted, grateful to have experienced Nusa Penida’s raw beauty once again. The following day promises a slower pace, and honestly, I was ready for it.

DAY 18 (19.11.24) BALI, Nusa Penida -> LOMBOK, Gili Air

I woke up early, even without an alarm. No plans, no rush: just a slow, simple morning. Breakfast was at Warung Jun: a delicious omelette paired with fresh fruit. After that, I lingered on the veranda of my guesthouse, snapping pictures to capture the charm of what felt like one of the most authentic places I’d stayed. Eventually, I packed up, checked out, and made my way to the harbor. Overpriced coffee in hand, I stocked up on sunscreen, aloe vera, and deodorant at a local pharmacy, guessing they’d cost more on Gili Air (I was right!).

The ferry ride was uneventful: a couple of hours with a stop at Gili Trawangan before reaching Gili Air. When I arrived, it was drizzling, and by the time I walked through town to my accommodation at Old Village, I was soaked. Daniel, the friend I’d met on Mount Batur, was already there, having arrived earlier that day. The place itself was a traditional straw cottage, cozy and simple. After dropping off my stuff, we set off to explore the island which really didn’t take long. We circled the entire island on foot in just about an hour, catching up and reconnecting along the way.

First impressions? Gili Air was way more touristic than I’d imagined. I’d expected something pristine and authentic, but instead, I found streets lined with French, Italian, and Greek restaurants, souvenir shops, and a southern hub buzzing with tourists. The horse-drawn carts, a scooter-and-car-free island staple, felt a little forced, but hey, they’re practical and quite eye-candy.

We headed to the west coast to swim, but the water was so shallow it barely reached our knees. The seabed was mostly dead coral, so walking barefoot was out of the question. After this failed attempt, we retreated to the beach for cocktails. We met an amusing Australian couple in their sixties who enthusiastically shared their favourite cocktail spots on the island, as if it was the main reason they made it there in the first place. By the time the sky cleared, we were treated to a spectacular sunset; not quite Nusa Penida levels, but impressive for an otherwise grey day.

Dinner that night was a letdown. After wandering the east coast, we picked a grilling spot that seemed promising. Fresh fish on display? Not so much. The actual food came from the kitchen, and it was underwhelming. Our skewers of supposed tuna, calamari, and shrimp were just okay. The salads? A Western-style all-you-can-eat bar, overpriced and uninspired. It stung more because earlier, we’d had an incredible lunch at a local warung. For a fraction of the price, we’d piled our plates with jackfruit curry, fried tuna, tempeh, and other flavourful dishes, all served by a woman with a badass attitude.

After dinner, the island quieted down fast. By 11, we were back at Old Village, Bintang in one hand, clove cigarette in the other, fast asleep, ready to see what the next day would bring

DAY 19 (20.11.24) LOMBOK, Gili Air and Gili Meno

The day kicked off early with a yoga class at H2 Yoga. I left a bit earlier to soak in the serene morning light, passing kids on their way to school and locals starting their daily routines. The class was set in a stunning open-air space, led by Maddie, an L.A. instructor. What started soft quickly turned into a sweaty, challenging 75 minutes. By the end, I was drenched, slipping on my own skin, but it felt amazing. Back at the cottage, a cold shower was a must before meeting Daniel for breakfast.

We headed to Kopi Susu Gili Air, a trendy cafe recommended by Apollonia (a friend of Clemence). It could’ve been anywhere hip in the world, serving sourdough, scrambled eggs, and other Western staples, including a spectacular iced oat milk coffee. Which, I have to admit, I didn’t mind at all after almost three weeks in Indonesia. Post-breakfast, we decided to take a ferry to Gili Meno, thinking we’d already explored Gili Air enough.

Gili Meno turned out to be everything I had expected from the Gili Islands: peaceful, authentic, and untouched by over-tourism. The unpaved streets led past simple straw houses, lush nature, and the occasional warung. It was scorching, though, and even with sunscreen, my sunburned back was struggling. We reached the east coast, greeted by crystal-clear water in stunning shades of blue. But again, swimming was tricky since, once again, the shallow seabed was covered in dead coral.

We tried lounging at a resort’s beach chairs but balked at the fees, settling instead on the sand. Over a shared fruit plate, we dove into deeper conversations, as we had since meeting. The sky turned dramatically grey-blue, moody and refreshing, a contrast to the relentless heat. On our way back to the harbor, we stumbled upon a charming local village. Boats lined the beach, some being painted, others disassembled, and the scene was so beautifully raw it made me want to shoot endlessly.

We caught the last ferry back to Gili Air and talked about heavier topics, including Israel and the war, which Daniel found understandably difficult to discuss. Once back, I sorted out my ferry and shuttle to Kuta Lombok for the next day before we wandered to the harbour for dinner. The sunset was breathtaking: an explosion of orange and red, framed by violet and blue. Kids played in the water while locals grilled food on the beach.

I had bakso (meatball soup with noodles) and a flavorful yellow rice dish topped with shredded chicken, sambal, and coconut flakes, honestly a dream of a meal (for litteraly not more than the equivalent of 50cents). Daniel wanted something heftier, so we returned to the warung from the day before, where I tried green crepes filled with coconut sugar (absolutely divine).

By 7:30, the island was dark and quiet. We grabbed a beer, returned to our cottage, and spent the evening on the veranda, chatting about everything from our sexuality to coming out, all while music played softly in the background. By 9:30, exhaustion hit, and I passed out almost immediately.

DAY 20 (21.11.24) LOMBOK, Gili Air -> Kuta Lombok

I woke up before my alarm at 6:40, taking the morning slow despite a brief struggle with the previous night’s spicy dinner. After a shower, I waited for Daniel to wake up, and we strolled down to the beach for breakfast. From a local food stand, I grabbed a banana pancake and fresh fruit, honestly, the best I’ve had on this trip. The coffee at Kopi Susu Gili Air, however, didn’t quite live up to the previous day’s one (proof that a good barista can make a huge difference). We wandered a bit, then packed up. Daniel was off to Bali, and I was heading to Kuta Lombok.

Saying goodbye to Daniel felt bittersweet. The two days we spent together were filled with real conversations and a genuine connection. I know we’ll meet again. At the harbour, I discovered my ferry wouldn’t leave until at least 40 passengers showed up, so I waited on the scorching beach, battling the heat. Eventually, we boarded, and a local struck up a conversation. He was a medical worker and photographer, showing me his portfolio, which was impressive.

Once in Lombok, the shuttle to Kuta Lombok was easy to find. I shared it with three young surfers, already giving me a preview of the town’s vibe. The two-hour ride wound through lush mountains, rain-drenched fields, chaotic cityscapes, and finally brought us to the south coast.

Wanderlust Hostel was welcoming, with friendly staff, but the scene was very “too cool for school,” dominated by surf bros. Not exactly my vibe, but I checked in and set out to explore. My first stop: finding a surf school. After checking a few, I signed up with Rama Surf School for an intermediate lesson. At 500,000 IDR (almost 30 euro), it wasn’t cheap, but it included transport to another beach and a boat ride. I had to hope I didn’t oversell my abilities…

To make the most of the day, I rented a scooter and rode to Selong Belanak Beach, known as one of the area’s most stunning spots. The journey itself was magical: rolling countryside, water buffaloes, and glimpses of rural life. The beach was vast, lined with surfers bars and dotted with fishing boats. It reminded me of Crystal Bay in Nusa Penida but on a grander scale.

I threw on my speedo and waded into the refreshingly water (for Indonesian standards), then took a long walk down the coast. At the cliffs, I watched fishermen cast their lines directly from the rocks as the waves crashed below. The sunset wasn’t extraordinary but still charming, with soft pastel hues. As darkness fell, the coastline lit up with fishermen’s boat lights, creating a mesmerizing display.

Back at the hostel, the vibe hadn’t changed: surf bros flirting with the few women there. I cleaned up and headed to Warung Lamina, a bustling local spot with stellar reviews. Dinner was a hearty feast: grilled chicken with an incredible sauce, fried tempeh, and spicy sambal. Despite the delicious flavors, it was heavy, and I struggled to finish.

Back in my room, I waited for my roommates to turn off the lights, feeling self-conscious about my quite gross peeling sunburn: my back was flaking like a snake. First impressions of Kuta Lombok? Mixed. Undeniably a surf town with a laid-back atmosphere, but the hyper-masculine, heteronormative energy of Western surfers felt at odds with the mellow escape I envisioned. Still, I kinda expected the following day’s surf lesson to shift my perspective.

DAY 21 (22.11.24) LOMBOK, Kuta Lombok

Woke up to a blazing sun and an unusual excitement for my surfing class. It was a strong contrast to the fear I felt tackling waves in Taghazout, Morocco. This time, I was ready. Breakfast was a classic: a stack of fluffy pancakes topped with fresh fruit, my go-to meal in Indonesia.

At the surf school I met my instructor, Nan, an 18-year-old local surfer, and lucked into a private lesson even though I’d paid for a group class. Very unusual win! I rolled up in just my speedo (raising some eyebrows), and they handed me swim shorts saying that my attire wasn’t acceptable (RUDE!) before we zipped off to Tanjung Aan Beach, a dreamy, secluded bay perfect for beginners.

At the beach, I bumped into Ramiz from my hostel and two other travelers, Florence and Kat. The vibe was great, and soon we were all headed out together to catch waves. A fisherman’s boat took us to the surf spot, where I rediscovered my rhythm within minutes. The waves were gentler than Taghazout, which made the session even more fun and manageable. Riding about 80% of the waves, the thrill was incredible, and the general excitement in the water made it even better.

Post-surf, exhaustion hit. I refuelled with a fruit plate while the others grabbed lunch, and we made loose plans for the evening. Before heading back to the hostel, I couldn’t resist some exploring and rode my scooter to Mawi Beach. The journey there was rough (gravel roads, potholes, and all) but the scenery was pure magic. Endless palm trees, green hills and water buffalo lazing in mud ponds. Mawi itself was nearly empty, with just a handful of people scattered on the soft sands. I took a swim, soaked up the sun, and enjoyed the pro surfers putting on a show in the distance.

On the way back, I stopped to photograph some buffalo and encountered local kids asking for money. It was a side of Indonesia I hadn’t experienced yet, and I felt a bit uneasy. Back at the hostel, I had a much-needed cold shower (finally with soap after days without… true fact: hostels here don’t provide shower gel), caught up with Anna, the sweet Muslim girl running the place, and prepped for the evening.

The sunset plan was Seger Beach, a viewpoint with panoramic coastal views. After some hill-climbing confusion, I found the group: backpackers chilling with music, beers, and incredible energy. Unfortunately at that point the light wasn’t bright enough for my analogue cameras. As I always do when I miss a photo chance, I promised myself to wake up earlier the following morning to get my chance. I still don’t get how, every single time, I fool myself to believe it’ll happen. Dinner followed at a tiny local spot, Warung Bu De, where a feast of spicy chicken and mango juice cost me less than €2.

The night escalated at a party hostel with a DJ, cocktails, and even a pool. Borrowing swim trunks from Léo, a super friendly French traveler, I joined the crew (Florence, Ramiz, and a mix of others from all over) for a late-night swim. The vibe was electric, the conversations hilarious, but I bowed out before the party moved elsewhere. With my Komodo trip ahead, I needed rest and some quiet time to reflect.

Leaving Kuta felt bittersweet. What started as uncertainty turned into a whirlwind of connection, fun, and unexpected adventures. Surfing with new friends, discovering hidden beaches, and watching sunsets from hilltops: I could’ve easily stayed longer. But sometimes, the best memories are made when you leave while the magic is still fresh.