Bali, You’ve Changed — But So Have I

Some things I love. Some things I miss.

I have been coming to Bali since 1976, which is a slightly alarming thing to write because it makes me sound ancient. Over those years, I have certainly seen Bali change. Some of those changes have been wonderful. Others, if I am being polite, I could probably have done without.

And yet, I keep coming back. This time, though, arriving in Bali felt a little different.

Caring for My 94-Year-Old Dad in Perth

Before coming here, I had spent several weeks in Perth with my dad, who recently turned 94. For 94, he is actually doing remarkably well. He has the usual collection of aches and pains that come with having a body that has been operating for nearly a century, but he is still mobile, still living at home and, most definitely, still capable of keeping everyone around him on their toes.

What I noticed more this time was just how impulsive and needy he has become. My son is Dad’s primary carer, and I knew looking after him wasn’t easy. But knowing something and actually doing it yourself are two very different things.

So, while we were in Perth, we decided my son deserved a proper break from caring. Off he went, and I stepped into his shoes. That was when I discovered my 94-year-old father has apparently turned into a naughty toddler. The main difference is that toddlers are smaller and easier to pick up.

You can have Dad safely settled in his lift chair, television on, everything within reach, and think, Right, he’s fine. I can relax for five minutes. Then you look again and he is in the backyard attempting to start the lawnmower. We have a gardener. “Dad, what are you doing?” Apparently, this is an unreasonable question.

I think the problem is that his brain still remembers the man who could mow the lawn, climb ladders, fix things and bend down without having to develop an exit strategy for getting back up again. His body, unfortunately, did not get the memo.

So you watch. And watch. And watch some more. We now have cameras around the house, and I found myself constantly checking them to make sure everything was all right in the next room. It is a strange feeling monitoring your own father like a particularly unpredictable Airbnb guest.

Thankfully, we also have Larah, my son’s dog, who has appointed herself Dad’s unofficial therapy dog and early-warning system. Nobody asked her to take on the role, but she takes it very seriously. If something isn’t quite right, Larah lets us know.

This included the occasion when Dad decided to pick something up from the lounge-room floor and promptly face-planted beside it. Larah raised the alarm. Dad survived. I aged approximately four years.

And somewhere during those weeks, I began to understand just how exhausting caring for someone can be. Not necessarily because something terrible is happening every minute, but because something could happen every minute.

You never completely switch off. Which perhaps explains why, when we finally boarded the plane for Bali, I was more than ready for a change of scenery.

But I digress.

Why I Needed Bali This Time

After weeks of constantly having one eye on Dad, arriving back in Bali was exactly what I needed. I needed quiet. I needed to sit somewhere without wondering what was happening in the next room. I needed to wake up in the morning and know that the only person I was responsible for getting safely through the day was myself.

There is something about Bali that still allows me to do that. Despite all the changes I have seen over the years, I can still find those little pockets of Bali where life seems to slow down. A quiet morning, a long breakfast, nowhere particularly important to be and, best of all, nobody attempting to mow a lawn they have absolutely no business mowing.

The food helps too. After spending so much time in Vietnam, coming back to Indonesian food is a complete change. The flavors are stronger, richer and often spicier. Satay, nasi goreng, rendang, sambal and then all the wonderful little cafés and restaurants that seem to appear every time we return. Vietnamese food often feels light and fresh to me. Bali food feels like it arrives with a bit more attitude.

And my husband certainly agrees about the food.

On our first day in Bali, we stumbled across a little warung near where we were staying. Nothing fancy, just one of those places you find by accident and end up being very glad you did.

He ordered a particularly spicy version of the chicken satay. And loved it. I don’t mean, “That was nice, I might have that again. I mean he really loved it.

Over the next few days, he would occasionally announce that he needed a break from the project he was working on and was just going to get out for a walk. Fair enough, I thought. We all need a break from work.

It took me several days to realise that these little breaks seemed to be happening with suspicious regularity. Eventually, the truth came out. He wasn’t taking a break from his project. He was sneaking back to the warung for another plate of spicy chicken satay.

Apparently, Bali had given him exactly what he needed too. Mine was relaxation. His was satay.

Bali Food, Bali Traffic and Eight Kilometres in 40 Minutes

Of course, Bali being Bali, the serenity lasts right up until you decide to go somewhere.

Then you get in a car. Suddenly the peaceful tropical island disappears and you are surrounded by motorbikes, cars, delivery riders, tourists, dogs, roadworks and the occasional person who appears to have invented their own set of road rules.

Eight kilometres away? Lovely. See you in about 40 minutes. Maybe. This is probably one of the biggest changes I have noticed over all my years of coming to Bali. There are simply so many more people, cars, motorbikes, hotels, villas and developments competing for the same amount of space.

Sometimes I look out of the car window at the traffic barely moving and wonder why on earth I keep coming back. Then we finally arrive. I sit down somewhere lovely, order something delicious, feel myself relax again and remember exactly why.

It can frustrate me enormously and charm me completely, sometimes within the same hour.

Why a Bali Sunset Never Gets Old

And then there are the sunsets. No matter how much Bali changes, I don’t think I will ever tire of a Bali sunset. There is something very special about sitting in one of the hundreds of little beach bars with a cold drink in your hand, your feet in the sand and nowhere else you need to be.

As the sun starts to drop, everything seems to slow down. The sky changes from blue to gold, then orange and sometimes the most incredible shades of pink and red. Eventually, the sun reaches the horizon and seems to be swallowed by the ocean, leaving this beautiful golden glow across the water.

For a few minutes, everyone seems to stop and watch. And I do too. I have seen more Bali sunsets than I could possibly count since my first visit in 1976, but somehow, they never become ordinary.

Has Tourism Changed the Real Bali?

There is another change in Bali that troubles me more than the traffic.

Bali still appears to be an incredibly happy place. There are smiles everywhere, but sometimes I wonder how much of that happiness is genuine and how much is connected to the need for the tourist dollar.

At times, I feel like a walking wallet with everyone wanting their little share. I don’t blame people for wanting to earn a living.Tourism feeds an enormous number of families  but I do wonder what the price of all this tourism has been.

The Bali I first knew had such a strong sense of culture and spirituality. Ceremonies, offerings, temples and family traditions were simply part of everyday life. They are certainly still here, but sometimes I wonder whether they remain at the heart of Balinese life or whether some have gradually become part of the experience being presented to tourists.

Has Bali gained enormous prosperity from tourism but lost a little of itself along the way? Perhaps that is an unfair question for a visitor like me to ask. After all, I am one of those tourists who keeps coming back.

And maybe that is the uncomfortable part. We love Bali for what makes it different, while our very presence helps to change it.

The Real Reason We Returned to Bali

But the real reason for this trip to Bali wasn’t actually about Bali at all.

It was about a very special friend of mine.

She turns 70 next week, and for the past two years she has been planning how she wanted to celebrate it. Her wish was quite simple: to be in Bali surrounded by her family and a small, carefully chosen group of friends who have been an important part of her life.

Two years is a long time to plan a birthday, and of course life doesn’t stand still while you are making plans.

What she couldn’t possibly have known when this all began was that by the time her 70th arrived, there would be two new grandbabies joining the celebration. Two wonderful little additions to the family that hadn’t even been imagined when the first plans were made.

Sadly, there were also friends she had expected to be here who, for their own reasons, decided not to come. I know that disappointed her. When you choose the people you want beside you for an important milestone, their absence is noticed.

We were never going to be among the missing. This was our friend’s special birthday, and we planned this part of our travels around being here to celebrate it with her.

Celebrating a 70th Birthday, Bali Style

We all gathered at the beautiful Indie Villas, which she had completely booked out for the occasion.

For those few days, it became our own little private resort. There was nowhere we needed to be and nothing we needed to do except hang out together, talk, laugh, eat, drink and enjoy each other’s company.

And that was exactly how she wanted it.

The actual day of her 70th became something of a day-long festival. There was wonderful food, plenty of drinks, lots of conversation and even more laughter. Nothing felt rushed and there wasn’t some complicated schedule of things we had to do.

But for me, the best part was simply watching my friend enjoy herself.

After two years of planning, and despite a few challenges along the way, she was finally surrounded by the people who had made the effort to be there. I could see just how much it meant to her.

Of course, being 70 apparently also means being wise enough to plan for the consequences of a day-long celebration. She had arranged for two lovely Balinese women to come to the villa the following day and give us massages. Recovery, Bali style. And I have to say, it was a very good plan.

After four wonderful days together, it was time for everyone to go their separate ways. Some headed back home to Perth, others stayed on to enjoy a longer holiday in Bali, and for us it was time to return to Da Nang, where we are now living.

Sometimes You Need to Leave to Know Where Home Is

It has been an interesting seven weeks.

Perth gave me precious time with my dad and, perhaps more importantly, a much better understanding of just how much my son does for him every day. It wasn’t always easy, and there were certainly moments when Dad tested my patience, but at 94 I know how fortunate I am to still have those moments with him.

Bali gave me something completely different. It gave me time to relax, time with a very special friend and the privilege of being there to watch her celebrate a milestone she had been planning for two years. It also reminded me that Bali, like all of us, has changed. There are things about the Bali of today that I love and things I wish had never changed at all.

But perhaps the biggest surprise was what being away made me realise about Da Nang. I missed it. Not because it is perfect. It isn’t.

I missed my friends, my familiar places and the little routines that probably sound incredibly boring to anyone else. Most of all, I missed the uncomplicated life we have created there.

Maybe that is what home becomes as we get older. It isn’t necessarily where we were born, where our family lives or even the place filled with the most memories. Perhaps home is simply the place where, after seven weeks away, you find yourself thinking: I’ve had a wonderful time, but I’m ready to go home now.

And for me, that place is Da Nang.

About the Author:

Sheridan-Leigh is the passionate voice behind the MyLifestyle Blog, where life is celebrated with vibrant stories and insightful travel tips. With a deep love for slow travel, she believes in truly experiencing each destination, creating connections beyond the surface. Her blog is a blend of personal stories, expert advice, and a philosophy that life is for living to the fullest and is rich with opportunities for growth and adventure. Join Sheridan-Leigh as she shares her journey, inspiring others to embrace life, travel deeply, and live fully.

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