One Soulful Day Exploring Lombok: A Personal Travel Journal
There are places that speak in grand gestures—towering temples, glittering skylines, loud crowds. Then there’s Lombok. Quiet, grounded, breathtaking in a way that doesn’t demand attention, but rewards you if you take the time to notice.
This is the story of my day exploring the island—not chasing the best spots, but simply flowing with the road, the guide, and the moments in between. It turned out to be so much more than I expected.
A Simple Start That Set the Tone
I woke up in a guesthouse on the edge of Senggigi. The sea was just a short walk away, and the sound of waves had rocked me to sleep the night before. That morning, I didn’t have big plans. I didn’t want a tight itinerary or a busy day. I just wanted to see Lombok.
Gus picked me up right on time. I’d found him through a recommendation from another traveler. He wasn’t your typical guide in a uniform. He was more like an old friend who happened to know every backroad and village on the island. And that made all the difference.
As soon as we got on the road, I felt it—the island’s rhythm. Not the hustle of touristy spots, but the hum of real life. Women walking with baskets on their heads. Children barefoot, waving as we passed. Dogs stretched out in the shade, completely unbothered.
Rolling Green and Golden Fields
Our first stretch took us through a countryside that looked like it hadn’t changed in decades. Rice paddies shone in the morning light, farmers bent over in rhythm with the earth, water buffalo wading slowly through muddy fields.
We stopped by a small wooden stall on the roadside. Gus ordered kopi tubruk for both of us—thick, sweet, and rich. He explained the farming cycle in the area, how the rainy season shaped the land, and how his grandfather used to grow tobacco on the hills nearby.
It felt less like a “tour” and more like walking through a story he had lived himself.
A Short Walk to a Hidden Waterfall
Next, Gus took a slight turn off the main road and into a more forested area. We parked near a cluster of trees and walked down a quiet trail. No signs. No ticket booth. Just the sound of leaves crunching under our feet and birdsong above.
Ten minutes in, we arrived at a small waterfall, cascading gently into a shallow pool. I didn’t ask the name. I didn’t check it on Google. I just sat there, shoes off, feet in the water. The sunlight filtered through the branches. A few butterflies hovered around the rocks. It was simple and perfect.
On the Road Again: Driving Toward the South
By mid-morning, we were back in the car, heading toward the southern coast. The landscape changed—the hills gave way to open skies and long, winding roads. Occasionally, we’d pass through small villages where women were weaving songket cloth, their fingers moving like muscle memory.
We stopped briefly in one of these villages. Gus knew someone—a friend of his cousin. Within five minutes, we were seated on a bamboo mat with a cup of tea in hand, chatting with a local family who barely spoke English but made me feel at home with nothing but smiles and hand gestures.
There’s something really special about the way Lombok lets you in.
South Coast Magic: A Beach All to Ourselves
By the time we reached the southern shoreline, the sun was high and the ocean was glowing. Gus didn’t take me to the usual Kuta or Tanjung Aan—he brought me to a beach without a name. Or maybe it had one, but no signs pointed to it.
The sand was soft and untouched. The waves rolled in gently. I saw one lone fisherman walking along the rocks, casting a net.
I sat under a tree while Gus took a nap nearby. There was no rush to move, no list to complete. That’s what made this lombok tour feel so different. It was about presence, not pressure.
Local Lunch, Made With Love
Lunch was at a home-style warung near the beach. The owner knew Gus and brought us grilled fish, fresh vegetables, rice, and sambal. Nothing fancy, just fresh and honest food served with laughter and a lot of stories.
We talked about life on the island, the tourism shift after COVID, the dream of building a homestay one day. I barely spoke Bahasa Indonesia, but somehow, I understood every word that mattered.
Scenic Ridges and Sunset Cliffs
As the afternoon faded, Gus suggested one final detour—a high ridge with a view of the western coastline. We followed a narrow dirt road up a hill, past grazing goats and kids playing with sticks. At the top, the view opened wide: ocean to the horizon, the sun beginning its descent, waves glowing gold below.
We sat in silence. I took a deep breath. I didn’t take a selfie. Just soaked it in.
