I bought plane tickets to Bali when my daughter was 18 months old and going through her first “challenging” period. All of a sudden, I felt like I had jumped into the deep end of toddler parenting and was over my head trying to navigate this new stage.
I decided that we would pack up and go to Bali for three months — it sounded incomprehensible to my friends, but I knew it was something I needed to do.
After a few months of planning, we took off, heading to the beach town of Sanur, where we had a bungalow in a homestay reserved and a three-month schedule in a world schooling program that provided preschool for my daughter and a coworking space for me.
I learned a lot from other moms
Being 8,700 miles away from home, the moms I met — both Balinese and expat — seemed much calmer and happier than I was used to seeing in the United States, and so were their kids. While some of the approaches I observed didn’t resonate with me, I learned a lot.
It was so impactful that my daughter and I will now travel to Bali annually; we will spend three months on the island next year as well.
While the saying “it takes a village to raise a child” may be a cliché in the US, seeing it in action had a significant sway on me during my months in Bali. It isn’t just extended families that help with kids; it felt like the entire island was tasked with looking out for children.
It made sense, then, when I learned the literal meaning of the word “Ibu,” soon after being called “Ibu Michelle.” While it is used as an honorific — like “ma’am” or “Ms.” would be in English, the actual meaning of the word is “mother.” In Bali, I found that every “Ibu” we encountered treated my daughter as if she were their own. From offering her food to lending her a hand as she walked up uneven steps, she was cared for constantly by strangers and acquaintances around us.
I never felt judged by others
We moved to a new location the second week of our trip, and when we arrived, the small hotel that I had booked online was locked. It had shut down a few weeks prior, but the discount booking site I used hadn’t removed the listing.
I stood with my baby in my arms and two big suitcases at my feet, and no place to go, taking deep breaths to try not to let my panic show. By the time I had found a new hotel — way past my daughter’s naptime — I was mentally exhausted, frustrated, and overwhelmed.
As I tried to set up her portable crib with my toddler crying, one of the kind women who worked at the hotel came over with a small toy and played with my daughter for a few minutes while I got the crib set up and wiped away tears of relief.
This lovely gesture I saw repeated daily while we were in Bali, whether at a restaurant eating dinner or at the office doing paperwork. At first, it felt uncomfortable to have strangers interact with my toddler with so much familiarity, but soon, I leaned into this beautiful part of the culture. I’ve always been bad at asking for help, and in Bali, I never needed to.
In the US, we can feel so anxious and overburdened as parents with the daunting daily task of keeping a tiny human alive — let alone healthy and happy. The frustration that emits from the pervasive pressure of parenting can lead to harshly judging ourselves or other parents. I never felt judged for my parenting choices in Bali or for having a tough day. In Bali, it felt like compassion wasn’t just reserved for small children but given generously to parents as well. It took living on an island to realize that, as self-reliant as I once liked to consider myself, no parent is an island.
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