Same Island, Different Worlds

One of the things I’ve come to appreciate most about travel is the constant dance between extremes. Comfort and discomfort. Luxury and simplicity. One doesn’t hold the same weight without the other, and nowhere has that contrast felt more present than in Bali. 

It’s wild how easily both sides of the spectrum exist here. You can stay in a dreamy villa with a private pool for the same price as a run down motel back in the U.S., and then walk outside and see the raw, grounded beauty of daily Balinese life right next door. It’s the same planet — and sometimes, even the same tiny island — but truly different worlds.

People often ask, “How do you do it? How do you travel like this?”

The answer is almost too simple: you book the flight, and you figure it out.

What people see are the highlights, the curated Instagrammable moments. But what people are not usually seeing are the moments where you’re brushing your teeth next to a cockroach or sweating in a room with one shared fan and eight beds.

That said, Bali did make it surprisingly easy to live well, even on a budget.

Throughout my travels, I’ve stayed in hostels more times than I can count. For some, that sounds like a nightmare; for others, it’s the only way to go. They’re social, budget friendly, and ideal for solo travelers. But most of the hostels I’ve experienced — especially in Europe were, let’s just say, character building. Think, no AC, one fan for eight people, cleanliness that leaves a lot to be desired, and the occasional bug encounter.

In Bali, we opted for Airbnbs for most of the trip; cool air, plenty of space, clean pools, all for around $20 a night. It felt like such a treat. But there was one hostel stay that came at just the right time. It was only $10 a night, which sounds unbeatable — but for us, we realized we could have our own Airbnb for almost the same price. Those few nights grounded us. We were quickly reminded how nice it is to have a cockroach free bathroom and a shower you don’t need to wear shoes in. 

Bali is incredibly affordable for many foreign travelers. A local meal at a warung might cost you $2, and a full spread at a stylish café, latte, meal, maybe even dessert, $8 total. And that generosity the island invites in return? It’s humbling. A $3 tip to a driver might be half his day’s income.

I remember when Justina asked a scooter driver how much he made in a day. His answer: about $18 USD. That’s after 12 hours on the road, Uber-style. The realization hit me hard. This level of privilege I was moving through life with… it felt confronting.

One person who left a deep impression on us was Jon, a man who sold coconuts on the roadside in Canggu.  His smile was radiant and his laughter playful and contagious.  When we returned the next day, he greeted us like old friends, full of jokes and joy, and a feeling of comfortability. 

Jon from the Coconut Stand

Though we hadn’t planned to go back to Canggu, the universe nudged us there one last time for tattoos. After dinner that night, as we were picking up last minute souvenirs for our loved ones, we saw Jon closing up his stand. He saw us too. As we are about to order Grab back to Kuta, where we were staying that night. He said “Cancel your Grab, I’ll take you.” It being the final hours before our flight, I told him I had no cash left, thinking it would be unfair to accept. He smiled and said, “No worries, you are my friend. I’m going that way anyway.”

That moment of pure, unsolicited kindness? It stayed with me, nearly bringing me to tears. Later, when we exchanged contacts, I asked him about life, out of curiosity. He told me he didn’t have a bed to sleep on. He sleeps on the floor, because even the most basic mattress, about $40–60 USD, is out of reach for him right now.

It floored me. How can I be staying in a villa, swimming in a private pool, eating out twice a day, while someone like Jon, full of joy and generosity, sleeps on the floor?

That question stuck with me — and it’s not unique to Bali. I’ve experienced similar realities in other countries, too. As an empath, it’s hard not to carry the weight of that. To wonder what more you could do. But I remind myself: I can help where I can, give what I can, and most importantly, stay deeply grateful for the position I’m in. I can’t fix the world, but I can acknowledge my privilege.

And yet, so many of the people I met who had much less, in material terms, were among the happiest and most content. One man we met in Kuta had an ex-girlfriend in Australia who invited him to move there. He declined. He loved his island life. We met someone else in Nusa Lembongan with a similar story. Both men turned down the promise of more money for a life they already loved.

That’s the balance of it all. 

Ultimately, this is how we do it. We prioritize. We listen to what feels right. After years of budget travel, we’ve joked that maybe we’ve earned a little more comfort. Maybe splurging on an Airbnb is our version of treating ourselves — but even then, we’re still conscious of our choices. Picking and choosing what to prioritize. Sometimes that means a “luxury” stay. Other times, it means enduring a sweaty, smelly hostel to make space in the budget for something else.

The contrast between luxury and lack is what makes both feel real. The lows give meaning to the highs. The highs give meaning to the lows. And the gratitude that lives between the two – that’s what keeps us grounded.

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After a much-needed pause, we’re so glad to be back — and there’s still so much more of Bali to share. Stay tuned for the rest of the journey, and if this piece stirred anything in you, we’d love to hear it. The conversation is always open.