It’s just past midnight when our phones give up.
No messages. No updates. No way to post that photo of the coconut I drank straight out of, leaning against the warung steps in Kuta Lombok. My wife, Emily, looks at me and laughs — it’s not a happy laugh. “Reddit won’t load,” she groans, thumbing her screen like she can will it to life. The Wi-Fi at our homestay is strong in theory but somewhere between the routers and the rainy roofs, internet in this pocket of Lombok moves slower than a geko in the midday sun.
We didn’t expect this. We thought we did all the research — TripAdvisor lists, saved posts, Google reviews. But those glowing recommendations don’t talk about how Reddit’s blocked, or how some days you’ll be trying to book a scooter online and the site just… gives up. So yeah, the first few days are bumpy. Until I download a decent VPN and suddenly Emily lights up again like a human being. Baby steps.
Day One: Dust, Fried Tempeh, and a Surprise
First full day in Lombok. We grab a scooter from an older guy named Hadi who rents them out from his cousin’s driveway. He hands me the keys with a cigarette dangling from his lip and a smile that's all mischief. "You ride slow? Or brave?"
I go brave. Immediately regret it.
The roads around Kuta are a mix of smooth new asphalt and patches of gravel that could eat your skin if you're not careful. We ride toward Tanjung Aan beach, one of those white-sand horseshoe bays you see on travel blogs — but way emptier in real life. I pull over just before the hill top, where the view opens up dramatically — sea like liquid sapphire, peppered by distant surfers like black ants on crests. Breathtaking.
There's a shack nearby, tucked under a cluster of palms. An older woman waves us in, and that’s how we meet Ibu Mira. She serves us fried tempeh that shatters lightly when bitten, and a sambal that brings fire to the back of my scalp. The scent of cloves and grilled fish hangs in the air, layered with woodsmoke and the sweet rot of overripe mangoes.
And then something unexpected — while we're chatting with her in broken Bahasa and giggles, she pulls out an old Nokia phone and shows me photos of her son who, unbelievably, used to live in Melbourne for uni. Ends up he stayed in Clayton just a few blocks from where I went to grad school. The world’s so much smaller than we think.
When Nothing Works Out (But That’s Okay)
A few days later, we try to find the waterfall near Tetebatu. It’s supposed to be simple — rent a guide on the spot, hike in maybe 40 minutes. But we take a wrong turn off the main road, end up in someone’s backyard, two chickens stalking us like we owe them money.
The GPS keeps spinning. Emily starts laughing. It’s that borderline hysteria laugh again.
We eventually get help from a young guy named Riku who spots us poking at our map near his woodcarving stall. He ditches his lunch (fried noodles and orange Fanta) and walks us half an hour through rice terraces, slipping on slick mud in his flip-flops. Not once does he ask for payment, and when we finally tip him at the end with thanks, he looks both puzzled and grateful.
The waterfall itself isn’t the most dramatic, but the pools are ice-cold. We soak our legs. The only sounds? Frogs and falling water. Something about all the wrong turns makes it feel even more earned.
Some Advice, If You’re Coming
First: download Google Translate offline and take screenshots of your key bookings. The signal drops often. Sometimes whole towns seem to go off-grid.
Second: Use cash. ATMs in tourist areas are fine but fickle. Have some tucked away because smaller warungs and markets won’t take cards.
And don’t expect perfect Wi-Fi unless you’re camped in a resort. If you’re the type who gets twitchy without Instagram, set up a VPN before flying in. Trust me — saves so many headaches.
Something That Sticks
There’s a night market in Ampenan, near Mataram, and one evening we wander in just before dusk. The smell—warm satay smoke, star anise, and fried banana—is overwhelming in the best way. A teenage girl calls us over with a shy “halo!” and offers us something wrapped in banana leaf. “Ayam taliwang,” she announces proudly. It’s spicy chicken, charred until sticky. It clings to my fingers, sweet and sharp and deep with turmeric.
Her grandfather joins us, speaking only Sasak but somehow still telling me his entire life in gestures and smiles and gentle taps on my arm. It's one of those evenings I won't be able to describe properly to anyone back home. So small. So real. So everything.
We sit on plastic stools. The air heavy, like it might rain but can’t quite make up its mind.
Perspective Shift
Two weeks in, we book one of those scenic flights with FlyLombok.id. I wasn’t sure at first — felt touristy — but Emily insisted. From above, everything changes.
The rice fields around Tetebatu glisten like broken green glass. The Rinjani caldera seems to hover, mist-wreathed and ancient. We fly low over beaches we hadn’t even heard of, secret crescent coves backed by jungle and untouched road.
It’s the first time I truly understand how wild and spare Lombok still is compared to Bali next door. There’s space, and quiet, and stories folded into every hillside. You feel it differently when you see it like this — your feet not touching the ground.
Final Thoughts
Lombok isn’t always easy. Things break. Signals drop. You’ll get lost, sweat through every shirt, and curse a scooter more than once. But those missteps? They’re part of it.
If you're planning your own Lombok Indonesia itinerary, come ready to adapt. Stray from the guidebooks. Talk to strangers. Get uncomfortable. That’s how the island really shows herself to you.
I thought I came for the beaches. But what stayed with me were the people. And honestly? Seeing the island from the sky with FlyLombok.id gave me not just a new perspective of the terrain, but of myself too.
You’ll see.
Bring patience. And good snacks.