We live in San Diego but spend 3 months in Bali every year

After several months of planning, we took off, heading to the beach town of Sanurwhere I had a bungalow in a reserved host and a three-month program 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 mothers I met – both Balinese and expat – he seemed much calmer and happier than I was used to seeing in the United States, and so were their children. 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 are going to do it now trip to Bali annual; 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 impact on me during my months in Bali. It is not just extended families who help them with the children; It felt like the whole island was tasked with taking care of the children.

It made sense, then, when I learned the literal meaning of the word ‘Ibu’ shortly after I was called ‘Ibu Michelle’. While it is used as an honorific – such as “ma’am” or “ma’am”. would be in English, the actual meaning of the word is “mother”. In Bali, I found that every “Ibu” I met treated my daughter as if she were their own. From offering her food to helping her up the uneven steps, she was constantly cared for by strangers and acquaintances around us.

I never felt judged by others

We moved to a new location during the second week of our trip, and when we arrived, small hotel that I had booked online was blocked. It closed a few weeks before, but the discount booking site I used has not removed the listing.

I sat with my child in my arms and two large suitcases at my feet, and nowhere to go, I take a deep breath to try not to let my panic show. By the time I found a new hotel—well past my daughter’s bedtime—I was exhausted, frustrated, and mentally overwhelmed.

As I tried to set it up portable cot with my baby crying, one of the kind women working at the hotel came over with a small toy and played with my daughter for a few minutes while I made the crib and wiped away the tears of relief.

I saw this wonderful gesture repeated daily while I was in Bali, either at a restaurant eating dinner or at the office doing paperwork. At first, I felt uncomfortable interacting with strangers with my child with such 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 it.

In the US, we can feel so anxious and burdened as parents with the daunting daily task of keeping a little human alive – let alone healthy and happy. The frustration that stems from the omnipresent pressure of parenting can lead us to judge ourselves or other parents harshly. I never felt judged for my parenting choices in Bali or for having a rough day. In Bali, it was felt that compassion was not only reserved for young children, but was generously given to parents as well. It took living on an island to realize that, as self-contained as I once liked to think of myself, no parent is an island.