How to Spend 3 Days in Bali

How to Spend 3 Days in Bali: A Tapestry of Temples, Rice Terraces, and Tides

By Naudars Zvaigzne

Day 1: Sunrise Offerings and Ubud’s Emerald Heart

Bali, that emerald teardrop in the Indian Ocean, greets you at dawn with a chorus of roosters and the scent of frangipani. It is impossible not to believe in spirits here; they dwell in the morning mist, in the soft hush of the rice fields, in the kind smile of your driver, Made, who insists you try his aunt’s banana bread.

Start your pilgrimage in Ubud, the verdant soul of the island. As the sun stretches over the paddy fields, make your way to the Tegalalang Rice Terraces. Here, the terraces ripple like green silk, each step edged with dewdrops and the laughter of farmers in conical hats. Take a moment to watch a duck parade—Bali’s most diligent pest control—and remember, in Bali, even ducks have sacred duties.

For breakfast, skip the hotel buffet. Instead, duck into a warung (a local eatery) where the nasi campur is served by a grandmother with hands as soft as rain. It is here, among the chattering locals, that you’ll taste Bali’s true flavor: a pinch of chili, a dash of coconut, and a dollop of gentle chaos.

Ubud is not just rice and rooster; it is also the island’s artistic pulse. Wander into the Monkey Forest, where long-tailed macaques hold court among moss-clad statues. They are, by local legend, distant cousins to Hanuman the monkey god, and they will not hesitate to relieve you of your sunglasses if you look too serious.

As the afternoon wanes, visit the Pura Taman Saraswati—a lotus-filled water temple dedicated to the goddess of wisdom. Here, dragonflies dance above pink blooms, and the air is thick with the scent of incense. In Bali, even the stones seem to hum with ancient tales.

End your day with a balinese massage—a ritual as essential as breathing. Let the oil-slicked hands knead away your jetlag, and drift off to the lullaby of gamelan and distant thunder.

Day 2: Volcanoes, Villages, and the Taste of Adventure

Awake before the roosters and journey north to Mount Batur. Bali’s sacred volcano is best climbed before sunrise, the path lit only by starlight and your own stubborn hope. At the summit, the world unfurls beneath you—a tapestry of lake, lava fields, and villages waking to another day. Your guide, Wayan, boils eggs in the volcanic steam, and as you bite into your sulfur-tinged breakfast, you wonder if the gods are laughing.

On the way back, stop at a traditional coffee plantation. Here, a wizened farmer will show you the secrets of kopi luwak—coffee brewed from beans digested by civet cats. It is an acquired taste, like fermented herring or your uncle’s poetry, but in Bali, the journey is always as important as the destination.

Next, detour to Tirta Empul, a water temple famed for its holy springs. Join the procession of pilgrims as they slip into the cool pools, each fountain promising a blessing—purity, prosperity, peace. The priest, resplendent in white, scatters petals and laughter. For a moment, you are not a tourist but a supplicant, washed clean by water and wonder.

Lunch is in the village of Sidemen, a place where time ambles and the only traffic is a herd of ducks. Here, the view is a living postcard: undulating rice terraces, distant volcanoes, and the scent of lemongrass on the breeze. Practice a little sustainable travel—choose a local homestay, where your presence nourishes the community and your stories are woven into the fabric of the village.

As the sun slouches toward the horizon, take a gentle walk through the fields. Children wave, women weave, and somewhere a gamelan orchestra tunes up for the night. In Bali, everyone is an artist, and every moment is a ceremony.

Day 3: Temples by the Sea and the Sacred Art of Doing Nothing

On your final day, head south to Bali’s coastline, where cliffs tumble into the sea and temples cling to the rocks like barnacles.

First, Uluwatu Temple—perched on a craggy bluff, where the Indian Ocean gnaws at the land. Arrive before sunset, and watch as monkeys perform their own brand of slapstick comedy. As the sky blushes pink, the Kecak dancers begin—a chorus of fire and rhythm, ancient as the waves. The trance-like performance, with its hypnotic chanting, blurs the boundary between this world and the next.

Lunch is grilled fish at Jimbaran Beach, toes in the sand, salt on your lips. Practice the sacred art of lepak—doing nothing. Watch fishermen mend their nets, children chase crabs, and the horizon shimmer with promise.

For your final blessing, visit Tanah Lot, a temple adrift at high tide, sculpted by centuries of surf and prayer. Here, the sunset is not just a daily occurrence but a performance—a slow unfurling of gold and indigo, witnessed by lovers, pilgrims, and the occasional stray dog.

As night falls, and the island glows with the flicker of a thousand offerings, you realize that Bali, like all true journeys, is a dance between the sacred and the everyday. Its magic is not just found in temples or rice fields but in the spaces between—a shared smile, a whispered legend, the hush of dawn.

Practical Tips and Sustainable Notes:

• Bring a reusable water bottle—Bali’s heat is no joke, and every plastic bottle avoided is a small blessing to the island’s beauty.
• Dress modestly when visiting temples; a borrowed sarong and sash will suffice, and the gods will thank you for your effort.
• Support local artisans—skip the mass-produced souvenirs and find a hand-carved mask or a batik scarf, each imbued with the artist’s soul.
• Respect the ceremonies you encounter; they are not performances, but living traditions.
• Above all, travel slowly, with an open heart and a sense of humor. Bali rewards the curious, the kind, and those willing to get a little lost.

Three days in Bali is a whisper, a taste, a fleeting poem. But like all good poems, it lingers—long after the flight home, long after the last grain of rice.

Selamat jalan, traveler. May the island’s magic travel with you.