Bali Time: Learning To Let Go Of The Clock

If you’ve spent any time in Bali, you’ve probably heard the phrase “Bali Time.” It’s a concept, a mindset, and a lived reality—one that you either surrender to or spend your days fighting against in frustration. At its core, Bali Time has two defining traits:

(1) You are at least 10 minutes late to everything, and no one cares.

(2) You lose all sense of time—days blur, weeks slip by, and suddenly, it’s been six months.

For someone like me—a natural planner, schedule keeper, and borderline control freak—Bali Time was not an easy pill to swallow. I came to the island with the same deeply ingrained habits I had everywhere else: showing up early, checking my watch, and feeling my pulse spike if I sensed I was even slightly off-schedule. But Bali has a way of unlearning you.

The Art of Being Late

The first thing I noticed was how casually late everyone was. Plans? Flexible. Meet-ups? Estimated. Traffic? An unpredictable adventure. It’s not that people don’t respect your time—it’s just that time isn’t the master here. There’s no frantic rushing, no aggressive clock-watching, no passive-aggressive texts about being 5 minutes behind. If someone tells you they’ll be there at 3:00, they might mean 3:15… or 3:45. And somehow, that’s okay.

At first, I resisted. I tried to beat Bali Time, showing up early, wondering why I was the only one sitting alone at a café, sweating through my linen shirt. But slowly, I let go. I started allowing myself the grace to arrive when I arrive—to not panic if I was running late, to trust that everything would flow as it needed to.

And you know what? It always did.

The Bali Time Vortex: What do you mean it's December?

The other thing about Bali Time is that you stop keeping track of time at all. Days melt into each other.

The island seems to run on an entirely different frequency, one that isn’t dictated by Mondays and Fridays but rather by moments. You move in sync with sunsets, surf conditions, and spontaneous plans that change by the hour. You don’t feel like you’re wasting time, but you also don’t feel controlled by it.

And in that freedom, something incredible happens: you become present.

The Biggest Lesson

At some point, it hit me: I had spent so much of my life stressing over time. Rushing to make flights with hours to spare, spiraling over being five minutes late to a dinner reservation, obsessively planning every moment of my day as if the world would collapse if I deviated.

Bali taught me that it’s never that serious.

The restaurant will still be there. Your friend is also probably running late. The world won’t end if you miss a sunset, and guess what? There’s another one tomorrow. The plans will shift, and life will keep moving. The pressure we put on ourselves to constantly be on time, in control, perfectly scheduled? It’s exhausting. And for what?

Somewhere between a late afternoon nap and a last-minute trip to the Gilli Islands, I learned to trust the flow. To let things unfold as they do. To understand that life isn’t meant to be micromanaged down to the minute—it’s meant to be lived.

Final Thoughts

Okay, listen—I’m still me. I still set alarms, aim to respect the time of others, and get to the airport early just in case. But I also don’t spiral anymore when plans shift or when I realize I’m running late. I don’t let time own me the way it used to. And that, to me, is the magic of Bali Time.

So if you find yourself here, resisting the looseness of it all—just breathe. Order another coffee. Watch the waves. The moment will happen when it’s meant to. And I promise, it’s always right on time.