An unmistakable staple of everyday life in Indonesia is the warung. If you’ve spent enough time here, you’ve surely come across one.
These small, family-owned businesses sell everything from food to groceries and everyday essentials. Warungs are often far cheaper and more convenient than supermarkets, thanks to their accessibility and reasonable pricing–especially in lower-income neighbourhoods. You’ll spot them everywhere, from roadside stalls to narrow alleyways, always within easy reach of the community.
Near my home in Denpasar, I noticed a newly opened warung right across the street. I was pretty sure it hadn’t been there when I first moved in. A quick look through my fridge told me I wasn’t missing much, but I did need to restock a few essentials. And with it only ten steps away, I figured—why not see what they had in store?
I peeked into the tiny store, finding it seemingly empty. As I scanned the shelves, debating what to buy, I called out for the clerk. Expecting someone to emerge from the back, I was caught off guard when a voice—much closer than anticipated—called out in response. Startled, I found Nana who had been sitting behind the counter all along, completely hidden from view!
Nana was born in Banyuwangi, but her family moved to Bali when she was still a little girl. Many years later, she’s built a life of her own here, starting a family on the island. When I asked if she ever missed Banyuwangi, she shrugged with a smile. “I go back when I can, usually during Lebaran. But I like it here in Bali—the work and the money are here.” She went on to tell me that she lives as well as sleeps in the back of the shop every day and rarely goes out since there’d be no one to watch over the warung. Now that’s dedication!
As we chatted, I asked more about the warung, and it turned out my guess was right—it had only been open for about five months, around the same time I moved to the area. Nana doesn’t own it; her boss does, and this is actually their second branch. The first one was in Nusa Dua, where she used to live, but when they decided to expand to Denpasar, she relocated as she was the one assigned to run the new location.
“There were more customers in Nusa Dua than here, you know,” she told me. “It’s busier, so more people would pass by and stumble upon our shop.” That surprised me—I would’ve expected Denpasar, with its constant flow of people, would bring in more foot traffic. Sensing my surprise, she explained, “Well, Nusa Dua has more tourists since it’s full of hotels. So their guests tend to wander around the area more.”
Nana eventually asked if I’d only recently moved in since she’d never seen me before. I admitted that I mostly stayed in or left the area without walking around much. Meanwhile, customers came and went, including a little girl who stopped by for her favourite snacks. As she paid, Nana teased and joked with her. Soon, they were talking about a recent work injury at the construction site of the new complex down the street, mentioning names I didn’t recognise.
After the girl left, I commented on how well she seemed to know everyone. She smiled and said, “Of course! I pretty much know everybody here. When people come to buy things, they chat with me too—I get to know them that way.”
After paying for my groceries, I said my goodbyes, assuring her that I’d be back soon. As I walked away, I couldn’t help but feel warmed by the way she interacted with her customers who are also her neighbours—how she remembered them, their stories, and even the little details of their lives. It reminded me of a phrase I’d heard somewhere before… “A good neighbour is a found treasure.”