w/ Tandjung Sari, Bali

Echoing Home is a new series born from a deeply personal question: what truly makes a space a home? As a designer, I’ve long explored this question – not just from an aesthetic point of view, but, more importantly, from a psychological one. I’m fascinated by the emotional undercurrents of spaces – the way they hold us, speak to us, and, sometimes, gently invite us to be ourselves.

Is it even possible to verbalize what makes us feel at home? In Echoing Home, I try. Echoing Home holds that unspoken feeling – a quiet echo of belonging that remains with us.

Through conversations with inspiring people who shape and care for meaningful places around the world, I explore the emotional architecture of home in this new series. Places where I feel at home myself, and in places that give others a strong sense of home. Just as importantly, I dive into the stories of craftsmanship – the materials, hands, and traditions that root a space in memory and soul.

What better place to begin than Tandjung Sari.

Tandjung Sari, or Cape of Flowers in Indonesian, is a serene hand-made resort in Sanur, Bali, where traditional Balinese design harmonizes with the natural surroundings. Built in the 1960s, with a commitment to cultural authenticity over commercialism, it helped define the early foundations of tropical modernism. The space’s open-air pavilions, local materials, and a deep sense of calm shaped what became known as the Bali style. Over the years, the hotel has welcomed notable figures such as David Bowie, Yoko Ono, and Adrian Zecha. Rooted in craftsmanship and genuine hospitality, Tandjung Sari remains a soulful, sustaining sanctuary.

I had the privilege of staying at this beautiful place last year. From the moment I arrived, I felt it: a quiet, instant sense of belonging. Curious to understand what gives this beachfront hotel its rare, soulful atmosphere, I had a conversation with General Manager Aviadi Purnomo.

Aviadi Purnomo is the son-in-law of the late founder of Tandjung Sari, Wija Wawo-Runtu. He took over as GM in 2004. He’s been carrying on the legacy, carefully blending tradition with today’s hospitality to keep the resort’s calm and cultural spirit alive. As we spoke, he shared a story that stayed with me:

‘’We have a guest who regularly wakes up early in the morning. She always sits on the same long chair on the beach, watching the sunrise and feeding the stray dogs. The staff noticed this, so our pool attendant began preparing her long chair with cushions before she arrived and made sure to place a 'reserved' sign on it.’’

That gesture – without words, without being asked – captures what it feels like for a place to become home. In our conversation, we begin to unravel how even a hotel can create that feeling – not through luxury, but through care, presence, and the quiet power of thoughtful detail.

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Tandjung Sari is often described as a place that feels deeply personal. What emotions does it evoke for those wo visit, and how has it maintained its intimate, home-like atmosphere over the decades?

Every corner of Tandjung Sari – whether in guest rooms or common areas – showcases its details and uniqueness. Each guest arrives with their own reasons and purposes, making their own stories during their stay.

I recall one guest sharing with me that his son chose to return to Tandjung Sari because he loved visiting the fishpond next to the lobby – it had become his ritual to feed the fish after breakfast.

We have a guest who regularly wakes up early in the morning. She always sits on the same long chair on the beach, watching the sunrise and feeding the stray dogs. The staff noticed this, so our pool attendant began preparing her long chair with cushions before she arrived and made sure to place a 'reserved' sign on it.

A loyal guest returned to stay with us and specifically asked about the dog statue that used to be in front of the bar. Apparently, we had moved the statue to a different location, away from the beachfront, because it had been eroded by excessive exposure to the ocean breeze.

Many more stories show how guests are attached to their interests and stories in Tandjung Sari.

It’s inevitable that we will evolve over time. However, our main principle is to preserve the ambiance and atmosphere of Tandjung Sari as a unified whole. We continuously maintain and improve not only the buildings, structures, furniture, artifacts, and garden, but also our people – to preserve the same soul and energy.

Tandjung Sari has a rich history, from its beginnings as a family home to becoming an icon of Balinese hospitality. The hotel’s tagline: ‘’My hotel is my living room and my guests are my friends’’. The heartwarming testimonials in the book Tandjung Sari: A Magical Door to Bali [the hotel’s official chronicle of its early years] serve a clear proof of this. What are some of the most meaningful stories that have shaped this space?

Wija Wawo-Runtu, the founder [of Tandjung Sari], was a warm and hospitable man, and his unique charm made it easy for him to make friends. In the Tandjung Sari book, there's a story about Chris Carlisle, a young Englishman who arrived in Bali in June 1967. As he strolled along Sanur Beach, passing Jimmy Pandy’s gallery [a cultural landmark at the time], he soon noticed an exquisitely carved door set into a sea wall of rough coral. He opened the door, and a man appeared, grinning. “Do come in,” said Wija. “Would you like some coffee? I’ve ordered some for myself.” They sat down, talked, and had coffee together. Within hours, they became friends – and within weeks, working partners. That same month, Australian artist Donald Friend moved from Sri Lanka to Bali. Together, the three of them began their project by building a house in Batujimbar, Sanur, and went on to found a company solemnly named Bali International Tourism Enterprises.

Adrian Zecha, the founder of Aman [the luxury hotel group], is also mentioned in the book. Tandjung Sari served as the social hub for the foreign community – you would go there because that’s where everyone else was. Guests often became friends and formed part of an extended network. It was like an early version of social media, but in an offline setting.

Projects often seemed to unfold from the heart of Tandjung Sari. Adrian Zecha also recalls one evening at the bar when Wija introduced him to Starr Black and Hans Hoefer, saying, “They are doing this book.” That book would later become the first guidebook to Bali – The Apa Guide to Bali.

In an earlier interview you did with From Where I stand [a cultural concept shop on Bali] you described Tandjung Sari so beautifully. You said: ‘’Tandjung Sari is a craft but on the scale of a hotel’’. Could you share what personally defines Tandjung Sari as a craft in your eyes?

We do our best to develop everything at Tandjung Sari with thought and passion. We create things to not only fulfill their function but also to ensure their presence stands nicely in harmony with the surrounding environment. Custom-made solutions often became our choice. For example, the original Tandjung Sari pathways were made of sand and ground coral. When we began upgrading the pavements, we could have easily used ready-made pavements from suppliers in Denpasar – but we chose not to. Instead, we created printed-leaf cement pavements with the help of a talented local craftsman. Likewise, the custom-made batik floor tiles used in our rooms were specially designed to make the place unique and offer guests a subtle introduction to Indonesian art and culture.

In that same interview with From Where I Stand, you mentioned feeling a strong temptation to completely transform the place just as you and your wife were about to take the reins in 2004. The more you thought about it, the more sure you were to stick to the original concept. Could this be precisely what sets Tandjung Sari apart from other spaces – the deep connection one feels to the craftsmanship and the human spirit?

In 2005, during our second year managing Tandjung Sari, a major storm hit Sanur and slightly lifted our bar. We had no choice but to move to a temporary bar and rebuild the existing one. We found ourselves at a crossroads – should we recreate the same bar style or build something entirely new?

We held many discussions and brainstorming sessions with family, friends, and even consulted one or two architects for ideas and design proposals. I remember one friend suggesting a completely new concept for the bar, believing it was time for Tandjung Sari to change and shift in a different direction to attract new markets.  

When the architects' draft design was ready, I sat in front of the old bar, trying to picture how the new one would look if built as drawn. After some reflection, I decided to stay true to our original concept, with a few updates to refresh the look and accommodate new bar equipment. We were fortunate to have the help of the late Henk Vos, a close friend of Pak [Mr.] Wija and a talented interior decorator.

To prevent disturbances, we covered the project with a temporary wall. During the renovation, I could sense everyone watching and ready to share their opinions once it was finished. When the renovation was complete, with a mix of hope and worry, we uncovered the temporary wall. In the end, the new bar looked harmonious and well-integrated with the other elements of the hotel.

This bar project became an important milestone in my learning journey for the future development of Tandjung Sari.

During my morning inspection walks, I would stop, feel, and quietly observe what the environment was telling me. I always told myself that if I could still hear the birds chirping and the squirrels jumping around and calling to each other, it meant we were still on the right track – preserving Tandjung Sari’s soul and energy, while respecting the environment, nature, and people.

From the hand-carved wooden details to traditional alang-alang [a type of tall, coarse grass] roofs and cement tiles with the imprint of leaves: Tandjung Sari is a showcase of Balinese craftsmanship. How does the use of local materials and techniques contribute to the sense of authenticity and belonging?

The word is respect. I always believe that wherever you stand, you should respect everything around you. This means protecting and nurturing the local potential, rather than destroying what was there before you. Believe it or not, you will be survived and protected by them.

Every object and design choice here seems intentional, whether it’s the antique furniture, art, or textiles. Are there any particular pieces that hold a personal story? Could you share any story about one of the local craftsmen?

The coral wall is the identity of Tandjung Sari. It was built by a local craftsman named Pak Wayan Puger. He was a builder from a village near Sanur, but I heard he didn’t get many projects there because people thought he wasn’t a good builder – they believed he couldn’t make walls straight. However, Pak Wija saw Pak Wayan Puger differently; to him, he was an artistic craftsman who created the coral walls at Tandjung Sari. As a result, he became Tandjung Sari’s long-term craftsman, responsible for building all the coral walls, the entrance gates’ candi bentar, the brick walls, the garden lights called lamp sang ah, and many other architectural ornaments throughout the hotel.

I may need to share a story. When we were about to finish renovating our South Garden Bungalows (Bungalows No. 25 and 30), I asked Pak Puger to make the entrance gate. He came back with a sketch complete with dimensions. At first, I thought the dimensions he proposed were a bit off – too grand and too tall. But he convinced me it was the right size, so I trusted him. When the gate was finished, it turned out perfectly sized and beautifully adorned with all the ornaments he had put on it.

From the open-air pavilions to the tropical gardens, nature is seamlessly woven into the architecture. How does this relationship between the indoors and outdoors enhance the feeling of home?

As I mentioned earlier, our principle is to respect what came before us. When the family arrived at the site where Tandjung Sari now stands, temples, trees, and other living creatures were already there. It’s only fair that those who come later respect those who came earlier.

I still remember an old photo of the restaurant showing a coconut tree trunk right in the middle. The coconut trees were there before us, and we just left them to live until they had to die.

The layout of our bar and restaurant isn’t perfectly straight – Pak Wija designed and built it around the existing trees.

To make sure I understand you correctly: Are you saying that the connection between indoor and outdoor spaces enhances the feeling of ‘home’ by designing around nature rather than over it, creating organic, lived-in spaces that foster a sense of belonging and peace – just like a true home should?

Exactly. Our understanding of home goes beyond the physical structure; it’s about the unity between the house and its surroundings.

Despite the modern developments in Bali, Tandjung Sari has remained a sanctuary of slowness and presence. How does the design and daily rhythm of this place encourage guests to slow down and connect with themselves?

Maybe the right word isn't slowness, but rather calmness, tranquility, and presence. One of my favorite moments at Tandjung Sari is sitting in the Lobby and looking toward the road at the far end. You’ll see cars, motorbikes, and people passing by, but you don’t hear the noise. Instead, you feel and enjoy the quiet and peaceful atmosphere, while still witnessing the movement of life in the distance.

It’s a moment that shows us life is a choice – you can take part in the fast-paced rhythm of daily life, or you can choose to live quietly and peacefully. From the very beginning, Tandjung Sari was created to offer that sense of calm and peace to everyone who enters – from the moment they step into the Lobby, passing the driveway lined with coconut trees, through the lush indigenous tropical garden surrounding the bungalows, and finally arrive at the calmness of the beach.

More than just a physical space, a home is shaped by the people within it. How do the staff, the returning guests and even the local community contribute to the warmth and soul of Tandjung Sari?

Developing the Tandjung Sari property is one thing, but what matters most is how we develop the people – the soul of the property. For us, development is a process. In every single development we undertake at Tandjung Sari, we always involve the staff. We learn from one another – how to interact, communicate, and show respect – from the design stage all the way through to completion.

We even invite our guests to share their thoughts during room renovations, especially those who have stayed in that particular room before. Everything you see at Tandjung Sari is the result of collective effort and collaboration, and I believe that sense of togetherness is something everyone can feel who comes and spends time in Tandjung Sari.

During the first year I was managing Tandjung Sari, I was trying to send messages to everyone about the company’s yearly targets and achievements. After some time, I noticed one staff member who we thought was performing well as a waitress. Referring to what I had learned in management school, we should give her appreciation, such as a promotion. I called her to my office and gave her a promotional letter to become a restaurant captain.

Surprisingly, she just said thank you for the appreciation and refused to receive the promotional letter. But she convinced me that she would still do her best as a waitress. I tried to understand… why didn’t she accept it?

Then I came to understand more about local Balinese wisdom, which believes that the most important thing in life is to keep good relationships with their God, family, and the community. Everything else comes after.

From then on, I adjusted myself in managing Tandjung Sari by focusing more on how to make people happy – by giving them space with their God, family, and community – with the understanding that they would give their best performance when they are at work. I found the outcome exceptionally effective, and that year, we achieved more than the yearly target we had budgeted.

The lesson learned is that if we can make the staff happy by giving them space to maintain good relationships with God, their family, and the community, they will work and give their best performance.

If you could capture the feeling of Tandjung Sari – the essence of home here – in just one sentence or image, what would it be?

The lobby pavilion.

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I thank Aviadi Purnomo for his openness and willingness to share his personal stories and memories from over the years he's been with Tandjung Sari with me – it really means a lot.

With love & warmth,

Miek

Photos: all photos and texts are the property of STUDIO MIQUE. If you'd like to share or reference any of the content, please reach out for permission or tag @STUDIOMIQUE directly. Thank you.