I arrived in Gerupuk almost by chance. Someone in Canggu had enthusiastically mentioned it to me, saying it was perfect for surfers like me: not too beginner and not too daring. I took a ferry to Lombok not expecting much, eager to change the pace and leave behind the friendly chaos of Bali. From the very first moment, I knew I was in another world. The village was small, quiet, surrounded by green hills and an immense bay that reflected the sky like a mirror. There were no noisy bars, no trendy shops. Just motorbikes, chickens, children greeting with huge smiles, and a wooden dock that seemed to float over the calm. My first surf day was at six in the morning. I was awakened by the sound of a boat engine. Outside, the sky was still dark blue, and the air had that damp chill that you only feel by the sea. I walked to the dock with my board under my arm, got on the boat with three other surfers, and we slowly began to move away from the coast. The sea was completely flat, with no wind. The boat cut through the water as if there were no resistance. We all sat in silence, looking towards the horizon. It was a kind of collective meditation before the first take off. We chose to surf at Inside Gerupuk. The wave was perfect for what I needed: long, gentle, kind. I paddled leisurely, feeling the energy of the water beneath me, and when the right wave came, I simply let myself go. It was a simple wave, no barrel, no radical maneuvers. But it was mine. And for a few seconds, it was everything. After surfing, we returned to the dock. The sun was already high, and the village had begun to move. I walked barefoot to a small warung by the sea, where a lady served me a strong coffee and a banana pancake that tasted better than any hotel breakfast. I sat there, looking at the bay, watching the boats come and go, listening to the locals' conversations as if they were part of the soundscape.   I spent several days in Gerupuk. All similar and all different. Surfing in the morning, resting in the afternoon, walking along dirt paths, having a beer at sunset watching the sky turn orange. I met people who had come for a few days and had been living there for years. And I understood why. Gerupuk is not a place to go looking for the wave of your life. It is a place to find something harder: peace, rhythm, and a gentle connection with the sea. There is no rush, no competition. Just you, your board, and the opportunity to surf calmly, surrounded by nature and sincere smiles. When I left, I did so without haste. As if the place itself had taught me to move slower. I don’t know if I will return soon. But a part of me definitely stayed there.