More Than Flowers: Learning the Art of Canang Sari in Bali

By Bekah | November 6, 2026 | Wellness | Indonesia

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Some travel experiences stay with you longer than others, because of the people who invite you into a small piece of their everyday lives.

Our experience learning to make canang sari in Bali was one of those.

We were welcomed into a family’s home, where a grandmother and her daughter (also a mother to a 9 year old) offered lessons in the traditional Balinese art of making daily offerings. What made the experience particularly special to me was that it was two generations of women, sharing something that has been woven into their daily lives and culture for generations. And there we were, another mother and daughter, lucky enough to be invited into it.

Before we began, they dressed us in sarongs, called a Kamen, and special blouses, called Kebaya, and finished it off with a sash called a Selendang, the appropriate attire for entering a sacred space. We were then welcomed into a dedicated area the family had created specifically for sharing these cultural experiences.

We sat together on the floor, surrounded by young coconut leaves, flowers, strips of dried bamboo, and other materials needed to create our offerings.

And then the lessons began.

A little bamboo, a lot of laughter

We learned to work with young coconut leaves, folding and shaping them into the small baskets called Cepers that would hold our offerings. There were two different designs we would make: a simple square shape and a more intricate traditional flower shaped design. The square ones were actually much more difficult to create.

The strips of bamboo were used almost like needles, stitching the leaves together and securing each corner. This sounds much easier than it actually was!

We all spent a good portion of the lesson giggling at our inability to get the bamboo through the leaves. Every time we thought we had it figured out, something would come undone. The grandmother patiently stepped in again and again, sharpening our little bamboo pieces and helping us work them through the leaves.

She didn’t speak English, but it hardly mattered. Her daughter helped translate when needed, and the rest of the communication happened through smiles, laughter, gestures, and working together.

It’s something we’ve experienced in other parts of the world, too. You don’t really need a shared language to connect with someone. Sometimes doing something with your hands, sharing a laugh, and being open to learning is more than enough.

Once our baskets were assembled, we began arranging the flowers. Each color and placement has meaning, representing different aspects of Balinese Hindu belief. We followed the patterns our teachers showed us, carefully placing orange, pink, white, blue, and purple flowers in their designated section before finishing with fragrant pandan leaves.

But there was one element they kept emphasizing.

The most important part

In the center of the offering, we placed something called porosan. These small, prepared dried leaf packets had already been made for us, so we didn’t get to create them ourselves. They contain traditional ingredients, including betel leaf, areca nut, and slaked lime. They carry important spiritual symbolism and are considered an essential part of the offering.

It was a good reminder that these offerings aren’t simply beautiful arrangements of flowers and leaves. Every component has a purpose, and the meaning behind the offering is just as important as the offering itself.

A daily act of devotion

As we’ve traveled throughout Bali, we’ve become increasingly aware of just how much these little offerings are part of everyday life.

They’re everywhere.

We’ve seen them outside homes, in front of shops, at temples, along sidewalks, beside doorways, and at family shrines. Even the hotels and homes we’ve stayed in have their own family or building shrines, where offerings are regularly placed.

We’ve watched people, often women, carefully arranging and placing offerings in the morning. There are also evening offerings, often accompanied by a burning stick of incense.

It’s easy to walk around Bali and see these little baskets as colorful decorations. But once you understand what goes into them, you start seeing them differently.

Families spend hours preparing these offerings and placing them throughout their homes and around their properties. While making them is often part of the women’s daily responsibilities, men participate in the practice, too.

And suddenly, all those little baskets scattered across the ground take on a whole different meaning.

We’ve accidentally stepped on a few during our travels, something we always feel terrible about. They’re sometimes tucked into corners or placed right where you’re walking, and it’s surprisingly easy to miss them. 

But now we have a much greater appreciation for the time, care, and devotion that went into making each one.

Completing the offering

After we finished making our canang, we had the opportunity to participate in the ceremony of placing them at the family’s shrine.

We carefully placed our offerings, then used a flower to sprinkle holy water over them and ourselves. We placed flowers behind our ears, lit the incense, and offered a blessing. We had watched Balinese people perform these rituals countless times throughout our travels, but participating ourselves gave us a different perspective.

What had previously been something we observed from the outside became something we could begin to understand through experience. There was a sense of intention and care in every step. It wasn’t rushed. It wasn’t about creating something perfect. It was about taking the time to honor something meaningful.

More than a cultural lesson

I think one of my favorite parts of this experience was watching my daughter learn alongside me.

We weren’t just checking off another activity or visiting another beautiful place. We were sitting on the floor of someone’s home, learning from a grandmother and her daughter about something they do as part of their everyday lives.

There was no performance, no elaborate production. Just people sharing something that matters to them.

As parents, one of the things we hope to give our daughter through travel is the opportunity to see the world beyond her own experiences. To be curious about how other people live, to appreciate traditions that may be different from our own, and to approach those differences with respect rather than judgment.

And sometimes those lessons happen in the most unexpected ways.

In this case, it happened with a few coconut leaves, some flowers, tiny pieces of bamboo, a very patient grandmother, and a whole lot of laughter.

We’ll probably forget some of the specific steps of making a canang sari. But I hope my daughter remembers sitting on that floor, learning from those women, and realizing that connection doesn’t always require words.

Sometimes the best way to understand a place is to slow down, sit with its people, and let them show you a little piece of their world.

Many hotels and guest houses offer this experience, but we really enjoyed being in a family home. We found this one on Airbnb Experiences. Use my sponsored link to get $25 USD off your first booking.