In South Sanur, there’s a small detail that can make visitors do a double-take: some properties follow a regular street-number pattern, while others show an extra marking, an “XX” appended to the number. It looks deliberate, and if you notice it more than once, it starts to feel like a code.
Back in 2007, curiosity got the better of a local freelance writer. The question seemed simple: why do some houses carry “XX” in their numbering, and what does it mean? Was it an old administrative system? A special category of property? Or something more symbolic?
A neighbourhood that wouldn’t explain itself
The writer describes asking around the area, casually, as you would when something odd catches your eye. The response was consistent: polite smiles, vague answers, and a clear reluctance to discuss it. That reaction only made the “XX” feel more significant.
So the writer decided to do what most people wouldn’t: walk into one of the “XX” properties and ask directly.
What the “XX” house looked like
From the street, the place didn’t look like an ordinary family home. It sat right on a main lane and was large enough to park roughly 10–15 cars inside. The garden was neat and manicured, more like a small hotel than a private residence. Inside, there were bungalow-style rooms and a building at the front that resembled a reception area.
In other words, it looked like accommodation, yet it wasn’t clearly advertised as such.
The awkward conversation that revealed the truth
A caretaker (the writer calls him a watchman) greeted him warmly at first, speaking in a strong Balinese dialect. But as soon as the writer explained he was asking about the “XX” numbering, the caretaker’s mood shifted.
He appeared nervous and quickly tried to reassure the visitor:
- “This isn’t a brothel.”
- “There are no girls here.”
- “We only rent rooms like an inn.”
- “Please don’t put this in the newspaper.”
The caretaker’s reaction tells you what the “XX” numbers were associated with in local gossip: properties that were suspected of being ‘localised’ (a euphemism for sex work) or operating in a grey zone.
The writer calmed the situation and clarified he wasn’t the police or security. As the tension eased, the caretaker became more open, and the writer concluded that the property functioned as informal accommodation, bungalows rented out quietly, while being sensitive to how outsiders might interpret it.
So what did “XX” actually mean?
The original blog doesn’t provide an official government explanation, and it’s important not to overstate what can’t be proven. But the investigation suggests a practical, street-level meaning:
- “XX” markings were used on certain properties as an informal identifier, distinct from standard residential numbering.
- Locals treated it as a sensitive label, likely because those properties were linked (fairly or unfairly) with activities people didn’t want publicised.
- At least one “XX” property the writer visited operated like a quiet guesthouse/room rental, and the caretaker was anxious about being portrayed as something else.
Why this mattered enough to write about
In a place like Sanur, where tourism, local life, and informal businesses overlap, small signals matter. A number on a gate can act like a shorthand for what a property is, what it used to be, or what people believe it to be.
The “mystery” wasn’t mystical at all. It was social: a numbering quirk that carried a reputation. And the strongest clue wasn’t the letters themselves, it was how quickly people smiled and changed the subject when asked.
A final note on interpretation
This story reflects one person’s observations and a single visit in 2007. House numbering practices can change, and “XX” could have had multiple uses over time (administrative, informal, or simply local convention). If you’re researching this today, the best next step would be to compare:
- official address records (banjar/desa administration)
- How the same street numbers appear in delivery apps/maps
- whether “XX” properties are registered as accommodation
Even so, the blog captures something very real about Sanur: the way local knowledge travels quietly, and how a small detail, two letters on a gate, can carry a whole story.
