# 6 Is Bali Still Beautiful?

First impressions, second thoughts, takeaways, and concrete advice.

I hope you all started the new year the way you intended or better. With plenty of rest or fresh energy. There’s no one right way to reset and you may not have wanted to reset at all. A calendar can be helpful in initiating a personal transformation, but shouldn’t dictate when you grow. I describe my own new year’s resolution in my previous newsletter.

I’m still in Bali. Three days from now, my two-month visa will expire, so I’ve been trying to wrap up my thoughts on this island. As one of the most visited destinations in the world, Bali made me reflect on the consequences of mass tourism and humanity’s endless desire to see what all the fuss is about.

Why do so many people come to Bali? Why did I? Is Bali still beautiful?

Why Bali?

The Western wanderlust for Bali has its roots in colonialism. Europeans (largely but not exclusively the Dutch) came to the so-called exotic East ages ago to escape their own cold societies and profit from the local trades. They stole natural resources and exploited the locals.

Nowadays, the majority of Westerners are Australians. They come to Bali to experience a level of luxury they cannot afford at home, enjoy beaches and mountain activities, and get a (first) taste of foreignness. Bali is a Westernized gateway into Asia.

I was drawn to Bali by a confluence of reasons. My husband longed for a warm destination. I was rewriting a novel set in Java, Indonesia, just next door. The flights from Japan happened to be cheap in November. A friend of a friend offered to sublet her place to us. We had no plans yet for the December holidays. And, yes, I wanted to know what all the fuss was about.

First Impressions

1. Traffic

   Bali, the so-called island of the gods, doesn’t make a good first impression. As soon as you leave the airport, you’re stuck in traffic, a bumper-to-bumper jam or slow-moving sprawl. The airport trip is often the least attractive part of a journey, but Bali appeared particularly clogged and chaotic, even at 7 AM. The narrow roads cannot handle this high number of vehicles. There’s NO public transport system for tourists and few buses for locals. Everyone gets around on a scooter, in a taxi, or hires a private driver. It’s essential to bring patience with you and replenish your stock of it each time before you hit the road.

   • Added note: Our driver told me the traffic around Christmas and NYE was so bad that travelers abandoned their taxis to walk to the airport carrying their luggage for miles.

2. Walking is a challenge

   I like walking to restaurants or temples, which is problematic in Bali. There are plenty of mountain hikes and waterfall tracks for the adventurous souls who rise with the sun, yet for people like me, who just want to stroll around the neighborhood when the afternoon cools, there aren’t enough options. In Seminyak, I felt in danger of being run over during my seven-minute walk to the beach. Roads without sidewalks snake along tall walls of private villas. On the Bukit Peninsula near Bingin Beach, it wasn’t much better. When sidewalks do exist, such as in Ubud, they often appear as though attacked with sledge hammers. In the dark after a downpour, they become an obstacle course, especially when navigating them on sandals.

3. Trash

   Much has been written about the trash problem in Bali. To see what we’re dealing with here, you can watch one of the horror movies on the Instagram page of a traveller who’s trying to improve the situation. In short: there’s a lot of plastic. And there’s a lot of debris from the daily offerings to the gods in the millions of Hindu shrines on the island—every house has at least one shrine. The offerings are beautiful in the early morning. The hand-sized baskets woven from palm leaves are filled with colorful flowers and fruits, rice, cookies, cigarettes, and incense. Invigorating scents lift you wherever you go. But the food attracts monkeys and insects. The baskets, often placed on the pavement, get run over by scooters and trampled by tourist feet, then wash down the hills to end up on the beach, where you step through the debris.

4. Construction, construction, construction

   Overdeveloped as Bali is, new accommodations are rising everywhere. Foreign tourist numbers tripled in a decade, from 2 million in 2008 to 6 million in 2018. I suspect Eat, Pray, Love has something to do with it. Elizabeth Gilbert’s bestselling memoir came out in 2006. The blockbuster movie with the same title followed in 2010. Before the pandemic, they expected 8 million visitors to come to Bali, and now in 2023, the numbers are almost back to pre-pandemic heights. The government is keen on growth and locals invest their profits into welcoming even more foreigners. For us it meant plenty of availability, even during the Christmas season, but finding housing away from noise and dust was nearly impossible. (Our sublet option fell through last minute because of construction next door.)

   Added Note: The war in Ukraine has brought many Russian investors to Bali and locals are paying the price. Please read this article on a large development in Ubud that threatens the family made famous in Eat, Pray, Love.

5. Crowds and inauthenticity

   People who visit attractive places and spread the word—people such as travel writers—risk turning said places into attractions that become so unpleasantly popular that they loose their original appeal. After a few disappointing excursions to satisfy my curiosity, we stopped making day trips in Bali. Daniel and I were here during the low (rainy) season and already felt that the presence of other (often inconsiderate) tourists reduced our ability to enjoy ourselves. Plus the attractions themselves had changed. Villages and art galeries that might have been authentic once now appear as souvenir malls. Dance performances (such as in Uluwatu temple) that were once part of religious ceremonies are now staged for paying customers only. Some sights were not worth visiting at all. They were only put on the google map to attract tourists who don’t mind spending a few dollars on seeing a waterfall or eating an overpriced ice cream. Such “sights” end up on unreliable blogs as must-see-places, and get copied onto more lists, until nobody knows anymore what’s really worthwhile.

A mask floated in our pool one day as an ominous sign. Is Bali dead?

Second Thoughts

Is Bali dead? For whoever was on the island decades ago, the answer is yes. I talked to locals and expats who compared the current Bali to the idyll it once was and watched them shake their heads in sadness or disgust. But I don’t have this earlier reference, this image of paradise lost. I only see what I encounter and am mostly enamored with the island, despite the downsides mentioned above.

1. Village Life: Not everything has changed

   In Love and Death in Bali, the 1937 novel by the Austrian author Vicky Braun, I came across several passages that seem to describe the place I live in now. For example:
   

   “In the village street, where the walls of the compounds formed a long line, broken only by the high gateways, life was by now in full swing. The rays of the sun in the smoking morning air lay like silver beams athwart the tops of the palms and the dense fruit trees. A thousand birds sang at once. […] Red hibiscus flowers bloomed round the house altar behind every wall. Women went by with baskets and mats on their heads, one behind the other, preceded by their lengthened shadows.”
   

   In Penestanan in 2023, grandparents, aunties, uncles, cousins, and various distant relatives still live together on family compounds. When you walk through such a compound (please do so on invitation only!), you will see chicken coops, women chopping vegetables, men carving various things from wood, and children helping their older relatives with house-related tasks. Villagers still sell home-made arrack (distilled palm wine) by the side of the road, serve vegetables cooked yellow with kunjit, climb up the temple steps in their finest gear, and bathe semi-nude in the fresh spring river. Life seems unhurried and unstaged.

2. Rich Culture

   It’s naive to expect authenticity when visiting a place of mass tourism. Foreign visitors transform destinations by their mere presence. And authenticity may not look like what you imagine.
   

   “No one is as anxious about authenticity as a white tourist who rightly suspects that the world has been watered down for their benefit. But authenticity is a moving target; it has a talent for confounding the search. Perhaps the solution then is to understand and embrace the multiple hybrid shapes and forms authenticities can take within the limitations of the tourism project.”  Shahnaz Habib writes in Airplane Mode: An Irreverent History of Travel (Catapult, December 2023)—a book I recommend.
   

   Bali’s rich culture is still present everywhere. Accommodations and restaurants are decorated in style with an artistic sensitivity to detail. When you’re brave enough to walk the streets, you will witness many rituals and processions not performed for tourists. An open-bed truck may pass you by filled with either white-bloused young women or men in checkered sarongs on their way to the temple. Your hostess will make offerings at the home shrines several times a week; not to charm you as a tourist, but to protect her house from evil spirits and thank the gods for having blessed her family. Daniel and I walked home a few times in the dark after dinner on a particularly lush path and heard gamelan music coming from the trees. “No one’s going to believe this,” we’d say to each other in amazement—it was that magical.

3. Natural Beauty

   The coral reefs below the waters off the coast of Amed are spectacular. They’re not the best in the world and they’re seriously damaged by climate change, fishing boats, and tourism, but they’re still spectacular. (And the turtles are mind changing.) On several days, I admired pods of dolphins play or feed from our little private porch. There are waves for every type of surfer in the South and West. I only watched, since I never learned the trick, and enjoyed seeing the water roll in majestically with these tiny balancing daredevils on top. The atmosphere on the sand is mostly cool and relaxed, at least where I was (Batu Belig, Seminyak, Bingin, Padang Padang, Saba). Not as party and booze driven as I’d feared. When you get off the main roads, the jungle is tropical and wild. From urban areas such as Ubud, you can easily set off on narrow paths to walk through the rice paddies. There are magnificent waringin trees and star jasmines smelling so sweet they make you dizzy. Nature will pause you in awe everyday.

4. Kindness

   The Balinese people may be the island’s main attraction. Their kindness has been mentioned so often that it sounds like a cliche. But I truly found their hospitality exceptional. The Balinese have an openness that encourages conversations. They’re also curious about who you are and why you’ve come to visit their island. Most have a strong sense of humor. Once while I was shopping at a small local market in Amed, the chef from our favorite restaurant spotted me, tapped me on the back and then ducked out of sight. When I turned around confused, she burst out laughing. Next, she offered me a scooter ride home, knowing I’d come on foot on the less than desirable road. She balanced a huge barracuda between her legs while I hugged her back. It was a memorable ride.

5. Convenience and safety

   Whatever Bali may have lost in authenticity, it has gained in convenience. The locals know their clientele and how to cater to them: A private villa in Penestanan comes with a blender and an espresso maker. And the healthfood store for frozen blueberries and spirulina is just around the corner. Most people I interacted with spoke English well, which meant they were trilingual (also speaking Indonesian and Balinese). The comfort level is high: clean and airconditioned interiors, quality vegan restaurants (such as Plant and Alchemy), decent Wi-Fi, and plenty of pharmacies. Mosquitos are a nuisance, yet not as big of a problem as they can be elsewhere in Asia, and malaria is nearly non-existent. The evening temperatures are not as hot as you’d might expect from an island near the equator. Getting around is easy and affordable (if you’ve stacked up on patience). You can use Gojek as you do Uber, negotiate with local taxis, or ask your host to arrange a ride. When using common sense and a normal level of caution, Bali is a safe destination.

A lovely walk in the neighborhood and downtown Ubud

End Verdict aka Takeaway

There are two Balis. A crowded, overdeveloped tourist trap and its kind twin, a welcoming island of natural beauty. There is the rose-colored Bali you dreamed of and the less-than-perfect Bali you encounter. What Bali you experience will depend greatly on what you pay attention to once you arrive.

Traveling is learning the art of seeing parallel worlds. There is no either/or, no hell and no paradise. There is overdevelopment and there are opportunities for delight. You can focus on the trash and see it everywhere. You can call Ubud a carpark of villas and wouldn’t be wrong. But you can also say: Wow! I’ve never seen such vibrant orchids before! And isn’t it amazing I get to have a delicious meal with a view of a gorge while hearing the frogs sing?

“The world we experience — which is the only one we can know — is affected by the kind of attention we pay to it,” writes Iain McGilchrist in The Matter With Things: Our Brains, Our Delusions and the Unmaking of the World.

I’m not saying we should lie to ourselves and cheer joyfully about disappointing experiences. Such behavior could be considered toxic positivity. I’m saying that we don’t have to focus on the dark sides and blind ourselves to what’s good. We can acknowledge the existence of parallel worlds and choose to pay attention to what makes us happy.

When we travel in search of enchantment, we will find it wherever we go.

Ever wondered why a rock face is called a rock face?

Concrete Tips for Your Trip to Bali

1. Choose your accommodations carefully. Use Google street view to see the road your hotel may be on. Read recent reviews to find out about possible noise pollution. Ask your host about construction (plans) in the area. Not wanting to spoil their good ratings or get into trouble later, they’re often honest upfront.

2. Book accommodations as close to where you actually want to spend your days. Transportation is affordable and available yet never pleasant. (Gojek) Scooter rides may sound like fun, but helmets aren’t always up to par, drivers aren’t always sober, and the roads are potholed and curved. In other words: If you’re coming for the beach, spend a little extra money to stay as close to the beach as possible.

3. When going to Ubud: Don’t stay in Ubud, unless you want to visit the Ubud sites (such as the souvenir market, the temple, the hamburger restaurants.) Stay in Penestanan instead. Our favorite area is anywhere near the Yellow Flower Cafe where no cars and scooters are allowed, and where you can feel you’re still living in nature.

4. When going to Amed: Don’t stay in Amed, unless you want to have a wide choice in restaurants and snorkel in Jemeluk Bay. Stay in the areas further South, such as Lipah Beach and Selang Beach, with perfect snorkeling just off the shore and the Japanese shipwreck within easy reach. When we were there in the late fall of 2023, Amed village itself was a huge mess because they were widening the road or putting in sidewalks.

5. Seek out the lesser known sights, the secondary temples and villages. They’re often as beautiful as the others, just less crowded. Don’t book everything online from a distance. Ask local drivers, guides, and hosts about your options since you arrive; they know their island and offer better deals.

6. Don’t buy Luwak coffee. This coffee is produced from beans that have first been digested by civets that are kept in cruel conditions. By skipping this coffee, you’re not missing out on any authentic experience: The Balinese don’t drink it. It’s just for tourists.

7. Get your rabies vaccine before you travel. Stray dogs cannot be avoided. As almost anywhere in the world.

Author News

On the first day of the new year, DIAGRAM published three of my very short memoirs. They’re about murder as a protective force, the significant sound of lines slapping against masts, and childhood shame.

Writing memoir is giving your self-reflections a narrative structure that reveals more than it hides. (This is me musing and being amused in Nara, Japan.)

Desk Journeys Aka Reading Recommendations

In the bestselling (and excellent) memoir Wild, Cheryl Strayed writes about a book that kept her motivated on her rite-of-passage hike on the Pacific Crest Trail: The Ten Thousand Things by Maria Dermoût. First published in the Netherlands in 1955, Dermoût’s novel saw a new translation by Hans Koning in 2002 and was published by New York Review of Books.

The book tells the story of a young woman who returns with her baby son from Holland to Indonesia, to the house in which she grew up and what has remained a world of shimmering strangeness, where time does not follow a line and ghosts come and go. (It sounds eerily like the novel I’m rewriting this month...) Cheryl Strayed wrote: “Each of Dermoût’s sentences came at me like a soft knowing dagger, depicting a far-off land that felt to me like the blood of all the places I used to love.”

Time to Say Goodbye

Who’s been to Sri Lanka? Not me, so I’m eager to explore: Buddhist temples, fish curries, colonial architecture in hilltop towns, whales, elephants, cerulean waters, tea plantations, and did I already mention whales?

All my best,

Claire

P.S. What’s a place you love that has a (dark) twin?