Bali is not "ruined". It's not the same as it was a decade ago, and nor should it be.
Notes from three years in, inspired by Nyepi
After almost three years living here, I finally experienced Nyepi in Bali. It’s an incredible thing to witness.
The build up is special too. Every village completes Melasti, a procession to their nearest body of water. And the night before thrums with Ogoh Ogoh parades: energetic festivals of terrifying huge twirling puppets.
Then on the day itself, utter silence. No lights. No one allowed outside. Tourists confined to their hotels. The airport closes for 24 hours.
I feel lucky to be living somewhere where the culture is so alive and powerful. This time of year crystallizes the moments of magic I feel day to day.
Yet more than ever I’ve heard the refrain: Bali is ruined.
What do we mean when we say somewhere is “ruined”?
When I first planned a trip to Indonesia, 8 years ago, we almost skipped Bali because I’d heard this so much. But an earthquake in Lombok led to a last-minute visit.
We started in Medewi and then a silent retreat on the slopes of Batu Karu. From there we went to Ubud, where yes, I had smoothie bowls. Then before flying to Timor, we spent 24 hours in Seminyak.
Seminyak’s wall to wall shops, beach beanbags and dresses matching neon cocktails shocked me. But I still loved Bali immediately. I understood I had experienced different sides to it.
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Some of the old hands I meet who were first here decades ago say it was already too late back then.
I have more time for them compared to the digital nomads and content creators. They have come to consume exactly what, once there is too much of it, leads them to declare the place ruined. It’s all about Thailand now, they will say, or for surfers, the Phillipines.
But what place in the world is exactly as it was?
And when we say it’s ruined, what do we mean? Ruined for who?
My sympathy is with the Balinese, who have seen rapid change largely outside of their control. But they are not the voices in media using overtourism as the latest headline, or posting TikToks with millions of views declaring Bali is done.
We all have an ideal image that suits us, based perhaps on a previous visit, or an aspired trip aesthetic, that we demand a place complies with.
Theres a type of comment that always gets my hackles up. How before was perfect, the locals wandered around topless, it was so cheap, so authentic.
What this is actually describing is a place that fits a certain colonial fantasy of paradise — untouched, affordable, available.
But I’d suggest that the Balinese of today would rather be thought of as people living and working in the modern world as best they can, not as the picturesque inhabitants of someone else’s nostalgia.
Don’t write off a whole island, with one of the most distinctive cultures in the world, because you heard it’s busy and polluted.
Bali does not exist solely for you to project your holidays goals onto. But it does want your money. It does want you to stay.
If you are all about that Canggu vibe, go to Canggu*, just don’t complain about the traffic and lack of rice fields.
*or go to Ahangama, as touched on here →
Bali is neither an untouched paradise nor a ruined influencer trap.
And I think what pains me the most is a willingness to judge a place and move on. Hop to somewhere at an earlier stage of the same journey, that suits you better, for now.
Kuta, Lombok has recently been touted as the ‘next Bali’. This year fast, poor quality development there contributed to some of its worst flooding ever.
I have my own fears and frustrations, as I watch another development go up. Or as I watch my lovely Indonesian neighbour diligently clear plastic out of the local subak (rice field waterway) only to burn it whilst her grandchildren play nearby. Before friends visit, I hope for high tides that wash the trash away to become someone else’s problem for a few days.
But Bali feels like home, and I want to stay and be part of the solution, whether that’s just putting plastic I find in my street into my recycling bin, or something more in the future.
The other day I watched a Melasti procession. The offerings went into the sea. A beautiful moment. Moments later they wash back up, now as trash. Nothing is perfect, but that’s life.
Next up: the plastic problem, and why it’s not as simple as it looks.
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I've lived in Bali for 8 years and this is one of the first articles about Bali that actually "gets it". The Balinese is what Bali is about! It's not about how well it fits into _your_ picture of what it should be. Well done. And yes Nyepi and its preparations are truly wondrous.
One of my favourite pieces thus far I think.