I waited my whole life to go to Bali. Now I wish I had kept waiting.
- For years, I had a vision of Bali in my mind as a sparkling, pristine paradise with empty stretches of beach.
- I finally visited the Indonesian island last year, and it turns out, that vision was wrong. What I found instead, in large part, were tourists snapping variations of the same photo and trash littering the beaches.
- I spent time in Canggu, Ubud, and Padang Bai - and only the third of those stood up to my expectations.
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When I was a kid, I would stare at the wall-size map that took up my childhood bedroom and fantasize about the most remote places on it.
The first time I saw Bali on the map, I pointed to it and said, "There. When I go there, I'll know I made it."
This was at least 20 years ago.
In my mind, Bali was a remote paradise, carpeted in jungle and mist, and ringed in sparkling Indian Ocean. As I grew older, that fantasy became solidified for me, and it was partially thanks to Instagram. My feed was inundated with visions of vast landscapes, empty shorelines, and beautiful temples.
Okay, let's be real. Anything with that kind of expectation weighing on it is packed with pressure. I was probably setting Bali up for failure from the beginning with this monumental expectation.
That said, the Bali I discovered was a far cry from the fantasy Bali of my dreams.
Bali: Tourists and mountains of trash
The journey began touching down in Denpasar. I could feel the excitement coursing through my veins as I handed my passport to the immigration officer and heard the stamp of approval: I was officially in Indonesia. Off in the taxi I went for the black sand beaches of Canggu. From my research, I had gathered that Canggu is tamer, more peaceful, and less party-heavy than the resort-flanked beaches of southern Seminyak and Kuta.
There are two things every traveler should know about Bali. First, the island has fallen victim to what I like to call "The Instagram Effect."
Those pictures of women in flowing dresses leaving the only set of footprints in the sand are beautiful, but they're just not reality. Bali is crowded. The only way you're getting a picture like that is if you're awake at sunrise and have smoothed over everyone else's footprints, and have also moved all of the garbage out of your shot.
Yes, the garbage. Heaps of it. Which brings me to my second point: Bali is very polluted.
Tourism is the biggest industry in Bali: It makes up about 80% of Bali's economy. From January to October 2018, Bali welcomed 5.16 million foreign visitors. But with that level of tourism comes a massive amount of waste. In Bali, plastic clogs up the surrounding waters and is hurled to shore each day. And because of where Bali is positioned geographically, it catches plastic from other Indonesian islands as well as the Philippines and Malaysia.
In fact, in 2018, Bali declared a "garbage emergency," according to the BBC. Indonesia is the second-largest plastic polluter of oceans in the world, after China. Snorkeling off the coast of Bali just doesn't ring as romantically when you have to pick plastic bags out of your hair.
The garbage in Bali didn't ruin my vacation, but over-tourism and a lack of local education about waste removal are both serious problems. Bali is beginning to tackle the issue now; the island aims to reduce its ocean waste by 70% by 2025, but there has already been so much damage done.
Canggu might have been a haven for the spiritual in the past - but it certainly isn't any longer
Back to Canggu: I was told Canggu was tame. Now that I've been there, all I can say is that if Canggu is tame, I would be terrified in Seminyak or Kuta.
I'm not a stranger to party scenes, but parties are not why I was going to Bali. I was going to Bali to find peace, to reconnect, to detach, and to detox.
It's difficult to do that when a big, rowdy group of my Australian neighbors is inviting me to an afternoon beer pong match. Or worse, watching the effects of said beer pong match as the same neighbors dragged themselves home at dawn, emptying the contents of their stomachs on the street and shakily proclaiming that it was the best night ever.
Beyond the party scene, Canggu strikes me as having fallen victim to the same problem that Tulum, Mexico, has.
It is clear that Canggu used to be a haven for the spiritual. But as real estate prices went up along the shores of Seminyak and Kuta, more travelers made their ways up the shore to the once-farther afield beaches like the ones in Canggu.
And, much like Tulum, what was once a sleepy hideaway has transformed into a jet set destination on its own, replete with expensive salons, gluten free cafes, and lots of Lululemon. My idea of escaping to a Southeast Asian island doesn't involve chalkboard menus advertising gluten-free muffins.
After five days of trying to make Canggu something it wasn't, I decided to change my plans and go east across the island to the small port town of Padang Bai.
Padang Bai was close to the vision of Bali I had imagined
There were some examples of the Bali I had imagined, and Padang Bai was definitely close.
Padang Bai is the launch point for travelers going to explore or dive off the Gili Islands, which are three tiny islands off the coast of neighboring Lombok. Most people who visit Padang Bai don't stay more than a few nights before or after a dive trip. I didn't know this at the time, but I started to catch on during my 10-day trip when locals would ask, "You're still here?"
It had a few beaches with sugary sand and electric blue water. It was a good spot from which to explore local temples, including what appears to be every Instagram influencer's favorite, Lempuyang Temple.
I managed to get myself out of bed at 4 a.m. to go take the quintessential sunrise photo, only to discover - after a two-hour car ride up a twisty mountain road - that it was closed for a Hindu ceremony. My guide felt so terrible about it that he drove me all around the area trying to find a suitable sunrise spot. The people in Bali are incredible.
Be prepared to pay a premium
Then there's the Bali experience you can pay for. You can have your "disappear into the jungle" moment, but it comes at a premium.
One of the perks that comes with being a travel writer is getting to experience top-of-the-line hotels. I wanted to see the best of the best that Bali had to offer; fortunately, I was able to arrange for stays at two ultra high-end properties outside of Ubud.
Here is where I fell asleep in a petal-strewn soaking tub to the sound of rain rustling jungle leaves, as incense curled its way through the misty air. Here is where I ate fresh fruit after a massage next to a gurgling river. Here is where I sipped tea gazing out onto jade-colored rice terraces.
This was the Bali I had pictured.
But by no means did I "discover" these on my own. They were curated experiences, and they came with a considerable price tag.
Ubud has turned into a set for influencers taking photos
The end of my month in Bali took me to Ubud. Ubud is the place Elizabeth Gilbert's "Eat Pray Love" made us all want to go in order to start our lives over, and bring back a Rattan purse as proof that we did. Back in 2006, when Gilbert published her controversial memoir (controversial in that either you got on the Gilbert train or stayed firmly off of it), Bali was, I'm guessing, different.
Gilbert's Ubud sounded like a center of healing, tucked deep in the jungle. Gilbert's Ubud sounded like a place you could go disappear into a hut to rediscover your purpose in life while being healed by ancient, holistic traditions.
It's not 2006 anymore. And if Ubud was ever actually like that, it has not been that way for a long time. Today the streets of Ubud hum with throngs of tourists.
I was there in January, which is low season - and crowded doesn't even begin to describe Ubud. It's filled with overpriced boutiques and restaurants that serve tapas and imported wine from South America. Everywhere you turn it seems there's a young woman in flowing white taking the same Instagram photo. Ubud has turned into a set for influencers to come grab their photo, eat something vegan, and retire to their luxury hotel.
Once again, this was not why I came to Bali. And this certainly is not the Bali that I had been sold on over the years. It seems there is a gross misinterpretation of what the modern Bali actually is. A place for partying, surfing, eating, drinking, and shopping, it certainly is. A place for authentic healing and disconnecting, it is not.
At least, not where I went. I have not given up on Bali. I've heard the north coast and the western part of the country, as well as other parts of the interior outside of Ubud, are still doused in magic. I waited my whole life to go to Bali, and I am not saying that I wish I hadn't gone. I am saying I wish I had kept waiting.
Maybe with a little more research, and a lowering of expectations, I would have found the Bali of my dreams.