I Lived in Bali for 4 Months. This Is the Price of Paradise.

In 2024, I lived in Bali for four months. There were many highs: a purification ceremony at Taman Beji Griya waterfall, an ecstatic dance in Ubud, and a surf camp so fun it made the subsequent event of catching Bali Belly (and projectile vomiting for eight hours straight) worth it. 

When I returned home, many people asked me: How was it? Would I recommend it to digital nomads? While I loved Bali, I felt that just saying “It was magical!” didn’t give the full picture. The reality is that the paradise you see on Instagram comes at a steep cost to the locals and the environment. 

Listen–there’s no denying that Bali’s Instagram-fueled tourism industry is the bread and butter of its economy. It comprises nearly 61% of Bali’s GDP and pumps billions into its economy while providing opportunities to countless Indonesians. 

But when nearly ⅔ of a country’s economy revolves around serving tourists? That can’t not come with consequences. The question is: What are those consequences?

Why I Moved to Bali 

Let me give you some context. Bali attracts around ten million tourists a year, and a big chunk of those people come to Bali in search of something. I’d know, because I was one of those people.

I moved to Bali to find something. What that something was? I wish I could tell you. I just wanted to snap out of the warm lull of my routine in Brooklyn and feel alive.

Namely, to escape my boredom, burnout, and above all, broken heart (are you even going through a breakup if you don’t try to flee the country? Kidding).

Bali was wanderlust catnip, and I bought a ticket without much second thought. I arrived in February and it wasn’t long until I fell in love with it all: The oodles of lush rice paddies in Pererenan, turquoise beaches in Lombok, and honey-blonde sunsets in Uluwatu. 

I decided to settle down in Canggu and rented a room in a two-floor villa for $850 a month. Canggu is a digital nomad’s wet dream: It offers a galaxy of coffee shop and co-working spaces with whip-fast WiFi. But above all? It is deliriously Western.

The streets of my Canggu neighborhood were dotted with Instagram-friendly cafés (read: fuchsia pink coated walls with signs saying ‘Another Day in Paradise’) and swarming with foreigners. There were times when I practically forgot I was in Indonesia at all. 

“What’s Really Going On Here?”

I’d been living in Bali for a month when I started to notice how it was being slingshot into a dangerous direction.

For starters: Construction. Was. Everywhere. It seemed like every road was buzzing with bulldozers and backhoes. These plots of land would soon be 40-unit villas, mega-malls, beach clubs and fine dining restaurants.

This unsettled me. Did the Balinese want their island to turn into a city? Scratch that: How did the locals feel about any of this? Their home had already changed so much–and would continue to as yogis, surfers, and digital nomads kept pouring in.

I messaged Jams, a Bahasa Indonesia teacher who openly shared his perspective on foreigners on Instagram. I was curious on his unfiltered opinion and if there were any ways us visitors could do something to help.

Jams was kind enough to meet with me and we chatted for two hours. He covered three broad categories where Bali is deteriorating:

Tourism’s Impact on Bali 

1. Overdevelopment 

Anyone whose spent time in Bali can agree: The island is drowning in construction.

An 182-meter glass cliffside elevator is underway so tourists can reach the world-famous Kelingking Beach, a beach notorious for dangerous currents and nonexistent security. In May, ancient limestone cliffs on Pemutih Pecatu beach were destroyed to create space for a huge ‘luxury residence’ (officials have since halted construction). 

This construction isn’t just ubiquitous: It’s hasty. “Before, you’d need six months to a year to get approval to build a local warung [small shop],” Jams explained. “Now, you can practically build overnight.”

One reason for this go-go-go construction is how easy it is to buy land. Google “how to buy land in Bali” and you’ll find hundreds of agencies at your service. While foreigners can’t technically own land they can get a local sponsor (either an Indonesian citizen or regional company) and get building. But it’s not as though the land is just up for grabs. Enter: The locals. 

2. Locals Are Being Ousted 

The majority of landholdings in Bali are individually or family-owned under a freehold title. But the Balinese are feeling the pressure to sell their land, including Pak Made A, a seventh-generation Balinese farmer. 

“Everybody has been asked to sell,” he said. “The land available to us is becoming smaller and smaller, and the cities are getting closer and closer.” 

What’s going on here? 

It turns out Balinese farmers pay taxes based on the estimated value of their land. So if a Marriott or Four Seasons springs up next to their property, their taxes skyrocket. The farmer can no longer afford to pay taxes based solely on their agricultural income. 

The result? They sell. 

Things only get worse. If the farmer still refuses to sell, luxury hotels, which use up to 70 times more water than locals, drill underground wells to access water. This gives them de facto priority over the local population, leaving Balinese farmers vulnerable to water shortages and at the mercy of corporate interests. 

This is obviously terrible. But is there an argument to be made that luxury accommodations offer economic opportunities for Indonesians? 

Let’s consider what kind of opportunities we’re talking about. While tourism does create jobs, they’re often low-paying, seasonal, and have precarious working conditions, found the International Labor Organization. 

Jams hypothesized this could be because Indonesians aren’t occupying high-level positions, such as project developers, financial analysts, or revenue managers. 

Instead, you’ll find them in entry-level hospitality roles. “If [foreigners] can’t see us as capable of building a business, that’s a problem,” Jams said. 

But it might not just be foreigners who see Indonesians this way: It’s their own. Apparently, some Indonesian schools prepare their students for jobs exclusively in tourism. 

“It’s up to Indonesians to step up,” started Jams. “Working hard isn’t just physical labor or sweeping floors.” In the future, Jams hopes to open a non-profit aimed at expanding employment possibilities for Indonesians. 

But what happens when Indonesians aren’t the employees, but the guests? Even then, discrimination can come from their own people. 

Jams experienced this first hand at a restaurant in the Batu Balong area, where, despite placing his order in Bahasa Indonesia, the waitress refused to respond in their shared language. 

“She only wanted to speak English, because foreigners were around,” he explained. “It is insane that you hate your own people. If you’re not proud of being Indonesian, then we are being invaded,” he turned to me. “You are invading us.” 

3. The Clientele 

Who is the “you” Jams is referring to? If you’ve been to Bali, you know it attracts a unique type of person–healers, yogis, crypto bros, influencers (So. Many. Influencers). 

But perhaps the largest swath of people who move to Bali are the life coaches—those who seek to better themselves and enlighten others. 

Life Coaches 

I met a handful of life coaches in Bali and they were wonderful people who genuinely wanted to help others. 

But I wondered if Indonesians shared that view. I’d always found it dicey to preach mindset and affirmations as a Westerner in a developing country (“I do think that if you believe in manifestation, you should be legally required to explain it to a homeless person,” says comedian Hannah Jones).  

The way Jams sees it? “Bali is already the most spiritual place in the world! We don’t really need them.”

With that being said, certain life coaches have positively impacted the island. “I’m grateful for the good life coaches in Bali, the ones who introduced mental health,” said Jams. “Usually, we [Indonesians] are told to just say a prayer and suppress our feelings.” 

Influencers 

Let’s go back to the influencers for a second. From Nusa Penida to Sad Kahyangan Lempuyang Temple, influencers come in droves to Bali to snap pictures at these iconic locations and advertise “paradise.” 

This creates a nefarious cycle: Influencers promote Bali. A new batch of influencers arrive, only to realize it's not the paradise they were promised (traffic, overpopulation, and pollution will ruin any illusion of tropical utopia). 

The influencers create content “exposing” Bali and leave the country, riding the coattails of their AdSense monetization while letting locals deal with the demand they’ve created. 

“Defamation is going viral,” Jams told me. “You come to Bali and take, take, take. Then you leave and post something unflattering. Why did you not try to make this place better than you found it instead?” 

Ways To Be More Mindful

What do we do now? Clearly, the answer to Bali’s woes isn’t to just…stop visiting. That’d create more problems then solve any. But there are some ways we can be more mindful, suggests Jams.

Here are some of them:

Learn Some Bahasa Indonesia 

One breezy May night, I met an Australian at La Brisa Beach Club. He’d been living in Bali for seven years and was telling me about his business in Bali (complete with Indonesian staff). 

“Your Bahasa Indonesia must be pretty good,” I remarked. “Actually, I don’t know any,” he sheepishly admitted. 

This stunned me. How could not he not know the basics? Did he not want to connect with his employees?

Sure, many Indonesians prefer speaking English with foreigners (which can make it hard for some to stay motivated to learn Bahasa Indonesia) but not knowing any? Not only is it a sign of respect, but it helps you connect with locals instead of just seeing them as wait staff, which brings Jams to his next suggestion: 

Befriend the Locals 

As Jams said, “Indonesians are not always your workers.” Limiting your interactions with Indonesians to transactional settings (e.g. clubs, hotels, etc) reinforces an unhealthy power dynamic. 

He went on: “People say they come to Bali to ‘find themselves’. But then they just stick to groups of their own people. Why did you bother coming here?”

I see this applying to the people who move to Bali on a one-way ticket and have plans to stay for the long-haul. As for the tourists? It might be more complicated as they’re on a tight schedule.

But there are little things they can do to have more meaningful interactions–be open and curious. Indonesians are bewilderingly friendly and we stand to learn a lot from them. 

Stop Trying to “Modernize” Bali

Part of Bali’s allure is its rich culture–the spiritual, centuries-old traditions and sweeping nature. But this way of life is slowly being erased to give way for a more city-like Bali. 

Jams suggests foreigners try not to “modernize” Bali. That could mean voting with your dollars (e.g. shopping at local businesses instead of faceless mega-malls). Or, it could be respecting the land around you–unlike these tourists, who created a petition (?!) to complain about noisy roosters near their Airbnb.

Don’t Be a Tool 

Lastly, if you wouldn’t do it in your home country, don’t do it in Bali. 

You’d be flabbergasted to learn what some tourists have done in the past, such as photograph themselves nude at sacred religious sites and publicly boast about how to evade income taxes. If you see one of these questionable characters in the wild, there’s a dedicated hotline to alert Indonesian authorities. 

Leaving Bali

In May, I left Bali to move back to New York City. I longed for my friends and family, and didn’t feel I could build a life 10,000 miles away from them. On one of my last nights in Canggu, I was driving home under a sparkling night sky, a soup of stars spilled onto its canvas. I’d forever be grateful for this place.

I am not the perfect traveler. I don’t think there is really such a thing as an “ethical” digital nomad. No matter where I go–Mexico City, Santa Teresa, Lisbon, Bali–my presence has an impact, for better or for worse. And as much as I try to be respectful and learn from locals, I’ll never fully erase the footprint left behind.

That doesn’t mean you shouldn’t visit these beautiful places. The world is a better place when we are connected and learn from one another. Just remember that wherever you go–Bali or elsewhere–you have a very real impact.

The good news? You have the power to make that impact a positive one.