Bali – Indonesia’s famed tropical paradise, has become a overtourism hotspot.
When French-born American adventurer and filmmaker André Roosevelt traveled to the Indonesian island of Bali in 1924, he was conflicted.
The cousin of former President Theodore Roosevelt saw the clear beauty and attraction of the place, which he nicknamed “The Last Paradise,” and he would go on to produce a movie credited with kickstarting the American travel craze to the island and to manage resorts catering to such visitors. But he also questioned just how long this paradise would last.
Roosevelt wrote in 1930 that he couldn’t “stand idly by” and watch the impending “destruction” of Bali from the inevitable “invasion” of Western sightseers and holidaymakers.
Among other recommendations, he suggested the Balinese government impose “a head tax on all tourists.”
The idea of a tourist tax to combat the challenges of overtourism dates back to the 17th century though didn’t really take hold, beyond a few places like Bhutan in the 1970s, until recent years. Bali eventually took Roosevelt’s recommendation in 2024.
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Diners enjoying the sunset at a beach-side restaurant – and the piles of rubbish along the rickety stairs to get there.
The bikini-clad pose in front of a waterfall, while a snaking line of tourists await their turn on slippery rocks.
The alfresco smoothies with bamboo straws, right beside soot-puffing motorcycles stuck on jammed roads.
Millions flock to Bali every year in search of the spiritual Shangri-La promised in the noughties memoir and film Eat, Pray, Love.
What they’re greeted by instead are crowds, traffic and the cacophony of construction, which has ramped up alongside a post-pandemic boom in tourism.
Spirituality and a reverence for nature run deep: monkeys, cows and birds carry sacred import, large ancient trees are thought to house spirits, and the popular trekking volcano Mount Batur is believed to be protected by a goddess.
Bali was “one of the first places that there was all this talk of utopia and great beauty and culture,” says Gisela Williams, a Berlin-based travel writer who has been visiting the island since the ’90s.
“It’s the Balinese Hindu culture that has created this myth of the place.”
ey are disappointed with Bali being more crowded, they are also part of the crowd,” says I Made Vikannanda, a Balinese researcher who advocates for the protection of the island’s nature and people.
“It’s like when we’re in traffic, we’re like ‘Why is there so much traffic?’ But we’re in a car. We’re the ones driving the car, we’re the ones making the traffic,” he said.
Twenty-two-year-old Ni Kadek Sintya recalls a time when she used to ride her scooter through the quiet roads of Canggu, past paddy fields where she would take a lunch break.
Five years on, Canggu has some of the worst traffic on the island. And Ms Sintya’s journey to her job in a wellness resort is lined with villas and cafes, and impatient honks follow her all the way.
“I wouldn’t bother stopping, let alone rest there,” she said. “Now every time I ride past that spot I used to sit [at], there’s this feeling of sadness. I feel that Bali is being eroded day by day.”
Ade Mardiyati A line of motorcycles waiting along a narrow road as a car is trying to squeeze past a large truck at a construction site.Ade Mardiyati
Canggu’s narrow roads once cut through paddy fields – now they’re lined with construction
As tourism rises, hotels, cafes and bars have been fanning out from the island’s congested south.
The latest hipster destination is Canggu, a once sleepy fishing village that has become a magnet for surfers from around the world.
Canggu follows in the footsteps of other neighbourhoods, from Uluwatu to Seminyak, quiet backwaters that have transformed as tourists search for new “hidden gems”.
“Bali is a crucible in a lot of ways of overtourism,” s
“But no matter where you’re going in the world, I think it’s important for people to remember that it’s incumbent on you, the traveller, to engage responsibly with the destination.”
