At Canggu beach, a small crowd has gathered near a temple building, not for prayer, but with white and yellow bags in hand. They are participating in a beach cleanup organized by Trash Hero. Two Indonesians, a French couple, and a Chinese national join the effort at Batu Bolong Beach. Sebastian, a German who, like most interviewees, prefers to remain anonymous, explains the task: yellow bags are for recyclables, white for general waste. "We try to collect as much trash as possible every Sunday," he says.
Sebastian notes the effort is primarily symbolic. They aim to make beachgoers aware of the waste problem, hoping it encourages them to dispose of trash properly or use bins. Volunteers move from the Hindu temple towards the crowded beach, picking up plastic bottles, aluminum cans, and cigarette butts amidst sunbathers and selfie-takers.
As sunset approaches, coinciding with Balinese temple offerings, the clean-up crew returns. They drag their bags, leaving trails in the dark volcanic sand. After sorting the collected waste, an Indonesian weighs it: 26 kilograms. This is less than on previous Sundays; Sebastian remarks the beach is relatively clean today. On other occasions, significantly more trash washes ashore, with Trash Hero once collecting 325 kilograms. "You couldn't find a spot without trash," Sebastian recounts.
Ministers from South Korea Complained to the President
While some plastic waste originates from mountain villages or neighboring islands, especially during the rainy season, Bali's Governor Wayan Koster states 41 percent of the trash comes from hotels, restaurants, and cafes. Beyond the sheer volume, issues include gaps in the waste management system, inadequate collection services, and overflowing landfills. Plastic is often incinerated, ends up by roadsides, or pollutes rivers. Indonesian President Prabowo Subianto publicly criticized the provincial government over the waste situation, citing complaints from South Korean ministers about the island's "dirtiness."
Mass tourism, which saw nearly seven million international visitors in 2025, strains Bali's nature, infrastructure, and social fabric. In July, environmental and civil society groups protested against new tourism projects, fearing the loss of Bali's charm – its rice terraces, Hindu spirituality, and beautiful beaches.
The transformation of Bali due to mass tourism is evident in Canggu. Fences now obscure construction sites where rice fields once flourished. Tourists and locals navigate congested narrow streets on scooters. At a Sunday market near the beach, backpackers, surfers, and digital nomads browse stalls offering essential oils, probiotic drinks, and protein smoothies.
Everyone is Welcome, But Rules Must Be Followed
Under palm trees, amidst clothing racks and jewelry displays, visitors pose for selfies and record Instagram videos. An Indian man named Peeyush praises the friendly atmosphere. In contrast, a 57-year-old Frenchman, Bertrand, sweating in front of a fan, finds the place "terrible, just too many people." He notes Canggu and Ubud, Bali's cultural heart, were vastly different just two years ago.
Indonesian investment banker Maria Kasa finds many parts of Bali, nearby Lombok, and the Gili Islands have become excessively noisy, with club music audible for kilometers into the early morning. "I prefer it a bit quieter," says the 35-year-old from Jakarta. She also observes a lack of consideration for local customs. "Some people don't understand the local etiquette," Kasa states. "Anyone who wants to come should – but they must respect the rules."
Many locals lament disrespectful behavior from some tourists towards Balinese people and culture. Incidents include topless scooter rides, posing nude at sacred sites, graffiti, and verbal abuse. Recently, a young Swiss man received a one-year prison sentence for mocking Nyepi, the "Day of Silence," in a video, complaining about its "crazy" impact.
Balinese Fear Becoming Outsiders in Their Own Homeland
In another instance, an Indonesian woman was denied membership by a running club, unlike her foreign husband. While the club denied discrimination, the two Dutch founders were subsequently banned from entering Bali. The incident resonated deeply, as many locals feel increasingly like strangers in their own country.
Long-term visitors, who have increased significantly since the Covid-19 pandemic, are shaping places like the former fishing village of Canggu. It now features vegan restaurants, yoga studios, and co-working spaces. One such workspace, a multi-story building with a cafe and gym, houses young men working on laptops.
Brodie, a 28-year-old from Perth, manages real estate projects in Australia, Dubai, and Bali from Canggu. He appreciates finding like-minded individuals among friendly locals, "who work on their laptops and care about their health." He argues that the misconduct of a few shouldn't tarnish the reputation of others, stating, "I'm one of the good ones."
342 Foreigners Deported from the Island This Year Alone
For many long-term visitors, the question of financing their stay arises. Cases of foreigners working as food delivery drivers, event organizers, photographers, and videographers – roles locals could fill – are becoming more common. Authorities have formed a task force to combat visa violations and illegal business activities. From January to June alone in 2026, 342 foreigners were deported.
Despite stricter controls, Bali remains a dream destination for many digital nomads. In Canggu, more land is cleared, foundations are laid, and concrete pillars rise, replacing the natural beauty that initially drew visitors. From Canggu, many tourists venture out on rental scooters to explore the island's stunning locations, including rice terraces, waterfalls, and volcanoes.
Nusa Penida, a neighboring island part of Bali province, is a popular destination. A 40-minute ferry ride from Sanur leads to the island, where a steep, narrow road from the pier ends at a crowded parking lot. From there, a stream of visitors heads to a cliff edge, where tourists stand so densely in front of a railing that the main attraction is initially obscured. Only by squeezing into a gap between photographing tourists can one catch a glimpse.
Below the cliff, a green rock formation resembles a T-Rex head – Nusa Penida's "Dinosaur Rock," a top Bali photo spot for years. However, a rusty scaffolding, secured to the cliff with side braces, now mars the view, described by an Italian tourist, Claudia, as an eyesore that should be removed immediately.
Nusa Penida's Glass Elevator Became a Symbol
The scaffolding was erected over the past two to three years for an 182-meter glass elevator intended to provide safe access from the cliff to Kelingking Beach below. Currently, only a steep, narrow staircase facilitates movement for the massive crowds. The planned elevator sparked outcry last year, with influencers and residents opposing its construction.
The provincial government also cited missing permits for parts of the project. Governor Koster ordered the structure's dismantling and restoration to its original state. Yet, the scaffolding remains, with a construction crane overhead. Chinese tourist Li Yuchen, drenched in sweat, finds the elevator idea not bad, citing the danger of the crowded stairs. "If there were an elevator here, it would be better for many people," he says, referencing a recent incident where an Australian fell to her death near the cliff.
For many international visitors, the construction project symbolizes the encroachment on Bali's natural landscape. While the provincial government has attempted to curb unchecked construction, a formal building ban for agricultural land in six districts took effect this year, prohibiting new hotels and commercial facilities on these areas. However, construction continues unabated in other regions, particularly in tourist centers in the south, which are exempt.
Returning to the mainland from Nusa Penida, a new tourist hub is emerging in the southwestern hills. Uluwatu, known for its dramatic cliffs, ideal surf conditions, and the majestic Hindu temple perched on a precipice, is transforming into a more expensive, luxurious, and exclusive version of Canggu. New hotels, villas, and restaurants are appearing everywhere. A newly constructed ring road, like a vast scar, cuts through the rocky landscape.
Some Surfers Now Call the Beach "Bingin Gaza"
Despite the intense development, one beach in Uluwatu retains a simpler character, with just one surf school, sun loungers, and a small drink stand. Access to Bingin Beach is via a winding path down a steep cliff. Instead of restaurants and villas, the descent reveals scattered stones, concrete debris, and steel bars. Near the beach, piles of construction waste are evident. Some surfers reportedly refer to the beach as "Bingin Gaza" due to the rubble, according to a man carrying his surfboard.
Remnants of former eateries, shops, and accommodations lie on the slope, demolished a year ago. Authorities stated these buildings operated without proper permits and some were on state land, necessitating their removal. "It's sad. I grew up here. I first came to the beach when I was five," says surf instructor Agus, standing by the shore in his wetsuit.
The government plans to build restaurants and a stage for dance performances, but the timeline is uncertain. "Everything should have been cleared by now. But it's still all here," Agus notes. He and some foreigners have begun cleaning parts of the beach. "Because if a big wave comes, it will sweep everything away and into the sea," the Balinese explains, highlighting the danger of metal debris.
Sitting under an umbrella, local resident Made sells drinks from a cooler. He recalls the first tourists arriving in Uluwatu in the mid-eighties. Some locals, including himself and Agus's parents, started small food stalls. Made operated his "warung" (eatery) above the beach for years, serving fried rice and noodles. "Now, like many others, I've lost my livelihood," the 61-year-old Indonesian says.
Among the beachgoers is 35-year-old German René, standing ankle-deep in the clear seawater. He and his wife are visiting for the second time. Bingin Beach was their favorite discovery on Bali. "Two years ago, all the buildings were still standing here." They only realized everything had been demolished upon arrival. The couple finds Bali's crowds overwhelming. While tourism benefits locals, René observes that "a lot is also being destroyed." He concludes, "A balance needs to be found."
