New beginnings in Bali as island lures back tourists
Bali lures visitors back with a new “urban resort” and the chance to do tourism differently.
One hundred and five reasons to tread carefully in Bali are flapping about adorably in plastic tubs filled with seawater. After a two-year respite from tourists, Kuta Beach is looking a treat. The sea is clean, and the sand looks as freshly laid as the baby sea turtles we’re about to release.
Volunteers from Kuta Beach Sea Turtle Conservation have hatched this brood of baby Olive Ridley sea turtles from eggs gathered further down the beach. Without intervention, few of these hatchlings would survive the crossing of the beach to the sea. Coastal pollution, nesting site destruction and the conversion of turtle habitat into places of tourism are the leading causes of sea turtles’ crash in numbers over the last decades. For the turtles, the pandemic was the best news in years.
So there’s a troubling incongruity in being here as a tourist, and helping these turtles get the best start in life. But the passionate volunteers make us believers. We’re each given a baby turtle in a container and advised not to give them names, lest we get too attached. On the call of I Gusti Ngurah Tresna, the man known as “Mr Turtle”, we tip our tiny reptiles onto the sand, where they start inching instinctively towards the sea, flippers ticking over like a feeble wind-up toy. Every so often a wave washes them back and Mr Turtle shouts “Don’t move!” as they flail in the foamy water at our feet. Eventually they’re carried out to sea, and the moment feels ceremonial. New life is beginning in Bali, and we’re a part of it in every way.
I’ve flown in on the first Virgin Australia flight to Bali since the pandemic and the return of the Australian market is clearly a big deal. Our plane is given a water cannon salute, the Governor of Bali greets us at the airport and our van even gets a police escort to our digs. Opened in 2020, Mamaka by Ovolo is the newest hotel in Kuta. In an area that was in sore need of post-pandemic refreshing, it’s a modern gamechanger, billed by the Hong Kong-owned brand – which already has eight boutique hotels Australia – as Bali’s first “urban resort”. It’s a deft way of subverting expectations. While there are no gardens or grounds, the property fulfils the resort brief within urban architecture, embodying Ovolo’s trademark sense of chic at every turn.
Kuta Beach is but a moped-dodging dash across the road and venue for a rotating roster of complimentary fitness classes. There’s a 24-hour gym and free self-service laundry. And the hotel’s rooftop bar and restaurant, Kuta Social Club, has the best view in Kuta, with faux alang-alang grass thatching covering a gabled roof structure, reminiscent of a village hut. Over a breakfast bowl of soto ayam (shredded chicken and vermicelli in a turmeric broth) I can watch the waves roll in at the beach, or planes land at the airport.
Sunbeds and cabanas line Mamaka’s dazzling rooftop swimming pool, and cocktail mixology classes are timed for sunset. Come evening, thunderclouds gather across the Indian Ocean and the menu morphs to Mediterranean, with catch from the Jimbaran Fish Market, dry-aged Australian beef steak and local wine from Sababay Winery (who knew Bali had wineries?). The ground-level pan-Asian cocktail bar Street 32 serves up street-style comfort food ranging from burgers to ramen, and good local coffee.
Bright blue, 3D butterflies by French-American artist Punkmetender dominate the lobby, but it’s a retro surfing vibe throughout – very post-backpacker boom Bali – accented by oh-so-Ovolo splashes of vibrant coral, greens and blues. Among the 191 rooms and suites, my “Swagger Suite” has a king-sized bed, a comfy retro lounge, large bathroom with a deep, free-standing bath, fully stocked DIY cocktail bar (with recipes) and complimentary minibar. It’s full of eye-catching details: guitar sculptures, artful lampshades, drink coasters styled as seven-inch records. You can order room service or book a massage through a smartphone app. For all the modern tech and funky fittings, I’m just thrilled my room has a window you can open (all too rare in hotels these days). I fall asleep to that familiar South-East Asian thrum of waves, barking dogs and motorbikes, and wake up to a yoga class, or beach bootcamp. So that’s an urban resort.
Their island may be synonymous with surfing but the ocean traditionally held little appeal to the Balinese, who believed different entities abided by strict geographic demarcations. Gods inhabited the summits of the volcanos and humans held the land in the middle, while the sea was the domain of demons. But if anyone can slay those demons it’s my surfing instructor Made Switra, an Indonesian pro-surfer who co-owns Quicksilver Bali Surf Academy with his Australian wife Holly Monkman.
Switra is all muscle and effortless poise, looking like a bronze statue as he demonstrates how to balance on the surfboard. It looks so easy, and it is. I lie on my board and paddle as instructed, then lift my body up, planting my feet in a graceful two-step motion. I’m standing! Stage one of the lesson complete, Switra deems me proficient enough to get off the sand and try the real thing in the ocean. For the next hour I do a great imitation of a pair of boardshorts inside a tumble dryer. My crashes are spectacular, but it never feels dangerous, only exhilarating. We’re all beginners and by the end of the lesson we can all boast to having stood up and ridden a wave, even if it was just a prelude to another wipe-out. It’s tremendous fun, and Switra is all smiles too, now that he has visitors back to instruct.
Relief that life is returning to normal is apparent on the streets. We jump on Vespas and weave through busy Kuta laneways to Poppies restaurant, where the charm of old Bali has been bottled and preserved since the day it opened in 1973. Amid a tropical hanging garden, ponds and waterfalls we sample Indonesian sweets such as klepon (a sugar-filled rice cake), pandan pancakes and black rice pudding, and wash it down with a pina colada served in a coconut carved into a mythical “barong”, a lion-like creature and king of the spirits. I’ll drink to that.
Our progressive lunch moves on to the family-owned Santorini Greek Restaurant. Over plates of grilled souvlakia, chicken gyros, meatballs and zucchini fritters, Lia Spyropoulou recalls the eerie desolation of the height of the pandemic: “It was so quiet you could hear the waves from Kuta Beach for the first time. When we saw people returning it brought tears to our eyes.” Talking about it brings back the emotion, but she pulls herself together and leads us outside for some cathartic plate smashing and dancing in the street. To new beginnings in Bali…
Perfect for: Beach lovers, surfers, families.
Must do: Explore the laneways of Kuta on foot or on scooter. Pay your respects at the memorial to the victims of the 2002 Bali bombing 20 years ago this October. Families will love Waterbom Bali, with its thrill-seeking water rides, in-pool bar and tropical greenery.
Dining: Take a deep dive underground at The Cave Bali, a subterranean restaurant helmed by chef Ryan Clift that opened in May this year. A seven-course degustation menu is paired with projections on stalactites inside the 25,000-year-old cave in Uluwatu.
Getting there: Major airlines fly direct to Bali from most capital cities. Virgin Australia flies to Denpasar daily from Sydney and Brisbane, five times a week from Melbourne. Gold Coast services begin in March 2023.
Bottom line: Mamaka by Ovolo Queen rooms from $120 per night. Swagger Suites from $350. Two-bedroom Top Gun suites from $465.
ovolohotels.com/mamaka
HOW BALI HOPES TO BRING BACK ‘GOOD’ TOURISM
The mystique of Bali has never been better captured than in Island of Bali, the 1937 travelogue of Miguel Covarrubias, a Mexican painter and writer who was captivated by the richness of Balinese culture. He described Bali as “a cluster of high volcanoes, their craters studded with serene lakes set in dark forests filled with screaming monkeys”. The book glamorised Bali to the “smart set” in New York, and the island boomed as an exotic escape destination.
But even in the 1930s the destructive potential of mass tourism was apparent. In the final chapter, Modern Bali and the Future, Covarrubias writes that “Isn’t Bali spoiled?” was the invariable question greeting travellers returning from the island. In colonial-era Bali (the Dutch conquered in 1906), Covarrubias saw a living culture that was “doomed to disappear under a merciless onslaught of modern commercialisation”.
There are now seven hotels for every Balinese village. The island chalked up more than 6 million international arrivals in 2019 (and 10 million domestic). Up to 80 per cent of the economy is drawn from tourism, and the strain on the island’s resources – especially water and electricity – is immense.
The pandemic pause, however, has presented a chance for a recalibration towards sustainability, capitalising on emerging trends towards experiential tourism and meaningful engagement with local communities. Discussion at June’s Bali and Beyond Travel Fair tackled ways to shift the tourism focus from quantity to quality. Writing in Bali’s Timeless magazine, Australian-born artist Richard Horstman says demand for creative tourism could usher in a post-pandemic period of social, cultural and economic change: “The rebranding and reconfiguration of the Bali tourism industry from Desa Wisata to Desa Kreatif (tourism village to creative village) is essential. Leisure activities should shift to learning and innovation experiences.”
Traditional village schools of painting are growing in Batuan, Keliki and Ubud, and a thriving street art movement is developing in Denpasar and Canggu. Incubator programs are pivoting entrepreneurial youth towards fields such as agro-technology. The “KemBali Becik” campaign (kembali means “return”; becik means “good”) aims to promote renewable energy and sustainable tourism, and has produced a green travel guide for tourists.