When I arrived in Bali in January 2023, I couldn’t help but wonder if it would be as portrayed in Julia Roberts’ movie. Would it really be as spiritual as so many people of my generation imagine? Just like the movie Eat, Pray, Love suggests, Bali is a destination infused with deep spirituality that invites thousands of tourists to reconnect with themselves.
From the unique architecture to the kindness of its people, spirituality is undeniably a key aspect of Bali. Meditation centers, yoga retreats, monks, smiles, rice paddies – the island seems like a haven for those seeking spiritual awakening. However, there’s also nightlife, alcohol, noise, western food, and thousands of tourists flocking to Bali just to get drunk.
At that point, the face of the monk smiling at the protagonist in the film started to fade a bit. I quickly let go of the idea that I’d be doing yoga in the mornings and meditating in the afternoons, only to realize my nights were more about getting drunk than achieving enlightenment. Consequently, the promise of self-reconciliation, which had seeped into my generation’s consciousness, started to fade as I spent more time in different parts of Bali.
However, my trip was not in vain. Bali wasn’t the idyllic place we had been promised, but it turned out to be a blank canvas, open to various interpretations. As a result, I often asked myself: Where does devotion end, and performance begin? Are we truly seeking a spiritual experience, or are we just consuming spiritual products?
Spirituality in Bali as a Stage
Since Elizabeth Gilbert published Eat, Pray, Love, Bali has stopped being just a Southeast Asian island. In fact, it has become a symbol – a tropical sanctuary where broken western travelers come to heal among yoga, rice paddies, and ancient wisdom. Bali is now seen as a lost paradise, promising reconciliation for every conflict.
In this idealized version, spirituality in Bali is portrayed as accessible, warm, and ready to provide us with the perfect mantra for our Instagram feeds. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not saying Bali isn’t a paradise, nor that its people aren’t kind. Bali can offer us spiritual experiences, but it’s not the only thing you’ll encounter on the streets of this island.
The truth is much more complex, more human, and certainly less Instagrammable. Just like life itself, the island appeared to me as an ambiguous terrain, inviting the exploration of various phenomena. Yes, there is spirituality in Bali, but there’s also a massive amount of consumption – not just of material goods, but of all kinds of experiences.
The experience promised by the screen – yoga, meditation, and rebirth – recycled endlessly, ready to be exported to the West as just another product. For instance, photos with long dresses in rice fields are the result of an extreme production process, far removed from the real experience of visiting these places.
Bali is nature and beauty, but it is also consumption and the mass production of experiences designed to be posted on Instagram. No longer are we collecting fridge magnets; instead, we collect experiences on our feeds, experiences that rarely reflect reality.
Spirituality in Bali as a Contradiction
My experience in Bali was marked by contradictions: on the one hand, I did come into contact with the island’s Asian Balinese culture and everything it entails. Everywhere you go, you’ll find traditional food and encounter Balinese architecture. Nevertheless, I also found myself in a space highly influenced by Western culture and tourism. International restaurants, hotels, clothing brands clearly from abroad, and the exploitation of local experiences.
In Ubud, for instance, I saw meditation centers, Balinese ceremonies adapted for the tourist gaze, and shamans who seemed to be influencers. The famous Monkey Temple, where tourists desperately scrambled to take pathetic photos with the animals. Moreover, thousands of Australians and Europeans moved to Bali to “escape” Western life, all while knowing that the island was the perfect representation of Western culture in Asia.
Balinese religion, a deep mix of Hinduism, animism, and community rituals, is still alive. At the same time, it’s also being invaded by the Western desire to find “the meaning of life” in a yoga class overlooking the beach. This is the constant contradiction that pervades the island: local families living in continuous coexistence with foreigners. For example, on the streets you encounter more foreigners than locals. The promise of spirituality in Bali, but also the mass tourism, the commercialization of experiences, and the endless pursuit of money through the sale of all kinds of products.
Bali: Spirituality and Tourism
To begin with, if you’re planning to visit Bali, buy that ticket and embark on your new adventure in Southeast Asia. But don’t expect to find the fictional paradise portrayed on the big screen. Bali, in the end, is a far more complex and contradictory product than what we were shown in the movies.
Indeed, spirituality in Bali does exist. You can feel it in the culture, the temples, and the genuine smiles of its people. But it also coexists with mass tourism, turning that spirituality into a product ready for consumption. Bali isn’t just a destination to do yoga or meditate at sunrise; it’s a space of contrasts, where tradition mixes with the Western desire to find meaning in exotic landscapes.
In reality, Bali embodies the desire to escape the mechanical Western life, only to migrate toward a more comfortable reproduction of Western society. This island is like a small world where you can find all the comforts and luxuries of the society you are trying to escape.
Furthermore, The much-criticized capitalism is once again visible in the commercialization of experiences: in the staged productions for tourists to take photos in rice fields wearing dresses no one would wear in Bali’s climate, or the exploitation of animals to create Instagrammable experiences for travelers.
Conclusion
For those seeking an authentic experience, Bali offers far more than just a picture-perfect postcard for Instagram. It can be an uncomfortable mirror that asks us why we travel, what we’re truly looking for, and what fantasies we carry in our luggage. Are we seeking to genuinely connect with the local culture, or are we simply looking for a replica of our cities in a more pleasant setting? Do we want to learn from the place, or do we want to consume products just to tell others that “we’ve been to Bali”?
Ultimately, beyond what we saw in a movie or read in a book, the true journey in Bali begins when we stop seeking certainty and open ourselves up to the complexity of what the island truly is. When we realize that the product representing that fiction hides the many contradictions this Southeast Asian island carries.
In the end, only then can we truly appreciate the real beauty of Bali. Behind the product sold to us, which has been ingrained in our collective imagination, the island represents the integration of Western and Balinese culture. Bali is endless nature, but it is also the plastic object of consumption reproduced in thousands of Instagram feeds.
The journey to Bali depends entirely on what kind of journey you want to embark on. If you want to gain self-knowledge through integration with the local culture, or if you just want to consume products made from artificial experiences ready to be posted online. Whatever you decide, Bali has something to offer.
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If you’re interested in learning more about Asia, check out my post on the dualities of Bangkok and Buddhism in Thailand.
Did you visit Bali? Let me know in the comments!