By Zach Hope and Amilia Rosa
Consider yourself a “quality” tourist? Bali, Australia’s favourite jaunt, has set an easy bar for qualification: follow the rules (the important ones at least) and be respectful.
This year the Balinese have added another, exceedingly modest, condition. And it is already being violated by about half the island’s foreign visitors.
Tourists soaking up the sun in Canggu, Bali, shortly before the pandemic. Visitor numbers to Indonesia have since rebounded.Credit: Fauzy Chaniago
The Bali tourist tax (authorities prefer “levy”) came into effect in February to drum up some $90 million a year to preserve culture and nature. The thinking is sound, if not yet the enforcement.
The amount per tourist works out to roughly $15, about the same as a slice of quiche at a cafe in Sydney. But of the 12,000-odd people arriving every day, at least 5000 – usually far more – fail to pay up, according to Ida Ayu Indah Yustikarini, a senior official in Bali’s tourism department.
The agency has spread the message “as best we can”, she says. Still, the gaping deficit remains, prompting random spot checks at popular tourist sites to light a fire under the laggers.
“There are citizens from a particular country proven to be most reluctant to pay,” Ida says without naming names. “We [also] have a few tourists who suspect it’s an illegal collection and refuse to pay.” Australians, she says, are among the best.
“The ministry is targeting 7 million tourists this year, but we have adjusted it down to 6 million as we want to focus on quality tourists and not quantity,” she says.
“We welcome everybody, but we need tourists to respect our cultures. This levy is a kind of filter to get quality tourists. If they refuse to pay a mere $US10 for preserving the island, maybe they are not the quality tourists we expect.”
But more than scam scepticism, tightness or a sense of entitlement, Ida says most people who don’t pay are simply unaware there is another, separate payment to make in addition to one’s regular visa fee.
The Balinese, inherently chill about a great many things, don’t make it easier for themselves. While Australians might expect to see our whipped and thirsty bureaucrats demanding proof of payment at every airport turn, the levy is scarcely enforced in Bali or publicised where it matters most. An arrival can pass through Denpasar immigration without so much as seeing a sign.
“A lot of people have got no f---ing idea,” said Luke, a West Australian we bailed up on Kuta Beach. “There are counters here and there are counters there [at the airport]. Make it easy for Australians.”
Luke and his fellow travellers paid online before their flight, the favoured option of the levy aware.
The Westerners we canvassed all said they had paid – and were happy to do so for a sum so small (there are no plans to jack it up) but collectively so potentially significant.
The scheme’s goals – nature and culture – sound nebulous because, presently, they are. Does “nature” incorporate overflowing bins?
Does “preserving culture” mean money will flow to the poor but traditional villages far from the tourist trail? No decisions have been made about how to divvy it up, but there is no shortage of free advice.
“Pavements and holes,” says Edward, a Canadian travelling with mates Andrew and Josh. “My wife can’t wear her heels here.”
Says Andrew: “Garbage pick-up.”
Charlotte, from the UK, complains of Ubud’s missing side-street footpaths. “We would’ve loved to walk from our hotel to here, but we can’t so we took a taxi – and that added to traffic and more pollution,” she says.
Traffic near nightclubs in Kuta, Bali.Credit: Bloomberg
Luke, the Australian, has been coming to Kuta for 20 of his 38 years. He loves the place and says he always will, but is saddened by what he perceives as a build-up of grot and disrepair.
“Bali was on the up and up and COVID-19 rocked it,” he says. “If they’re not careful, Australians might want to go elsewhere. But if [rubbish and footpaths] are the only things that are wrong, they’re doing okay.”
Komang, a security worker at Ubud Palace, wants renovations for historical sites and streetlights for the villages. “Don’t just focus on the main tourist area. We are Ubud people too,” he says.
Wayan, a restaurant supervisor, hopes for more security, public transport, more frequent garbage collection and an emergency fund for a future COVID, God forbid.
The tourism agency does not make the final decisions, but Ida, attuned to the foreigners’ gripes in the face of growing regional competition, including from hotspot Japan, says rubbish clean-up is its number one priority. But for the tax to work as dreamed, authorities need visitors to be willing and aware.
“A message for tourists coming to Bali: this levy is for Bali island, for its nature, culture and its people, and ultimately for its visitors. You,” she says.
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