Bali FAQ: Your travel, vaccine and PCR questions answered

It’s official: Bali is back.

On 14 March 2022, Jetstar welcomed the first wave of Australian tourists back to the island since the beginning of the pandemic. The mood on board was excited – passengers cheered as the aircraft jolted down on foreign soil for the first time in two years. But there was also plenty of confusion. This writer witnessed at least two passengers being held back at Melbourne airport gate because they did not satisfy documentation requirements to fly.

Want to avoid that situation and get back to Bali smoothly? Read on for answers to the most common issues.

Do I need to be vaccinated?

Yes – whether you’re a fan of the jab or not, you need at least two doses of a COVID-19 vaccine to travel to Bali. You’ll also need to download an international vaccination certificate from MyGov and print it out to show to Australian airline staff and Indonesian immigration authorities. Note that those state-based phone app certificates you show to get into your local pub will not be accepted.

Is there quarantine?

No – since 14 March 2022, Indonesia has welcomed back vaccinated tourists with no requirement for quarantine or self-isolation. However, upon entering Bali you need to show proof of an accommodation booking at a government-approved hotel (a CSHE hotel) for at least three days (print your booking, along with everything else). You need to stay at that hotel and return a negative PCR test on day three. You can still go outside the hotel grounds, go to the beach, surfing and to restaurants as you usually would – you simply cannot transit to other Indonesian islands or change hotels before the day three test.

Find a list of approved hotels here.

What are the PCR testing requirements?

Prepare for a few nose tickles! The Australian government requires you to return a negative PCR test within 48 hours of leaving the country. This costs $79 and can be done at a Histopath clinic – not just any regular testing clinic. The airport clinics at Melbourne and Sydney are very quick and can return results in under an hour.

When you land in Bali, you also need to take another PCR test at the airport (approx. AU$50). You then take a test on day three of your stay in Bali, and finally, a test within 48 hours of departure back to Australia. These can usually be arranged by your hotel – just ask reception.

What other documents do I need?

You will need to complete an Indonesian Electronic Health Alert Card (“e-HAC”), which you can download via this app. The process takes a while and requires you to upload some documents, so prepare to do that before you arrive at the airport. Other passengers will hate you if you get to check-in counter and spend 20 minutes holding up the line.

You also need to purchase travel insurance covering you for up to $25,000 in case you get sick. Many policies have unlimited medical cover, so this is a fairly easy bar to meet – Covermore, Jetstar and 1Cover all offer suitable options. Bring printed proof of your policy with you.

When you arrive in Bali, you will need to purchase a visa on arrival for the equivalent of about AU$50 (this was the case before the pandemic).

What happens if I test positive for COVID-19?

The rules around isolation requirements are changing rapidly in Bali; but the current advice is you will need to isolate in your hotel for at least seven days, at your own expense. If you develop severe symptoms, you will need to go to hospital – also at your own expense. Hence why travel insurance is a must.

Some luxury hotels now have dedicated quarantine wings for this purpose. It’s best to email and ask your hotel about the process if you have any concerns.

Sounds like a lot, is it worth it?

There’s no getting around it: the first day of PCR testing, airport queues, a six-hour flight, more queues, more swabs, is a drag. You’ll need to summon the patience of Hindu gods as you sit in those agonisingly slow, socially distanced airport queues.

However, once you’ve hurdled through the bureaucracy, a trip to Bali in this post-pandemic period is as magical – if not more – than ever. Personally, I forgot the stress of pandemic travel as soon as I stuck my head out the window of an airport taxi to suck in that gloriously hot, muggy Indonesian sunshine. Escaping Sydney floods and a soggy La Nina summer was a treat in itself.

Any remnants of nose swab discomfort cleared out with salty duck dives in glistening Uluwatu waters. There were few tourists around, meaning roads were empty, so it was easy to whiz around the island to different breaks. You can drop into previously booked-out restaurants without calling ahead. Lineups are not totally empty – but there are fewer wave-hungry, impatient visitors in the water. The surfers are mostly locals, and the vibe is very chilled.

Overall – yes, it’s worth it. I’d go back tomorrow.

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BALI DIARIES: ULUWATU AFTER THE STORM

Black clouds barrel across the sky like steam trains skipping a station. They were phantoms on a sunny horizon just moments ago.

“The sky is so dark,” a small bikini-clad woman stutters in an Indonesian accent. She is cowering, wide-eyed, on her longboard about 300 metres off the cliffs of Bali’s Bukit Peninsula.

We’re floating in dark water among a small huddle of surfers who, until moments ago, had been sharing two-to-three-foot, cruisy left-handers under saturating sunshine at Uluwatu. A crack of thunder pierces the sky and the lineup tightens. Now we’re discovering the special comradery that comes with being stuck in the middle of the ocean, thousands of miles from home, in a potentially dangerous weather event.

Uluwatu is a wild place even when the weather is clear. You hop in a taxi and careen around the cliffs to get there, park in a monkey-ridden jungle and trot down old temple steps to reach the water. The access point I’ve chosen is Suluban Beach – an iconic rocky cove made famous in the surfing film Morning of the Earth. Whitewash crashes into the cliffs and echoes around the cove but can be a deceptive indication of how big the waves actually are. On any given day you might paddle out into unseen overhead walls or – like today – playful, smaller lines.

Remember The Cave?

The concrete path to the beach has obviously upgraded since MOTE times, when jungle-bashing was the only way. Today, local women sell drinks and coconuts from eskies to thirsty surfers exiting the water. There’s even an enterprising group of photographers who shoot from the cliff all day and will airdrop their stills to you for AU$5 per shot (discounts if you buy more).

Speaking of enterprising; despite the pandemic, cafes that would impress Bondi influencers are cropping up everywhere along the Bukit Peninsula. Ours Bali is one such spot, where I demolish a creamy, crunchy salmon poke bowl I know I’ll be dreaming of for months afterwards. The venue also operates a spa next door and I’m so impressed by the food I talk myself into a massage there. I enter a dreamy second-floor oasis made of stones, timber and greenery, where my masseuse, Sri, proceeds to grind and poke my stiff shoulders and neck into submission. After an hour I am putty in this woman’s small but impressively strong hands.

It occurs to me that Uluwatu has really gentrified in recent years. I get talking about it to a friendly Australian expat in the surf – Nick – who catches my attention with the Tracks t-shirt he is wearing to block the intense Balinese sun. He is among the many digital nomads living in Bali, trading stocks and investments from a cheap-rent base.

“The pandemic obviously hurt a lot of local businesses, but there are others that have flourished while catering to surfers and the expat community,” he tells me, listing off a few recommendations for healthy bowls, vegan options, and coffee.

The Uluwatu dining experience has evolved in recent times.

“Selfishly, it’s been great for local surfers. There’s hardly anyone in the water and those that are here have a really friendly vibe. Locals won’t put up with any surf rage rubbish.”

It certainly feels that way today at Uluwatu. One tanned guy on a yellowing fibreglass calls me to go on a wave with him – “stay on, stay on!” – he yells, grinning. “Ladies first, always!”

Lineups look likely to stay quiet for a little while, too. Although Bali has reopened to tourists with no COVID-19 quarantine requirements, there are still plenty of hurdles to keep crowds at the gate. Double vax status and PCR testing, plus the risk of catching COVID and having to isolate in a foreign country will put a lot of people off. Hotels and airlines know this and are offering rock-bottom prices on sales (keep an eye out). In many ways, if you’re vaccinated and don’t mind the PCR nose tickles, this period of post-pandemic uncertainty is an ideal time to visit.

Kate enjoying a clean Ulus wall that looks incredibly enticing to east coast Australians who are still surfing in soupy, brown water.

Today, the waves are small but clean. Nothing to get incredibly excited about; but long rides reliable enough to draw grins from surfers turning off waves to haul themselves back out.

None of us predict the storm, though. It crashes into the coastline in much the same way I imagine the pandemic arrived in March 2020 – taking out the entire lineup with a random set wave, then churning up the previously glassy water with pelting rain.

Expats have enjoyed two years of uncrowded lineups, but well understand that Bali’s tourist economy needs to start humming again.

The locals curse and jump off their boards into the water – “too cold!” says my friend on the longboard, sheltering from the rain by dropping into the ocean. For me – a Sydneysider lucky enough to be one of the first tourists back in Bali – the rain is a refreshing contrast. I actually find Bali water far too hot when I’m paddling, so cool drops from the sky are a blessing.

The clouds hurry away as quickly as they arrive, leaving glassy lines in their wake. The waves resume the same period as before and the surfers begin our friendly jostling for position again.

We’ve all but forgotten the stormy turmoil of moments ago. For Bali’s sake, on a grander scale, I hope the rest of the world has too.

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Bali diaries: A day at Nyang Nyang

Betet Bali

Tucked below the soaring cliffs of the Bukit Peninsula, disguised by dense jungle and cascading rocky drop-offs, it’s the first place sun-lizarding tourists will bypass.

Just a couple of years ago it had no vehicle access. Surfers would scramble down a rocky jungle path, tripping over thongs, lugging boards, sweat and grumbles through the tepid heat. Today there is a comically steep concrete ‘road’ for scooters with board racks to careen downhill on. But cars still need to park at the top and you can’t see the swell from there.

A surf check at Nyang Nyang is thus a commitment to roll the dice and surf whatever Bali’s southwestern point dishes up.

“They call it ‘secret beach’ but the funny thing is, when there is no swell, everyone knows there will be waves here and everyone comes,” local legend Betet Merta tells me.

Betet and Kate heading out at Nyang Nyang.

Betet is a professional freesurfer and Uluwatu local who introduces himself by rattling off a star-studded list of mates he has paddled out with since his teen years (Kelly Slater, Mick Fanning, Taj Burrow, Andy Irons among them). He knows my Italian photographer Federico Vanno, who has lived in Bali for the past decade, as well as almost every person in the water today. It comes in handy when Betet decides it’s his mission to block for me in the bloated lineup, shouting and whistling whenever someone begins paddling on my inside. The locals dutifully pull off, leaving me – dumbfounded – to drop in.

Federico and I have come hunting waves during the first week of Bali being open to vaccinated international travellers with no quarantine. The island has been closed to holidaymakers for two years thanks to you know what. And my luck would have it that the ocean plays dead as soon as I get on the plane.

The vibrant beach scene at Canggu.

Fede drives from his villa in Canggu (flat, he tells me) and picks me up in the resort town of Nusa Dua – where I’m staying courtesy of Jetstar – to hunt down swell along the dramatic cliffs of the Bukit Peninsula. If anywhere has a wave in Bali, it will be here.

Bumping on the windy roads around Uluwatu feels familiar but different. The streets are noticeably quieter and cleaner than I remember – fewer people are walking, bartering, selling, and/or littering on the roadsides. There are depressing rows of boarded-up shops that fell prey to lockdowns and the lack of tourism. But there are also plenty of new, Instagram-worthy warung (restaurants) serving poke bowls and vegan tacos to the growing number of digital nomads living out the pandemic in Bali.

Betet nose-picking at Nyang Nyang.

I am impressed by a strong almond latte we pick up from a trendy looking café called Ituaja and start speaking with the owner. He tells me he pivoted into the business in 2020 after losing his job in a nearby hotel. He and his wife decided if they wanted to continue their daily coffee habit, they might need to make their own.

Another local, last night’s taxi driver Komang Bagiarta, tells me his family survived on “steamed rice and a bit of egg every day” through the pandemic.

“We cut the electricity at 8pm every night because we couldn’t afford it,” he says. “We lived like we were in the jungle.”

We tip the parking lot guardians when we arrive at Nyang with these stories fresh in mind, and leave the car on the hill.

A goofy footer winds up on an enticing corner.

Lines of swell begin to pop above the jungle canopy as we teter with boards and cameras down concrete snapbacks to Nyang Nyang. My hope is that the pandemic may have helped reduce numbers in lineups around Bali. But Fede reckons the dent is minor. There may be fewer tourists but we spot enough locals for a closeout set to scatter multiple figures and boards as we approach Nyang’s.

A familiar gut-skip of anticipation reaches my chest and I suddenly feel very rusty in the surf department. But Betet is next to me, jostling me to paddle out with him.

“C’mon Kate, let’s go! … These waves are easy! You’re a natural footer right? Perfect!”

I follow him out through the channel in bath-like warm water, and spend some time sitting on the shoulder, gaining confidence on the smaller right handers. Meanwhile, Betet casually sends it – pulling airs and 360s off the lip with the nonchalance of someone parking a car. Each time he paddles back out, he seems more excited to bully me into dropping deeper on the bigger set waves crashing through.

Tuck and trim for the author, Kate Allman.

“Go for a big one, Kate! Go for this one, THIS one!”

The reliable flow of a Bali reef break comes back as I stand up and cruise across the face with a few soft turns – generous, predictable and clean. Bali is back and I can confirm it’s a real treat for Maroubra locals worn down by weeks of storms, floods, and shark attacks.

I’m laughing now, as I twirl around on Betet’s contradictory calls – “this one!”, “no, too far…”, “THIS one Kate!”

A sun-browned man with long blonde locks and an Australian accent chortles at our increasingly childlike enthusiasm: “Which one?!”

I paddle while Betet yells back.

“THIS ONE!”

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Bali is back

Bali barrel

Surfboard bags swinging around corners, knocking over retractable security ribbon poles, and taking up an obnoxious amount of space in the check-in queue at an international airport. Oh, how I’ve missed this.

Most of us never thought we’d look forward to traipsing multiple bags and boards through a terminal, then nervously placing our quivers in the care of potentially errant baggage handlers before packing into a flying sardine tin with hundreds of other people for hours. But we also failed to foresee a viral pandemic shutting down the world and forbidding strike missions overseas for two years straight.

So, when Jetstar opens the gates to the first international flight to Bali from Australia since March 2020, the hype is real.

More than 300 passengers jostle to board the Boeing 787 taking off from Melbourne on Monday. Since the island announced it would be reopening to tourist travellers, demand for Bali fares surged. Jetstar CEO Gareth Evans is telling media at the airport that the airline sold more than 40,000 seats in a single day during a recent sale offering Bali flights for $99.

Nyoman-Satriaa reminding us of what we’ve been missing in Bali. Photo: Frederico Vanno

“We are very excited to return to Bali today after two long years, and we are confident that Bali will quickly regain its position as our most popular international tourist destination now that borders are open,” he says.

Jetstar is taking things slowly to start – with just three flights per week flying to Denpasar from Melbourne. There are no direct departures from Sydney yet (I’m told those will hopefully take flight in April). It seems worlds away from the 85 Jetstar flights per week, pre-pandemic, which transported legions of Aussie surfers to the waves around Uluwatu, Kuta and Canggu.

More than 1.3 million Australians visited Bali in 2019. In 2021, the total number of tourists to visit all year dropped to just 51, devastating the local economy.

The Balinese welcome party for Tracks correspondent, Kate Allman.

Those tough economic times help explain why a horde of Balinese tourism industry staff are eagerly waiting at the air bridge when we touch down, cheering and bowing as if welcoming home long-lost family. There are balloons, even a Jetstar-themed orange cake, and we’re told Australian media are invited to dinner at the Balinese Governor’s house tonight. The equivalent would be Her Excellency the Governor of NSW, Margaret Beazley, casually inviting a group of hacks from another country to spontaneous lunch on the lawn at Sydney’s Government House.

It all helps brighten the mood at the end of our first journey back to Bali, which has admittedly become drawn out by COVID-19 travel requirements.

Fiddling with documentation – including proof of a negative PCR test within 48 hours of departure, travel insurance, a minimum three-night confirmed booking at an Indonesian government-approved hotel, a Bali-specific online health check and download of the local COVID-Safe equivalent app – proves time-consuming in Melbourne.

When we touch down in Denpasar, all 300 passengers are shuttled into the terminal to show their array of documents to various officials. We are then seated at socially distanced chairs to wait for another PCR test (we’ll need to do another on day three of our stay). One positive is that the Indonesian government has returned to the visa-on-arrival system, whereby travellers can pay approximately AU$50 for a tourist visa when visiting for less than 30 days. Before this week, visitors had to apply for a visa before leaving Australia at a cost of around AU$300.

The whole palaver takes two more hours and I can feel myself getting frustrated. But anyone who has been to Bali will know it’s hard to stay annoyed at Balinese people. Beaming taxi drivers waving and grinning at us from an empty stand offer a bittersweet glimpse into how hard it has been for them during the past two years with no tourism.

There’s no need to wait for PCR results – the government will notify us later if we test positive (in which case we’ll need to isolate in our hotel room at our own cost). So, we shoot into a taxi and get straight among the beeping, honking, revving and roaring of Balinese roads. The din is less noisy than I remember, and roads seem to have more space or less vehicles. But the brazen barefooted scooter drivers, chaos of large roundabouts, and apparent disregard for any sort of rules-based road order remain a thrill.

One passenger on the Jetstar flight, audibly grinning behind his mask, sums the mood up best during take off. The plane is still gathering height and G-forces are slapping my head gently back on the seat as I relax into a gleefully familiar feeling.

“It will be the best flight we ever take,” the man turns to me and says. “Because it’s an international flight and it’s the first time in two years.”

Tracks will be in Bali all week. Follow this blog and our Instagram stories to see what Bali in a post-pandemic world looks like.

BALI TRAVEL REQUIREMENTS

On departure from Australia, you will need:

  1. A negative PCR test result within 48 hours of departure (must be done at an approved Histopath testing centre either at the airport or in the community and costs $79)
  2. International vaccination certificate showing at least two COVID-19 vaccinations
  3. Proof of travel insurance covering COVID-19-related costs (if I get sick and need to quarantine in the hotel, for example) up to AU$25,000
  4. Proof of at least three nights’ accommodation at a government-certified hotel (CSHE hotel – list of hotels here)

In Bali:

  1. PCR test on arrival in Denpasar (you can go outside the hotel and travel around Bali before you receive results)
  2. Day three PCR test at the hotel

If you receive a positive result at any stage while in Bali you will need to isolate in your hotel at your own cost. More information can be found here.

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