Bali Travel Tips You Need to Know | International Traveller

Long a favourite escape for Australians, these are the best Bali travel tips to make visiting hassle-free.

The Island of the Gods is endlessly alluring – but the difference between a good trip and a great one is in the details. From understanding Bali visa options before you depart, to navigating Bali time and planning your stay around Bali weather, these insider tips will have you landing already halfway into holiday mode – sandals on, stress off.

Best time to visit

rice paddies in Ubud, Bali — Come rainy season, the tropical downpours transform Ubud’s rice paddies into a lush paradise. (Credit: Getty/intek1)

Bali sits just shy of the equator, with a steady daily temperature of 26–32°C and warm, humid nights. It’s a true year-round destination.

For beach clubs and salt-soaked days, the dry season, from April to October, hits the sweet spot: blue skies, lower humidity and long afternoons that melt into sunset cocktails.

Surfers, take note: the west coast – Canggu to Uluwatu – fires up in the dry season with offshore winds. The east – Sanur and Keramas – comes alive in the wet season from November to March, as winds shift.

December to March is Bali at its most cinematic: think cascading waterfalls, emerald rice terraces and the jungle-clad north. Yes, it rains, but it’s what brings the drama.

For temples and sightseeing, aim for the shoulder months of April to May and September to October: fewer crowds, good weather and a welcome breeze. Divers and snorkellers will find peak visibility from April to October around Nusa Penida and Amed.

For a quieter, better-value escape, February and March deliver fewer crowds and softer rates – with humidity and passing showers as the trade-off.

For a cultural hit, time your trip with Nyepi in March. Marking the Hindu New Year, the island falls silent and everything closes – even the airport. On the eve, towering Ogoh-ogoh effigies are paraded through the streets to a thunder of drums and clashing cymbals, warding off evil spirits.

Visas and Entry Requirements

I Gusti Ngurah Rai International Airport, Bali, Indonesia — Have your documents ready to avoid delays. (Credit: Getty/Narcissus Studio)

Arriving at I Gusti Ngurah Rai International Airport can feel like stepping into organised chaos – a humid rush of arrivals, slow-moving queues and luggage trolleys snaking through immigration.

The key to gliding through is preparation. Have your documents ready and within easy reach before you land to avoid delays. Keep both a paper copy and a screenshot handy in case you can’t access your emails or the internet.

Australians need a 30-day Visa on Arrival (VoA), which can be arranged in two ways. The traditional option is to purchase it on arrival – around A$50 – so have your card or cash ready to keep things moving.

For a smoother entry, apply in advance via the official e-VoA portal. With an e-passport and approved e-VoA, you can bypass the longest queues and head straight to the automated gates.

You’ll also need to complete a mandatory arrival card within 72 hours of arrival through the same online portal.

Your passport must have at least six months’ validity from your date of entry.

Money & Payments

a money change shop in Bali — A roadside money changer shop in Bali. (Credit: Getty/tang90246)

Bali’s currency is the Indonesian Rupiah (IDR) and it’s worth arriving with a small stash before you leave Australia. Once on the ground, money changers are everywhere in tourist hubs – just stick to licensed operators or official bank branches like Mandiri, BCA or BNI.

Cards are widely accepted but cash is still king for small vendors, market stalls and tips – where even a few dollars goes a long way. Tipping isn’t expected, but it’s appreciated: round up to the nearest IDR 100,000 (about AUD $10) in restaurants. Tip private drivers or guides IDR 50,000–100,000 and always hand it directly to the person.

ATMs are easy to find but stick to bank-affiliated machines, ideally inside branches or buildings, to avoid skimming.

Getting around

motorcycle driving along palm tree-lined road in Bali — It’s easy to get around Bali on a scooter (Credit: Getty/Guven Ozdemir)

Getting around Bali is part of the adventure – equal parts chaos and charm. Pre-book an airport transfer for a smooth arrival or join the friendly scrum of drivers waiting outside the terminal. Most hotels can also organise one before you land.

Taxis are cheap – stick with Bluebird for metered fares – but scams can happen, with some drivers known to tamper with meters. Ride-hailing apps like Gojek and Grab are generally more reliable (and handy for late-night food runs too), so download them before you leave Australia.

The real Bali hack is to hire a private driver for the day: affordable, air-conditioned and blissfully stress-free. Just don’t underestimate distances – a “quick" 20-minute trip can easily stretch into an hour in traffic.

Tempted to self-drive a scooter? Think twice. Accidents frequently occur and insurance often won’t cover these. Bali’s choking traffic is not for the faint-hearted and best left to locals.

Language

Locals speak excellent English, so you could breeze through without a word of Bahasa Indonesia, but a few phrases go a long way. Watch faces light up when you ask, “Apa kabar?" (how are you) or greet staff at breakfast with “Selamat pagi" (good morning). For anything more complex, Google Translate has your back.

Etiquette & Customs

gates to one of the Hindu temples in Bali in Indonesia — Hindu temples in Bali, locally known as Puras, are unique architectural and spiritual landmarks. (Credit: Getty/pawopa3336)

Respect is everything in Bali. Dress modestly at temples, use your right hand when giving or receiving, and tread carefully around daily offerings often laid on footpaths and entryways. Carry a sarong for coverage on temple visits and women should note they’re expected to avoid entering places of worship while menstruating.

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 Connectivity

Staying connected in Bali is easy. wi-fi is widely available in hotels, cafes and beach clubs, though speeds can vary.

Download WhatsApp before you fly – it’s the go-to for communicating with drivers, hotels and tour operators.

For coverage on the go, pick up a local SIM when you land at the airport or from official stores like Telkomsel in tourist areas, as well as convenience chains such as Indomaret and Alfamart. Prefer to skip the queues? An eSIM lets you get set up before you land.

Be sure to switch off data roaming to avoid bill shock.

Safety

handicraft shops in Ubud, Bali — Keep an eye on your valuables in busy areas. (Credit: Getty/jon chica parada)

Bali is generally safe. The main risks are petty theft in busy areas, scooter accidents and occasional drink spiking in nightlife precincts – so keep an eye on your drink and stick to reputable venues. Methanol poisoning in locally produced alcohol can be dangerous: very cheap spirits can be a red flag.

Solo female travellers are everywhere and typically feel comfortable, especially when using common sense, booking trusted transport and staying aware in the same way they would in any popular destination.

Practical tips

a food stall at Gianyar Night Market in Bali — Bring gastro medication to treat Bali belly. (Credit: Getty/stanciuc)

You’ll need a universal travel adaptor for European-style Type C or F sockets. They’re easy to pick up at convenience stores like Circle K if you forget, and a small power strip is handy for charging multiple devices at once.

Tap water isn’t safe to drink, so stick to bottled or filtered water and bring a reusable bottle to cut down on plastic waste.

While most restaurants and cafes have good hygiene practises, Bali belly can happen so bring gastro medication. Probiotics can be a good way to ward against it.

Pharmacies are everywhere for basics, but sunscreen can be pricey, so pack your own.

Shopping is part of the fun. Bargaining is expected in markets, just keep it friendly and don’t quibble over small change. Retail stores are fixed price.

Don’t skip comprehensive travel insurance.

After youth-led protests in 2025, this year Nepal elected a 35-year-old former rapper as Prime Minister. In a country where tourism is its biggest industry, what’s next for travellers?

In 1986, Nepal changed its clock. It had used India Standard Time since 1920 so, to differentiate, it wound its clock 15 minutes ahead of, not behind, its big-brother neighbour. Boss move. “Nepal is strongly opposed to the idea that our identity is connected to India,” says Community Homestay Network (CHN) guide Bikal Khanal.

Tharu dance is traditionally set to hand drums. (Credit: Kate Lewis)

Today, Nepal is the only independent country with a 45-minute deviation to universal time; an oddity that’s become a symbol of national pride. The quirk is nearly as endearing as Kathmandu’s Tribhuvan airport where carved varnished wood and shiny red bricks rule. One sign points to a ‘Travelator’ and another to a ‘Grievance Handling Desk’ while visas are noisily stamped at customs for US dollars, cash only. When am I?

Spot the endemic Nepal gray langur. (Credit: Simon Urwin)

The 15 or 45 minute anomaly sees me tap out completely on timezone calculations. Why bend my brain calculating if it’s quarter to or quarter past elsewhere when I’m in the honking here and now of Kathmandu where the air is high-altitude crisp, the prayer flags flutter and the street dogs howl?

How tourism is changing in Nepal

Bardiya National Park is rich with wildlife. (Credit: Simon Urwin)

India is not the only association many Nepalis would like to shake. With eight of the world’s 10 tallest mountains, including Mount Everest and Annapurna, Nepal has long attracted mountaineers and trekkers, and expedition numbers are continuing to rise.

Tourism is one of the country’s biggest sources of foreign currency, so this growth is not negative, per se. But according to Ang Tshering Lama, who co-founded Phaplu Mountain Bike Club, being reduced to a mere trekking destination is limiting.

“Trekking is just one layer of our identity,” says Ang. “When it becomes the dominant narrative, it limits how we’re seen and how we see ourselves.” Nepal’s recent success, however, in diverting trekkers to less-trafficked areas such as Manaslu mofuntain, where visitor numbers rose by 117 per cent last year, offers hope that tourism can diversify even more radically.

Local men in Bhada village. (Credit: Simon Urwin)

The founder of CHN, Shiva Dhakal, wants that change. “The whole idea of the Community Homestay Network is to promote experiences outside of trekking,” he says. “Community tourism changes lives and helps kids stay home instead of coming to the city or migrating to the Middle East.”

Ang grew up seeing people leave, “not because they wanted to but because there weren’t enough opportunities to stay”, he states. Yet from remote villages to living traditions; food, art, music and emerging subcultures, “there’s so much that’s not being seen.”

CHN is opening some of those doors. It doesn’t own, or fund, any homes. Rather, it promotes homestays to travellers on a single, slick platform, while fostering entrepreneurship in places where women, marginalised castes, Indigenous people and the youth stand to benefit the most.

A new generation demanding more

Dalla Town Hall, where volunteers discuss anti-poaching tactics. (Credit: Bheem Thapa)

The future prospects of next-gen Nepalis can no longer be ignored. On a Kathmandu tour with 33-year-old guide Monica K.C, we pass buildings torched in the September 2025 ‘Gen Z protests’, including the Supreme Court and Parliament House. Seventy-two people died. “They were anti-corruption protests,” says Monica. “Politicians’ children are living a lavish life but the airports are crowded with youngsters leaving to find work.”

We stop in ‘little Tibet’ at the wondrous sixth-century Boudha Stupa. “The wheel of life is Buddhism in a nutshell,” says Monica. “Things such as hate, ignorance and anger keep you rotating around the wheel, so you must follow the principles of Buddhism to detach. If you can’t, there’s no nirvana for you.”

Boudha Stupa's prayer wheels — Boudha Stupa’s prayer wheels are used to recite Buddhist prayers. (Credit: Kate Lewis)

In a sun-drenched twist to the usual temple visit, we ascend the stupa’s sloping plinth and roam its whitewashed dome. Tendrils of diaphanous prayer flags stream from a steeple-like structure where the Buddha’s unblinking eyes stare out. No nirvana for you…

bouda stupa prayer flags — Tibetan-style prayer flags embellish the whitewashed dome of Bouda Stupa, a Buddhist temple. (Credit: Kate Hennessy)

The dome is delightfully free of guard rails or chiding from security. There is, however, a stern ‘No TikTok’ sign, perhaps in response to the youth’s newly flexed power. The booted-out Prime Minister, K.P. Sharma Oli, was replaced in a resounding election victory in March by 35-year-old Balendra Shah of the Rastriya Swatantra Party (RSP) – a former rapper and mayor of Kathmandu. The RSP’s manifesto indicates tourism is a priority, and that Nepal’s cultural identity in areas such as gastronomy will be strengthened.

Boudha Stupa vendors — Vibrant souvenir shops and cafes around Boudha Stupa. (Credit: Kate Hennessy)

A more confronting stop awaits at Pashupatinath Temple. Today is Bala Chaturdashi, a Hindu festival where thousands of devotees gather to honour their dead ancestors. Vendors hauling foam mattresses do a lucrative trade as people set up for a night of vigil. This includes burning the bodies of recently deceased relatives on bamboo pyres in the Bagmati River, which flows into the sacred Ganges.

A woman at annual Hindu festival Bala Chaturdashi, in Kathmandu. (Credit: Kate Hennessy)

Wrapped in a shroud, the bodies are positioned with their heads facing north to the Himalayas where Lord Shiva resides. They’re covered with flowers and straw and set alight by male family members.

Hours later, the ashes are swept into the river where devotees will take a holy dip the next day. As much as Monica assures us it’s not voyeuristic to watch, I struggle to do so. “Here you see the reality of life because everyone ends up there,” she says, gesturing to the river.

Life unfiltered in the Terai region

tharu woman — Tharu woman and master weaver Parbati Chaudhary in Bhada Village. (Credit: Bheem Thapa)

The reality of life needs processing time, which the western Terai region delivers in spades. The Terai is largely separated from India by the Karnali River and Bardiya National Park, where elephants, rhinos and the elusive Bengal tiger roam.

Once a nomadic tribe, the Indigenous Tharu people are now the largest ethnic group here. “They didn’t know their daily life was interesting for international travellers but they’re starting to understand now,” says CHN founder Shiva.

Take a Jeep safari through Bardiya National Park. (Credit: Bheem Thapa)

We fly Buddha Air to Dhangadhi airport and drive five hours to stay in Tharu homes. The journey to Bhada village is a blur of roadside fruit stalls, traffic-stopping sacred cows and fields sown with wheat, rice, mustard, spinach, cauliflower and potatoes. Nepal’s agriculture feeds only Nepal.

Marigolds are an important part of Hindu rituals. (Credit: Simon Urwin)

“The only thing we export is young people,” says our guide Bikal. As the light dims and we plunge evermore rural, mysterious mounds of compacted hay – some house-sized – loom like the creatures from Where The Wild Things Are. Even our trusty driver gets flummoxed by a dirt road that abruptly ends and we find ourselves hurtling across a paddock.

On arrival, some are ferried to mud-walled cottages greened by gourd creepers, with thatched roofs and rustic-chic mosquito nets. Myself and two others are ushered to the home of corner store owner, mechanic and mushroom farmer Man Kumar Chilaruwa and his wife Rajkumari.

community homestay entrance — A warm welcome at a community homestay. (Credit: Simon Urwin)

They escort us to a bunker-esque back building with steel doors and a folding security gate, behind which is gleaming linoleum, dolphin-printed tiles and a shower cavity that must be gingerly stepped through to reach the toilet.

The ceiling lights emit a rainbow of colours (the bathroom light gets stuck in, frankly, a quite frightening red). We’re nevertheless touched that our hosts invested in all this bling when the average salary is around $275 a month.

In the coming days, we participate in Tharu traditions such as making moonshine, dancing, weaving straw handicrafts and gold-panning. We’re fed well with staples of rice, mustard greens, lentil pancakes, daal, curried chicken and tomato chutney served on antibacterial saal leaves.

food at community homestay — Dig in. (Credit: Kate Hennessy)

Sonara community homestay president Indradevi Tharu tells us river snails are often served, and the boiled and pickled flesh of rats hunted in the rice fields. “Perhaps next time?” we say and all have a laugh.

The power of community homestays

community homestay owners in Nepal — Barda community homestay owners Parbati Chaudhary and Ram Krishni Devi Chaudhary. (Credit: Simon Urwin)

Immersing Western visitors in foreign cultural practices is not new. But with the Tharu, I never get that uneasy sensation that I’m being performed for. Despite being the only tourists, there’s no ‘othering’; just warm, composed and ultra-dignified welcomes. Like we’ve always been here.

“I love to have travellers in my village so I can see the world,” says local woman Parbati Chaudhary. “Why would I travel the world when the world comes to me?”

The graceful acceptance the Tharu offer, as well as the slow pace, works miracles on my frazzled nervous system. One day I even take a nap on a vacant homestay bed.

Sonara community room — An authentic stay in the Sonara community. (Credit: Kate Hennessy)

Roosters strut and goats bray as we sit on the ground in al fresco kitchens, rolling rice flour into cylinders steamed to make dhikri (dumplings). When water is needed, we fetch it using a hand-operated pump as a family of ducks strolls by, side-eying us like curious neighbours.

Animal lovers will delight in Tharu villages. Kind and resourceful inventions are everywhere, such as snacking stations where two posts lean together, with leafy boughs dangling on rope for baby goats to forage from.

CHN’s CEO, Aayusha Prasain, nods knowingly when one in our group says she cried when she left her host, Shayam Chaudhary, in Bhada. Shayam’s 17-year-old son, Prashant, had translated, which deepened the connection.

“Community tourism turns travel into a relationship, not a transaction,” says Aayusha. “It places decision-making power in the hands of local communities, especially women and youth.” Since 2018, CHN has hosted more than 4000 travellers from 52 countries in 408 households, and estimates women’s participation has increased by 381 per cent.

In the Bardiya community, where vexing human-animal conflict has been a balancing act for decades due to elephants raiding crops, long-time homestay operator Salik Ram Chaudhary says young people keep the older ones on their toes.

“We can’t keep homestays stagnant,” he says. “We have to upgrade our service and redefine our product or young people won’t see it as an attractive business. If we can keep evolving with this travelling trend we’re confident the youths will stay and continue it.”

Back in Kathmandu, Monica explains that after the deaths of young protestors in September, a determination had spread to not let their sacrifice be in vain. “We want to keep holding the government accountable,” she says. “We don’t know what situation we’re facing, but we’re ready to face it.”

Interested in Nepal but prefer to experience it in total comfort? Read our guide to luxury travel in Nepal.

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