Padang Bai: Friends to the Bitter End

What was meant to be a straightforward boat crossing turned into a masterclass in flexible timetables and creative definitions of luxury. Somewhere between a delayed departure from Gili Air, a harbour full of vultures, and a pleasant blue lagoon, for us Padang Bai stopped being just the place we arrived and became the place we stayed and it is a shame more people don’t.

A Long, Short Crossing of the Lombok Strait

Another early breakfast, followed by more slightly melancholy goodbyes to people we are only just getting to know. Our ticket confidently states that the fast boat to Padang Bai departs at 10:00, so we make our way to the port on Gili Air to exchange a receipt for actual tickets. We are, it turns out, early. The boat now leaves at 11:35. Why this should be so remains unclear, but it is presented as an established fact rather than a change. A pause, a breath, and a short walk around a familiar stretch of the island feels like the correct response, followed by coffee, before returning once more to successfully collect our tickets and wait.

On arrival at Gili Air we paid an IDR 10,000 island development tax, and on departure another IDR 20,000 harbour tax. It seems only polite to contribute both on the way in and on the way out. There was some grumbling on the way in about paying the less than fifty pence entry fee, I imagine these same people would be apoplectic with rage having to pay a pound to get off the island.

One last look at Mount Rinjani from the port at Gili Air

Many of the boats we had watched leaving Gili Air from the port wall were too large to come into the harbour, their passengers ferried out on smaller craft to meet them offshore. The company we booked with had the word Luxury in its name, so when we climbed aboard a rattling, well‑worn vessel I assumed this was merely the shuttle, a prelude to the impressive boat featured so prominently in their office posters. It was not. Nor were we changing boats at Gili Trawangan. The tub we were in was, in fact, the luxury experience. The seats were narrow, unforgiving, and became noticeably less comfortable once we began bouncing across the Lombok Strait. Once again, we were grateful for calm seas.

Padang Bai: Beyond the Port Wall

Mamu excited to be heading back to Bali

As we arrived in Padang Bai and the boat nudged the dock, it was enveloped by men dressed almost uniformly in black and grey. I was immediately made me think of the vultures in “The Jungle Book”, and the refrain “We’re your friends, we’re your friends, We’re your friends to the bitter end” kept running through my mind. Getting off the boat was an exercise in negotiation, as it was almost impossible to get off the boat because of the vultures crowding the exit offering taxi rides and bus tickets. Getting luggage an exercise in patience as there was just no room on the quayside and still the taxi offers and bus tickets came thick and fast. Padang Bai is in the grip of the so‑called taxi mafia and does not permit Gojek or Grab into the town, and while there is much talk of how ugly disputes can become, there is little visible accreditation to suggest who is official and who might simply be opportunistic, nor any indicator as to what would be a fair price. We had a moped pull up at the side of us offering a lift. A tall European stopped and talked to the guy wanting to go somewhere three hours away. The guy just got on the back of his moped and left, no agreement on price or anything. I am not sure I could have done that.

We followed a guy with a 2m marlin on the back of his bike out of the fast boat car park decided to walk west towards our accommodation. To be honest, Padang Bai is smaller than I had imagined, and we managed an almost perfect circuit around Bay View House before conceding defeat and asking for directions. As it turns out if we had walked straight ahead from the port instead of turning right, we would have arrived in seconds. Our host later told us she had seen us wandering and even asked if we were looking for Bay View House. I have no recollection of this, but then after a while, in places like this, one becomes oddly deaf to background noise.

Padang Bai is primarily a working port. Boats arrive throughout the day and evening (and possibly into the night, I was in bed), and it seems to be a place most people pass through rather than stop at. Fast boats discharge tourists who are quickly funnelled towards Ubud or the south, while the larger ferries unload trucks and passengers who depart without so much as a glance at the rest of the bay. Which is a shame, because beyond the port the setting is rather lovely. There is some tourism here, diving and reef conservation, and the harbour beach is clearly cherished by local families. Children play in the sand and water, kites flicker in the offshore breeze, which takes just enough edge off the heat to make sitting and watching perfectly agreeable.

Pura Silayukti

We walked up towards the temples overlooking the bay. It is a site with obvious potential, though little sign that anyone is particularly interested in realising it. My imagined version involved a nice warung, a view of Mount Agung, and two well‑presented, historically important temples. The reality was different. The area could use a great deal of care; the main area has more plastic on it than a 4G football pitch, shacks sell warm Sprite, and ambition appears to have stalled some time ago. The temples themselves are attractive but under‑explained, their historical significance quietly neglected (more information here). Still, it was an pleasant walk, despite the monkeys, which yet again bought a guest appearance from Velma Dinkley.

The Bit Where We Resist the First Large Beer

Back down by the port, the left-hand side of the bay is lined with a run of pleasant-looking hotels, dive shops, and an impressive number of pizzerias, as though someone had concluded that this is exclusively what Westerners eat. With the season only just beginning, everything felt subdued, so rather than commit to the first affordable large beer, we retreated to our room to do a little research. This proved worthwhile. One of the best places to eat was barely a minute’s walk from where we were staying. The cooking required patience, everything was prepared fresh, but the food was excellent and very reasonably priced. It made for a quietly satisfying end to what had been a slightly disjointed day.

We took the opportunity to return for dinner on our second evening and ended up having a long conversation with the owner about life, children, the cost of living, and how few visitors to the island actually stay in the town itself. Like most of the men in the area, her husband is a taxi driver. Funnily enough, when he’s working elsewhere in Bali, he often picks up jobs through Grab. The irony was not lost on any of us.

Rock, Sand, and an Excess of Blue

With time slightly against us, we decided to walk to the Blue Lagoon instead of heading on to White Sands. Tucked just beyond the working sprawl of Padang Bai, the Blue Lagoon reveals itself almost theatrically as you descend the path from the top of the hill: improbably blue water framed by rocky headlands, with a strip of fine, pale sand squeezed between them. This is not a grand beach. It is a small cove with a steeply shelving shoreline, where the waves break with a near guarantee of catching the unwary off guard. Groups arriving to take photographs tend to begin by carefully avoiding the water whilst getting it as a great backdrop. However, by the time they reach the end of the beach most are so wet they simply give up trying.

Once beyond the churn of the breakers, the sea is exceptionally clear, offering wonderful views of the fish below. It is probably fair to say, however, that our limited snorkelling skills, and equally limited swimming ability, meant much of this was beyond us. We briefly considered hiring life vests, but by then the moment had passed. We did, however, spot a turtle swimming the length of the beach in the shallows. We even took a couple of photographs as proof, sadly completely unusable, so people don’t assume we are poor old dears mistaking a plastic bag for marine life. Most of the day was spent relaxing on our sunbeds, watching a steady procession of snorkelling and scuba-diving boats enter the bay for short dives before moving on to their next spot. From what we observed, these trips are very much a morning activity. By the afternoon the boats were pitching up and down so much that it was probably a relief to abandon the roller-coaster ride and get into the water instead.

More Than a Place to Pass Through

I am fairly certain that if Padang Bai were in England, it would long ago have established itself as a popular seaside destination. It is undeniably picturesque, with a pleasing jumble of boats in the harbour, a backdrop of green hills, and several genuinely attractive beaches within easy reach. There is a hint of historical interest, a scattering of temples, and more than enough bars and restaurants to keep visitors well fed and watered. Yet, here in Bali, even the people who live in the town readily acknowledge that Padang Bai is largely seen as a place to pass through. For most visitors it is little more than the point at which the boat arrives or departs, a functional stop rather than a destination in its own right. The irony is that those who do stop, or who linger just a little longer than planned, are often pleasantly surprised.

For anyone interested in the sea, Padang Bai makes considerable sense as a base. There is good snorkelling straight from the beach and a wide range of dive sites nearby, making it particularly appealing to divers. The steady flow of dive boats passing through the bay is testament to this, even if many of their passengers never set foot properly in the town. Beyond that, there is the easy option of a short ferry ride out to the Gili Islands, or the ability to hop in a taxi and explore other parts of eastern Bali without difficulty, there are enough of them (“We’re your friends, we’re your friends….”).

Padang Bai may lack the polish or reputation of more famous coastal towns, but it more than compensates with an unpretentious, lived‑in charm. This is a place that feels practical rather than performative (there are very few souvenir stalls) and is shaped by everyday life rather than visitor expectations. For travellers willing to look beyond the harbour timetable, Padang Bai reveals itself as far more than a simple transport hub—an honest, engaging town that rewards those who take the time to stay.