The temple's history spans at least two major periods of construction. In the 10th century, the Javanese Hindu sage Mpu Kuturan is credited with establishing the original shrine and introducing the Tri Kahyangan system, which classified Balinese temples into three categories: village temples, mountain temples, and sea temples. Uluwatu was designated a sea temple, or pura segara, charged with protecting the island from negative spiritual forces arriving from the ocean. Six centuries later, another priest transformed the site. Dang Hyang Nirartha, a Javanese Brahmin who arrived in Bali during the 16th century, expanded the temple and added the padmasana shrines that remain central to its ritual function today. Nirartha was one of the most influential figures in Balinese Hinduism, founding several major temples across the island. According to tradition, he achieved moksha, spiritual liberation, at this very cliff, dissolving into divine light above the waves. The temple holds his memory as both historical fact and sacred event.

Uluwatu occupies a singular position in Balinese cosmology. It is the only sea temple that is also one of the nine directional temples, the Pura Kahyangan Jagat, sometimes called Pura Kahyangan Padma Bhuwana. These nine temples are considered the spiritual pillars of Bali, positioned at cardinal and intercardinal points around the island to form a protective mandala. Most of the nine are mountain temples. Uluwatu alone holds its position from the coast, guarding the southwest. It is dedicated to Sang Hyang Widhi Wasa, the supreme god of Balinese Hinduism, in his manifestation as Rudra, the deity associated with storms, wind, and the destructive forces of nature. The dedication fits the location. Standing at the cliff's edge, watching waves crash against the limestone far below, the concept of a deity governing nature's raw power feels less abstract than it might in a quieter setting.

Every evening at six o'clock, the cliff-side amphitheater at Uluwatu fills with visitors for a Kecak dance performance. The dance, based on episodes from the Ramayana, uses no musical instruments. Instead, a circle of fifty or more bare-chested men provides the accompaniment, chanting "cak-cak-cak" in interlocking rhythmic patterns that build from a murmur to a roar. The performers sway and thrust their arms in synchronized waves while dancers at the center enact the story of Prince Rama's rescue of his wife Sita from the demon king Ravana. As the performance unfolds, the sun drops into the Indian Ocean behind the stage, painting the sky in bands of orange and crimson. The timing is not coincidental. The Kecak was developed in its modern form during the 1930s, partly through the creative involvement of Walter Spies, the German artist who also influenced the collections of Museum Pasifika nearby. At Uluwatu, the dance and the landscape merge into a single experience that draws hundreds of spectators every day of the year.

Visitors to Uluwatu quickly learn the temple's unofficial rule: the long-tailed macaques own the place. Troops of these gray-furred monkeys patrol the temple grounds, the parking areas, and the cliff-side paths with the confidence of creatures who have lived here for generations and know exactly what tourists carry. Sunglasses, hats, phones, sandals, water bottles, anything removable is fair game. The macaques are not merely opportunistic. Researchers have documented what appears to be deliberate bartering behavior: a monkey snatches an item, retreats to a safe perch, and waits for a temple attendant to offer food in exchange for the stolen goods. The more valuable the item appears, the longer the monkey holds out. Signs throughout the complex warn visitors to secure their belongings, and temple staff carry bags of peanuts for ransom negotiations. It is a system that works for everyone involved, except perhaps the tourist who watches a macaque sprint up a banyan tree with a pair of prescription sunglasses.