The best of Bali

My body has been back from my Bali yoga retreat for a week and a half now, but my spirit is still very much there, sitting on my terrace in a bathrobe, drinking the hotel’s special ginger tea and waiting for the woman from the spa to come get me for my afternoon treatment.

A week and a half later, my part of my mind refuses to believe that no one will gently ring a bell outside my door to wake me up; that the toughest decision of the day will not be which color tank top to wear with my black yoga pants; and that the loudest noise I’ll hear today will be neither the rooster next door nor the laughter of my retreat-mates. (Either of which would be a much-welcomed respite from the constant drilling outside my window.)

And so, to come to terms with the fact that, yes, my idyllic vacation is officially over, I offer you some highlights, which are also illustrated by this set of photos. (And this one, though these were taken by others.)

The hotel itself. It’s a magical place, designed and built by the second prince of Ubud. It’s a place of winding paths through lush gardens. Statues of gods and demons are everywhere – as are offerings of flowers, candles and burning incense sticks. It’s made even more striking by the staff’s attention to details. Everyone greets me by name. When I return to my room after the morning yoga class, the bed is made and the curtains open. After dinner, the curtains are closed and a candle burning. Someone always comes along to turn out the outside lights after I go to bed. There is always fruit available, along with coffee and the hotel’s special ginger tea. You never have to think about anything yourself. It’s impossible to hold onto your outside life, making it that much easier to relax.

Participating in a purification ritual at Tirta Empul, a sacred spring pool. During the day, the place is crowded with tourists, but at night, it was just a handful of locals, a few stray dogs and us. It didn’t matter that I had no idea what the priest was saying or that I had never before been to a Hindu ceremony. It was a soothing, welcoming place, and I left feeling better than I had when I arrived.

Spending a day in silence. Napping, journaling, painting a bit, but not communicating with anyone beyond a smile and a nod.

Doing sun salutations as the sun rises over Mt. Batur, an active volcano, then breaking the silence of the day before at a lively communal breakfast.

Feeling the wind in my face as I race downhill on a bicycle, trying to avoid the chickens and dogs that run across the road. Stopping for a tour of a traditional Balinese village or two, waving to children who ran to the roadside to greet us, and coming upon a town preparing for a mass cremation ceremony.

Wandering through the rice fields, then having lunch at a local organic restaurant. The meal started with fantastic grilled vegetables and baba ghanoush and ended with fried bananas drizzled with coconut sugar, but the true highlight for me was a ginger-mint drink. Light and cool and completely refreshing.

Drinking my first true Javanese coffee.

The best massage of my life: After two and a half hours and a whole liter of oil, sitting and staring at the rice fields while the masseuse washes my feet and legs with flowers. Need I say more?

Sitting around the dining room table during a blackout, drinking Black Russians and laughing so hard my cheeks hurt.

Doing my first unassisted shoulder stand.

Watching a traditional dance class in Ubud.

Writing down the things about my life that bother me on slips of paper, burning them, and sending them down the river with a handful of flowers.

And finally, a Hong Kong highlight: The afterglow. On my first day back in the office, a mere 24 hours after leaving Bali, a coworker looked at me, cocked his head, and said, “You’re glowing.”

I seem to get less caught up in the frantic pace of the city these days. Even in the midst of rush hour, with taxis honking and people yelling into their cellphones, I manage to find a stillness. That alone would have made the retreat worth it.