Exploring the great city of Kerala

Story and Photography by Andrea McVeigh

It was always my childhood dream to have a treehouse.  It seemed like the perfect hideaway from parents, responsibilities and real life, a place where I could play games and make friends with the animals (I was heavily influenced by Dr. Dolittle). The toys and Dr. Dolittle fantasies have long gone, and I never did get that treehouse, but decades later in the southwest of India, in the state of Kerala, nestled on the tropical Malabar Coast, my dream did come true for one night at least.

In travel, as with real estate, it’s all about location, location, location, and Kerala’s positioning on India’s West Coast, bordering the Arabian Sea, with the Western Ghats mountain range to the east, is one of the reasons why the state of Kerala is so popular with tourists.

A one-hour drive up a mountain, passing nine hold-on-to-the-edge-of-your-seat hairpin bends, is the Vythiri Resort situated on the slope of a forested hill in Wayanad, northern Kerala, beneath the enormous canopy of a lush tropical rainforest. In addition to its luxurious glass-floored villas with private swimming pools, Vythiri is home to not just one, but five, treehouses, all in the middle of the rainforest and adjacent to the resort.
Surprisingly spacious, the most luxurious of the five comes with its own Jacuzzi bath, bathroom and double bed, the usual things you’d find in a hotel, except there are also two thick tree branches rising up from the floor through the roof. And that’s where my travel partner and I stayed for the night. After dinner, we were advised to pack an overnight bag before a guide escorted us up the reassuringly substantial staircase to our bamboo-walled dwelling, 75 feet above the forest floor, on top of a sturdy 250-year-old banyan tree.

Sitting on our treehouse terrace listening to the sounds of nature, we soaked up this taste of rustic luxury. With no TV, radio nor Wi-Fi, we settled back in our balcony chairs as the sun set and the distant sparkle of a thousand planets and stars lit up the midnight-blue sky.

Another side to India

Think of India and, for some people, “Delhi belly,” overcrowding and poverty spring to mind. But step away from the major cities, and there’s a wonderful world of color, hospitality and beautiful, diverse scenery.

The scenery in Kerala alone ranges from palm tree-lined beaches along the Arabian Sea to dense interior rainforest, mountain tea, coffee and spice plantations and inland backwaters with their network of canals. Wildlife sanctuaries also draw visitors, as do boutique hotels offering programs of Ayurveda treatments to balance both body and soul. They may not be the sort of whale-music-and-scented-candles sort of spa treatments you’re used to, but it’s fine. Sitting on a stool in one of Vythiri’s spa rooms, naked except for a paper thong, I knew that what the spa, and many like it, lacked in frills, it made up for in authenticity. Kerala is one of the best places to enjoy Ayurvedic treatments in India. This traditional Hindu practice takes a holistic approach to well-being, believing in balancing the body and mind through herbal treatments, diet and breathing.

My tour took me from Kerala’s northern end to the busy tourist city of Kochi, a bit more than halfway down the state, staying in hotels along the route for just a couple of nights before moving on. We traveled by chauffeur-driven car, usually provided by the next hotel along the route.The better hotels will often arrange transfers for guests because driving on unfamiliar roads in a foreign country isn’t always recommended, and some of the hotels are particularly out of the way.

Kerala is a great “entry level” destination if you’ve never been to India. There is poverty, of course, and in a country numbering 1.3 billion people with a still functioning caste system, that’s no surprise, but Kerala is a prosperous state. Outside of the big cities, women and men still wear traditional dress. The women looking beautiful in colorful saris, the men repeatedly tying and retying their lungi, the rectangular cloth that covers them from waist to knee.

Northern Kerala isn’t much different from the South in terms of weather (there are two rainy monsoon seasons, in June and from mid-October to mid-November), but it’s where you’ll find more of the plantations and hill stations (high altitude towns favored by the colonialists as a place to escape the summer heat). An eight-hour, 248-mile drive from Vythiri is touristy Kochi. (You’ll also see it called Cochin, the British colonial name that is still used by many locals and often used interchangeably.) By either name, it’s a seaport city of modern shopping malls and international hotel chains and the industrial and commercial capital of Kerala.

The fort-less Fort Kochi

Standing in the lobby of the Kochi’s Spice Fort heritage boutique hotel, I’m telling Sujith, the hotel’s affable frontman, about all the things I like about the hotel and this part of town. I like the large courtyard swimming pool and the fact its water is so naturally warm in October that it’s like swimming in a pleasant bath. I tell him I love Saffron, the hotel’s organic restaurant and the importance placed on local, seasonal produce, and I particularly love the masala dosa (a type of crisp pancake made from fermented batter and filled with spicy potato and onions), but he might have guessed that already because I had three for lunch.

I told him I liked the location in the historic district – known as Fort Kochi – with its outdoor market stalls, where haggling is the norm, and near the famous giant Chinese fishing nets. The nets are known as Chinese and not Indian because they are thought to have been introduced in the 14th century by Chinese traders. These days they’re mostly for tourist appeal because they’re too close to the shore to catch many fish. A popular ruse is to invite tourists to use a pulley system to pull up the nets, then demand money before you’re allowed off the dock.

I was intrigued by the history of the 140-year-old building that is now home to the 27-room hotel, each room named after a spice in honor of Kochi’s centuries-long position at the center of the Indian spice trade.  Nearby is the Paradesi Synagogue, a 400-year-old synagogue that is now a tourist attraction.

There’s just one thing that’s bothering me. I’ve been exploring all  day, I’m hot, sticky and sweaty in the humidity and 86-degree heat, and I still can’t find the fort.
“Ah,” says Sujith, “Fort Kochi has everything. Except a fort.”

There was once a Portuguese fort here, but it’s long gone. Many different cultures and colonialists called Kochi home over the years, the Portuguese, the Dutch and, more recently, the British. Each one left a mark in street names and architecture, cuisine and attractions such as St. Francis church, opened in 1516, and reportedly the first European-built church in the whole of India. Colonialism only ended when India gained independence in 1947.

These days the invaders are hippie travelers, foodies, women like me and you. Seekers of some of the best holistic spa treatments and soakers-up of the local colors, sights, smells and tastes. There’s a reason why Kerala is also known throughout the world as God’s Own Country.  Who even needs a fort?

www.vythiriresort.com
www.duneecogroup.com

We all welcome 2017 with open arms. It’s time to renew our zest for life and travel. Here are five predictions from our editor-in-chief.

Crazy for Cruises

2016 was a stressful year. There was too much politics and too few random acts of kindness. Lots of folks want to completely unplug, and for many travelers, the ocean is the answer – but not just a beachside hotel! On a cruise you can do as little or as much as you want. Simply knowing that you are miles away from land can do wonders for the soul.

Bucket List Buzz

A decade ago, no one talked about “bucket lists,” but now it seems everyone’s transferring their wanderlust to a list – and globetrotting grandparents want to get in on the act too! Boomers and Millennials are helping their parents make travel dreams come true with multi-generational adventures. Travel can be the ultimate form of family bonding.

Will Travel for Food

More than ever, we’re letting our stomachs choose our destinations. Culinary schools are popping up all over the place and even tried-and-true foodie meccas, such as New Orleans and New York, are ramping up their game with intriguing specialty tours and tourism campaigns focused on pleasing the palate. Travelers are planning weekend getaways that revolve around securing a highly desired reservation at the latest “it” restaurant.

Europe: Always in Fashion

Our love affair with Europe is eternal! Domestic travel has been in the spotlight for some time, but heading into 2017, passport use will be on the rise, as travelers push aside economic concerns and seek the opportunity to experience the joie de vivre found only in Europe. Seasoned travelers are booking trips to their favorite European capitals and will be reminded why they fell in love with the continent in the first place.

Say Yes to Yoga

Whether it’s plank, cobra pose or downward dog, yoga – especially in an exotic locale – is commanding our attention. Women and men are seeking solace in structured programs that also leave time for personal reflection. When your sun salutation happens at sunrise with a stunning view of a glistening lake or magnificent mountain range, you’ll undoubtedly leave with a refreshed outlook on life. Find your inner goddess and take on the world, travelgirl!

3 RESORTS WHERE FANTASY IS REALITY

We were skidding across the turquoise sea like a water bug. Ten minutes before, we had boarded the boat from Taveuni, a Fijian island that’s so small you need a magnifying glass to find it on the map. A van had materialized at the tiny airfield where our amusement park-sized plane had landed and transported us down a bumpy dirt road, under a tunnel of palms and past a village of thatch-roofed huts to a small clearing where a motorboat sat waiting. It was our ride to Qamea Island, another miniscule isle, this one so small you couldn’t find it on a map with the Hubble Space Telescope.

We were on Day 1 of a week’s journey around Fiji, bound for three of its swankest and most authentic beach resorts, two located on far-flung islands in the northeastern and northwestern regions of the archipelago, and one nestled on the “Adventure Coast” of Viti Levu, Fiji’s largest isle and home to the city of Nadi and the country’s international airport.

We huddled against the searing sun under a small makeshift canvas awning, the boat skipping across phosphorescent waves shimmering every shade of sapphire. “Land!” someone shouted. A shapeless mound on the horizon had finally revealed itself as a tiny, mountainous isle ringed by blinding-white sands. The driver cut the engine, and as we drifted into shore on the waves, the line of villagers on shore began singing Fiji’s official “Welcome Song.”

A few words about Fiji

Fiji is the poster child for tropical paradise, with more than 330 isles, only a third inhabited. Many of them are blessed with startling airbrushed beaches and lush, fantasia-like mountains, where waterfalls thunder from jungled heights and tropical flowers glow from the gloom of the fern-upholstered rainforests: purple and pink hibiscus, ivory Lady of the Night, Red Firecracker Fern, to name a few.

Yet despite its wild beauty, Fiji had never been on my bucket list: As a Peace Corps volunteer in the Caribbean, I’d seen too many native fishing villages bulldozed, too many villagers displaced so some faceless foreign developer could built another luxury resort. If this was happening in Fiji, I didn’t want to see it.

Fortunately, it wasn’t, and here’s why: The indigenous Fijians, who make up more than half of Fiji’s population and many of whom still live in villages, own more than 80 percent of the country’s land, and this land can never be bought or sold. If someone wants to build a resort on native land, they must get permission from the village and then lease the land from it.

This is a happy fact of life for tourists seeking an authentic Fijian experience: At the three resorts we visited, nearly all the staff were from nearby villages and everything — from the 
entertainment to the spa treatments — was 100 percent Fijian.

Many indigenous Fijians choose to live a simple and communal lifestyle, one that has been handed down from one generation to the next. In the villages we visited, they lived in thatch-roofed huts with dirt floors and kerosene lamps, and they washed their clothing in the river.

Although their lifestyle struck us as rustic, they seemed so happy — joyful, even — that it gave us pause. The Fijians were also the friendliest people I had ever met: Even though we were just passing through, they greeted us with a heart-felt “Bula!” every time they saw us.

Settling into Qamea Resort And Spa

My beachfront bure had a tiny living room with wicker furnishings, a king bed made up in soft linens, a spacious bathroom with a heated towel rack, and  an outdoor rain shower outfitted with fragrant coconut toiletries called “Pure Fiji.” If this stuff could give me the long, silken tresses of the Fijian women, I’d use it for life!

Just a few steps beyond my red “do-not-disturb” coconut there was crystal clear snorkeling off the beach, awesome diving, wind surfing, catamaran sailing, guided kayaking through thick mangroves into neighboring villages, beachfront yoga and a short sarong-tying demo that could have saved me hours dressing for dinner had I chosen to attend. But it had been a long day’s journey to get here and all I really want to do was chill.
A massage was in order, so I walked over a kissing bridge and into a rainforest to the beautiful little spa. My masseuse said she did it all, so I took her hands — they were warm and strong — and said “go for it.” Her traditional Fijian Bobo massage was so rigorous it left bruises but dissolved every known knot in my bod. She followed it with a traditional Fijian hibiscus and coconut body wrap that turned my skin into butter — even the calluses on my elbows and knees had vanished.

From the spa, I walked to the swank indoor-outdoor restaurant for afternoon tea, then headed back to my bure and collapsed in my hammock, hoping to see the green flash as the sun dipped in to the sea. I woke at dusk to the sound of a conch horn announcing dinner.

We dove into a California-meets-Fiji feast with tomato and tamarind soup, king prawn salad, seared tuna with pickled cucumber and Asian greens and for dessert, a dreamy French baked chocolate tart with salted caramels and cream. Then we watched the villagers perform a Meke Ceremony in which they use traditional singing and dancing to pass on stories and legends from one generation to another. Near the end of the performance, they invited us to join them. I spent the next hour dancing barefoot under the stars. Back in my bure, I witnessed a miracle: My cracked, callused feet had been polished smooth by the sand!

The next morning, we breakfasted on fresh tropical fruits, omelets and fresh-baked pastries and then piled back into the motorboat to go back to Taveuni (“The Garden Isle”) and Bouma National Heritage Park. Our guide led us along a trail that climbed deep into the rainforest and up, up, up to two crashing waterfalls, the last one accessed by a steep ladder trail. We were so hot and tired we didn’t wait for an invitation to plunge into the crystal pool and stand under the cascade’s pounding spray. www.qamea.com

On to Yasawa Island Resort & Spa

From Qamea, it was a half-day’s journey by boat, van and small plane to Nadi and on to Yasawa in the resort’s tiny private plane. As the isle came into view, the pilot descended in earnest, landing on an air strip as steep as a black-diamond ski slope.

We cranked open the plane doors to golden hills and sunbaked air — Qamea’s tropical greens and high humidity a distant memory. The villagers approached us with leis and chilled coconuts with straws and then we piled into a van for the short drive along dusty dirt roads to the resort.As we stepped into an open-air lobby flooded with sunlight, we were once again welcomed with a song.

There were 18 wood bungalows — villas, really, sprinkled along the spanking white beach. I found a spacious living room, bedroom and bath, two outdoor decks and my own private beach where a palm-shaded cabana and daybed faced the waves.

That night, the villagers performed a traditional Meke, after which we settled into a table by the ocean and feasted on fresh grilled snapper, shrimp and crab, grilled corn, salads and homemade cake and ice cream. I swore I’d never eat again, but at breakfast the next morning I managed to devour a big stack of homemade banana pancakes, a fruit and yogurt parfait and several cups of strong Fijian espresso.

After breakfast, we set off across the sparkling sea by motorboat, finally pulling in to the tiny isle of Sawa-I-Lau Caves. This is the one featured in the 1980 Hollywood dream-teen movie Blue Lagoon starring Brooke Shields. The villagers had set up a shell market on the beach, and I agonized over which shell bracelet to buy before climbing an outdoor staircase into the cave. It was dark, and the water was cold, but I dove in and swam across the pool to the guide.

When he told me to hold my breath, dive under the water and swim toward the light, I almost laughed. It sounded like dying. I did as told, and a few scary seconds later emerged in a smaller cavern, and I wondered if Brooke Shields had been as nervous as we were.
Back on the boat, we motored to tiny Yawini Island, one of 11 private beaches owned by the resort (honeymooners often get dropped off for the day) for a lobster picnic lunch with champagne, followed by more snorkeling and relaxing.

At the resort, I walked to the adorable seaside spa for a massage, took a nap on my daybed and then followed the beach to dinner as the sunset blazed pink orange and purple. As we tucked into another feast of fresh grilled fish, it was easy to seehow this place had come to be called Yasawa, which is Fijian for “heaven.” www.yasawa.com

On to Nanuku Auberge Resort

Back on the main island of Viti Levu, we drove along “The Adventure Coast,” famous for its shark diving as well as wine dinners and culinary safaris, which are popular with foodies. Our last stop was the spectacular Nanuku Auberge Resort Fiji, overlooking sacred Beqa Island, home of Fijian fire walking.

This trip had already spoiled us rotten, but Nanuku took it to a whole new level: My luxurious bure had a romantic poster bed with wrap-around mosquito netting, a private plunge pool and hot tub and a personal “buddy.” Pela offered to help me unpack and before I could protest, she had drawn me a bubble bath, wondered if I needed anything ironed or laundered, and could she fetch me a cup of tea and homemade cookies from the kitchen?

The next morning, I slept through 6 a.m. kayaking, 7 a.m. paddle boarding, 8 a.m. beach yoga and just about made it to Sunday breakfast in time to hear the village choir belting out beautiful hymns. The resort’s Kanavata Restaurant is famous for its gourmet twist on farm-to-table cuisine, and my buttermilk pancakes layered with lady fingers, bananas, cinnamon and vanilla bean pod ice cream drizzled with Fijian honey certainly fit the bill.
After breakfast, we boated over to Beqa, hiking a steep trail up through impenetrable jungle to the top and wondering if we had just imagined that mystical unseen presence following us. Back at the resort, I took a paddle boarding lesson and all that falling and failing to get up gave me a huge appetite for the homemade soups and fresh salads at lunch.

We spent the afternoon on a guided kayaking tour through the lush tunnels and tranquil waters of mangrove forests along the Deuba River, en route passing by mud lobsters, herons, harrier hawks, kingfishers, fruit bats and other denizens of the river.

Dinner that night was a gala event beginning with a Torch Lighting Ceremony on the beach and a traditional Kava Ceremony, during which the men of the village stood in a circle singing and chanting while a few of their ranks crushed the roots of kava kava (a native shrub) into a large bowl and added water.

The resulting dark liquid was poured in cups and passed around. I took a teensy sip (it tasted just like mud) lest I ruin my appetite for dinner. The multi-course bacchanalia included tuna sushi with wasabi, tempura eggplant, crisp, slow-cooked pork belly, pan-fried fillet of snapper and coconut cream brulee for dessert. It was the most decadently delicious meal I have ever had, hold the kava. www.nanuku.aubergeresorts.com

5 Things To Do Right Now!

1. UPDATE YOUR LUGGAGE TAGS: Whether you check bags or carry-on, make sure every piece of your luggage is wearing a high-quality tag bearing the correct identification information. Business cards from two jobs ago or outdated phone numbers won’t help if your belongings get separated from you. January is the perfect time to update your tags (purchase new ones if necessary!) — and while you’re at it, label your electronics, eyeglass/sunglass cases, and any other valuables that are constant travel companions. Use mailing address labels (add your phone number) or tape a current business card where needed.

2. DO A TOILETRY KIT CHECKUP: Disinfectant wipes, makeup remover, dental floss, vitamins, travel-size toothpaste – is it all in there and ready to go? We’ll remind you to do this again in a few months, but make time now to give your essential carry-on a once over. Remove any loose receipts, expired items and anything else that shouldn’t be there. You might find those earrings or cufflinks you’ve been looking for!

3. BUY A NEW BAG: It’s never a good idea to bring damaged baggage into a fresh calendar year. If your favorite rollaboard has seen its last journey, say farewell and give yourself a post-holiday present. Don’t feel guilty — if you travel for work, this is not a splurge!

4. TAKE TIME FOR TAXES: When travel and work go hand-in-hand, it makes a difference at tax time. Before we get too far into the New Year, spend a morning or afternoon organizing what you’ll need in April. With 2016 still fresh on your mind, write down any travel-related expenses or incidents that may need special attention from your CPA.

5. PLAN A GETAWAY: All too soon our agendas will be overflowing with obligations, so plan a weekend of fun to add to the mix. Call a friend or favorite relative to get in on the planning. Tis the season for flash sales, so look online or call your favorite resort to see what deals the New Year holds.

It’s the name that immediately comes to mind when you think of the romantic ending of Eat, Pray, Love. The lush, languid island of Bali lingers, embedded in our imaginations from Elizabeth Gilbert’s best-selling book and the movie starring Julia Roberts.

As much as Bali is known for its romantic resorts, sandy beaches and luscious green landscapes, it is also known for its fascinating women. In Bali it is particularly easy to chat with the local women about their lives, and their joie de vivre and happy attitudes are contagious. Whenever I become disillusioned with the crowded beaches and tourists sights, I take a hike and meander through villages looking for the opportunity to strike up a conversation with another woman.

On a recent trip to Bali I wasn’t looking for love, or a lover, like the woman in Eat, Pray, Love. I was looking for insight into the intricate culture from a female perspective. What would I learn about myself by seeing the world through their eyes?

Women Appease the Spirits

A Balinese mother and I walked together one morning outside her village in the highlands. She was balancing on her head a three-tiered basket filled with flowers, fruit and a roasted chicken. She had perfect balance and I wondered if I could carry such a large load on my head for any amount of time. I don’t think the balance poses I do in yoga class would allow me to be as graceful as she was. She was also perfectly content with the heavy load. We struck up a conversation and I learned why.

I promised myself that I would be more like Wayan. I’d slow down and enjoy the process of offering thanks.

Wayan, a slight but strong and graceful middle-aged mother, told me she had two children, like me, but unlike me, she doesn’t live in a home with her immediate family. She described the large compound where she lived with her husband, children and extended family, including grandparents, aunts and uncles. There is no strife, she explained. Her 18 family members live in harmony, cooking for the clan, watching each other’s children and caring for aging relatives. I was invited into the family compound and met the grandparents, cousins and siblings. It was obvious that everyone got along and helped each other.

I concluded that Wayan would find it lonely to switch lives with me and live in a home with just one other adult and only two children — a home that is empty most of the day — unlike her family compound, which pulsates with the comings and goings of everyone: caring for the chickens, tending to the family altars and preparing meals. And I also wondered what it would be like to live with my extended family. I doubt it would be as harmonious.

As we walked a dirt path together, Wayan explained the significance of the offerings she carried on her head. The women of each family, from grandma down to the teens, are tasked with making regular offerings to shrines within the compound and take offerings to nearby temples. Every day they weave tiny banana leaf containers, no larger than an iPhone, for offerings of rice, coffee, hibiscus or orange flower petals and an incense stick. Before each meal, women take this exquisite array of food and flowers to their shrines. She confided that she was happy to make offerings to show the family’s gratitude and to soothe the household spirits. I thought about the peace and gratitude I feel when I make offerings and prayers to a greater spirit. Travel teaches us to open our eyes, to see other ways of life and to learn more about ourselves. I promised myself that I would be more like Wayan. I’d slow down and enjoy the process of offering thanks.

As we parted, Wayan urged me to attend a cremation. Women, she went on to explain, also take care of the spirits of the dead. The Balinese don’t grieve as we know it. Weeks, sometimes months after a death, relatives throw a big bash culminating in a cremation. In Bali this is a festive and celebratory passage into the afterlife. If you want to see a big, dramatic party, join in the festivities of a cremation.

You have to be in the right place at the right time to see a cremation because the date and time depends upon the phase of the moon, position of the stars and the community priests. Often even the Balinese don’t know when a cremation will be staged until the last minute. I hoped to see a cremation but didn’t know how to go about it. I mean, do you just invite yourself to someone’s funeral?

Later, I was lounging by the pool of the Amanusa Resort in Nusa Dua when the manager casually asked me what I wanted to see in Bali and offered to help. He had no idea what a demanding request I would make. “I’d like to attend a cremation,” I told him. He smiled that knowing smile that told me I had asked for the impossible. However, I was staying at an Aman Resort, world-renowned for luxury and discrete service. The guest list reads like a “Who’s Who” of movie stars, royalty and business tycoons. I’d heard the staff could work miracles to please guests. Turns out, that was right. Two days later a car drove my traveling companions and me to a small village in the countryside near Ubud to join a joyful crowd of well-dressed family members and friends of the royal family. A mirage of ethereal women dressed in golden silk, shaded by pastel tasseled parasols, glided through the crowds with silver bowls and pyramids of fruit and flowers poised on their heads. It was cremation day and a percussion orchestra set the tone with energetic, syncopated music as men carried the body to the cemetery for burning inside an ornate three-story high tower, balanced on a bamboo platform.

Balinese women labored for weeks preparing the food and offerings for this ceremony and it went up in smoke in an instant. Well, I thought, that’s not so different from women preparing for Thanksgiving dinner, which is also an offering to family and friends, and also disappears quickly.

Women and the Dance Tradition

One afternoon, I stumbled upon a dozen young schoolgirls changing from crisp blue uniforms into elaborate silk and ikat costumes in the opulent gardens of the Amandari Resort, in Ubud. What do kids do after school in Bali? These girls walked from the nearby village to take dance lessons. They helped each other apply make-up and style their hair. Like typical pre-teens, they giggled and gossiped as they prepared for the class. Their teacher invited me to take photographs and join them for an evening performance in the lobby. The kids gather for free after-school dance and music lessons, made available to the children of the Amandari employees.

Women and young girls are the predominant dancers in the Legong, perhaps the most beautiful dance in Bali. Dancing begins at a very young age, three to six years old, often passed on by a mother or an aunt. The teacher explained that children are eager to train but many do not have the discipline or dedication to continue for years when they discover the intensity and difficulty of the hand motions. A Legong dancer must master detailed precision in each minutely choreographed movement from her eyeballs to her fingers to her toes. Each tiny movement has meaning in the dance drama of ancient Hindu stories.

A Legong dancer must master detailed precision in each minutely choreographed movement from her eyeballs to her fingers to her toes.

As an orange sun slipped behind the palm trees by the infinity pool, hotel guests and families from the neighboring village turned out to watch the six- to eleven-year-old girls. The Legong dance, and in fact, all performances and festivals in Bali, revolve around the community. Brothers, sisters, parents, aunts, uncles and grandparents watched with pride. Although the local crowd may have understood the ancient Hindu love story much better than us visitors, we were equally enchanted by the melodic magic of the music and the graceful young dancers.

My Search for a Balinese Healer

Most visitors to Bali spend blissful hours being massaged, scrubbed, perfumed and perhaps even healed by female masseuses in hotel spas, on the beach or in local homes. The quality of the massage depends upon the place, price and training of the masseuse. I discovered you can take it to the next level if you find one of the authentic spiritually charged female healers who have inherited their power from an elderly healer in the family. Traditional healers, I was told, balance the inner and outer worlds — in other words, they create a total fix for the mind, body and spirit. I made it my mission to find a female healer.

One of the benefits of staying at an exclusive, small property is extraordinary service. Again, I asked for help from the Aman Resorts’ managers who have lived for years in the area and have local knowledge that you won’t find in a guidebook. At the Amankila resort in Eastern Bali and several days later at the Amanjiva Resort in Java, the managers painstakingly contacted local healers in nearby villages and transported them to the tranquil haven of my villa’s tropical garden. In Java I asked for yet another favor: a translator to help me speak to the village healer after the session.
Diriyah, a short, wiry 74-year-old widow, entered the garden balancing a heavy massage table and a pot of hot herbal tea. Energy, like static electricity, radiated from her tiny body. Her body language and posture indicated that she was used to being respected and in control.

A Perfect State of Bliss

As I relaxed on the massage table, she blew several soft breaths across the crown of my head and chanted quietly. Slowly her powerful thumbs and the palm of her hands explored the soles of my feet to diagnose my physical and mental health. Then she concentrated her intense touch on the core of my body, opening energy channels, stretching and increasing blood circulation. My body melted, my mind went blank, and I slipped into a hypnotic state of calm.

After the healing session we talked through the interpreter. I learned that Diriyah has been healing people in her village for 42 years, from pregnant women to arthritic elders, as well as those suffering from heartbreak and emotional distress. She hasn’t identified anyone in her family who has inherited her magic touch yet, although she has six children, 19 grandchildren, and an eight-year-old great grandchild. I was once again awed by the strength of the women of Bali.

Whether you eat, pray or love, attend a cremation, join a woman in her daily offerings, meet dancers, or find a healer — sampling the Balinese state of bliss will inspire you to return home looking at your own life with different eyes.

For more than three decades I have explored Bali and sampled all styles of guesthouses and resorts. Accommodations on the island run the gamut from a very economical $20 a night bed in a local home or guesthouse to the very exclusive and memorable private villas at $2,000 a night (including, of course, a plunge pool, garden and valet). Many well-heeled global travelers return to Bali year after year to unplug and be pampered at quiet properties.

I keep clicking my fingers and hoping for magic to transport me back to Bali.

Bali and Java 411

When to Go: The weather is always warm. Located just north of the equator, Bali and Java sit in the exotic reaches of the Indonesian archipelago just eight degrees south of the equator, northwest of Australia.  Indonesia has a tropical climate, meaning warm and humid in the summer months. The cooler dry season is April to October. Average temperatures range from 78 to 82 degrees.

What to Pack: A bathing suit, shorts, sundresses, T-shirts that cover your shoulders and capris for visiting temples, sandals and a wrap for air-conditioned restaurants. Tourists in Bali dress casually.  If you plan to do serious shopping (and it’s hard not to!) bring an extra bag.

Where to Stay: The Aman Resorts offer exquisite service and accommodations in locations across the country. For something truly unique, Andrew Harper’s Hideaway Report Reader Survey ranked the Amankila, a secluded cliff-side property in East Bali, among the top 20 beach resorts in the world. Do they sound out-of-this-world expensive? That is part of their appeal. However, five Aman Resorts, including the Amanwana Nature Reserve on Moyo Island,  can now be combined in a seven-night experience for around $800 a night. www.amanresorts.com