Recharging the soul by the sacred Ayung River at Four Seasons Bali at Sayan
Teresa Levonian Cole reviews the sanctuary at Sayan near Ubud and finds sumptuous treatments, her inner Queen of Sheba and nature at her most dramatic
Beautiful, spiritual Bali, on everyone’s wish list. Yet, as soon as you venture out and are faced with hordes of backpackers queuing to take outlandish selfies on temple steps, you could be forgiven for wishing you had never left the sanctuary of your retreat. And this is where Four Seasons Sayan comes in: it’s a microcosm of all that is best on the island – without the crowds.
I had been before and was returning to experience that deep sense of peace and calm that comes with being in the heart of nature, in a hotel that blends seamlessly into its surroundings, and where the architecture is integral to the sense of wellbeing that is fostered here.
The conceit of descending from a liquid rooftop is repeated at my riverfront villa, styled in a clever interplay of Javanese stone, teak, leather, and mother-of-pearl, a backlit carving here, an antique batik textile there. I opened the wooden screens to let in the sounds of birdsong and the rushing Ayung River, and smells that I can only describe as freshly minted green.
No wonder people come here simply to retreat from the world. Overlooked by no-one, I enjoyed total privacy as I decompressed on my terrace, where I could happily have sat for three days, allowing my phone to register ‘0 steps taken’. The depth of those greens…
“In an orange, open-top vintage VW, I explored a local village, unknown to tourists, was blessed by a priest in a water temple, and was privileged to visit the family home of a blacksmith, where the intricacies of temple and residential feng shui were explained to me”
It was time to eat and I ordered a simple but delicious lunch: mushroom risotto and salmon. A sattvic menu (as in ayurvedic diet) is also available but – oh joy! - there is nothing prescriptive here, and a glass of wine soon appeared.
After lunch, I made my way to the Sacred River Spa for the first of my treatments: a 90-minute bespoke Codage facial. One of these villas, Cendana, also has its own pool, suspended within a lily pond. I asked for the music and aircon to be turned off and opened the sliding windows to be serenaded by the frogs, while my therapist slathered vegan serums and creams rich in active ingredients onto my face, and together we achieved the doubly impossible: I fell asleep, and emerged with a glowing complexion.
My days quickly fell into a pattern. Breakfast (ranging from deliciously inventive ‘traditional’ dishes - I particularly enjoyed the Dragon Smoothie of chia seeds, almond milk, spirulina and dragon fruit - to Asian flavours) would be followed by some kind of off-site, tailor-made activity, organised by the retreat, with treatments taking place in the afternoons.
For me, immersion in a country’s culture and her natural environment is intrinsic to any transformative experience. And Bali’s complex spiritual system – a syncretic blend of Hinduism, Chinese Buddhism and animism – permeates every aspect of cultural life. Temples not only abound in every village, but every home – consisting of multiple generations - contains its own temple, whose orientation, placement of shrines, and rituals, are strictly defined.
In an orange, open-top vintage VW, I explored a local village, unknown to tourists, was blessed by a priest in a water temple, and was privileged to visit the family home of a blacksmith, where the intricacies of temple and residential feng shui were explained to me.
Much more intense was my experience of a water purification ceremony at the home of the youngest-ever ordained High Priestess on Bali, Ida Resi (then 36), who exudes an air of calm, wisdom and dignity. First, I had to change into a sarong and sash (the latter, worn to prevent our animal nature from rising to contaminate our spiritual purity). Then I stood before her as she perched above me, alongside a water tank. She instructed me to breathe deeply through my nose and exhale loudly through my mouth, as she poured a continuous shower of water infused with flowers and oils over my head, chanting all the while. I gasped at the cold and struggled with the physical challenge of breathing while assaulted by so much water.
I’m not sure how long it lasted – 10, 15 minutes? I was encouraged to shout, cry, let out my emotions. And although I had heard stories of people breaking down and being reborn after a dousing ritual with Ida Resi, this was not my experience. I am ashamed to say I was more concerned about the odds of contracting typhoid. But Ida Resi herself left a deep impression on me. There is no doubting her authority and authenticity.
When not on a spiritual quest, it was back to nature, and lighter pursuits: learning about the life of a rice farmer and techniques of rice farming, at the hotel; and rafting with a private guide/instructor, along the Ayung River – the perfect way to enjoy this beautiful countryside. And such physical exertions were rewarded with an afternoon session in the spa.
My favourite treatment was the two-hour, top-to-toe, inside-outside muladhara (root) chakra Ceremony (it was decided I needed grounding). The treatment begins with tapping, to rid you of any negative thoughts and emotions (outer limbs) and instil positive ones (inner limbs), before progressing to a kemenyan ceremony: a kind of internal fumigation, whereby I sat, like the Queen of Sheba, on a seatless chair above billows of fragrant, purifying frankincense. After this, horizontal at last, singing bowls (resonating at 432Hz – Nature’s healing frequency) lulled me deeper into quiescence, in readiness for a strong, slow massage with oil of locally grown ginger and cinnamon, blended with patchouli and vetivert. For those who, like me, have a nose for musky perfumes, it was heaven. I felt as though my aura had been buffed from leaden grey to shining gold.
Later, a soft rain released all manner of unsuspected perfumes from the earth, delighting the frogs. It often rains hereabouts, and nowhere is it a more sensuous experience. I sat under cover on my terrace and listened to the rain and the swelling river, as the shower turned into a thunderstorm. Nature at her most dramatic, and me, sitting snugly watching the show. It doesn’t get much better than this.
