Seeking the spirit of Zen at Four Seasons Bali Jimbaran Bay
Teresa Levonian Cole reviews the oasis of Jimbaran Bay near Kuta Selatan, where she discovers resplendent gardens, soothing treatments and her inner woodcarver
By the time I arrived at Jimbaran Bay, after a 19-hour, two-leg flight from England, I was not in the holiest of moods. All I wanted was to get to my room and slough off the residue of Emirates Airlines. So, when I was told that there was a priest waiting to perform a welcome Fire Purification Ritual, before the possibility of a shower, my mood turned a shade darker.
And yet..! There is nothing like arriving from cramped conditions to a place of light, space, and air; a place where the concept of infinity take concrete form. This is the open lobby of Four Seasons Jimbaran Bay – perched above lush tropical gardens, with a view to the sea.
From here, I was led down to an open space at the gates of the retreat’s temple, where five coloured torches were burning. Each one, priest Ajik Ngurah explained, represented a different organ of the body: white for the heart, red for the liver, yellow for kidneys, black for gall-bladder (yes, I resonated with that one!), and a multi-coloured candle for the ‘inner heart’.
A bowl of five different flowers, set before us, corresponded to each flame, and I was instructed to hold one between my finger-tips, palms closed in prayer, as I concentrated on each flame in turn, to the sound of Sanskrit chants. At the end of this ceremony, priest Ajik, whom I’d met on my previous visit five years earlier (he used to be a security guard, but sublimated physical muscle into spiritual strength), sprinkled me with holy water, by way of blessing. My aura, grey at the start of the ceremony, felt well and truly photoshopped to a cloudless, celestial blue. How many retreats, I asked myself, can boast of having their own, in-house priest?
“There is so much on offer you could spend a fortnight here without repeating the same treatment twice or – as I did – have just a couple of treatments while enjoying the less specific healing benefits of the retreat”
I returned to this beachfront resort hotel, already well-known for its fantastic treatments, to experience its new spa – set in a glorious building apart, all natural materials, textures and shadows, surrounded with calming water features. There is so much on offer you could spend a fortnight here without repeating the same treatment twice or – as I did – have just a couple of treatments while enjoying the less specific healing benefits of the retreat. And these started with my villa - one of 147 dotting this 14-hectare property – built in traditional Balinese style, of dark stone with lofty roofs of thatch.
Mine was a Premier Ocean Villa, spacious and clad entirely in dark teak leavened with soft furnishings in calming neutrals and bathed in a low glowing light – delightfully romantic, but a challenge for anyone over 30 hoping to read a book. My space was enclosed within stone walls, with a small garden and shrine, large deck with shala overlooking the ocean, and a generous pool (in which, risking electrocution on one sleepless night, I went for a swim during a thunderstorm). Cleverly angled in order not to be overlooked, and surrounded by palm and frangipani trees, it was a sanctuary in itself.
A team of 83 gardeners toil to tend the riot of colour and heady floral perfume that place the grounds among my favourite features of this retreat. I loved to get up early, and make my way to the Taman Wantilan breakfast restaurant, when this sensory experience is at its peak: the low, cool light of dawn shining directly onto a bank of bougainvillea creating the most impossibly refulgent pinks and oranges against the cobalt ocean. And, while I dithered over a selection of mouth-watering pan-Asian breakfasts and cured fish set up on two large stations, feathered creatures twittered and fluttered past. (‘What is that bird?’ became the leitmotif of my trip – I never did find out). Breakfasts, on this terrace, are heaven – and that’s without even mentioning the bakery, a beckoning Lucifer, where freshly-made this-and-that, patisseries and ice-creams, exist to test one’s resolve. So what if a chocolate croissant is not part of your health regime? It is food for the soul!
To the spa, and a fabulous treatment – a combination of massage, stretching, and acupressure courtesy of Anna, who untangled my knotted cat’s cradle of muscles with the help of oil of clove, fennel, vetiver and ginger. Followed by more ginger, turmeric, lime and honey – this time, imbibed, and delicious. Back-ache was, temporarily, dispelled.
Simple is often best. By way of contrast, I also experienced the cutting-edge Illumine Room, its virtues backed by ‘science’, for ‘an ethereal sensory immersion’. I hated it. From the bed of heated quartz crystals, that felt like lying on a gritty beach through a flimsy towel, to the flashing, coloured, artificial lights and – worst of all – the ‘sound bath’. The pained harmonics they emitted set my teeth on edge and re-set my aura to grey. But I confess to being in the minority: many people rave about this 2-hour treatment.
Back in natural light, I made my way to the beach. The shore immediately below the retreat is not accessible, but a two-minute walk takes you to the Sundara Beach Club on a stretch of beach – private, that is, a few yards back from the waterline – which is a great place to chill in the sun. It is also where my one-on-one Bakti Negara – an Indonesian martial art - class took place, with a visiting Master, Agung. They say laughter is the best therapy, and my lack of coordination and balance elicited plenty of that. At least my diaphragm got a work-out from laughing so much, while the (considerable) exertion required, after two nights without sleep, fired me with new reserves of energy.
Most of all, I enjoyed a private woodcarving class on the premises. Such contacts are where Four Seasons excels. A master carver, Wayan, arrived from Mas (a village dedicated to woodcarving, which I subsequently visited) bringing with him a 14-inch Buddha head he was making out of crocodile wood, for an American client. It was exquisite. He explained the techniques involved, then gave me (another!) carving to work on, using a sharp knife.
Eventually, to my surprise, he asked if I would like to work on his Buddha. No, not to refine the nose – but to help smooth the back of the head, in preparation for carving the pea-sized ngutil – the Buddha’s curls. I must have been doing OK, as he left me to it and went to the loo. For my part, I loved it! I was so absorbed that I did not notice the blisters forming on my right hand, from gripping the implement; nor that my allotted one-hour session had somehow expanded into a third hour. This state of intense, unforced focus is, for me, the best therapy of all.
I had earned a Negroni (smoked, table-side, in a Heath-Robinson contraption) and Sundara, back at the beach, is the best place for this: a convivial spot, where people gather to watch the sunset around a blazing fire pit. Thence, it was dinner at my favourite of the four restaurants on site– the small, intimate Jala, which serves Indonesian dishes to die for. Such delights as whole baked snapper in banana leaves with house spices and morning glory, grilled jumbo tiger prawns with ginger and shallot with steamed young papaya were in the feast served up, alongside classics such as satay with chili, coriander and peanut sauce. Impossible not to over-indulge. Again.
As I waddled back to my villa, I could see pinpricks of light coming from secluded spots nestling above the ocean, where discreet tables had been set up for honeymooners en tête-à-tête. In the limbo dance of life, the bar for their new journey has been set pretty high.
