stats Making the Business of Life Easier

   Finance globeinvestor   Careers globecareers.workopolis Subscribe to The Globe
The Globe and Mail /
Home | Business | National | Int'l | Sports | Columnists | The Arts | Tech | Travel | TV | Wheels


  This site         Tips

  The Web Google


  Where to Find It

Breaking News
  Home Page

  Report on Business



Subscribe to The Globe

Shop at our Globe Store

Print Edition
  Front Page

  Report on Business




  Arts & Entertainment



   Headline Index

 Other Sections

  Births & Deaths






  Facts & Arguments




  Real Estate









  Food & Dining




  Online Personals

  TV Listings/News

 Specials & Series
  All Reports...


   Where to Find It
 A quick guide to what's available on the site



  Customer Service

  Help & Contact Us



 Web Site

  E-Mail Newsletters

  Free Headlines

  Globe Store New

  Help & Contact Us

  Make Us Home

  Mobile New

  Press Room

  Privacy Policy

  Terms & Conditions


The great escape
Indulging a long-standing fantasy, Catherine Dawson March ditches her workaday responsibilities and embraces the thrilling chaos of Bali

Email this article Print this article
Saturday, April 14, 2018 – Page P14

Every now and then, I indulge in a fantasy, usually about escaping the drudgery of day to day for the exhilaration of moment to moment. It may not be an original fantasy, but what is unusual is that I acted on it.

Leaving behind the responsibilities of work, wife and mother to teens (whose fault-seeking scorn wears one out faster than any toddler drama) became doable when one of my girlfriends was just as ready to disappear.

The Indonesian island of Bali stars in a lot of escape fantasies. Its mystique - a potent swirl of white sand and cerulean sea, laid-back locals and strong cultural heritage - is tempting. But we aren't interested in Bali's infamous tourist spots. We'll bypass the commercial party zones of Kuta, Seminyak and Legian in the wild and crazy south. Instead, we seek remote resorts on the outskirts: the new Hoshinoya Bali near the island's spiritual centre of Ubud and the powdery black-sand beaches by the newly renovated Soori Bali, near Tabanan on the central-western coast. (Bali's active volcano forced the closing of the international airport there for two days in late 2017, but Mount Agung is calming down. The threat level has dropped and tourism amenities on almost all of the island are open for business.)

We find paradise, but we also come across tourist traps, garbage-strewn streams and crowded beaches. Bali, we discover, can be as maddening as it is overpoweringly beautiful.

Perhaps that's always been part of the attraction. Despite its remoteness, it has drawn Western artists and intellectuals with a taste for the exotic since the late 1920s, Robert Pringle writes in A Short History of Bali: Margaret Mead, Noel Coward, Charlie Chaplin, even Canadian musicologist Colin McPhee, the first Westerner to study the country's music. This "expatriate intelligentsia" gave Bali, Pringle wrote, "a global reputation as a place of extraordinary cultural value."


Elizabeth Gilbert's book and the 2010 film Eat, Pray, Love have not done Ubud any favours. Tourists flock to this mountain town looking for spiritual serenity, but its takes some time to find it among streets clogged with motorbikes, cars and Western-branded shops. What was once a quiet agricultural town known for its healers is now thronged with tourists, street hawkers and local touts. The Ubud Royal Palace is overrun with outsiders more intent on the perfect selfie than learning anything about the shrines and architecture. You find a little quiet along the Campuhan ridge walk or wandering the Lotus Temple with is pretty ponds walled off from the noise.

But Martha and I find our peace at Hoshinoya Bali, a 20-minute drive from Ubud's main drag. The luxury Japanese brand - known for its ryokan hotels - blends Japanese sleek with Balinese tradition. The Bali outpost recently earned a place on Travel + Leisure magazine's 2018 list of best new hotels in the world.

It's the middle of the night when we finally arrive, but several staff greet us with deep bows and big smiles. We step through an intricately carved stone arch and into a quiet calm. Waves of music - softer than a harp, more percussive than a pan flute - come from two musicians bent over what look like bamboo xylophones. These gamelan players produce a rolling hum of harmonics that lull the senses.

On the way to our villa, we pass others (there are 30 in total) arranged in quiet alleys that mimic a Balinese family compound. In the morning, we'll see that Hoshinoya Bali is perched on the rain-forested gorge of the sacred Pakerisan River and discover ancient shrines and monuments throughout the property.

After 24-hours of travel, Martha and I sink into Japanesestyle beds that sit on a low, raised platform. A wall-length Balinese wood carving is a masterpiece of delicate work.

Jet-lagged, we're up before daybreak and open the French doors to our villa's upper patio with its enormous daybed. I zone out here while listening to a Buddhist morning chant drift over from our neighbour's villa. As the sun rises and the light improves, I see that my perch overlooks a long, slender pool and that each villa has its own private pool deck, with an overhead fan and more lounge beds. The chestdeep water is as cold as a Canadian lake.

But you do your laps anyway. In this heat, you call it refreshing.

The beauty of being near Ubud, but not in Ubud, means it doesn't take our tour guide (booked through the hotel) long to show us the real Bali. We're passing through neighbourhoods where tourists never go and every time we exclaim about some new sight, he stops to let us get closer - to the eye-popping green of rice fields; the ingenuity of terraced rice fields in Tegalalang; children running barefoot with a homemade kites. On it goes as we weave along two-lane roads skinnier than most Canadian driveways.

Martha and I ask about Balinese Hinduism, so Yande takes us home to meet his family and see their shrine. Spirits, or gods, influence everything here. He shows us how spirits and ancestors are cajoled with daily offerings (hence the home temple) and that Balinese people work to keep a balance between gods and demons. Yande also talks about how Balinese view time: What's important isn't the calendar or the clock, but the type of day or time. Is it an auspicious time or an unlucky day to perform a task?

On the way back to Hoshinoya, Yande is careful to swerve around piles of rice drying on the edge of the road. Motorbike drivers fend for themselves (many are adolescents, even women holding small children with one hand and steering with the other): Almost no one wears a helmet. The bikes always seem to dodge just in time, but the blithe disregard for safety is jarring - though maybe understandable given they believe the gods influence everything.

If a true escape is a break from our own societal norms, we picked the right place.

There are more cultural lessons back at the resort. Hoshinoya Bali offers several daily classes or tours for free. One afternoon, half a dozen guests sit under a traditional thatched roof bale as a local woman shows us how to make an offering to the gods. We start by weaving our own bananaleaf boxes, then placing specific items and colours in specific corners. To finish, she helps us tie on sarongs to ensure we are properly attired to place our offerings at the base of a hotel's temple. I say a silent word of thanks for getting Martha and I here safely, and pray my family is coping well without me. But there must have been something wrong with my offering. Later, when my phone rings with a call from home, I start describing my adventures only to be stopped by the main reason for their call: "Mom, Dad wants to know where you left the ant powder!?" I think about that call on our last morning, while sipping tea in Hoshinoya Bali's most stunning feature - lounge beds suspended over the lush valley. It's like hanging out in the treehouse you never had as a kid. The breeze carries a deliciously sweet scent of champak flowers and humus-y forest floor. I breathe in deeply, pull out my phone - and slip it into airplane mode.


One of the first social-media brags guests make at Soori Bali is posted from the open lobby: The area is a soaring, impressive stage for the ocean view. Staff members, accustomed to the stunned reaction, simply steer guests to the wide couches so they can sit and soak it all in with a chilled cocktail and an even chillier, tightly rolled white towel. Consider the towel a chance to cleanse yourself of the outside world before stepping into architect Soo K. Chan's version of paradise.

Chan, founder of Singapore based SCDA Architects, and his wife, Ling Fu, designed Soori as a vacation home, blending its stellar location with proper feng shui. Eventually, the property expanded from private retreat to resort refuge.

Perched between waving rice fields with views of Batukaru, an extinct volcano, and the pounding surf of the Indian Ocean, there is no dull view from any of Soori Bali's 48 villas. It's this dazzling colour combination of black sand, white surf and radiant green rice fields that mesmerizes guests.

Chan relaunched the hotel in 2017 when he took the management reigns back from Alila Bali. He took it in a new direction, focusing on health and well-being, offering a range of holistic treatments at the spa, yoga and qigong sessions, tea ceremonies and more. The hotel grounds are used as practice and performance areas by the local gamelan orchestra and dance group. As a guest, you will stumble across both often and it's enchanting.

With the refocus successfully under way, touch-ups to the villas continue. The wallsized glass doors of our ocean-facing villa also open onto a burbling plunge pool. A teak pool deck with an enormous lounge bed covered in oversized pillows is a great spot to watch the sun set over the surf. The soft spongy spots of decking that need replacing are not so lovely, but flip flops solve that problem quickly enough, and this area is our go-to spot every day. Amazingly, no lounge chairs or umbrellas mar the beach view: The sand is black as tar, soft as icing sugar and packed down enough that biking along the sand is easily done. As dusk approaches, villagers turn out to enjoy the ocean, too. And look for the bat cave near the end of the beach: We learned of it one night to our horror and delight while dining on one of Soori's restaurant patios.

Soori employs most of the residents of the village next door and we borrow bikes one morning to explore it. We stop to take more photos than is actually necessary of religious statuary (so grotesque and adorable at the same time) and guzzle Teh Botol (jasmine iced tea). Our ride brings us closer to the locals but also to local problems, such as a few litter-plugged streams and a beach strewn with plastic flotsam. It is an an unvarnished look behind the tourist brochures.

A free guided tour offered by the hotel also takes us on a walk along the rice fields during harvest. A longer, customized tour the next morning takes us farther afield and gives us more time to explore temples, including one of Bali's most picturesque (and, therefore, most busy and commercialized): the fisherman's seaside temple, Tanah Lot. Lunch that day is cooked by our driver's wife and served away from Tanah Lot's commercial bustle: seasoned beef and rice with sambal, or hot sauce, wrapped ingeniously in a banana leaf. Still, stumbling into the tourist masses Bali is infamous for was a shock. For some visitors, this is the only "real Bali" they see. Time to get back to Soori's sanctuary.

That night I take a good look at the flowers left on our pillows daily: frangipani cupped by a palm leaf and secured with a sliver of bamboo. They are like little, readymade offerings. Just before our ride to the airport, I take a detour onto that soft, black sand one last time.

I place my offerings in the surf and whispered a prayer of my own. Sure, I am hoping it is an auspicious day for our long flight home, but I am also praying that Bali remains a fantasy-fulfilling paradise, a place to indulge the senses and restore the soul, for years to come.

Accommodation was complimentary; the writer received a business-class upgrade from Cathay Pacific. Neither the airline nor the resorts reviewed or approved this story.

Associated Graphic

The view from Soori Bali resort in Tabanan, top. Hoshinoya Bali resort's entrance, above, embraces traditional Balinese design.


Huh? How did I get here?
Return to Main Murray_Campbell Page
Subscribe to
The Globe and Mail

Email this article Print this article

space  Advertisement

Need CPR for your RSP? Check your portfolio’s pulse and lower yours by improving the overall health of your investments. Click here.


7-Day Site Search

Breaking News

Today's Weather


Rick Salutin
Merrily marching
off to war
Roy MacGregor
Duct tape might hold
when panic strikes

Where Manley is going with his first budget



For a columnist's most recent stories, click on their name below.


Roy MacGregor arrow
This Country
Jeffrey Simpson arrow
The Nation
Margaret Wente arrow
Hugh Winsor  arrow
The Power Game

Rob Carrick arrow
Personal Finance
Drew Fagan arrow
The Big Picture
Mathew Ingram arrow
Brent Jang arrow
Business West
Brian Milner arrow
Taking Stock
Eric Reguly arrow
To The Point
Andrew Willis arrow

Stephen Brunt arrow
The Game
Eric Duhatschek arrow
Allan Maki arrow
William Houston arrow
Truth & Rumours
Lorne Rubenstein arrow
 The Arts

John Doyle arrow
John MacLachlan Gray arrow
Gray's Anatomy
David Macfarlane arrow
Cheap Seats
Johanna Schneller arrow

Murray Campbell arrow
Ontario Politics
Lysiane Gagnon arrow
Inside Quebec
Marcus Gee arrow
The World
William Johnson arrow
Pit Bill
Paul Knox arrow
Heather Mallick arrow
As If
Leah McLaren arrow
Generation Why
Rex Murphy arrow
Japes of Wrath
Rick Salutin arrow
On The Other Hand
Paul Sullivan arrow
The West
William Thorsell arrow

Home | Business | National | Int'l | Sports | Columnists | The Arts | Tech | Travel | TV | Wheels

© 2003 Bell Globemedia Interactive Inc. All Rights Reserved.
Help & Contact Us | Back to the top of this page