I had an unexpected encounter last week with the Luxe Hotel Sunset, the new hotel in tony Bel-Air, in Los Angeles. And to pay homage to the awesome Signature 360º Package, here’s a 360 word blog post!  A little fantasy to take you away from work and into a daydream:

Whether you call Los Angeles or Louisville home, it can get stressful. Sure, you had New Year’s resolutions, now long forgotten in the daily shuffle of office, appointments, and, well… life.  While it will be nice to whisk yourself off on our Eat Pray Love Bali tour in April, you’d like to do something sooner… closer.

The Luxe Sunset Hotel is a retreat from your hectic, everyday life, a surprisingly spiritual oasis in the heart of LA.  They picked you up in a Town Car from LAX, so the relaxation started before you walked into the understated, elegant lobby.  Now you feel a further downshift into comfort and tranquility.  The desk clerk is knowledgeable, smiling as she upgrades your room. The personable bartender makes you a drink he invented… Strawberry Fields, a tall glass with vodka, strawberry-ginger syrup, and fresh berries. As you sip, you relax to the sounds of the live jazz guitarists.

At the restaurant, dinner is delightful — fresh and delicious.  You sit at a table under the night sky, pampered by the waiters and the heater that takes the edge off the last of LA’s winter.  Afterwards, the 360º package means there’s a bottle of Shiraz waiting for you in your room.

Oversized and plush makes for a cozy combination, and this space is designed as a retreat from your regular life.  The marble bathroom has clean, zen-like lines, with a soaking tub and a separate shower, and cushy towels and a spa robe wait to envelop you.  The bed has the greatest mattress, the thread-count on the sheets makes you want to sleep in, and there’s a proper European duvet, along with plenty of pillows for reading or watching TV. The room is spacious enough for your yoga routine.  (The iPad2 proffered during your stay tempts you to sit at the desk and book a reservation for the Getty Museum, right down the road).

The next morning, enjoy a complimentary American breakfast, then relax by the pool, soaking in the California sunshine.  The best part? With a two-night minimum, you get to stay another day! Okay, now you can wait until April for Bali…

We’ve been doing our Eat Pray Love Bali tour for almost 3 years now, and over time, we’ve changed it up a bit, based on feedback and our own experiences. Here’s what we’re doing on our September (and probably future) tours!

Our Welcome Dinner in “Italy” has moved to Ubud! Though we had some incredible experiences and wonderful meals at the Amanusa’s Italian Restaurant, Bali traffic can be truly unbelievable.  We’ve moved the welcome dinner to the more accessible  Terazo Restaurant in Ubud, where we’re working with the executive chef to prepare a custom meal with Italian wines – of course, on the Eat Pray Love Bali tour we will end with Tirami su for dessert, unless your taste runs more to local sorbets. Passion fruit, anyone?

Next, we’re trying something new with our hotel.  Honestly, we really looked hard at the Ubud Inn, where book author Elizabeth Gilbert stayed when she was writing about Bali.  Despite stunning grounds, we were just underwhelmed with the rooms, and didn’t love the location.  It’s in very busy Monkey Forest Road, set too close to the street.  We wanted something more tranquil, even in the heart of Ubud’s bustle.  The Pertiwi Resort & Spa seemed like a great spot for our Eat Pray Love Bali tour, and it’s located a little further along Monkey Forest Road,.  However, we may also return on future trips to our beloved Alila Hotel – the staff and the food and the environment are really incomparable!

Another big shift is in the temples we’ve chosen.  We teach our guests how to pray like the Balinese, and show them what to wear and how to wear it so that we can enter the inner sanctuary of each temple, and be blessed by the local Pedanda, or priest (who is sometimes a woman, which I just love!) On every other Eat Pray Love Bali tour, we’ve gone to Besakih Temple — called the Mother Temple, it’s nestled at the base of Mount Agung, about a 3 hour ride from Ubud. So this trip, we decided instead to visit our very favorite temple, Tirta Empul. It’s a delightful day trip (about a 2-hour drive) to the pool where all the sacred waters in Bali are gathered for the local temples.

Tirta Empul is an incredible experience, and we are often the only non-Balinese woshippers!   We’ve even witnessed a Balinese exorcism here. We can go into the streams and be cleansed during our Eat Pray Love Bali tour, under each of the 13 rushing fountains – an amazing experience of bliss.

Of course, we’ve still got the visit to Ketut Liyer, to Wayan the healer, to a pizza restaurant that will make you think you’re eating your Margarita ‘za in Napoli, yoga and meditation to make you feel like you’re in India (for an hour at least!) and even spa treatments at the very spot where the film crew for Eat Pray Love got all their massages.  It will be another incredible tour – I hope you can join us!

The evening didn’t even kick off until 8pm, giving us a chance to lie down after a long day visiting the temples at Karnak & Luxor, an easy 5-10 minute ride from the hotel.  Dress was semi-formal to formal, and our group of 40 wore either suits and cocktail dresses or galabeyas they had purchased in Luxor or Cairo.  Everyone looked very festive.  Though it is a Muslim country, a nod to the needs of the hotel guests gave us a champagne cocktail hour (well, half hour, really) by the pool.  After that, drinks were available for purchase – I think the cheapest bottle of champagne went for something like $200, though beer and wine were somewhat more reasonable.

The guests drifted into a huge tent set up along the back of the pool, with the total number of people somewhere around 500 at any given time.  Normally, the space is an oversized deck overlooking the Nile, but tonight we couldn’t see the river once inside the tent. Small price to pay once we got to the buffet, though.  The sheer poetry of the food sculptures was impressive enough. Have you ever seen a giant standing fish made entirely of cream cheese, garnished with veggies for fins and face?  And a mermaid, and a pelican? I thought not! Looking at the vast array of food, from the variety of layered pates and savory pastries to the selection of fish, meat, and side dishes, and the desserts (more on them later!) I was struck by the trouble everyone had gone to, by the beauty of the preparations and execution – there were at least 50 kitchen staff on hand, and I suspect many more in the kitchen making sure there was enough of everything for everybody.   

I filled my little plate with giant shrimp, stuffed squid, veal in a savory sauce, and went back at least a couple times to try the variety of pâté en croûte.  The dessert table, which was about 12 feet long, didn’t disappoint, either, with a huge range of everything from petits fours to baklava, chocolate mousse, cheesecake, and that new staple of Egyptian sweets, Spanish flan.  In keeping with the sculpture theme, one dessert featured a piano made entirely from milk chocolate, and the pièce de résistance was the 4 foot long replica of the Luxor Temple, fashioned from gingerbread.

Once the buffet line died down, and everyone got into the important business of eating, the music went live.  This was around the time we noticed the stack of giant speakers, far too close to our table.  Sadly, the first set was an incredible disappointment – two gorgeous girls in skimpy short dresses, wailing away into the microphone on such chestnuts as Volare and La Bamba.  Worst of all, and I really wanted to like them, the lead couldn’t sing and her friend could only do harmonies badly off-key.  We wondered whose girlfriends, or sisters, had been hired.  Who could have owed them a favor this big?  Collectively, we wanted to run screaming from the tent, but luckily we “know people.” Within 10 minutes, the whole stack of speakers near us had been first turned to the wall, and then when that didn’t do the trick, mysteriously disconnected.  Our pals from Quest Travel winked at us and thanked the banquet manager, who shook his head at the unfortunate problem and informed us that there was no engineer who could be spared to “fix the electrics” that night.  Luckily, the girls’ set only lasted another half an hour, and the sound was now far enough from us to be manageable.

The Shrieking Siren Sisters were followed by Egyptian dancers, who wore traditional costumes that looked vaguely Greek or Turkish to me, and then a voluptuous belly dancer.  A young man in our group, only about 22, looked at her and exclaimed, “Boy, she’s fat!” I pulled him aside and gently explained that in many other countries, women are allowed to eat and still considered beautiful.  To be fair, the dancer was curvy, but like most women in Egypt, her rounded belly was considered a great asset.  Judging from the response to her act, many of the men in the room were very happy with her “fat”!  Her performance grew into several others belly dancing, the group eventually flowing from the stage down into the audience where they morphed into a fairly large Conga line that many in our group happily joined.

By this time, we had discovered the party favors, all in gold bags left by our chairs.  In addition to butterfly masks in silver or red, we had various noisemakers and streamers.  But by far the most popular favor was a small baggie of colored papers formed into tight balls.  We couldn’t figure out what they were for at first, but it quickly became clear: why, to throw at your neighbors, of course!  And to be made sport of in return.  We got to know the people at the next table all too well as we lobbed the premade colorful spitballs back and forth at one another, and the men – I mean GROWN men in their 30′s, 40′s and 50′s – quickly reverted to 6 year-olds.

At 11:30pm, I noticed that the dance floor was empty, so I decided Julie the Cruise Director should make arrangements for the most festive of midnights.  I amassed our troops, which despite some atrophy as the magic hour drew closer, still stood at 25 or more.  A few were reluctant, my darling Greg the most vocal among them, but peer pressure is a powerful thing.  At 11:45pm, we all hit the dance floor at once, even Greg, dragged out there by several of the men in our group for solidarity.  Glad for the company, others began to flood onto the floor, and by 11:55pm, the joint was jumping, with an intrepid young man in our group on the stage performing (I swear) several back flips, much to the excitement of the several of the young ladies.  

So it was that at 12pm midnight, still vaguely jet-lagged, the love of my life reached across a crowded dance floor to plant the first kiss of the new year on me.  Since he doesn’t dance and he hates crowds, I took it at a sign that this would be a year of change.  For sure, Luxor lived up to its promise of a great New Year’s Eve party. By 1am, now thoroughly exhausted, we dragged ourselves upstairs to sleep. Yeah, the price tag was well worth it.

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From Chapter III – All the Firsts

In the fall of 1997, Greg came to me.  We were working about a hundred hours a week – each – on a project, and we were exhausted.  He told me about this trip to Egypt he wanted to take, which included a Nile cruise.  At the time I couldn’t have cared less about Egypt, but the idea of cruising the Nile for two weeks sounded so much better than sleeping in the office that I agreed.  The following May, we took the first of what was to become an annual pilgrimage.

Egypt is an incredible place, and though so much has been written about it no one exaggerated.  It’s an amazing dichotomy, too, of the ancient coupled with the not-so-old.  Nothing in Egypt is new, really; they are about 20 years behind America, just like any third world country.  This, coupled with a thick layer of sand, dust and dirt, keeps many things looking much older than they are.  We have always found the people there friendly to the point where we call them family when we see them again.  They will tell you to your face – they love Americans, they hate our President.  But they don’t even seem to blame us for voting for him… twice. 

The first time I saw Cairo, I thought, “God, what have we done?”  The flight was just circling to land, and all we could see was these buildings, many of them looking no better than huts, all drowning in the desert.  And smog so thick I was afraid I wouldn’t be able to breathe once we landed.  Not much of an improvement, since in those days they still allowed smoking in the back of international flights.  As if the canned air in the back of the plane wasn’t toxic to those in the front.  At least once we landed we would be out in the open.

The Cairo airport did nothing to improve my first impression.  Now it’s been remodeled, with lots of shopping added, and vast halls of marble and carved stone, but ten years ago it looked as dilapidated as the airport in Bulgaria, a leftover relic from the Soviet Bloc.  We stood in a sprawling group, waiting for all our luggage to arrive and be identified

I had never traveled with a group before, despite extensive trips all over Europe since I was very small.  With everyone sleeping on the flight, no one had really met yet, and now, after over 16 hours of travel, everyone was too tired to socialize.  But we noticed a blond woman with hair down to her waist, traveling alone, and I went over to introduce myself, drawn to her somehow despite my exhaustion.  Lynn and Greg and I have been best friends ever since, the trip solidifying our initial connection to each other.  Honestly, I don’t know how groups can help but bond with each other, with everyone exhausted, wearing the same rumpled clothes for over two days and all smelling of unwashed teeth and armpits.  It’s bond, or kill each other.  Perhaps this is how early humans survived.

Eventually, after passport control and a 45 minute ride to the hotel, we all collapsed in our rooms.  They told us the Giza pyramids were right outside our windows, but by this time, it was too dark to see.  They would just have to wait until morning.

The next day, I awoke in cool smooth Egyptian cotton sheets, heavy drapes covering the windows.  I was not sure it was morning, but the balcony of our room beckoned, and I rolled out of bed to see our view.  The green rolling gardens were a surprise, as was the blue water of the vast pool not too far down the lawn.  As my happy eye swept up, I finally saw what all the fuss was about – the Pyramids and the famed Giza Plateau seemed like they were only across the street. 

 These triangles of stone are inexplicable.  From the outside, even from a distance, they seem so much more romantic than their simple shapes would warrant.  The view from our window, like much of the Mena House, features the Great Pyramid itself, the largest of the three structures that make up the pyramid complex.  Even over a mile away as the crow flies, you can tell it’s a big sucker.

We were staying, as we always do, at the Mena House hotel, legendary as the best hotel in all of Cairo.  A former hunting palace, the armistice which ended World War II was signed in what is now its main building.  It has a vaguely Moroccan theme, which suits the over-the-top décor in the main lobby, all glass chandeliers and gilt mirrors.  My favorite part of the hotel has always been the pictures from the late 19^th or early 20^th century, which feature the couple who owned the hotel, their guests, and the many servants, horses and camels who must have made up the bulk of any establishment’s staff in those days.  There is one picture of the lady, setting off on her afternoon ride, sidesaddle, with a full skirt and a Gibson hairdo.  A little black boy waits beside her, in full uniform.  It might have been 100 degrees that day, but there she goes, off into what can only be described as a fairly uncivilized heat.  Between the Egyptian and Indian climate, I think they must have built the English braver in those days,.

The main restaurant also overlooked the Great Pyramid – well, not so much overlooked as “sat right next to,” so the first day we were pretty overwhelmed by this iconic image we’d all read about, sort of looming about the breakfast table like the elephant in the room.  The pyramid was so tall, in fact, and we so close, that when you stood you couldn’t see the top, so it just seemed like a grayish wall.  Then you would sit down, and there would be this pyramid, having breakfast at your table with you. 

Many of the Egyptian hotel and restaurant staff people were trained in the way of French cuisine and service. So they do a wonderful job with food in Egypt, while there is none of the reputed French attitude (in France, a waiter almost kicked Greg out of a restaurant for ordering coffee, bread, cheese and fruit – at the same time, quelle horror!) The breakfast is sumptuous at the Mena House, and you can pick from made-to-order or a full buffet.  One of the first things I couldn’t wait to try was the local yoghurt with black honey – dark and treacly, it looked just like molasses, which was exactly what it turned out to be, only with a much more exotic name.  They do the whole silver tea and coffee service, and the waiters and the kitchen staff fawn on you.  I once sent my scrambled eggs to exchange for fried, and the chef himself came out with my plate to make sure I was happy with them.

My first Arabic words were “Chai, bi laban” (shay, bee lahbahn, with a break after the first word and the second and third ones all run together).  This means “tea with milk.”  My mother raised me to be polite, so the second thing I learned was “min fadlak” (min fud’luk), which means “please.” However, right after that I learned that you say “min fadlik” if it’s a woman, and “min fadlak” if it’s a man, and I got them mixed up.  So then I thought, “it’s ‘lick’ if it’s a woman, and ‘luck’ if it’s a man,” (Greg, trying to help, told me “Lucky men lick women”) and then I decided maybe I should stop trying to learn Arabic.

1. How safe is it?  Everyone ALWAYS wants to know this one.  The answer is, it’s incredibly safe, and if you’re traveling in one of our groups, it’s even more so!  Our groups are registered as VIPs when we enter the country, so we always have a special escort with us.  If you’re traveling with another group, check with them to see what their procedures are.

The simple statistical fact is that Egypt is a much safer place than the US or any country in Western Europe. Personal crime rates are much lower than in the west, and violent crime directed at tourists is unheard of –  Egypt thrives on tourism – I think it’s the 2nd largest national product these days – so they really don’t want anything happening to you. We ran some stats comparing death by violence in Egypt to those in Washington DC, and you are something like 75 times more likely to be killed while vacationing in our fair capitol.

By far the biggest threat you will face in Egypt is from clever friendly locals who are very adept at getting you to buy souvenirs.

2. What shots/medical preparation do I need?  In a word?  None.  Surprisingly to most people, nothing is required, or even recommended, and after watching hundreds of people vacation there, I don’t think those who went to the doctor stateside fared any better once the trip began.  The one thing you may come down with in Egypt is politely called “Pharoah’s Revenge”.  The bad news?  You probably won’t eat for a day.  The good news?  We were all eating like pigs prior to this, so perhaps it’s not so bad after all.  The thing that knocks out Pharoah’s Revenge is a regionally produced antibiotic – Antinol – which is Egypt’s answer to Cipro, and is available at every pharmacy for $1 a box.  DON’T drink local water, DO drink bottled water, avoid the skins of fresh vegetables, and you’ll be fine.  We do recommend travel insurance, though, in case you get sick before you leave, or something comes up on the trip (even lost luggage).  You can get great quotes through our friends at Squaremouth http://www.squaremouth.com/travel-insurance/index.pl?pid=20129

3. What should I wear? If you’re lucky enough to visit Egypt between November and February, pack a sweater.  You’ll need it – the desert gets chilly at night.  During the day, the temperature will be balmy and comfortable.  Any other time, pack like you’re going to Phoenix or Vegas in August.  It’s a dry heat  When you travel with Spirit Quest, we make sure to schedule most activities in the morning or evening, so you can siesta by the pool in the afternoon.  Plan to wear natural fabrics – cotton, silk, or linen are best bets.  Yes, you can wear sport clothes designed to wick the sweat off, but breathable fabrics are always my suggestion.  Bring sturdy walking shoes, ones you can get sand or dirt in, unless you plan to stay in your hotel the whole time. If you are lucky enough to take a Nile Cruise (we always include a 4 star cruise on our trips, because it’s a great way to see most of the country while only having to unpack once, and there’s nothing like sailing the Nile for relaxation) you can wear sporty, casual beach-style clothes.  Really dressy resort wear is hardly appropriate anywhere, and besides, once you’re there a few days you will likely buy a floor length caftan (both men and women) called a galabeya.  If you need something fancy, you can always put this on.  For the ladies, bathing suits are normal if there’s a pool where you’re going, but leave the string bikini/thong at home – it is a Muslim country, after all.  Last, if you are planning on visiting any mosques or certain parts of upper Egypt, ladies will need to plan on bringing something that comes at least to the elbow, and no shorts for men or women in those areas.  A note on shopping – it’s wonderful there, especially many outdoor markets where you can bargain, and everything is very cheap.  Many many of our guests end up bringing back an extra suitcase, and you can always pick one up for about $20 US.  

4.  What special things do I need to pack?  One of my favorite things in the world to bring to Egypt is an Evian Mister, an atomizer with a fine mist of Evian water.  You may be able to find it in your local drug store, or else click this link to buy it http://www.spiritquesttours.com/store.html 
Spray a little on your face or head, and your body temp will feel like it’s dropped 10 or 15 degrees.  Yes, you can use it with make-up, but trust me, if you go when it’s hot, you may want to leave your makeup at home, at least the foundation and mascara.  I’ve seen more women travel up the Nile with raccoon eyes because they weren’t willing to adapt – just a suggestion

Other items include your camera (duh, but you would be surprised how many people forget theirs; power adaptors (you need the kind that work in England, no matter what anyone else tells you!); sunblock – the highest SPF you can find, and try a baby sunblock, which usually is the highest, as well as the gentlest; extra batteries (nothing like standing a the Colossus of Memnon bargaining for batteries you could have bought for $3 at home); and oh!  Ladies, don’t forget tampons and pads – they’re available in the pharmacy, too – but only one kind of each, and that may or not be what you’re used to.

5. How do I communicate with home? Internet cafes are plentiful everywhere, especially Cairo, Luxor, and Alexandria.  If you have international calling on your phone, you should be able to use it – AT&T and Sprint both work internationally for sure, but make sure you have the international coverage.  A satellite phone is best if you are certain to need coverage in the middle of the country, like while cruising up the Nile, but for most people these days a cell phone is fine.  But these days cell coverage is extensive. We’ve made calls from the peak of Mount Moses in the Sinai!

Each of the 4 star hotels Spirit Quest Tours stays in offers wireless in all the rooms and internet at the business center.  Just remember there is a 7-10 hour time difference… and you’re on vacation!

6. Here’s a bonus, since you stuck it out to the end… the most important piece of advice I can give you is, learn a few words of Arabic before you go.  Thank you = shokran (show-krahn’); Good morning = saba al khir (sah-bah’ al – khear’); Tea with milk = chai bi laban (shay’ bee la-bahn’)  This means the world to the Egyptians, and they do love Americans.  You will find that even saying “thank you” in Arabic will bring a smile to everyone’s face.  It will make you more than just a traveler; it will allow you to be what you really are by traveling to this foreign country halfway around the world – an ambassador of peace. 

I am sitting in the stunning, airy bar of my gorgeous Balinese hotel and I am sweating… a lot.  I’ve just had a ten-minute walk, the slow, meandering kind, but it has still taken its toll in the sticky, humid weather.  There is a delicate balance here between freshly showered and breaking out in a full, glorious dancer’s sweat and I am hoping to find it.  Like the heroine of “Eat, Pray, Love”, I have come to Bali searching for balance. 

It’s a challenge, because I am not exactly here on vacation.  My partner Greg and I lead spiritual tours to sacred sites around the world, and Bali is high on many people’s lists. So we are working. Managing a group of 35 American travelers, to be exact.  This is not as hard as it sounds, if you take into consideration the group dynamic of “one mind.”  I never thought I would want to travel with a group until I first took a spiritual tour myself.  But when I did I understood the tremendous power of shared intention.

We are traveling in Bali for two weeks, visiting temples almost every day. The emphasis is on pilgrimage, yes, but also on poolgrimage, its sister, spagrimage, and their close cousin, shopgrimage.  At least the group is balanced.  Our little band of Americans is made up of some real sports.  They have bought their temple clothes – the sarong, sash, white shirt, and (for the men) headdress – indicating the devout intentions of a Balinese worshipper.  They go to the temples and learn how to pray like the Balinese Hindus.  They clasp their hands in Namaste (not unlike our good old-fashioned American “prayer hands”) and hold them up – first to their foreheads, for the gods, then to their hearts, for our human selves.  They wash their faces in incense smoke, toss flower petals in the air and tuck them behind their ears.  They eat uncooked grains of rice (to suppress base desires) and are doused with holy water by “Pamungku,” the Balinese priests who accept our offerings and lead us in prayer. For two weeks, they give their lives over to the search for something greater.

Of course it’s not all the earnest work of devotion.  We are staying at the Maya Ubud, and a more integrated balance between luxurious four star service and raw nature I cannot imagine.  The whole property is a lush tropical garden, set among the rice paddies of Ubud, itself the artistic heart of Bali. The lawns are well-manicured, but even the team of gardeners working seven days a week can barely hold back the jungle of local plants, huge trees, and bright colorful splashes of flowers.  The Maya has a deeply organic feel from the moment you approach the front entrance, a huge thatched roof covering the open space and pavilion, which is inspired by the design of traditional Balinese “bale” and family compounds.  A wooden walkway slices through flowing water to the lobby, where the soaring thatch ceiling is grounded by a circular glass floor at the center, lit from below and filled with objets d’antique from Bali’s ancient past. 

The staff welcomes you, with more than passable English; their enthusiasm for your comfort makes their meaning even clearer.  When my group arrives, our cooling welcome drink and room keys are accompanied by the spa brochures I requested.  The energy in the room is palpable as everyone chatters excitedly about the treatments, the design.  By the next morning, the spa is booked for three days solid by our happy assembly.

Greg and I are staying in a pool villa, one of 34 that stretch out in neat rows ringed by the ever-abundant plant life.  Walking to our room for the first time, I see five different types of butterfly.  When we slide open the teak doors to our room, we are transported into another level of beauty.  Here, too, the roof is thatched in the traditional Balinese fashion, the neat rows of dried grass clearly visible high overhead.  We have a 4-poster bed with filmy cotton mosquito netting draped charmingly on the bedposts.  Our bath is an oversized hammered aluminum affair with a view of the private garden. 

Outside, facing the bathroom, is a small plunge pool, filled to overflowing with cool clear water.  The sticky humidity has already taken its toll; as soon as the bags are delivered to our room, I strip off my clothes and take a bracing plunge into the pool.  There isn’t much room to swim, but it is enough. During our stay, I use the pool three or four times a day, looking up into the blue sky, enjoying the view of the Ti plants and verdant jungle that envelops me.  Once, I see a huge snail, bigger than my index finger, gliding up a three-foot leaf, his antennae waving cautiously as he explores what comes next.  I want to be that snail while I am here, concerned only with what is just in front of me, but tour leaders don’t get much vacation time.

Ensuring that all the guests are happy, well taken care of, and that their myriad questions are answered, leaves little time for personal pursuits.  But every morning, I do manage to find some time to myself. One day, I make my way over to the 7:30am yoga class, taught thoughtfully by a smiling Balinese man named Gina.  Despite being both fit and flexible, Gina is patient with those who have never done this before, or who cannot touch their toes.  He encourages balance, forward bends counteracted by backwards ones, the left side worked on exactly as much as the right.  It is just what I need to hear. Another morning I follow the signs that say “nature walk”, down the steep mossy steps to a stone Balinese bathing fountain, past a splashing waterfall, along the river which marks the edge of the Maya property.  I walk past plants whose leaves unfurl so large over my head that I could take shelter in a rainstorm.  I see geckos and lizards, blue birds with orange throats, red-winged dragonflies.  I feel so far away from my life back home, so blissfully surrounded by ways of life I usually don’t take time to see.

On the last day of our trip, we have given the group the whole day off.  We will gather in the evening for our spectacular farewell dinner (150 dancers and a four course Balinese meal) but today, Greg and I are going to the spa.  Having toured the place my first morning, visiting both the individual and couples suites, I have booked the newest couples suite, which faces the river, two stories down.  In addition to the two massage tables, it has a resting pavilion, a round aluminum bathtub big enough for both of us, private lockers, and outdoor side-by-side showers, all under the high thatched roof that I have come to think of as the Maya’s signature design.   This is where we will spend the next two hours.

While Greg gets foot reflexology, I begin with a Balinese massage.  It is similar to what I am used to in any massage, but the strokes are longer and the tiny girl never exerts too much or too little pressure, using only her hands.  Draping is observed, and I never feel like I am showing too much skin at any one time.  The sound of the river stands in for the usual spa music, and I am transported to a place of tranquil rest, the soft breeze occasionally wafting the smell of the jasmine oil the masseuse uses.  As Greg moves into a Balinese massage, I receive a ginger and tangerine body scrub (my other options included something that smelled decidedly like curry).  This is unlike any other scrub I have had – a powder is rubbed into each body part and then brushed off, taking the dead skin, but causing no discomfort.  Afterwards, the therapist slathers my whole body in fresh yoghurt and directs me to the outdoor shower.

As she leaves, she puts her hands into Namaste, and I respond in the same manner.  This means, “May the God in me greet the God in thee.”  Talk about balance! Balinese pray many times a day and their prayers are deeply joyous and beautifully integrated into their lives.  The taxicab driver wants to talk to you about Spirit; so does the hotel manager and the woodcarver.  They all have stories about their lives that involve their spirituality.  They all want to know what you believe and share what they believe — not to argue with you, but because their belief system embraces God as everything, in everything, in all facets of their lives, beyond death, beyond rebirth.  This is reflected in their architecture, in their love of color, in their ubiquitous offerings of flowers and fruit, even in their spa design.

By now it’s mid-morning and I stand under the warm water, enjoying the sun on my face and body, the sounds of the river, the rich scents of the forest.  Greg joins me, hinting that the backyard at home might need remodeling into a Balinese garden, complete with outdoor showers.  I wash my hair with jasmine shampoo, then we both step into the bergamot scented lime bath that has been drawn for us, the tub filling over the past hour and now topped with dozens of local flowers – hibiscus and frangipani.  As we relax for twenty minutes I reflect on the trip, on balance.  At least these few hours, taking some “personal-me time” has given me peace.  For our group, they are happy with the trip, delighted with the hotel and spa.  For me… well, we get to return at least twice more this year, bringing other groups.  It’s all a balancing act; the trick is to take the time where you can, and to enjoy every minute.  Bali has reminded me of this and I will take the feeling home with me until I return.