Spiritual Journey | Confessions of a Cruise Director

Finding Balance in Bali

This is part 3 of a 4 part series about a recent trip we took to Bali

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 gently 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 on a spiritual vacation as I practice the art of balance.

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 on my Bali spiritual tour 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 – talk about spiritual travel!

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.

Spiritual Vacation Spa Materials

My spiritual tour of the spa is nearly complete, and Greg and I meet back in the suite looking refreshed and a little dazed, like something blissful has taken a permanent spot in our hearts.

Finding Balance in Bali

This is part 2 of a 4 part series about a recent trip we took to Bali

The infinity pool into the rice paddies at the Alila Hotel

Of course a spiritual vacation is 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, as well as where Liz Gilbert stayed when she wrote the Bali part of Eat Pray Love. 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. You feel like you are on a spiritual vacation for sure here, a spiritual tour of the mind, body and soul. 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.

All of Bali is a work of art

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, knowing that we digress from Eat Pray Love, but happy to do so..

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. As we slide open the teak doors to our room, we are transported into another level of beauty. I treat myself to a spiritual tour of the room. 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. Nicer than the accommodations in Eat, Pray Love… by far.

The outdoor shower of our room in Bali

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 the 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 spiritual tour leaders don’t get much spiritual vacation time. Ensuring that all the guests are happy, well taken care of, and that their myriad questions are answered, leaves me little time for personal pursuits, though I do re-read portions of Eat Pray Love in the pool each afternoon, just as a reminder to stay on track.

Sometimes, something comes along that profoundly affects you enough to need to talk about it… a lot.  I read a book that I think, in addition to being highly entertaining, also had a profound spiritual impact on me, and on my own spiritual tour as I careen through this thing we call life.  So I thought I would share it with you – it’s coming out this week, and you can also read the first 2 chapters for free  at Forgiving Ararat.com.  I would also welcome your comments here!

Forgiving Ararat is, without a doubt, the most original book I have ever read. First-time novelist Gita Nazareth (surely not her real name?) has created a story world which seems to live at the intersection of the film What Dreams May Come, the Bible, and a John Grisham novel, with all the best aspects and deeper meanings of each.

The story begins as the heroine, Brek Cuttler, arrives at a train station called Shemaya just after her death. Perhaps the only previously used image in this novel is the station metaphor, but in the skillful, lyrical hands of Nazareth it becomes much more than a wayplace for the dead. A lawyer in life, Cuttler has been chosen to represent the souls of these dead as they pass their Final Judgment, but first she must learn to accept that she has died and why, as well as learning how to be a presenter of souls in this shimmering, shifting purgatory.

Both a spiritual novel and a rivetingly juicy tale, I found reading Forgiving Ararat almost a religious experience. Nazareth’s prose bathes the reader over and over in the light of justice, love and hope, tempering the sinister stories of man’s inhumanity with the truth of their reasons for making these dark choices. She turns murderers and rapists, lawyers and newscasters alike, delving back across centuries and even millennia, into dimensional human beings and argues successfully that the pursuit of justice may itself be irrational and unjust, but it is how we order our lives, and forgiveness, if not love, can still conquer all.

Underlying an epic stocked three deep with characters of every ilk, whose stories are interwoven like a colorful hand-knit afghan (even the book’s publisher gets a fictional nod as the press of one of the novel’s doomed souls) is Nazareth’s startling prose: “… the morning sun strikes the bright yellow fall leaves of a maple tree, making the tree appear as though it has burst into flame. A small sparrow lands on a branch, risking immolation.” Every sentence bursts with a transcendent pride of place, as if each word is happily embracing the next, and even the least significant description is worth rereading to see what new light Nazareth has shone upon usually mundane text.

Though Nazareth’s story of good, evil and the search for justice in what at times can seem like a very unjust world, is spiritual, it also deals with the religions of man: of Christianity, Judaism, and Islam, as well as the fanaticism of Nazis, the Aryan Nation, and Holocaust deniers. It is here that Nazareth excels the most, expertly navigating these dangerous waters and bringing the understanding of truth and the desire for reason and justice all the way to Adam and Eve, Cain and Abel, even to Jesus and Yahweh Himself (or Themselves, depending on how you look at it). It is as if she is asking us to look at each religion, at each viewpoint, as Cuttler is asked to look at each soul, impartially and without judgment, and we are richer for it by the end of the tale. Forgiving Ararat is not to be missed, and Nazareth’s novel, I hope, will be the first of many.

Finding Balance in Bali

This is part 1 of a 4 part series about a recent trip we took to Bali

I am sitting in the stunning, airy bar of my gorgeous Balinese hotel and I am sweating… a lot. I’m on a spiritual tour that I’m leading and I’ve just had a ten-minute walk, the slow, meandering kind, but it has still taken its toll in the sticky, humid weather. Even with spiritual vacations, 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 an actual spiritual 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. This is furthered by the tremendous interest in Eat, Pray Love, where the author/heroine visited Bali for four whole months and found the love of her life.

We are traveling in Bali for two weeks, visiting temples almost every day. The emphasis of a spiritual tour 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. Yes, most of the women have readEat Pray Love, though none of the men have. 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, the core of any spiritual vacation.

Next week… part 2 of a Spiritual Vacation in Bali

In honor of finishing my first draft of my book Travels Through Egypt I am posting a section on the guys who rent the camels, which is a favorite story – enjoy!

Everyone visiting Egypt wants their picture taken on a camel.  There is therefore no shortage of enterprising young men who hover as close as the Pyramid police will allow and offer to put you up on their camel.  It used to be that you could get up on the camel and have a picture taken, for free.  Of course, it costs a dollar or two if you want to get down!  These days, they also all carry packages of makeshift “Lawrence of Arabia” head wraps, and as you are trying to maneuver your way up onto said camel, will thrust one on your head (whether you are male or female) and ask you to pay for that, too ($5 will cover it, less if you try to give it back first).

I do not care a bit for sitting on or riding camels, though I have done my fair share.  The first time I rode one, he complained.  About having to kneel down so I could mount him, about getting back up again with me on his back, about being led around, and about the way I sat — which could have been no more comfortable for him than it was for me, which is to say not atall!  Camels are the boniest creatures — but how would you like someone sitting on your spine?  So how does a camel complain?  It sounds just like Chewbacca, the giant brown Wookie from Star Wars.  As deep, as resonant, and come to think of it, exactly the same pitch. In fact, this realization caused me to look up Chewbacca’s voice on the internet.  Thank God for Wikipedia, which confirms that indeed, camels were among the voices used to create Chewie’s freakish sound (and bears, and a walrus… in case you were wondering.)

These guys obviously make a living getting you up on the camel and selling you A) junk — pyramids and postcards, along with the Arab hat — and B) the right to get off your camel.  I think of them as camel jockeys, because they are always jockeying for position.  One guy is so aggressive with us he literally grabs one of our group around the waist, and tries to hoist him up.  Carter, who is from East Texas, protests the whole time in his distinctive twang, “No, Ah do not want a ride, thank you very much, cowboy!”  But he ends up on that camel.  Just doing some math, based on the 5 minutes and an average $2 someone spends on a camel, these guys are clearing a hundred bucks a day, easy.  Which is pretty incredible in a country where the average salary is $400… a month!

If you’re a tourista in Egypt, enjoy your camel ride, but remember, it’s far safer on the ground, in several regards…

• is sharing some fun insight on Eat Pray Love filming in Bali, which just wrapped. http://ping.fm/dXnXk #
• is sooo tired! Have been working all day, but also getting ready to go camping in the AM for Greg's birthday! #
• Happy Thanksgiving! Interesting article: U.S. couple from Georgia experiences Hajj pilgrimage – http://bit.ly/7SFxpT #cnn #
• Had the most wonderful Thanksgiving!! Romantic, team-building, exotic, traditional, and the food… MMMMMMMM!!! #

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• is in the Century City News with our Eat, Pray, Love Bali tour (in May). Please repost! http://ping.fm/a7JcZ #
• has had a new article posted on Self-Growth.com Top 10 Reasons to Take a Spiritual Tour: http://ping.fm/TBAGv #
• As if the airlines PR wasn’t bad enough already: Continental, American expand surcharges; US Air implements, too – http://bit.ly/1KAkzw #cnn #
• My new article, Top 10 Reasons to Take a Spiritual Tour, was just published on SelfGrowth.com – please share!  http://ping.fm/AZIkM #

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About every quarter, we pack an overnight bag, leave the dogs with a housesitter, and drive the two-and-a-half hours from LA to San Diego to visit my favorite cousin, Randy, and his long-time girlfriend, Lisa. Wonderful people, warm, hospitable and friendly, Lisa is a Catholic who attends mass, well, religiously, and Randy is a bit of an atheist. In fact, he seems to have embraced food as his religion, and Greg and I inevitably come home with a “meat hangover” by Sunday evening.

Enjoying Spirituality Everywhere

So this weekend I thought I would look for the spiritual aspects of the experience. Randy and Lisa are also the most consummate consumers we know, and often our weekend consists of shopping for food, cooking, drinking and eating, with an occasional break to shop for the next meal or items on sale somewhere. Of course, I don’t just mean eating. I mean serious chowing down. Randy’s idea of a mixed grill for four consists of a rack of ribs, a couple of hand-spitted rotisserie chickens, some steaks he couldn’t pass up, and a smoked sausage. And the man can cook! The sausage is, after all, only there to show off his smoker, which is about the size of most people’s refrigerators.

Driving down to San Diego, Greg and I stop on the way (as usual) in San Juan Capistrano.  Home to swallows and an historical mission, for us it is the place where we can get an awesome fish burrito to share, then jump back on the highway. Further down the 5, just after it curves around to hug the ocean, we pull off at Vista Point.

Seagulls enjoying Vista Point

Up on the flat top of a hill, jutting out towards the ocean, Vista Point is one of my favorite spots. Seagulls flock onto the outcropping of rock, which slopes gently to the ocean, sea grasses and rocks dotting the way down. I have passed this way many times at important crossroads in my life and have made decisions standing looking out over the ocean. Visiting here gives me perspective on these choices, the memory of my passages, my milestones.

Once we arrive, they want us to try a new sushi restaurant, Jump Tokyo, where the sushi chef’s warmth is palpable, ratcheted up a notch by the free oysters on the half shell topped with ikura. The artistic quality of the food enhances our experience further, and I realize an important truth: done right, there is a spirituality in food – art, worship, even love.

Plate of Love

Back at the house, Randy fires up the grill, makes margaritas. Lisa and I catch up while Greg brings our bags in and checks his e-mail. Lisa usually acts as Randy’s second-in-command, but deferring to my love of cooking, kindly steps aside all weekend to allow free rein to the “Cooking Cousins” (as Greg nicknamed us years ago). For Lisa, this means a weekend of cleaning up, which to me is an incredible kindness. Yet after dinner, as I watch her scrubbing the countertops until they gleam and making sure every last dish is washed, I suddenly see the purity of her choices, the meditativeness of her efforts, the selflessness of this act. If God’s a Catholic, Lisa’s going to heaven.

The next afternoon, as Randy and I race back and forth between grill and stove, kitchen and outdoor barbecue oasis, I am suddenly overwhelmed by a feeling of love… for my family, for these little tasks that give me so much pleasure. Spirit says “just be.” Life is the journey. This weekend, which means nothing in the way of accomplishment or advancement, has given me the priceless opportunity to be, and to enjoy it. I think we’ll come again next month.

Visit Spirit Quest Tours to learn about our upcoming spiritual tours!

Ramadan, the most important Muslim holiday, is celebrated for the whole month, and it changes almost everything about Cairo.  Ramadan is a time to get closer to God, making self-sacrifices to be awake and aware of your choices, so people fast all day every day during the month of Ramadan.  This means not only no eating, but no drinking (not even a sip of water), no smoking, no sex, and no smoking!  I think the no smoking stricture may be harder on the Egyptians than no sex.

The result of people not eating all day is that, for the most part, everything is closed during daylight hours. With few exceptions in the tourist areas, where the poor waiters and chefs are serving food they cannot eat all day, the stores and restaurants shut down and open all night instead.  At sundown, however, the whole city of Cairo goes crazy.   One night at sundown, we visited the Al-Hussein mosque, which is perhaps the most important mosque outside of Mecca, to experience the real Ramadan.

The mosque is in the heart of the Khan El Khalili market, but this evening, we couldn’t get closer than a half-mile.  It was like a rock concert, with cars everywhere, parked all higgledy-piggledy.  To get a spot, a kid about eighteen hopped up onto our hood and directed us as we drove down a bizarre narrow alley with cars parked so close we had to hold our breath just to pass.  Walking back out of the alley after cramming ourselves into a tiny space, we saw two more “parking attendents’ and the owner of a yellow car rocking the cars in front and in back of him.  Shifting the cars a few inches at a time, the yellow car finally was able to maneuver out of the spot, whereupon it was replaced by another car.

On the street, it was equally chaotic.  At Ramadan, the rich are supposed to feed the poor, and everywhere we looked, shop owners had set up impromptu cafes in the street, which were full of people breaking their fast by gorging on the free food.  Close to the mosque, we passed a covered hall where huge pots and pans were set out on the ground, and people sat around guarding the meal until it was time to eat.

The Al-Hussein mosque was like a fairground, so full of people you could barely move, part church, part circus.  Every vendor stood by a tiny stand hawking religious artifacts, beads, or spangled LED tops that could fly high into the night sky with a simple flick of the wrist.  Leaving our shoes among the hundreds of pairs at the entrance, my girlfriend and I wormed our way through the crush to the woman’s side of the mosque.  We could barely breathe as the undulating mass of women pushed us forward into the doors of the mosque.  But inside, we fared no better, as we literally couldn’t go another step.  Women sat cross-legged everywhere on the floor, knee to knee, chanting and praying and touching the marble wall which contained important relics.  Disappointed and nearly squished, we turned and wriggled our way back out.

The men had a much more enjoyable time.  Obviously a much larger space, the entrance to the men’s side was empty, so my husband and two other travelers left their shoes with us as they strode into the mosque.  Once inside, they were immediately taken under the wing of several Egyptians who, seeing them, announced, “Sit! Pray with us!” This is typical of the Egyptians, who we have found over the years to be welcoming and inclusive in their worship. While we waited for them to come back out, I looked around the main square of the Khan.  Always bustling, tonight it seemed to almost burst at the seams with the friendly, raucous, joyous celebration of the end of the day’s fast.  It may change everything in Cairo, but I was glad to be there on during Ramadan.

Visit Spirit Quest Tours to learn about our next spiritual tour to Egypt!

After lunch, I wanted to smoke a hookah.  Mohamed, our other guide, laughed.  “You mean a shisha, my sister.  What kind of flavor do you want?”  Shisha (called a hookah in places like Turkey), is tobacco is soaked in molasses.  Often, the molasses is flavored, I guess so it’s a little like dessert when you smoke it after dinner.  It turns out there are a lot of shisha flavors.  Apple, mint, and coffee are the most popular in Egypt, but I have also tried honey, cantaloupe, mango, raspberry, strawberry and new car smell (I’m kidding about that last one).  It’s also fun to mix two or more flavors to create a new one, but that’s more likely to happen at the hookah lounges in Vegas than in a little outpost of hookah heaven in Cairo.

For about a dollar a person, the waiter will bring you a huge, standing water pipe, with the flavored tobacco of your choice on the top of the stand, and a hot charcoal disk on top of that. Most restaurant shishas have at least two pipes, long snaked hoses that end in cigarette filter mouthpieces.  To share with others in the States, you get a plastic tip that you can take off and put on as the pipe is passed to you, but in Egypt they simply cover the mouthpiece with a bit of foil.  This means you are fairly protected from the last group of people who smoked this pipe before you, but you’d better be comfortable with the hygiene of the ones you are smoking with now.

 The important thing to remember is that, while you can inhale the smoke, cooled by the water that is the whole point of this method, an unaccustomed smoker (a shisha ingénue) can still get what those in the know refer to as a “harsh toke.” There is nothing more hilarious than seeing your mother trying to French inhale, when she hasn’t smoked in about 40 years, causing her to  hork up a lung instead.  I, on the other hand, occasionally imbibe a ciggy butt when the mood hits, so I am capable of holding my own on the shisha front.  This mightily impressed Mohamed and Emil, who, in addition to the enjoyment of blowing smoke rings on a shisha, also shared a pack-a-day habit.

Eventually, this caught up with Emil, who had a heart attack and nearly died.  Both he and Momo quit smoking, but only Emil, touched by death and knowing he narrowly avoided the rigor mortis dance, stayed the course.  They both lost weight because of this brush with the Great Beyond, though, which of course only added to their pull with the ladies.

After lunch, we boarded the bus, with more music and dancing (and request for tips) accompanying our exit.  Suddenly, those who have had a glass of wine or beer with lunch are dancing with these locals, feeling less intimidated than the rest of us, or else more in tune with the music.  We all clap and take pictures and leave the restaurant very happy. And very full.  Another chance to improve relations with the Middle East, another successful afternoon!

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