Indulgence, Interrupted

As intrigued as I was to relive my solo trip to Bali, I knew it wasn’t going to be the easiest piece I would write. For starters, the entire time I was in Denpasar I took just thirteen photographs.  Right from the jump I was going to be severely limited in how I could share bites and sips, sunsets over the Indian Ocean and the island’s manic natural and spiritual beauty.  Creative limitations aside, I had a sneaky suspicion too I was going to drive the narrative of any Bali blog head on into the stickiest of all stuck points in my life.  Not surprisingly, the more distance I had put between the old me and the becoming me, the more fatigued I had become trudging through this tired, cliché plot of quicksand.   And so emotional trappings aside too, I just couldn’t see how this particular trip’s rampant self-indulgent escapism was going to make any sense alongside the new gospel of intentional travel I’d started to preach. 

And yet, I woke up this morning well ahead of my alarm ready to catch whatever wave Bali wanted me to ride. If I’ve learned anything writing this blog and embracing my new purpose and future, it’s that a trip is so much more than a transaction spread out across a finite number of days.  Hearts and minds willing, every trip we take can become a vital source of self-discovery however and whenever we come to call upon it.   And so as hedonistic as my trip to Bali had been in October 2023, it made sense to me that just this morning it was nothing more than a spring of disregarded, untapped meaning.  But with every word I’ve typed since, a truth and grace only travel can arouse, has come gushing out.  For that reason, I am convinced both my trip to Bali and the subsequent post about it can be one of the more poignant experiences I dissect around intentional travel.

Fun fact first, this Bali entry marks my 19th blog post as The Untethered Traveler.  Try as I might, I couldn’t immediately think of anything ceremonial around the number 19 beyond the fact it was prime. Of course 19 is also historically significant because it was the 19th amendment that granted American women the right to vote.  Committed if not a touch stifled, I stuck with my instinct to connect the dots.  And then I found it.  In Numerology – a belief system I should point out I do not follow nor judge – 19 is often associated with new beginnings, personal growth, and spiritual enlightenment. 

This was the breadcrumb I was looking for.  I didn’t have to believe in Numerology to see how this out-of-nowhere search, precipitated by nothing other than the number Bali drew on my weekly content calendar, had pulled me just far enough away from my own assumptions that I could see my trip to Bali wasn’t all that it appeared at face value. I wouldn’t have to write about sunbathing next to push-for-service buttons, incredible four-hand massages in the St. Regis Spa or daily coffee service before private tennis workouts in the hotel compound next door.  Hedonistic? Yes, and then obnoxiously some. The moral of the story? Not even close.  

Coffee Service on the Patio, St. Regis Bali

To lay the groundwork for the focus of #19, we need to go back to July 2023.  I had been asked to run the marketing for my parent company’s IPO.  The ask came down just four months after I had accepted a promotion to my dream job as Global VP, Brand for one of their subsidiaries, an American based sport equipment supplier where I had worked already for eight years.  I had wanted this role for so long and had worked so hard for years to get it.   It was a time in my life where all the signals indicated my career was now cruising at a comfortable altitude. 

After a successful Analyst Day (a critical, complicated event on the IPO roadmap), I turned to travel as I had always done to exhume the recoverable bits and pieces of my over-committed and over-stimulated mind and body.  I knew I had to be as efficient with my time away from home as possible as no sooner had one event ended did I feel the self-inflicted pressure to move on to the next. I gave myself carte blanche to book whatever was needed to recharge over the seven days I had in front of me.  In retrospect, this was my first albeit innocent mistake.  I did what a lot of people do, I threw money at a problem that needed a more inward, soulful diagnostic.  To be clear, it wasn’t a mistake to go to Bali.  It was a mistake to assume that my version of Bali was a simple, quick fix for something that was brewing deeper than the best Five-Star resort or magical island could penetrate. 

To that end, no version of Bali, even the lush, abundant one flourishing just outside the security gates, would have given me the peace I was looking for - because I didn’t have the self-awareness to even seek it.  Instead I had flipped on the worst kind of autopilot.  I let it override my inner voice instead of turn to it for insight and instruction. On top of that, I chose the less disruptive but stagnant path of overconsumption and self-denial ignoring signal after signal that the life I was pursuing wasn’t giving me the permission or space I needed to be my true authentic self.  I was stuck.  I was, in fact, trudging through quicksand...    

While my inner compass may have been askew, I could always rely on my stable and well fed personal navigation system to guide me to exquisite taste.  The St. Regis was beyond incredible.  The service was every bit as fantastic as one would expect from a 5-star resort, and then some.  The suite complete with its own plunge pool was nestled into the middle of the property surrounded by exactly the peace and tranquility I had been searching for. 

Three daily rituals would bring me joy during my time in Bali.  Ritual #1 – breakfast.  The breakfast spread at the St. Regis’ Boneka was next level.  Across the span of my travels, I can think of only three other buffets in the world that rival it – the Le Barthélemy in St. Bart’s, the Westin in the Maldives and the Rosewood in San Miguel De Allende, Mexico.  Nothing sets the tone better than attention to detail around the most important meal of the day.  I will typically judge a hotel’s breakfast by its assortment of fresh fruits and fresh pressed juices, check;  its dedication to a well-stocked pastry table, check; and its showcase of local cuisine, check, check, check.  I am not exaggerating when I say I think about Boneka’s crab fried rice A LOT… like way too much.  There was also something called Egg Nouvelle - a slow cooked egg with pureed lobster and parsley mousse with fish roe and asparagus on top.  As uninspiring or off-putting as that may have sounded at first, once I tasted it, it was a staple at my breakfast table every morning.   

The Egg Nouvelle, Fresh Fruit & Pressed Juices and Crab Fried Rice at Boneka at the St. Regis Bali

Ritual #2 - tennis.  After intentionally dragging out breakfast every day in an effort to make room for every last morsel I wanted to eat, I would defy the digestion gods and head straight to La Liga Tennis Club to hit some balls before Indonesia’s humidity and heat could get the better of me. I ended up playing every day but one for both the benefit of the workout and to soak up the positivity of La Liga’s friendliest teaching pro, Arnie who had what can only be described as the most contagious zest for life.  It was profusely clear he was one of those unicorn pros - a true lover of the sport, a motivating hitting partner and a natural teacher.  My interaction with Arnie was unquestionably the highlight of my time in Bali.

Ritual #3 – the beach.  By the time I made it to the sand each day, I had already brought joy to gut, body and soul in spades.  As I would settle into my chaise lounge for the afternoon, it would finally be time for my mind to take a load off too.  That sometimes meant gazing for hours on end into the infinite horizon of the Indian Sea watching huge cargo ships spend what seemed like the entire day crossing in front of me to ports unknown. It might also mean getting lost in the pages of a good book.  I opted for both Tony Fadell’s Build which documented his journey to start the brand we now know as Nest and Dilettante by Vanity Fair’s Dana Brown.  Regardless of the relaxation tactic deployed, my beach routine always included taking refreshment, in what other form of course, then a frozen cocktail served in a “coconut.”   I would become loyally committed to The Mockingbird a gin based frozen concoction with fresh guava and passionfruit juices and a mint leaf garnish.  It was so damn good that I suspect this achievement in mixology will always stay perched atop anything else I ever sip on in the sand for the rest of my life.

 Rituals aside, my one and only evening off property would best be described as sensory overload from start to finish, a steep and stark contrast to the peace and quiet of the St. Regis.  Seminyak, Bali was bursting with life, vibrancy, noise and… traffic!  The main street – JI Raya Basangkasa – was lined with restaurants, vacation bars, day spas, temples and shops of all varieties and price points. I have to laugh now at my master plan to casually stroll up this street to my dinner reservation, popping into boutiques and wine bars along the way.   That’s not exactly the vibe here...  Still, I found some really cool artisan shops and galleries.  I bought a set of throw pillows for my living room sofa at Karaka and a silver and gold ring at Biasa+.  Wine? Well that would have to wait for dinner unless I wanted to take the edge off with a Jägerbomb or Fireball shot instead [I didn’t!].  For whatever reason, I took zero pictures that evening at Sangsaka despite remembering everything I ate being very, very good.  What a miss on my part not to be able to relive those tastes through the photographs; and worse yet not to be able to share them out for other people to see the artistry at play in this local gem.

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While Bali was most definitely an oasis before a tumultuous time of change for me, I know it could have been so much more if only I was traveling with intent instead of access and means.  It’s one of the few solo trips I’ve ever taken where my travels are cast in a shadow of regret.  And yet, I said earlier that travel coaxed out a truth and grace.  I can and do look back with self-compassion now and see and most importantly feel for, this ambitious, successful woman who was simply doing what we all try and do every day – find our way. 

But without my inner voice as my compass, I was creatively blocked, burnt-out, and off-center.  I found what temporary comfort I could in Bali, just not meaning. As least not right then, anyway…  As I started the process of unpacking Blog #19,  it struck me that new beginnings and personal growth often catalyze deep within us long before the revelation rises to the surface.  I now believe I took exactly what I was supposed to from Bali - restoration to shore me up for a tough 2024 ahead and invaluable context from that nagging sense of unfulfillment that would reveal when the time was just right one of travel’s more transformative powers.  If our hearts and minds are willing, every trip we take can become a vital source of self-discovery however and whenever we choose to call upon it.  Push-for-service button not required.