'€œA rejuvenating escape at a tranquil spa'€

Words I Wayan Juniarta Photos Courtesy of Tjakra 7 Spa

An excellent treatment at a very good spa is nearly impossible to write about. A dreadful treatment is much easier simply because you are fully awake throughout the process and your mind is recording the regrettable event in high-definition.

An excellent treatment, on the other hand, dissolves your body and mind with fluid, soothing sensations. Consequently, you cannot recall exactly what kind of massage technique was employed by the therapist, or whether the floor of the relaxation pool was made of locally sourced soft sandstone or imported Italian tiles, or whether said floor is off-white or glistening black.

That is precisely what took place when I descended into the hydro pool of Tjakra 7 Spa at Pullman Bali Legian Nirwana. There were several chair-like and bench-like structures submerged across the warm pool. I was thinking of the structures '€” what they were made of, what were their functions and combined weight '€” as my glance turned upward and spotted an opening in the roof with green plants filling the gap and filtering the rays of the afternoon sun. All these thoughts occurred simultaneously as I slowly placed myself atop one of the structures.

Suddenly, my curious, albeit chaotic, train of thought came to an abrupt stop. The stone chair sprouted jets of warm water that embraced and massaged my torso, creating at the same time both a relaxing and invigorating sensation. It was a physical feeling so comforting that it put a complete halt to the wild processes of my mind.

So there I was, succumbing to the delights offered by the warm pool, one of only a handful in Bali, giving each chair and bench a try, savoring the physical pleasure in a child-like rush, and refusing to be drawn again by my grown-up, overly analytical mind. A mind that was washed away under the powerful streams of warm water that poured out of a swan neck-like fountain onto my bare back. I was free.

With that newly found freedom, I confidently entered the massage room some 30 minutes later. I lay on the bed, my mind relaxed. I did not ask any journalistic questions of the shy female therapist. Instead, we conversed as two strangers, as two human beings. I found out how long she had been a therapist, where she came from and how many children she had, and how her friends were now pursuing careers in Dubai and the Maldives.

I did not know her massage techniques or the ingredients of the sweet scented oil she used on my body or the names of the songs that gently filled the softly lit room with a tranquil atmosphere. All I knew was 20 minutes into the 60-minute massage, my body was so relaxed that it surrendered completely to her hands and my mind was so at peace that it stopped wandering. I fell asleep in an unfamiliar place with a stranger working on my much-abused torso.

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