Balinese wellness retreat Fivelements does detox with a difference

Forget leaves and lentils. Guests at a retreat in the highlands of Bali can detox with a difference.

A villa with alfresco bath in the leafy surrounds of Fivelements, near Ubud, Bali.

Two weeks of holiday indulgence in Bali has come to an end, husband despatched back to Sydney while I make my way up to the cool, green heights of Ubud for a detox detention. No more cocktails, coffee or coconut cakes for me. I am under-prepared and faintly horrified at my decision to test-drive a health retreat.

The language surrounding Fivelements, billed as “an eco-conscious Balinese healing and wellness destination”, doesn’t help, either. Phrases such as “a space for life transformation and love in action” make me, the ultimate sceptic, cringe and wince. My goals are to learn new pain management techniques after a recent hand operation and lose the few kilos stacked on by cortisone injections. If I end up with a more shiny aura and recalibrated diet, all the better.

Fivelements was set up by Italian couple Chicco and Lahra Tatriele in 2010 on the edge of the village of Baturning, outside Ubud, and has scooped various international awards for its eco practices and “living cuisine”. It has legions of repeat guests and a line-up of expert healers. You can check in for a few days of ad hoc treatments, as I do, or a more structured retreat or “healing journey”. I instantly like the organic nature of the programs and the lack of enforced camaraderie and group sessions. No one tut-tuts when I give my frank opinion of yoga, meditation and “expressive arts” but I am encouraged to learn breathing techniques to control stress and pain, and these new tools are to prove much more beneficial than I could have imagined.

The low-lying sleepy hollow of an estate wraps on three sides of a bend on the rushing Ayung River and there is the constant, life-giving sound of water on the move. “Imagine your cares and worries carried away,” I am told. It is the most convivial of soundtracks at a property where there are no television sets; I find myself listening intently early morning for the clear, comforting noises of birds and, at night, the gamelan-like tinkle-chirp of cicadas and crickets. All the buildings, including nine thatched guest villas, are made of natural materials such as bamboo, coconut wood and rattan; the architecture is simple and feels at one with the earth. Other environmental initiatives, such as low-level wattage, are admirable but less than practical. I fall over twice along a badly lit path; I see other guests stumble at night over unsteady stones. My villa is so dim I can’t negotiate my way around the groping shadows without an iPhone torch app. Chicco ensures me that after complaints similar to mine, the lighting is being addressed and all accommodation will soon be given a timely refurb.

Meantime, my villa is Teja, meaning fire, but also the name of my favourite Fivelements tea, a blend of cinnamon, ginger, pepper and clove. It has a grass-roofed ceiling, recycled timber floorboards and an outdoor bath pavilion above the river, with a deep tub carved from a boulder and curtained sides; the bathroom proper adjoins the sleeping area with a semi-alfresco shower and plentiful supplies of botanical toiletries. One late afternoon a warm bath is drawn for me in that outdoor cabana and I soak in a mix of pandan leaves, ginger slices and segments of green-skinned oranges and lime. I feel as if I’ve been lightly marinated as the sun goes down and the geckoes come out.

The villa bedroom is spacious and air-conditioned with a windowside day couch and mosquito-netted teak four-poster. Although I don’t get to see these, there are also two private-pool villas with a choice of one or two bedrooms. All around the accommodation lies jungly vegetation, a sheen of green dotted with pink frangipanis, dainty mauve orchids, clumps of palms and bamboo, and lotus ponds full of circling fish. There are scuttling hens and rooster alarm calls. Stone lanterns, apparently magically wired, play music as you progress over hump-backed bridges and past round high-roofed huts where group sessions take place.

The retreat’s Sakti Dining Room is on several levels, including riverside nooks, and has been designed in the shape of a banana leaf. Tables are set with bowls of marigolds and the staff are attentive and full of gentle humour. All meals are taken here although room service is available, and indeed recommended, for breakfast; a morning feast of chia and coconut porridge with tulsi seeds, goji berries and strawberry and banana compote is sensational, and perfectly partnered with an immunitybooster juice zinged with turmeric and ginger. I had imagined a regimen of leaves and lentils, but the reality is astonishing. Wellness cuisine, it transpires, is a masterpiece of ingenuity and full of crunch and texture. Dishes are vegan, and mostly served raw, but there are several heated options, such as a laksa with young coconut noodles and shiitake mushroom burger served on a rice bun. I have caffeine withdrawals but become all but addicted to cashew-milk matcha shakes sipped through lemongrass straws; since returning to Sydney I have happily cut my coffee intake to one daily cup.

So, imagine a day at Fivelements that shapes up with just a handful of pressing decisions. Morning spa treatment? Then an afternoon activity? Or vice-versa. Or two spa treatments a day? Or a dip in the riverside swimming pool? Watsu water healing massage? An “embracing change” session with the serene Sri Lankan-born healer and life coach Nilanthi? Earlier plans for shopping expeditions into Ubud fast evaporate. Wi-Fi access is available but seems pointless in such otherworldly surrounds.

I am intrigued by the so-called laboratorium where the highly skilled therapists blend remedies from bark, roots, seeds, petals and fruit to be used in beauty rituals; cucumbers are sliced for face masks, salt crystals are mixed with virgin coconut to use in body scrubs, face tonics of champaka, frangipani and ylang ylang flowers are steeped overnight for added potency and fragrance. Therapies are administered in a string of seven temple-like buildings on a ridge below the Healing & Wellness Centre; its high-ceilinged reception area is a lovely gathering place and is where you’ll find Shanti the tortoiseshell “spa cat” who regularly disguises herself as a batik cushion and so gets sat upon by blissed-out guests like me.

Decor of the “healing rooms” is plain, massage beds a tad spartan, but the experience is the real deal. No wafty-wafty therapies here but good, hard ministrations and reiki-like laying-on of hands to unknot muscles and relax tight shoulders. There are four suites designed for couples and all of these treatment spaces have a bathtub and deck with river view.

And that name? The five elements are earth, water, fire, wind and void (or variously ether or sky in Eastern philosophy); at this property the derivation is the Hindu concept of panca mahabhuta, the working together of internal and external forces. I learn more about this during an Agnihotra (fire healing) ceremony with Nyoman, a local Hindu priest. We sit cross-legged ladling ghee and offerings of rice into a bougainvillea-garlanded fire pit while Nyoman recites Sanskrit mantras. At his urging, I have written down my “worries” on pieces of paper, now folded tight to be tossed into the flames. As they burn, scorched scraps briefly lift into the air. I imagine my stress and pain spiralling into the ether and remember to breathe very, very deeply.

Susan Kurosawa was a guest of Fivelements.

CHECKLIST

Rates at Fivelements average about $318 a room a night; add 21 per cent taxes. Book a Signature Wellness Retreat by August 31 for stays between October 15 and December 15 and save 15 per cent. The highly recommended spa and the Sakti Dining Room also are open to non-guests.

More: fivelements.org.