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Bali: Eat, pray, surf

Long before Elizabeth Gilbert penned her best-selling memoir, Surf Goddess Retreat – a luxury surf/yoga/spa camp – was created as a holiday to nurture women mentally and spiritually. Nestled in a quiet lane of bustling Seminyak, it’s clear from the moment I step through the wooden gates that this will be more than a fitness break. A glass of fresh papaya juice is put in my hand as I kick off my Converse and let my eyes absorb ‘basecamp' – a lushly decadent white-walled private villa with a pool, outdoor Balinese-style living room, yoga studio and on-site spa room. I smile at the six other women who have jetted in from around the globe who are in various stages of relaxation/frazzlement, depending on what time they landed at Depansar airport today. They all beam back at me, clearly as stoked to be here as I am. I think I’m going to like this place.

Over a welcome banquet of smoked salmon on herbed frittata, basil and parmesan stuffed chicken and roasted pumpkin salad, whipped up by the villa's talented cook Joyce, Surf Goddess founder Chelsea Rostill-Huntley explains the philosophy behind her sanctuary. "Something wonderful happens when women surf together. They grow more confident. They wash away the cares of the world, laugh and really share something together in the ocean." Rostill-Huntley, a long time surfer who grew up in Bali, created this unique female holiday eight years ago. The addition of yoga isn’t a side thought – there is a real synergy between the two practices. Yep, they’re both great for your body but both also require patience, balance, strength, deep breathing and a sometimes maddening amount of mental focus. Some of the moves are even similar – the push up position on a board is yoga’s upward dog. You’ll often see surfers squat down on their boards, arms out in warrior pose.

Our itinerary is explained over dessert: Every day for the next eight days seven of us females will surf for two hours, yoga for two hours and eat sublime food made from fresh local ingredients for roughly the same amount of time. The other 18 hours we are free to sleep, lounge around the pool, shop, see Bali and go spa crazy. As I savour spoonfuls of lime and coconut sorbet my stomach is doing flips. I'm already a yoga convert and I'm pretty sure I'll nail the eating part. But I'm quietly terrified of surfing. Bali is a world surfing mecca as it's continually hit by swells coming from the South Ocean. While lessons will be tailored to our individual needs, a show of hands around the huge outdoor dining table reveals that only two women have never ridden a wave before. One of them is a very slight, stylish Italian called Alessandra who whispers to me "I am not very strong, but I am very brave." The other is me. Eek.

It’s a good thing yoga on day one is early as it becomes my calm before the storm. Balinese birdsong fills the dawn as I sit on my mat in the open air pavilion which overlooks the lush green frangipani gardens. I can see a huge windchime in the trees. A lotus bush here, a Ganesh statue there. Susan our yoga instructor is one of the highlights of the retreat. Her teaching style is nothing to do with getting a yoga butt (though my whole body was definitely tighter after her challenging classes) and everything to do with discovering your body's capacities, limitations and intricacies. "In Ayurvedic tradition, women are seven times more sensitive and powerful than men. We have a very different way of doing yoga and can use it for many different things – such as a healthy reproductive system or to calm emotions," she explains. Throughout the week she tailors each class for how we're feeling. Sensing the jangly nerves among the group, today’s session focuses on breathing properly (inhale breaths should flow through your nose and deep down into your chest then belly, in three fluid stages, then exhaled slowly, for the same amount of time), and warming us up after a night’s sleep.

After a superwoman breakfast of tropical fruits, bircher museli and eggs we arrive at the Rip Curl Surf School at Legian Beach, known to be one of Bali’s best beginner’s spots, as it has gentler beach breaks. Still, the waves look massive. Our instructors have us on our boards practicing the jump up for 10 minutes, then let us loose in the ocean. Some of the group can already surf and are riding waves to the shoreline before I can get my leg rope on. The current is strong today, and it’s a tough job pushing my board out to the waves while also getting dragged sideways. After about 26 attempts I manage to get up on my knees. Alessandra and many of the other women appear to be mastering this easily and as I mentally tick myself off for comparing a double wave smacks me in the head and I lose my footing. The next thing I know I am crying, right there in the middle of the ocean, which just goes about its business. Melinda, the surf retreat instructor gives me a pep talk and I’m reassured to know that she isn’t a natural either, she practiced her jump ups in front of a mirror every day for nine months before mastering them (though you wouldn’t guess by the way she surfs now – she is a demon). Spurred on I think ‘f&*k it’ and wade back in for another go – paddle, paddle, chicken wings, focus on that tree ahead, don’t look down, don’t stand up too soon, stay low, breathe and suddenly I’m up! Gliding across the ocean to the sounds of seven other women whooping me on takes me back to 1985, the day I won the school softball tournament and my team carried me back to the locker room on their shoulders. The days elation is celebrated by a shopping trip along Double Six, one of the busiest streets in Legyan brimming with sarongs, summer dresses, jewellery and large fake wooden penises. That night I pass out on my bed at 9pm.

I can’t say I ever get to the point where I’m frothing at the mouth to go surfing, for me it’s a mental battle each and every day. But as Chelsea tells me over dinner one night, the bad days in surfing are just as important as the good – they really teach you about yourself. In all I have two really great days where the waves are perfect and I stand up more times than I nosedive. A new set of tears comes during restorative yoga on day three, and I have no idea why. I’m not the only one here who feels the cathartic effect of Bali. One evening I share a white-knuckle bike ride through the backstreets of Seminyak with Jill, a nurse from Colorado. When we stop at the beach to watch the sunset surfers she confides in me that she’s two weeks into a relationship break up and has run to this Bali retreat for salvation. Over lunch on day six Kathleen, an Irish/American TV programmer who lives in Singapore pours her heart out to three of us when the conversation turns to which countries we call home. I don’t know if it’s the ocean or the meditation of yoga or the oestrogen overload but bonds start to form, and not just over tales of heartbreak. There are many belly laughs shared too in amongst the hours of dress shopping, discussions about banana hammocks (The US term for budgie smugglers) and lazing around the villa in an oily-haired post-massage coma.

One of my favourite afternoons is shared exploring Ubud on the back of a motorbike with Jill and Tere, a super-cool surfer from Mexico City. Watching Tere teach Jill motorbike riding 101 Balinese-style on a 10-metre wide street filled with 80 other motorcyclists is a sight to behold. Terre is trying to watch for traffic for all three of us and I’m shouting words of encouragement to Jill “Don’t worry, it really didn’t hurt when you crashed into my arm just then. You’re doing great!” Exhausted and sweaty after taking in brilliant green rice paddies, Ubud’s crazy markets and decadent temples, Tere takes us to Casa Luna, the restaurant featured in that other famous book set in Bali, Fragrant Rice. Over an iced tea and lime papaya meringue pie we swap our lists of favourite books and films and I think to myself there’s nowhere else I’d rather be right now. On the last day of the retreat I feel wholesome. My eyes are whiter, yoga has made my thinking clearer and, despite my fear of the ocean, I have surfed. Love didn’t come in the form of Javier Bardem, but in the form of my six new friends from New York, LA, Dubai, Singapore, Colorado and Rome with who I have swapped email addresses and life stories. Take that Elizabeth Gilbert.

Tara was a guest of surfgoddessretreats.com

Eat, pay, leave

Bali is expecting an influx of tourism due to the film release of Eat, Pray, Love. There is currently a line of women arriving to pay a visit to one of Balinese healers Elizabeth Gilbert writes about. You can find “Wayan” the traditional medicine healer pretty easily (opposite the café Bali Buddha in Ubud), but getting to see her is a different story. There is now a whiteboard list full of names some days long before you can get an appointment. She offers ‘body readings’ (a spiritual, hand and palm reading) which are possibly the most expensive thing you’ll pay for in Bali (around $50 to $85 AUD). The word is that Wayan is now overworked and will often give you the same diagnosis that she gave the woman before you and the one after you (clue: be suspicious if she says ‘you have busy mind’). Our advice? Go and see a different healer (they are everywhere in Ubud and all over Bali) for less money and a (possibly) more authentic experience.