Unlocking the Balinese secret to spiritual peace
Forget yoga retreats. Bali may be the world’s wellness capital, but locals believe that finding true enlightenment is all about embracing the philosophy of menyama braya
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The air was warm and heavy with the scent of incense as I stepped out of Denpasar airport into a swarm of honking taxis and darting motorbikes. Smiling women in selendang (Balinese sarongs) greeted tour groups with marigold garlands, while in the distance a Hindu temple gate towered above lush greenery, its ornate carvings catching the fading light. Here in Bali, tradition and religion are part of everyday life.
Indian merchants arrived on this Indonesian island in the sixth century, drawn by the region’s lucrative trade in textiles, spices, precious stones and metalwork, and Hinduism came with them. Yet by the 15th century, Indonesia’s Hindu-Buddhist kingdoms were in decline as Islam spread across the archipelago with Arab and Persian traders and missionaries, and Islamic sultanates were established in Java. Hindu elites sought refuge in Bali to preserve their religion and culture. It worked — many of their customs and traditions continue to define the island today, and Bali is the only Hindu-majority province in the world’s largest Muslim country.
Hindu-Islamic relations have remained harmonious ever since, largely thanks to the practice of menyama braya, meaning “wisdom in creating harmony”. Menyama braya emphasises cooperation in religious rituals and education, and religious leaders resolve conflicts through deliberation and mutual understanding.
“Bali is often referred to as the Island of the Gods,” said Srix, my Intrepid Travel tour leader, as I checked into the Ubud Village Hotel two hours later. Ubud, from the Balinese word for “medicinal”, lies in Bali’s highlands and is the heart of the island’s crafts and dance scene. The air carried the aroma of satay, coffee and that ubiquitous incense.
“We believe Bali is a place that has been truly blessed by all gods, and it’s a spiritual destination for anyone who visits,” Srix explained as she led us to dinner at Café Lotus.
“Bali is also peaceful because the Balinese strongly believe in karma.”
On the way we passed a group of locals celebrating Odalan, a festival for the village’s Hindu temples. Nearby, Muslims streaming out of a mosque respectfully stepped around the canang sari on the footpath. These small square trays made from palm fronds are filled with offerings of flowers and incense for the Hindu gods.
“It’s our way of respecting God, his people and the universe,” Srix explained. “We give back to the land we take resources from.”
Café Lotus is mostly open-air, to make the most of Bali’s balmy evenings, and we sat by the lotus pond enjoying sayur urap (vegetables with grated coconut and lime juice) while watching dancers perform the barong, a depiction of the eternal battle between good and evil. I noticed women in hijabs clapping along to the music, seated beside friends dressed in shorts.
The next day I visited the Gunung Kawi temple in the village of Sebatu, 15km (9 miles) outside Ubud, to observe a purification ceremony. Everyone who enters Bali’s Hindu temples, regardless of their beliefs, must wear a selendang. The ceremony follows a pattern of completing actions in threes, similar to ablution or wudu performed before salah.
“There is a communal place of worship in Nusa Dua, divided into sections where people of all faiths can pray together. It’s part Hindu temple, part Buddhist temple, part mosque and part church,” Ishaq, a Muslim cleaner outside the temple, told me. Practising Muslims like Ishaq embody menyama braya by contributing to the community. In Ishaq’s case, this means keeping the area outside the Hindus’ sacred space clean.
“We treat each other like family – that’s the root of menyama braya. We fund each other’s education, help with jobs, and ensure everyone has a roof over their heads and food on the table,” Anak Agung Gde Ariputra, a member of the Balinese royal family, told me later that night over dinner at Ubud Palace.
The palace, one of the family’s official residences, is renowned for its ornate architecture and the legong dance performances it hosts.
“We are one people, living in one country. We respect and tolerate each other’s beliefs,” said Anak.
Muslims in Bali share many cultural elements with Balinese Hindus, such as the gamelan, an ensemble of gongs, metallophones, xylophones, drums, cymbals and flutes that’s typically played during religious ceremonies or sacred dances. One variant, the gamelan sekaten, is played once a year to mark Eid-e-Milad-un-Nabi, Prophet Muhammad’s (PBUH) birthday.
Even though Bali has managed to avoid conflict for centuries, in 2002 it witnessed devastating bombings targeting tourist spots in Kuta and Jimbaran.
The attacks were carried out by a group of militant Islamist extremists, sparking fears of a rise in anti-Muslim sentiment across the island, particularly in light of the global reaction to the 9/11 bombings. Yet while the bombings undoubtedly dealt a severe blow to Bali’s economy, locally at least, neighbours got along as they always had.
“We managed to maintain harmony between Hindu and Muslim communities thanks to the proactive efforts of religious leaders,” a rice farmer explained as cycling guide Dewa led me through the villages of Bayung Gede and Tampaksiring in central Bali the next day. The bike ride took us through lush rice fields so picture-perfect that I half-expected Julia Roberts to pop up and encourage us to join her in her next spiritual awakening.
“Religious leaders organised mass interfaith prayers and urged people to uphold unity,” he continued. “They believed sticking together was the most important solution to navigating such a difficult time and the intervention played a big role in preserving Bali’s social harmony despite the trauma of the attacks.”
The rice fields led us to Sibetan village, Bali’s largest producer of salak – the native snakeskin fruit. The fruit grows in clusters at the base of the salak palm and is so named because of its reddish-brown, scaly skin.
My guides, Adit and Wayan, have been welcoming tourists to the plantation for three years. Snakeskin fruit is one of the few crops to have survived nearby Mount Agung’s 1963 eruption. The plant’s deep root system and hardy nature helped it withstand the ashfall and soil disruption, while its scaly skin protected the fruit itself. Over time, the volcanic ash enriched the soil, creating fertile conditions for the salak palms to thrive. Today, after years of careful seed-saving, local villagers have become true experts at preserving the fruit, even crafting Bali’s only snakeskin fruit wine.
My accommodation for the night was a homestay with the village’s Banjar Dinas Dukuh community, Hindus who have lived peacefully in Bali for more than two millennia, witnessing the spread of Islam while continuing to practise menyama braya.
“Balinese Muslims help Hindus during Nyepi, and Hindus help Muslims during Eid,” Adit told me.
Nyepi, also known as the Day of Silence, marks the Balinese new year according to the Saka lunar calendar, a Hindu system. On this day, Hindus remain silent and refrain from work, travel and entertainment. On the day after Nyepi, Ngembak Geni, they will visit family and friends to exchange forgiveness. Muslims show their support by keeping things quiet, staying at home and avoiding unnecessary travel.
That night I woke up at 2am to begin the final stop of my trip — a sunrise hike up Mount Batur, an active volcano with breathtaking views across the Lombok Strait to Mount Rinjani on Lombok. Eastern Bali’s plural communities, shaped by centuries of Hindu-Muslim coexistence, trace their roots to settlers from here.
As I climbed 1,717 metres towards the fiery dawn, my acrophobia crept in, but so did my appreciation for Bali’s status as a global wellness capital. Its spirituality goes beyond yoga retreats and meditation; it’s reflected in the respect that Balinese people hold for one another.
“It’s our appreciation for the human to human connection, human to environment connection, and human to God connection,” Srix said, as we looked out over the island. “That’s menyama braya and that’s what makes Bali so peaceful.”
Where to stay
The Ubud Village Hotel is located in central Ubud, right next to the Monkey Forest, Hindu temples, yoga studios and numerous spas — perfect for unwinding after a long day of sightseeing.
Sibetan Village homestays are offered in the heart of Indonesia’s largest snakeskin fruit plantation, giving farmers a new source of income and creating jobs for young people who would otherwise have left the village.
The 101 Bali Oasis Sanur is a 15-minute walk from Sanur beach, a golden stretch of coastline east of Denpasar. The entire street buzzes with cafes, restaurants and ice-cream shops, and there’s even a four-storey shopping centre for souvenirs.
Where to find halal food
Café Lotus in Ubud specialises in traditional Balinese cuisine made with homegrown ingredients. Customers can also enjoy barong dance performances before dinner.
Paperhills cafe, at the base of Mount Batur in Kintamani, is a welcome reward after a strenuous hike up and down the mountain. The menu features everything from satay to vegan burgers, all served with stunning views of Mount Batur from an infinity pool.
Bale Udang Mang Engking is a restaurant on the water in tourist hotspot Kuta that rightly specialises in seafood. It has an impressive selection of freshly caught fish.
The writer was a guest of Intrepid Travel. Intrepid offers a nine-day Beautiful Bali escorted tour from £636pp, and an 11-day Premium Bali and Java escorted tour from £3,055pp, including accommodation, ground transport, selected meals and activities. International flights are extra.
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