Living within a walled estate, behind a perimeter that keeps the rest of the world at bay and out of sight, has always had a sort of monastic-style appeal to me, though the idea is hardly a new one.
Humans have always experimented with how to separate themselves from society’s clamor. The impulse is universal, embedded within our humanity.
Countless walled cities fill the pages of antiquity. Milton’s 17th century literary classic Paradise Lost has the Devil peering over the ‘verdurous wall’ into the idyllic green expanse of Eden. The word ‘paradise’ comes from the ancient Persian pairidaeza, meaning an ‘enclosed place.’
They call it puri (palace compound) – a private sanctuary popularized hundreds of years ago by Balinese royalty.
The Balinese have a word for it too. They call it puri (palace compound) – a private sanctuary popularized hundreds of years ago by Balinese royalty when the island was ruled by competing, independent kingdoms.
But that was long ago, a privileged way of life now lost to us. A throwback to a bygone age.
Well, not quite.
Paradise found
I recently found its echo in the most unexpected of places. Not a palace, nor a sprawling estate, but within the walls of a villa at Jimbaran Puri, A Belmond Hotel – a world unto itself on the gentle, sandy arc of Jimbaran Bay on Bali’s southern shoreline. It is here that the concept has again been triumphantly realized: a private, Belmond-inspired pairidaeza.
My own little world.
The thatched villa to my left had a teak-filled bedroom and lounge room, a marble floor and an indoor and outdoor shower. To the right, a second thatched building contained another lounge room not much smaller than the first and a floor-to-ceiling glass wall that opened onto the private swimming pool and its two decorative wall fountains.
There was also a large gazebo with mattresses and a sea of cushions and banana lounges. Even the rooftops were gorgeous: vast expanses of alang-alang – a traditional roofing method in which grasses are woven around bamboo battens.
Its unfiltered ocean views give this tranquil hideaway an expansive feel, but in reality it’s much more boutique than resort.
It was a cloistered retreat, a Milton-like Eden, a world of balance and harmony, landscaped gardens filled with vibrancy and color set around a built environment with nothing out of place. The Balinese concept of Tri Hita Karana (three causes of wellbeing). Perfection.
The two-meter-high rock wall that now surrounded me was limestone, a sedimentary rock formed over millions of years from shells, coral and a host of marine organic compounds, popular for being easy to work with.
Along its base were lines of potted red frangipanis and bougainvillea, as well as shrub-sized, palm-like ti plants, garden crotons, large green-leafed arrowhead plants and blue trumpet vines. Manicured grass filled in the spaces between the pool, gazebo and the residences.
On the other side of my walls, out there in the ‘real’ world of the resort’s sprawling manicured grounds, breakfast is served in Tunjung Restaurant – its open-air design overlooking the resort’s main swimming pool and beyond it to the ocean – with its array of local Indonesian and international dishes.
Feast for the senses
Lunch and dinner can be taken in Nelayan Restaurant or at a table on the sand. I loved their roasted pumpkin soup with cream cheese tortellini, and for dinner deciding between a wagyu beef bolognese, slow-cooked pork belly or a locally caught and oven-baked barramundi fillet wasn’t easy.
Much of the hotel’s food comes from local purveyors. The beef is sourced from farms near Petang, eggs come from farms around Tabanan and the seafood is caught fresh each day by local fishermen and purchased from local markets.
The Beach Spa is a dreamy collection of three thatched gazebos. In addition to the treatment rooms, it has a serene outdoor hot tub for flower or herbal immersions. Book a late afternoon treatment, then watch the sunset because, yes, the hotel faces west.
Its unfiltered ocean views give this tranquil hideaway an expansive feel, but in reality, it’s much more boutique than resort. Its walkways are like village footpaths, taking you past lily ponds and small temples of black basalt stone.
I spent three days swimming in the pool, lounging in the gazebo, listening to music on the room’s Bose sound system and ordering room service.
Generally speaking, I’m not one for being ‘cocooned’, that insidious hotel ploy designed to keep you within its boundaries by providing you with everything you think you want.
Normally, I need to get out. But not this time. I spent three days swimming in the pool, lounging in the gazebo, listening to music on the room’s Bose sound system and ordering room service.
Occasionally, I’d step outside its boundaries to stroll along Jimbaran Bay, past the local food stalls that set up there every night before sunset. And if I needed more? Well, the main road to the rest of Bali was only a minute away by scooter.
And that’s the road I took – only when it was time to say goodbye.
