Mystical temples, pristine beaches, resplendent rice paddies that hug the heavens and a landscape so gaudily green it hurts the eyes: Bali is the ultimate bucket-list destination. Destinations, really—there are actually several Balis, as different from each other as past is from present and East is from West. Selecting two stellar properties that fabulously embody this contrast, I arrived armed with a singular mission: Behold Bali from both sides.
First, though, I beheld emerald. Everywhere. I was in Ubud, a tourist-friendly village in the mountains that is your fantasy of Bali come to life, starting with its verdant vistas; at every turn the world became greener and greener. I checked into Viceroy Bali and, the next morning, fell from my bed into an infinity pool (Viceroybali.com). No, really—I did; each of the Viceroy's 25 villas has an infinity plunge pool perfectly poised outside its bedroom. And why shouldn't it? Ubud's stunning vistas might as well be made for infinity pools, which hang like glorious treehouses over seas of palm trees. Once I tumbled into my infinity pool I did not want to extract myself. So I remained, ogling a landscape so picture-perfect I thought it had to be a backdrop. Nestled in a secluded ridge above Bali's Valley of the Kings, named for generations of Balinese royalty who lived in the area, Viceroy—an independent boutique property unaffiliated with the international hotel brand—had essentially loaned me an infinity pool with a room attached. Except said room was regal, too, complete with white marble interiors, a palatial bathroom and a delightfully domed alang-alang (thatched) roof.
I might have stayed in my villa for three days, but lovely things lured me out. At CasCades Restaurant, I remained mystified by the view of the Petanu River gorge and ordered lamb and nasi goreng from its wide-ranging menu, contemporary French accented by local and pan-Asian dishes. Breakfast there was pure decadence, served in courses: a coconut scramble, eggs with tangy ratatouille, fresh mango and a plate of Greek mezze.
At the Lembah Spa I had daily Balinese massages and was impressed by the combination of Western approaches and traditional Balinese wellness techniques. The helpful hotel staff offered me daily excursions: Balinese dance lessons? Private yoga classes? White water rafting, an elephant safari or a helicopter ride over the rice paddies— since Viceroy is the only hotel in Ubud with a helicopter pad, helpful for shuttling visitors to the airport in minutes?
Most days, I opted for my plunge pool instead. Until my final day in Ubud, when I paid homage to another sort of plunge pool. At the Tirta Empul, a magnificent 10th -century Hindu water temple, I joined locals and tourists in ritual purification, soaking in the holy water of the petirtaan (bathing structure) until I imagined all my Western maladies would never ail me again.
The next day, purified and calmed, I made the hour-long trip to Seminyak and arrived scratching my head: Could this be the same country? A modern beachfront resort town favored by sunburned, beer-happy Australians, Seminyak is another world: not eat, pray, love but drink, party and… you know.
The car deposited me at an institutional-looking red-brick-and-teak edifice that furthered my confusion—was it a museum? A school? It was Katamama, a newly opened 58-suite boutique property that's fast become the talk of the town (Katamama.com). Less a hotel than a meticulously crafted, thoughtfully designed, grand-scale piece of art, Katamama is the work of Indonesian architect Andra Matin, influenced by the Balinese building practice of tri angga, in which spatial structure reflects harmony between a building and its occupants. Hand-pressed Balinese bricks, usually used for holy temples, construct a property that allows guests to see different angles of the landscape from each level. The sublime final result is the Bali of today, on full display: hipster-chic luxury showcasing contemporary Indonesian culture via architecture, art, design and craftsmanship.
There was no check-in desk; I entered to find a dimly lit bar area, its walls decked out in vinyl.
"I'm the concierge," said a friendly young lady perched on a bar stool. "If you need me, I hang out here all day."
My welcome drink came in the form of a bartender knocking at my door and getting to work at the swank bar in my room—yes, full bar, complete with infused spirits and mixology guide. Lemongrass gin, spiced rum, or citrus vodka, he inquired? I sipped the latter and admired the room, with its exposed brick, Indonesian grade-A teak flooring and vintage 70s-style furniture. Everything at Katamama, I began to affirm, really is art, and everything is local—right down to the details. Tarum Bali created the room's rugs, bed throws and stylish bathrobes; the teak amenities boxes in the bathroom were handmade by Balinese craftsmen. Even the pool looked like a postmodern painting, a crayon box come to life—so much so that when I posted a pic of it on Instagram, friends asked if it was a graphic.
The art at Katamama is culinary, too. I dined daily at MoVida, the renowned Australian brand's first international venture. At first I was skeptical: Spanish cuisine in Indonesia? But the creative tapas and raciones were delectable: mushrooms with duck egg, croquetas, soft shell crab with seaweed aioli on a squid ink bun, chilled seafood salad. And the breakfast menu won me over fully: pressed dragonfruit juice, huevas revueltos topped with soft shell crab, Spanish waffles, arroz con leche, churros.
Exiting the hotel after settling in, I confronted a strange structure across the street. It resembled an art project, a stadium made from old shutters. I wandered in and discovered sheer bliss: The Potato Head Beach Club, Seminyak's hottest hangout and Katamama's welcoming neighbor. I was guided to a gorgeous day bed that felt like a full-on apartment overlooking the sea, where I ordered spiced nuts and a glass of wine. I walked down the beach and, amid the coconut and massage vendors and "surf lesson" signs, looked for indicators that I was still in Bali. I spied a few of them: the remains of a temple offering on the sand, the outline of a temple in the far-off vista (or was that another resort?).
Truly, though, I didn't want to leave the magical world of creativity and whimsical luxury that is Katamama and Potato Head—especially after my farewell dinner at Kaum, the latter's new high-end restaurant. It serves up Indonesian food—but not just any Indonesian food; chefs scoured the entire country, from island to island, to deliver a divine sampling of Indonesian culinary delights. Kaum gave me, no hyperbole, one of the best meals of my life. There was nothing of what I call the gringo effect—the watering down of spicy flavors ("Not too spicy for you?" asked wary waiter after waiter, to which I shook my head vigorously). From the heavenly sambal platter—a collection of tangy chutneys—to the klappertaart, coconut bread pudding, the meal left me ready for more exploration: I'd seen both sides of Bali, but clearly the many faces of Indonesia were calling.
