I went to Bali for the content. I'll be honest about that. I'd seen the infinity pools overlooking rice terraces, the flower baths, the temples wrapped in mist—and I wanted those photos for myself and for the brand. I went to Bali as a businesswoman on a research trip.
I came home as someone who finally understood what rest actually means.
The Arrival That Disarmed Me
I landed in Denpasar after a brutal sequence of flights—Chicago to Tokyo to Bali, nearly thirty hours of travel time. I was exhausted in the way that goes past physical tiredness into something existential. I'd been running my business at full speed, managing trips across multiple continents, and I hadn't taken a real breath in months.
The driver from our resort was waiting with a cold towel and a flower lei. The ride to Ubud took about ninety minutes, and I watched the landscape transform from the chaos of Denpasar into something I wasn't prepared for: silence. Terraced rice paddies. Temples hidden behind stone walls covered in moss. The air itself felt different—thicker, softer, like it was asking you to slow down.
By the time we pulled into the property, I was crying. Not dramatically. Just quietly, like my body had been waiting for permission to release something, and the beauty of this place had finally given it.
What I Didn't Expect
At Caviar in the Air, I design experiences that transform people. That's the job. But I'd never experienced that kind of transformation myself on a research trip. I expected Bali to be beautiful. I expected great food, stunning temples, and photo opportunities. I did not expect Bali to fundamentally reorganize my priorities.
Here's what happened:
The Healers Are Real
I'm a skeptic by nature. Enterprise sales will do that to you—you develop a finely tuned radar for performance versus substance. So when our guide arranged a session with a Balinese healer, I went in with my professional poker face firmly in place.
The healer was a small, quiet man in a simple house outside Ubud. No crystals. No incense. No dramatic pronouncements. He asked me three questions, placed his hands on my shoulders, and said something that landed like a freight train: "You carry everyone. Who carries you?"
I sat with that question for the rest of the trip. I'm still sitting with it.
The Ceremonies Are Not Performance
Bali is the only Hindu-majority island in Indonesia, and the spiritual life here isn't something that happens in designated places at designated times. It's everywhere. Offerings on every doorstep—small baskets of flowers, rice, and incense placed three times a day. Temple ceremonies that close entire roads. The smell of frankincense drifting from family compounds.
This isn't performative spirituality for tourists. This is a culture that has integrated the sacred into every moment of daily life. And being immersed in that—even for nine days—recalibrated something in me that I didn't realize was miscalibrated.
The Rice Terraces Will Make You Philosophical
I stood at the Tegallalang Rice Terraces at sunrise and watched a farmer tend his paddies the same way his family has for centuries. No technology. No efficiency hacks. Just a man, the earth, and a system of irrigation that predates most European cities.
And I thought: When was the last time I did something with my hands? When was the last time I created something that wasn't a spreadsheet or a marketing strategy?
Bali does this to you. It asks the questions you've been avoiding.
Why Bali Is Different for Black Women
I need to address this directly, because it matters. Bali is one of the most welcoming destinations I've experienced as a Black woman. The Balinese people are genuinely curious, warm, and respectful. I never once felt uncomfortable, exoticized, or unwelcome.
What I did feel was something I don't always feel when I travel: permission to be soft. Permission to not be strong. Permission to receive care without having to earn it first.
For Black women—particularly high-achieving Black women who have spent their careers being excellent in spaces that weren't designed for them—Bali offers something rare: a place where your only job is to exist. To breathe. To let someone else handle everything for once.
That's why I built our Bali Experience. Not as a vacation. As a reset.
The Moments That Stay
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The flower bath — Lying in a stone tub filled with frangipani and rose petals overlooking a jungle valley. Ridiculous? Maybe. Necessary? Absolutely.
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The Kecak dance at Uluwatu Temple — Fifty men chanting in unison at sunset on a cliff overlooking the Indian Ocean. It's one of the most powerful performances I've ever witnessed.
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The cooking class — Learning to make Balinese spice paste from scratch with a woman who laughed at my knife skills and then patiently taught me the right way. Food as connection. Always.
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The silence — Waking up at 5 AM in Ubud to absolute silence, broken only by roosters and temple bells. Sitting on my balcony with coffee, watching the mist rise off the valley. Not thinking about anything. Just being.
Ready to Let Bali Hold You?
Our Bali Experience is designed for women who are overdue for a reset. Nine days of luxury accommodations, cultural immersion, wellness experiences, and the kind of rest that goes deeper than sleep.
Claire B. Soares is a 5X Condé Nast Top Travel Specialist and the founder of Caviar in the Air. She has traveled to 64+ countries across all seven continents and believes that the best trips don't just show you the world—they show you yourself.
