Bali do-over: “I stepped into this beautiful haven, and froze”

I really didn’t know much about Bali before my first trip to the Indonesian island earlier this year. I knew two things to be true: Julia Roberts found her peace (and herself) in Bali’s renowned spirituality, and that my friend who had moved here was having a cracking time. He oscillated, unhurried, between the gym and very affordable (very high protein) restaurants, with the occasional night out (for balance, of course).

Other than that, I had no guidance on what Bali, or more specifically, what Canggu had in store for me. I imagined I would come out of this 10-day trip feeling healed somehow. I would feel lighter, brighter, energised – much like many of the travellers I’ve seen singing Bali’s praises post-holiday.

Billie Bhatia

On the first day of my trip, I followed my friend to his gym. He had described it as a country club of sorts, with an indoor and outdoor gym, multiple saunas, ice baths for recovery, a big communal pool, and a hefty assortment of beautiful people. I figured if I could handle Soho Farmhouse in peak June, I could take on Nirvana Life.

Turns out, I couldn’t. I stepped into the beautiful, expansive gym with its winding pathways and picture-perfect corners, and froze. It was like walking into the Love Island villa – its residents clad in tiny string bikinis and low-slung swimming shorts – all sporting tanned, toned bodies and more abs than I could count – and me, in my leggings and oversized T-shirt (and oversized body). I stood out like a sore thumb. Despite the Bali heat, I felt an icy dread wash over me know that Nirvana was to be the base of our trip, as this is where my friend spent most of his time – working, working out, eating, and socialising.

Billie Bhatia

Billie Bhatia

I tried to silence the noise in my head saying I didn’t belong here. I tried to tell myself it was OK that my body didn’t look like every other body I saw in Canggu. I tried to shake off the feeling I was retreating into myself. But I couldn’t stop it.

I let the negativity get a hold of me, and once the claws were in it was hard to escape the self-flagellation. I quickly learnt that Canggu is the hub of the bold and the beautiful – there is no respite from it. I tried to remind myself that the same can be said of pockets of London, but the difference was that in London, I know myself, I know my place there, I know my people. But here, I was a flailing fish out of water. The most infuriating part was that this wasn’t a Canggu problem, this was a me problem – I was the one triggered by the constant confrontation.