Courtesy Hotel Tugu

How's this for cultural immersion? Nengah, my therapist for the Kamar Mantra ritual, was "discovered" by the high priest of Duda in north Bali when he was touring this hotel, on the coast about 30 minutes from the airport at Denpasar. At the time, Nengah worked in the laundry, but the priest said she had the gift of healing and should be promoted to the spa. The hotel obliged, training her in massage. She's now one of two therapists who perform this treatment, a massage punctuated by prayers meant to open your consciousness to enlightenment and give peace from within. Nengah apparently suffered from terrible stage fright at the start, but in a version of "may the Force be with you," the hotel told her, "Do what you think is best. Just make the guest fall asleep." In fact, she delivers a strong and eccentric massage — one that stands out amid the often tame scripted sessions at luxury resorts here.

The treatment is of a piece with the hotel, which is composed of 18th- and 19th-century Indonesian buildings salvaged by the owner, Anhar Setjadibrata. In the dusky lobby, panels of red, cadmium yellow, and lavender fabric fill the spaces between the muscular wood pillars, each topped by a carved Boma head, which the Balinese believe ward off evil spirits. The Le Mayeur suite, one of the top rooms, is a shrine to Adrien Jean le Mayeur de Merpres, a Belgian artist who came to Bali in 1932 and is famous for his paintings of island life. (The bed and side tables were carved by a blind Balinese woodworker.) The other rooms are simpler but no less authentic. I loved my Rejang Suite for its cool wood floors, hammered-aluminum washbasin tub on the sun porch, and casement windows that let in the ocean breeze. The spa's products are blended on the premises, its massage beds are made from vintage ricestorage tables, and its therapists are locals who, like Nengah, have the gift. They speak very little English, but their hands are fluent in massage. — G.W.

+62-361-731-701, www.tuguhotels.com