I visited the ‘Eat Pray Love’ healer in Bali during an extended wellness trip which ended in a neurodivergent diagnosis (which I have since wrote an entire memoir about). This blog post shares my personal experience and some helpful info at the end, including the healer’s location and the cost.
Note: I also have a post about trying a Balinese water purification ceremony
Visiting the ‘Eat Pray Love’ Healer in Bali
Wayan Nuriasih is the female healer in Bali, featured in the book and film ‘Eat Pray Love’. It was never my intention to visit her out of fandom, or to follow in the Eat Pray Love author’s footsteps, but rather I stumbled on her business by chance.
After running an errand, I noticed a green sign across the road with bold capital letters: ‘EAT PRAY LOVE’. I recognized Wayan’s name and snapped a photo of the sign advertising energy healing sessions.
After a creepy nightmare (or questionably, an experience with a spirt), I decide to seek out a Balinese healer in Bali. I pull up the photo in my phone and re-read the details on the sign. I’m not clear what an energy healing session involves, but I’m in my healing era and open to trying anything that might help me.
I order a Gojek and arrive outside the compound where I first saw the road-side sign. A Brazilian couple are waiting outside the gated entrance, and we form a short queue which reaches the road, a bustling street with motorbikes whizzing back and forth.
Wayan opens the gate and stands, blocking the entrance. She wears a crisp white blouse and lilac skirt, and her dark hair is twisted into a claw-clip. She holds a clipboard and resembles a stern school teacher, silently examining us through rectangular spectacles. I wait for her to invite us in, but she remains stationary at the gate, handing us an intake form. We are instructed to write our full name, place of birth and birthday, including the day of the week.
Wayan has each of us step up to the gate for a brief introduction, before shooing us away and motioning to the next. The gated entrance we crowd around is only a few steps from the road and it’s difficult to hear her voice over the traffic. A wave of disappointment rolls through me. I anticipated a more private setting than this, perhaps even an opportunity to sit down with Wayan.
She’s speaking to one of my companions, when she suddenly stops and looks directly at me:
“I do not allow people into my property without a cleansing ritual, it brings bad spirits, bad things happen before we do this.”
I’m startled, as though she’s just read my mind. I silently step forward when it’s my turn to approach her. Wayan has me outstretch my hands, palms facing up, and examines them through her reading glasses.
“Pain in stomach, yes, pain in stomach, digestion not so good,” she says while scribbling notes on my form.
“You have pineapple, next day mango, next day spicey, next day coffee, not all at same time or too much acid,” she instructs.
She pauses to check the progress of the Canadian girl behind me, who was instructed to apply a gray paste to her stomach. Wayan uses her pen to demonstrate, poking her own belly.
“You put inside belly button. See, you feel better already!”
Wayan returns to my outstretched hands as if gazing into a looking glass and continues diagnosing me.
“Neck and shoulder pain too.” She nonchalantly ticks a box on her form.
Using the tip of her pen, she flips my hands over, examining the tops, and reaches for an offering from a nearby basket. She holds it high over her head and chants a prayer for me in Bahasa.
Returning her gaze to mine, she tells me, “Three generations from your papa, they are healer people.” Nodding in affirmation, she confirms, “You can learn healing.”
There is a generous pause before she asks, “What do you do?”
Momentarily stunned, my thoughts fail to properly link with my speech. I blurt out, “Medical.”
“Huh?” she asks.
How can I possibly explain to her I’m a researcher by background, with a prior career in health care and a failed yoga business, but I’m currently unemployed on a career break; and oh yah, I’m also a travel blogger.
I realize what I’ve said didn’t make sense, but it comes out again:
“Medical.”
“I’m a medical researcher,” I tell her.
The Brazilian man behind me has been listening with interest. “Ahhh, general practitioner,” he says in a thick Portuguese accent, nodding in approval.
“Researcher,” I correct him, now speaking more to him than to Wayan, and he steps in as a makeshift interpreter, saying loudly over my head: “Investigation. She makes research.”
Wayan nods in acknowledgement and looks me square in the eyes.
“You must learn healing. This is your part-time job now. You must learn something. If you don’t, it will confuse your mind, cause problem, long time pain in neck.”
Unsure of how to react, I silently nod, as she leans forward and pulls down my lower eyelids to examine the whites of my eyes. “Low blood pressure,” she nods, adding another tick to my form.
She pinches one of my fingertips.
“You’re smart, not a stupid person,” she adds, vigorously shaking her head. “Not stupid, very smart.”
Her stern demeanor finally breaks, and she giggles.
“Your mind is like this,” she says, drawing a straight line which forks into two directions. She rotates one of her hands back and forth for extra effect, as if opening and closing a jar.
Wayan prescribes me rice porridge and star gooseberry leaf, though I’m unclear for what, and offers me a small, clear bag of green goo to put on my face.
“Now,” she instructs.
I step aside and begin to apply the paste to my face like a mud mask. I look like Shrek and people on motorbikes gawk as they drive by.
I watch on with intrigue as the Brazilian man is instructed to get down on his knees for an onion-water cleansing. She sprinkles it over his head like a root vegetable baptism, while he pats the holy water over his face and head.
“My eyes, it burns,” he exclaims, blindly stumbling to the outdoor wash basin to rinse his face.
I follow him to wash the green crust off my skin and return to the gate to hear final remarks from Wayan.
“You must calm the mind, you learn meditation, then you will be healing.”
The experience of visiting a healer in Bali was admittedly not what I expected, but Wayan was extremely accurate. I do have neck pain and digestive issues, I’ve experienced fainting spells from low blood pressure, and I certainly struggle to calm my mind.
Yet, I accept her prophecy with hesitancy. For all I know, she could tell every visitor they’re meant to be a healer, playing into the egos of foreign tourists. I suppose only time will tell!
Summary: Visiting a Healer in Bali
So do I recommend visiting a healer in Bali during your trip? If you are staying in Ubud to explore healing and spirituality, then yes—why not? The entire experience was 500,000 Indonesian rupiah, which felt reasonable to me (though I have since learned that most Balinese healers do not charge even close to this much and do not advertise their services, which makes finding authentic practitioners a challenge to foreigners). Wayan offers her services from her compound, located North of the centre of Ubud.
You can find the location on Google Maps here.
Do I feel as if I was healed by the experience? No—it felt more like visiting a psychic than a healer, as if she had access to information about me just by looking at me. Standing at her gate among other tourists did not feel personalized though, nor private. It was also difficult to hear her over the noise from the road. However, I don’t regret going and did find the experience very interesting and memorable, turning it into a chapter in my debut book ‘With Love from Bali’.
I have also participated in several water purification ceremonies from Ubud with a different healer, De, a character in my book. You can read more about it in my next post: Trying a Balinese water purification ceremony where I share her contact information.
Shop my Book
Tap to order my ebook ‘With Love from Bali’.
Was this post helpful?
Let me know in the comments below.
The post I visited the eat pray love healer in Bali appeared first on .
