The Reality Behind the Instagram Dream.
Fourteen souls traveled halfway around the world to retreat with us in Ubud, Bali.
Fourteen people chose to leave their homes, their routines, their families, and their comfort zones —and fly to the other side of the world to spend a week practicing yoga, meditating, exploring, laughing, crying, sweating, resting, connecting, and, in many ways, letting go.
That alone is pretty amazing.
And if we’re being completely honest, we have to attribute some of that to our incredible leader, Janine Forte.
To know Janine is to love her. She teaches and leads with a rawness, depth, and passion that is difficult to put into words. She has been teaching yoga and mindfulness and leading yoga retreats and trainings for years, and there is a reason so many of her offerings fill quickly and often have waitlists.
So yes, we love Janine.
And yes, we love what she creates.
But this isn’t going to be a seamless plug for Janine or a glossy recap of what some might call a perfect yoga retreat.
This is about Bali.
And our very real retreat experience in Bali.
Instagram vs. Reality
Let’s start with what most of us thought Bali was going to be.
Bali became internationally famous in part because of Eat Pray Love, the book-turned-movie starring Julia Roberts. Elizabeth Gilbert’s journey eventually brings her to Bali, where she finds herself surrounded by lush rice fields, tropical landscapes, spirituality, and a sense of magic.
Then Instagram happened.
And Bali became even more famous.
We saw the photos.
The rice terraces.
The jungle waterfalls.
Women in flowing dresses floating on enormous swings.
Smoothie bowls.
Matcha.
Massages.
Beautiful villas surrounded by tropical greenery.
And, of course, the occasional impossibly attractive surfer who somehow turns out to be a billionaire tech prince and invites you onto his yacht in St. Tropez in the next Instagram story.
You know the vibe.
We ate it up.
So naturally, when we arrived in Bali, we were ready for the dream.
What we got was something a little different.
And honestly?
We’re glad we did.
Welcome to Beautiful Chaos
We landed in Denpasar and began the approximately one-hour drive to Ubud. Approximately one hour, that is, if Bali traffic were a normal thing.
It is not.
Our drive took closer to two hours.
Motorbikes zipped in and out of traffic. One person on a motorbike was normal. Two was common. Sometimes there were three. Occasionally, four.
Dogs wandered along the busy streets.
Statues and offerings were everywhere—spiritual figures and elaborate decorations woven into everyday life, many intended to honor and protect the land and the people who live there.
Welcome to Bali.
When we finally arrived in Ubud, we still had about a ten-minute walk to our retreat center. That walk became its own initiation.
The road was narrow and winding, more like a vein than a street, carrying everything with it. Construction.
Uneven pavement.
Holes.
Wires hanging from poles and crossing through spaces you would probably prefer wires not to be crossing.
Incense smoke.
Ducks mingling with garbage.
People.
Cars.
Motorbikes.
Noise.
Movement.
A lot of it.
And yet, somehow, there was beauty woven through all of it.
The people of Bali have a warmth that is difficult to describe. Their smiles seemed to soften the chaos around us.
Because there was beauty everywhere.
You just had to look beyond the obvious.
Turn down one of those little side streets and suddenly the noise disappeared. A rice field opened up.
A bamboo entrance appeared.
A waterfall.
A tiny café serving the most incredible smoothie bowl.
A temple.
A garden.
A hidden path.
It was almost as if Bali was saying:
Yes, I’m chaotic.
But keep walking.
It Took a Few Days
It took us a few days to adjust.
And we were grateful for those days.
Because our guests were about to arrive, and we knew they would be experiencing their own version of culture shock, jet lag, sensory overload, and disorientation.
Our retreat center itself was charming in a very particular way.
Jungle rustic.
Open air.
Connected to nature.
Not necessarily what everyone would call luxurious.
And that distinction matters.
Because one person’s dream bathroom is another person’s fear.
One guest loved the open-air bathroom.
Another did not.
Some loved being serenaded throughout the day by cock-a-doodle-doos. Others did not.
Some loved the morning light streaming into their rooms.
Others wished for blackout shades.
Some loved the homemade vegetarian meals.
Others were ready for something different.
And that’s okay.
This is one of the things we have learned from hosting yoga retreats in Bali and around the world:
There is no such thing as a universal retreat experience.
We can create the container.
We can create the itinerary.
We can create the practices.
But every person enters that container with their own expectations, history, needs, preferences, and energy.
And that’s where the real retreat begins.
Opening Circle
Janine held beautiful space for our opening circle.
We could see the uncertainty on some faces.
This was a completely different environment.
A different culture.
A different time zone.
A different hemisphere.
And for some, a very different level of comfort.
But this is also where retreating becomes powerful.
We practice staying.
Staying present.
Staying curious.
Staying open.
And eventually, settling in.
Our welcome practice grounded everyone, and then the week began.
Day One: Grounding
The first day was intentionally gentle.
We began with a two-hour yoga practice, followed by brunch.
Then came a canang sari class, where we learned about and created traditional Balinese offerings.
Later, we returned to our mats for a 90-minute yin practice before sharing a group dinner. The first day was about arriving.
Not just physically.
Arriving in the body.
Arriving in space.
Arriving in Bali.
That is something we value deeply in a yoga and meditation retreat. Before we ask ourselves to transform, explore, release, or discover something new, we first have to arrive.
Day Two: The Chaos Continues
After our morning practice and brunch, we headed out for a full day of exploring. The Monkey Forest.
Ubud Market.
A traditional Balinese dance performance.
It should have been a fairly straightforward excursion.
But there was one problem.
Our retreat center had not sent us out with guides.
So our group entered Ubud proper and experienced the city in all its chaotic glory. Let’s just say that everyone was a little on edge.
It wasn’t the smoothest day.
And that’s okay.
Because real travel isn’t always smooth.
Real retreats aren’t always smooth.
And real life certainly isn’t.
Sometimes the lesson isn’t in having everything go perfectly.
Sometimes the lesson is in figuring out how to move through what doesn’t. That seems to be a metaphor for life, if you ask us.
Day Three: Mount Batur
Then came Mount Batur.
The guides called for a 1:00 a.m. departure.
So we left our accommodations sleepy-eyed at 1:00 a.m.
After a two-hour drive, we arrived at the base camp.
And then we climbed.
For approximately two hours.
In complete darkness.
The hike was physically demanding, but it was also mentally and energetically challenging. It was day three.
The jet lag was still real.
The environment was still unfamiliar.
And anyone who has led or attended wellness retreats in Bali or elsewhere knows that day three can be a turning point.
People begin to soften.
The armor starts to come off.
The things we have been holding together can begin to surface.
And sometimes they do.
When we reached the summit, however, we were rewarded with one of the most breathtaking sunrises we had ever seen.
Coffee.
Warm banana sandwiches.
The mountains.
The sky changes colors.
Monkeys wandering around.
For a moment, everything was still.
Then came the descent.
And if climbing up was challenging, coming down was its own experience. Some of our women struggled physically.
Some struggled emotionally.
There were tears.
There were moments of overwhelm.
There were emotional releases.
It happens.
Actually, it happens often.
When people have been given enough time and space to slow down, something eventually gives. And sometimes that something is a tear.
Sometimes it is laughter.
Sometimes it is exhausting.
Sometimes it is a realization.
Sometimes it is simply the permission to stop pretending everything is fine. After Mount Batur, we headed toward the hot springs.
But by then, many of us had reached the point where the hot springs were no longer the priority. We wanted showers.
A proper meal.
Our beds.
Rest.
So that’s what we did.
That evening was free, and many of the women ventured out in small groups to explore local restaurants.
Thursday: The Bali We Came For
If you asked most of our guests which day they loved the most, Thursday would probably win. We began with our two-hour morning practice—the nucleus of every One Yoga retreat. Then brunch.
And then:
The rice terraces.
The iconic Bali swings.
Zip lines.
Walking.
Exploring.
Taking in the landscape.
This was the Bali we had seen in the photos.
But even better because we were actually there.
For anyone searching for a yoga retreat in Bali, this was the side of Bali they probably imagined before arriving—the lush landscapes, rice terraces, spirituality, and sense of wonder.
But even this wasn’t the whole story.
Later, we participated in a traditional water blessing ceremony.
We were released.
We cleansed.
We were invited in.
And we were guided through the ceremony by people whose presence and devotion made the experience incredibly meaningful.
A special thank you to Mr. Wayan for his beautiful heart and generous offerings.
We spent several hours there before heading to a coffee plantation, where we sampled local coffee and chocolates.
That evening we shared dinner together.
Then, after a full day, it was an early night.
Friday: Rest—or Not
Friday began, as most retreat mornings did, on the mat.
Another full morning practice.
For many guests, these practices were the highlight of the retreat.
And that’s something worth saying.
Because while Bali provided the scenery, the excursions, the waterfalls, the rice fields, and the adventures, the heart of our retreats is always the practice.
The breath.
The body.
The stillness.
The community.
The space to listen inward.
Friday was technically our rest day.
But this group was not particularly interested in idleness.
Every group has a different energy.
Some women took a boat tour and swam with manta rays.
Others visited an elephant sanctuary.
Everyone created their own version of a day off.
That evening was White Night.
A tradition we hold on the final evening of our retreats—a celebration of Oneness, Light, and Purification.
We dressed in white and went out for a beautiful dinner, complete with traditional Balinese dance and local cuisine.
It was a fitting way to close the week.
Saturday: Closing
And then, somehow, it was Saturday.
Closing circle.
Closing practice.
Farewells.
Hugs.
Tears.
Laughter.
A dance party.
And that strange feeling that always comes at the end of a women’s yoga retreat when a group of people who were strangers not long ago suddenly feel like they have shared something deeply personal.
Because they have.
Was It All Good?
No.
Was it all bad?
No.
Was it enriching?
Yes.
But perhaps not in the same way for everyone.
That’s the part of retreating that doesn’t make it onto Instagram. We have a collective experience, but everyone has a subjective one. One person may tell you the open-air bathroom was magical. Another may tell you they never want to see an open-air bathroom again. One person may rave about the vegetarian meals.
Another may have spent the week dreaming about pizza. Someone’s highlight may have been the waterfall.
Someone else’s may have been Mount Batur.
We hear it all.
We see it all.
And we accept it all.
Because the purpose of retreating isn’t to manufacture a perfect experience. It is to experience.
All of it.
The beauty.
The discomfort.
The unexpected.
The laughter.
The tears.
The connection.
The exhaustion.
The silence.
The chaos.
The stillness.
Bali Gives You What You Need
There is a saying that Bali gives you exactly what you need.
After this trip, we understand that a little differently.
Maybe Bali doesn’t always give you what you want.
Maybe it gives you what asks you to pay attention.
It asks you to slow down in a culture that moves differently.
It asks you to find beauty amid messiness.
It asks you to surrender your expectations.
It asks you to be present.
And sometimes it asks you to laugh when your luggage is flying down the street on the back of a stranger’s scooter.
It asks you to walk through chaos before revealing the rice field around the corner. It asks you to climb a mountain in the dark before giving you the sunrise. It asks you to let go.
And maybe that’s the retreat.
Not escaping reality.
But experiencing reality more fully.
This entire piece was a collaboration between our team and our guests, including Janine herself, who has officially declared that she is in her honesty era.
We commend her.
Because the truth is, Bali was not perfect.
It was not always easy.
It was not always comfortable.
It was not always what we expected.
But it was real.
And it was beautiful.
Beautiful in the way that life itself is beautiful—not because everything is polished and picturesque, but because there is something extraordinary hiding inside the mess.
So when people ask us:
“How was Bali?”
“Was it amazing?”
Our answer is probably going to be the same one Janine gave us:
It was beautiful chaos.
