When you reach your sixties, traveling begins to change. You stop rushing. You no longer chase every “must-see” spot listed in guidebooks. Instead, you seek places that make your heart sigh with relief — places where you can exhale, listen to the wind, and feel quietly grateful to still be here, discovering something new.
That’s exactly how I felt the moment I arrived at Loka Pala Villa, a small, serene villa tucked away in the lush greenery of Ubud, Bali.
It’s run by a Japanese woman — gentle, graceful, and wise, with the kind of calm energy that only comes from someone who has truly found her rhythm in life. She greeted me with a warm smile that made me feel instantly at ease. I later learned that she’s been living in Bali for many years, balancing Japanese sensibility with Balinese hospitality.
And perhaps that’s what makes Loka Pala Villa so special — it’s a place where you can be entirely yourself.
The owner told me, “Here, you can say whatever you want. Be honest. Speak freely.”
At first, I laughed. But as the days went on, I realized what a rare gift that really is — a space where you can be open-hearted, without judgment or pretense.
The Villa That Breathes with Nature
The villa itself is surrounded by rice fields and the gentle hum of cicadas. Every morning, sunlight filters through the bamboo blinds, painting soft gold across the room. You wake not to alarms, but to the soft cooing of doves and the faint scent of frangipani blossoms drifting in from the garden.
My room had a simple wooden terrace, and I often sat there with a cup of coffee, watching the farmers in the distance tending to their fields. There’s something deeply meditative about that sight — the rhythm of daily life continuing, steady and peaceful, while you, as a guest, are invited to simply be still and present.
The interior is tastefully decorated — minimal yet warm, with Japanese attention to detail. Towels folded neatly, a little vase of tropical flowers, the faint scent of lemongrass in the air. Nothing feels excessive. Everything feels intentional.
A Place Where Words Flow Naturally
What I loved most about Loka Pala Villa was the atmosphere of honesty. Perhaps because the owner herself is so sincere, guests quickly drop their guard.
Over breakfast — a delicate plate of tropical fruit and freshly made miso soup (yes, miso soup in Bali!) — conversations flowed effortlessly. I found myself talking with a young traveler from Osaka, a yoga teacher from Germany, and even a local artist who drops by sometimes to chat.
There was laughter, sometimes even tears. No one pretended to be more than they were. We talked about aging, about love, about regrets, about joy — all the things that are usually brushed aside in everyday life.
And somehow, it felt completely natural.
Maybe that’s what she meant when she said, “You can say whatever you want here.”
Healing Beyond Spa Treatments
In Ubud, you can find hundreds of spas and yoga retreats promising healing and transformation. But the kind of healing I found at Loka Pala Villa was quieter, more personal.
It came from the slow mornings, the heartfelt conversations, the owner’s simple kindness — like leaving a handwritten note on my door reminding me to watch the fireflies that evening.
It came from feeling seen and heard, just as I am — a woman in her sixties, carrying decades of stories, joys, and scars — and realizing that I didn’t have to hide any of it.
One evening, as the sky turned lavender and the sound of gamelan music drifted from a nearby temple, I sat on the terrace with a glass of ginger tea and thought, This is the kind of place you don’t find by chance. It finds you when you’re ready.
For Anyone Who Needs a Pause
If you’re looking for luxury, marble bathtubs, or infinity pools, Loka Pala Villa may not be for you. But if you long for sincerity — for warmth, for laughter, for that feeling of being gently taken care of — then this little villa in Ubud might be exactly what your heart needs.
I left with my suitcase full of laundry that smelled faintly of Bali’s sun, and my heart a little lighter than when I arrived.
Even now, weeks later, when I close my eyes, I can still hear the rustle of the palm leaves, the laughter over breakfast, and the gentle voice of the Japanese owner saying,
“Here, you can say whatever you want.”
And maybe, that’s what healing really is — not being fixed, but being free.