Retirement Reimagined: It Started With a $15 Massage in Bali
It was a hot, humid afternoon in Kuta when a wooden sign caught my eye. Cary and I had been shuffling along Jalan Pantai Kuta, dodging surfboards and coconut machetes, when I saw it:
Balinese Massage: 200,000 IDR.
I did the math. Fifteen U.S. dollars.
“Cary,” I said, tugging his arm, “that’s cheaper than airport coffee and a sad sandwich.”
Before he could reply, I pulled him inside.
The shift was immediate. Outside: scooters honking, sweat trickling, vendors yelling. Inside: tiled floors, a tiny fountain, and the smell of ylang-ylang—sweet, slightly spicy, like jasmine flirting with vanilla. My shoulders dropped two inches before anyone even touched me.
Discovering Wellness Without the Price Tag
Back home, massages were rare events, birthday coupons or awkward spa gift cards that came with someone whispering about my aura while charging the price of a car payment.
In Bali, wellness wasn’t indulgence. It was maintenance. Massage shops in Bali made Starbucks in the U.S. look rare, which is saying something, since at home we have Starbucks in front of Starbucks.
Juice stands blended avocado smoothies for a couple of dollars. Yoga studios sat tucked between temples and warungs.
My therapist worked with steady, practiced hands while geckos clicked above like tiny percussionists. I walked out taller, looser, lighter. Cary rolled his shoulders and announced, “Well, I’m officially boneless. Call me Cary the noodle.”
Affordable Luxuries That Added Up
One massage turned into several, and before long it was a habit. In Bali, the math made sense:
Massages: $10–20 per hour, from modest family-run shops to polished wellness centers
Smoothies: $2, blended to order with fruit that tasted like sunshine
Yoga classes: $5–7, led by teachers who somehow convinced Cary his hips could still move
At home, these things had felt extravagant. In Bali, they were simply part of the day.
The Balinese Approach to Healing
What struck me most was that this wasn’t a “treat yourself” culture. Balinese massage came out of centuries-old traditions, blending acupressure, Ayurveda, and Hindu-Buddhist principles of restoring balance. To locals, weekly massage wasn’t indulgence—it was hygiene.
“Massage is like brushing your teeth,” one therapist told me, smiling as she poured ginger tea afterward. “Every day, you clean stress away.”
It was the first time I thought: maybe retirement wasn’t about collecting cruises or new golf clubs. Maybe it was about collecting habits that made you feel human again.
Retirement, Reframed
For years in the U.S., I had lived with chronic pain in my shoulder and neck. Every six months, I sat in a pain clinic for injections that cost more than a weekend in Bali. The waiting room always smelled like antiseptic and regret.
In Bali, the pain evaporated. Maybe it was the massages, maybe it was less stress, maybe it was mango smoothies doing unspeakable things to my nervous system. Whatever the reason, I hadn’t needed a needle in years.
Cary joked I was finally cheaper to maintain than the car. I said I was just relieved my retirement fund was no longer subsidizing a doctor’s new boat.
Daily Rituals That Felt Real
Our retirement rhythm in Bali unfolded quietly:
Morning strolls through side streets, where kids giggled on motorbikes too big for them
Plates of nasi campur and cold teh botol that cost less than drip coffee back home
Coffee shops that were either hushed with ceiling fans or buzzing with expats typing manifestos
Weekly spa visits that cost less than pizza delivery
Evenings on the porch, sipping sariwangi tea while neighbors chatted and roosters rehearsed their dawn solos early
None of it felt extravagant. It felt obvious. Why had we waited so long to live like this?
A New Definition of Luxury
That first $15 massage in Kuta did more than unknot my back. It unraveled my idea of retirement. Luxury wasn’t the cruise ship brochure or the shiny car in the driveway. It was smaller. Softer. Kinder.
It was stepping into a modest spa, breathing in the scent of ylang-ylang, and realizing your body deserved attention every single day.
That wooden sign on a humid afternoon hadn’t just offered a massage. It had offered a new definition of retirement. And all for fifteen dollars.
Pro Tips
Massage etiquette: Balinese massage could be intense. Say “jangan keras keras” (meaning not too hard) if you want lighter pressure.
Budgeting wellness: About $50 per week covered two massages, a yoga class or two, and fresh juices, less than one massage back home.
Best beach walks: Sunrise or late afternoon on Sanur Beach were cooler, calmer, and perfect for people-watching.
Neighborhood exploring: Venture beyond tourist strips. Residential lanes revealed warungs, tiny cafés, and slices of daily Balinese life.
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