‘The monkey ate my minibar snacks’ may sound like the Balinese equivalent of ‘the dog ate my homework’ but it’s an excuse I found myself administering to the reception staff as I checked out of Umana Bali. Fortunately, this isn’t an unusual occurrence at this LXR Hotels property, where the local macaques have learned how to open cupboards and can often be seen sitting in hibiscus trees with an open bag of nuts, looking smug.

They’ve learned quickly too. Umana is a new kid on the block in terms of the Indonesian island’s hotel scene, having opened in 2023, and it feels it. Eschewing Bali’s traditional low-slung, wood-and-stone architecture for something a lot more modern, the lobby, which is open to the elements, is shiny and vast, while the Lohma Spa is a Brutalist-inspired maze of paths and bridges (and the locus of a fantastic massage – Balinese, of course).

The villas, with their abundance of marble and wood and blue-and-grey colour scheme, feel as polished as Manhattan townhouses. At 3,100 square feet, our one-bed could comfortably fit a family of four. The bedroom opens directly onto an infinity pool, overhung by a frangipani tree which scatters its candy-coloured blooms into the water. Some 200ft above the ocean, it’s quiet enough to hear the breaking waves.

Hotels always try to sell villas as ‘destinations within themselves’, but, in truth, I’ve never stayed anywhere where I’d rather be in my room than out and about. At Umana, the villa became our accommodation, entertainment and even restaurant the morning the hotel brought us a ‘floating breakfast’ on a wicker tray (mandatory content for influencers in the tropics, but almost impossible to actually eat off, we discovered).

While, in some ways, Umana is the glossy, high-specification answer to Bali’s increasingly upscale tourism sector, in others it feels more authentic than some of the koi pond-filled hotels I stayed in during my time on the island. Umana’s homages to Balinese Hinduism, which is its own faction of the religion, are thoughtful and deliberate: in the lobby, a chandelier echoes the fanning motion of the traditional Legong dance, and two statues are made from Kepeng coins, which are often used in ceremonies. The hotel is themed around the Tri Hita Karana philosophy, which is predicated on the relationship between humans, nature and the divine. This doesn’t feel like meaningless PR speak, because spirituality seeps into every aspect of Balinese life; even the remotest of backwater villages are home to elaborate temples made of basalt rock (Umana has two).

This portion of our trip was sandwiched between stays in Ubud and Seminyak – both well-known hotspots. Despite the availability of cultural tours around the local area, Umana’s position on the Bukit Peninsula felt like something of a no-man’s land. The hotel’s local beach, Melasti Beach, looks beautiful when peered at from Umana’s clifftop position, but it’s not really an attraction – while a couple of beach clubs draw modest crowds, no one sunbathes, and thanks to coral reefs that come right up to the shoreline, you certainly can’t swim there. Umana’s communal infinity pool is a far more alluring prospect.

It’s a 20 minute moped ride to Uluwatu, which feels more like the type of destination one would typically associate with Bali. The village clings to the cliff, meaning that you reach the beach via a snaking network of hairpin streets lined with graffitied bars crowded with bronzed Australians hoisting surfboards over their heads. The vertical topography makes for countless vantage points from which to watch pinprick surfers riding the waves.

One morning, one of Umana’s friendly staff took us on a walk around the local area. What started positively – striding down sun-dappled paths trailed by a gaggle of stray dogs – soon descended to smoggy main roads. The excursion did, however, encompass a traditional Balinese house, which was less of a house in the way that we in the West understand it and more of a series of richly-engraved, open-plan pavilions in monstera-filled gardens scattered with canang sari, offerings of flowers and incense made to Hindu gods. The house’s owner explained that she makes 100 of these per week over klepon (bright green sticky rice balls filled with palm sugar) and coffee.

Bali is famous for coffee, and not just kopi luwak – the stuff made from beans that have been partially digested and excreted by a small mammal called a civet. A coffee tasting at Umana yielded the intensity of single-origin espresso and the intricacy of various pour-over blends.

Food is also a big deal at Umana. Commune, the all-day dining option, serves Indonesian delights wrapped in banana leaves as well as pan-Asian specialities, and puts on a breakfast spread encompassing everything from sushi to croissants with basil pineapple jam. The hotel’s signature restaurant, Oliverra, is a fantastic vantage point for sunset, where you can watch the sky turn from baby blue to coral pink and then blazing orange before plunging you into candlelit darkness. At this point, it’s time to settle in for a set menu comprising burnt barramundi, hokkaido scallops and striploin from the charcoal grill.

The food was hard to fault, but couldn’t quite rival the experience of preparing and eating our own sate lilit during a cooking class with one of Umana’s chefs. Balinese sate (satay), by the way, has nothing to do with peanut sauce – the word actually refers to the skewer that the meat is cooked on. Into a bowl went lemongrass, turmeric, ginger, galangal, kefir lime, palm sugar and chilli, which was then mixed with minced chicken, worked onto the skewers and cooked over charcoal. Exceptional.

From the moment you arrive at Umana and the staff tuck a frangipani flower behind your ear, the hotel curates a luxuriously end-to-end experience. What Umana lacks in local attractions it makes up for with enough on-site activities (and in-suite relaxation) to convince the most overzealous traveller to stay in and languish.

From £519 per night, hilton.com

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