The Best Actress Oscar went to Hilary Swank—and my lost bets to the casino the night before. But, perusing the extensive treatment menu, a sampling of the best from Egypt, Indonesia, Thailand, India, Bali and American Indian cultures, I know that I can recover from my losses, and that serenity is indeed achievable in the land of Cirque du Soleil and ghosts of the Rat Pack.

My choice: the Bali Jamu Massage, a 70-minute, $200 “meditative” treatment combining Hindu, Chinese and European techniques to invigorate muscles and increase blood circulation, which promises to be a gentle, all-body-parts pummel-fest. My Balinese technician begins with a firm dry compression on pressure points, and in three minutes flat, my mental to-do list evaporates. (Spa Tip: If the massage, like this one, is really good, one finds it impossible to multi-task. And that is a good thing.) We then progress to 45 minutes of exotic muscle-soothing moves I’ve never heard of—thumb-walking, skin rolling, percussion, wringing—one blending into another, all sublime. Eyes closed, mind soothed, I begin to see shapes and colors in my head instead of what’s usually there, and this is a revelation: My mind isn’t just a repository of Broadway musical minutiae and closet-organizing skills—it’s a rainbow!

Halfway through, Bali flower tropical massage oil is applied for long-stroke massage bliss. During this part I am gently stretched, so relaxed that I find my arm happily in a pretzellike position it’s never been in before. Is it still attached to my body? Who cares? “You are so flexible,” my technician says, as one leg is stretched to the opposite wall, out the door and past the front desk. For a fleeting moment, Olympic gymnastics floor exercise glory seems a possibility. A back scrub is the finishing flourish, with a practically edible concoction of fresh coconut, rice and vetiver (an essential oil derived from Asian tall grass), which banishes dead cells and leaves my back, like the rest of me, moisturized and supple. Too soon, with a parting orchid and a respectful bow, it’s over.

Feeling calm, centered and gently energized at the same time, I float past the front desk and out the door to the nearest roulette table. In this dreamlike state, I plunk down a tiny sum . . . and win. Buoyed, I repair to my room for a nap—balanced in mind, body and bank account at last. Viva Las Treatments!

—Mary Alice Kellogg