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The morning dew is still sparkling on the blades of grass when an old man in a red sarong shuffles to the far end of the yard behind his house, a traditional Balinese compound in the village of Pengosekan, Ubud. The man’s name is Ketut Liyer, a humble medicine man recently catapulted to fame by Elizabeth Gilbert’s book “Eat Pray Love” and its subsequent film adaptation starring Julia Roberts.

In her book, Gilbert wrote about how Liyer’s spiritual guidance helped transform her life after she got divorced and went on a journey around the world searching for answers. “Eat Pray Love,” of course, went on to become an international best seller — inevitably derided in some quarters as mushy new-age propaganda — and the book’s success has in turn transformed Liyer’s life.

Suddenly, at the ripe age of 95, he has become a local celebrity, the most famous spiritual healer on an island where many people come to seek answers. And since his portrayal on the silver screen last year massaging Julia Roberts’ hands and mind, his star has only risen further.

“Yes, I know her. Elizabeth, and the movie star, Juliesabeth,” Liyer replies absentmindedly in answer to my question, one he has no doubt answered thousands of times before. “Her name is Julia Roberts, father,” says his son, Wayan Latra.

Liyer’s local celebrity status competes with his traditional skills. A small green board in front of his compound describes him as medicine man, healer, painter and palm reader — the fortune-telling is a late addition, courtesy of Gilbert’s book.

Liyer still starts each day as he has for years, with a short walk followed by the placing of a small offering on the open space in front of his house. The daily offering, called saiban , is presented to “the small creatures” of the house, he says, such as the insects and mice scurrying below the floorboards or perhaps the small snake around the corner.

“We have to make peace with any creatures in the house,” he says. “If the small creatures are happy, we are going to be happy as well.

Four generations of Liyers share the family compound. Ketut Liyer is a ninth-generation healer within his family line.

After the ritual of the saiban, Liyer, Latra and Latra’s son bestow more offerings and pray at their family shrines. They believe that the spirits of their ancestors descend and dwell in the shrines, protecting them from evil spirits.

Around 7:30 a.m., as Liyer is having his breakfast, a Balinese family arrives at the compound bearing four baskets brimming with offerings. Liyer then performs a ceremony for the family’s teenage son called bayuhin otonan , a special ritual used to seek spiritual help from the gods that is based on the ancient Balinese calendar.

As Liyer is with the boy, others start arriving to see the healer, including one Australian and some Japanese tourists. They wait patiently in a gazebo for their turn, and at 8:45 a.m., Liyer throws open his private practice. Everyone who comes to see him has to pay Rp 250,000 ($28) for a session.

When I ask Liyer’s first patient of the day, Australian travel director Debbie Carr, why she has come, she says simply, “Curiosity.” She has read “Eat Pray Love” and seen the movie, of course.

After her session, Carr’s verdict is polite. “Well, generally he had only good things to say, so that’s nice,” she says. “I think he really understands people’s feelings.”

Naoko Washizu, a Japanese TV producer from Nagoya who has come with two of her friends, says, “We read the book and watched the movie, then we thought about visiting him.”

On average, Liyer, who has a good command of English, spends 25 minutes with each of his foreign visitors. In contrast to his Balinese clients, he does not chant a mantra, ring holy bells or sprinkle foreigners with holy water. Instead he looks them straight in their eyes, then studies their ears, nose and lips before reading their palms.

The sessions are far from private. They are held on Liyer’s studio terrace, and I don’t have to intrude to hear the conversations.

“You have very strong sexual powers, you know that?” Liyer tells Washizu with a smile on his face. All of his Japanese visitors smile back. “You can do it three times without getting tired,” he proclaims. Naoko giggles in response.

After the early sessions, many more foreigners trickle in to hear his sage advice.

“You will live long, a hundred years,” he tells Filipino Cheryl Ong, which puts a smile on her face.

“We want to feel like Julia Roberts,” says Bernadette Bisoc, another Filipino tourist, with a laugh. After her session, she says simply, “He is interesting. …”

More than curiosity brings Australian Rifan Safron to Liyer’s door. “We asked some people from our hotel if they knew a Balinese healer who could cure my wife’s hand,” he said. “They took us here. We actually didn’t know he was in that movie.”

Unfortunately, Liyer says he can do nothing. “He said he needs special herbs, but he doesn’t have the plant now,” Safron says. “He said it is hard to find it these days.”

By 1:15 p.m., Liyer has seen all of his morning clients. “Take your lunch, father,” Latra urges.

Liyer has just started to eat when two women from Bahrain arrive. “We went to a palm reader in India and we wanted to compare the reading,” says one. They wait 10 minutes for Liyer to finish his lunch, then are ushered in.

Afterward they seem a little disappointed. “I already knew everything he had to say. Nothing new,” one says.

Soon after, four Indonesian women from Jakarta enter. Like the Bahrainis, they see my camera and hesitate, nervously asking that I don’t take pictures or report their names. I ask why, and the answers are surprising. The Indonesians are Christians and are afraid people from their church will criticize them for seeing a traditional healer. The Bahrainis are Muslim and normally cover up in burqas, but they are not wearing them in Bali and a snapshot of them in T-shirts could be disastrous.

Over the rest of the day, Liyer’s sessions get mixed reviews from the steady stream of visitors, usually better when he has good news to impart. Two Brazilians from Sao Paulo say, “We never did this kind of thing before, we just wanted to try.” Afterward they remark, “He is interesting, but we are not impressed with his reading.”

Indonesian Mentik Faiyah is more satisfied with her reading. “It was a good session,” Mentik says. “He said many good things about me and my future. I might have a better life. I’m happy.”

Later in the afternoon, three locals come bearing more offerings. They set up another ceremony to be held the next day for 19-year-old Nyoman Sridiyani, a medical student from Denpasar.

A small note on the gate says that Liyer finishes consulting at 5 p.m. But on the day I am there, his duties keep him busy through to 9:30 p.m., with two more Balinese ceremonies in the evening, more sessions with four girls from Morocco, Estonia and Austria, plus a special session with a Balinese family from a neighboring village.

At the end of the long day, Liyer sits drinking coffee with his family and spends 30 minutes telling stories of his youth, the days of the Dutch and Japanese colonialists, about his father, about Gilbert and how his life has changed.

“There are better healers than I, but they say that I am special because I speak English,” he says. “It gives me a special place among traditional healers.”

Not long after 10 p.m., Liyer walks to his pavilion and softly pulls the door shut. His light stays on, but I am fairly certain he has fallen fast asleep.