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I have two phones and sleep with both under my pillow.
This is my thought as I read a sign informing me that my current accommodation operates a digital detox policy. I just came from the airport; surely dinner would be the ideal time to catch up on the 16 hours of commute punishment I’ve wasted sitting on the plane. But then – no. If I’m here, I can do it right. I grab a book and go to dinner feeling positively monastic.
So begins my week-long stay at Kamalaya, the world-famous wellness retreat in Koh Samui, Thailand. I’ve come here hoping to scare me out of a flurry of work, an uncharacteristic lack of motivation that has hindered my progress on the novel and screenplay I’m (supposed to) write.
My perception of “welfare retreats” has always been that they are more punishment than pleasure, ascetic portions of raw food rationed between daily coffee enemas. Or something. It doesn’t help that when I ask a friend who recently visited Kamalaya what to expect, she texts a photo of her “schedule” and informs me that “I’ll probably be pretty busy with all the treatments.” Treatments? The schedule? It doesn’t sound like the gentle restorative period of introspection I had envisioned. But she also describes her visit as “life-changing”. So there I go, flip flops and retractable mosquito repellent.
During a pre-arrival consultation on Zoom, I was asked what I wanted to tackle during my stay. I hope Kamalaya can write my book for me, I replied, ha ha. But such is the knowledge about the country that at some level I i am hoping for an experience transcendent enough to galvanize me to produce the next Great British Novel. I also suffer from terrible insomnia, a perennial affliction that often disrupts my work day. Oh, and I had major abdominal surgery less than a year ago; although I’m technically recovered, my body still feels out of sorts. Can they fix this, I wonder.
In light of this, I have entered the Asian Bliss program, designed to promote “a state of physical and mental harmony” through traditional Thai massage, Ayurvedic practices and traditional Chinese medicine. I have also been scheduled for three “life improvement” counseling sessions; I hope they can restore my missing car.
Things start with a bio-endurance scan where I am weighed and measured and advised to eat more protein to increase muscle mass.
And then my schedule begins in earnest, with the first of a dozen or so massages I’ll enjoy over the next seven days. There is a Kati Vasti massage (warm oil is poured on the lower back) and a herbal compress massage; a traditional Thai therapeutic massage to stimulate my “energy pathways” and an Ayurvedic massage ending with a steam room session. It all works for me, an unrepentant slacker, though of course Kamalaya also offers yoga and fitness oriented programs, as well as the obligatory detox and weight loss regimens.
The food is – thankfully – delicious: all low-fat, low-salt, low-sugar, unprocessed and mostly dairy-free. I mostly stick to Thai: coconut curry with seafood, vegan Thais, papaya salad. The facilities are impressive, with multiple pools, a well-equipped gym, Reformer Pilates studio and various meditation spaces. The spa itself offers IV therapy, a hyperbaric oxygen chamber, and an infrared sauna (which I’m surprised to find extremely invigorating).
All of this is typical of the east-meets-west approach to wellness at Kamalaya – although I realize my taste, at least as far as massages are concerned, leans towards Western masochism. I want my thumbs to dig into the muscles, pressure that blurs the line between pleasure and pain. All of this takes place in immaculately-viewed treatment rooms, punctuated by birdsong and the soothing sound of trees swaying gently in the wind. After a few days, gone was the impatient Londoner who on her first day passed a friend who walked too slowly (I was late for one of my massages, you see).
I suspect the way to get the most out of Kamalaya is to go à la carte, or book a minimal program and explore your options once you’re there. I cancel a massage on my last day in favor of a long walk on the beach and cry two out of three life-improvement counseling sessions after seeing the first weirdo—my mentor encouraged me to apologize to my child internal “traumatized” and “display” various, um, things, neither of which seem like the key to getting back on track.
I do not reside, however; I’m in heaven, a plush villa with a private veranda and sea view. And the service: the bar against which all institutions will henceforth be judged—and, I conclude, almost as essential to the experience as any treatment. Freed from the mental burden of taking care of myself, I feel calmer than I have in years.
Alas, no great epiphany. But there is intense R&R. And look, there’s a moment, somewhere around day four or five, when I’m having breakfast overlooking the bay. The sea shines; two butterflies chase each other in my view, framed by swaying trees. It’s so absurdly perfect that I wouldn’t be surprised if it turned out to be one of a kind The Truman ShowBackground produced in style. It occurs to me that of all the people who will ever walk this earth, I am the lucky few who get to see this sight.
Ahem. Maybe I had a little epiphany, after all.
Otegha Uwagba was a guest of Kamalaya Koh Samui (kamalaya.com), where programs start at £1,038 including accommodation, consultations, treatments and activities
