The holiday that’s far better solo? A wellness retreat to India - The Times

The air is as thick and heavy as a damp towel. I can hear a mosquito. A bead of sweat just ran into my ear. My right hip is screaming and my breath unsteady. I’m hating every second of this and will never say yes to another yoga class again. And then, suddenly and entirely unexpectedly, I burst into laughter.

I’m on a spa retreat in Kerala, on my own. I’ve had a very intense few months of work and, like most people, feel as if I’m losing the battle against my phone addiction. I’m after a break, a few days of slowing down, a few mornings of waking up and not immediately checking my emails. Ayurveda, the ancient Indian tradition of medicine, is big in this southernmost state, so it feels a good place for a spot of proper relaxation.

Except here I am, being put through the most intense yoga session of my life by a muscly chap called Rajib. I hate Rajib at first for manipulating me into various positions, but I burst into laughter because, without wishing to sound too Eat Pray Love, as he twists my torso like a pretzel something releases inside me. I stop fussing about my hip and worrying my neck’s going to break and just… breathe. 

My first ayurvedic stop was further north, in a Keralan hotel on the beach where I woke to the sounds of the Arabian Sea crashing on the sand, and the chirp of the golden oriole. Neeleshwar Hermitage has 18 cottages in its garden, strewn with red and yellow hibiscus plants, and mine has an outside bathroom with its own pool. On day one, I reported to the spa for an appointment with smiley Dr Ananya immediately after breakfast and we trotted through a survey. How is my sleep? How are my bowels? Not great, I reply, before quickly clarifying that my sleep isn’t great, but my bowels are fine. Ananya reaches for my right arm across her desk and puts three fingers on my wrist.

According to ayurvedic medicine, we all have three “doshas”, or three different types of energy. There’s vata (air), pitta (fire) and kapha (earth). We all have all three, supposedly, just in different proportions. Trouble comes when they’re out of balance and Ananya tells me mine are imbalanced. I have much more pitta and kapha than vata, she says sternly, having felt my wrist.

Yes, I reply, I do feel pretty stress. 

She suggests two treatments. First, a full-body massage with a “leaf treatment”, which involves lying flat, oiled after a massage, while a poultice of anti-inflammatory herbs is pummelled all over my body. Second, shirodhara, which involves having a steady stream of oil poured over my forehead for 20 minutes. This, supposedly, will help to calm my nervous system, although I manage to spend quite a lot of time worrying that the sesame oil is going to run into my eyes (it doesn’t).

The good thing about doing a spa retreat alone is that there’s nobody to laugh at you when you return to your room slicker than a seal. After both treatments, I shower and revive myself with a curry. That’s the other good thing about being in India alone — you can have a thali for dinner every night, a tray of multiple curries, pickles and breads, without having to share. Let’s not discuss the bathroom. And anyway, as I already said, my bowels are fine. An ayurvedic diet leans towards vegetarian foods but I’m picking and choosing the elements of it that I like on this trip. It’s my trip after all. Restrictive diet, no; oily massages, yes please.

My next spa spot, further down the Keralan coast, is on a lake at the resort Coconut Lagoon. Any scepticism I might have had regarding ayurveda is vanquished when the doctor in the spa here takes my pulse and also tells me I have more pitta and kapha than vata. “You are a go, go, go person?” he suggests.

Yes, I say, ashamed. I am quite a go, go, go person. To help, he suggests another rhythmic, full-body massage, or abhyanga, and after that I’m to sit in what looks like a wardrobe for 15 minutes. It’s an Indian steam box, in which I sit — with my head poking out — sweating profusely. I manage ten minutes before feeling faint and ask to come out. If you’re after relaxing pampering, I’m not sure ayurveda is necessarily for you. It’s hardcore.

I sit at the bar afterwards, rehydrating with a gin and tonic, watching the sun set over Lake Vembanad, overlooked by an Indian flying fox hanging in a nearby palm tree (confusingly, a large bat, not an aerodynamic fox). That’s another boon about coming on any sort of retreat by oneself — if you fancy a stiff and reviving drink after a treatment, there’s no one to make a snide comment. You can also schedule your treatments and go to bed whenever you like. I have a second gin and tonic and totter back to my room for an early night with my book. I manage five books in all. I can’t remember the last time I read so much. Presumably before the invention of the mobile phone.

The final stop is just outside Kochi, at a sensationally pretty villa hotel — Indian Summer House — built around a leafy courtyard, constructed just eight years ago by married couple Don and Mini van de Pol, but which practically feels as if it’s Mogul, with old mossy statues hidden in the garden. It’s Mini’s old family home and she was born in what is now the gym. This is where I come up against the masochist, sorry, I mean yoga instructor, Rajib. I’ve been quite sedentary, this trip, but Rajib seems to intuit that it’s time for physical activity, and starts pulling and bending me into shape.

I won’t be able to walk the following day, I assume, and my dodgy hip will be even worse. I gasp through the session until that sudden burst of laughter. I feel… great, I realise. No, it’s better than that. I feel happy. Am I more relaxed because my vata is now more balanced with my kapha and my pitta, or is it because my screen time has collapsed? It doesn’t matter either way, really, does it? I simply feel less like a raccoon on speed. Sophia Money-Coutts was a guest of InsideAsia which has 11 nights’ B&B on its Classic Kerala (with a twist) trip from £2,385pp, including all transport across India, some private guiding and a range of cultural experiences (insideasiatours.com). Fly to Kochi via Mumbai or Bangalore

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