I am used to waking up in a five-star hotel or a cell. A plasma TV emitting
BBC World, an Arctic gale howling from the air-conditioning, and a huge bed
covered with fat, feathery pillows indicated that I was in the former. A
second knock hit the door with gentle impatience. “Namaskar,”
said an Indian staff member carrying a Chinese teapot full of hot ginger and
lemon tea.
I began to realise where I was and what I was doing — just south of the
tropics, where rum, reggae, and reefer were plentiful, and tobacco cost next
to nothing, where the cuisine was a mixture of European, African and Indian
excellence, where wine and champagne flowed from every bar and restaurant.
Why had I masochisti-cally agreed to embark on a detox programme? I must
have been out of my mind.
“Toxic” lies at the heart of intoxication, so I happily accept that getting
high induces hangovers. Even if my favourite poison is poisonous, it has
been a fair trade so far. Nevertheless, my constant coughing was beginning
to lose its novelty and drive most of my companions around the bend.
I walked out of my ocean-view suite in Mauritius’s new spa hotel, the Shanti
Ananda Maurice. A few yards to my right, the blue-green waters of the Indian
Ocean lapped languidly on to the beach. A little farther, just beyond a few
fishing boats, mighty walls of water crashed over a coral reef. To my left,
dozens of colourfully clad gardeners worked the luscious gardens. Strolling
along a wide path flanked by infinity pools, tea pavilions, flowers,
fountains, and statues, I entered the massive spa area for my first
appointment with the doctor.
Strangely comforted by the presence of a stethoscope in his consulting room, I
sensed him smelling me and concentrating on my voice’s variations. I
answered his questions truthfully - every day I smoke more than 20
cigarettes and drink at least a bottle of wine. Most of all, I want to keep
my lifestyle, but stop coughing.
Thinking I would be immediately clamped into a straitjacket and isolated from
the hedonistic universe I had spent a lifetime creating, I was ecstatic to
hear I could carry on drinking (in moderation), provided I cut my cigarette
smoking down to five a day, followed a prescribed diet, did some yoga and
exercise, and undertook appropriate therapies.
Clearly, I had not appreciated the differences between suffering cold turkey
and detoxing. Although I was probably sharing accommodation with some
well-heeled celebrities barely giving up their habits, my hosts were not
employees of the Priory; they were doctors, yoga masters, and therapists
from Kerala, whose efforts have enabled the hotel’s forerunner, the
Himalayan retreat of the Ananda Spa, to be voted one of the best destination
spas in the world by several travel magazines. The likelihood of bumping
into Victoria Beckham was greater than that of spotting frontmen from
Babyshambles or the Darkness.
The doctor’s other questions ranged from details of my bowel movements and
dreams, to my preference for music or clothes. On this basis, he diagnosed
my body constitution type according to the principles of Ayurveda, a
5,000-year-old living encyclopaedia of diet, healing and health, which
though Eastern in origin is ideally suited to contemporary Western
application.
Ayurveda considers balancing of food, breath, exercise, sleep and relaxation
to be of the greatest importance, and any imbalance manifests its symptoms
as discomfort, disease or dysfunction. Thousands of years of research and
practice have convinced Ayurvedic practitioners that foods such as beans,
fruits, grains, herbs, roots and vegetables are vital for balance, but must
be used in conjunction with the individual’s living conditions and bodily
constitution.
I was diagnosed as a kapha (rather than a pitta or a vata),
then given a list of treatments. Already feeling ten times healthier, I
ventured to the restaurant for my first meal. I had expected to find an
establishment similar to the Hare Krishna one in Soho. Instead, I walked
into a full-on Sicilian restaurant next to an enormous bar. Around the
corner, a Mauritian restaurant served Creole and Indian cuisine.
I said, “Kapha and a glass of red wine, please,” heeding the doctor’s
understanding. A fruit and vegetable juice tore through my bronchioles,
making my eyes water. Then the waiter served a soup of gently seasoned split
lentils followed by a masala dosa, a hot and crispy thin crepe made with an
airy batter of fermented ground rice and filled with delicately spiced
mashed potatoes and peas. Cardamom ice-cream provided the perfect final
touch. It was the first meal I can remember that energised (rather than
almost floored) me.
The Shanti Ananda staff do not segregate those pursuing health with rigid
ascetic discipline from those seeking to get wankered on the finest red wine
and champagne. Although one couldn’t smoke inside, there were outside tables
overlooking the Indian Ocean to which waiters would bring ashtrays on
request. I smoked almost half of my daily allowance looking at birds,
flowers, waves and fishermen.
Still sprightly, I went to the spa and secured an immediate treatment of watsu,
where I lay, in a crucifixion position, in a pool of hot salted water while
a therapist from Kerala stretched my muscles and prodded his fingers into my
body. Although I felt exhausted when it finished, my body tingled as I went
for my final treatment of the day, shirod-hara, during which prepared
warm essences continuously run on to the forehead while the scalp is
massaged.
“I could easily get used to this,” I thought as I ambled along the beach. Back
at my suite, the bath had been prepared with soothing oils and infusions.
The bullfrogs lost their bashfulness and belched out a “Good night”. I slept
soundly and deeply, knowing that I would definitely be up for yoga in the
morning.
With every conceivable five-star luxury and technology, detoxing at the Shanti
Ananda is fascinating, fun and enjoyable. This was the first time I had
stayed at a hotel for four nights without being tempted to leave.
I’m home now with no idea how long my significantly healthier feeling will
last. Although I know what’s good for me and what’s not, I’m bound to slip
up eventually. Still, I can go back. One doesn’t have to retox to detox, but
it might help.
Need to know
Howard Marks travelled with Saga Holidays (0800 5593961, www.saga.co.uk)
and Air Mauritius (020-7434 4375, www.airmauritius.com).
Saga offers seven nights’ B&B at Shanti Ananda Maurice from
£1,864pp, based on two sharing a Junior Ocean Suite, including flights (www.shantiananda.com).
