No room for dinner!

It’s a whole new take on small plates at this Austrian deluxe fasting and detox retreat

YOU know the thrill you get when you receive a postcard from a friend or relative before the jealousy sets in and you wish you were there... well, how about sending yourself a postcard from your own holidays?

I was on such a high at the luxury Austrian health clinic FX Mayr where I had come to cleanse my gut and mind for a shinier, better me that I sent myself a postcard so as I could relive it once I got home.

FX Mayr sits in the mountainous state of Carinthia not far from the Slovenian border and my home for the week, a marble en-suite, boasted a balcony overlooking the twinkling mansions of Lake Worthersee.

You could almost forget it’s not all play if it wasn’t for the steaming flask of vegetable bouillon and crackers awaiting you on your arrival.

Litle did I know that I’d be begging for these crackers some 48 hours later. As for the boullioun, it would develop into quite the romcom: a true love-hate relationship of reliability, need, resentment and rejection, final embrace. Just as well then that I’d the insurance of a burger from the airport.

After a long journey though I needed a good night’s sleep before getting to work the next day. Picking from the wide-ranging pillow menu, I plumped for a herbal hay kind.

Awaking at dawn to mist over the lake – home to some of the Europe’s most affluent people and with a backdrop of the Eastern Alps and some gorgeous yachts and speedboats – my daily schedule slipped under my door and it appeared I was fully booked for the day: full body massage, blood tests and the all-imporwellbeing, tant first meeting with my appointed doctor for the week.

After a paltry breakfast of a thimbleful of sheep’s milk yoghurt and a dry as the desert buckwheat biscuit – plus one raspberry – and herbal tea, my body played house to a series of pokes, prods and analyses with a finalised prescribed specific detox routine to follow for the week.

AVITAMIN infusion IV drip and refreshing dip in the turquoise lake later (outside in late September it was still a delightfully sizzling 29 degrees), it soon came time for my exercise analysis session with a self-confessed ‘Alpinist’ fitness freak with hair and skin so glowing I couldn’t help but welcome her assessment.

‘We’re young!’ she expressed when I voiced my fears that I’d tarnished my liver to tatters with all my late-night drinking from my 20s to the present. ‘It’s rarely bad to lose a few kg but your BMI is good and you’re fit from your swimming and cycling daily.

She confirmed, to my shock, that I had a fast metabolism (so that’s where the whiskies have been going?) and no excessive water retention.

After a shot of watercress soup at lunch – ate under strict instruction in silence overlooking the water – I attended beauty consultations and lectures on health and indulging in a much- needed mani-pedi and learning about the hotel’s namesake, the Original Mayr Cure.

Franz Xaver Mayr (1875-1965 and I must say – beaming with health vibes in his sepia portrait) began experimenting with dinner cancelling with what became, after decades of trials, the official Cure of ‘no raw after four’ or really, no eating at all in the PM) in Dellach by 1976 under the watchful eyes of Mayr’s top students and health gurus du jour.

Today, the cosy lodge-mansion – and wood frames, carpets, cushiony armchairs, roaring fires and scented candles – draws guests from all over the world to cleanse and reset from the inside out.

Around me were frazzled bankers and real estate agents, musicians, fashion designers and more, and together we came to physically and digitally detox over broth, chess, lake swims and pedalos and hikes through the forest.

On days two and three, I relearned the importance of mindfulness while my shcedule was brimful with appointments spanning shiatsu, lymphatic drainage, mushroom foraging and pilates to tackle the odd attack of hunger or wave of tiredness.

Lecturers reminded us of the importance of silent, slow mastication (that’s chewing to you and me) and gentle exercise: too much running, God forbid, would create too much lactic acid in the stomach – not to mention a likely fainting spell.

I think I let out a small scream on arriving at what I thought was a group pilates class and was in fact a one-on-one session with a handsome young Russian instructor. I felt depleted but planked my way through one agonising hour to save face.

On day four I awoke like a newborn lamb, spritely and bursting with new energy at 6am before gulping down my daily neutralising alkaline powder, magnesium and potassium pills and (yes, double gulp) the Epsom salts to help, ahem, loosen oneself up.

After yoga I bounced, emptier than ever but with boundless energy, to an ortho-bionomy session, where one’s biorhythms and energy points are stimulated and purged.

I felt most disturbed and drained, before the energy levels rose again to godly levels. Days 5 and 6 followed with more soaring energy and a resounding peacefulness.

WE LAUGHED over our now hated broth, smiled at the beauty of the surrounding nature, marvelled at our body’s healing mechanisms but still, I’m not afraid to admit, drooled at the thought of a real dinner.

And for me, Saturday morning’s rainy forest walks – including one memorable chat about steak with a Swiss financial advisor and parttime chef – were fuelled by turmeric soup, crackers and hummus, and I was aghast at how a few tiny bites filled me up.

Make no mistake, this degree of abstinence is not maintainable day to day, forever and ever.

But it’s an interesting path to explore should you find yourself in

need of a reboot or, like some of my fellow guests, in search of answers regarding ongoing health issues.

The sense of dusting out your body and taking time to consider how we fuel, I realised, is underembraced and, with the guidance of the gurus at the Mayr, it’s amazing how good one can come away feeling.

On my last morning, I sat in the sauna after sleeping deeply for what felt like forever (six hours).

A posh Englishman gleefully told a story about his child once being squashed by a vending machine before beaming that he and his wife came every year for an escape, and would be Cure-ing for a further fortnight.

The celebrity fashion designer sat silently with a yoghurt at breakfast, looking more serene and glamorous than any other 80yearold I’ve ever met (bar my fabulous grandmother).

I broke the rules and chatted over my last lunch with a Canadian architect about travel and art, and frankly didn’t want to leave my healthy little cocoon.

I packed and said goodbye before driving to the airport past Lake Bled and the castle feeling on top of the world.