The Daily Telegraph - Saturday - Travel
‘There is no nicer place to feel menopausal’
Tired, stressed and with low energy, Sharon Walker headed to Kamalaya Koh Samui to try out a new programme promoting wellness for women
Put out your tongue. Hmmm, very red,” said Sally, my no-nonsense acupuncturist. Healthy tongues are pink, red is a sign of too much inflammation. Also, my yin and yang were off kilter. “In menopause, your feminine energy is low, so your body might contain heat and you may feel hot flashes, you may feel moody and uncomfortable because your body is not balanced.”
Moments later I was covered in needles, and a bunch of herbs smouldered on my belly, sending up plumes of smoke. Were they saying: “HELP ME!”? It would make sense, but this was moxibustion, intended to clear away the heat and aid detoxification.
The mysterious ways of Chinese medicine were beyond the realms of my understanding, but I couldn’t argue with Sally’s assessment. I had been feeling moody, tired, unbalanced; or as some – my boyfriend for a start – might say, grumpy. Sleep had become something that I used to do in some past life, and my belly was a bubbling cauldron of anxiety. I’d tried lavender oil, weighted blankets, probiotic yoghurt drinks, HRT patches. Nothing worked. But now, finally, I could outsource
I felt nauseous, as if she had dislodged several rounds of tequila stuck inside me since the 1980s
the problem, because I had come for the new Radiant Bliss programme for women’s wellbeing at the famous Thai spa retreat Kamalaya – and I had not just Sally, but a legion of world-class experts working tirelessly to rebalance my yin and yang and to help me weather the highs and lows of the menopausal rollercoaster.
There couldn’t be a nicer place to be feeling menopausal. Kamalaya is built on a sacred hill and the grounds are dotted with Buddhist and Hindu temples; there is even a monks’ meditation cave filled with offerings, and you are never far from the soothing sound of running water. Thai-style thatchroofed villas and pavilions disappear into a lush, jungle-like garden of ferns, banana palms and giant boulders. At night it is lit by lanterns trailing Spanish moss. Everywhere you go the yellow-suited staff light up and greet you with a smile and a bow, hands together as if in prayer, “Sah-wah-dee kah”.
I had arrived in this island paradise on the quiet south side of Koh Samui, Thailand, two days previously and was immediately drawn into Kamalaya’s warm embrace with a flurry of essential oil-infused cold towels and a cooling drink of butterfly pea juice; they had already anticipated my every need and that was before I had even met Tara, my personal wellness coach and naturopath.
Tara swooped in like Mary Poppins to the rescue, tailoring the programme to suit my needs. My goals, we established, were to tackle my gut and hormonal issues, to get a decent night’s sleep and, if they could help me get back into my favourite trousers, all the better. The mood turned briefly dark when Tara gave me the results from my bioimpedance analysis, which measures body composition. I had gained six kilos in as many months and at .82 my waist-to-hip ratio was tipping into the danger zone, which could leave me prone to cancer and heart disease. That’s another great thing about the menopause – as oestrogen drops off, women tend to lose muscle and gain fat, while digestion slows down, which can lead to gut issues, like increased gas and constipation. It’s no wonder we feel grumpy. Stress was adding to my problems.
“That could be why your body is holding on to fat at the moment – but it’s not too bad,” Tara said brightly, as she handed me my assessment. “Usually I’m writing long lists of recommendations.” I did my best not to cry when she prescribed the ideal weight programme. I’d heard that the food at Kamalaya was heaven and I was in no mood for a starvation diet but, like all the best guardian angels, Tara was sweet but firm. She went on to write what seemed suspiciously very much like a long list of recommendations, putting a big cross on the daily holistic schedule next to pranayama (breathing) and yoga. “You need to concentrate on these activities, to bring down your stress hormones.”
And so my rehabilitation began, the days starting with a glass of cleansing warm water and lime juice and the chorus of birdsong on my balcony. At 7.45 I would trek across to the open-air yoga pavilion among the cluster of fitness rooms. It was here, looking out to the lush, jungle-fringed coastline below that I learned to breathe – really breathe. Breathing is a serious business at Kamalaya; they have a whole hall dedicated to it (the Prana Pavilion). I learnt the different ways we can use our breath to calm our mind and energise the body. I even had a one-on-one pranayama breathing lesson with my life mentor, Praveena.
If Tara was the guardian angel of my body, Praveena was the keeper of my soul. A former monk of 23 years and a trained psychotherapist with twinkling eyes, she had an uncanny knack of cutting right through to the heart of any issue and gave me wise, easy-to-follow advice.
For the treatments, of which there were two or three a day, I headed to the alfresco Wellness Reception; this is the engine room of the spa, with the treatment rooms staggered up the hillside. At first, I felt I was scaling Everest as I followed my therapist up, but the trek was always worth it. My programme began with a foot soak and massage, to help me sleep and offset the jet lag and, oh my goodness, what a dream it was. Similarly, the Chi Nei Tsang (internal organ massage) was a revelation as my therapist, Yu, unravelled the knots buried deep in my gut.
Afterwards, I felt suddenly nauseous, as if she had dislodged several rounds of tequila that had been stuck in there since the 1980s. The elimination process was swift and dramatic, but I soon felt lighter and clear-headed. In a repeat of the same treatment three days later, my gut was noticeably less tender, and the hand massage that followed was possibly the best hour of my life.
Tara explained that treatments are designed to build on each other. “We start by relaxing and grounding you, then we work on the physical, mental and emotional.” The programme switches between Western functional medicine, with naturopathy, vitamin supplements and IV infusions, and traditional medicine that works to bring the five elements (water, wood, fire, earth and metal) back into balance. So, one minute I was hooked up to a drip topping up my magnesium for better sleep, the next flames flickered across my belly in an ancient Thai herbal medicine treatment to improve digestion.
Even the Ideal Weight menu was a pleasant surprise and far from the hardship I’d imagined. At breakfast in the open-air Soma restaurant looking out over the treetops filled with dancing butterflies, I could help myself to tropical fruit, detox muesli, a lavish salad bar and order eggs (for extra protein). At lunch we headed to a private dining “sala” at the Amrita (Sanskrit for “divine nectar”) Cafe, overlooking the gorgeous blue-green pool and beach, for Detox Som Tam green papaya salad and an added “protein portion”’ of prawns, chicken breast, squid or even ostrich. Tara had encouraged me to eat these at every meal if I could, as our bodies need more protein in midlife.
Over the week I met an incredible array of people, and one of the favourite topics around the communal dining table was the pros and cons of different wellness resorts. Some spas, I learnt, encourage you to chew like a cow, while laughing at dinner is strictly verboten. Others will startle you out of bed to march you up mountains at the crack of dawn. Then there are those that persuade you that you need to spend thousands of pounds on aesthetic “enhancement”. I’m sure it all works for some, but Kamalaya’s nurturing softly, softly ethos is perhaps the one people respond to best. It is certainly a good place to come if you have been feeling battered by life and need putting back together.
It is no surprise to learn that 40 per cent of guests are repeat customers. Often they come to lose weight, but leave changed on a deeper level. I lost two and a half kilos (five pounds) in a week, but deeper shifts had definitely gone on. My sleep had improved and even my tongue had lost its coat, a sign that my digestive system had perked up. Tara told me I looked rosy.
It’s a cliché to say I felt renewed, but I did. I came away feeling that I had had a proper holiday and revived my spirit in the process.