‘Melt your heart,’ said Simone, the Kiwi sleep therapist, stretching her generous body as elegantly as she was able on the yoga mat. Waves lapped the beach nearby. ‘Glow it violet, then allow the violet to flow up, up, up into your chest, your belly, now your legs and arms…’ Well, I tried, honestly I tried, but my heart stubbornly refused to melt, or even, for that matter, to glow. As sturdy English hearts of oak appeared to be melting all around me, I felt I was rather letting the side down. And as for the violet? Nada.
The beginning and end of this ju-ju ordeal was bracketed by bells tinkled around our heads like some vaguely asiatic-version of a Catholic mass
Faith is at the heart of the health business, but why does no-one call out the Emperor for his déshabillage? This was a ‘wellness resort’ in the island of Hvar, Croatia. And, boy oh boy, Hvar Got Woo-Woo for You. No complaints about the location, though. We were picked up from Split’s spanking new airport by a high-powered launch that raced us at 30 knots for a fuel-hungry, politically incorrect hour through the islands.
Our destination was the Maslina hotel and resort (subtle modernist architecture, mid-century furniture) which is the dream of a French banker’s wife. Mindful luxury was the slogan. The staff, dressed in casual beige and white tennis shoes, were, without exception, good looking, charming and refreshingly unpushy – like friends of the family with PhDs doing a little hospitality work before going trekking in Bhutan. By comparison, our scruffy party had a distinctly Gatwick feel about it.
But we were here to work – on our wellness, of course – and this was after all an intensive Sleep Therapy week. My hyperactive wife was determined that I should come, as – being a nine hour a night man, quite capable of a solid two hour nap soon after breakfast – she thought I might be able to teach our hosts a thing or two. ‘Sleeping is his superpower,’ she explained.
Though a natural sceptic, I am also an experienced connoisseur of free trips. The prospect of five nights in a €1,000 hotel room with hot and cold running servants and perma-sun seemed a fair swap for escape from the UK’s joke summer and the minor irritation of a bit of wellness training.
Things started badly for the professionally inactive, however. On day one, we were made to take bicycles on a 8km trek up Hvar’s mountainous interior. They were electric ones, of course, but not so electric that I didn’t have to pedal. Our reward was a lunch of octopus carpaccio and a sort of Croatian bouillabaisse in a secret location high in the hills.
There is no such thing as a free lunch, however, and the bill was paid in a ‘guided meditation’. As pony-tailed son-of-the-house, Damien, banged his gongs, I managed to disgrace myself by snoring not long after the first instruction to breathe deeply. I’ve since heard that both I and it went on for quite a long time. To my relief, there was a taxi home.
The next day, I dodged the dawn yoga, to get in a full breakfast and lunch – fortification for two hours of Adriatic Rejuvenation Treatment (€350) in the Pharomatiq Wellness Centre. A bit of woo-woo bureaucracy preceded this ordeal involving ticking the boxes on what one wanted from the ‘treatment’. Longevity, perhaps, Vitality, or even Serenity? (There being no box for ‘All of the above’, I longed to know how the forthcoming massage would vary as a result of my choices).
Then it was off to an elegantly black-walled massage room where, clad only in a paper jockstrap and scrubbed with exfoliating herbs (handpicked, natch), I was plunged into a lavender bath – scratchy in one’s crevices – before some serious massage violence began for hour two: the plink-plonking of panpipes on the speakers accompanying the torture like Peruvian lift music.As with our meditation, the beginning and end of this ju-ju ordeal was bracketed by bells tinkled around our heads like some vaguely asiatic-version of a Catholic mass.
Barely had I recovered from this half pleasurable, half painful experience with some R&R round the pool, than we were once again summoned by bells for Damien’s Sound Bath therapy. I was assured that my regular and even snoring provided an unexpected contrapuntal basso-profundo that both complemented and complimented the resonating vibes.
And that – heart-melting final day crescendo – was more or less that. Our last night, we went into Stari Grad, the Old Town, founded circa 385BC, and ate at the delicious Blue Doors restaurant. And for the first time in four healthy, mindful days, I allowed myself a drink. Maybe it was that, or the reassuring knowledge that mine host was not going to list the seasonal, local and curative powers of our food, that meant I slept that night like a king.
Maslina Resort has a four-night Lavender Sleep Retreat with all activities included and prices starting from €4,870 per person based on two people sharing a Garden Room, on a half-board basis (breakfast and dinners) including one Seaside Dining Dinner and return speedboat transfers from Split to Stari Grad on Hvar Island. Contact details: Maslina Resort, relax@maslinaresort, www.maslinaresort.com
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