This week has been devoted to personal improvement – on every possible level. And, after seven days of long walks, physio sessions, very few calories on the plate (800 a day) and not a drop of crisp Galician albariño, I do feel like this has been a very worthwhile start-the-year reset. A few years ago, I used to make an annual pilgrimage to Chiva-Som in Hua Hin but somehow ended up migrating to the Barai enclave next door and the annual wellness moment fell off the page. For the past few years, my friend Ruthie has been raving about her trips to the Buchinger Wilhelmi Klinik on the Bodensee and I’ve thought about making the quick journey from Zürich for a week of slimming and refining – but I never quite found the hook. When friends Yolanda and Matt, who like their negronis and rosés as much as I do, did a two-week stint and came back raving about the results, I was nudged a bit closer. But it was only when I had a conversation with my friend Gerd that I got serious about booking: “Have you tried their Andalucia property?” he said “It’s fantastic!”
While the Buchinger brand is all about fasting – they work hard at selling you on the benefits of broth – I thought it best to sample the setup first and go for an easier programme to find my beat. As this is a Germanic arrangement in the south of Spain, it has been right up my strasse/calle. Sunny skies and sunnier staff, but with an underlying foundation of discipline, rigour and a bit of work. The feeling is much more “Klinik” than resort, with plenty of doctors and nurses on hand to take daily measurements, offer advice and regimes, and generally ensure that you’re on the right track; the rooms feel more smart Swiss hospital than Aman or Six Senses. That said, yellow awnings, a lovely pool setup and a “do as much or as little as you want” mentality keep it from feeling too heavy-handed.
While my retreat mates went all-in for treatments of every description, I’ve been doing long walks, attempting to catch up on a stack of mags, finish a book and run the companies that enable me to afford a week of enforced dietary and physical order. And as you will hopefully know, Monocle pays its own way and doesn’t go in for freebies or press trips, so whatever you read on page or screen from the world of hospitality comes with a bill at the end of the service or stay; none of that “pay me because I’m a jumped-up influencer” nonsense in our editorial world.
Sunny skies and sunnier staff, but with an underlying foundation of discipline, rigour and a bit of work
I would give you a day-by-day account of the past week but that feels a bit narcissistic and not so interesting. Also, things got off to a bumpy start when I was struck by a severe pain in the kidney, was instantly whacked onto a morphine drip and taken to hospital. After a speedy scan, the doctor told me that I had a kidney stone that in medical terms was only “slightly smaller than the [nearby] rock of Gibraltar” and that I would need an operation – immediately. Though the hospital looked nice enough, I wasn’t mentally prepared for a general anaesthetic, ultrasound and cameras and hooks fed up my ding-dong, so I called my trusty doctor back in Zürich and we discussed the options. She was also up for the surgery but said that if the pain was managed, I could wait till I was back and it could be dealt with then. It may well have been the fear of the catheter and accompanying apparatus that has kept me pain-free for most of the week but so far, so good. However, be warned, if you’re on my Swiss flight from Málaga today and someone’s writhing in the aisle, it may well be me – but let’s hope not.
If you’re looking for a pre-summer shape-up and shake-down, I can highly recommend Buchinger Wilhelmi. The crowd is mostly Spanish and French, with a few Swissies, Gulfies and Americans; the food is sourced from their own local network and is quite excellent; and everyone plays by the digital-detox rules. Phones are allowed but no calls, Youtubing or Zooming in public; in rooms, doors must be shut so that no one is forced to endure the conference-call pacers roaming around on their terraces.
I had my final consultation with the doctor and shed four kilos in a week. There are some tune-ups that require a bit of effort but we ended our session on an emotional note when she leaned in, gave me a steady look and said, “I would really like to thank you.”
“You’re welcome, I’ve really enjoyed my stay,” I replied.
“No, no, it’s not that,” she said. “When we sent you to hospital and I saw all of your scars everywhere and you later told me that they were from your injuries in Afghanistan, it made me think – a lot. So, I’m saying thank you to you and all the journalists who do what you do. More than ever, the job of proper journalists is vital for all of us.” Needless to say, I sign off today and start this next week with a bouncier spring in my step. Graçias and danke, doctor.