A good three hours’ drive from Cochin, near the border of Tamil Nadu, the first sign we see when entering the hallowed grounds of Kalari Kovilakom, reads ‘Leave your world behind’. On arrival, our shoes are duly appropriated (no leather is allowed here) and we are handed our attire for the duration of our stay: a pair of white cotton pyjamas and some flip flops. I suggest another sign: ‘Leave Mr Smith at home’ or at least let him stay in Fort Cochin to devour fresh seafood and curries, while you advance on your own personal odyssey. That is not to say that men aren’t allowed at Kalari or, indeed are anything but encouraged, it’s just that with alcohol, meat and sunbathing usurped by yoga, meditation and a strict vegan diet, this Ayurvedic retreat in Kerala might not be his idea of holiday heaven – for Kalari Kovilakom is serious with a capital ‘S’. As one guest (or patient) put it: ‘If I wanted a spa where the north London ladies-who-lunch go, I’d be at Chiva Som in Thailand.’ However, having arrived with Mr Smith, it seemed churlish to send him packing now.
In fear of sounding off-putting, let me set the record straight. If you’ve indulged in too many Smith holidays, glutting yourself on their romantic, gastronomic and hedonistic ethos, Kalari is the place to purge your former indulgences and set your mind, body and soul straight. A minimum stay of two weeks at this is recommended at this Ayurvedic spa – the resident doctors say that this is the very least amount of time needed to harmonise the body based on the 4,000-year-old Ayurvedic practices for which India, and in particular Kerala, is renowned. I’ll get to the hows and whys in a minute, but think of a stay at Kalari Kovilakom as the ultimate ‘me-time’ experience.
Our new Keralan home is a beautiful former palace built around 1890 by Queen Valiya Thampuratti of Kollengode, restored to perfection by Dutch-German architect, Karl Damschen. It is nestled in eight acres of gardens, including an organic vegetable patch from where all the food for your meals is harvested, a huge stone pond (not for swimming, alas), a temple and a backdrop of mountains. (We get to know it all very well as leaving the grounds is verboten – too much stimulation apparently.) Kalari’s 18 rooms are vast and comfortable with no hint of a spartan ashram-style set up. Polished terracotta floors, heavy teak beds and wooden shutters on the windows induce a feeling of understated luxury, although be warned about closing the shutters – our 5am wake-up call threw us into a panic as the room was still pitch black. In the evenings, the beds are strewn with sweet-smelling petals – a lovely touch. The hallways and open air corridors are fragrant with lemon oil and the whole place exudes calm and quiet, from the strategically placed chairs under the shade of a fig tree (one of India’s holy trees) to wind chimes tinkling in the soft breeze. Wandering around the high-walled garden in our cotton garb is strangely mesmerising. Mobile phones are confined to use in your room but, quite frankly, who needs a reminder of the outside world?
Each day at Kalari follows a regime, elements of which remain the same (getting up at 5.30am and daily yoga sessions for example), but depending completely on what the expert doctors have prescribed for you. On the first day at this Keralan retreat, we undergo a very detailed two-hour assessment to allow doctors to ascertain our holistical wellbeing and – after a couple of days – what dosha we are. You can be one of seven doshas in this ancient system, vata, pitta, kapha, vata-pitta, etc, which symbolise whether you are governed by the elements of air, fire or water. There’s no room for English reticence as questions range from how we feel about our sex life to any recurring dreams we may be having. Our blood pressure, tongue, eyes, heart rate and body alignment are also checked.
Our personal Ayurvedic programme was then designed right down to the water we drink (delivered daily to our room), the food we eat (completely delicious, by the way – served traditionally on a brass tray covered with a banana leaf) and the treatments we receive. The aim, at Kalari Kovilakom, is that you are ultimately ‘reborn’. As lovely as the many Mr & Mrs Smith boutique hotels are, not many can try and lay that claim I’ll wager.
Because our stay is so short, we are unable to undergo the full rebirth, but we do get a hint of things to come from talking to the doctors and other guests. Eating is communal and guests share their stories of what particular process they are undergoing. Some feel incredibly tired, others hungry, others joyful. An international crowd – Romans living in London, Londoners living in New York, Swedes living in Paris – the majority (all but two out of 18) are women, middle-aged, perhaps because the literature claims to be able to slow down the ageing process – the holy grail of many an international western woman. Significant weight loss is also a by-product of your journey (calorie intake is restricted to 1,000) and we hear hushed whispers of how many pounds have been shed. In my time between treatments, I avidly read my novel (no, not by Arundhati Roy, although that would be apt – Tom Wolfe if you must know) naughtily sticking my pale foot in a patch of sunlight while others carry round worthy philosophical tomes. I would have joined them no doubt had our at Kalari stay been longer.
The first few days of your time at Kalari are spent in ‘purification’, using a procedure of ‘oleation’ to soften and make supple your body by filling it both internally and externally with oils. In the mornings a cup of ‘ghee’ is taken (sounds vile, and by all accounts it is – but bear with me), which helps to move the toxins to the gastrointestinal tract. This is supplemented with two treatments a day, mostly massages with oil that smelt like brown sugar or sweating away in a steam bath. You are awarded two therapists for your almost ritualistic treatments (each end with a prayer and a thumb print of sandalwood smeared on your forehead) and it’s almost impossible not to bend to their relaxing will.
Once your body is ready, the process moves on to expelling all the toxins you have spent the last few days dislodging. Depending on your dosha, this is via unbecoming (and intensely un-Chiva Som-like) eliminatory systems of vomiting, purgation, bloodletting with leeches (seriously), diarrhoea (with enemas) or nasal elimination. You’ll have to book in for your two weeks to experience that but by look of the healthy, glowing and energised woman who was leaving Kalari on the same day as us, it’s well worth it. While you’ll spend your time with people who spend their other holidays staying in the most luxurious of places, just don’t expect a boutique hotel. But what this Ayurvedic retreat in Kerala does do is refresh the parts other hotels can’t reach.
