How Otegha Uwagba switched off in Koh Samui

I have two phones, and I sleep with both of them under my pillow.

That’s my thought as I read a sign informing me that my current accommodation operates a digital detox policy. I have only just arrived from the airport; surely dinner would be the ideal time to catch up on the 16 hours of doom-scrolling I’ve missed out on while sitting on the plane. But then – no. If I’m here, I might as well do it properly. I grab a book and head to dinner feeling positively monastic.

So begins my weeklong stay at Kamalaya, the world-renowned wellness retreat in Koh Samui, Thailand. I’ve come here hoping to be jolted out of a work rut, an uncharacteristic lack of motivation that’s throttled my progress on the novel and screenplay I’m (supposed to be) writing.

My perception of “wellness retreats” has always been that they are more punishment than pleasure, ascetic portions of raw food rationed out in between daily coffee enemas. Or something. It doesn’t help that when I ask a friend who has recently visited Kamalaya what to expect, she texts back a photo of her “schedule” and informs me that I’ll “probably be quite busy with all the treatments”. Treatments? Schedule? It doesn’t sound like the gently restorative period of introspection I’d envisioned. But she also describes her visit as “life-changing”. So off I go, flip flops and mosquito repellent in tow.

My perception of wellness retreats has always been that they are more punishment than pleasure

During a pre-arrival Zoom consultation I’d been asked what I wanted to address during my stay. I’m rather hoping Kamalaya can write my book for me, I responded, ha ha. But such is the lore surrounding the place that on some level I am hoping for an experience transcendent enough to galvanise me to produce the next Great British Novel. I also suffer from terrible insomnia, a years-long affliction that often upends my workday. Oh, and I had major abdominal surgery less than a year ago; though I’ve technically recovered, my body still feels out of sorts. Can they fix that, I wonder.

In light of this, I’ve been put on the Asian Bliss programme, designed to foster “a state of physical and mental harmony” through traditional Thai massage, Ayurvedic practices and traditional Chinese medicine. I’ve also been allocated three “life enhancement” mentoring sessions; I’m hopeful they might restore my absent drive.

Things kick off with a bio-impedance scan where I am weighed and measured, and advised to eat more protein to increase my muscle mass.

And then my schedule begins in earnest, with the first of a dozen or so massages I’ll enjoy over the next seven days. There is a Kati Vasti massage (warm oil poured onto your lower back) and a herbal compress massage; a traditional Thai therapeutic massage to stimulate my “energy pathways”, and an Ayurvedic one that ends with a steam room session. That all works for me, an unrepentant sloth, though of course Kamalaya also offers yoga- and fitness-oriented programmes, as well as the obligatory detox and weight-loss regimes.

The food is – thankfully – delicious: all low-fat, low-salt, low-sugar, unprocessed and mostly dairy-free. I largely stick to Thai: seafood coconut curries, vegan pad thais, zingy papaya salads. The facilities are impressive, with multiple pools, a well-equipped gym, Reformer Pilates studio and various meditation spaces. The spa itself offers IV therapy, a hyperbaric oxygen chamber and an infrared sauna (which I’m surprised to find hugely invigorating).

All of this is typical of the east-meets-west approach to wellness at Kamalaya – though I come to understand my taste, at least as far as massages go, veers towards western masochism. I want thumbs digging into muscles, pressure that blurs the line separating pleasure and pain. All of this takes place in immaculate treatment-rooms-with-views, soundtracked by birdsong and the soothing sound of trees moving gently in the breeze. After a few days, gone is the impatient Londoner who on her first day overtook a fellow guest walking too slowly (I was late for one of my massages, you see).

I suspect the way to make the most of Kamalaya is to go à la carte, or book a minimal programme and explore your options once there. I cancel a massage on my final day in favour of a long beach hike, and cry off two of the three life-enhancement mentoring sessions, having found the first rather odd – my mentor encouraged me to apologise to my “traumatised” inner child and “manifest” various, um, things, neither of which feel like the key to getting back on track.

I don’t dwell, though; I am in paradise, a plush villa with a private veranda and sea views. And the service: the bar against which all establishments shall be judged henceforth – and, I conclude, almost as fundamental to the experience as any treatment. Free from the mental load of having to take care of oneself, I feel more relaxed than I have in years.

Alas, there is no major epiphany. But there is intense R&R. And look, there is a moment, somewhere around day four or five, when I am eating breakfast overlooking the bay. The sea shimmers; two butterflies chase each other across my view, framed by swaying trees. It’s so absurdly perfect that I’d be unsurprised if it were revealed to be some sort of Truman Show-style manufactured backdrop. It occurs to me that of all the people who will ever walk this earth, I am among a tiny proportion lucky enough to see this sight. 

Ahem. Perhaps I did have a little epiphany, after all.

Otegha Uwagba was a guest of Kamalaya Koh Samui (kamalaya.com), where programmes start at £1,038 including accommodation, consultations, treatments and activities