There is something about being mentally and physically laid bare, scrubbed, cleansed, massaged, poked, prodded and reconfigured that appeals to me.

I have always been interested in holistic wellness. My Grandmother was years ahead of the wellness boom: she drank flaxseed oil, practised Tai Chi, put calendula on grazed knees and hooked me up to her TENS machine whenever I had a cold. She loved apple cider vinegar, always walked the beach with her shoes off, and shopped for produce locally. A hot bath and some Rescue Remedy was her panacea for all kinds of ills.

It’s probably why I’m drawn to the idea of a retreat; someplace far away that’s entirely dedicated to self. I’ll willingly submit to institutionalisation if it means I’m going to feel lighter, calmer and clearer after the fact.

As far as retreats go, few hit a higher frequency than RakXa. Geographically it’s in Bangkok, but the grounds are an hour out of the city, on the island of Bang Krachao. It’s often referred to as the city’s ‘green lung’ — quiet, lush, an oasis. If it weren’t for the skyscraper skyline in the distance, you could be anywhere in the world.

I’m booked in for the RakXa Rebalance programme, a signature stay designed to bring your health back to equilibrium. In six days, it promises to “rebalance your physical and mental stability, brain and body coordination, chakra alignment, the flow of vital energy, gut-brain axis and overall health.” The itinerary is pre-planned, but everything is customisable. Depending on your preferences, you can keep things as soft or hardcore as you like: there’s IV drips, physio, aesthetic treatments, colon therapy, bloodwork, Pilates, but also energy healing, meditation, traditional Chinese medicine, Thai medicine and Ayurvedic rituals. RakXa is also a partner of the renowned Bumrungrad hospital, so every single thing is monitored by doctors.

My main goal is to relax, really (the ultimate indulgence). But I also want to fix mindless phone scrolling habits, undo some of the chronic tightness around my back and shoulders, while clearing out the junk in my brain to set me up for a nourishing 2025. Before my arrival, I filled in a detailed questionnaire that dug deep into my physical and mental state, while simultaneously getting focused on what I hoped to get out of my stay — am I tense, tired, sad, an insomniac? Bloated? Anxious? In need of physical rehabilitation? Dealing with chronic illness? Looking for a holistic way to optimise my hormone health? Maybe I just want to bookend pool time with massages and saunas. There’s something for everyone, and no matter your reason for booking, the RakXa method is built around the intersections of exercise, nutrition, rest, restoration and stress management.

I landed on a smoggy but comfortable Sunday evening, Bangkok’s coolest winter in 20 years. The airport was overstimulating and the traffic heavy, but one black car ride later, I arrived. At RakXa, there’s no real check in — the only formality is handing over your passport. From that point a welcome drink (there’s over 200 tea blends on site) and sound bath carry me to dinner, before I fall into a magnesium bath and then bed. The rooms are neutral, airy, spacious. Luxurious but not in a grandiose way. An interior palette cleanser that feels like home, but nicer. My villa, lucky 39, was surrounded by its own garden with birds in the trees and a private meditation spot in the corner. Back inside, the pillows were even tailored to my preference (side sleeper, always).

The first day begins with a stream of consultations and appointments. I see the wellness coordinator who tailors my programme, a doctor who checks my vital signs before querying anything that might affect my itinerary. Every single symptom was attended to – the opposite of medical gaslighting. At this point, a lot of guests opt in for additional testing: hormone panels, common cancer markers, immune function, food sensitivities, biological age as per telomere length… It’s all part of RakXa’s longevity medical diagnostic offering. My afternoon looked like functional fitness exams, 90 minutes of deep tissue massage (so deep my eyes watered, but in a good way) and a meditation with my Ayurvedic doctor, Smita. I was fidgety and uncomfortable, and she called me out on it. After 10 minutes we stopped to focus on proper diaphragmatic breathing techniques. She took my pulse, but it was like she could read my mind. “You're a Vata, air and space, just a small amount of fire. You are very in your head, lots of thoughts all the time”. The Vata Dosha, according to Ayurveda, is lean, dry and tends to run cold (cold was a common theme in my stay — a cold womb, cold feet, cold hands). She made me yell to open my throat chakra (as a people pleaser who has a hard time speaking their mind, I found this really uncomfortable). Her prescription was oil pulling in the morning (swishing oil around your mouth to draw out bacteria accumulated overnight) and mindfulness, ideally meditation but journaling would do. Warm baths for my feet, but a cold compress on my head. Her parting words, "when you wake up in the morning don't reach for that little monster".

I mused over this at dinner, four courses of incredible anti-inflammatory, dairy-free food including meat, dessert and kombucha served in stemmed glassware. Meals at RakXa’s restaurant are really the only time you encounter guests — it’s organised in a way that you soak up your own solitude. I love being alone, so it didn’t bother me, but you’re also welcome to stay as a pair. The client mix at RakXa is quite diverse: burnt out corporates, recovering cancer patients, athletes, spa chasers, post-party people looking to detox. Also, friends and couples seeking a vacation that’s not just sun-dappled indulgence. Jenny, RakXa’s head of marketing, told me that young people especially are choosing meditation, movement and mindfulness over hedonistic holidays. Call it the wellness tourism movement. Interestingly the retreat opened during the pandemic, and the clientele have been getting increasingly younger since (a sign of the times, where preventative medicine and the urge to disconnect are more and more of a priority).

Over the next few days, I put my mind and body through its paces: massage, sauna, cold plunging, physiotherapy and magnetic muscle stimulation, fascia release, stretching, suspension therapy, animal flow yoga, private Tai Chi and an hour in a hyperbaric chamber where you breathe pure oxygen at high pressure. It was intensive but restorative and made me think about seemingly insignificant daily habits that compound, reappearing in my body as muscle tightness (scrolling, slouching, working from a Pierre Jeanerette chair). Outside of bi-weekly yoga or Pilates, I never, ever stretch. Not only is this bad for mobility and comfort but can contribute to poor circulation and lymphatic drainage.

I was also booked in for a consultation with Teeraveepanat Phungkhuankhun or Dr. Rose, a Traditional Thai Medicine Doctor. Traditional Thai Medicine states that humans are made up of four primary elements: earth, water, wind and fire. We all have a unique mix that determines our physicality, emotions and predisposition to certain conditions, but also our dreams, thoughts and desires. It’s called elemental theory.

My dominating element was wind, or lom (very close to my Ayurvedic dosha Vata, or air and space). It’s characterised by lightness, dryness and mobility, and represents movement within the body. My lom was unbalanced with fire, or fai, manifesting as digestive issues, easily disrupted emotions, coldness in the lower half of my body, but excessive heat on top. This was interesting to me as the elements are directly correlated to star signs. I’m an Aries, typically a very confident and dominating fire sign, but while ambitious, I’m not assertive at all. Dr. Rose prescribed me a bedtime no later than 10pm, peppermint oil on my abdomen and meditation, again. She also suggested a Thai Salt Pot massage and a women's health massage to stimulate circulation and digestion, while increasing blood flow to the uterus. Abdominal massage is interesting; it feels as if your organs are being moved and manipulated (I think they are?). The Thai salt pot involves heating medicinal herbs and salt in a clay pot, before rolling it over muscles to stimulate lom in a downwards motion, shift stagnant energy and relieve tension. After the 80-minute treatment, I felt relaxed but also completely exhausted. The diagnosis also made a lot of sense. Whether you believe in Ayurveda, Thai Medicine, Traditional Chinese Medicine or otherwise, each modality is centred on the idea that when we are out of balance, symptoms we are predisposed to present themselves. I’m someone who worries a lot, and when it’s at its worst I’ll feel sluggish, self-conscious, cold, and irritable. I used to think that this was just my reality, but the consult taught me that it’s not about removing triggers from your life, but course-correcting through prescribed rituals, such as an abdominal massage with peppermint oil, meditation (I really need to do this) or eating warm foods in silence instead of at my desk.

“I’ll willingly submit to institutionalisation if it means I’m going to feel lighter, calmer and clearer after the fact.” 

Every day was closed out with at least eight hours of sleep. The kind so restorative it feels productive, like things are being sorted out on the inside. I made a point to not use my phone before bed, instead reading or literally just closing my eyes. The difference in how rested I felt was palpable. Waking up was easy; I didn’t need caffeine (mind you, it’s allowed) or blue light. I hope I can hold onto the habit at home and see coffee as a ritual and not a replacement for sleep, or excessive caffeine consumption as a form of exercise.

By day six, I felt lighter and extremely present; I noticed what was happening around me. I was buoyant and my brain felt clear. It’s extremely indulgent to take time off in the name of wellness (especially if you are otherwise in good health), but I can’t pretend it wasn’t transformative. As soon as Ianded back in Sydney, I drank three martinis and inhaled a bowl of pasta. The way I felt the following morning is proof the RakXa method really works. It’s paradise, a circuit breaker. A case for making your next trip one dedicated to your health.