Sick of it

Part of the traditional Kerala mural in the main resort building

You may have stumbled across this blog thinking it was just another travelogue, so I should explain that it is a record of my stay at a specialist resort in Kerala – ayurvedayogavilla.com. Panchakarma is the name of the 28-day programme that I have embarked on. In essence it involves a serious of treatments linked to diet, medication, treatments such as massage, yoga and what is loosely called “lifestyle.” The first stage – as I’ve described – involved the ghee, then there was a respite for 3 days of oil-massage but all of this was a mere prelude to the crucial process of vomit therapy.

Here I will respond to the requests that some of you have already made and spare you the most gruesome details. So, in a much sanitised summary, this is what happened after I arrived, bleary-eyed, at the treatment centre at 5 am. It started with a gentle stomach massage, alternating with having a pipe of warm steam played across my middle to relax and soften the skin. Then I was taken through to an adjacent room, sat on a low stool and encouraged to drink a huge quantity of full-cream, warm milk, - several litres – followed by some herbal medicine and finally glass after glass of strong brine. What followed needs no explanation.

The whole process lasted a good hour, and was a slow and steady build-up of self-inflicted discomfort. Remember that my only food for the previous 3 days had been 9 small bowls of rice in milk, and you can appreciate that it is no exaggeration to say that when the process was complete I felt very light and very empty. I staggered back to my room; luxuriated under a hot shower until the memory was washed away. Then I went to bed and slept till past noon.

When I woke I was surprisingly alert and energetic, but I took it fairly easy and didn’t take any exercise. Some colleagues had experienced bad reactions to the therapy and spent the day in bed, but I amused myself with flower arrangements and photography, feeling some real improvement in my whole sense of well-being. At dinner I toyed with some rice but gave up after a couple of mouthfuls, retired early and slept the sleep of the dead.

There’s been a new arrival here, a very interesting Arab from the Gulf, who is involved with the entire water, drainage and sanitation programme for Oman. It is exciting to be able to discuss the political news with him and see his reaction as the whole Arab world struggles with the process of change and democratisation. He is a lovely, charming man and a great conversationalist. I also feel a sense of comradeship as he is a big man and, like me, finds some of the yoga a real physical challenge. There is a steady flow of new guests as others finish their Panchakarma and return home. A furniture designer from Belgium, a research scientist from Marseilles, a girl who lives just behind Clapham Common and works for an adoption agency, and an interesting German guy in a wheelchair. They are all new arrivals and all with interesting stories to tell (and an opportunity to practice my languages.)

Definitely not IKEA

I was at a loss to know what picture to use for this posting, but then I remembered the mural in the main building… and then the maids came and changed the bed-linen. What can I say? - another kind of bad taste....?