I last went to Thailand 20 years ago for the obligatory student backpacking and hated it - the rucksack toting, not the country. There was no rite-of-passage self-discovery as I suffered the abject discomfort of our trip. All I gained was the knowledge that I never wanted to travel in penny-pinching, Lonely Planet mode again. Bangkok, Phuket and Koh Samui held no uplifting memories for me, apart from the universal grace of the Thai people. My only positive recollection is of entering a Buddhist temple outside Bangkok, feeling sweaty and filthy as I watched a beautiful Thai woman sweep the floor. I thought how ungainly I must seem, and wondered if she might resent me in her sacred space. I gestured in apology and prepared to leave. She bowed her head towards me and said: "Stay. We share the same God."
Two decades later, the Land of Smiles has opened its arms to a different breed of those in search of themselves - and spiritual harmony. Oh, and slim thighs, spotless skin and soothed souls. For them, however, budget isn't an issue when planning an Eastern spa trek. Yup, the chakra cognoscenti have discovered Thailand, which means destination spas are raising their Feng Shuied game as they vie to outdo each other with esoteric treatment menus set against stunning backdrops and spine-tingling luxury. Forget being contorted in a Thai massage on the beach before a steaming bowl of pad thai; these days sophisticated spiritual junkies expect vibrational healing and life mapping in spa suites the size of small city pads, where they relax in a post-treatment stupor drinking fresh-fruit mocktails (non-alcoholic cocktails) LA-style - with immune-boosting ginseng chasers.
Arriving after a 12-hour flight on a sweltering afternoon, I inwardly thanked our same God for the chilly aircon in the Rolls-Royce that whisked me to The Peninsula Hotel in Bangkok, a Lost In Translation-style skyscraper with sensational wraparound views of the city. The swiftest cure for jet lag is a massage, so I headed first for the spa, which opened last autumn. It's on ground level, so as to be closer to the Chao Phraya River, and unlike the rest of the modern hotel, it's designed like a traditional Thai tea house, with soaring ceilings, teak floors, running water and wafting lanterns. ESPA runs a sleek ship where you will never be disturbed by anything so prosaic as the phone ringing - all phones are hidden in a separate sound-insulated room. Even better, this is nirvana for Ayurvedic addicts. Before your treatment commences you are given an intuitive Ayurvedic consultation, which means that while you pour out your troubles - physical and psychological if desired - the therapist is analysing which Ayurvedic type you are and selecting appropriate oils to pour onto your imbalanced doshas. And all this without recourse to any of that depressing quasi-medical diagnosis - "your liver is shot so you need..." or "it's clear from your iris that your pancreas is playing up..." - which can put your back up.
Frankly, it's a miracle that the staff ever get you to leave the spa. Gone are the days when if you needed the loo, you had to hot foot it down the hall in a towel. Spa etiquette now demands that your sanctuary encompasses its own bathroom, not to mention an outdoor shower, perhaps a steam room, and of course a relaxation area in which to sip ginger tea and "process" the emotional "release" from a profound treatment. By the time I floated out of the spa at The Peninsula and into their riverside restaurant, Thiptara, where I had the finest Thai meal I've ever eaten - complete with organic brown rice - I was fully integrated into local time and ready for the next stop on my spa odyssey.
The minute I got to Trisara in Phuket, I had to hand it to them. They immediately trounced the Peninsula by handing out garlands of organic jasmine grown in their grounds. The non-organic Peninsula garlands may have kept their shape and colour longer, because they were chemically enhanced - tut tut - but they didn't emit the same insanely sweet aroma. Thailand is a sensuous country. It's all about sound - gushing waterfalls, the zingy hiss of cicadas - and smell - jasmine, wafting incense and now essential oils. Trisara has wonderful views of the Andaman Sea. Its 42 pool villas and suites are pared down to perfection, Aman-style, but none of the aching self-consciousness typical of the Aman crowd is in evidence. The general manager, Anthony Lark, spent 12 years as GM of Amanpuri before defecting to create his own resort hotel.
