Four surprising things I learnt at one of the world’s top wellness resorts

I’m sitting cross-legged in an outdoor yoga pavilion. A gentle breeze ripples through, bringing relief from the Thai humidity.

The instructor explains that the technique we are about to practise is like trying to expel a fly from your nostrils while riding a bicycle downhill. It might make me feel dizzy at first, but that should settle.

This pranayama class is a private lesson in breathing techniques designed to control the nervous system. It was prescribed by my personal wellness adviser as part of a hectic timetable of activities that, when printed out, looks intimidatingly like my work calendar.

When I told people I was off to Thailand for a five-night wellness retreat, I found myself being sheepish about it. Embarrassed, almost. Everyone’s busy. Everyone has stress in their lives.

Everyone could use a break. It took a lecture from a colleague to snap me out of it. “You deserve it,” she said. “You’re going to go on this retreat, you will own it, and you’re not going to apologise for it.”

So here I am at Chiva-Som Hua Hin, one of the world’s most famous wellness resorts, sniffing out imaginary flies. The yoga instructor keeps count as I expel 60 of them. I become light-headed, but the sensation subsides.

After three rounds of rapid-fire breathing, my arms and legs are pleasantly heavy. But I feel genuinely, surprisingly invigorated.

Hua Hin is about a three-hour drive south of Bangkok’s Suvarnabhumi Airport. The town is big enough to have a Uniqlo store, but better known for its bustling markets and as one of the hottest wellness destinations on the planet. While I’m there, rocker Jimmy Barnes posts on social media from one of his regular restorative visits to the town.

Chiva-Som, which sits on a sprawling property between the main road and the beach, is celebrating its 30th birthday, which means it was well ahead of the wellness craze. As I’m handed a lemongrass tea and an envelope on arrival, I wonder if this temple of wellbeing has what it takes to switch off my racing brain. But Chiva-Som delivers a series of surprises.

Switching off is possible, and liberating

The envelope contains details for an initial wellness consultation and a signature massage that afternoon.

Having my own wellness adviser for five days is one of the most appealing aspects of my stay. There are 51 group activities listed on the leaflet in my room (plus an additional array of individual experiences) and I fancy a break from making decisions. Sure enough, my adviser takes charge, and I’m grateful for it.

She is a friendly, efficient woman whose job is to design the retreat in a way that meets my goals.

Those are simple enough. I want to switch my brain off. I want to be able to get to sleep and stay asleep. I want to be active, but also remind myself how to relax. She takes my blood pressure and asks about any injuries or ailments. I mention that my right shoulder aches after exercise, and she books me in for a physical assessment with a physiotherapist.

Guests can choose from a menu of retreats that includes fitness, detox, gut health, tension release, and weight management (there are more), or you can go all out with the spa treatments. I go for a program that combines the fitness and relaxation programs.

When I mention the broken sleep, my adviser suggests floatation therapy. I’d previously been warned that those who suffer from motion sickness should steer clear of flotation tanks, but I’d tried something similar at home several years earlier without incident. Sure enough, I feel completely unmoored from reality while drifting in the dark, and sink into an unbroken sleep that night.

Judging by the schedule printed off for me, wellness is a full-time job. There is a stretching class on each morning, which I follow with something more strenuous – a personal training session one day, a HIIT class another, a spin cycling session, a Y-bell class (like kettlebells but with a variety of grips). These I follow with a walk along the beach and a dip in the ocean. Afternoons are given over to spa treatments in the wellness centre, a vast area divided into men’s and women’s spaces, where it’s perfectly acceptable to wander around in one’s Thai pyjamas or robe, to lounge with a book while waiting for a treatment, recline on a water bed, or sink into the jacuzzi.

Perhaps most liberating is the literal switching off. Phones are banned from communal spaces. At first, the very thought makes me anxious. I’m ashamed to say that as the car pulled up to Chiva-Som I was watching a live-stream of my son’s cricket match before stuffing the device into my bag on arrival. Not to mention the constant connectedness required to do my job. But I only see one guest sneaking a look at their phone by the pool, and for me, leaving it in my room brings the stunning realisation that I can do without it.

A chi nei tsang (abdominal) massage, which reveals I hold tension in my liver, is uncomfortable at first, but a soothing eye treatment complete with ice-cold mask more than makes up for it.

Wellness cuisine can be healthy and delicious

A statue of Chiva-Som founder and former politician Boonchu Rojanastien is inscribed with his motto: “Above all, enjoy your life.” Which is to say, you can have (an extremely good) barista coffee with breakfast, there is not a total ban on alcohol – though it’s restricted to wine or champagne with dinner – and the meals are small but perfectly formed. Wellness, it turns out, is not all about deprivation.

There is a breakfast buffet, but this is not the sumptuous dumpling-fest we have come to expect from South-East Asian hotels. Most mornings I order the shakshuka, a quivering baked egg in lentil stew, which comes in a ramekin-sized bowl. Every menu and buffet item is accompanied by nutritional information, including the calorie count. With fresh fruit, juices and healthy snacks in the room, I’m never hungry.

A cooking demonstration run by the executive sous chef reveals an emphasis on miso for flavour, rather than sugar. There is always vegetable stock on the simmer (everything except beetroot and red onion goes in) and it’s used in place of oil for frying wherever possible. Carbs are in short supply; rather than mountains of pad Thai, for example, such dishes feature a small, delicate nest of noodles.

The chef demonstrates a fiendishly easy probiotic cabbage kimchi, a vibrant emerald soup (basically blended seasonal vegetables with a hit of white miso paste at the end), and marinated sea bass with citrus sauce. The sauce is a lively mix of spices, lime juice and coconut oil, and for a kick, there’s that miso paste again. It’s a banging meal, and most importantly, one I’m confident I can replicate at home.

To finish my last meal at Chiva-Som, I choose from the dessert cabinet a spinach and coconut blondie (66 cal, 1g protein, 8g carbohydrate, 3g fat). With its sweetness from coconut nectar, this heavenly cube is proof that wellness cuisines can be healthy and delicious. I’m thinking about it all the way back to Bangkok.

I am not the least flexible person on the planet

I know this because the yoga instructor said: “I’ve seen less flexible people than you.” But I think he was being kind.

During the aforementioned physical assessment, the physio takes one look at me and notices that my right shoulder is significantly lower than the left – probably a result of slinging a heavy backpack over my right side and lugging it to and from press boxes for 15 years. I’m not injured, but he demonstrates some exercises to “engage the scapula”. The physio also appears shocked by the lack of flexibility in my hamstrings, and recommends stretches to lengthen them.

These two observations are incorporated into subsequent activities, including a spine mobilisation session and a personal training session. The trainer has me engaging the hell out of my scapula with a series of exercises using a large stick. It’s harder than it sounds. For each weight-bearing exercise, he increases the heaviness and reduces the reps through three or four rounds. Lastly, as I walk across the gym holding kettlebells by my sides, he explains that grip strength is an indicator of overall strength. Again, these are simple lessons I think I can use in Real Life.

As well as the pranayama class, I have a private yoga session that focuses on stretching and flexibility. When it comes to my recalcitrant hamstrings, the instructor has me cajoling them as if they are reluctant children. He shows me how to breathe into the muscle, reaching a tiny bit further towards the floor with each effort. By the end I’m dripping with sweat. I’m no Simone Biles, but I’ve touched my toes for the first time in years.

Back home, I sign up for regular yoga classes.

Regular people go on wellness retreats too

Typical guests at Chiva-Som are solo travellers and couples, but there are bigger family groups too; during my stay I come across some women travelling with their mothers, for example. Children aged under 14 are not allowed (the minimum age was recently reduced from 16, but kids are welcome at Zulal by Chiva-Som in Qatar).

There’s no escaping the fact that Chiva-Som is a high-end destination. But the emphasis is on Thai hospitality and comfort rather than in-room luxury; you’re encouraged to be out and about, at the wellness centre, the gym, the pools, or taking a mindful moment under the enormous banyan tree.

Some guests come for rehabilitation from illness or surgery, others for an annual reset. One veteran retreater has visited a record 96 times. Overwhelmingly, my impression is that people are here to disconnect from unremarkable but real stresses – demanding jobs, young children, hectic schedules. Interestingly, hardly anyone orders an alcoholic drink with dinner.

The fitness retreat is among the most popular, and the studio is populated with “regular” people seeking to kick-start or re-establish their exercise routines, rather than elite athletes.

Three days into a five-day retreat, a woman grimaces as she steps gingerly down some stairs after the previous day’s abs, butt and thighs class. I know how she feels, but by day five, I feel energised and refreshed, and book in another interval training session before I leave.

Before the retreat, I had little faith in my ability to stop thinking for long enough to embrace all that it had to offer. It turns out all I needed was my own wellness adviser. I can’t take her home, but by the time of my departure consultation, armed with strategies to incorporate into Real Life, I’m convinced there is value in carving out time for myself, and that doing so is nothing to be sheepish about.

The details

Book

Retreat rates vary, depending on the season, from $1284 per person, per night (June to September) to about $1900 per person per night (November to February). This covers accommodation, wellness consultation, three wellness cuisine meals per day, optional physical and skin analysis, fitness and leisure classes, access to wellness and spa facilities, a daily spa treatment, and additional retreat inclusions.

Know

A minimum stay of three nights applies for retreat packages. Offers include an early bird rate and a “Serene Getaway” offer, which starts at $925 per person per night for a five-night retreat, valid from June 1 to September 30, 2026. See chivasom.com. Bookings can be made in Australia with a local reservations expert See traveltheworld.com.au/chiva-som

Fly
Thai Airways operate regular direct flights to Bangkok from Sydney and Melbourne. Hua Hin, Chiva-Som’s location, is about three hours by road southwest of the Thai capital’s international airport with the retreat able to arrange transfers. See thaiairways.com

More
See tourismthailand.org

The writer travelled as a guest of Chiva-Som.