Mauritius: the Shanti Ananda by Jini Reddy
Featured Hotel in Mauritius
Maradiva Villas Resort & Spa (formerly Taj Exotica Resort), Mauritius
See all hotels in Mauritius >
In the hour since I arrived at the Shanti Ananda Maurice, Mauritius’ only destination spa (and younger sibling to the much raved-about Ananda in the Himalayas). I’ve sipped the first of dozens of ginger-lemon teas, hurled myself onto the treadmill for a brief jetlag-dispelling jog, and now, am collapsed in front of Dr. Mane, the spa’s ayurvedic guru, awaiting his diagnosis.
Just over half are here for the ayurvedic cleansing, detoxing, pampering or fitness programmes. The rest like the fact that it’s a boutique-style resort, on a white-sand beach devoid of motorised boats and the tourist hordes who holiday in the northern part of the island. (The spa is in the southeast, an undeveloped corner of Mauritius, between the hills and the Indian Ocean and within a few hours’ drive of the breathtaking Black River Gorge National Park.)
After taking my pulse, asking me a series of questions about my personality, and casting a practised eye over my weary self, Dr. Mane declares me a ‘pitta-vata’ ayurvedic type, or dosha. According to ayurvedic principles, he tells me, there are three doshas: pitta, vata, or kapha, each corresponding to combinations of the elements, ie earth, fire, air and water.
Being a pitta-vata means that I have a hyperactive brain, don’t enjoy relinquishing control ,am sensitive and relish a challenge, although paradoxically this leaves me feeling stressed and a bit anxious. All of which rings true. (Later in the week, I take a tour of the vast kitchens. On a whiteboard every guest’s dosha is scribbled down and the majority, I notice, are pita- vatta types. It makes sense: the Shanti isn’t cheap and it’s driven, pro-active types who tend to come here.)
Ayurveda is a 5000-year old philosophy and healing system that originated in India. In the west, we tend to treat it as a pick and mix – an ayurvedic massage here, or an ayurvedic tea there, when we’re in the mood. But as it’s practised in the east Ayurveda is a way of life, a preventative rather than a cure – the goal being to achieve good health using massage, herbs, foods, minerals, oils, exercise, meditation, yoga, breathwork, and some fairly arcane practises, of which I soon get a taste.
A prescription of intensive indulgence interspersed with brief bursts of activity – a dip in the ocean, a jog along the beach, or more often a race from yoga class to spa – means I have little time to flop on the divinely comfortable bed or drink in the view. But it’s hardly a slog.
Administered by gentle, well-trained therapists the various massages and wraps leave me feeling like a spoilt toddler. The highlight? For me, it has to be the shirodhara, known for its rejuvenating effects, and during which warm oil (a blend of ayurvedic oils, each containing 52 herbs, and flown over from India), is poured onto my forehead.
I’d been expecting that, but not the mesmerising ritual surrounding it: first my feet are placed in a basin of warm water on basalt (volcanic) stones, and then I’m given a foot and leg massage, after which the two therapists in the room sing a beautiful sanskrit prayer to me.
Then as I lie on the treatment table, both therapists massage ayurvedic oil onto my body. Next comes the main event, the drip-drip-drip of the oil between my eyes, a curious sensation, which I can best liken to having a tongue stroking your forehead. As the oil falls one of the therapists massages it into my scalp, by which point I am audibly purring. Finally, I’m bundled into a steam room, and handed a jar of green ayurvedic paste to scrub with, before showering.
Then there is the Watsu, a kind of waterborne shiatsu. Built like a sumo wrestler, the female therapist effortlessly supports my weight, cradling me in a specially warmed pool, and gently contorting my limbs in a balletic, gravity-defying choreography. I have the session at dusk, and spend the rest of the evening holed up in my room, feeling blessedly calm.
The sixty-minute Mukh Lepa ayurvedic facial – described as a ‘traditional beauty ritual for Indian women’ – is simple and straightforward but leaves my skin calmer and clearer than more elaborate facials I’ve had. But it’s the Jal Neti, a cleansing practise popular with yogis that falls into the hardcore – do-I-really-want-to-try-this? – ayurveda end of the spectrum.
Therapist Anil hands me a ceramic teapot filled with warm salted water, and shows me how to stick the spout end of the vessel into my right nostril. When I tip my head to one side side, water flows through my nasal passage and out my left nostril.
I have to take deep breaths to stop from feeling that I’m about to drown but when I’ve done both nostrils, I feel crisp and clear-headed. Apparently Jal Neti is a sure-fire cure for sinus problems, headaches, and colds. I’m given the pot to take home with me, and am waiting for a burst of courage to give it another go.
The yoga teachers at the Shanti Ananda are the real deal, and Rakesh and Anandi, from Rishikesh and Gujarat in India are the best I’ve ever had: graceful, funny, agile and kind (a too-rare quality these days). Though not an absolute beginner I attend the early morning gentle hatha yoga class – at 8.15 not crucifyingly early.
Guests often book private sessions with the tutors, and as part of my detox programme I’m offered one with Anandi. She doesn’t laugh at my creaky hamstrings, and gets me to lie on my stomach and kick my heels, which she assures me will be excellent for my kundalini energy (and which I gather will perk up my sex life no end.)
From both tutors I learn that how you breathe (pranayama) is as important as any posture – that the breath controls the mind, and ultimately the body. It might sound waffly but the breathing exercises I pick up in a subsequent one-on-one session, incredibly, still my mind in a matter of minutes .
I’d come to the spa hoping to shed a few pounds. That that didn’t happen was down to my inability to resist the in-room snacks. (The manager has since made a note to staff to remove temptation for those on a detox diet.) But there is no faulting the food here: it is delicious, inventive and beautifully presented. If you’re keen to eat according to your ayurvedic type you can order from a special menu, and interestingly, no foods are forbidden in ayurveda.
‘Ayurvedic cookery identifies six different tastes: sweet, sour, salty, pungent, bitter and astringent. All are used to balance the body’s energies and each meal should ideally include all six tastes,’ explains Chef Sumit, after I beg him for some of his recipes.
So breakfast on my detox pitta-vata menu is a fruit platter with walnuts, almonds and raisons, and protein and moong dal pancakes, washed down with ginger lemon tea. Lunch and dinner always start with a salad or soup, followed by a main dish – my favourites are the soy and honey red snapper with carrots, onions and green beans, and the risotto with broccoli and girolles – and a miniscule dessert. Detox? Yes. Deprivation? Hardly.
I do manage to drag myself out of the spa for an afternoon’s excursion around the south side of the island: driving through lush green countryside, I head to the pale pink temple on the banks of the Lac du Grand Bassin, the most sacred site on the island for Mauritian Hindus and a peaceful spot, worth visiting. I’m not so sure about the bizarre seven-coloured sands of Chamarel – a quirk of nature, best viewed at sunset. More fun is a visit to the market in Curepipe, a local town, where I sample a traditional and tasty snack of dahl roti.
On my penultimate night, Effa, from Germany, who’d bagged a villa (the same one Kylie Minogue stayed in) throws a cocktail party – a naughty time-out from all the healthy living. I’d not expected to make friends, but I’m told that happens all the time here. There is even a ‘round table’ where those travelling alone can be seated at dinner, a terrific idea.
The Shanti Ananda is no boot camp – so don’t go expecting to find a lock on the mini-bar or army-style exhortations of the ‘no pain, no gain’ variety – but as a restorative time-out it works a treat. My glowing skin, lowered blood pressure, calmer state of mind are ample proof of that.