My first trip to the spa

Hainan Island sits seductively in the South China Sea. Far from the frenetic pace of Shanghai, or Hong Kong, or Beijing, the island is China’s natural paradise. But it wasn’t always this way. Centuries ago, the island was a penal colony for those who fell out of favour with the country’s rulers. Then, it was known as the doorway to hell.

I stepped off the plane at Sanya’s Phoenix Airport, and was overwhelmed by the fresh, tropical air. The dark of evening had cloaked the beautiful surroundings, as our driver made the 40-minute drive to our hotel at Yalong Bay, the southernmost point in China. With its eight kilometres of golden sand, Yalong Bay is reputed to be Sanya’s best stretch of beach. It is here that one will find some of the island’s best hotels. I was on a press trip and stayed at the newly opened Sanya Marriott Resort and Spa. With its welcoming, open-air lobby, the hotel is beautiful, stunning, and restful. The view didn’t disappoint when I woke the first morning and opened my curtains to the sparkling waters of the South China Sea.

One of the hotel’s managers asked if I would like to try a spa treatment. A spa treatment? It sounded so clinical. I had never been to a spa, but I would be foolish to say no. I was then asked what kind of treatment I would like. I hesitated for a moment. She must have sensed that I was a spa virgin. “Maybe you would like the head to toe treatment?” Maybe I would.

I showed up for my appointment, and was overcome by a sense of serenity the moment I walked into the spa’s reception area. After giving my name, I was asked if I would like the coffee or honey-mango body polish. It was like my dentist asking if I wanted peppermint or wild berry flavoured fluoride. I don’t drink coffee, so I chose the honey-mango. Body polish? Who would have thought?

I was shown to one of the stand-alone pavilions, which house the spa’s16 treatment rooms. Inside, soothing music filled the room. I could hear the trickle of water from a small fountain, while a petite woman was preparing the room. She handed me a plush, white towel, and what looked to me like a thin head covering that a surgeon would wear. I went into the washroom and undressed. Unsure of what this extra garment was, I put it on my head, wrapped the towel around the lower portion of my body, and walked out.

I must have looked foolish, but to her credit, the spa lady didn’t laugh, although I’m sure I saw her suppressing a smile. Her English was about as good as my Chinese, so she gestured that the thing I had put on my head was really disposable underwear. I picked my ego up off the floor, took the underwear off my head and returned to the change room, where I tried to squeeze into something that had been made for small Asian women.

Once everything was in order, I sat in a chair and dipped my feet in a bowl of warm water. But it wasn’t just any bowl of water. I would later learn that my feet were soaking in Qi Water. Apparently, the spa has harnessed the healing forces of water by installing specially designed vivifiers, which revitalize and restructure the water in a natural way. Qi Water is supposed to stimulate detoxification, improve skin disorders, stimulate the immune system, improve blood circulation, and enhance energy levels.

With my feet suitably energized by the fancy water, I climbed up onto the massage table. The woman that had just been entertained by my clothing foible was probably wondering how a bald guy could be so hairy. I often wonder that myself. She started massaging my feet and lower legs. In an instant, 35 years of wear started to rub away. With trained precision, she held the towel in place, as I turned onto my stomach. I closed my eyes and could hear the honey-mango polish being mixed in a small, wooden bowl. The warm, sticky concoction was brushed onto my shoulders and back and legs. And then like my grandmother might have done when making bread, she started kneading my body. Once my pores had absorbed the sweet smelling polish, I returned to the change room and showered it off. Sensing that the underwear didn’t fit well the first time, I wasn’t offered a second pair.

One after another, warm, moist towels were placed on my face. Before my treatment began, I was asked if I would like the anti-aging, or the wrinkle reducing facial. Who wouldn’t want to be young forever? I chose the anti-aging tonic, which was now being liberally applied to my face. Outside, I could hear the palm trees waving in the warmth of the late afternoon. Several times I caught myself falling asleep, and thought that this pleasing experience would surely end soon. But there was more. After the “Thirty-five forever” cream had soaked deep into my face, more warm towels were used. And then again my arms, and torso, and legs were massaged.

Finally my treatment was over. I peeled myself off the table, rubbed my hands across my arms, and was sure that my skin looked and felt a lot better than when I had come in. Feeling refreshed, I walked out of the pavilion and was surprised that the sun had already set. I looked at my watch and was amazed that I had just experienced three hours of pampered bliss.

I still don’t know the difference between a facial flash and a moisture surge facial or a cucumber body mask and a detoxifying body wrap, but I did learn that underwear shouldn’t be worn on one’s head.

Sanya Mariott Resort and Spa