Over the years I’ve encountered many unusual spa experiences: I’ve sat with people who believed they’d seen the dead, bathed alongside nude strangers, and cried with intuitive healers — all in the name of research. Since launching our Spas column, I’ve intentionally pushed beyond standard massages and salon services to investigate unconventional therapies. I’ve also encouraged fellow writers to take similar risks. The result is a collection of spa stories that range from hilarious to poignant and are consistently informative.
One of the most memorable treatments I’ve experienced was an extended couple’s ritual at the Grand Wailea Resort Hotel & Spa on Maui. My husband, Kevin, and I checked in within a hushed marble reception hall beneath a Venetian crystal chandelier, then separated to change for our respective services.
For about an hour we enjoyed the resort’s gender-specific, clothing-optional hydrotherapy chambers. The women’s area was an expansive, three-room complex linked by graceful archways. It included a Roman-style whirlpool with a cold plunge, a Japanese furo bath, a wall of cascading waterfall massage stations and five oversized soaking tubs filled with distinctive treatments: moor mud, limu (seaweed), aromatherapy, papaya enzyme and Hawaiian mineral salt. After spending time moving slowly from one experience to the next, I pulled on a robe and met Kevin for the next phase: a hot-stone massage in a private hut tucked into tropical gardens.
More recently, I spent three restorative days at Miraval, a destination spa set in Arizona’s Sonoran Desert. I had intended to begin each morning with an early group hike and reserve afternoons for traditional spa treatments and meditation. Instead, a last-minute opening led me to a signature experience that changed my perspective.
I managed to get into Miraval’s Samadi Healing Ceremony with Dr. Tim Frank, a licensed general practitioner and hospice physician who draws on his Cherokee heritage for guidance. These sessions generally book months ahead, so the cancellation felt like fate. Whatever the reason, the ceremony became a breakthrough in my life. I connected with aspects of my past, present and future in ways that continue to inform how I navigate difficult moments, even six months later.
Given my interest in nontraditional treatments, I’m sometimes amused by accounts from writers who are new to spa culture or surprised by how personal some treatments can be. I’ve laughed out loud at several pieces by longtime Global Traveler contributor Richard Newton. In a June 2007 report about Elysium Spa in Madrid’s Barajas International Airport, Newton opened with an image that underlines the odd intimacy these places can create:
“I’m close to the check-in counters on the concourse of Terminal 4 at Madrid’s Barajas International Airport, wearing nothing but a pair of paper undies. It could be a bizarre dream, but this is real. I can hear the bustle of passengers and luggage carts all around me. I can’t see them, and, more importantly, they can’t see me. I am safely cloistered in one of the treatment cabins of the Elysium Spa.”
Despite the humor, nudity — and the awkwardness it can sometimes cause — appears frequently in our spa coverage.
After her first trip to India in 2007, Global Traveler Managing Editor Kimberly Krol felt compelled to caution modest readers about Divya Ayurveda Wellness Spa at the Leela Kempinski Kovalam Beach in Kerala. Kim praised a 90-minute Shirodhara session and the Pathra Podala Swedam treatment, but she also warned:
“I must issue a warning to the more modest readers (I consider myself a part of this group): The Ayurveda massages are characterized by long strokes, up and down the body. Some patrons may be uncomfortable with this spa’s no-limits approach to all areas of the anatomy. Most of the treatments are performed entirely in the buff. I was quite taken aback at first, but I eased into the treatments as I realized I needed to embrace cultural differences in order to truly enjoy and benefit from the therapeutic qualities of an Ayurvedic spa experience.”
For me personally, nudity is not a concern — I prefer being nude to wearing disposable paper undergarments. Interestingly, my most challenging spa session happened while I was fully clothed: a Watsu treatment at Spa Bellagio in Las Vegas.
Watsu combines elements of Shiatsu with aquatic therapy; performed in a warm pool, it relies on gentle passive movements to foster trust between giver and receiver. Wearing a swimsuit, I floated as a therapist guided me through rocking, cradling, stretching and supported floating.
Although the concept sounded soothing on paper, fully surrendering to the process felt intimidating at first. Reading a step-by-step description helped calm my nerves, and I committed to embracing the experience. Gradually I relaxed into the warmth of the water and the rhythmic stretching, allowing myself to stay present.
And in the end, that surrender — the willingness to be present and open — may be the essence of why people seek spa experiences in the first place.