‘So what do you know about it?’
‘It’sthe latest wellness spa and it’s going to be a huge deal. I think they use water from a thermal spring on site for their treatments. It sounds pretty slick.’
I’ve no doubt. And the word spa is making me buzz with excitement. I’m thinking. . . towelling robes, fluffy slippers, a morning swim to start the day. What a treat!
Sun-dappled mountains glide by, some still capped by the last of the winter snow. Lush, alpine trees cling to the peaks and every once in a while we drive past a waterfall, crystal clear liquid crashing down from the rugged alps. If I were a puppy, I’d be hanging my head out of the car, tongue out. Instead I’ll make doing with pressing my nose against the window, toddler-style. Soon enough, large electric gates are shutting behind us and we’re pulling up outside a modern building made mostly of glass, reflecting the dominant mountains from every angle.
‘I wonder what drink we’ll be offered on arrival,’ muses Violet. ‘I feel like a simple gin and tonic would be just perfect, don’t you?’
‘Ooh, I wouldn’t say no!’
Some of us step daintily out of the car like an advert for etiquette while some of us hitch up our jeans and hope there’s not too much butt crack on show. I’ll leave you to guess which is which. Ahead of us, the glass door glides silently open and two women approach wearing, wait, are they matrons’ outfits? White smocks. White rubber shoes. White hats secured into place with pins. I can’t say I’m vibing the staff uniform.
‘Welcome to Bad Wassen,’ says one with a tight smile.
‘What’s so bad about thewassen?’ I quip. Violet nudges me in the ribs and we share a look, trying not to giggle. A shared joke with my boss! This trip has started brilliantly.
‘Wassenis the spring here,’ explains the second lady with no hint of reciprocated humour. ‘It is the source of water and of life.Badis Swiss for spa. Please do direct questions to any member of staff while you are here, we are all happy to help. Now, before we get you settled in we need to do a quick security check.’
Violetand I stop smiling.
‘We simply go through your belongings and prune out anything that attaches you to the outside world. No phones. No laptops. No tablets. No connection.’
Violet’s gone pale despite her recent visit to Bruce the spray tanner.
‘No connection? I’m afraid that can’t happen. Ladies, I’m an influencer. You can’tinfluencewithout a phone. AND WHAT ABOUT MY FAMOUS BOYFRIEND?’ Her voice has gone shrill and she’s already turning on her heels, but those electric gates have closed and the matrons are resting firm hands on Violet’s shoulders.
‘You’ll be fine,’ they soothe. ‘A few days at Bad Wassen and you’ll feel new born.’
Violet’s actually dragging her feet on the gravel as they pull her along. I don’t feel too enthused about a three-night digital detox myself, to be honest, but we’re here now. That g&t had better taste good.
‘THERE’S NO BOOZE?’ Violet shouts. ‘No wifiandno booze? What is this place?!’ She’s being marched through the jaw-dropping reception area, past a bar which stocks only water and towards her bedroom. I’m trailing along behind, trying to keep enough of a distance so that other guests don’t think I’m with Crazy. If it weren’t for the modern architecture, marble everything and heavenly herbal smell in the air, Violet being dragged away by matrons could look a bit like the start of a horror movie.
Violet and I are sharing a room because ‘even I couldn’t persuade them to let me have another room for my staff’, she said.Staff indeed. Still, you know somewhere is proper exclusive when Violet can’t get her own way. On the bright side, the fact that this room is both palatial and stunning seems to be appeasing her. There’s a balcony stretching the width of the suite with views out over the alps and a dipping pool outside. Inside are the plumpest twin beds I ever did see, a separate lounge areaanda bathroom with hers and hers sinks.
‘This place is incredible,’ I gasp, walking from one corner to the next with my hand outspread, lightly touching every surface. It’s all polished concrete with dazzling white walls and flashes of colour thanks to contemporary art.
‘It is quite nice,’ sniffs Violet. I can tell that she’s impressed, despite the fact that she gets to enjoy this kind of luxury on the regular. It’s a colossal step up for me and even having to share with Vomit isn’t stopping me from feeling dizzy with excitement.
I’m about to dive headfirst into the minibar, hopes of Swiss chocolate filling my mind, when there’s a short, sharp knock at the door and one of the ladies in white appears with a wad of paper in one hand, a tray with glasses of water in the other.
‘Here are your itineraries for the weekend. Please report down to reception in seven minutes for your medicals.’
‘Medicals?’ I mouth to Violet as we blink down at the printed sheets.
4pm MEDICAL conducted by Dr Rochat
5pm INTRODUCTION TO YOGA
6pm REST and CONTEMPLATION
6:50 DINNER
8pm LIGHTS OUT
‘Lightsout? Surely they can’t mean bed time? AT EIGHT PM! What is this, boarding school in the Victorian times?’ puffs Violet.
It does sound a bit strict. ‘Oh look, here’s some more info about the hotel,’ I say, rifling through my paper. I skim through it, reading out loud the essential information. ‘Digital detox. . . raw, plant-based diet. . . vigorous fitness regime. . . zen mantra.’ I grimace. Violet looks anything but zen.
