I usually consider myself a traveler on the move, rarely staying long in one place. I seldom linger even in a single city, and extended stays at the same accommodation are almost unheard of for me. Last summer, however, was different. I spent a full week at an Ayurvedic retreat in the backwaters of Kerala, South India. My goal was to intensively experience treatments in the heartland of Indian traditional medicine. Aside from some neck and shoulder stiffness, I had no particular health issues, but I secretly hoped for a mental and physical detox. Still, the place centered around traditional medicine, vegetarianism, Ayurveda, herbal remedies, and yoga—elements that carried a certain mystical, almost dubious, air. Holding onto a slight wariness, yet drawn by the allure of soaking in the South Indian atmosphere, I found myself drifting towards Kerala.
After traveling through inland and southern India, I flew AirAsia India from Kempegowda International Airport Bengaluru to Cochin International Airport. This was my third time landing at this gateway to Kerala, located on the Malabar Coast facing the Arabian Sea. Stepping outside the terminal and looking back, the strikingly unique design of the building's exterior caught my eye. It resembled both traditional Indian architecture and the whimsical structures of a theme park. No matter how many times I see it, it feels simultaneously strange and nostalgic.
I came to Kochi because I'd decided to spend about a week at an Ayurvedic lodge nestled in Kerala's backwaters. I had visited the backwaters before, in the autumn of 2017. Back then, gliding along the waterways on a houseboat, I saw various estates tucked away in the forests along the banks. The thought of experiencing life there sparked my desire to return. A car from the lodge was supposed to pick me up, but the arrivals lobby was empty. "Well, this must be India time," I thought, deciding to wait a while.
While sitting on an outdoor bench, feeling the breeze, I did some preliminary reading about Ayurveda and my destination. According to my materials, Ayurveda is the traditional medicine of the Indian subcontinent. Along with Greco-Arabic Unani medicine and Chinese medicine, with which it mutually influenced and developed, it's considered one of the "world's three great traditional medical systems." The fundamental idea is that illness arises when the balance of bodily fluids, elements (doshas), etc., is disrupted. The treatment method is based primarily on oil massages to improve circulation and overall constitution. Kerala, I read, is the birthplace of systematized Ayurvedic treatment. This was indeed the authentic heartland.
That being said, it’s not as if I'm deeply devoted to India or hold an unreserved affection for all things Indian. On every visit, I find myself thoroughly exasperated by various situations, and I'm even skeptical about certain aspects strongly tied to the country's traditions and spirituality. However, this country is full of unknowns. And as a traveler, my curiosity about the unknown is endless. Immersing myself in authentic Ayurveda in South India felt like a travel experience unique to this place. I mused that spending a week adhering to a near-vegetarian diet and undergoing treatments might, even without specific therapeutic effects, offer a significant physical detox. Furthermore, if the internet connection proved limited, I might even get to experience a "digital detox."
Lost in these thoughts, a young man holding a handwritten sign reading "K. K. Yam" peered at me. My driver, apparently. Wordlessly, he led me to the car, stowed my luggage in the trunk, and we immediately set off towards my accommodation, a place called "Albin's Glory." The daily Ayurvedic treatments were to take place nearby at the home clinic of Dr. Subhash, an Indian medical doctor. I had booked my stay online from Japan. I chose Albin's Glory because, among the English-bookable options, it wasn't a hotel attached to a full-fledged hospital offering Ayurveda, nor was it a luxury hotel with Ayurveda tacked on as an amenity. Instead, it was a residence right on the backwaters where I could receive authentic treatments – precisely the kind of experience I sought. I had booked a six-night, seven-day stay.
The car passed through the central part of Kerala, reached a suburban town, and turned into a side street, seemingly an affluent, secluded community area in India. We proceeded down an even narrower back alley, and about an hour after leaving the airport, we arrived in front of a building facing the backwater canals: my destination, Albin's Glory.
It was a single-story building enveloped in lush green trees, one of the very estates I had glimpsed from the houseboat. The construction was simple yet resembled an elegant summer house. Viewed from the front, its symmetrical design was beautiful. The spacious front yard was meticulously maintained, with wooden hammocks and swings hanging from tree branches. An gazebo with a large table suggested group meals were sometimes held there. Just beyond the yard lay the backwater canal. Was the opposite bank about two hundred meters away? A few boats glided peacefully on the nearly waveless water. I could see a private boat landing, like a small dock, at the edge of the garden.
DAY 1: Life in the Backwaters
This wasn't a typical hotel. It was a dedicated facility for people undergoing continuous treatment at Dr. Subhash's clinic. Consequently, there was no reception desk. A few women dressed in saris, the staff, would come from their nearby homes at necessary times to handle meal preparation, serving, cleaning, and other tasks. There was a male manager named Sebastian, but he didn't seem to be permanently on site. Entering the building revealed a large central hall, surrounded by about six guest rooms and a dining room. Each room had its own bathroom and was generally clean and comfortable. The natural light filtering through the windows and the gentle breeze blowing through were soothing.
After unpacking in my assigned room, the thought "So, I'll be spending a week here" brought a strange sense of relief. Since there were no treatments on the first day, I immediately went out to the garden, sat in a chair, and gazed at the backwater canals, the sunset, and the birds leisurely flying by. The sheer tranquility and calm began to dissolve my sense of time.
At 6 PM, a staff member came to announce dinner. "Ah, so this is how meals work," I thought, heading to the indoor dining room. About seven other guests were already seated at the table, all appearing to be European. After brief introductions, I learned they included a Mauritian-French mother and daughter, a French couple in a long-distance relationship, a solo woman from Nantes, France, and two Swiss women (friends, but on separate schedules). Each was staying for two to three weeks; some had arrived a few days ago, while others were already in their final week of a three-week stay. At the table, they naturally formed French-speaking and German-speaking groups, but essentially, everyone ate together. I conversed in English, but thanks to the shared purpose of a long-term South Indian stay and the Ayurvedic experience, origins and native languages mattered little, and conversation flowed easily among strangers.
The food was vegetarian, primarily South Indian cuisine featuring legumes, rice, curried spices, and fruit. Everything was handmade from scratch by the female staff in the adjacent kitchen. Despite its visual simplicity, the flavors were robust. There was no alcohol or soft drinks, only caffeine-free Indian tea and water.
Around 7:30 PM, as dinner wound down, it occurred to me that I hadn't been told my treatment time for the next day. "How do I find out?" I asked the group. "Oh, someone will let you know eventually," was the reply. Who is 'someone'? I wondered, but decided I'd figure it out soon enough and went back to my room for a shower.
It was just past 8 PM. The night was utterly quiet. Were the others reading or stretching in their rooms? I thought I wouldn't be able to sleep this early, but listening to the insect chorus outside my window, I drifted off before I knew it.
DAY 2: First Ayurvedic Experience
I awoke to the sound of birds in the garden. It was just before 6 AM. Had I slept for over nine hours? The fatigue from the previous days' travel must have contributed. It had been a long time since I'd slept like that.
The weather looked promising, so I went out to the garden and walked down to the water's edge. The water's surface, glowing in the sunrise, was beautiful. In the distance, I could see a fisherman on a small boat casting a circular fishing net. It was a peaceful scene.
As I headed back towards the house, I noticed an early morning yoga session underway in the main hall. Four or five guests surrounded a male yoga master, striking various poses in a relaxed atmosphere. As I tried to quietly slip past, they smiled and offered morning greetings, completely natural. The master invited me to join the next day if I liked.
While getting ready in my room, a staff member informed me that breakfast was ready, my treatment for the day was at 11 AM, and the auto-rickshaw pickup would be at 10:30 AM. So that's what "someone will let you know" meant. Breakfast consisted mainly of arranged fruits, with fruit juice also available. After eating with the other guests, the time was mine, aside from heading to the clinic for treatment.
One could spend the whole day reading in a garden hammock, go jogging, or even head to the main road for shopping. Furthermore, a 30-minute journey by auto-rickshaw and ferry would take you to Fort Kochi, Kerala's largest urban center and tourist area, where cafes and restaurants offered coffee, beer, and steak. This wasn't a place of asceticism; nothing was forced. Everything was up to the individual. Yet, strangely, only on my second day, I already felt that "what's not here, isn't needed," and that living like a local for a while was quite enjoyable. Perhaps humans truly are creatures of environment? Or maybe my usual life is just filled with too many unnecessary things and temptations?
Albin's Glory did have Wi-Fi, but the speed was somewhat challenging for streaming videos. The connection would occasionally drop during the day and late at night. I could have used international data roaming on my Japanese SIM or bought a local one, but I didn't feel the need. Perhaps it was because the basic necessities for living were well-balanced here. It amused me to find myself thinking, "Even a slow but minimally functional internet connection is perfectly fine."
As treatment time approached, I took an auto-rickshaw ride through the village, arriving at Dr. Subhash's home clinic in just under 10 minutes. This too was a residence surrounded by greenery and flowers, facing the backwaters. A second-floor terrace served as the waiting area.
The Ayurvedic treatment began with a consultation with the doctor. He meticulously inquired about my current lifestyle, food preferences, physical condition, and medical history to determine the appropriate treatments. This consultation, I learned, happened daily – true medical attention. For me, it primarily involved a full-body oil massage, with focused work on the stiffness in my neck and shoulders. Two male therapists worked together, kneading and loosening muscles throughout my body and stimulating energy channels (nadis). They checked for pain points while applying concentrated pressure, and the unique atmosphere, combined with the scent of warm, thick oil, made it clear that Ayurveda was unlike any massage or chiropractic treatment I'd experienced before. The oils seemed to be custom-blended for each patient and treatment; immediately after the consultation, the doctor gave detailed instructions to the therapists.
After the roughly one-hour session, my entire body, including scalp and hair, was covered in oil, but showering immediately was discouraged (abstaining enhances the therapeutic effect). Strangely, perhaps due to the Indian climate and surroundings, I quickly adapted to this too.
The afternoon was spent lounging in the garden hammock again. During lunch and dinner conversations, I discovered the diverse reasons people came here, which was quite fascinating. Some sought an escape from daily routine; others had found the key to self-liberation from stress in Indian medicine; some turned to Ayurveda after Western medicine failed to improve chronic conditions; and still others, convinced of its effectiveness, had been returning annually for over a decade. Compared to them, I felt like I was just peeking curiously at something exotic and perhaps slightly unconventional, stopping by for only a week.
Likely due to the oil massage, I felt sleepy before 9 PM. Was my body returning to its natural rhythms in this natural environment? And yet, I had only just arrived.
DAY 3: Acclimating to Vegetarian Food
My second treatment was much like the first, but I already felt a slight improvement in my neck and shoulder stiffness. At the very least, I had the distinct feeling I was doing something good for my body.
Meals at Albin's Glory continued to be vegetarian, consistently featuring legumes, curry, fruit, and rice. However, both the presentation and taste were surprisingly varied and never boring. Most importantly, the satisfaction level of each meal was remarkably high. It was astonishing that I didn't crave meat, animal fats, junk food, or even coffee at all. Perhaps food possesses a certain deliciousness and satisfaction intrinsically matched to the local climate and lifestyle.
DAY 4: Venture into the City
Though it rained early in the morning, the weather cleared up by the time I left for my treatment. During the session, the doctor mentioned, "We'll change the type of oil starting today," though he didn't elaborate. One of the therapists remarked that my muscles were starting to loosen up. He added, however, that maintaining conscious breathing and daily movement was crucial to prevent the neck and shoulder stiffness from returning. Point taken.
After the treatment, seeking a change of scenery, I ventured into the center of Fort Kochi. It was my first time back in a city in days. The hustle and bustle felt somewhat nostalgic, yet also slightly unsettling. The fact that I didn't feel the urge to grab a beer or coffee at a cafe – was this a sign that the Ayurveda experience was changing something within me? Habit suggested I should want one, but my body simply wasn't craving it. More than that, I found myself wanting to return to the tranquility of Albin's Glory sooner rather than later, and quickly boarded the ferry back.
DAY 5: And Then, Yoga
In the early morning, I decided to join the drop-in yoga session held in the hall. Until then, I'd held a bias against yoga. I had tried it in gyms before but disliked the closed-off, somewhat exclusive atmosphere. That's why I had intentionally avoided it at Albin's Glory. However, seeing everyone practice yoga so naturally each morning in the open air encouraged me to participate. Following the yoga master's instructions, moving my body slowly, I felt unexpected tension and release in various places. I intuitively understood the connection between body, muscles, breath, and internal organs. And above all, it was baffling how profusely I sweated despite the extremely slow movements. I felt like I was finally discovering the power of yoga. When I mentioned this to the doctor during the pre-treatment consultation later that day, he replied, "Ah yes, yoga is very beneficial," as if to say, 'Well, obviously. Were you the only person in the world who didn't know?'
DAY 6: Finally, A Change in the Body?
A vegetarian diet, no stimulants or junk food, nearly nine hours of sleep, relaxing time in nature, a limited digital detox, early morning yoga, and daily Ayurvedic treatments – nearly a week had passed like this. Today was effectively my last full day. The treatment included massage and "Shirodhara," where oil is continuously poured onto the forehead's "third eye" point. It's often considered synonymous with Ayurveda. While my forehead, face, and hair became thoroughly oil-soaked, the immediate effects weren't apparent.
After completing all the sessions, the doctor told me, "If you continue treatments for about three weeks, you'll see distinct positive changes in your body. Come back for a longer stay next time." He also gave me a lengthy list detailing my body type according to Indian medicine, along with foods I should prioritize and avoid. This marked the end of my Ayurveda experience. It was a moment tinged with both relief and a touch of melancholy.
DAY 7: Leaving
Saying farewell to the other guests, who had become like housemates, I departed Albin's Glory for Cochin International Airport. My skin and hair felt persistently sticky with treatment oil, no matter how many times I washed them, making me wonder what would happen after a three-week stay. In just seven days, I had lost about three kilograms (roughly 6.6 pounds), likely due to the healthy diet. The stiffness in my neck and shoulders also felt somewhat lighter.
During my transit in Mumbai on the way back to Japan, I had a beer, but it tasted slightly different than before the Ayurveda experience. After arriving in Japan, however, the beer tasted normal again before I knew it, and my weight slowly returned to its previous level. Although daily life has resumed as if those days in India never happened, I feel that the Ayurveda experience undeniably changed me in subtle ways. The realization that I could live contentedly, without feeling deprived, on vegetarian food in a completely natural environment, and how that seemed to balance my body and draw out some kind of inner strength, was profound. Humans are creatures of their environment, and environments bring about change. If that change is positive, all the better.
What I learned during this brief, one-week "immersive" Ayurvedic journey was not only the depth of the unknown India but perhaps also my own potential as a human being. Maybe travel isn't just about discovering destinations, but also about discovering oneself? With this profound realization settling in my chest, I thought that this kind of "stay-put" travel certainly has its own deep appeal.