Sri Lanka: Getting away on a blissful Ayurvedic escape

Bruce Emond, The Jakarta Post, Jakarta

Save your blushes if you go in for an Ayurvedic evaluation.

Forget about simply ticking off the boxes on that The Body Shop questionnaire: Here, with a doctor scrutinizing the size and color of your teeth, feeling the texture of your hair and asking about your bowel habits, there is no room to be coy.

It was the start of my Ayurvedic therapy at Jetwing Ayurveda Villas in Negombo, a coastal resort about an hour's drive from the Sri Lankan capital Colombo.

Ayurvedic getaways have become a major tourist draw in Sri Lanka, which has its own form of the 5,000-year-old Indian holistic medicine, a hybrid that also blends in its own traditional medicinal treatments.

Trying out Ayurveda here instead of its place of origin has its own benefits. Visitors can take their pick from resorts on the coast or in the mountains, there are beautiful, well-run retreats to be found amid the many bogus establishments offering nothing more than a well-oiled massage and, frankly, a trip to this small island is probably not such a shock to the senses as a vacation in the sprawling subcontinent.

So, after the four-hour plane ride from Jakarta to Colombo, a restless overnight in the muggy capital and the hour's drive to Negombo, I was ready to put my mind, body and spirit back into working order earlier this month.

This was notwithstanding that my knowledge of Ayurveda was for long limited to the fact it meant "science of life", as well as trying out some of the range of balms, scrubs and pillow sprays available at The Body Shop in Jakarta.

I learned a little more during a media trip to the country in March, particularly about the dosha, Ayurveda's three life forces or humors of Vata (air, corresponding to wind in the body), Pitta (fire or bile) and Kapha (water or phlegm), which are responsible for the functioning of the human body.

When the dosha are out of whack, due to aggravating factors such as diet, stress, lifestyle or emotions, disease can take over because they influence the dhatu, the seven elemental constituents of the body: plasma, blood, flesh, fat, bones, marrow and semen.

From taking The Body Shop's cursory questionnaire, I had assumed I was Vata, due to my rather flighty emotions and nervous disposition, including being a lifelong nail-biter.

The first consultation with Dr. Vasukie, the young, meticulous practitioner at the center, provided its own revelation. I was diagnosed a Pitta and Kapha, or the none too pleasant-sounding "bile and mucus dominated individual".

Dr. Vasukie determined that it was actually a deficiency of Vata elements which were causing a lack of balance in my life (the nail-biting was pronounced a bad habit, not evidence of deeper emotional turmoil, although there are some who would argue the point).

After my session, as I read up on the definition of Pitta by the late Ayurvedic scholar Harish Johari, I realized the truth to the doctor's diagnosis.

Pittas, according to Johari, are "... lovers of flowers and aromatic scents ... They do not follow the prevalent religions. Their faces and eyes have a reddish cast, their body temperatures are hot, and they are quick-tempered and easily excitable. Often hungry and thirsty, they are lovers of sweet, bitter and astringent tastes (true) ... Pittas eat a great deal and have a tendency to obesity. They are jealous in nature" (admittedly, very true, on both of the final counts).

I was on a five-day program, consisting of two and a half hours of therapy, which is a fancy euphemism for blissful pampering, an Ayurvedic diet, plus daily herbal tonics and checkups.

Every day provided a new experience.

On day one, I had a mix of hot oils drizzled over my head, was massaged from head to toe and left the center smelling like a highly spiced fruit compote. On day two, I was permitted to have a treatment at one of the completed villas, with a paste made from 10 different types of bark piled onto my head and smothered over my body. It was allowed to dry for 20 minutes, before being washed off in a herbal bath.

On other days, it was more of the same, plus sauna or foot therapies. Of all the treatments, the most heavenly was a face massage and mask, made from honey and herbs, on my last day.

Despite the concentration on its cosmetic benefits by some Western interests, Ayurveda is serious business when it comes to treating health problems, although it's not a quick fix and lengthy treatment programs are usually prescribed for an effective cure.

The doctor at the villas told how they had successfully treated people with conditions such as stroke-induced paralysis, diabetes, even chronic migraines. An Indian-born colleague recounted how an Ayurvedic course was able to cure a pustule which developed on his hand and which Western medicine was unable to treat.

For my combined ills of stress and obesity, I took a combination of a clove of garlic in honey, a black-colored herbal drink and two herbal pills, daily before breakfast. At night before going to bed, my prescription was a sachet of detoxifying dry herbs, which I was required to steep in hot water for 10 minutes. Although bitter-tasting, they were no worse than jamu (Indonesian traditional medicine).

Alcohol and smoking are off-limits during the treatment, but the Ayurvedic diet is not about denial, even for the overweight. It is tailored to each patient's needs, and sometimes includes animal products, especially the nutritional qualities of fish, plus heaping doses of spices in nourishing the body to build up immunity.

I enjoyed some aspects of the diet, especially the dhal (lentil stews) and typically spicy Sri Lankan curries, but I have never liked the taste of fish. I must confess that, weak-willed wretch that I am, I went off the diet more than once in the last couple of days and sneaked food from the hotel restaurant's buffet.

Notwithstanding my indiscretions in the dietary department and the fact that the doctor recommends that patients with serious health concerns take a 14, 21 or even 30-day program, I did feel a renewed sense of well-being as I headed back to Jakarta.

Even the spectacle of customs officers at Soekarno-Hatta International Airport going through one of my bags and trying to decide if a jar of chili paste needed to be declared did not get a rise out of me.

Or, at least, not as big a one as usual.