Spa D'Etat: The Peninsula Spa, Bangkok

The place to go for a Swedish massage, in Thailand

By Kevin Raub
Published: Dec 01, 2007

I'm not usually one to bitch and moan; after all, the life of a travel writer, especially one that sometimes focuses on spas, is pretty sweet. But for God sakes that doesn’t mean I want to ride in coach! That's exactly what I found myself doing, however, on my 17-hour direct flight from Los Angeles to Bangkok on Thai Airways. I was supposed to be upgraded at check-in (didn't happen), then at boarding (didn't happen), then once we were at cruising altitude (didn't happen). It turns out my chaperone from the airlines was either totally incompetent or absolutely powerless. Either way, there were plenty of empty business class seats, and I got stuck in the back of the bus. Not happy.

The point to all of this is that I had scheduled my spa appointment at the new Peninsula Spa by ESPA — a $4.8 million project that has put a fabulous new den of tranquility in where there were formerly only a few requisite treatment rooms — within an hour of arrival in the country. That's not something I would normally do. You see, if a visit to the spa was all about pampering and relaxation for me, I wouldn't mind. But being that I have to pay attention, make mental notes in my head, and be generally coherent in order to recreate the experience in all it's glamour and glory for the reading public later, the thought of a treatment under jet-lagged duress and a general haze sounded like a disaster (something a business class seat, as I was expected to have, would have eased greatly).

But since I spent the last 17 hours tossing and turning in a coach seat, a massage sounded like exactly what I needed, and be damned if, after the fact, I couldn’t remember the details of the lemongrass peppermint basil lychee foot scrub or the rosemary pineapple green curry-infused body oil massage. Just kidding. At any rate, all I want is to be nursed back to health.

It's hard to imagine the Peninsula Bangkok without a spa, but that's just how it was before Espa came to town in January. Now it's the grand dame of the hotel, a three-story, 22-treatment room sanctuary of serenity and blissful Asian-inspired delights. I booked a treatment simply called Time, where one books minutes (in my case, 110) rather than a specific treatment, then spends the ubiquitous Asian foot cleansing ritual consulting with a therapist, all of whom are trained in all available treatments, and afterwards, marches forth in whatever treatment combination is decided upon. It sounded strange, but I strangely liked it.

My therapist, Rattiya, and I decide on an invigorating body scrub followed by a Swedish massage. Yes, I realize that seems odd in Thailand, considering Thai massage is amazing, but there's a rhyme and reason to it. You see, in Thailand, you can get a ridiculous Thai massage nearly everywhere for under $10, so why pay $170 at the Peninsula? Conversely, you cannot get a Swedish massage anywhere in Stockholm for under $10, thankyouverymuch. Rattiya and I stand by our decision.

The body scrub is peppy and nice as body scrubs tend to go; the essential oils of menthol, grapefruit, and lime giving me a much-needed jolt while the deeply moisturizing oils of sweet almond, sunflower, and coconut make my skin feel as smooth as a Michael Jackson moonwalk circa "Billie Jean."

When I flip over for my massage, Rattiya places a steaming, lemony concoction on the floor below my nose and tells me to take a few deep breaths. It smells like Theraflu. That's O.K. as my nose is a little stopped up. As I take it in, I notice Rattiya is barefoot. Call me crazy, but I love this in a therapist. No, I do not have a foot fetish, but rather it is one of my gauges for whether or not this will be a serious holistic treatment given by a vaguely kooky therapist who truly believes in this art (kooky is good when it comes to massage); or if it will just be another massage by someone counting the hours on the time clock. This all makes sense to me, anyway.

As usual, my theory proves correct. From the moment Rattiya digs into my thighs like a drill bit trying to reach a missing coal miner, I feel like a tuk-tuk driver being revamped into Thai royalty. I immediately forget about my 17-hour ordeal in cattle class and -- at least until my return trip when it happens all over again -- my anger for Thai Airways. Then I remember: There are plenty of airlines that fly to Thailand, but there is only one Rattiya. Kop Koon Krap!

Spa Espa, Peninsula Bangkok; Doubles from $280; 66-2/861 2888; www.bangkok.peninsula.com

Kevin Raub is a freelance travel and entertainment writer who contributes regularly to Travel+Leisure, Town & Country, American Way, and Organic Spa, among others. When asked the usual, "When was your last professional massage?," he loves being able to answer, "Ummm, yesterday."

Browse All Features >