The morning started with a "gross fango" and ended with a "mega brain". Well, don't they all? I was in Portoroz, on Slovenia's Adriatic coast, a stone's throw from Trieste, over the Italian border. Slovenia is an up-and-coming centre for thermal tourism and is popular with people from all over Europe for its Mediterranean climate and relaxed, unhurried charm.
The secret lies in the particular salt that is found in the mud, which, when combined with seawater, or the thermal water that bubbles up from the earth, creates a variety of treatments that produce healing effects on the body and boost well being. Like most 21st-century visitors, I had not come for the cure. I was here to experience some serious pampering. This was a first for me, never having been to anything remotely resembling a health spa before, and it began with a half-day programme of treatments at the Palace Hotel.
Medical formalities completed - pulse and blood pressure measured - I was given the green light and led off for my first session, the curiously named "gross fango". The Palace Hotel's brochure told me that "fango" is a form of salt mud. In particular, it is Istrian clay containing high concentrations of minerals. My nose told me that it must have also contained elements of something that had died a long time before even the Romans - who were were the first to catch on to the healing effects of the salts in the waters in this area.
A stern looking assistant, who had as much starch in her manner as there was in her white coat, gave me a skimpy thong to change into. A large plastic bucket was filled with the "fango", which glopped from an industrial-size rubber hose. She poured out half of the contents of the bucket in the middle of a massage table. "Please sit," she said, pointing to the wobbly mound of sticky, dark brown goo, which looked like a giant cow pat. I settled my naked posterior gingerly into the mud and slithered down into a lying position on my back.
The mud went everywhere. It also oozed out from between her fingers in large dollops as she scooped up fistfuls of the "fango" and smeared it liberally over my neck, shoulders, arms and chest, and downwards until my whole body was covered in its cloying embrace. Then she wrapped me in a sheet of plastic and rolled me in fluffy white towels, and left to me cook for 20 minutes. It was what I imagine becoming a human version of cr&eciec;pe au chocolat must be like. It took almost as long to wash the "fango" off in the shower.
The next treatment was reflexology, which began with an automated footbath utilising a charmingly-named contraption called a wigo-whirl. It left me feeling nicely tickled. Then I was stretched out on a massage table while a man prodded and pulled, stretched and squished, rubbed and rotated my feet for a good half an hour. I already knew that the point of reflexology is that all the parts of the body are connected to your feet, and that all-over health and well being can be promoted by having your feet massaged. What I was not prepared for was how relaxing I found the experience. By the end of it, my feet felt great.
In the Vichy massage, a woman in a white coat laid me face down on a table and trained a steel pipe over the length of my body. Thermomineral water - which is sourced from a depth of over 700m and is a very pleasant 23C - spurted from half-a-dozen jets. The woman told me that, like all the water in this part of Slovenia, it contained elements - in this case mainly sulphur and sodium chloride - which were very good for me. As well as being caressed by the warm water, she also applied oils. The overall effect was extremely relaxing.
The "mega brain" session, which sounded like something out of a James Bond film, took place in a small room. I was seated in a comfortable armchair and a footstool was positioned under my feet. Then the hi-tech stuff began. A pair of headphones was placed over my ears from which emanated a continuous series of buzzes that occasionally varied in pitch, and which lasted for half an hour. No one was able to tell me exactly what it was supposed to do, but my guess was that it was a relaxation aid - not that I am any kind of expert, you understand, but simply because I nodded off.
Having spent a hectic morning lying around, I repaired for lunch. I reasoned that I was going to need all my stamina for the afternoon session, a Wai-Thai massage, performed by skilled practioners, graduates no less of traditional Thai massage schools in Bangkok and Chiang Mai. The principle was to promote the flow of life energy throughout the body.
The massage centre was housed inside the Hotel Morje. Behind its modern exterior I immersed myself in a world of oriental carvings, colourful paper lanterns and richly decorated red and gold silks.
The massage itself lasted for more than 90 minutes and included hot sponges containing aromatic oils. These were administered with a kneading action - it felt like the heat was literally being pushed through my body and into my bones. I emerged from the session walking on air.
Gaining a few pounds, or lire to be exact, is the name of the game in the evenings. There are casinos everywhere, and because gaming in Slovenia is tax free the Italians flood in from across the border in large numbers. To encourage them further the Slovenes allow them to play in their own currency, which is quite a neat trick because it creates the notion that they'll be going home with some.
It also means that even the most modest denominations of chips have an impressive number of noughts on them - very handy if, like me, you were a bit of a novice at this game and needed all the help you could get to affect a high-roller image. It also meant that £20 bought me a large stack of chips which kept me going for an hour on the roulette and blackjack tables, before I lost it all. Play to win by all means, but my further advise is only play with money you are prepared to lose. All the casinos were very relaxed in terms of atmosphere, and I saw lots of T-shirts and not a single tuxedo.
A very different experience was provided by the fishing village of Piran just round the headland, with its pocket handkerchief town square, winding streets, Venetian church and harbourside restaurants overlooking the yachts and local fishing boats.
With a fresh-fish supper and a bottle of wine costing £15 per head, you didn't have to be the man who broke the bank at Monte Carlo to dine out in style. It was just what the doctor ordered after a hard day's relaxing, especially as I had another one to look forward to the following day.
Way to go
Holiday Options (01444 244499, www.holidayoptions.co.uk) offers seven nights' B&B at the five-star Grand Hotel Emona in Portoroz for £465pp including scheduled flights from Heathrow and transfers. Treatments at the Terme Palace (+386 5 69 69 001, www.hoteli-palace.si)): medical examination £8, gross fango £12, Vichy massage £12, reflexology £16. A wide range of beauty treatments are also available. Wai-Thai massage: +386 (0)66 472 0000, www.hoteli-morje.si. Slovenian Tourist Board: 020-7287 7133, www.tourist-board.si
