so you can get the most out of your experience. Thirdly, mealtimes are incredibly important, not because of what you can have but because of what you can’t. Everything hangs on a small white card at your table, next to your prescribed pill supplements, powders and drops, which indicates which meal you will be served. It starts at Level 0 (tea fasting) up to Level 3/2 and the most substantial of all: the Energy Cuisine Active menu (an additional ¤20 per day). Breakfast and lunch are at the reasonable times of 7 to 8.30am and 12 until 1.30pm but supper is during the child-friendly (and daylight-filled) window of 5pm to 6.30pm; even for someone like me – I am usually hungry enough to eat as soon as I get home from work – that is pretty early. And given the fact that most guests (the ones who are eating, not fasting) turn up well past 6pm and the restaurant is still half full at 7, everyone agrees. Then again, we must trust that the medical team knows what’s best for us better than we do – that’s why we’re all here – so obedience is key. I am confused at first when it comes to breakfast, which comes half an hour after taking Epsom salts (which do not taste great and result in rather loose movements), when I discover that a ‘chewing trainer’ is not a dog toy and there is a baffling array of milk alternatives. I can mix and match from a variety of plain yoghurts, breads, spreads and porridges; the oatmeal porridge is most appetising, flavoured with cinnamon and a little pot of maple syrup, and although the spelt bread is tough, the cheese spread helps to add flavour. I ask to sit by myself rather than on a group table so I can concentrate on chewing every mouthful the recommended 30 to 40 times. The group tables, I observe, usually contain at least one chatterbox and someone looking a bit dejected at having less to eat than their neighbour; couples talk less than usual as they concentrate on their meals; and some ladies are dressed up for supper, making a lovely effort to create a proper dining experience out of a meal that comprises only soup. My favourite dishes are king prawns on steamed vegetables and a terrine of bitter chocolate (hallelujah!), and I also discover that both celery soup and tofu can be delicious.
You’ll spend plenty of time in your room and mine is beautifully minimalist. The amount of storage nods to the fact that guests should stay for a minimum of seven nights and ideally longer to get the full benefits of the Mayr regime. The predominant colour is, unsurprisingly, bright white but soft mushroom-grey sofas, bed throws and dressing gowns (with a thoughtful zip pouch inside the pocket for your room key card) add cosy touches. I like the fact that lighter-weight dressing gowns are provided too, and a hot water bottle to soothe turbulent stomachs. The floor-to-ceiling windows open out onto a chic wooden balcony with gorgeous views. There’s a huge rain shower and generous bath, although rather hard to lie in and read (First-World problem, agreed). Behind it is the only design element I don’t like – an expanse of a brown-yellow blurry print that’s used in the LansMed area too – but otherwise I’m very happy. On the medical side of things, you’ll start with a bioimpedance measurement where your body composition is assessed and your weight and height etcetera recorded, followed by a medical exam. I wait to be collected on the ‘Blue Sofa’, aka the epicentre of the LansMed area, by Dr. Elke Benedetto-Reisch, who reminds me of a blonde Edna Mode from The Incredibles. She is undoubtedly very knowledgeable but she is also intimidating. I strip down and am poked, prodded and peered at until she declares: “You’re not even… What’s the English word for that?” “Asymmetric?” I suggest. “Yes.” I am also told I am pale and that my stomach is swollen, neither of which I can disagree with. However, the Lady Doctor (as staff refer to her) is impressed with my progress after a few days and, because I’ve been on a fuller meal plan, the treatments definitely play a part in my improvement. The Detox Pack & Bath is done by the lovely Michael (he’s on the regime too and has lost four kilograms in five days). There’s somewhat of a language barrier (we spend an amusing minute working out what the word for ‘claustrophobia’ is in each other’s language, only for Michael to learn that I am in fact not claustrophobic). It’s perfectly pleasant though. Embrace your European side as there is no time for being coy.