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Fatigue index: very bad. Nervous system: unbalanced. Physical stress: very high. There they were: the worst grades I’d ever received, glaring at me from a screen inside the spotless treatment room. “Could it be because of my busy travel day?” I ask hopefully, adjusting my robe and settling back into the cream leather chair. “I woke up at 3 a.m. to get here.” The white-coat-clad doctor shakes her head, a sympathetic no. I’ve just arrived at SHA Mexico, a luxury wellness resort where a lifetime of bodily transgressions (in my case, too much work and too much wine) are laid bare. Over the course of each stay, and after a handful of soul-crushing tests, the goal is to learn how to live better and longer via a combination of high-tech integrative medicine and “healing” nutrition. That means no booze or coffee (unless you ask — and it’s frowned upon). No processed sugar or dairy or red meat. Lots of exercise. And a buffet of optional alternative treatments, depending on your goal and your budget. Following the popularity of the original SHA resort in Spain, visited by celebrities such as Kate Beckinsale and Poppy Delevingne, this one opened in 2024 just a 30-minute drive from the Cancun airport. While this is arguably the last place you’d expect an alcohol-free wellness retreat, somehow it works. Located on a quiet stretch of beach in Costa Mujeres, the 101-room resort features plush amenities, a five-star spa, and healthy smoothies that somehow taste identical to piña coladas. Sipping on one at the infinity pool overlooking the turquoise Caribbean Sea, I could almost forget about the free-flowing tequila at neighbouring resorts dotting the coast. SHA is luxurious, this is true. During my stay, I have one of the best massages of my life and spend every spare moment floating in a hydrotherapy pool that faces a tropical forest. My oceanfront suite is as big as my condo (and better decorated). Staff outnumber guests at least four to one. They remember your name and your room number and the fact that you hate the shot of apple cider vinegar you’re required to sip at the start of every meal. Wellness tourism is big business, worth $830 billion (U.S.) globally and growing, according to the non-profit Global Wellness Institute. But today’s travellers are expecting more than a spa and a wheatgrass smoothie. Longevity tourism is the latest, more science-y take on the trend, in which you attempt to biohack your life, and resorts like SHA are at the forefront. Here, wellness isn’t a massage on the beach followed by a nap in a hammock. It’s work — glorious work — and you are expected to follow the clinical plan. In return, the resort promises to “transform lives … in the shortest possible time.” Before arriving, I’d signed up for the four-night Rebalance & Energize program to “relieve stress, re-balance the body’s systems, and revitalize its functions at the cellular level.” In other words, it’s an entry-level program that won’t scare noobs like me. My agenda has standard offerings like private training sessions, cryotherapy and acupuncture, as well as consultations with a doctor and nutritionist. But after my disastrous stress-test results, my planner adds in some extras: an osteotherapy consultation to address my physical tension; ozone therapy via IV, purportedly a way to boost my immune system; and a 50-minute private lesson on breathing for wellness. That last session turns out to be one of the most rewarding of the weekend. “I don’t want mindfulness to feel like something else to cross off on my never-ending to-do list,” I explain to my instructor inside a quiet room that faces the sea and smells like incense. She walks me through techniques to reduce my body’s constant fight-or-flight mode, including my personal favourite: Take a deep breath into your abdomen, then make a hissing sound as you exhale slower than you ever thought possible. Sounds elementary, I know. But I’ve been doing it every day since. Because of these additions, my calendar is packed, which means I spend a lot of time dreaming about lying on the beach while hustling from appointment to appointment in the six-storey spa. (To be fair, guests can cancel a session or block free time with a quick WhatsApp message.) My consultations with doctors and nutrition experts continue throughout my stay. In some cases, they’re definitely trying to sell me something, like a $10,000 stem cell treatment or Sculptra for my collagen-depleted skin, because here at SHA, aging better includes aging hotter. But they also ask me questions about my health that no one has in years. How am I sleeping? Meh. Am I constipated? Surprisingly, no. Why have I been on the contraceptive pill since 2005? Because no one has ever offered me an alternative. In comparison, the last time I saw my GP four years ago, he asked me if we’d met before. Many travellers come to lose weight, and there are programs designed for that. Even if that’s not your goal, all meals are nutritionist-approved, fresh or organic, and largely plant-based. A typical breakfast includes miso soup (good for digestion), followed by rice porridge or coconut chia pudding, and hummus and vegetables, and nuts or protein balls. No beverages are allowed during meals, not even water (drinks allegedly impede digestion), but I ask for coffee afterwards because I’m not a masochist. Lunch is two courses of healthful dishes, like parmentier potatoes and quinoa and tabbouleh, followed by a dessert like coconut panna cotta. At dinner, it’s more of the same but never repetitive. Surprisingly, most of the time I’m not hungry between meals. Snacks and smoothies are available, but we’re politely encouraged not to stray from our three meals. In fact, when I order guacamole and vegetables one afternoon because I’m not sure I can wait until dinner, I have to sign a waiver that notes if I deviate from the plan, I won’t see the results I’ve signed up for. It’s the best guac I’ve ever had. Still, the former health editor in me isn’t sold on everything. There’s a lot of talk about detoxing, which we know the liver does effectively all on its own. Additional optional services, such as blood work or hormone testing, not included in my plan, are sometimes added to my “prescription” after each session. Supplements are recommended and also, conveniently, for sale in the resort’s boutique. But for every time I’m told something doubtful — like how my “closed off” pelvis is “blocking creativity,” or how a certain seaweed body wrap will help get rid of toxins — I learn something genuinely useful I can bring home. At the very least, my time at the resort gave me a chance to sit and listen and learn from my body in a way I haven’t done in years, maybe ever. I’d go back in a heartbeat. Just hold the apple cider vinegar shots. Carli Whitwell travelled as a guest of SHA Mexico, which did not review or approve this article.
