I prepare for my no sugar, no meat, no caffeine stay at Palace Merano by settling down at the airport for a full English and pot of tea, Mini Eggs stashed for the plane. Okay, and a caffeinated tea bag in case of decaffeinated despair. And an emergency Wagon Wheel… I’m pleased to say I manage not to touch either; the power of the Palace is all-consuming.

Almost everyone there already knows it; 80 per cent of guests are repeat visitors so they know to pack almost nothing. I, too, soon realise I’ll spend most of my time in a dressing gown, paper spa pants or gym gear. They also know that if you feel light-headed from a menu which is almost entirely fruit and vegetables, you can ask for a stick of honey; I do just that after my first stretching class. And they know that hydro-mud therapy is something of an acquired taste… more on that shortly.

Image: Alessandro Moggi

Getting here is a breeze. I fly SkyAlps from Gatwick to Bolzano, less than a half-hour drive from Palace, and admire the magnificent, snow-peaked Dolomites en route. Merano itself is a charming town in South Tyrol, part of Austria-Hungary until the end of the First World War, with a rushing river, pretty churches and Art Nouveau villas. Palace Merano marks its 120th anniversary this year, having opened in 1906 as a luxury hotel for Europe’s aristocracy, before serving as a military hospital during the Second World War, and becoming Italy’s first medical spa in 2000.

As I’m shown around by one of many lovely members of staff, I can see why discerning travellers, including Victoria Beckham and Cristiano Ronaldo, choose come here. The Palace lives up to its name; the foyer has soaring ceilings, pale pink pillars, gilt touches, huge flower displays and glittering chandeliers. If I’m going to be on meagre rations, it might as well be somewhere beautiful.

My guide indicates the glamorous bar as we pass. “For cocktails.” Really?! “Mocktails, of course,” he adds with a smile. There’s a lot to take in. The expansive Revital Medical Centre takes up the whole of floor five and the sauna, pools and fitness do the same on -1 (turns out I’ll be spending a lot of time here for the daily treatments). Breakfast and lunch are served in a bright, airy garden-facing area – outside when the weather is good – and supper is in the grand main restaurant, making simple meals rather more of an occasion.

In my fourth-floor room – there are 90 in the main Palace and nine suites in the adjoining Castle – I open the mini bar to find a bottle of water. That’s it. The room itself is high-ceilinged and cream-hued, with a chandelier, chaise longue and a generally elegant feel; I love the Giacometti-esque bedside lamps. The desk has a cleverly placed mirror which reflects the gorgeous Alpine views as I do the odd email (sorry, Palace team, this is technically a work trip) and a vase of fresh roses scents the room. Birds sing a welcome to me when I throw open the balcony door as if I’m Snow White . This is the perfect place, I feel, for ‘a path of deep regeneration’, as my welcome note promises; I will discover ‘a lighter, brighter version’ of myself. Excellent. Here we go.

Given Palace is all about ‘Health For Life’, you can facilitate wellness in just about every part of your life here. The offering is extensive. An on-site lab means blood tests results are back in hours. Bone density can be checked. There’s a new Sport & Recovery Lab, with cognitive testing for memory and concentration, and a treadmill for identifying issues with gait and posture. Elsewhere, Dr Elisa Bolleta runs a whole range of ‘regenerative medical aesthetics’; high-tech treatments, injectables, infusions, lasers and so on. No surprise to learn there’s three staff to every guest; we are treated like royalty.

As the affable Dr Max – who has worked here for 30 years – explains, diet is at the centre of everything but “losing weight is not the primary goal; that is eliminating toxins.” If you’re on the Detox programme like me (700-800 calories a day), your schedule includes daily massage and hydro-mud therapy to help the toxin banishment. As nice as they are, I imagine an empty schedule would also allow too much dwelling on what is not being eaten or drunk. The massages are not request-what-you-like; they are all about Chinese energetic stimulation, hence the cups that suck away at skin and chunks of flesh. All in the name of detox, of course.

So too is the hydro-mud therapy, which has three stages. I’ll try to be brief. First: a Jacuzzi-style massage bath, complete with lights. Lovely. Second: the body is painted with sea-grass-scented mud and cocooned in plastic wrap on hot floating bed. Staff say ‘good night’ merrily and leave you there in the dark. Last: be hosed clean, almost naked, by a practitioner standing three metres away with a shower jet. I’m sure it’s not the aim but I feel like a filthy labrador being washed off after rolling in something pungent. It’s a catch-22; if you relax enough to fall asleep during the mud wrap, which I do on day two, the hose-down after is worse.

As Dr Max says, “We prescribe people what they need, not what they want,” and I do feel good overall. I sleep eight hours straight the second night and don’t feel that hungry, despite being a voracious snacker at home. And as someone who definitely never goes a day without sugar, I am surprisingly headache free. I fill unscheduled hours with strolls around Merano, visits to Palace’s fantastic thermal area, swims and Energy Awakening sessions at 8 and 9am (included on my programme). Nataliya is brilliant and I end up having a private session one day when no one else turns up. No stone is left unturned; the glam dietician Dr Chiara Riva recommends seitan (when I denounce tofu’s tastelessness) and linseeds (grind them up), promising to send recipes which are duly printed and left in my room.

A bit keen for the 7.30pm supper start, I’m offered a shot as I pass the bar. Cue a raised eyebrow from me and a turmeric concoction from barista John. I manage to make the following three courses of vegetables followed by a herbal tea last 40 minutes. It’s lucky I love vegetables. Sample menu: white asparagus, garlic soup and vegetables in curry sauce with five pieces of tofu. No salt. There must be minimal wastage here. I’m tempted to lick the plate; cutlery clatters as people attempt to scrape up the vegan chervil mayo (a lot better than it sounds). I discover barley coffee and that I can drink herbal tea if it’s all that’s on offer. I leave not hungry but not full. The whole experience is elevated by a live pianist, white tablecloths and water in wine glasses.

I do lose a couple of kilograms – inevitable on such rations, and given how many toxins must have been persuaded to leave me – but my biggest takeaway is discovering that what I need, for a healthier life, couldn’t be simpler. Or cheaper. Better breathing. That’s it. Even on a short, diluted version of the experience, a few staff mention low oxygen, taking air right down into my diaphragm and needing to let tension out. And breathe…

Four-day Detox & Longevity programme (not including accommodation) from £2,850, visit palace.it. SkyAlps flies from London Gatwick to Bolzano up to four times a week from July 2026 from €148 each way, skyalps.com.

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