Blissed out in Beijing

By Gail Harrington

updated 2:35 p.m. ET Sept. 13, 2006

China’s capital represents the yin and yang of today’s spa culture with ancient herbal remedies offered in thoroughly modern settings. Welcome to the brave new world of pampering.

Whisked to the last empty seat in a row of recliner chairs, I am facing a huge flat-screen TV, bewitched, bothered, and bewildered on my first night in Beijing. I am about to have a reflexology treatment in one of the city’s storefront massage centers, and at 1 a.m., the place is packed with locals getting their weekly dose of preventive medicine after a night of clubbing or working late. The Chinese take their health very seriously; some massage centers even stay open until 3 a.m. so citizens can fit a quick treatment into their busy lives. After all, massage isn’t considered an indulgence in China, but rather a crucial link to good health.

My uniformed masseur — his name badge reads 00758 — washes my feet in a wooden bucket of hot water and sweet-smelling Chinese herbs. So far, he hasn’t spoken a single word, but when 007 starts working pressure points on my left foot, he suddenly announces, “Oscar, Oscar!” I look up at the television and see Charlize Theron on the red carpet and realize I have a front row seat to the most memorable Oscar party of my life. Imagine a gathering of strangers in Beijing having their feet rubbed while taking in the Academy Awards in English with Chinese subtitles. As I watch the stars in their stilettos, I receive a foot pummeling that sounds like applause as eight therapists in a row pound in unison.

My early-morning foot massage was just one of many contrasts evident in China’s rapidly changing capital, where old buildings are being razed to the ground or upstaged by futuristic architecture such as the National Theater, a silvery egg-shaped structure of titanium and glass that’s an astonishing contrast to the austere government buildings nearby on Tiananmen Square. Beijing is a city undergoing a unique metamorphosis that is melding past and future. It’s also a city on fast-forward as it preps itself for its global coming-out party, the 2008 Olympics, keen to show it’s as hip as any city in the world. And yet, ancient traditions haven’t been abandoned. Early every morning, the parks fill with mostly older Chinese practicing qi gong and tai chi. Smile and show some interest and you’ll be invited to join.

And while it’s a culture steeped in the arts of natural healing, Western-style spas have been slow to make their mark. Opened in 2001, the St. Regis Spa & Club is still Beijing’s only retreat that fits the conventional definition of a spa. Other five-star hotels have integrated traditional Chinese medicine with attempts at pampering into their fitness centers — they just don’t call their services spa treatments. You won’t see over-the-top decor, but you will see wellness in a whole new light. Healing methods such as herbalism, acupressure, and cupping and scraping spring from ancient practices and tempt us Westerners with their unpretentious, no-nonsense approach. In truth, it’s a refreshing change to witness their back-to-basics methods, all in the pursuit of good health.

The assembly line at my reflexology treatment was light-years away from my experience at The Peninsula Palace Beijing’s fitness center, which was soothing, attentive, and included a health diagnosis, an extra 007 didn’t provide. By law, hotels are required to match guests with a therapist of their same gender, so I was paired with The Peninsula’s Peggy Zhang. “There are 7,200 nerve endings in each foot that run through the organs to the brain,” explained Zhang. “The feet tell the story of your entire body. If any organ or part of the body is not functioning properly, the corresponding pressure point will swell slightly or you will feel pain even when I exert mild pressure.” As the session went on, I felt more and more relaxed, though I experienced the occasional sharp sensation, which helped Zhang zero in on some of my ailments. She offered this diagnosis: digestive problems (I’ve had four feet of small intestine removed due to an obstruction), bad knees (I had to stop running years ago), and insomnia (not really, but I do stay up too late), before finishing up with a relaxing massage of my calves to improve circulation.

The luxurious setting of The Peninsula seems an unlikely place for a doctor’s visit, but it is in keeping with Beijing’s allure. Traditional medicine isn’t only found in the hundreds of health-focused massage parlors and herbal medicine shops; it’s also available in the fitness center of this five-star hotel. The treatment room, decorated with Asian-style lamps and scrolls inscribed with Chinese calligraphy, makes you forget you’re in a health club, one with separate saunas and steam rooms for men and women, two treatment rooms, medical doctors on staff, and a strong focus on traditional healing. Massage options include aromatherapy, sports, abdominal, and a traditional Chinese head and shoulders option, as well as foot reflexology. Afterward, you can relax on cushioned teak chaises that line the hotel’s gorgeous glassed-in swimming pool.

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