Maybe it was the airy, minimalist lobby or the perpetually beaming staff dressed in flowy white garments or the beaded, logo’d bracelet slipped onto my wrist at check-in—a.k.a. my room key—that made me feel like a cossetted newborn but also like I had signed myself into rehab. It was only after my husband and I were whisked by golf cart down a winding road lushly landscaped with jungle flora that I decided I should try to lean into it. After all, our Visa had been charged.I wasn’t looking for a wellness resort when I stumbled upon the regally dubbed Palmaïa, the House of Aïa. I was just looking for any Mexican beach hotel where I could take my tired body and cranky outlook for a…The post The Woo-Woo Mexican Spa Resort That Made a Wellness Believer Out of Me appeared first on Texas Monthly.
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