I discovered thalassotherapy about 10 years ago on a trip to Tunisia, where I checked into the five-star Hadsrubal Thalassa and Spa at Yasmine Hammamet, at the time the biggest thalassotherapy centre in the country. I signed up for four treatments and joined dozens of middle-aged and elderly European couples who had come to steam, swim and soak in grand style and be pampered with industrial quantities of marine algae and salt scrubs. The facilities and treatments, including saltwater pools, jet baths, massages and wraps, were available at a fraction of their cost in Europe. It was the first of several trips to the country in which I always made time for the spa, whether a traditional Tunisian hammam on the street or a five-star affair with scrubbing mixtures including honey, sand, crushed dates and olive oil. I even braved the “douche jet”, where I stood at the end of a long tiled room with my hands against the wall and had my thighs, buttocks and stomach blasted with a high-pressure jet not unlike a fire hose.

Fast forward to 2015 and I’m checking in to the Sofitel Bahrain Zallaq Thalassa Sea & Spa resort, which has the only such thalassotherapy centre in the GCC. It’s not on quite the same scale as the Tunisian operation, and there’s no douche jet, but it’s impressive nonetheless: light, airy, modern and luxurious. Fittingly, the head therapist, Loubna, is from Hammamet and is a former employee of Hadsrubal, so I know I’m in good hands. I have a 36-hour programme, a short break “Zen Getaway Stay” which is comprised of six treatments. During this time I won’t lose weight or undergo a transformation (there are week-long programmes available for this), but I’m hoping to come away feeling relaxed and perhaps slightly firmer in places.

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#healthyliving magazine: Your guide to the Water Issue

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But first, what is thalassotherapy? From the Greek word for sea, thalassa, it’s the medicinal use of seawater. Although it can be said to date back to the Romans and was popular in Britain and France in the 19th century, its application in a health spa-type setting is relatively new. One early investor in and developer of the modern practice was French cyclist and three-time winner of the Tour de France, Louis “Louison” Bobet, who, recovering from a serious accident in 1961 and having undergone several complicated operations, discovered that the road back to health and fitness lay in the curative properties of seawater. Thoroughly impressed by the sea’s power of healing, Bobet decided to share this “miracle” by opening his first thalassotherapy institute in Quiberon, Brittany, in 1964.

The reason for the success of the treatments lies in the belief that when the (filtered) seawater is heated, beneficial minerals are absorbed through the pores. It also boosts blood circulation.

My programme begins with a swim in the saltwater pool. It’s extremely buoyant, and only a tiny amount of chlorine is used. I turn on the powerful jets and immediately begin to feel more alert, as if my muscles are relaxing and becoming oxygenated. Next I’m taken into a treatment room and, after donning disposable underwear, lie face up on a state-of-the-art German hydrotherapy bed, where I’m scrubbed from head to foot in salt before being gently doused in water. The exfoliation is intended to purify, softening skin and eliminating dead skin, Loubna says, “preparing it to absorb the marine extracts ... Heated between 34°C and 36°C, seawater promotes the process of osmosis, enabling the absorption of minerals and trace elements to regenerate the body”. It’s brilliantly relaxing and invigorating, and not as traumatic as a traditional hammam.

Next I’m put in a multijet bath with added algae to be pummeled from various angles, designed for “overall sculpting”.

After a fantastic Friday brunch (which I feel may somewhat counteract the health benefits I’m here to experience) I return to the same bath, but this time another therapist manually applies what looks like a vacuum cleaner (though it’s actually a jet) to my legs, stomach, arms and back, working with the blood flow.

Again, the pressure can be adjusted, but soon I begin to feel uncomfortably hot. The therapist says this is because the circulation has been increased, and lowers the intake temperature. I then have a 30-minute Swedish massage to round off the day.

My final day involves more swimming, then a “watermass slimming” session on another flat bed, in which Loubna applies a watery suction cup to what she calls the “Bermuda Triangle” area of the thighs, buttocks and stomach.

“You have very light cellulite,” she says. The process takes a bit of getting used to (I prefer light pressure) but the theory is that by stimulating the blood circulation, cellulite can be broken down.

My final treatment is an “affusion shower,” where, lying on a flat bed face up at first, I’m doused in a fine shower of water in a gentle sweeping action. I leave with firm thighs and a feeling of balance, and can imagine this would be a great kick-start to a fitness programme for anyone, particularly the overweight or those with stiff joints. Feeling lighter, I head straight upstairs to join a belly-dancing class.

Treatments at the Sofitel Bahrain Zallaq Thalassa Sea & Spa (www.sofitel.com/bahrain; 00973 1763 6363), cost from 15 Bahraini dinars (Dh150). Longer treatment plans can be booked as a package. Etihad flies to Bahrain from Dh800 return, including taxes.

rbehan@thenational.ae