R is for Rodney Yee

At Parrot Cay, the private island resort in the Turks and Caicos, Julia Roberts never left her villa. The late George Harrison asked for extra curtains for even greater privacy, and Bruce Willis has just built his own fiefdom, managed by the resort, to dodge the waiting list for the hotel's beachside villas.

Parrot Cay has always been for A-listers. It's unremittingly chic: large, airy, pine-furnished rooms, vast verandas, muslin-draped four-posters. There are three miles of white-sand beaches. Service is impeccable, the food exquisite. But its spa, Shambhala, is Parrot Cay's X-factor. It's where Demi Moore and friends come to get their guru fix, from yoga master to naturopath, making other Caribbean spas look as pass? as Seventies massage parlours.

I join a Healing Week, a yoga retreat led by Rodney Yee, co-director of the Piedmont Yoga Studio in California, and a demigod in America whose devotees include Donna Karan. I'm promised five hours of yoga a day plus holistic treatments in between. Shambhala is special. Yoga, Pilates and Ayurvedic weathered-pine pavilions overlook lush vegetation and the sea. Everything has been done to make the place, and by extension its visitors, feel at one with nature.

I meet Rodney, who is laid-back, lives for the moment and is at ease within it. When I explain I'm a stiff-as-a-board beginner, he is delighted: my improvement will be all the greater. And now, here I am, struggling to touch my toes which seem as far away as my hammock (a more desirable destination for the first 20 minutes). But Rodney doesn't judge, and there's something about him that makes you want to keep trying. I take a sneaky peek around the class of 15, and see varying degrees of ability. Rodney explains that yoga means unity. We run through a series of asanas (postures). 'Why do we think body, mind and spirit are separate?' says Rodney. 'Everything is spirit? Parrot Cay has a special breeze. Take that breeze and breathe.' As I gaze out over the ocean, I find to my amazement that I've been holding a steady 'tree' asana for a few minutes. The three-hour class whizzes by, and my hamstrings loosen to such an extent that my palms make contact with the earth as I bend forward, straight-legged.

Afternoon meditation and pranayama (breathing exercises) are followed by more essential treatments. First an Ayurvedic body scrub, then a four-hands massage and herbal steam, leaving me feeling uncannily ache-free. So dreamy is the combination of Shambhala and this kind-eyed philosopher that I cease to wonder if Bruce is going to show up in class. When the chauffeur says he's collecting him later, I find that, quite out of character, I simply don't give a damn.

A-Z travel guide for 2002