Dark Red, Almost Black

It’s the cherries. Dark red, almost black, gleaming in their bowl, carrying the whole sweetness and melancholy of summer’s slow fade. Nothing unusual for seasonal fruit. What is unusual is to find them at the exact point of ripeness, on the exact right day, on a fruit plate in a hotel room over-looking the Swiss Alps, washed in milky-golden afternoon light. Instantly it’s clear: this is a good place. Where there are cherries like these, everything else can be trusted too.

By late August the horizon already glows with the lush green of summer’s end. Colours grow paler, shadows sharper, the wind crisp. This year, too, St. Moritz will have its autumn and winter, as one of the sunniest places in Switzerland. But for now, there are still juicy peaches, nectarines, mirabelles and cherries. Details like these, the small, easily overlooked refinements, set the Kulm apart. Luxury doesn’t only mean abundance, but receiving the right thing at exactly the right moment. That’s the higher art. Anyone moving through this storied house with open senses will find more of it.

Two things have a long tradition in St. Moritz: innovation and movement. The birthplace of winter tourism. The first place in Switzerland with electric light, nearly 150 years ago. A world-renowned stage for hiking, golf, bobsleigh, horse racing. Over the centuries, people, nature and technology have kept adjusting to one another, with respect and humility. Today, St. Moritz is cosmopolitan, offering physical and mental well-being at the highest level. Yet it has preserved the charm of a stubborn mountain village, thanks not least to its particular history and its people. Here, things are always in motion, they have to be, especially in a place so close to nature’s forces. The steep climbs and descents of its narrow lanes have always demanded that residents and visitors be careful, enduring and grateful for every pause. The Kulm takes on the task of helping with that balance, not vaguely recalling its original character but actively tending to it.

True recovery begins when you know everything important is in good hands, your body included. For the past ten years the spa, under the direction of the hotel’s general manager Jenny Hunkeler, has welcomed guests with a holistic treatment menu. It shows how essential a feel for deep regeneration is, and what it takes to enable it. Pleasant, spicy scents. Soft light. Pale wood. The understated elegance of the interior and the unhurried composure of the therapists create the perfect frame for letting go, briefly or for a long while. Those who come here are held by strong hands, warm loungers, soft towels, hot steam.

Jenny Hunkeler beams when she talks about her work, choosing words and gestures with care. The spa’s programme and its curation of skincare brands evolve through deliberate processes, sparked by personal contacts and an ever-alert eye for the right partners. The aim, she says, are long-term partnerships with space to grow. Guests’ wishes are given special attention too. Yet in the fast-moving wellness world, where new treatments and products are crowned almost weekly, it’s vital not to lose focus, and above all not to lose one’s identity as a house of tradition. Intuition is key, says Hunkeler. A trained yoga instructor herself, she finds her centered stance in short morning sessions. One of the spa’s signature offerings is the Sports Massage, which harmonises body and mind, inside and out, loosening even the deepest tension. From the pool the eyes are drawn towards the majestic, furrowed peak of Piz Rosatsch. Above e tree line it looks a little parched, as if it could use a treatment of its own. Especially if you’ve just enjoyed one yourself. Relaxation makes room for empathy. “Silence is the most beautiful music a person can enjoy,” wrote the Swiss poet Gottfried Keller. A line that grows truer the longer the silence lasts.

Back to the cherries. People often claim that if life were eternal, we wouldn’t appreciate it. Or in this case, perhaps: if cherries of this quality were available year-round, they’d lose their taste, their allure. With their sweetness still lingering on my tongue I wonder if that’s really true. And if not? What if it weren’t wrong at all to be in the best possible state as often and as long as possible? Rested, grounded, content, calm, alive, awake. St. Moritz, and the Kulm at its centre, widen the gaze outward and inward too. Every few years a study comes along reminding us that modern humans aren’t so different from their, well, less modern ancestors of a thousand or ten thousand years ago. Not built for too much comfort. Not suited for constant relaxation. Not able to process endless rewards. Caught in the eternal tension between stress and recovery, I ask myself, cherry pit in my mouth, is that how it’s meant to be? Is it really impossible for a human being to hold onto that just-right state for more than a few moments, hours, days? Maybe. Maybe not. You’d have to try. It would simply mean staying here forever.