My abs are screaming, but I haven't done a single sit-up. I'm lounging on a swinging daybed at The Retreat, a wellness resort hidden in the Costa Rican rainforest 45 minutes west of the country's capital, San José. My core workout is courtesy of my new friend, Marco, who put me in stitches recounting his first hot yoga class some years ago. “She told me a Speedo was mandatory,” he said, nodding in the direction of his wife, Anna, who was soaking in the hot tub. “Of course everyone was dressed in shorts and I looked like an Olympic swimmer.”
I had met the couple two days prior at The Retreat's daily restorative yoga class and found myself reconnecting with them, and other guests, over mocktails and during hikes throughout my four-day stay. It was a delightful departure from my recent experiences at destination spas where the majority of my interactions were with clinicians and therapists behind closed doors.
After COVID, Diana Stobo, who opened The Retreat in 2016, noticed a lot of pent-up desire for social interaction. Guests would gather to chat on the meditation deck and staff would have to shush them so as to not interrupt spa-goers. “No one hangs out anymore,” Stobo observed. “Everyone is on social media or working alone in a cubicle or at home.” But as she gleaned, guests were craving contact and connection.
So last June she opened Santosha Wellness Club, a $4 million expansion intended to create a sense of community. Set below the main hotel, the new open-air clubhouse includes 10 guest lofts, a gym and yoga studio, an infinity pool, and two restaurants led by acclaimed Costa Rican chef Pablo Bonilla. While the resort's original spa and restaurant areas were intended for quieter, more introspective moments, here guests can mingle over cocktails and live music.
When longevity entered the zeitgeist a few years ago, it sparked an obsession with life-extending hacks like intermittent fasting and sessions in hyperbaric oxygen chambers. A new wave of high-tech diagnostic-driven spas followed. In 2023, the World Health Organization declared loneliness a global health concern. “People forget that longevity isn't all about what you eat or do but also who you surround yourself with,” Stobo told me. “What's the point of living to 102 if you're lonely?”
More spas are tapping into the power of human connection to improve mental and emotional health by offering social experiences and settings similar to The Retreat's clubhouse. The result is an atmosphere that feels less monastic and a bit more fun. “One reason we introduced alcohol is to prompt more social engagement,” said Mark Rivers, CEO of Canyon Ranch, the pioneering health spa in the United States. It had not allowed booze until recently. “People using vacation days want to unwind. We're creating environments that feel like an elevated resort where you don't have to use an inside voice.” The brand, which will debut its third location in Austin this fall, has been curating more “wellness light” retreats with activities like whiskey tastings and line dancing alongside yoga and bodywork. Communal areas, including mah-jongg parlors and living rooms, are being added across Canyon Ranch properties, Rivers noted.
New resorts are also embracing the movement, nurturing guests' social health by blending elements of traditional spas and nightclubs. When Scorpios, the famed beach club on Mykonos, opened its first hotel on Türkiye's Turquoise Coast in 2024, the brand put as much emphasis on wellness as it did on nightlife. The retreat's roster of international healers is as impressive as its lineup of visiting DJs and musicians. The vibe is similar at the year-old Ahãma, also on the Turkish coast, where guests commune during sound baths and tea ceremonies, pop into the longevity center to detox in the ozone sauna, then reconvene on the beach at sunset to dance to live bands or drum circles.
I'm an introvert, which can make socializing feel more daunting than a HIIT workout. At The Retreat I appreciated that nothing was forced. I spent some days alone, enjoying the spa and reading by the pool. But on this trip I realized that time spent with others lowers my stress level. Worries about work and life disappeared while I was unabashedly spinning in circles during an ecstatic dance class with Marco and Anna or sharing a plate of warm churros at the communal table in the sunset lounge of Santosha while a bossa nova band played under the stars. I left feeling both rested and energized; I vowed when I got home to not only journal and meditate regularly but also let loose and laugh with friends a little more often.
This article appeared in the January/February 2026 issue of Condé Nast Traveler. Subscribe to the magazine here.
