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yachts and three planes. Arranging an outing on the tur- drooling on the sheets, I settled in for a soothing facial. If
quoise waters of the Kvarner Gulf was as easy as phoning it weren’t for the irresistible lure of being outdoors, inhal-
the Bellevue’s front desk. ing Losinj, I’d have spent every afternoon cocooned in the
Bellevue’s Spa Zone. It’s the ultimate rabbit hole for free
The captain of our 45-foot sailboat motored along lime- pampering treats: addictive “experience” showers that
stone shelves that skirt Losinj, noting points of interest change colors and rhythms and are infused with scent, a
– including a nude beach. He offered us secluded coves trio of saunas, relaxation rooms outfitted with warm stone
with crystal clear water for swimming. When we’d worked recliners and waterbeds…
up an appetite, he docked at Ilovik, the “Island of Flow-
ers,” just south of Losinj. Our appetizers were sweet ripe But I wanted more. As I and so many others have discov-
loquats we plucked from trees, mulberries we picked from ered over the past century, the real magic of Losinj – the
vines. At Dalmatinka restaurant on the harbor, we dined transformation that heals body and mind – happens
family style on fresh-from-the-bay turbot baked with veg- outdoors. It happens during late-afternoon walks. Or while
gies picked that morning from the chef’s garden. Dessert sitting with new friends at a seaside café, sipping herb-in-
was sweet thin pastry slathered in skuta – a ricotta-like fused Croatian brandy. It happens as the nightingale sings
cheese made from sheep’s milk, an island specialty. and the sickle moon dances on the tide. Just inhale. Fill up
your lungs. It happens.
We were back at Hotel Bellevue that afternoon in time for
spa treatments. After a hot-stone massage that had me

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