Fourteen years ago, my uncle Greg passed away at the age of 44 from a heart attack.

Ever since, my family has been acutely aware of our health. We’ve seen nutritionists, worked out with personal trainers, and done basically anything we can think of to better understand what happened to Greg and to prevent it from happening to us.

So when I had the chance to travel to the Austrian Alps this summer and stay at one of the top medical resorts in the world, I immediately said yes.

I’m Jess Feldman, the associate director of special projects at Travel + Leisure. In addition to running our World’s Best Awards, I chronicle the weird, wild world of wellness. I’ve gone on hiking retreats, visited communal saunas, and tried various styles of alternative medicine to cure my chronic migraines.

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Getting to Mayrlife Resort—a place rooted in the philosophy that the digestive system is the key to overall well-being—is not easy. I took an eight-and-a-half-hour direct flight from New York to Vienna, followed by a three-hour car ride west through the mountains and valleys to the property. Despite having seen photos ahead of time, I half expected to arrive at a glorified hospital. And yet the hotel and the surrounding village of Altaussee looked as if they’d been plucked directly from a fairy tale.

I was welcomed by beautiful, neatly aligned wooden buildings; the greenest of trees layered high into the clouds along the mountains; and the star of the show, Lake Altausseer, glimmering in the afternoon light.

On my first night, I was literally served a bowl of broth, a teaspoon, and a “chewing retainer”—a rather jarring but accurate term for a bread substitute, I learned. And I thought: Oh, what on earth have I done?

“Don’t worry, you will have more tomorrow,” the server, clearly seeing my panic, said with a smile. At this point, I had yet to have my preliminary appointments—a meeting with one of the five doctors on-site, blood work, a 3D body scan, a conversation with the nutritionist. It’s only following these screenings that the entire experience shifts—supplements are prescribed, meal plans are adjusted—based on your individual health.

Life on the “Mayr method,” or the “cure,” as it’s called on property, is one of constructed monotonous rhythm: quiet and solitary meals at the exact same time, in the exact same seat; regular appointments or treatments in the medical center; lectures in the evening. In between, your only obligation is to rest, in whatever way your body wants you to. This can consist of a swim in the lake, surrounded by some of Austria’s tallest mountains; a nap in your modest room; or a visit to the spa for a hop between the sauna and the cold shower.

During my stay, I opted for the spa. Every evening, I did three rounds of contrast therapy, followed by a few laps in the saltwater pool (the salt for which is ethically sourced from the nearby Altaussee Salt Mines, which have fueled this region for centuries). The rhythm is meant to slow you down—the brain, the digestive system, the entire body—to provide a full picture of your health.

“Here, you can strip everything out and see what’s really happening inside, but you need to have time and money to do that,” Dr. Dieter Resch, the resort’s CEO and medical director, told me.

He wasn’t kidding: the starting price of a seven-day signature program at Mayrlife is $3,391, plus $550 per night in one of the 64 guest rooms. And that price can rise depending on the supplements or additional treatments the doctors recommend. While the average stay is 7 to 10 days, Dr. Resch shared that a woman from Los Angeles had just left after spending an entire six weeks on property. Another guest—the man who sat directly to my left during every meal and wore a bathrobe no matter the time of day (a routine I found strangely comforting)—was there for three weeks.

Those who come here often suffer from chronic illness like me, or from other inflammation-derived issues such as digestive disorders and high blood pressure. Generally, this isn’t leisure; it’s a discovery for long-term health, or a way to “find the source of unwell being,” as Dr. Resch put it.

Given my health history, the team at Mayrlife—with whom I had the chance to chat extensively prior to arrival, as all guests do—recommended the Anti-Inflammatory Reset. This included treatments like cryotherapy, for which I stood in a –166° F chamber in a bathing suit, mittens, socks, and a ridiculous hat for three minutes to flush out toxins; a headache-specific infusion consisting of various minerals like magnesium; and an amazing salt scrub, where I was wrapped up like a mummy and placed on a waterbed. The last of these supposedly boosts blood circulation and metabolism, and also gave me the chance for a lovely nap.

While the treatments and meticulously prepared food—made only from local natural ingredients—worked their way through my body, my brain followed suit. Throughout my five-day stay, I slowly leaned into the idea of simply being still. I never once heard any music—something that made me extremely uncomfortable on day one, but which by day five I found rather soothing. During meals, the only time all the guests are in one space together, we were encouraged to spend at least 45 minutes focused entirely on the act of eating: no distractions from your cell phone, a book, or even conversation.

By the end, everything seemed heightened: my sleep felt deeper, the songs of the birds grew louder, the brush of air through the trees outside felt stronger. For me, the trip and the tests didn’t end up being about chasing a wellness trend. They became an opportunity to reflect on family—and why I had made the trip in the first place.

On my last day, I decided it was finally time to make my way into the freezing, stunning lake. As I stood on the hotel’s private dock, apprehensive, waiting for peeks of sun to come out to enhance my courage, a woman, likely in her 60s, strolled right past me. She stepped onto the ladder and waded silently in.

We didn’t share any words, but her gentle smile gave me some confidence. And then the sun came blazing in through the clouds. I had a suspicion it was my uncle Greg, letting me know I was on the right track.

More Wellness Resorts in Europe That Are Doing It Right

• Lanserhof Resorts: The three Lanserhof properties—two in Germany and one in Austria—are perhaps the most similar to Mayrlife; this brand is also based on 20th-century Austrian holistic physician Franz Xaver Mayr’s ideas. The actual accommodations steer a bit more luxe at Lanserhof; its Sylt Island location, for instance, has 55 guest suites overlooking the sea.

• Clinique La Prairie: This science-backed program in Montreux, Switzerland, has been empowering visitors since it opened in 1931. It’s best known for its longevity programs; the Life Reset is particularly intriguing, as it targets mental health and well-being. “The setting was exquisite, the food very good, and the facials the best I have ever had,” Mark Lakin, founder of advisory firm Legacy Untold and a T+L Travel Advisor Board member, told me.

• SHA: One of this optimization clinic’s two locations is in Alicante, Spain (the other is in Mexico). Its philosophy is similar to Mayr’s, in that you get personalized diagnostics and prescribed treatments, but the accommodations are far more modern. The Spanish property recently launched a female-focused program, with hormones, fitness, nutrition, and longevity front and center.

• Chenot Palace Switzerland: The flagship of Chenot, in Weggis, Switzerland, is another detox-centered retreat along the shores of a lake. The Henri Chenot plan is rooted in prevention backed by science and technology. The resort recently received some headlines for its program centered around sleep and recovery. While most wellness clinics have high price points, Chenot is among the most expensive: at least $10,000 a week for most guests.