Four Ways To Feel the Glow With Heat Therapy
From mud baths to herbal massages, Fiji’s heat rituals turned one winter escape into a soul-deep reset.
From mud baths to herbal massages, Fiji’s heat rituals turned one winter escape into a soul-deep reset.
As someone who grew up in the endless sun of Southern California, I’ve never quite adjusted to the concept of winter. My threshold for “cold” is embarrassingly low – anything below 20°C sends me into survival mode. And living in Sydney now, every time the calendar tips toward June, my instinct kicks in: seek warmth. Any warmth. Immediately.
In years past, my winter ritual involved locking myself in a Bikram yoga studio in Darlinghurst, sweating through 90 minutes of stillness, fire, and surrender.
But this year, the craving ran deeper. I wasn’t just in search of heat; I needed something restorative. Something sun-drenched, soul-soothing, and slightly off-grid. I didn’t just want to survive winter; I wanted to reset.
So, I did what any sun-seeking woman with a wild heart and a family of six might do: I packed our bags and booked a trip to Fiji. What started as a seasonal escape turned into a deep, healing experience centred around one of the most ancient, powerful forces in the world: heat.

There’s something undeniably grounding about smearing warm volcanic mud across your skin in the heart of Fiji. And no, you’re not wading into a bubbling mud pit like some prehistoric spa-goer. Instead, you’re handed the rich, mineral-loaded mud in buckets – thick, cool to the touch, and dark as wet clay—and encouraged to paint it onto your body. It’s part ritual, part play.
My youngest dove in without hesitation, streaking mud across his cheeks like a mini warrior, giggling as the clay dried into a cracking shell. My older kids, on the other hand, stood back at first, clearly hesitant to get dirty.
But the more they watched everyone embracing the mess, the more they softened. One by one, they joined in, eventually laughing and covering themselves head to toe. Later, they admitted they were glad they did it – that it was way more fun (and relaxing) than they’d expected.
Once the mud dries and begins to flake off under the sun, the real magic begins. You move through a series of naturally heated thermal pools, each one warmer than the last. It’s not just about rinsing off – it’s about surrender. The heat seeps into your muscles, quieting your mind, easing your body into stillness. You feel the tension lift, the weight of the everyday loosen.
One of the simplest yet most powerful rituals I practised in Fiji was also the most natural—walking barefoot under the sun. No shoes, no schedule. Just me, warm sand, and the soft rhythm of movement.
Each morning or late afternoon, I’d wander along the beach, letting the tropical sun heat my skin and the golden sand press into the soles of my feet. This wasn’t just a walk—it was heat therapy in motion. The sensation of sun-warmed earth beneath me felt primal and deeply grounding. With every step, I could feel my body recalibrating, my nervous system softening, my mind unclenching.
Walking barefoot in a warm climate activates something ancient in us. It combines the benefits of heat, natural reflexology and earthing – a practice that connects your body directly to the electromagnetic frequency of the planet. In wellness circles, it’s believed to reduce inflammation, balance cortisol levels, and even improve sleep.
But I wasn’t thinking about the science at the time. I was just feeling. I was present. I was soaking in the warmth, both from above and below. And in those moments—between steps, between breaths—I felt a kind of wholeness I didn’t know I’d lost.

If you’ve never experienced a hot herbal poultice massage, allow me to set the scene: bundles of freshly picked island herbs—wrapped in cloth, steeped in coconut oil, and steamed until they’re nearly too hot to touch. Then, slowly, rhythmically, they’re pressed into your skin.
It’s not just a massage. It’s a ceremony. The heat from the compresses reaches deep into the muscle tissue, melting away months of stress, while the scent of local botanicals lingers in the air—think ginger, lemongrass, wild mint. I could feel my nervous system recalibrating with each press.
This was the treatment I didn’t know I needed—the one that reminded me what deep exhale feels like. It was luxurious, yes, but also humbling. Rooted in Fijian tradition, the experience felt like being held by the island itself.

Every morning, while the rest of my family eased into the day, I claimed a quiet corner of the resort gym deck overlooking the ocean. No complex flows, no pressure to “perform”—just me, my mat, and the rising sun.
The warmth on my skin as I moved slowly—stretching, breathing, simply existing—was its own kind of therapy. On some days, I followed a downloaded 20-minute flow; on others, I let my body decide what it needed. But every session had the same goal: to build internal heat. To ignite my energy from the inside out.
That, I realised, is the essence of heat wellness. It’s not always about stepping into something hot. Sometimes, it’s about letting the warmth within you rise up and take over.
There’s a reason cultures across the globe have long incorporated heat into their wellness rituals—from Turkish hammams to Finnish saunas to Japanese onsens. Heat cleanses, softens, recalibrates. It strips away layers—literal and emotional—and brings you back to your most essential self.
Physiologically, it improves circulation, reduces inflammation and eases muscle pain. But emotionally, heat provides something even deeper: a sense of surrender. A return to presence. A softness in a world that often feels far too sharp.
For me, Fiji wasn’t just about escaping winter – it was about remembering that heat is medicine. It’s a ritual. It’s connection. And it’s something we can carry with us, even when we return home.
For Central Element, the start of work at Pearl represents another step in the company’s growing eastern suburbs pipeline.
All three vehicles will form part of a broader charitable initiative benefiting Big Brothers Big Sisters of America, the American Red Cross and Starlight Children’s Foundation
Apple’s first foldable, the $1,999 iPhone Duo, combines an iPhone and iPad Mini experience—but its size, weight and price come with compromises.
As I watched a Netflix show on Apple’s first foldable, the iPhone Duo, I had two surprising thoughts.
The first: Maybe I don’t need my iPad Mini anymore.
The second: Uh oh, am I about to spend $1,999 on a phone?
I didn’t think folding phones were for me. I’ve been testing Android versions from Samsung and Google since 2019, and those early editions came with too much screen and too many compromises.
Fast forward seven years, and the technology has come a long way. Apple—in its very Apple way—has also come up with some hardware and software trickery to make up for some shortcomings of the basic design. My desire for a folding phone before today was zero. After today, it’s a lot more than zero.
I’m not ready to recommend the Duo, which ships on Oct. 23, just yet. Not until I am able to test it more fully, so be on the lookout for that review in a few weeks. But from what I experienced at Apple Park on Wednesday, I could actually picture myself using this new half-phone, half-tablet hybrid.
For months, I’ve been using Samsung’s Galaxy Z Fold 8, a similarly squat, passport-shaped foldable that opens up to a larger screen. It’s impressively thin and can easily fit into the infuriatingly tiny pockets in women’s pants and dresses. Samsung did a lot of work to minimize the crease—the dip between the two halves of the big interior display—but it’s still clearly there.
When I held the iPhone Duo open, the crease was barely visible. As I slid my finger across the display, I could feel it, but it’s more subtle than Samsung’s. Most of the time, the screen looked as flat and smooth as the one on an iPad.
Apple employed both software and hardware techniques to camouflage the crease. The matte surface of the interior 7.6-inch screen minimizes reflections to hide it. (Samsung’s Fold 8 screen is shiny.)
And as you begin to open or close the iPhone Duo, the interface shifts the controls and content away from the center crease. If, say, you’re watching a video on the outer screen, you can open the Duo to switch to the bigger display within. A black fade marks the transition. You don’t see the video full screen until the phone is completely flat.
My second observation was that, when the Duo is closed, in phone mode, it was harder to use one-handed than I expected.
In the keynote trailer and press release, Apple touted how thin the Duo is. It’s marketed as the thinnest iPhone ever—when open.
But it’s actually thicker and heavier than most of its Android competitors. The Duo weighs 254 grams, and is 11.3 millimeters thick when closed. The Samsung Galaxy Fold 8 is just 201 grams, with a thickness of 9.7 millimeters. Google’s Pixel 11 Pro Fold is 239 grams and 10.1 millimeters.
Because the Duo is also wider than a standard iPhone, I found it quite a challenge to type.
I admit, I do have smaller-than-average hands. So I consulted my colleague Rolfe Winkler, who has a larger grip. He agreed the Duo feels big.
Apple rearranged the interface on the outer screen so it looks different than traditional iPhones. The dock and control center are off to the right to be more reachable. Committing to the Duo as your main device will require adjustments in your handling. You will have to learn a new way to use and type.
My most surprising takeaway? I feel a pull toward this device.
I always thought that combining an iPhone and an iPad would mean bigger compromises. The battery life is about the same as the 18 Pro (up to 24 hours of “regular use” on a single charge), though I’ll need to verify that in my real-world testing. And it’s also as durable, with the same IP68 dust- and water-resistance rating as the rest of the iPhone lineup.
There are trade-offs, for sure. Trying out the camera, I immediately missed the 8X zoom in my Pro model. The Duo has just 2X zoom, which wouldn’t cut it for the dozens of pictures I take of my kid every day.
But the dual screens unlock new photo functionality. You can see what your shot looks like from the outside screen. As someone who has tried tirelessly to self-direct a family photo—or a spouse—I am very eager to try this out more.
Foldables, I initially thought, were for classic mobile-warrior jet-setter types, who never sit at a desk and are always on calls. For that crowd, the Duo can run two apps side-by-side.
Me, I’m more of a bed binge-watcher and ebook reader. That’s what my beloved iPad Mini is for.
Watching videos on the Duo is a nice experience—nice enough that you forget the screen is 0.7 inches smaller than the iPad Mini’s. The main screen is also a 4:3 aspect ratio. Very similar, by the way, to the IMAX edition of the Odyssey.
Because I wasn’t able to snag a ticket to one of the sold-out screenings, I will be watching Christopher Nolan’s version of Homer’s epic on the Duo, just as the director intended. (Just kidding! Sort of.)
The Duo costs $800 more than an iPhone 18 Pro, and I’m not sure I want to spend that premium on a first-generation Apple device. But I’m not ruling out the idea that a Duo might one day be in my future. Stay tuned for my full review.
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For Central Element, the start of work at Pearl represents another step in the company’s growing eastern suburbs pipeline.