But how much water do you actually need to drink in a hot climate?

Like most wellness-related questions, there is not one universal answer. “Hydration needs vary from person to person,” explains Khonsari. While factors such as body size, activity level, and climate vary, “a general guideline is around 2.5 liters of fluid per day for women and 3.5 liters for men,” she advises.

Staying adequately hydrated in the heat “is less about rigid rules and more about understanding your individual physiology,” says Mohammed. The trick is always to drink before you feel thirsty, “especially in dry climates where you might not feel as parched as you actually are.” But for those who thrive off hitting an exact target, the clinician shares a simple formula: “For every kilogram of body weight, you should be drinking 35 milileters.”

Crucially, though, it’s not just about the volume of liquid you consume. “Electrolytes and minerals play a key role in helping your cells actually absorb water, which is where the real hydration happens,” says Lamees Hamdan, MD, an integrative medical doctor and longevity expert. With high levels of sodium and potassium lost through sweating, it’s important to replenish them. “Oral rehydration solutions (ORS) or electrolyte drinks can be helpful to do this as they can easily be added to a bottle when out and about,” says Khonsari. And for those jetting off to tropical destinations, coconut water is a sound choice thanks to its naturally high level of electrolytes.

In general, adding water-rich fruit and vegetables to your diet can contribute to “20 to 30% of your daily hydration,” says Dr Mohammed. By opting for a salad at lunch with celery (95% water), lettuce (94% water), cucumber (96% water), and tomatoes (95% water), you can increase your body’s hydration level without thinking too hard about it. Plus, consuming mineral-rich foods such as “leafy greens, nuts, and seeds can help to replenish magnesium and potassium,” she adds.

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Tips for increasing hydration levels

Whether you’re darting from sight to sight on a city break or soaking in the sounds of the waves as you sink into your summer read, staying hydrated is an important aspect of overall enjoyment. Carrying a water bottle that can be filled up throughout the day is a good start, “I often tell travelers to anchor water intake to specific activities,” says Mohammed. “Drink a full glass when you enter each museum, when you sit down for a meal, before you leave your hotel, after you cross a certain street,” she advises.

Like other forms of Ebola, Bundibugyo virus disease can cause fever, fatigue, vomiting, diarrhea, and, in severe cases, internal and external bleeding. It spreads through direct contact with bodily fluids from infected people or contaminated materials, rather than through the air like Covid-19 or flu.

According to the World Health Organization, previous Bundibugyo outbreaks have generally recorded lower fatality rates than the better-known Zaire strain, although the disease is still considered highly dangerous and capable of spreading rapidly in areas with limited healthcare infrastructure.

How does Bundibugyo differ from other Ebola strains?

The key difference is that there are currently no approved vaccines or targeted treatments specifically available for the Bundibugyo strain. Most recent Ebola responses, including vaccines deployed during outbreaks in West Africa and the Democratic Republic of the Congo, were developed for the Zaire strain of Ebola virus, which has historically caused the deadliest outbreaks.

Health authorities say those treatments have not been formally approved for Bundibugyo virus disease. The strain is considered somewhat less lethal than Zaire Ebola on average, with historical fatality rates estimated at roughly 25% to 50%, compared with up to 90% in some past Zaire outbreaks. But experts are warning that mortality rates vary widely depending on how quickly cases are detected, how effectively contacts are traced, and the quality of local healthcare responses.

How does Bundibugyo Ebola spread?

Bundibugyo Ebola spreads in the same way as other forms of Ebola—through direct contact with the bodily fluids of an infected person or contaminated materials. Crucially, it’s not considered an airborne virus in the way Covid-19, flu, or measles are. People generally become infectious only once symptoms begin, which means casual contact, such as briefly passing someone in an airport or sitting near someone without symptoms, is considered much lower risk than direct physical contact with a sick person.

The virus can also spread through contact with infected animals, particularly bats and primates, which is why health authorities advise travelers not to handle bushmeat or wildlife in outbreak areas. Hospitals and funerals have historically been among the highest-risk environments during Ebola outbreaks, particularly where protective equipment, sanitation, or infection control procedures are limited. Family members caring for sick relatives are also at a higher risk.

Symptoms can appear anywhere from two to 21 days after exposure and typically begin with fever, fatigue, muscle pain, and headaches before progressing to vomiting, diarrhea, and, in severe cases, bleeding, and organ failure.

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Is it safe to travel to East Africa right now?

East Africa has not been placed under a blanket “do not travel” warning because of Ebola, meaning most tourist itineraries should not be affected. The current outbreak is centered in DRC and Uganda. Kenya, Rwanda, and Tanzania increasing preparedness and surveillance because of regional movement and shared travel links. The WHO has advised countries against closing borders or placing travel and trade restrictions, warning that such measures could push people toward unmonitored crossings and undermine efforts to contain the spread.

I was 30 feet underwater, kneeling on the sandy sea floor of Nari Nari, when my scuba instructor Brian told me to flood my mask—a skill every budding diver needs to complete before getting certified. So I cracked the seal. Immediately, salt water rushed across my face and into my nose. My breathing sped up. I tried to clear the mask by forcing air out of my nostrils. I failed. I tried again. My vision got blurry. My chest tightened. I pointed toward the ascent line, the rope that guides divers up and down slowly to prevent compression sickness. I started swimming for it, hoping to ascend and clammer back onboard our boat.

But Brian caught up with me quickly. He grabbed my vest and held his hand in front of me, moving it slowly up and down until I matched his breathing. After a few cycles, my heart rate settled enough for me to clear my mask and continue the dive. If it was any other activity, I would’ve bailed. However deep underwater, you don’t have that option. The only way through is to get your breathing under control. From the first lesson, one rule is drilled in: Never hold your breath.

“How you breathe dictates how the dive goes,” Stephen J. Aynsley, a scuba meditation specialty course director with Professional Association of Diving Instructors (PADI) told me in an interview. “You have to breathe continuously to remain conscious and safe, but you also have to breathe correctly to maintain good buoyancy. It’s one of the few body systems that you can consciously and subconsciously control.”

Covered by coral and and aquatic life, the David Tucker shipwreck rests underwater in Nassau.

Kyle Wicks

Newbie divers often take shallow, fast breaths, which are more likely to make you feel anxious as you’re not getting enough oxygen, Aynsley explains. But the goal is slow, deep breaths: long inhales with even longer exhales, the same pattern used in many on-land meditation practices. I’ve personally dabbled in breathwork to manage my anxiety for years, using apps like Open or Headspace to ease tension or fall asleep, but often get flustered with complex breathing patterns. It wasn’t until I was in the ocean that I controlled my breathing well enough to stay calm when I would otherwise panic.

When I went to Nassau, Bahamas, to get my scuba certificate through PADI at Sandals Royal Bahamian, I was initially uneasy. I’d been snorkeling before—at a secluded, rocky cove near Little Bay, Anguilla, and at the Four Seasons Resort Lanai shoreline in Hawaii, where I was mesmerized by the shimmering pastel colors of the Hawaiian surge wrasse that reminded me of my favorite childhood book, The Rainbow Fish. I got used to hovering near the surface of 15-feet-deep water, watching parrotfish flicker below me and rays glide past, while keeping a comfortable distance from whatever else was below. Diving felt like an exciting next step, but one I wasn’t entirely sure I was ready for.

I know that I’m not alone when I click to book a hotel, it’s after careful consideration of the fitness facilities. But lately, hotels have taken a huge leap forward from providing a tiny basement gym to, on my last hotel stay at The Berkeley in London, a curated trolley of bespoke weights, straps, and medicine balls, ready for a workout session in the comfort and privacy of my room.

Wellness tourism has been on the rise for years. In fact, the 2025 Global Wellness Economy Monitor reported a new market peak of $6.8 trillion. And while retreats are a significant driver, more and more of us want health and wellbeing integrated into our regular travel experience. “Wellbeing is no longer resigned to the spa, but has become an ecosystem with touch points that span across the entire aspect of a stay, and guests expect this to extend to their bedrooms too,” Aimee Hodgkin, hotel curation and partnerships director at Mr & Mrs Smith, says.

I’ve been covering wellness for nearly 20 years, as well as traveling the world for my job, and I’ve slowly been seeing hotels up their game from frankly poor offerings—even at the smartest addresses—to something that makes you feel genuinely excited about traveling. In the last few months, I’ve opened mini bars to find CBD drops and sleep patches, or pulled out an LED red light mask from my bedside drawer, or worked out with a weights trolley or a Peloton bike, perhaps followed by an IV recovery drip on the sofa, or eased my muscles in a steam pod.

The reason? Because it is increasingly important to guests, says Hattie David-Wilkinson, global head of wellness and longevity at Maybourne, which has recently invested heavily in in-room options. “Gone are the days when a vacation or trip automatically equals a pause from health routines. We view travel as an opportunity to support performance and recovery, not disrupt it. We want to ensure guests have the tools to return home feeling better than when they arrived.”

Many new hotels know that wellness is an important selling point and that in-room offerings set the best apart. “We recognized early on that wellness is no longer confined to a spa visit, gym session, or indeed a physical space. This led to us bringing different elements into the design of the room,” says Oliver Milne-Watson, general manager at The Newman in London.

What’s interesting is the variety of wellness options available in-room at hotels embracing the trend. Because, as Milne-Watson notes, “wellness is not prescriptive, it is personal.” And as these are not health retreats, there is no shame in balancing wellness with a well-earned glass of something from the traditional mini bar, later. “We give our guests the freedom to shape their own experience,” he says. And there’s no better place to do that than in the privacy of your own room.

The best hotels offering in-room wellness

The Berkeley, London

When Maybourne posted a picture of its newly-launched Surenne trolley, it went viral, such was the lust for bespoke weights gear at the foot of your bed. When you see it in person, it’s even more impressive: a chicly designed bespoke trolley with gorgeously muted equipment that looks at home amongst the wood-panneled suites. Add in the newly launched wellness menu by Rosemary Ferguson, available for in-room dining, which she created for the group due in part to her own frustration as a frequent traveler at not always being able to access healthy food, and a selection of beauty products in the fridge, and you’ll leave The Berkeley feeling better than when you checked in.

According to a recent tourism initiative, Sweden is “the first country in the world prescribed by doctors.” In the cheeky marketing campaign, Sweden expands on how its saunas, nature, and 100 days of summer sunlight (rebranded as “24/7 light therapy”) support mental wellbeing. The initiative’s website even features MDs endorsing the program, stating that it provides “evidence-based ways” to support mental health. There is even a downloadable “prescription” form for doctors to “suggest personalized Swedish experiences” based on patients’ needs.

It’s no surprise that Sweden is using this tactic to increase tourism: Global wellness tourism has skyrocketed in recent years, while mental health treatment is one of the fastest-growing industries worldwide. Promoting a combination of the two is a logical next step. But does traveling for your mental health actually work—or is it simply another trend cashing in on the burnout epidemic?

“Travel is no longer just about getting away,” says Sheri Colosimo, wellness educator and co-founder of Más Bliss Retreats. “It’s an opportunity to consider how you want to feel, what you truly need physically, mentally, and emotionally, and what type of experience can support that.” This concept differs from traditional wellness tourism. Studies characterize the distinction as “hedonic” versus “eudaimonic” travel, the former being centered on immediate enjoyment, the latter on personal growth (traditional wellness offerings like massages fall into the hedonic category). While travel has indeed been proven to improve happiness, these effects are often short-lived, fading soon after returning to work or within weeks of coming home.

An outdoor ceremony space at Paraiso de la Bonita resort in Mexico’s Riviera Maya, where the writer took part in a temazcal.

Rafael Luhrs/Paraiso de la Bonita

So can the industry actually provide experiences that improve mental health? While I haven’t yet gotten my health insurance to fund a trip to Sweden, I have recently been to Mexico several times, each for a program marketed as improving mental well-being. The first was a yoga retreat with Beyond Yoga, set in the lush hills of Puerto Vallarta; the second, a sleep therapy program at the Ritz-Carlton’s sweeping Zadún Los Cabos; and the third, a weekend at the romantic Paraiso de la Bonita to experience offerings like their temazcal, a traditional sweat lodge ceremony for spiritual purification. I usually get the most out of therapy-like experiences, and the least out of athletic and meditative ones. It came as a surprise, then, that the yoga retreat had the greatest impact on my long-term mental health. I turned to an expert for some insight as to why.

“Travel is a great opportunity for cognitive enhancement,” says Dr. Karen Miller, PhD, a leading expert in brain wellness. “And that’s probably the key to thinking about how to achieve long-term effects. It requires us to engage with our frontal lobes much more than usual.” She explains that the novelty inherent to travel—like navigating new environments, foods, and transportation—is one of the most helpful factors. “Something new makes much more of an impact on how our brain is wired,” she says. Miller also points to the “dual tasking” or cognitive activity while in motion (like reading a map while walking) common with travel as an extremely effective way to improve mind function. This enhanced cognition is what leads to the clarity, new habits, and emotional processing that have lasting effects on our mental health.

We’d been reluctant to return for years—the last time we were there, in 2021, we were in town to clean out our old house after my husband’s death. I hadn’t considered going back until I noticed a new Hampton Bays hotel while working on the last Readers’ Choice Awards. It was nice to see the town named; compared to neighboring places like East Hampton and Amagansett, our little hamlet was decidedly un-glitzy. I’d always clock that it’d be left off maps of the Hamptons that graced the totes bags and sweatshirts of trendy brands. It made me wonder what it would be like to experience our former home as visitors.

Dante and I considered our curiosity. Picking up the thread with new memories could offset any discomfort. It would be healing. We hadn’t been to the beach in ages. Running along the shore had always been an act that grounded us and proved therapeutic, and we also wanted to see what was new in the area.

The author and her son, Dante

Alexandra Sanidad

I’d been curious about Shou Sugi Ban House since it opened in 2018. It has a quiet, decidedly not-kid-friendly atmosphere that seemed suitable for exploring our new time together as adults. Though I had passed this location no doubt one million times en route to the nearby Southampton Jitney stop, it’s so discrete that I’d never noticed it. The barn-inspired buildings have glass walls that look out onto graveled paths, with tall grasses surrounded by evergreen—a microcosm of what makes this area special. We slept in our own beautifully appointed cottages, an indulgence we wouldn’t have allowed ourselves in the past. The added privacy allowed us both to enjoy the deep tubs in our bathrooms—his was modern and egg-shaped while mine was made from Japanese hinoki wood—and nap at our leisure or read without interruption.

This set-up was ideal as we had ample solitude to reset, but also many chances to simply be present together. We experienced the water circuit, replete with infrared sauna and three outdoor pools that I couldn’t have done with him when he was younger—not that it would’ve even caught his interest then. We also enjoyed a sound bath and guided meditations as part of a class of four. Lying in the dark, listening to rain sticks and resonating gongs, I reflected on my former life as a young wife and mom of a little boy, and felt deep gratitude at being able to experience the East End again with my grown son.

Six Senses retreats have a tendency to show up in the world’s most remote destinations—the mountains of Bhutan, the deserts of Saudi Arabia, or the beaches of the Seychelles, for instance—where majestic natural landscapes are as intrinsic to the healing experience as a menu of sound baths, cryotherapy, and acupuncture. Trading the tropics for the heart of London may seem like an unlikely backdrop for the brand’s 27th opening, but there’s also something to be said for arriving at the Six Senses London without a multi-leg, multi-day journey that requires, say, a wellness retreat to recover from.

It’s easy to forget you’re in one of the world’s busiest cities when you enter a lush lobby brimming with more than 1,000 plants, and the 109 rooms, with bleached-wood floors, sage and blue accents, cloudlike beds, and fixtures that are a nod to the building’s Art Deco heritage, manage to deftly block out the tourist hordes of Notting Hill not far away, making for a surprisingly soft landing for an urban retreat. In the historic Whitely Building, the city’s first department store, tailoring now comes in the form of personalized itineraries incorporating massages, facials, ice baths, sleep tracking, quartz crystal beds, and much more, depending on what your biometrics reveal about you. But Londoners don’t have to book a staycation to reap the benefits: The opening also marks the debut of Six Senses Place, the brand’s first members club, drawing residents who may want to incorporate visits to the hammam, red-light therapy chamber, cutting-edge gym, Place restaurant, Alchemy Bar, or floatation pods into their own after-work or weekend regimens.

And it’s easy to extend that idea of wellness after leaving the hotel for the day. Located in one of London’s most iconic corners, the regal Hyde Park is just a stroll away, making it the perfect place to unwind during a full day of strolls, picnics and more (don’t miss a stop into the phenomenal Serpentine Gallery). And should you feel like dipping into classic London, Notting Hill, with its quaint shops, pubs, markets and more, shoulders up to the park. Combining both the park and Notting Hill is a quintessentially perfect London day. Be sure to wear sensible but fashionable footwear to keep you comfy for a day of pounding the pavement and the park. In London, a light but sturdy jacket is always a must. And a tip: always pack a sleek pair of sunnies or a foulard in your handbag. The weather in London is famously moody, and access to either will help elevate your outfit to instant urban chic.

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I came to SHA because my matrescence had been the culmination of three long years of IVF—so much more than the usual nine months of hormonal, emotional, and physical changes of a pregnancy. Not only had I been subjected to thousands of needles and gallons of medications, but this roller coaster unfolded during my 40s, leaving my mind and body constantly at odds with each other. Disrupted sleep? Patchy skin? Absconding period? Unexplained anxiety? All elements of a not-so-fun game I call “Postpartum or Perimenopause?”

How do you address something you don’t fully understand? The numbers are a good place to start. “I think you’re really tired,” said Dr. Gabriela Dueñas during my functional medicine assessment. Ordinarily that’s a laughable observation to make to the mother of a newborn, but Dr. Dueñas came armed with data. Numbers and stats projected onto the wall supported her thesis: My progesterone was low, my cortisol was high, my physical stress was through the roof, but my mental stress was, mercifully, quite balanced—likely due to my saint of a husband managing as many external factors as he could. “You have to start learning how to release and relax and reconnect,” she continued. Doctor’s orders.

The regimen she prescribed included facials and massages and time at a subterranean hydrotherapy circuit overlooking the mangroves, but also an EKG, physiotherapy, and a gynecological exam—all firsts for me at a wellness retreat. Running up and down the six-story clinic between sessions was like being back in school again, only I’d swapped calculus and French for ginger therapeutic compresses, intermittent hypoxia, IV ozone therapy, and Pranayama. It was a more rigorous course load than I’d expected from a relaxing spa getaway, but I was here to do the work, after all.

But not everyone else is traveling with a chronic condition. Not everyone needs to make adjustments. Accepting that can be difficult, and sometimes I’ve found myself feeling resentful at how carefree others can be. My life cannot be lived spontaneously or entirely with abandon. That’s a hard pill to swallow. But it’s also just something to accept. It’s okay to say no, to do your own thing, to spend an afternoon resting while everyone else heads out for another hike.

Preparation is the second lesson.

I take a medication that needs to be refrigerated. Traveling with it is a slightly arduous process that requires paperwork, cooler bags, and conversations with airlines in advance to ensure they can store it in their fridges during flights. I’m lucky, I only take the medication every two weeks, and so often I simply plan travel dates around my injection schedule. When that isn’t possible, packing becomes an exercise in anticipating every outcome.

More than once, I’ve booked a short trip with only hand luggage, convincing myself that for three days I’ll be fine. But in doing so, I sacrifice packing things that ease my symptoms because they’re bulky or inconvenient. I always regret it. Comfort, I’ve learned, is worth the extra suitcase.

If you have a condition that flares unpredictably, it can be tempting—particularly if it hasn’t happened for a while—to be lulled into a false sense of security. Traveling isn’t the time for that. Pack every medication you might need. Carry extra prescriptions in case of delays. Split essential medication between cabin and hold luggage. Adjust medication timing for new time zones. It’s tedious, administrative work, but it will often be the difference between a great trip and a terrible one.

And finally: don’t abandon every routine that helps you manage your health.

Part of the joy of travel is leaning into hedonism, abandoning everyday life. But for those of us with chronic conditions, letting go of everything we know about our bodies rarely ends well. If there are stretches you do every day at home that help, do them on holiday too. If you know you need a certain amount of sleep to manage pain, prioritize it. If certain foods trigger your condition, remain mindful of their impact.

Travel may not look exactly the way it once did for me. But it is still expansive, joyful, and full of possibility, just with a little more planning, a little more patience, and a deeper understanding of the body that carries me through it.

This article was originally published on Condé Nast Traveller UK.