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1 billionaire at a time.

Inside the Swiss clinics where the super rich go for rehab.

By Sophie Elmerst.

If the sky is clear, it is possible to lean out of the windows of Parasus' recovery, a luxury rehabilitation clinic in Zurich and gaze along the lake to the Alps in the distance.

It is the kind of view of blue water and white peaks that promises immediate rejuvenation, a purity close to holiness.

The clinic, meanwhile, offers more elaborate treatments at a cost of between 95 to 120,000 Swiss francs, equivalent to 85 to 107,000 pounds a week for the typical 6 to 8 week stay.

I was not a typical arrival at Parasus, named after the 16th century Swiss physician who believed, contrary to popular opinion at the time, that those suffering from mental illness were not possessed by evil spirits, but deserved humane treatment.

My Rucksack was marked by old coffee stains, and my coat had a hole in the back from which feathers regularly drifted.

The staff here are used to people who do not carry their own luggage, and for whom a million in any currency is a forgettable sum.

Clients are typically members of Middle Eastern royal families, self-made billionaires, famous actors or sports stars, and the troubled children of all these types, who have inherited their wealth and its attendant burdens.

More striking than the material luxury of the Parasus' office, with its high ceilings and rows of white orchids, was the quantity of attention bestowed as soon as I walked through its doors.

I was not here for treatment, but would be staying in one of their apartments while I interviewed the staff.

Even so, well-groomed nurses, doctors, administrators and nutritionists emerged from every room, smiling with the kind of knowing purpose often glimpsed on the faces of clergy and psychotherapists, or anyone who believes they have access to a pain alleviating truth.

Looming behind them was Jan Gerber, the chief executive, tall and fair as Pampus Grass, with a silk scarf knotted at his neck, and possessing the kind of controlled warmth of someone who has built a successful business treating the confidential anguish of the super-rich.

And following him in a flourish of manners was Pavel Movelick, the managing partner. A man who made millions in hedge funds in his 20s succumbed to a multi-year cocaine and alcohol addiction, checked into multiple rehabs and then, after three months of deep psychological work at Parasus, discovered that his purpose in life was to help people like him.

Movelick, aged 39, is the kind of person who narrates his life as he lives it, a sure sign of someone who has undergone a great deal of therapy.

Knowing I'd come from London, he told me he'd lived in various parts of the city, Covent Garden, base water, St. Catherine's dock, he liked to move around, restless by nature.

Today I believe there is no home, he said, home is a feeling.

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