Days for me are filled with write-able moments becoming the seeds for a wonderful story. When one can just sit for in the moment and soak up the sounds, sights, and smells around her, the stories are endless. Choose something and focus intently, you’ll be amazed.
On Holiday for 24 hours, I visited the most beautiful of spas. Last week, deciding my desert-dry skin needed some real revitalization, I booked a treatment at Spa Italiano in Sicily, Italy. Okay, couldn’t quite make it to Europe, so I chose a close knock off.
I don’t do spas. Well, I might need to change my thinking, as this was something not experienced in my 65 years. I guess I never chose the right one before. The first step was entering a store front. Just your usual overpriced lotions and potions. Wonderfully soft mittens and booties to capture all types of emollients, allowing them to work with the heat of your body. This shop was intoxicating, with colors soft, boxes intriguing. Checking in, I needed to embrace the art of relaxation.
The sweetest people work at these places. Where do they come from? Breathing lavender for eight hours a day softens any bitchiness that can boil beneath the surface. These ladies were the kindest of kind, ready to send me off to the land of nod. After taking the necessary information for payment, which could end a blissful state after treatment, they ushered me into Stage 0ne, the locker room. Presenting me with a robe that was out of the movies, they explained the procedures and left. This robe was like a mini-coccoon. Just the perfect size, luxurious and warm. Heavenly.
When ready, the first group of spa angels sent me heavenward in an elevator, explaining the spa was on three levels. Level one, although elegant, was functional. I wasn’t prepared for level two. The elevator door swooshed open to a retreat of the Italian kind. The lighting was just this side of dark. You could certainly see where you were going, but, the glare of the high desert sun was blocked with the absence of windows. A ceiling to floor waterfall reminded me of Hawaiian nature. Soft music calmed my nerves. This was the inner belly of Spa Italiano, and I had just purchased a ticket to nirvana.
Another spa angel gave me a bottle of water and escorted me to an inner sanctum of relaxation. Large, puffy, white leather chairs held my formally tense muscles, as I started to melt like a warm cube of butter. The world needs to go to a spa. Everyone. All at once. The peace in this room was overwhelming. Closing my eyes, I sipped cool water and listened to the wall of water tinkling its little tune. A true blessing, my world stopped and breathed in the delicate scents in the air.
After sitting at few minutes, the masseuse came through the door and gently called my name. Mrs. Hurt. How long it had been since someone had been thoughtful enough to call me by the precious name of Mrs. Hurt. VST was smiling in heaven, seeing that I was doing something really nice for myself. I felt it.
I followed her like a sheep into the treatment room. With respect for privacy throughout the treatment, she began. I purchased a mineral wrap. That sounds boring. This was anything but. Let me explain. You get scrubbed as one would lovingly prepare a potato for the oven. The application of a warm, scratchy scrub lifts off a layer of dead skin, leaving your skin feeling the softest. Of course, the stuff they use is like a buttery concoction of scents that go into your brain and flip the OFF switch. As I lay on a heated treatment bed that quietly went up and down, she worked on legs, arms and back. The music was attached to the bed, causing it to vibrate softly with the base notes. An immersion of the senses. I went to a place in which I forgot she was there, while nearly falling asleep.
After the application of a second heavenly moisturizer, the next part came. I was wrapped up in a thin plastic sheet conveniently hidden under the sheeting on the bed. I was left to ABSORB for a time. Just absorb the emollients and music, while laying on the warm bed wrapped in warmer towels. Peace. It was tranquil bliss.
When she returned, she went to a computer screen outside the shower and with a few taps of the buttons, she turned on the next part of this adventure. Left in privacy, I entered the shower of all showers, in which I could have remained forever. This shower was comprised for four small squares two on either side of the shower. With the temperature set at 102, these squares randomly showered. I swear it was timed to the music piped into the watery cubicle. The sequence in which these squares emitted water made the experience even better. With the perfect temperature and pressure, this shower rinsed away the first two applications and left me waiting for the third.
After drying, she returned for a head massage, and then the final application of dreamy moisturizer I could feel my body absorb. It was if my hungry skin was feasting on nourishment. Hard to explain. And with that, I was left to rest.
Fifty minutes of sheer heaven. At the end, I was taken through the reverse routine, and allowed to leave. I really wanted to sneak back up the elevator and hide until they closed, just absorbing the peace and quiet.
Not everyone has a Spa Italiano. Especially not a three-story one. Not everyone can go out in a Covid riddled world right now. But, most of us do have a regular shower that can create steam. However it works for you, plan a little spa date. Dim the lights. Start a candle. Warm your towels and take a moment for private relaxation. It seems I lost years of bad in a 50 minute trip to nirvana.
A holiday is a delightful thing to take. It doesn’t need to be days or weeks. It can be less than an hour. Everyone needs one, especially now. Good luck and bon voyage!