One of the joys of travelling, after exposing myself to new ideas and challenging my perception of how one ‘should’ live,
is returning home.
And so it was that I found myself happily (and sadly at the same time)
back home after riding a Stunning Arab cross
(horse🐴that is, not anything other😉)
for 5 days in beautiful Tasmania;
not camping but definitely ‘making like the locals’ in terms of
food and wine (plenty of it) 😍
Our little band of riders were closely observed by many of those around us who thought we must be mad, maybe not dogs, (as in Englishmen and that midday sun☀️) but clearly crazy with an enviable giddy kind of joy.
Because that ride was a wonderful exhilarating experience.
However it is not the topic for day.
Rather I want to share a differentexperience.
One I shared with my beautiful daughter.
We were each given a Christmas gift of self-indulgence
and when she suggested we went the day after 5 day’s horse riding, why wouldn’t I?
And so we did.
We hopped into my little car,
and drove to the appointed place without getting lost.
This could not be described as an unprepossessing building.
On the contrary it is anything but – bright, new, shiny and filled with exotic shops, people and a very large, very bold sign lest we had any doubts:
The Glen Shopping Centre.
I had read what was on offer,
and felt an involuntary tremor go through my body
as I recalled a travel experience 😳that I vowed
not to repeat, anywhere, anytime, ever again 😔
I read how :
“You will LOVE it.
You lie on hot stones, you get wrapped in a clay/mud mask and rest and then you are massaged with oils and your hair is washed and you feel SOOO good and rested. “
And yet here I was again.
Breathing deeply, focusing on gratitude
– it was after all a gift
And A Gift it was.
This time it was just OUR gift.
We were still in a small room,
but there were no wooden benches
and no other women, naked or clothed.
Just the two of us as we undressed,
placed our clothes in beautiful baskets,
put my glasses and jewellery into a tiny elegant purse
and then lay down on warm towels,
spread lavishly on a soft bed
(one bed each) ;😉
not a spot of linoleum anywhere in sight.
The only noise was the sound of a reed bass and wind chimes, simulating, I suppose a gentle breeze
(except of course a breeze is never as even as the music was –
I did muse on that – but I digress)
I lay happily on my tummy as my back and legs and arms were massaged, oiled and treated with hot stones
(or at least hot something as the lights were dimmed and my head hung through a hole in the bed) 🙃
When I was asked to turn over,
it was with a great sigh of relief that I knew I need not keep my eyes open;
ever alert to avoid being hit by swinging anythings – large or small 😂
The clay was applied with much TLC, the breezy music continued and I wallowed in nothingness till it was all gently removed. (the clay that is 😉)
Dry, snug, oiled, pampered and feeling SOO good,
we finally dragged ourselves away,
to enjoy a drink to Savour the memory rather than Expunge it.
And so it is that the same words are used to describe two very different experiences.