Pros and cons of a health spa
August 5, 2011 @ 2:42 pm — Tags: customer service, luxury, strangers, Switzerland, travel
Yesterday, I was swimming in the pools pictured below. What heaven eh? What you’re looking at is a very large pool filled with hot spring water, and a smaller pool more suitable for doing laps. The big pool has a snail shell-shaped whirlpool, bubble jets under shallow seats, a big mushroom spilling water over the edges, sprays of water from pipes (ouch), and whole areas of bubbles under foot. All around are mountains and sunshine. What’s not to love?

I enjoyed the novelty and even emptied a bucket of cold water on myself after fifteen minutes in the Swedish sauna area. However, a two-day break of pampering spa time and treatments just isn’t for me. Don’t get me wrong, Les Bains de Lavey in Switzerland is a beautiful thermal spa with a very high standard of customer service, a wide choice of beauty treatments, and a lavish hotel with everything you’d expect, but I just couldn’t relax. Why? Because I’m not comfortable with nakedness in front of strangers. I struggle getting naked in front of the doctor.
Day One of my ‘Wellness’ package involved wearing just a paper thong and trying to gracefully get into a giant spa bath of water while the attendant watched. Once the spa time was over, there was the salt rub. Refreshing, sure, but lying for twenty minutes wrapped in plastic and a blanket is not my idea of relaxing, despite the calming music. I felt like I was in a body bag. Itches couldn’t be scratched and I was bored. Once unwrapped, the attendant watched me ungracefully dismount the table to rinse away the salt. I’m comfortable with my body, but I’m not comfortable parading in front of strangers covered in salt and a paper thong.
And then it got much worse. I had added a massage to my package and was greeted by a hunky young French man who, as he massaged my upper leg, told me to “let it go”. I said I was finding it difficult to relax. He suggested too much stress (nope), too much work (nope), and then in jest suggested not enough massages. Wrong again, young hunk. I couldn’t relax because I knew he’d soon be turning me over and seeing my paper-thonged body from the front while rubbing oil on my chest. Of course, to save my modesty, he had placed a towel over me at the start of the massage, which he held up above his eyes while I turned over half way through, then placed back down on me. But the towel doesn’t stay on. Why bother with the towel? He used it to cover my legs while he exposed my upper body and vice versa. Did I enjoy the massage? Kind of, but not really.
Day Two involved getting naked in front of the same attendant from Day One and some weird bath cocoon that sprayed hot water from above and underneath. I was covered in cocoa butter at the time, and was later slathered with mud by the same woman, then left wrapped up once more. No doubt many people love this, but it just wasn’t for me. Thankfully, the reflexology session later that day involved taking off my sandals only. Relief.

Before you study this photo, look at the logo for my blog. A beret-wearing cow with a curly moustache, holding wine and a baguette. It’s missing a bike and a stripy top, but it’s pretty stereotypical of the French. I did once see a man in a stripy top riding a bike with a baguette in his backpack, but only once. I’ve done a mean thing and embraced an unfair stereotype about the French.
As you can see from this photo I snapped last week, winter has arrived and covered all my flowers in snow. This particular flower is now under about 60cm of fluffy snow. Because of the snow dump, the La Balme area of La Clusaz was open for skiing last weekend, and I was there for first lifts on Saturday morning.
If you look closely, you can see buildings perched on the side of the cliff face in the distance. These are likely to fall into the sea one day when the cliff breaks off, joining the other broken bits of cliff pictured in the water. Corsica has a bit of everything: beaches, pretty walks, old bunkers, mountains, ski resorts, and Europe’s largest chestnut tree, which was kind of handy since a few days of rain meant fewer beach-side jaunts and more free time for other activities. In many places, the cows roam free on the roads, and although this could end in tears on dark and stormy nights, it was a pleasure to slow down to get around the slow-moving mooers, like the one pictured, on the mountainous roads. We had just passed this cow’s mum a few metres earlier and there was much mooing going on between the two of them.
I used this simple phrase the other day when I was in a giant stationery shop: “Je cherche les sacs en papier“. Okay, I should have said “des” not “les” but this basically means: “I’m looking for paper bags”. I wasn’t looking for anything fancy, such as this designer number pictured. No, I’d just like to have some brown paper bags to hold some seeds for the garden over winter and to see if putting my geraniums in paper bags from autumn will indeed keep them alive until next spring. So, after waiting patiently for at least five minutes while the only person serving anyone finished serving the previous customer, then faffed around looking for some important pen, then finally found it and bonjoured me. I asked the paper bag question and got a blank stare. Actually, I tell a lie: her face contorted as she raised one side of her lip and frowned while she jerked her neck back in shock. She didn’t open her mouth so I repeated my request to the contorted face, which remained contorted.