As first responders, the daily and long-term stressors can too often take their toll. Hopefully, this week’s post reminds readers to take time for themselves. Pay yourself first!
Often doubtful of sales pitches, untried products and services, my suspicious side surfaces when I hear others extolling the virtue of an experience, especially when it is positive and the storyteller is adamant when questioned. The old adage, “if it’s too good to be true,” and so on. That theory was tested this week when I took Peggy’s suggestion for us to visit a destination spa experience. Bah!
Recounting her past trips to this health oasis, I was polite and wrote it off as, “glad you and the ladies had such a great time.” Until now, reports of the presence of male wellness enthusiasts did not strike a note that I was interested in playing. Finally convinced to take the plunge, we made the trip to Northumberland County, about 90 minutes east of Toronto. Upon arriving at Ste. Anne’s Spa, the castle-like property immediately captured my interest.
Peggy will quickly reinforce the description of my presence in most settings as a “loud talker,” a moniker I’ve earned fair and square. The calming environment of the spa is infectious once you leave your car in the parking lot, and the silence on the property reversed me; who am I to rock a boat in a setting resembling a monastery? Suggestions to dispense with cell phones and electronic devices were not a hard sell, though it took a conscious effort.
Colourful flowers and gardens cover the grounds on 400 acres of rolling green terrain overlooking Lake Ontario. In addition to the floral features, gardeners grow some of the produce that feeds the guests. Finally, the bakery completes the loop with fresh baked bread and pastry. Ok, so for once in my life, I am pleased to say this getaway was not a buffet-style vacation at an all-inclusive destination. No alcohol is offered by the spa, though you are welcome to bring your own wine to the dining areas to compliment your meal. Admitting that took some willpower.
An undeniable attraction to a hesitant first-timer is the promise of some hands-on therapy. A massage, Indian head massage and relaxing exfoliation foot treatment had me wanting to run back to the estheticians and massage therapist for another. But wait, there’s more. It would be too easy to leave everything on the treatment table and deny that it was the overarching experience that sold me. After only a few hours, I asked myself what had been infused into the cucumber water resulting in the relaxing waves I now believe in. No Kool-Aid is being served on this estate, lol!
We rarely passed a face that was not radiating a smile, including the innkeepers and spa staff. No request was too frivolous for our hosts, who were always around but never in our way. There was never any pressure to rush an experience or make room despite the scheduled treatments and meal sittings. The entire experience was inviting, putting all our senses to work as part of the package. Moving from one activity to another, I surprised myself with the urge to try yet another pool or lounge chair next to gardens buzzing with bees and flitting monarch butterflies. And I am usually a hard sell!
This is not a paid advertisement for this destination. Like most people, I walked through the front door with some extra weight on my shoulders. In addition to the typical ordeals we all share, I have been dragging, searching for a remedy. Some recent health issues left me wondering if retirement is all it’s cracked up to be. Sporting a silent wish list of demands, my dubious nature just wanted to feel better. And this is where I get to brag.
Taking the advice of loved ones and the professionals at the spa, I hit a personal jackpot. The surprise was on me when I could sense the effects of the overall experience: the relaxation from the treatments, the calmness instilled by the quiet environment and finally, a change in attitude. I could have been an Olympic contender in the jumping to conclusions event. The brief visit dialled back my internal stopwatch, slowing me down a setting or three.
It is not too often I can reflect on an outing and admit that I don’t know why I didn’t do this sooner. Chalk it up to a stubborn streak buried somewhere, or maybe some slanted pride. This was different than a simple visit for a massage or an evening at a restaurant. The immersion process at this venue was successful, and it barely took twenty-four hours. Imagine my surprise; I dare you.