The un-spa experience

Lots to post about regarding our drive down, walk around Williamsburg and golf this morning. But let me jump ahead. I'm afraid if I upload the photos and start with yesterday, you won't get the true effect of my spa experience just now.

I had a 4 p.m. massage scheduled, but headed over to the spa around 2 p.m. There was supposed to be a 4 mile jogging trail around the resort, and I wanted to jog that, and end up back at the spa for a shower, dip in the whirlpool and some relaxation before the massage.

So I checked in, and no one at the spa knew where the trail was. As in, not the two girls at the front desk. Not the locker room attendant. Not two technicians we stopped.

I left the spa and went to the fitness facilities, which were in the building next door. Surely they could point me in the right direction.

Not so much.

The girl at the front desk didn't know. She left me for about five minutes to search out the answer, and could only come back with, "um, I think it's just past the tennis courts."

I headed that way, not feeling optimistic. But I ran into someone who was renting bikes, and he set me on my way.

After my jog, I showered (held the whirlpool for later) and lounged with some tea and a trashy magazine. Was called for my massage and I thought all was well with the world.

Then I actually had the "massage." Yup, it needed the " " to indicate 'so called.'

There were several points during the "massage" when I actually thought I might be on candid camera.

I selected my scent for the aromatherapy massage - vanilla. Then laid down on the table.

The table was made our of the same hydraulics that a hair dresser's chair is. So I laid down, and she started pumping with her foot to raise the table. This is not the smoothest of rides, let me tell you. Also not the quietest.

She started up at my head, and I'm pretty sure the eucalyptus menthol was not the "vanilla" that I selected. But whatever.

The masseuse was very professional. She just kept doing these things that caught me off guard.

Like sticking her fingers deep in my ears and pulling up, down, to the side, to the other side. Or sitting on the table with me. She would lift up an arm, or a leg, and sit on the table, then put the limb down against her. Or when she flicked - literally, flicked, like you'd flick at a mosquito - each of my toes. Twice.

The whole thing was just odd. It was a fine massage, and certainly relaxing. But it was all a little weird.

I am relaxed, and that's the important part. I got my dip in the whirlpool, another shower, and now I'm back at our room, sitting on the balcony (photo in next post), eating cheese and drinking an Oregon Pinot Noir.