I paced the room and still can recall in vivid detail looking at each of the pictures. I stared at each one as I listened to the new-age music that played at a beat slow enough to reduce the tempo of my heart somewhere above comatose.

Then, in walked a blonde who instantly recalled my name. That's fine, I'm a rather good looking man and such recognition happens quite often. It was possibly an adoring fan or the such. I lied down under the blanket and she started the massage. Now, as people who have gotten a massage know, it's an intimate experience. Not many people really touch my body lately, except for my wife, so there is certainly a degree of intimacy.

This masseuse was a pro. Parts of me were relaxed that never were and other parts felt all sorts of fuzzy inside. I even admitted my body hurt from hiking and she gave a knowing laugh. Then I opened my eyes again, and looked again.

I paused, my breathing stopped.

"Oh crap, it's Melinda from the hike," I thought in a panic.

"She saw me clothed today and now was massaging everywhere but my doodle diddles just a few hours later," I thought while crossing my legs.

Worse yet, she was incredible at what she did. It was a colliding of worlds of intimacy.

Anyway, I'm still in the middle of this letter and I'm mentioning the spa so I should mention another spa person. Margherita loved her as much as I did, so certainly she should be mentioned. Soft-spoken Deborah. Most people use the phrase, "oh you're so sweet" pretty much as a catchphrase. They'll say it to anybody who even picks up the newspaper for them but is it truly accurate and all encompassing.

Deborah is by far one of the sweetest women that I've ever met in my life, of course, excluding my lovely bride. Not only does she act sweet but her voice is so soft spoken and sweet it has the effect of a hypnotic CD and instantly puts you at ease.

For Deborah, I went through what most men would consider torture and smiled. She put me in a hot box that caused me to sweat. She called this strange wooden coffin a "sauna." I sweated. To make this torture easier, she gave me some herbal tea to drink while I sweated.

She then had me lie on the table and she covered me with mud. Mom told me never to get dirty but there I was dirty. She then did some sort of procedure, which involved scraping me and she called "exfoliation." Needless to say, I survived but with Deborah's sweet attitude I might admit in some groups that I actually enjoyed it. You simply felt as if you had to trust Deborah. One was forced to feel safe with her.

Margherita had what was called the Seven Heavens Aromatherapy, which basically involved making her smell some oils and stuff and rubbing them and putting them places. I really didn't pay much attention as Margherita described it in that girlie detail which I had no particular interest in listening to. Afterwards though she looked like she had used illicit drugs or was shot with a horse tranquilizer. My hyper-active wife was finally slowed to a pace somewhere below normal.

This was good.

Walking the Labyrinth

But no, you're right we weren't there to hike and spa, but we ate. And just like Deborah did, to me I was not given my usual diet. I was tortured. Normally, I'm sneaking in Taco Bell or, even better, I partake of the sour candy from 7-11. I explained to Margherita that all of the chemicals means it's extra healthy, but she starts screaming about cholesterol. Yes, I remember, carbs are the enemy.

For an entire week, I ate nothing but healthy food. Nothing fake, and everything was, God forbid, all natural. On the first day I was hungry and I demanded more food. Sam brought it quickly over and I ate my second tuna. It was seared with this great sesame seed covering and it was so good, but that's not the point! I deserved candy. I like candy. They have songs about liking candy, not about healthy food.

By mid-week I was eating only one meal at every sitting, but I was snacking on nuts and fruit and cheese sticks. I thought cheese sticks were like candy, but Margherita pointed out that they were lo-fat. They even tricked me into eating tuna every day by having it all spicy and nice, like I like. That was wrong and deceitful.

To what did I deserve this? What did I do wrong? My body was a finely tuned instrument that could eat an entire pack of candy and a slurpee. Sure my stomach would quake but I would survive. I could eat lots of candy and be happy. This magical power was taken away from me, as now I can only eat healthy stuff and I even lost my candy storage pouch. I thought I had developed an extra organ in front of my stomach (slightly hanging over my belt) to store candy. After one week the slight hang is gone.

How will I eat candy?

But no, I cannot blame it on the evil healthy food. I blame it on Nelson and Bonnie. Nelson teaches yoga and has a body that makes one think that everybody can look like Schwarzenegger if they all did yoga. I only had enough strength to do yoga after two hikes, but I did stretches and Pilates with Bonnie the other days. Bonnie always looks equally as fit, but I shall not describe it in detail in fear of the marital ramifications of having such an acute observation. Needless to say, I sat up straight during stretches with Bonnie.

After all of this, I was exhausted, but then it came time to relax.

For that I thank you personally. Mike, you led meditation and even though you believed in the wacky Chakra and other new-age foo foo stuff, I still tried it. I did the "heart meditation" and I did the crystal one, and I even walked the labyrinthine. Something really annoying happened though.

I used to speak really fast and have this "New York" edge, which other people simply call a neurotic personality. Instead I lost it completely and was traumatized when I noticed how fast people moved back home.

When we got to the airport afterwards things had changed. The world seemed faster and I felt my heart beating slower. It was almost as if the world was dancing to techno music while I heard my own private symphony.

Yes, I could mention that the room we stayed in at the spa was actually bigger than our house in terms of square footage. I can mention that the grounds are covered by roses unlike which I've ever seen. I can even mention that I learned golf and tennis or even how we got great medical advice from Dr. Reynolds. If I mentioned all of those things I'd pretty much bore you, as this letter has gone on quite long already.

Climbing to the Summit

I think the point is the results. I've lost my super-power of candy absorption and my extra storage belly. My back pain is diminished and I've seen beautiful red canyons. Hopefully the effect will last longer, but at the least I have Margherita's pictures of red mountains to think about.

Part 1
Part 2
Part 3
Part 4