Being sick is for the birds

How could I get food poisoning when I’m not even travelling? It seems like the ultimate irony … I’ve travelled through India, Thailand, Malaysia and the Caribbean but I always seem to get sick when I’m home. Of course it has nothing to do with the ALLEGEDLY uncooked chicken at the ALLEGEDLY Wholefoods deli that I ate last Saturday and a few hours after ALLEGEDLY got violently ill. I’m just ALLEGEDLY saying.

But I digress. What I discovered is that going to the medi-clinic can be a great day trip in your own city. And when I say ‘trip’ I mean it in the most psychedelic way possible.

“How long of a wait will it be?” I asked, when I arrived at the bustling medi-clinic on Queen late in the afternoon.

“About an hour.”

I know that medi-clinics are packed on Mondays, because people have had the entire weekend to stock up on illnesses, and I generally vow to only get sick on a Thursday, but an hour wait didn’t seem so bad. Though the waiting room was awfully crowded.

A stocky young woman comes storming in with her older boyfriend (father?) in tow. “I put my name in earlier! How much longer?”

“You’re next,” said the receptionist, putting her in a treatment room.

The stocky young woman comes storming out. “How much longer?”

“You’re next, said the receptionist.

A muscular man carrying a sleeping bag comes in. “La la la!” he sings. “How long to see a doctor?”

“An hour,” says the receptionist. “Does it matter who you see?”

“Anyone,” he says. “Well, as long as it’s a doctor.” He turns and stares at me intensely. “No mad scientists.”

I thought he had a good point, but I avoided eye contact because by this time he was singing again. Then a tall lithe man wearing a headband comes in. “How much longer?” he asks at the desk. “I put my name in at 4:15.”

“You’re next.”

He goes back and sits down, talking into his headphone phone. “I don’t know why these people can’t f****ing do their jobs,” he says to his invisible friend. “Anyways, so the problem is that he likes to sleep on top of … whisper whisper whisper … I don’t mind but I get very sweaty.”

Now this brings up a pet peeve of mine. In fact, two. One, I thought the poor receptionists were really trying hard to do their jobs in what can only be described as bedlam, and secondly, if someone is going to talk on their cell, even though a sign says ‘no talking on cell phones’ then at least enunciate clearly so I don’t have to sit there desperately trying to figure out if this mysterious ‘he’ likes to sleep on top of the covers or on top of the lithe young man. People, have some consideration of those trying to eavesdrop!

The stocky woman comes out of the treatment room after seeing the doctor and goes up to the desk. “The doctor gave me these papers. They’re not in order. What papers do you have in the file. The staple came out! She’s going to lose them. Where’s the first page?”

A second receptionist comes out from behind the desk holding a file and asks softly, ”Louis?”

We all perk up our ears. “Who?” I ask.

“Louis?”

“Maybe the guy in the back,” a man says.

“LOUIS!” I bellow, getting into the swing of things, having found that once you’ve read Metro, the March edition of Flare, one health magazine and a tattered old family magazine that you will do just about anything to entertain yourself.

Louis pops up from the corner where he has been canoodling with his girlfriend. “Thanks.”

“Carl?” whispers the receptionist, holding a new file.

“Do you mean Carol?” I ask.

“Oh, that’s right.”

Yay! It’s me. I get up as the stocky young woman returns to the clinic. “What does GF mean?” She holds a sheaf of medical papers up to the receptionist. “Ask the doctor? What does this GF mean? Oh, there’s the doctor. Doctor, what does GF mean?”

“I don’t know,” says the doctor. “You’ll have to phone the hospital.”

“GF! GF! What does it mean?”

And then I was in my private little doctor’s room away from the madding crowds and I’d hardly even got started on a new magazine when the doctor gave me some medication. She was very nice. “Do you have a health plan?” she asked, and looked sympathetic when I said ’no.’

“But it’s worth it,” I added, as I am really tired of having a sore stomach. And then I was done. It almost seemed like a letdown. I didn’t get to complain, to storm up to the desk, or even to sing. But no matter how entertaining the medi-clinic can be, there is only so much fun I can handle in one day. And even though I’ve discovered a new way of exploring Toronto hopefully it was a one-off adventure and I won’t need to go back.

Just another day getting cleansed by a witch in Mexico City

First we learned why beer makes other people look hot. We also learned why beer spas, with their healing and skin-soothing properties, can make you look hot. Now it gets even better. Now you can be sizzlin’ sun-in-the-wintertime hot on a Mexican beach and once again, it’s thanks to beer.

The Mexico Tourism Board, itravel2000 and Corona have just launched  national campaign encouraging Canadians to share their zest for Mexico in a bid to win an annual trip for two for the next 25 years (!) to multiple destinations throughout Mexico. For all those shivering already at the prospect of coming winter, you might want to enter right now.

To qualify contestants have to submit a photo of themselves from a past trip to Mexico on the itravel2000 website. Even if you don’t have a picture of yourself in Mexico, the competition accepts created entries. Pictures will be approved and posted on itravel2000′s website where consumers will be invited to vote for their favourite photograph.

And they have to better than the Mexican photo above of me and the witch …no wait, they have to be worse or I won’t win. And PS: the witch is the one with the feathers.

For contest terms and conditions see http://www.itravel2000.com/wintravelforlife

Think abou it. With free Mexican trips for life you could a) drink a lot of Corona and b) visit a lot of great Mexican spas. Here are some spa ideas to get you started:

Rancho La Puerta – Tecate, Baja California

With 3,000 acres set in a valley just an hour’s drive from San Diego, the venerable Rancho La Puerta is one of the earliest eco spas. In true eco spirit, this family-run spa has been promoting sustainable practices for years. Organic gardens, adobe casitas, holistic treatments, an on-site waste treatment facility, natural lighting and “low-flow” toilets make this a solid eco choice. One of Mexico’s best-known spas, Rancho La Puerta has a long eco legacy, a history that goes back to 1940. (Read more on eco spas here)

Ixtapan Spa Hotel and Golf Resort – Ixtapan de la Sal

The popular 4-star Ixtapan Spa Hotel and Golf Resort is found high in the Sierra Madre Mountains, which means temperatures are balmy rather than sweltering, and was voted one of the most affordable spas in the world. Located in the small town Ixtapan de la Sal it offers 220 rooms, tropical gardens and seriously good prices on their 5 day/4 night Spa Classic Package  from September 19-October 2, 2010. (Read more about this great deal here).

One&Only Palmilla  Los Cabos

The One&Only Palmilla has a lavish spa with 13 private treatment rooms in a refreshing flowery garden setting and a variety of treatments and packages that will end the need for beer goggles once and for all. Try a Body Detox and Contour Journey, Super Active Repairing and Restoring Facial, or a Bastien Global Pedicure.  And of course it’s Los Cabos, so how can you go wrong?

Who is itravel2000?
This Canadian travel retailer was a pioneer of online travel and provides vacation packages, cruises, airline tickets, hotel rooms, and rental cars. Visit www.itravel2000.com. And win!

Beautiful inside and out

The drunker you get, the hotter everyone else looks – and many a Toronto frat boy wonders why. Now the mystery is solved. According to British researcher, Professor Lewis Halsey, the phenomenon of ‘beer goggles’ can finally be explained. It’s because alcohol impairs your ability to detect asymmetry, and symmetry – ie when both sides of the face match up – is a major factor in how we judge human beauty.

The results of Halsey’s study, which just came out in the journal Alcohol also found that when under the influence women are more likely than men to see the world through beer goggles.

What the study doesn’t go into is that women are also more likely to go to the spa, and with beer spas becoming more and more popular maybe more women will be seeing themselves (as well as their companions) though some esteem-boosting beer goggles after a healthy soak in a beer bath.

Where to go for your own beer experience

Czech Republic

Drink it, wear it - celebrate the hops!

The most famous beer spa comes from that brew-happy nation, the Czech Republic, where a glass of beer can cost less than a bottle of water. The Chodovar Brewery in Chodova Plana has been crafting beer for nearly 500 years and opened their spa in 2006. Guests can soak in a tub full of herbs, dark lager and carbonated spring water, a bathing experience said to be beneficial for the skin and circulation as well as reducing joint pain.

Austria

At the Starkenberg Brewery in Tarrenz Tirol, Austria, you can swim in a pool full of Pilsner.

The Landhotel Moorhof just outside Salzburg, Austria, offers beer baths, hops baths and even beer facials.

According to the Moorhof’s website, bathing in beer extract combats everything from inflammatory rheumatic afflictions, gout, skin diseases and poor circulation to making skin soft – though no word yet on if it will make you look more symmetrical.

Was it good for you, too?

To plan your own beer spa getaway visit the Austrian Tourism Office and the Czech Tourism website.

Plenty of nature and too many shops

People keep asking me why I don’t wear more jewelry. “Because I can’t afford it,” I say. In fact, I usually wait around to be given jewelry, which happens surprisingly often. At least once every 7 years. (And usually from my mother.) Though my significant other did give me a lovely black necklace a year and a half ago which I adore even if it’s not often strung around my neck.

I wear a Gucci watch that I bought in Barcelona in 2001 (which constantly screws me up because it doesn’t have any numbers so I rarely know if it’s four o’clock or five) and figure that’s enough bling on a day-to-day basis. So then, what happened in Niagara-on-the-Lake this week, when I plunked down way-too-much cash for a necklace at the Elizabeth Boutique?

Rock power

Agate, that’s what. It had just written about the mystical power of stones, including agate, which I had never seen. I only included it in the list of stones with special properties because it’s properties seemed especially funny:

Agate, a very ancient stone, protects from nightmares, stress, stomach problems and also wards off storms.

Now I never even look at jewelry in stores. It’s too dangerous because I can see it’s a slippery slope. First, you buy agate, then rubies, then a diamond tiara. And that’s just not going to be a good look on me. So why then, did I beeline for this big hulking necklace under the counter?

“How much is that one?” I ask. She tells me the over-$100 price and it doesn’t even make an impression. I swear I was under a spell.

“It’s made of semi-precious stones,” the sales clerk says. “Agate.”

Agate! Obviously it was a mystical sign from the heavens. I look closer, wondering why this necklace is insisting on making its way into my life. “Agate is such a pretty yellow gold colour,” I say.

“No, that’s the citrine. The agate is the purplish stone.”

“Oh.” Okay, so agate isn’t that beautiful, and it’s really a stone, not a gem. And I didn’t even recognize it when I saw it. But still, I bought the agate and citrine bling anyway. I was planning on cycling that evening, and last time I went cycling, on the coast of France, not only did I have an accident I got soaked in a downpour. At least this should keep me dry because agate wards off storms.

Is this a good look?

So then that evening I rented a bike from my very cool hotel, The Shaw Club. The waterfront trail along the river is not to be missed. And wouldn’t you know it, it starts to rain. Not just little drops but a drenching downpour. Yup, the necklace didn’t seem to be doing it’s job in warding off storms. Then I realized that it’s evidently not enough to buy an agate necklace, you need to actually wear it. This was a relief, as my belief in the mystical power of stones was wavering for a moment .

So with my faith in rocks restored, my thoughts turn to citrine. And agate nearly pales in comparison to the bounty that citrine is going to bring me. Known as the ‘success’ stone because it brings prosperity and abundance, it also wards off negative energy and makes you cheerful. So I’m not just going to be rich I’m going to be happy about it. Now if only I can remember to put the necklace on.

Take care!

I’m an extreme spa junkie but the death of Vladimir Ladyzhenskiy, a 60-something amateur wrestler, at the World Sauna Championships over the weekend, made me stop and think: when does wellness stop being healthy and start being deadly? (Read my article on Examiner.com about the tragedy here - strangely, the hits on this article have been through the roof).

A finalist in the competition, Ladyzhenskiy collapsed after six minutes in the extreme 110C heat and authorities pulled both him and the reigning champ, Timo Kaukonen from Finland, out of the wooden sauna. Both had severe burns and were bleeding. Uggggh. Horrible horrible horrible. It was to have been the final round in the competition, but for the Russian Ladyzhenskiy, it really was the final round. As final as  final gets.

While I’ve never had much sauna tolerance, I had sauna nostril-burn! It happened this summer in France. After I spent some time in a sauna breathing – I mean, how do you avoid breathing? – the inside of my nose was sore for a couple of days and it even scabbed. It’s weird … I thought that because a sauna was healthy it must be safe to breathe in the air, even though I remember it feeling hot and stinging. Lesson Number One: just because something has a rep for being a wellness treatment doesn’t mean it’s without risks. Lesson Two: No deep breathing in the sauna even if you somehow misguidedly think you are doing heat therapy for your sinuses.

Chilly!

The whole sauna championship disaster makes me think of the extreme spa treatments I’ve done. Cryotherapy - ie spending a couple of minutes in a minus 160C chamber, was probably the craziest. But I wasn’t trying to stay in too long. In fact I was very aware that after 8 minutes I’d be disoriented and somewhere around ten I would die. But a sauna? Who thinks of that in those terms?

I’ve also tried gas injections in the Czech Republic. “Getting a shot of carbon dioxide in the back is good for pain relief,” my therapist said. So I signed up, even though I had no pain in my back. Mostly I was curious. When they tried to inject it into my knees, however, I balked. No more gas injections for me.

While I have a high tolerance for crazy and insane spa treatments, I think I still know my limits. I would try a placenta facial or a bird poop facial (read that article here). And I would definitely ingest the fetal cells of a black sheep at Clinique La Prairie in Switzerland if I had 20,000 bucks. I’ve tried horse therapy and I’ve irrigated my gums with hot spring (thermal water) – all in the name of wellness. But there is one treatment I won’t do. Leech therapy(even though Demi Moore did it in Austria) is where I draw the line. In fact, when I think about it, I’d rather have a needle in the knee.

Basically, rock bathing entails nothing more than lying down on a rock. But not just any rock. The spa imported this rare black silica rock from from Hokkaido in northern Japan. And it’s a particularly healing type of rock. Allow me to quote myself:

Known as ‘phantom ore’ because of its rarity, black silica emits infrared rays – invisible rays of natural light – that help dilate blood vessels and break down toxins that are then flushed out of the body.

Black Silica also gives off negative ions, those feel-good energy-charged molecules. That’s kind of weird because I always thought negative ions were mainly generated by falling water - part of the reason that you feel so good sitting by a stream or a waterfall. Black silica is also said to have anti-microbial properties. So there you have it folks, black silica, is special.

My friend, Michele, believes in the power of rocks. And if you go up north in Ontario to the Canadian Shield and lie down on one of those big slabs of rock by a lake, it’s a pretty powerful feeling. There is strength in them thar rocks – maybe because they’re so ancient, so dense and so, well, rock-ish. But obviously if you’re lying down on a rock up north, you are also feeling good because you’re in wild gorgeous nature, probably surrounded by pine trees and water and enjoying a holiday so how much of that positive vibe can be attributed to the rock itself? Where is the science? Let me rephrase that, where is the rock-it science?

An all natural valentine in Turkey

There is much brouhaha in the wellness world on the healing power of cystals, gems and stones. Just a quick look on the Internet tells me that :

Agate, a very ancient stone, protects from nightmares, stress, stomach problems and also wards off storms.

Rubies prevent biliousness.

Amethyst can help with drunkenness (although personally, I’ve found beer works better).

Onyx is said to help with skin problems but lessens sexual desire, so you might want to take it easy on that one. 

And crystals, if you really commit to the crystal, heal just about everything. I have to say, however, that if you’ve watched the is-it-a-reality show The Hills recently, an obsession with crystals doesn’t seem to be stopping Spencer from spiralling out of control.

But back to the rocks. I don’t discount their energy. Places like Stonehenge, Avebury or one of the other gazillion megalithic sites throughout Britain weren’t built for no reason (excuse my double negative). Those Druids (although some believe Stonehenge was built pre-Druid) had a connection to the natural world we don’t. I’m not fanatical about it, though. It’s not as if I walk into a gravel parking lot and start feeling the vibe. But mostly I don’t scoff at the power of rocks because Merlin, that famed wizard himself, advised against it in his words to King Aurelius Ambrosius (Uther’s brother):

Laugh not so lightly, King, for not lightly are these words spoken. For in these stones is a mystery, and a healing virtue against many ailments.

And who’s going to argue with a wizard?

Try it for yourself: Iyashi Bedrock Spa is located uptown at 2662 Yonge Street, midway between the Eglinton and Lawrence subway stations.
Contact:
Phone: 416-488-7625
Email: info@iyashibedrockspa.com

Taking the bog's temperature. Don't worry - it's not sick

Strange things happen in bogs, especially in northern Europe where all kinds of rituals and magical rites went on during the Iron Age. I just wrote about visiting a bog, or muskeg, just near Waskesiu Lake in northern Saskatchewan. Read it here. As far as I know, no rites or sacrificial offerings have ever been made in a northern Saskatchewan bog, but there is still some of that mysterious otherwordly atmosphere. And while the 2-km loop Boundary Bog Trail near Waskesiu is a popular well-marked hike, there are many other less-explored bogs up there in the gorgeous boreal forest. Along with bears, coyotes, cougars and timber wolves, of course.

Let's walk!

As a child I spent summers at nearby Emma Lake, about 30 miles away from Waskesiu, and my sisters and I used to make regular forays into a dark mossy area we called the Enchanted Forest. There are no neat trails or paths there at all, you just enter this crazy forest that’s coated in sphagnum moss and sink up to your ankles in the stuff and know that you’re in another world. And because there are no signs or markers and it’s not on any maps, there’s no danger of crowds or tourists. I can truly say that I have never ever seen a tourist in the Enchanted Forest.

It can, however, be dangerously confusing. One summer John Cage got lost in there. Yes, I said JOHN CAGE. The famous New York composer. What was he doing up there, you ask? He was there at the Emma Lake Artists Workshop, a rustic art camp that drew a number of famous New York artists and critics like Clement Greenberg and Kenneth Noland and even Frank Stella. (Now it’s called the Kenderdine Campus but it still has artists’ workshops.)

I have never quite figured why John Cage, who is obviously a composer rather than, like, a painting artist was at Emma Lake but there he was. And then he was gone. Lost in the muskeg. Handily he happened to be a mushroom expert so he gathered wild mushrooms to eat while he waited to be saved. It didn’t take too long for someone to find him. I thought he was out all night, but my mom says she thought he was found in the evening. When he did finally get back to the art camp he cooked up the mushrooms he’d gathered and served them to the other artists, my mother, Dorothy Knowles, included.

If you go into the woods today ...

Maybe while he was lost in the forest he was thinking a lot about art and nature because while he was serving the mushrooms he stopped in front of my mom, a landscape painter. “Did you paint those beautiful paintings in the studio?” he asked her.

“Yes,” she said and ate her mushrooms, feeling very pleased. You might, in fact, even say it was music to her ears.

Note: There is some good information and pictures of artists during the 60′s in their studios at Emma Lake (including a couple of my mom) on the Art Gallery of Prince Albert website.

It was nice once we got here!

Now I’m not one to complain (oh, who am I kidding?) but after our EasyJet flight was cancelled from Paris to Nice because of flight crew problems last June and we were given a form outlining the compensation we would be entitled to, only to be told three weeks later that our flight had been cancelled not, after all, to flight crew problems but to air traffic control issues (how handy) so that we are not entitled to compensation, I’m annoyed. And I’m going public. Hopefully you’ll find my ongoing correspondence to EasyJet entertaining. Because I, um, don’t. Well maybe I do in an abstract awful kind of way, but conflict is no fun. And don’t these big corporations count on this? Count on wearing you down and making you slink away? I’m forcing myself to keep on. Here’s one for the little guy. Now come on EasyJet, why make it so hard?????

Letter to EasyJet July 28, 2010

Sirs,

In January 2010 I purchased 3 tickets for a flight from Paris to Nice for July 3, 2010 at 18:10 on my credit car #xxxx. The flight was cancelled and we were not given a new flight until the next day July 4 at 19:25. We want compensation but my credit card expired in Feb 2010 and so I don’t know how my money can be refunded because my credit card number is now different. As you can imagine, this was a very stressful situation and our 6 day holiday in Nice was reduced to 5, a trip that we planned 5 months in advance (!) so we feel we are owed compensation, but what form can I fill out to get a refund on my new credit card number? The name is the same on the card.The booking reference is xxxx.
Thanks, Carol Perehudoff

It was nice once we got here!

Letter to EasyJet, July 29, 2010

Thank you for your response. The problem is that is was not a problem caused
by Air Traffic Control, it was a ‘flight crew problem.’ I am quoting from
the customer service agent in Paris. There was not enough staff to man the
plane apparently. It was not an extraordinary circumstance and we were told
that we would be given compensation by the EasyJet representative. Please
advise on how to get my refund.
Thank you,
Carol Perehudoff

Yup, just delightful once we got here!

Dreaming of caviar facials at the Dolder Grand in Zurich

If you thought my article on spa treatments that use live animals was strange, treatments that use animal products (read my latest article here) get even weirder. Yet in some cases, they’re also effective, pricey and celebrities love them.

Would I use bird poop in my facial as they do in Japan? Yes. I mean, it’s clean poop and the enzymes are supposed to add radiance to the skin. Would I go for snail slime, the latest trend coming out of South America?  Not so much. But maaaaybe. Snail mucus contain all kinds of good things apparently, like vitamins and proteins, good for moisturizing and anti-aging, and as long as the snails weren’t hurt in the process. Although I don’t think anyone is following around a snail with a bucket while it merrily, albeit slowly, makes its way through a flower-filled garden. In fact, I’ve heard that agitating the snails causes them to release their healthy little stream of slime. But, um, what agitates a snail? Showing him a menu with escargots?

Caviar or not, the spa at the Dolder Grand is seriously swank

Anyway, read the article and decide for yourself. And if I see you walking around with a placenta on your face, I’ll know that you just couldn’t wait for the spa.

I want to ingest the fetal cells of a black sheep here!

Why aren't I still here?

It’s one thing to go away on a trip. It’s another thing to come back. What happens when the dream trip is over? At first it’s okay. For one thing, you’re so exhausted you don’t care where you are. And then you get to phone all your friends and everyone says, “How was France? I want to hear all about it!” Trust me, they don’t really. They only want to hear that you had fun, you’re alive and that you didn’t get pickpocketed .. unless you had an affair. Everyone wants to hear about that. Oh, wait. Did I say that out loud? Hey, I’m speaking abstractly here. This is theoretical, folks.

For a few days when you come back from a trip you are motivated by the excitement of your  return. It’s like that new fresh feeling you get in fall of hope-filled beginnings. For a few hours or days you see your city in a new light and you have a determination to get organized, to start anew. And then … and then …. blah. Then you have credit card bills to look forward to, and work that has piled up that you don’t want to do like your quarterly GST, and a dusty floor that needs cleaning and laundry and .. shut up already. I’m making myself feel even worse.

And why am I not still here?

So, having just come back from my personal dream trip in Paris and the South of France, here are my tips to adjusting:

1) Don’t stress out if you don’t seem to be able to get much accomplished. Travel is tiring – especially if it’s a trip abroad – and it takes awhile to recoup. Unless you are my boyfriend Mark who seems strangely refreshed.

2) Don’t feel bad because your travel companions recover faster than you. It’s just a sucky quirk of fate.

3) Check out something new. Nothing gets a person excited about being back in his/her home territory than tramping new ground. For me it’s going to be a trip to the Iyashi Bedrock Spa next week, the only Japanese Ganbanyoku (rock bathing) spa in North America. Apparently it uses black silica stones imported from Japan and I’ve had it on my radar for quite some time.  Expect a report soon.

4) Learn something new. Cruise the Net or read your local paper to find a talk or a workshop that will keep you motivated and interested in life. Tonight, for example, I’m going to a talk on blogging hosted by my local TMAC (Travel Media Association of Canada). Hopefully it will make this blog more readable (hey, don’t agree with me).

5) Meet someone new. No, I’m not saying go walk down the street and try to pick someone up (you should have done that in Paris because then your friends would want to hear about your trip). What I’m really saying is that as luck would have it, next week I’m going to have coffee with one of my fav bloggers who happens to be in town, Nomadic Chick. Yay!

6) It’s not all about doing something new. The best, the very best, thing about coming back to town is meeting up with old friends and having a beer (and don’t cry because it’s not champagne at the Hotel Crillon in Paris) and catching up on their lives, their latest trips and their most scandalous gossip (especially if they had an affair).

And especially ... why am I not here?