L'hotel Flore, Royat, France
In a land far far away, when the American lady thought she could be shocked by the culture no more....
she visits a spa in Royat, France and... she gets a massage.
I had heard that massages in France were sans clothes but I thought that surely meant in the same way you are barely clothed in America. Not a lot on underneath, but the important parts completely covered up.
I have always found spa treatments - massages, facials, foot rubs - a little awkward. Maybe it is the inherent intimacy (in a totally non-sexual way) of having someone rub parts of your body. Maybe it is the tension created with knowing whether to talk or not and when. Maybe it is the New Age environment that envelopes you when you walk into the dimly lit room smelling of incense with Enya chiming in the background. Maybe it is a combination of it all. But, usually the experience is pleasant and I drift away into a relaxed semi-sleep state - feeling refreshed and not nearly as uncomfortable after wards as I did upon entry.
Last weekend, for one night for my Christmas present, I left Freddie and the kids and stayed in a hotel and had a soin du visage (facial), reflexologie plantaire (foot massage) and a californie massage (California style massage) at the adjoining spa. Up until the point of the massage, the uncomfortableness was limited to the language barrier. Totally manageable with broken french, sign language and copious and sometimes insulting usage of the "tu" form of the verb instead of the respectful "vous" form (I mean, really, it is asking too much to remember two "you" verb conjugations.. some choose to err on the "vous" side and I always seem to err on the "tu" side... ah, c'est la vie). The morning of the massage I have a breakfast fit for a king (or 3 or 4 of them) and leisurely read the US Today newspaper before doing 20 sit ups (in a lame attempt to burn off the 2000 calorie meal I consumed the previous night and the inordinately large breakfast I just ate) all while listening to an awesome 80s radio station on french tv - rock on Cyndi Lauper!
I put on my fluffy bathrobe and soft slippers and head down the hall to the elevator to climb literally 1/2 of a floor to the Institut Sanhoa for my blissfully relaxing massage. I am pleased to find that the massage therapist is going to be the same lady who did my facial and foot massage the previous day.. no need to reestablish the fact that I don't speak good french and have to figure out how to communicate effectively all over again... we accomplished that yesterday... or so I thought. She instructs me in very fast french what to do with this piece of paper in a bag and how to maneuver myself in between the towels, follows with a "vous comprenez?", I nod my head and squeak out a "oui" (because, the answer is always "oui" even when it isn't), all while thinking that I have no idea what you are saying but surely it can't be THAT hard to figure out what to do with the paper-y thing in the bag (it is for your hair, right?) and how to cover myself with a towel on a massage table. Or, so I thought. She will return "tout de suite" (right away). D'accord, merci.
So, the paper thingamabob is not for your hair.. it is a "slip". (Please google translate for the translation.. It feels weird writing that on a blog and who knows what kind of traffic it would bring to my blog from the search engines) Ok, well, ok. That is about all I could manage at the time. What to do with the fancily folded towels? If I lift this one, the leather bed is shown. Surely, I am not supposed to lay there. If I lift this one, my feet are not laying on a towel. That can't be right. If I don't lift anything and just lay down, I am totally exposed. And, SURELY, that is unacceptable. So, I decided feet on bare leather table must be the way to go. I am sure that is what she said, after all. Slip, check. All necessary body parts covered, check. Therapist enters and giggles out loud, check.
Levez-vous, levez-vous! In my slip???? Oh gosh, I am really not in Kansas anymore. So, legs flailing everywhere with my trusty towels being removed, I find myself standing - exposed - while she re-fancily folds my security blankets. Prime example of one of those moments when you aren't quite sure what to do with your hands - where are pockets when you need them? Or escape routes, for that matter. I am then instructed that I should have used THAT towel -rolled up over there - to cover myself. Ah, phew, breathing sigh of relief.. at least that means I will be covered.
Recovered and ready to relax I begin to drift off into that familiar semi-sleep state when "swoosh" the towel betrays me and I realize those people with the "sans clothes" french massage theory were onto something.
All of that said and done, I had a wonderfully refreshing and energizing evening. In addition to the spa treatments, I was able to complete some tasks that needed to be done but I kept putting off, took a three hour nap, ate a four course meal without having to work on table manners, and read a book until my eyes would no longer stay open voluntarily without having to worry about needing to wake around 6am. Many many thanks to my sweet husband for giving me this precious gift. Next time though, I think we will exclude the massage from my agenda.
My room... super comfy bed with oodles of not useful pillows but they really do make such a cozy difference.
The his and her bathrobes in a very American style bathroom - aside from the half door bath/shower combo.. I will never understand that.
The dining room of the restaurant where I ate my four course dinner.
And... in honor of my friend Clarrette, I became a photographer of my food...
Course 2 - Smoked salmon cannelloni stuffed with goat cheese and veggies. Course 1 was a complimentary puree of green peas topped with whipped cream that kind of fizzled in your mouth like pop rocks. Yes, it was a hopefully once in a lifetime experience. 
Mmm... creme brulee. I had eaten so much at this point that I couldn't eat whatever creamy confection was in the cute little votive candle like container. I am pretty sure, I have never eaten so much in my entire life. I left out pictures of the main course of chipped beef in a delicious marinade topped with creamed carrots, asparagus and peas.
Despite over indulging the night before, I decided to partake in an American style breakfast with a side of the scrumptious french patisseries. It could have fed 5 people easily and I totally lived up to the wasteful American stereotype but I did my best.
The street view from my balcony.
The hotel is located in a quaint little city right outside of Clermont-Ferrand called Royat, France. It is known for its thermal baths and water. Adorable architecture and ambiance.
Aww... la Blanche Neige.
Papa and his petite princess, Emily Claire.
Mmm.. i scream... you scream... we all scream for ice cream!!!
Cowboy Josh.
