I’ve read that pigs are actually pretty clean animals, and prefer water to mud if given the choice, but whatever. Emylene and I did both mud and water baths yesterday, and it was all good.
Umm, let me backtrack a bit. After a fairly frantic workday on Friday (tried to be done early, got done late instead), we grabbed our stuff and headed up to Calistoga (best known for its geothermal hot springs, mineral water, and California’s own “Old Faithful” geyser). We were going to the Mountain Home Ranch to take part in the (surprise!) celebration of Lisa Feldstein’s (Lisa for D5 Supervisor - yay!) 40th birthday. Because of the over-long workday, and despite our best efforts to make up the time, we got there *just* after everyone the big yelling-of-SURPRISE (and pulling-of-the-party-poppers) moment. But string-from-a-can was still whizzing through the air (and Lisa still looked suitably shocked) when we walked in.
Anyhow, we hung out for a bit and said hellos all around, then headed upstairs to tuck in for the night, cuz we were plenty pooped. Work was so crazy that I’d only had a few (2?) hours of sleep Thursday night, so I was *ready* to crash. Plus the Calistoga air was crisp and soporific, and the bed was soft and comfy (although, it turns out, already occupied - more on this below). The next day was just a great, lazy day among lots of cool people, most of whom we’d never met, but all friends or relatives of Lisa’s. Meals were fun, tasty, communal events, and in between meals was “unstructured time” - we went for a short hike, chatted with nice people (both known and newly-met), strolled around the main drag in Calistoga proper, and checked out the petrified forest. The latter was very cool - imagine unearthed redwoods, made of stone, that were 2,000 years old when they died, and which had then been covered over for roughly 3.4 million years. Not in an indoor museum, but lying right where they fell. Downright trippy, I tell you.
Another surprise highlight was meeting a nice couple who told us about Lester’s Deli, in Montreal - specifically, that Lester’s will ship MONTREAL BAGELS (the REAL ones, from St. Viateur - accept NO substitutes!) ANYWHERE IN THE USA. Granted, they charge $16 for the first pound, and $3.50 per additional pound, but for the love of all that’s holy is it even remotely possible to pay too much to have REAL MONTREAL BAGELS shipped right to one’s home in San Francisco? Frozen, granted - but already sliced, and ready for toasting! I can taste them already - we’re already planning a mega-bagel-brunch with those fine folks, and I expect we’ll soon be spreading (like cream cheese, I tell you!) the Montreal Bagel message all over San Francisco.
After dinner we hung out a while longer, chatting with other guests, until the evening culminated in some (pretty-bad-but-very-fun) karaoke, and Lisa opening her presents (three words: GO SPEED RACER!). The next day, after another communal breakfast, we said our goodbyes and drove to Calistoga one more time. We had made an appointment at the (relatively) famous Doc Wilkinson’s for our mud baths. It was fairly hokey, as we expected, but an interesting experience. Calistoga’s known for its hot (and cold) springs, and by extension its hot spring resorts and mud baths - and hey, we were right there. Plus, sad as it sounds, I’d wanted to try it ever since seeing Tim Robbins and Greta Scacchi do it in The Player. Granted, that scene was shot near Palm Springs, nowhere near Calistoga (well, they’re in the same state - but it’s a BIG state), but I figure that sitting in a tub of hot mud is sitting in a tub of hot mud.
Some mud bath observations:
- For being a part of a resort/spa experience, mud baths (at least those at Doc Wilkinson’s) smell surprisingly bad. Nowhere in any of the brochures does it mention that you’ll be easing your naked self into what smells (and even looks!) suspiciously like a giant cow pie. Once you’re in, they squirt some aromatherapy gunk under your chin, and put some scented lotion on your face, which helps - but only a bit. It really just makes for a stranger mix of potent smells. Fortunately, there’s always odor adaptation to fall back on, eventually.
- The volcanic ash and mineral water are (presumably) local, but the peat moss (a key component of the stinky mud) was IMPORTED to Calistoga. From CANADA, no less. Yes, we immersed ourselves in Canadian soil. I couldn’t help but think of the Count Dracula legend - that the coffin Dracula sleeps in by day contains the soil of his native Transylvania. I’m not sure if this restored our supernatural Canadian powers, though. We might still have to drink the blood of the living. Oh, bother.
- The mud is THICK, and (obviously?) much harder to displace than water. This means that the mud covering your chest feels pretty heavy, and makes it a little harder to breathe. Both Em and I found that the weight of the mud reminded us of the experience of having one’s torso covered over by a lead apron at the dentist’s office, during a dental x-ray.
One strange turn - I noticed some red bumps on my hips when I got of the shower on Saturday morning. Seems like something (many things?) had bitten me. Then Em checked herself out in the mirror, and she had almost as many bites as I did! The good news is that the bites (well mine, anyhow) didn’t itch or hurt - but the number and pattern and timing suggested that we’d been feasted upon by bedbugs on Friday night. Yuck. Our room had a second bed in it anyhow, so we crossed our fingers and switched to that bed the following night. I *think* that did the trick - at least we don’t *seem* to have any fresh bites showing since then. But with this many bites, it’s hard to tell. If any doubt remains, I may have to get a marker out and “tag” all the bites we can find, so that we can tell for sure if any new ones show up. Yuck.
Sleep tight, gentle readers - and don’t let the bedbugs bite.
