Detroit to Frankfurt never took so long. Eight hours of tossing and turning. I am clearly too tired to sleep. And REALLY excited, too. I will soon to be on German ground, officially, as a resident. Thank God for Woody Allen’s Magic in the Moonlight. If you haven’t seen it, do. It’s brilliant.
A week after my encounter with the dentist in Ann Arbor, I am still swollen, black, blue and purple with a growing slimy yellow melting down into the left side of my neck. Amazingly, there was no pain or worry during the procedure. But, ever since, everyone’s reaction to me indicates I am scary looking. People stare, quickly look away — and then extend kindness.
Glassy-eyed in baggage claim, I notice my oversized suitcases shooting out from the hatch, in order: first red, then orange, then silver. That never happens. A good sign. I am extra careful, not wanting to pop any of the remaining stitches inside my mouth or damage the oil painting squeezed between the nine-by-twelve hand-hooked Indian rug stuffed in the silver bag. I accept a sweet teenager’s offer to help. Another good sign.
And then, wrapped in Rupert’s arms, life is cozy and good. I’m home.
“Up for a venture?” he asks.
Appreciation. Apprehension. What to say? Time stands still for a moment … All I need now is … I’m desperate, Rup, I need a shower. PJs. Sleep.
But, I say nothing except, “Oh … ummm … surrrrre.”
Off we go. Driving for not very long, exchanging news along the way. My eyelids are heavy, and I’m seriously nodding off.
At our destination – Monte Mare in Obertshausen – we check in, undress, and put on recently purchased ultra-soft robes, perfect for this fabulous occasion.
Everything is spic and span. Everything that follows is in perfect sequence.
First a dip in the enormous pool, where powerful massaging jets shoot out hot soothing salt water as we work our way around the edges. Ahhhhh.
Perched high over the ocean of blue, a whirlpool welcomes a dozen of us, each swayed by the motion of the water.
Next is the steam room. Inhaling steamed eucalyptus that tickles the very bottom of my lungs, this little and very wet room is my favorite. We stay until staying is no longer an option. It’s too hot.
Still coughing, a bit, we settle in the resting room.
I am asleep before my head hits the pillow. Rupert reads. Several hours go by.
An occasional snorkel slips out of me. I roll over.
Grazing on crunchy salad punctuated by greasy potato chips, I begin to finally catch-up with being here now. And I am wowed. I look over at this partner of mine and fill up with the best warmth of all, a warmth that no spa, nor any other person, could begin to generate. I lean over and plant a kiss on his welcoming lips, knowing how incredibly blessed I am to be in love with my best friend. He gives me that look.
Walking… through… ice… cold… water… gets an after lunch… WHEW!! The “lie on the back” sauna is HOTTER than hot and I fall asleep again. Even more relaxed from the dry heat, I am acutely aware all of a sudden, of ALL the naked bodies gathered round. Rupert and I are sporting swimsuits. Drifting along in zzzzzland, a few more snorkels slip out.
ALL are abruptly awakened by a uniformed man (I think) about to express concern (I think) for the predominance of red splotch blobs all over my otherwise very white skin.
It turns out that he is the get-naked cop. With unnecessary commotion, he signals for us to strip down.
Apprehension. Time stands still.
Oh what the heck: when in Rome. Off go our suits.
Our comfy sleek huge tent towels don’t sufficiently conceal this out of our element REALLY humbling character stretch.
We scamper outside into the HOT pool and then into the even hotter still sauna. Feeling, for sure, less intimidated, and more daring.
As the bright afternoon light dims into a twilight blue, I feel the cold breeze along the front of my body, and doze into a cold refreshing zzzzz.
Rupert jiggles me, and suggests we head back into the heated indoors. I am shivering; his lips are blue. Invigorated. Now warm. Nice!
We agree on a grand finale in the eucalyptus steam bath.
A cup of tea.
More sleeping during our gentle ride home.
Hot water bottle inserted with fresh mint tea at the couch side (our temporary bed), I fall into the best ever night’s sleep.
No next day jet-lag is miraculous.
Never having seen so many dangle bits gathered in one place, a sea of all shapes and sizes, Thanksgiving 2014 has been all about not noticing. Well, sort of.
Relaxing. Enjoying. Savoring, something other than turkey and dressing. Being In Awe of life’s most precious blessings.
I like the German way.
I REALLY like Rupie-ventures.
With this fabulous airport pick-up tradition under my belt, I seriously look forward to arriving in Frankfurt for another visit to this amazing German spa.
We hope you come visit and opt for a “venture,” that unfolds into the ultimate antidote to jet-lag, winter blues and a taste of bliss.