Spa day…why do the things I do

I woke up this morning sick as a dog feeling like an elephant sat on my head. I guess sleeping 3-4 hours a night finally caught up with me...scratch that - trampled, beat me, and left me brain-dead. It’s not a pretty picture.

After having my requisite eggs and fruit (this time with a side of drugs) Salim came to pick me up and we were off to Mumbai. The 3-hour drive flew by this time - Salim is extremely courteous on the road and seems to know everything about India so the ride was like a peaceful tourist transit.

We arrived at Le Maridien just in time for my first of 4 meetings. Today was another interactive marketing vendor meeting day and I again learned "yes, we can do everything! No, we haven't done that before."

Between meetings 3 and 4 I called the front desk to see if there was a pharmacy in-house. Ten minutes later there was a knocking at the door and a man with a briefcase and stethoscope around his neck burst into my room and told me to sit on my bed. He then proceeded to hit my breast and back with the stethoscope - him taking a deep breath with each movement and then moved on to waving a flashlight around in front of my face nodding and uttering "mm hmm. I see" as he waved.

Finally, the whirlwind exam wrapped and Dr. Stranger said, "yes madam, I will fix this" as he wrote out a prescription that filled an entire page. 10-minutes later and a silver packet of drugs arrived.

After the fly-by Dr.s appointment and back-to-back meetings, I decided to explore the hotel. I walked by the pool and various dining areas, and made my way to the in-house spa. I truly did go just to peak, but somehow got sucked into a pedicure and head massage. Why do I do the things I do?...

Three spa people walked me to a room to put on a robe. Then, I was brought to another room where the hair washing chairs were and was told to sit. The pedicure started with a $10 Target looking footbath which was cold and filled with daises. While soaking, the head massage began with a young man running his fingers through my hair and then massaging an oil that smelled like a mix between sugarcane and curry. Ewe.

More foot and head pounding later and then the young man put a large metal wrist guard looking thing on his hand and arm. “This is a vibrator,” he said, “nice vibrator – feels good.” Um, OK, the head massage just took another twist. He proceeded to run the machine over my head and arms leaving my body shaking while my feet were being worked on. Seriously, why do I do the things I do?

Time to explore more – no more spas, no more meetings. I hope I don’t wake bald and fungus footed tomorrow!