Natural Disaster

Newcastle Herald

Saturday April 22, 2006

HELEN KAPALOS

With the big move down south and all,

a crucial part of the settling-in phase

has been the search for some tangible

downtime to help recover from the

emotional dislocation of relocation.

Part of the adjustment means I can't retreat to my

home base at Hamilton every week, so last weekend I

decided a temporary alternative refuge would have to do.

Having tried to convince hubby of the merits of a health

farm once before, I knew I would have to tread carefully

this time, especially since, unbeknownst to him, I had

booked us into a Japanese retreat in an area known as

Australia's spa capital, just 50 minutes out of Melbourne.

While I was picturing a spa menu offering aromatherapy

massage and Chinese facial mapping, I knew I would have

to sell the location a little differently to my better half, so

I started carping away about the natural mineral springs

which awaited us, the luxurious garden walks, the great

cafes and restaurants, with equally great wine lists to

match. Sold! Excellent.

As we drove through the postcard-perfect setting

of the main street with all its eclectic charm, I silently

punched the air, reassured of my great decision.

When we pulled up at our sleeping quarters, I explained

how I had carefully researched the venue, which always

got rave reviews in the magazines for its great value and

simplicity. I kept up the hard sell until we reached our

room, where I remained quiet until our attendant left.

Even I was dumbstruck as we both took in our sparse

surrounds. The room had no more than seven items,

including a table and two cushions, a kimono featured as a

wall hanging, and a cupboard which concealed a bar fridge

without any beers. There was no television, no internet

connections and no bed. (We learned a futon would be

set up later).

To my great relief we discovered another door which

led to a bathroom. Phew!

I wasted no time in continuing the sales pitch. "Wow.

What a lovely, tranquil place," I said. "This is what it's

all about; getting back to basics." Was I trying harder to

convince myself, I wondered?

The next day I promptly booked us into one of the

many mineral spring spas in the area. As we luxuriated in

the spa and steam rooms, my optimism returned. "Doesn't

get much better than this," I declared.

Before I knew it my time in the spa was up and the

therapist came to collect me for a beauty treatment.

But as I delicately tried to step out of the spa, the

slippery floor got the better of me, and I was quite a

spectacle as I landed on the very hard tile floor. As we

surveyed the cuts and bruises on my knee and elbow, I

reassured the other spa guests who had witnessed the fall

that I was indeed fine.

Silently, the nerves were a little frayed. "Never mind," I

thought to myself. "Dinner will fix everything."

And what a dinner it was. No complaints there.

As we drove back to our retreat I thought our meal

had well and truly redeemed the events of the day. As we

pulled up, walked briskly to the door and commented

on the sudden cold snap, we discovered the doors to

the retreat were locked. We were locked out of our

temporary haven.

Initially we had a chuckle as we rang the doorbell,

sure someone would soon come and collect us. But 10

minutes later, not a soul.

Another 10 minutes passed and we started getting

desperate and very cold. We rang switch and paged the

owners. Soon the other five guests would be able to hear

us yelling. Everyone except the owners.

Hubby suggested climbing in and breaking the window. I

suggested we try to find the staff's private quarters. But as

we walked around the back of the building we ran straight

into a kangaroo ... a kangaroo of extremely confronting

proportions.

What to do?

Well, some minutes later the loud knocking worked and

we were rescued.

But it all left me with one conclusion: it was a lot of

effort to go to for so-called peace of mind.

Next time I might try something simpler. Perhaps a lamb

roast with all the trimmings, a home-made aromatherapy

bath or a lazy spell on the sofa with the novel I never have

any time to read.

© 2006 Newcastle Herald

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