Travel log – Day Four – Second day of fasting (part two)

After yoga, I was gagging for my first juice of the day along with my three prescribed ‘shots’ – first was wheatgrass (I have videoed my tasting session for you which I will upload as soon as I have time). Wheatgrass did NOT get any better the second time around. There may be horses all around the world who feel differently than I do on the subject, but wheatgrass shots, however fresh and organic and good for me, are like chomping on a bit of old moss as far as I’m concerned. And no matter how hungry I feel, it does not feel like food. However, the other ones (aloe something and another something – you’ll have to watch the video) I’m totally cool with. It’s not about them being delicious…they are GOOD for me. I believe the ladies who say this because they all have glowing skin and fabulous twinkly eyes. Although truth be told I’ve not seen THEM drinking the wheatgrass. They could have cheese and biscuits hidden in their rooms and be laughing at us all.

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After breakfast Nay had treated us both to one of my favourite things in the world – a hot stone massage. Nay went first, and I lounged by the pool with my laptop, chatting to the lovely people and attempting to start my blog of the day. Then it was my turn. All I’m going to say is that it was sheer heaven. The massage therapist, Katarina (I think that was her name) was truly skilled and my body was so ready to have the last remaining tension kneaded out of it. I left the room literally FLOATING. I almost wanted to cry with the gorgeousness of it all. Floating to the juice area for my second juice of the day (carrot/ginger), I effused to the staff about my growing state of bliss. It’s not just the massage. It’s everything about the place. I feel so *cared for* here. I’ve had other lovely holidays with my family but I’m always worrying if someone will get in trouble while swimming or get burned in the sun or get bitten by mozzies or forget their hat. Here, I don’t have to look after my sister because she’s got it covered. I can just *be* and let other people care for *me*. And they do it so well. I said it is like one of those islands in 1960s James Bond where he lands and the place is just full of beautiful people ready to give pleasure and comfort (but obviously here in Gozo they do it without all the sex and kissing). Or one of those planets Captain Kirk visited in Star Trek full of beautiful aliens where he arrives and soon doesn’t want to leave because they pamper and cosset him and it’s all fabulously lovely. I can feel my inner clenched parts unfurling. Regardless of what my waistline is doing…I can feel my inner being lightening.

I just read that back and I might as well be saying ‘Namaste’ to you all, mightn’t I? Ha! But I won’t. I won’t!

Immediately after lunch juice was a simply wonderful talk by a gorgeous and effervescent lady called Ina.  It was all about certain yogic practises that you could take into your day, and in particular your morning routine to support health and wellbeing. Everything from oil pulling to clean bacteria from your mouth to a particular type of breathing to release tension when you are anxious. I wanted to video her, not for the content (as I took photos of her notes and focused hard to remember it) but because of her wonderful gesticulations – as expressive as a ballet dancer with her hands, she had a way of saying things that made even the rather airy fairy stuff sound completely sensible and worth a try. Although when somehow conversation within the group drifted to people in other countries who ‘milk toads’ for ‘toad medicine’ I started to draw a line. Milking toads? It’s a good thing I’m off dairy. I don’t even want to know how you milk something that doesn’t have nipples. NOBODY answer that!

This afternoon I was all set to face my nemesis – the home enema kit. I really was. But then Nay said there was a fiesta down at the sea side in Xlendi (pronounced zjlendy) where they have ‘a greasy pole contest’! And we bundled into the car and zoomed over there to fit it in between our mid afternoon juice and dinner broth. Xlendi harbour was full to the brim with boats and happy people.Walking along the sea front past cafes and restaurants serving gorgeous fresh grilled fish, cheesy pizza things, bowls of salty chips…was quite challenging. I felt a bit faint and wobbly and worried I might topple off the edge of the harbour whilst pining for a chip, but I took it slowly as we walked around the edge of the sea, sipping water to keep me going…trying not to fall nor mug tourists for food scraps.

True enough there was a greasy pole contest but we had missed it. Thankfully there were still plenty of people having a go for us to gawp at. Maybe practising for next year. Basically, they have a large greased wooden pole sticking up at an angle over the sea and people have to try to walk or climb up it as far as they can to get a flag or something at the end. The winner had an ENORMOUS shiny cup. I thought of all the things that could go wrong with this game, but it looked like the event passed without any accidents. Nay commented on ‘strange people with their strange and dangerous traditions’ and I pointed out that she comes from a town where the annual Cheese Rolling contest takes place and every year many bones get broken as people chase a giant wheel of cheese down a very steep hill.

After a lovely swim in the sea, we hotfooted it back to base for broth. I got chatting to a nice guest who turned out to be a writer for Marie Claire magazine, who is also blogging about her experiences. I suggested we swapped our blogs at the end to compare notes and see how our experiences differ. I don’t know if she will be completely prepared for mine. ;o)

I feel very conscious of disappointing you all today because I promised to flush my bum out with my first ever home-administered enema, but there genuinely hasn’t been time. I haven’t stopped all day. Despite having to do nothing here, there is so much to do and I want to do all of it. I’m less freaked out by the idea of the enema because I just want to try and do everything, suck the marrow out of life while I’m here and try all the experiences. So I promise to try harder to fit it in tomorrow and describe it in the lurid detail we Brits secretly get a buzz out of. I won’t hold back.

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