Tales and Travel

It was the perfect place for R&R.  A small hotel (11 rooms). Splendid  views of mountains and a lake. A pool amidst greenery and blossoms. A comfortable room, nice staff, good breakfast – and a menagerie of sorts.  Plus, and most important, tranquility.

I loved it all. For my recent “cure” at Aix les Bains in eastern France,  I booked two weeks at Suites du Lac, a hotel outside of the town. I traveled to Aix by train. On the down side, the hotel was not convenient to the spa center without a car.   I took a taxi then bus to reach the spa for my treatments each day.

Never mind.  I had time, enjoyed conversing with my regular taxi driver Eric, as well as bus passengers.

During my second day at the hotel, I heard peculiar sounds while lounging on my balcony.  Maa… Maa  A goat?  Clucking. Crackling.  Chickens? No way. I was not on a farm nor in the country.  Perhaps too much spa water had seeped into my brain.    Later I noticed guests looking over a railing on the terrace at the end of the property.  I must investigate.

Aha. Below at a lower level there they were:  The creatures responsible for the sounds.  Two goats and a bevy of chickens.  I was fascinated. The chickens were beauties, all different and exotic.  The goats were small and cute. I took photos.

The Suites du Lac was built in 2007 by partners Jose and Emanuel.  They share responsibilities for the hotel management.  Emanuel is in charge of administration and everything indoors. Jose takes care  of the animals and the grounds.

I learned lots about chickens from Jose who is an animal lover and passionate about poultry.  He had chickens as a child, he explained, and now likes different races.  His flock consists of 20 different breeds.  He knows the characteristics of each.  “This one is South American.  That one lays white eggs like American chickens…” European chickens lay marron-colored eggs.

The life span of commercial chickens is just 1 ½ years due to their diet, he told me.  But his special fowl can reach the age of 10, unless they fall victim to a fox.  Several years ago, he lost 20 birds to a fox.  “A fox kills anything that moves,” he said.  The fox ate only one of the chickens it had killed.  Jose’s chicken/goat pen is fenced, but a fox can jump the fence.  He has constructed an enclosure under the terrace with an automatic door that closes at 10 pm.  Every evening he goes out to rescue the chickens which have chosen a tree instead of the enclosed hen house  for safety. They fly up and nestle into the branches to hide out.  

I was surprised  to see how easily he captured the chickens – no resistance.  “They know me,” he said.

He has only hens which lay about 20 eggs per day.  He did have a rooster, but neighbors complained about the too early wake-up call.

Two 16-year-old miniature Pinschers and a cat also live at Suites du Lac.  And, for a brief period  of time during my stay, a young injured  pigeon.  Jose rescued it from a bakery where it cowered in a corner.  After a few days of TLC, he released it.

Since I too am an animal lover, the animals were a bonus for me.  

Unfortunately, it was hot, very hot during my June stay in Aix-les-Bains.  Temperatures were in the upper 90s F every day.  The town tourist office offers a variety of interesting walking tours, but there was no way I could  enjoy a walking tour in that heat.  I hung out at the hotel pool every afternoon after my treatments.  Even that was hot, but I swam my laps and took shelter under an umbrella.  I read.  I napped. I relaxed.  I was alone. No responsibilities. It was bliss. 

When I needed a stretch, I walked over to look down at the critters.  The chickens huddled under oleander branches to escape the sun.  The goats found shade along the periphery of the enclosure.

The ambience at dusk when everyone had left the pool was especially soothing. I watched the sky change colors and mountain silhouettes grow darker.  It was all so quiet, peaceful and beautiful.

Suites du Lac does not have a regular restaurant offering full meals.  After my treatments I usually stopped in town and had lunch at a restaurant.  I tried many and savored some delicious meals.  In the evening I often joined other guests on the terrace and ordered one of the hotel’s offerings: Omelets, pizza, salads.

I had some tasty lunches in Aix les Bains, including above, a French version of Surf and Turf: Salmon and Chicken smothered in a lobster sauce

Unfortunately my spa treatments did not do much for my bodily ailments. However, Suites du Lac therapy was the best for the spirit.

Les Suites du Lac: www.lessuitesdulac.fr

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Coming soon: The mighty Dolomites.

“What is going on with those … white coffins? Iron lungs? Strange toilets?” friend Betty asked on Facebook.

I had similar thoughts and wondered what I had gotten myself into when, on day one of my two week “cure” program, I followed an aide to the “Berthollaix”  room.  There it was – not a coffin, nor an iron lung, not even a strange toilet, but bizarre Berthollaix.   Even the name was foreboding.

The aide closed the door, told me to shed my robe and flip flops, and sit in this strange, hard plastic chair with protrusions  digging into my back.  Was this some kind of electric chair about to bombard me with painful shocks?   It did not appear too friendly. She then placed a large plastic shield over my entire body.  I was trapped, locked in.  She closed the door and left. I do not scare easily, but this made me nervous.  How could I escape if, whatever was about to happen, was too painful? What if she forgot me?

Suddenly warm air engulfed my body. The air changed to tepid water, thermal water rich in minerals for which the spa is known. Had the chair been comfortable and minus those nasty things piercing my back, it would have been pleasant.  I endured, about 10, 12 minutes.   The aide returned to release me. Unscathed, I moved on to the next treatment. 

Spa Thermal Chevalley and spa pool

I have serious arthritis and a serious limp. Since I had a two-week break from my duties as Alzheimer care giver – Bob’s daughter and son were minding him – I decided to focus on my decaying body. Off I went to the Spa Thermal
Chevalley at Aix-les-Bains, France, a health spa known for rheumatology treatments.

It all begins with a quick visit to a spa doctor who decides which  treatments are best for you. He asked me to bend over and touch my toes.  No sweat.  I had to show off, went a step further, and put my hands flat on the floor.  He was impressed. Maybe I am not in such bad shape after all?  He specified three different treatments one day, followed by two different ones the next.  Only one hour per day total.  

After Berthollaix, I dutifully marched off with many others, all clad in white spa robes and clutching their blue treatment bag, to the next station. Under the obligatory white robe, all wear a bathing suit, and keep it on, except for the mud treatment, day two for me. 

Douche penetrante  (penetrating shower) was my favorite.  No ominous machines, but  a massage table under jets of warm spa water.  I lay under the delightful shower  while a therapist massaged my aging body.  It was heavenly.  “Don’t stop.”  But he did.  

The next treatment was “Pedidaix” – another weird contraption to sit in, several rows of these monsters in a large room. This time alternating jets of warm and cold water hosed the lower legs. Good for circulation, I was told.

Pedidaix is said to help circulation. Cool spring water quenches thirst.

I could have skipped Pedidaix and replaced it with more of the mud wrap, a treatment  on day two of my program. I lay on a slab of warm, milk chocolate brown earth which had been mixed with thermal water.  An aide lathered my arms and the tops of my legs with more of the viscous matter, then wrapped me in plastic.   I felt the warmth penetrating my pores, visualized it soothing my pain.  If anything could cure, this must be it.

The thermal water at Aix-les-Bains (Aix the baths) has been revered for centuries.   It was first discovered by Celtic knights.  In 120 BC the Romans built baths there.  The sulphurated waters come from a kilometer deep in the earth emerging at 38 degrees Celsius ( 71 degrees Fahrenheit). Analgesic and anti-inflammatory properties  are attributed to the cherished water. 

I spoke to a woman from Paris on her fifth visit to the Spa.  “I would not be this good if I did not come every year,” she told me.  “It helps for six months.  I can forget my medications.”   Another Parisian who is a regular said it does not cure but soothes. 

Most “curists” were on a three-week program paid for by the national French health insurance if one had a doctor’s prescription. I could have had the prescription,  but I did not have the three weeks required for insurance payment.  I paid about $600 for my program.

The Spa is run with assembly-line efficiency:  Lists, checkmarks, numbers.  Sign in here, get your towel  and robe there, move on to another desk and take a number.  Every day some 1,000 treatments are administered.   About 200 caregivers  are employed to administer the treatments,  each catering to 22 clients per day.   There are many more female than male clients, and most are of a “certain age.” 

Aix-les-Bains is a pleasant town in eastern France, population 31,000,  on the shores of  Lake Bourget, the country’s largest natural lake of glacial origin.  Thermal waters were the main attraction for many years. The rich and noble, many who came to take the waters, popularized the town during the Belle Epoque (1871-1914).  These days water sports on the lake and hikes in the nearby mountains are major drawing cards.

My two weeks away were very therapeutic.  Most of the treatments were soothing.  Unfortunately I have no lasting physical benefit.  But, I did profit from my break, mostly, I think, thanks to blissful relaxation at my beautiful, small, tranquil and unusual hotel.  More about that in my next post.

Will you return next year to the spa? – a question I heard often.  No.  One encounter with Bertholliax and Pedidaix was enough for me.

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