There are hundreds of different activities and classes on offer at Centerparcs. They all cost extra and if you participated in all of them you’d have to remortgage your house by the end of the week. While we were there we generally kept to the free stuff – the playgrounds, the walks, and the swimming pool (sorry, the Sub-tropical Swimming Paradise).
We did treat ourselves to the odd supplementary activity however. Amy went on a horse-drawn carriage ride, Kerry and her Mum took salsa and tai-chi lessons, and Evan and I went to baby massage.
We’d done baby massage with Amy when she was smaller, and we did have Evan’s name down for classes this time too, but for some reason the instructor never got back to us. When I saw it listed among the classes available on our holiday I thought it was a good an opportunity as any for Evan and I to do a bit of male bonding. It was either that or the father/son soccer sessions and to be honest I’m not sure which of us would be the worse player.
All in all the lesson went pretty well. Evan wasn’t too keen on having his temples massaged, but he certainly liked his legs, back, and chest rubbed and he definitely seemed to be a rather contented chap at the end of it all.
I was actually the only person in the class, so got one on one instruction from the lady taking it. There were a few sticky points however. I began to get a bit tired of her enthusing about how nice it was to have a father take one of her classes. We also nearly fell out when she was telling me about how rubbing the lobes of his ears could help with teething problems and increase his appetite.
“Oh right” I said skeptically “How does that work then?”
She looked at me blankly for a few moments.
“It just does” She replied weakly. “You know, a bit like reflexology”.
“Ah I see,” I said, “you mean it’s complete bullshit dreamt up to fool gullible hippies?”
OK so I didn’t say that, but I wanted to. In the end I just made a none committal grunting noise and changed the topic. In the heady days of my youth I considered myself a bit of a post-modernist – truth was subjective and all perspectives on reality were equally valid. These days however I’ve fallen back on a rather more curmudgeonly modernist viewpoint and am demanding evidence before I commit my approval. Why can’t people just say it feels nice and relaxes you? Why do we have to sit through all this claptrap about the supernatural curative powers having your big toe rubbed?
Just don’t get me started on homeopathy, that’s all I can say.
I think Sean Lock best summed up my attitudes towards complimentary medicine. I misquote:
“If you’ve just been in a nasty car accident and you’re laying in a pool of blood by the roadside, what sound do you want to hear coming towards you: The sirens of ambulances or a bunch of windchimes?”
I’m sensing blocked energy in one of your chi paths leading to an excess of bile, have you tired gurana tea brewed when the moon is on the wain? *grin*
Have you tried a double Jack and coke as the sun sets?
How about when the sun rises?
The latter is probably not the best idea.
is it yoga class? :-?
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