Spa Trek

Trek of the Spas

Thank you for the rousing ovation welcoming me to the blogging community! A lowly ink-stained wretch unaccustomed to praise of any sort (especially from an editor) is starting a blog.

Write what you know. That's what they always say. Well, I know spas. I know traditional techniques. I know Hot Rocks have been dropped on my head. It wasn't a relaxing treatment.
I have one of those non-jobby jobs that everyone thinks is so glamorous. If they only knew. Originally I was a poet. In third grade.

That continued for a long time and I guess it was my bliss. 'Cuz I sure followed it. Or let it guide me. Or something. It's a Joseph Campbell reference that everyone has copied, including me.

But, what on earth is a freelance writer anyway? Let's see.


Imagine you're an airline pilot and have to convince the tower to let you land EVERY TIME YOU HAD TO. Now, picture a writer trying to "pitch" an idea, or two, or three, to an editor with whom you've hopefully, been in email contact.

Sometimes you get lucky, and get a "yes." And the landing is smooth. Usually, not so much. Expect lots of crash-and-burns in the idea-rejection pile.

Goes with the territory. It's a lousy profession if you want to make money. It helps to have a meal-ticket, I mean spouse or partner with a real job. (I love you, Lew.)

Mostly, it's the perfect job for someone with low self-esteem and lots of scatter-shot ideas, to begin with. Unless you figure out one important fact: it's not personal. Once I figured that out (and it took a loooooong time) I let a lot of baggage go. Even getting fired over the phone while the editor is chewing a sandwich. It's history. And that was for a 3-year-old weekly entertainment column. For a daily tabloid on Long Island. Hope that narrows it down for you.

But I'm not bitter.

That's when I decided to make this lousy-paying job work for me. As in travel writing and spa writing. When the whole massage industry was still considered illicit. So I learned about spas. And went to many, many spas. Some were good. Some were amazing.

And some really sucked.
But I decided that if I couldn't afford to go away to these places, it would be really fun to pretend to be able to afford to.

Here's the dirty little secret about the travel industry and magazines that write about it: Travel writers get comped all the time. Staff on reputable papers won't allow this, as they think freelancers who get comped are mere shills for a resort. A hack, bubbling over in praise and BS flowery description.

Not me. I have never allowed a free trip to prevent me from pointing out flaws or turn-offs. If I have a REALLY awful experience I might do the place a favor and NOT write about it. But it depends.

Mostly I write from the hip, which is a fun phrase to use, considering I've just recently moved from New York to Tucson! Talk about change and culture-shock. Don't say it. Tucson DOES have culture. I just haven't discovered it yet. But it has some amazing spas. And I'm sure I'll ferret out the culture. Or culcha, as New Yorkers might say.

About the comps--It's a known thing in the business, probably not so much in the consumer world. Magazines have staff members who go on trips for free. But they don't have out-of-pocket expenses and they're on staff. How could a freelance writer afford to take a spa vacation? On 50 cents a word? (That's if you're lucky.) Most outlets pay crap and freelancers are thrilled to be invited on what's deemed "Press Trips." Which are freebie vacations.

Some who go on them are legitimate writers. Others might write little ditties for their local Pennysaver. Many are older women bored with staying home, maybe divorced and looking for a thrill. And then there's always a crazy or two. Demanding, impossible to please and annoying as hell.

And these "Press Trips" are usually over-managed by zealous public relations folk who want to make sure all their clients get in on the exposure.

So an "Itinerary" is always planned, with every minute accounted for. Go here, go there, eat now, chat with strangers, pretend to be happy with your undercooked chicken. I'm not complaining, just reporting.

So I stopped taking those "Press Trips" after one too many horrific experiences, about which I may divulge later. Now I go on individual trips, thanks to the fact that I'm fairly well known in the industry as a "producer." Meaning, I write for glossy, consumer publications. Now I'm trying out this blog thing. Since I'm such a technophobe, it took me only 7 years to plunge in. With help from one cheer-leading editor, this blog (I prefer the word "column") was born. Yesterday. And if you notice typos, blame me because there is no filter and I don't always re-read what I write. So bear with me as this thing of mine progresses and I get less reticent about posting.



So the Spa Trends idea came into fruition.

I'd love to share some of my experiences, even the wacky, insane ones. Like the time I was screamed at in the Four Seasons lobby. But that's another story.

Now, I'm concerned about global warming and the environment and not because it's a trend now. I was writing about this subject 10 years ago. Of course, Rachel Carson was sounding the alarm, say, 40 years ago. No one listened then. Maybe there's a slight chance that we're not on our merry way to extinction.

So I narrowed my focus even more. To eco-conservation, to sustainability, to protecting the environment. Not in some crunch-granola rah-rah way. In an adult, professional way to introduce the notion of having a great old time at the spa, but supporting one that treats water and other limited resources, like the precious commodities they are.


You can google me if you'd like. Some really old stories are on there, and many of my more recent ones aren't. Go figure. But if this blog-column-thing becomes more than a pipe dream, then keep checking in and I'll start telling some wacky, true stories. And let you know where the really good spas are--especially the ones that walk the walk of real conservation. And if you stumble upon this and want to comment, please do. Maybe I'll even figure out how to read them.


Til next time.