The perils of spa treatments, as explained by a bureaucrat...

Nakedness, the province of the buff and lithe, and those who intend to defy convention. Not necessarily for me then, you might think and, for the most part, you'd be right. After all, I like the human species, and too much exposure to this rather out of shape (albeit less so currently) bureaucrat is unlikely to add much to the sum of human art.

However, I do like my spas, and have over the years taken advantage of them for emergency, and not so emergency, pampering opportunities. The catch is that they're all different. Today, I turn my mind to the bit that causes more hassle than any other, i.e. what is it that you wear in the spa?

I've just come back from German-speaking Switzerland, having taken a bit of a rest cure. For a slightly repressed Brit, the presence of a 'naked zone' in the spa was something of a surprise. But that came as nothing when I suddenly realised that you're not only expected to be naked, but that there was no separate facility by gender. Yes, you're expected to be naked with other people, potentially of a different gender. Strangers, no less!

Over the years, I've found that the Germanic and Scandinavian countries tend to the view that wearing swimwear in the sauna, for example, is unhygienic. You are, after all, supposed to sweat, not something that goes well with clothing of any sort. For your massage treatment, nakedness is de rigeur - your masseur/masseuse is trained in draping, whereby most of you is covered by a towel whilst they work on the bit that is exposed. And they've probably seen most things over the years...

Once you've got used to it, you can relax and go with the flow, although I acknowledge that it isn't for everyone. But the experience is meant to be enjoyable, right?

In Britain, the idea that you might be naked in anything other than a changing room environment is looked upon with something akin to horror - it's that repressed thing again. What it does mean is that you need to pack swimwear for the UK, and for other Anglo-Saxon countries. And as for other countries, well, it depends on the influences locally. I've been offered tiny paper underwear in New Zealand and Poland (not designed for the more portly figure, let me tell you).

And so I've learned to ask the simple question when enquiring about a spa, "textile or non-textile?". It does tend to save a lot of embarrassment in the long run, and you can pack accordingly...

Pampering my inner walrus

It was Christmas here in Creeting St Peter today, or at least, time for me to enjoy my gift. Yes, I know, Christmas was some time ago, but we're busy people, and we still haven't actually had the balloon ride that my parents generously gave Ros last August. And so, we set off this morning to Elveden Forest for a spa day.

Now, I know what you're thinking. Yes, I do liken myself to a walrus, and that isn't perhaps the sort of thing that a walrus would like, but actually, I do rather enjoy being pampered, and I do like a good spa. I've found time for pampering in as far flung places as Bogota and Ho Chi Minh City, and even though my self-image problems persist, I can deal with that for a while, in a good cause.

The other advantage of being at a spa is that you're cut off from the outside world. No iPhone, no iPad, just gentle steaming, massage, the odd dip in the pool, perfect when your political party has taken a merciless kicking in a national election and your party leader is being called on to resign.

It was, I must confess, very pleasant. And, it seems, we aren't yet in the market for a new leader...

Blown away in the City of Sails

I woke up this morning and sleepily grabbed the television controls to catch the end of the Angola vs. Portugal game. Nothing happened. I pushed the button again. Still nothing. And then I noticed that the clock in my room was flashing 12:10. I can't have overslept that badly, can I? Look out of the window, rain is blowing sideways against the glass and the wind is gusting at speeds above 60 mph... and I'm on the 27th floor...

Ring reception. "Oh yes, Mr Valladares, there's just been a city wide power failure. We've turned the generators on but nothing else will work until the problem is fixed." Oh, that's alright then. And everyhting is still down, except, curiously, this computer.

Rotorua was as much fun as I suspected it would be. I had my day at the spa (twice), enjoying a mud wrap on Thursday and a pumice exfoliation/Aix massage on Friday, followed by a lazy soak in the thermal pools. Having discovered the joy of spa, I'm amazed that women got away with keeping this secret for so long. What could be better than being mindlessly pampered for a few hours (and no, that isn't intended to be a challenge!)?

Saturday saw me at the top of the zorb slope and I now have a DVD of my first two rolls (isn't technology wonderful?). I really have got a taste for zorbing and would recommend it to virtually anyone. Check out www.zorb.com for more information...

Yesterday was a travel day and I made it safely to Auckland, got to the hotel and snagged an upgrade to the Crowne Plaza Club floor (free continental breakfast, free computer access, free drinks and nibbles in the evening...). But, yet again, I find myself sharing the hotel with rugby players. Last year, the Wests Tigers rugby league team were staying here, led by their star player, Benji Marshall. He's not very big, but when you see him in lycra, you understand why he's so popular (if you know what I mean). What there is is all muscle and he's certainly powerful for his size.

This time, the hotel is inhabited by the Irish rugby union squad, fresh from their 34-23 defeat by the All Blacks in Hamilton. Their scrum was pushed all over the park by the men in black in that game, but they pluckily fought for the full eighty minutes. I don't hold out a lot of hope for them in the second game though.

Finally, I got to meet the newest member of the Valladares family, Georgia, who is just 37 days old. She's kind of cute in a "small baby, can't tell who she takes after yet" sort of way. I'll add some pictures at some point...