Word of the day: equilibrium
noun \ˌē-kwə-ˈli-brē-əm, ˌe-\
a : a state of intellectual or emotional balance : poise
b : a state of adjustment between opposing or divergent influences or elements
Exactly one week ago, I landed in Bali. Since arriving, I had little time to take in the sites, adjust to the heat, sleep, eat, or blog... but now, the Global Spa Summit has concluded, and - after a bit of sleeping in this morning - I put my feet in the Indian Ocean, had a massage, and at last, a few deep breaths. Tomorrow Molly and I head up to Ubud, to COMO Shambhala Estate, where we will stay for three nights. We visited the property last Saturday evening - the Estate itself has been built into the landscape of the Ubud mountains. Everyone we have talked to has said that Ubud is the heart of island, full of culture and tradition. I can't wait to get there!
Last night the GSS team and many of the delegates took a trip to Seminyak - which is the party area of Bali. We stopped first at the newly opened W retreat, and I had dinner with friends at a table surrounded a bamboo cage. We called it a lobster trap and others said we looked like little caged birds. After dinner, where we cooked our own salmon on a "hot rock", we headed to the bars - first a club called cocoon and then another one called the cave. Now, I don't know if you've noticed, but I saw a trend! Cage, Cocoon, Cave... for the past week, I have been surrounded by beautiful Bali - still closed in, surrounded, unable to let loose and soak in all in.
But today! Today we had a slow lunch by the beach, a dip in the ocean, and this afternoon, I had my first Balinese massage. My therapist worked hard on my upper back and neck muscles - removing the knots, soothing the tension. As the oils soaked into my skin, I felt myself transitioning to equilibrium.
I am ready for Bali.
Thursday, May 19, 2011
Thursday, May 12, 2011
Helloo from Hong Kong
Molly and I, after a 15 hour flight, have been hanging out in the Hong Kong airport - sipping Starbucks and working on emails... Our flight for Bali leaves in just about an hour. The airport is surrounded by mountains on either side - that appeared slowly as the sun rose.
What's on tap for the evening? Arrive in Bali, get to the hotel, squeeze in a workout to relieve the aches and pains in our knees, dinner with Susie, and then perhaps some organizing and yes, of course, handling emails...
Word of the day? Bandwidth :)
Sent from my Verizon Wireless BlackBerry
What's on tap for the evening? Arrive in Bali, get to the hotel, squeeze in a workout to relieve the aches and pains in our knees, dinner with Susie, and then perhaps some organizing and yes, of course, handling emails...
Word of the day? Bandwidth :)
Sent from my Verizon Wireless BlackBerry
Wednesday, March 16, 2011
Drained
microcosm\MY-kruh-kahz-um\
noun 1: a little world; especially : the human race or human nature seen as an epitome of the world or the universe
2: a community or other unity that is an epitome of a larger unity
Starting last Friday, my kitchen has been on a slow, minor meltdown. That morning, I was working on the dishes and I felt a rush of water at my feet. Looking down, I saw water pouring out from the kitchen cabinet; it seeped along the already warping linoleum tiles, threatening the hallway's hardwood floors. I quickly ran for towels and after sopping up the mess, I opened the cabinet door to investigate. A pipe, running perpendicular from the actual drain was dripping smugly. Several dozen paper towels later, I got things under control within the cabinet and resumed my stance at the sink. Then I turned on the faucet and did it all over again.
Thankfully, I was heading out for the weekend and thought that almost 48 hours without h20 would leave the sink dry and good to go. Any clogs might evaporate or decompose (ewww) and worse comes to worse I'd pick up a bottle of DrainO and conquer the unruly pipe.
Well, Monday was a crazy day. And, my fitness trainer gave me one hell of a talking to, which more or less meant that if I didn't get on the treadmill everyday for the next five weeks, I would end up wasting a significant amount of money and end up loosing a measly number of pounds. After that, I didn't feel much like DrainO.
But I did end up making a Pyrex casserole dish of chicken, a batch of sauteed broccoli and brussel sprouts and a pot of rice. Then I used a plate to dish up my dinner, and a fork, and a knife. There were a few serving spoons involved and colander. I had a "sink full" of dishes with no sink to wash in.
I had two options. The first, the bathroom sink is about as shallow as one of those seashells you find on the beach. So, I turned on the hot water in the bathtub and went to work. I bent awkwardly over the faucet and soaped up pot, and pan, and knife, and fork and impatiently waited until all traces of soap were gone from their surfaces. After rinsing each piece I ran back to the kitchen to deposit it into the drying rack, as if I was on Nickelodeon's Gag or Guts or whatever show it was that made fools out of the willing.
Tuesday, after a sushi dinner, I stopped at Duane Reade and found the DrainO. The last bottle. Dumping it down the faucet, I fixated my gaze on the drain that was bound to spurt. It didn't. But an hour later it did. This time with the stench of poisonous chemicals that probably shouldn't be going down drains in the first place. Papertowels back in hand, I was back in the microcosm of my kitchen cabinet, sopping up water and chemicals and rust. I waited for five minutes and turned on the hot water, in the gentlest of streams. It trickled and twirled down the sink and, for what seemed like ten minutes, there was no drip from the unruly drain. As long as the faucet wasn't on full force, it seemed as if, for now, the gremlins of the drain would be kept at bay.
noun 1: a little world; especially : the human race or human nature seen as an epitome of the world or the universe
2: a community or other unity that is an epitome of a larger unity
Starting last Friday, my kitchen has been on a slow, minor meltdown. That morning, I was working on the dishes and I felt a rush of water at my feet. Looking down, I saw water pouring out from the kitchen cabinet; it seeped along the already warping linoleum tiles, threatening the hallway's hardwood floors. I quickly ran for towels and after sopping up the mess, I opened the cabinet door to investigate. A pipe, running perpendicular from the actual drain was dripping smugly. Several dozen paper towels later, I got things under control within the cabinet and resumed my stance at the sink. Then I turned on the faucet and did it all over again.
Thankfully, I was heading out for the weekend and thought that almost 48 hours without h20 would leave the sink dry and good to go. Any clogs might evaporate or decompose (ewww) and worse comes to worse I'd pick up a bottle of DrainO and conquer the unruly pipe.
Well, Monday was a crazy day. And, my fitness trainer gave me one hell of a talking to, which more or less meant that if I didn't get on the treadmill everyday for the next five weeks, I would end up wasting a significant amount of money and end up loosing a measly number of pounds. After that, I didn't feel much like DrainO.
But I did end up making a Pyrex casserole dish of chicken, a batch of sauteed broccoli and brussel sprouts and a pot of rice. Then I used a plate to dish up my dinner, and a fork, and a knife. There were a few serving spoons involved and colander. I had a "sink full" of dishes with no sink to wash in.
I had two options. The first, the bathroom sink is about as shallow as one of those seashells you find on the beach. So, I turned on the hot water in the bathtub and went to work. I bent awkwardly over the faucet and soaped up pot, and pan, and knife, and fork and impatiently waited until all traces of soap were gone from their surfaces. After rinsing each piece I ran back to the kitchen to deposit it into the drying rack, as if I was on Nickelodeon's Gag or Guts or whatever show it was that made fools out of the willing.
Tuesday, after a sushi dinner, I stopped at Duane Reade and found the DrainO. The last bottle. Dumping it down the faucet, I fixated my gaze on the drain that was bound to spurt. It didn't. But an hour later it did. This time with the stench of poisonous chemicals that probably shouldn't be going down drains in the first place. Papertowels back in hand, I was back in the microcosm of my kitchen cabinet, sopping up water and chemicals and rust. I waited for five minutes and turned on the hot water, in the gentlest of streams. It trickled and twirled down the sink and, for what seemed like ten minutes, there was no drip from the unruly drain. As long as the faucet wasn't on full force, it seemed as if, for now, the gremlins of the drain would be kept at bay.
Sunday, March 13, 2011
Arts and Craft Beer
hermetic\her-MET-ik\
adjective 1: relating to or characterized by occultism or abstruseness : recondite
2a: airtight b: impervious to external influence c: recluse, solitary
This weekend, I was home in Delaware - the original cause for the visit being a bridal shower - but the weekend slowly enveloped into several visit with friends, good home-cooked dinners, and to my gleeful surprise, a visit to a local craft brewery in Greenville, Delaware. The spot was called Twin Lakes Brewery; the estate itself is little more than an old colonial house, a barn, and well, twin lakes. But right off the bat you could tell that this was a place full of life and growth - most notably so by the construction workers who were hammering and drilling on a structure adjacent to the bar, which we learned later would house a canning assembly line and outside fermentation tanks.
The first stop was the "tasting" room in the top level of the bar - comprised of an arrangement of worn-in, classic couches, fringy quilts, patterned pillows, a fireplace, and a bar - with two taps. That bar was serving two beers, the first being their signature beer - Greenville Pale Ale - which had a crisp, clean taste that was both refreshing and original. It paid the bills, our first guide explained. The second, a Stout, was deep and rich in color but surprising light on the palette, especially mine which was unaccustomed to dark beers.
Just as we were all beginning to question when the tour might start, it did. After searching for a spot to escape the noise of the construction, the CEO of Twin Lakes, Sam Hobbs, settled on narrow greenway between the pasture which housed the estate horse, Delicious, and the barn. Sam, who sported a Zermatt sweatshirt and sneakers, had quite a few things to say about filtered water vs. unfiltered water, and he shared with us bits of information about the landscape and the history of the Brandywine area. For example, the twin lakes on property were the site of Joe Biden's first date. He explained the brands of beer in the Twin Lakes arsenal, and the fact that all of these beers are made to be drinkable. He himself drinks his first beer in 6 seconds, and then slows down a bit on his second, third, fourth...
We ventured inside the barn to witness the manufacturing process and observe silent ongoings in the hermetically sound tanks and canisters. Yeast CO2 bubbled cheerfully from a pipe into a bucket of water. Happy Yeast it was. I was completely charmed by the human quality of this place. It was quirky; it ran with a improvisational feel. We chomped on barley and rubbed hops into our hands to smell the aromas, all the while sipping stout from a growler the brewer carried along with us. Someone took my cup, but I didn't care. By the end, albeit a stranger or a friend, we were all beer drinkers, and we'd get our fill of original, drinkable beer.
We settled back into the tasting room for a few more samples, and lingered until well after last call. We settled our checks and took along with us a few pint glasses and t-shirts, signs of a well-to-do experience. Fresh. Local. Delicious.
adjective 1: relating to or characterized by occultism or abstruseness : recondite
2a: airtight b: impervious to external influence c: recluse, solitary
This weekend, I was home in Delaware - the original cause for the visit being a bridal shower - but the weekend slowly enveloped into several visit with friends, good home-cooked dinners, and to my gleeful surprise, a visit to a local craft brewery in Greenville, Delaware. The spot was called Twin Lakes Brewery; the estate itself is little more than an old colonial house, a barn, and well, twin lakes. But right off the bat you could tell that this was a place full of life and growth - most notably so by the construction workers who were hammering and drilling on a structure adjacent to the bar, which we learned later would house a canning assembly line and outside fermentation tanks.
The first stop was the "tasting" room in the top level of the bar - comprised of an arrangement of worn-in, classic couches, fringy quilts, patterned pillows, a fireplace, and a bar - with two taps. That bar was serving two beers, the first being their signature beer - Greenville Pale Ale - which had a crisp, clean taste that was both refreshing and original. It paid the bills, our first guide explained. The second, a Stout, was deep and rich in color but surprising light on the palette, especially mine which was unaccustomed to dark beers.
Just as we were all beginning to question when the tour might start, it did. After searching for a spot to escape the noise of the construction, the CEO of Twin Lakes, Sam Hobbs, settled on narrow greenway between the pasture which housed the estate horse, Delicious, and the barn. Sam, who sported a Zermatt sweatshirt and sneakers, had quite a few things to say about filtered water vs. unfiltered water, and he shared with us bits of information about the landscape and the history of the Brandywine area. For example, the twin lakes on property were the site of Joe Biden's first date. He explained the brands of beer in the Twin Lakes arsenal, and the fact that all of these beers are made to be drinkable. He himself drinks his first beer in 6 seconds, and then slows down a bit on his second, third, fourth...
We ventured inside the barn to witness the manufacturing process and observe silent ongoings in the hermetically sound tanks and canisters. Yeast CO2 bubbled cheerfully from a pipe into a bucket of water. Happy Yeast it was. I was completely charmed by the human quality of this place. It was quirky; it ran with a improvisational feel. We chomped on barley and rubbed hops into our hands to smell the aromas, all the while sipping stout from a growler the brewer carried along with us. Someone took my cup, but I didn't care. By the end, albeit a stranger or a friend, we were all beer drinkers, and we'd get our fill of original, drinkable beer.
We settled back into the tasting room for a few more samples, and lingered until well after last call. We settled our checks and took along with us a few pint glasses and t-shirts, signs of a well-to-do experience. Fresh. Local. Delicious.
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