Relaxation Station

Having been covered in layers of sweat, DEET and sunscreen for far too long, Kelly and I were eager to visit Ko Pha Ngan's Cocohut Resort Spa for some pampering. We paid a whopping $40 for the 3-hour "Top to Toe" package, which would easily cost hundreds of dollars in the US. I thought we'd spend the morning engaged in girl talk, but we were escorted to separate rooms upon arrival. Perhaps the story would have been different had we selected the "Romance" or (my personal fave) the "Ever Lovers" package.

First on the agenda was a tropical fruit body wrap. Basically, your body is slathered in a fruit smoothie and you're tightly wrapped in cellophane. It feels like you're a lovingly swaddled infant or a death-wrapped mummy. Take your pick. Then you're left to marinate in the juices and breathe in the sugary sweetness for a while. Kind of weird.

The always weird dressing/undressing process was further complicated by a language barrier. I've encountered paper underwear before but never the full-on granny panty version. Anyone? I attribute this to the Thai modesty. (They are wearing pants and sleeves in the sweltering heat and often swim fully clothed.) After bursting forth from the cellophane cocoon, this beautiful butterfly was directed to the showers to rinse off the berry bits. Dilemma: do you wear the paper underwear in the shower? Since the woman remained in the room with me, I decided the answer was yes. It soon became clear that the correct answer is NO. They are made of paper, after all. Sometimes I'm too uptight for my own good. Now that I had a clear view of the chunky "fruit wrap," I thought it looked a little like vomit. I had to remind myself that I was at a soothing seaside spa, not a frat party.

The fruit wrap was followed by a massage. This involved moving rooms and transitioning from the disintegrated paper underwear to a robe to a sarong/sheet. The woman tried to help me, but the process was very awkward. I wasn't quite sure who was supposed to take off this, or put on that, or touch what... it was like a bad first date. Once that business was settled, the massage itself was very enjoyable.

Back in the comfort of my own clothes, I joined Kelly on the balcony for a manicure and pedicure. I was a little nervous about the Thai hygiene standards, but I figure a resort spa is safer than a back alley nail salon. I don't want a Paula Abdul situation on my hands (or feet!). If I remember correctly, she blames all her troubles on a botched manicure. Dirty tools led to an infection, which led to an addition to painkillers, which led to an inability to speak in coherent complete sentences. Straight up!

I don't think this spa does too many mani/pedis because it took forever and the results aren't spectacular. Kelly's technician was so slow that mine had to lend a helping hand. As I waited patiently for Kelly to finish, the receptionist asked if I was hungry. I answered, "a little bit." Clearly, that was polite code for "I'm starving!" I suppose the woman asked out of plain curiosity because, to my great dismay, no snacks were delivered. I didn't appreciate the teasing.

When Kelly's nails finally dried an unfortunate shade of beauty queen iridescent pink, our morning of relaxation ended and we began our afternoon work: eating a delicious Thai lunch, floating in the pool, and reading in the sun.