Belgium is famous for beer, chocolate, tapestry, and lace, but few people know it is home of the city that inspired the generic term "spa." The city of Spa in the Ardennes is the home of thermal springs that fed an industry of restorative baths, saunas, and relaxing beauty and body treatments.

Yesterday, in a bid to loosen our tight shoulders and unclench our muscles, we headed to the mountains. The drive was longer than I expected. It took us about an hour and a half to get there from Brussels, but this part of Belgium is a world away from the flatlands where I live. The geography reminded me of my childhood home in the Shenandoah Valley of Virginia, and the landscape was covered with a light dusting of snow that highlighted every tree branch, rooftop, hill, and steeple. It was so pure and so beautiful and transported me to a happy time in my past.

The spa we visited is perched on a hilltop overlooking the city, and offers dramatic views of the valley below and the woods  that surround it. We skipped beauty services (known as "cures") and opted to just enjoy the pool and baths.  The pool, heated to a very warm temperature, also has a whirlpool attached, Jacuzzi-style jets in certain sections, and a "river" exit that takes you outside onto the terrace and into outdoor pools where the water remains warm but the air is winter brisk.

There are lounge chairs, heat lamps to dry under, massage chairs, and a cafe, all under an enormous atrium dome that pulls your spirit upward with stunning skyscapes. I parked my lower back in front of a jet in the pool and just leaned back and admired the line art of the bare tree branches against the everchanging sky--blue gray to heather to pearl white to blue. While the facilities were very nice, it was the setting that really sold me on the experience and helped recharge my batteries and unknot my tense muscles.

I was surprised it wasn't more crowded, considering it was a Saturday. There were people ranging in age from their 20s to their 60s. Lots of couples. Some of them quite enthralled with each other. Sigh.

I really feel old (and cynical) when I realize how annoyed I get when people exchange long tender kisses or gaze passionately into one another's eyes in public. It makes me feel like a bitter middle-aged troll who may be loved but will never be an object of adoration again. Except in my cat's eyes. Thank God for Pete who signals his deep joy and contentment with my presence by purring and stretching his sleek glossy paws out to touch my face. He channels a lot of adoration and sleeps curled against me every night. I ought to buy him a Valentine.

We came back from Spa relaxed and content, but last night E-Grrrl began running a 103 degree fever and came downstairs late at night while I was making art. I sat with her from midnight until 2 a.m., worried at how sick she was, concerned about the headache that was accompanying the fever. When I finally went to bed, I couldn't sleep--meningitis anxiety bubbling up from time to time, drawing me back to her bedside.

Today her fever and aches remain but the headache is gone. I've got a cough, and my son A was complaining of a sore throat this morning. E has to travel this week and has his fingers crossed that health and wellness will be his companion.

So this afternoon I'll be busy making a pot of chicken soup, with extra garlic, hoping for the best....

February 3, 2008