Like many people, I suffer from back problems, coupled with various other physical symptoms of spending too many hours on a keyboard. As a consequence, my muscular aches and pains are murder and I am always looking for some kind of miracle cure... I heard that the so-called 'muscle whisperer' Rohan Quarry Day was holding court at the COMO Shambhala Urban Retreat at the Metropolitan Hotel on Park Lane in London for the next two months, so I had to book a session.
When I think of Crete I think of warmth. Not the perennial warm climate, nor the clear warm waters of the Aegean Sea, but the warmth of its people. Cretans are known for their genuine kindness, loyalty and hospitality, their Greek filoxenia (love of strangers). Mind you, I guess you would be pretty happy when you reside somewhere of such beauty.
I have a strange relationship with my stomach. It's a bit like the one I had with my first boyfriend - I really love it, but I treat it mean. Since hitting 30, it's being mean back. I've noticed a circle of flesh around my belly button that feels like a doughnut - come to think of it, it may be a doughnut.
My name is Jody, and I am a massage addict. I have had lovely ones in Los Angeles, muscle-busters in Byron Bay, Arab-flavoured joy in Jordan, inspiring rejuvenation in Israel and the utterly blissful in Barbados. I have been pummeled in St Petersburgh and un-kricked in Kuala Lumpur in my endless quest to find the perfect treatment.
Right on cue, just in time for the renowned festivities of Wenceslas Square, snow has fallen on the Golden City. As we stroll across Charles Bridge, carols echo down from the tower. White-tipped Baroque buildings and a twinkle of Christmas lights create the backdrop. Hot wine and chestnuts fill the hole.