This weekend past I felt the need to get away; I had been ill, had a family loss and the work had piled up. Not being able to take a lot of time away, I decided to take as big as break as I could in twenty-four hours.

My search for some peace came by way of a three hour drive north to Vancouver, where I checked in early in the morning at the fabulous (and secret) boutique hotel, The Wedgewood. Its charm and luxurious feel greeted me as I entered the lobby. I was quickly whisked away to their terribly sweet (and small) spa where, for an hour I received a Lavender Bliss Body scrub and massage. That took the bit out of me and allowed me to relax for my next treat � afternoon tea.

For two hours I sat and dined in a cosy and elegant restaurant that had those tall, half circle purple velvet couches that you see in glamorous old movies. The tea was beyond amazing; each cup being brewed in your own private glass tea press, allowing you to choose multiple teas at will. The tea sandwiches, baked goods and jams accompanied by the most amazing conversations with my husband and the hotel director had me relaxing and forgetting everything that had been going on around me the past few months. I was in my own world.

Afterwards, I visited my best-friend Emily and her husband, spending another couple of hours eating, talking and laughing. It felt so good to be with dear friends that when I returned to the hotel that night, I almost didn�t need to take a bath but I did (one should always take a Jacuzzi bath at midnight if one can). The next morning I checked out of the hotel to meet two more fabulous women for coffee; the politically amazing and vibrant Lauren of the Soapbox Girls and the beautiful and charming Lori of Lori Joy Smith Designs. Again I chatted for a couple of hours which gave me enough of a rush and energy to drive back to Seattle where I arrived home happy, exhausted, and content. I had managed to give myself 24-hours of self-indulgence and not once did I feel guilty or worry about anything else. It was perfect and I didn�t want that feeling to go away, even though I have a lot of work to do and I�ve no idea when my next block of time off will be.

So what I did was purchase some very fine teas that I had at the Wedgewood along with a special 2-cup tea press just for me. This helps me feel a little pampered at home as it makes me slow down for a half-hour each day and creates a feeling of a little luxury, reminding me of that fabulous afternoon. Yes, the tea by some standards is expensive but seeing the beautiful tins (the presentation is amazing, especially in their assortment bags) stacked in my cupboard, smelling the beautiful scent of the Pear Green Tea, taking the time to brew it and then sip it in my nook whilst watching the storm outside, well, this is my daily indulgence, and everyone should have one of those.

I realised that I can�t always take 24 hours off nor can I always indulge in a day at the spa and tea. But I can take little moments, good moments, and hope they can carry me over until the next time I can.

A little story with photos of my trip to France.

From the web site, I understood it was a first class hotel and would be something unusual but I wouldn’t realise how truly amazing it was until this morning.

La Cour des Loges is situated in the old part of Lyon (2 hours SW by high speed train from Paris). We arrived in Lyon about 21:00 and thought finding the hotel should be easy enough, especially since maps are Chris’ life and I always get feelings about direction. Yet, we wouldn’t arrive at the hotel until 23:00, despite the hotel being only 1/2hr from the train depot/car rental.

Part of the problem is that the hotel is located in a walking-only district which isn’t mentioned on their map or information. We circled the area below the hotel, looking for access to it. Finally I got out and decided to ask someone for help and saw a man who looked friendly enough.

“Pardon, monsieur, mais ou est La Cour des Loges?” I asked, pointing to my map. He told me he would take me there and asked me where I was from. I told him and he told me he was from Ireland, teaching in Lyon for the year.

“Teaching seems to be the way to get into France,”

“Yeah, and into their pubs,” he said. Ah, a true Irishman.

An easy walk and we were at the hotel, checking in, handing the keys to the car to the bellman who would tuck it away somewhere in the village. We were shown to our room, built in the 14th century but updated with extreme luxury.

Entering I was instantly relaxed; heavy old beamed ceiling and floor, large windows covered by heavy fabrics, a large bathroom with tub and separate WC. Low lighting and an impressive fruit plate of figs, dates, apricots and other delectable were waiting to be eaten. They’d have to wait until morning because with a full day of travel, we were asleep within minutes.

This morning I met with the Director of the hotel who explained that the hotel was actually four old mansions dating from the 14th to 16th centuries. They were once private homes to some of Lyon’s top families and then turned into shops and then in the 80′s, into a hotel. The four homes were connected over a period of four years and were recently remodelled to bring back the beauty and relaxation of the renaissance. It was the most impressive hotel, comfortable, elegant and well located, but our favourite part of the hotel was Gerard.

He introduced himself to me quickly and did something very unFrench – he gave me his name and card right away. He was Head Concierge, at my service to help me enjoy Lyon.

At first we were all polite with one another, which is the French way of meeting but once some kind of relationship was established, we gossiped like old women. He told us secret places to go, always saying, “Don’t print this!” and I would vow to never reveal his secrets. His ten minute meeting turned into a 40 minute conversation about Lyon, the French and the world (in that order).

Thanking him, we headed out on a beautiful sunny, warm day to explore Lyon a little before having to drive to Provence.

I’ve flown a lot of airlines in my day but I only fly British Airways when going between Europe and Canada/America. Oh, there are often faster and cheaper ways of flying but I’ve remained loyal and this trip reminds me why.

Two years ago when I last flew, there was the standard one screen on the plane which always left me not being able to see the picture; often I didn’t even want to see the picture. But now BA has introduced small video screens on the back of each seat where you control what you watch (17 programs in World Traveller, 47 programs in First Class). This allowed me to catch up on some movies (School of Rock, rocked!) and also allowed me some sleep (the individual sets don’t interfere with your own lighting).

Also, the flights tend not to run full, ever, and so we had a row of 4 seats to ourselves which allowed me to lie down and sleep. I noticed on this trip, however, the tea was served in plastic tea cups and before they’d always been real. Ah well, plane tea is never fabulous in any event.

I’m currently waiting at Heathrow for a transfer to Paris; Heathrow is still a crap airport but at least there is now a Prêt a Manger (in terminal 4) which makes great, fresh, and fabulous sandwiches and drinks that are relatively inexpensive.

It’s a long travel day; already 10 hours with another 6 to go. Thank goodness I’ll be staying at a top hotel in Lyon tonight. I’ll need it to steady the jet lag.

Au Revoir until March, when I return a little more bulbous in the belly (from eating far too much), a little more relaxed, and a little bit older.

It’s just after midnight and I am sitting in a robe and slippers in a top level suite on the “Club Level” at the Ritz Carlton San Francisco. The room is over 900 square feet with a private bedroom and sitting area as well as two washrooms. Because I’m on the Club Level, I have access to a private lounge which is just for eighth and nineth floor guests; this means we get free wine, food, chocolate as well as continuous ass kissing.

When I was first told of the room that I would have my first instinct was to gather friends to come over to it – not to show off, but to share. Although some of the most wonderful experiences I’ve ever had have been on my own, there is something said about dividing your happiness with someone else. Tonight, I did just that.

Rock star Andrea, her dreamy man Matt and their friend Judd came by to celebrate my score at the Ritz. What I had is far too much and having extra people helped to make it feel wonderful instead of overwhelming.

We hit the private lounge where we sipped good wine, indulged in chocolate treats and talked of how flies hold the meaning of life. It was a good night.

After all the dishing and drinking we headed out to see a Andrea’s friends band, Above the Orange Trees, perform and then headed back to the hotel to unwind. There, I took my private time to slip into the bath (complete with salts and rose petals), read good magazines and eat more chocolate. (Yes, there has been a lot of partaking in chocolate but it gets worse – I am about to order cheesecake.)

Indulging is a wonderful thing but I believe it has to be balanced and to be balanced it has to be shared once in awhile. There are moments that are grand because you alone witness them and moments that are grand because others witness them with you. I think this is important to remember.

Coming home, I thought of all the moments I had on my trip. I realised that life is just that – moments. It can’t be defined by weeks, days or even hours. It’s all about the moments.

For me, I had beautiful moments such as the one where I opened up the door to my suite at the Banff Springs and realised what makes a room $1,500 and felt completely spoiled that I was paying less than 10% because of what I do. I had a special moment at 3am when I woke up and saw the glow of the fire play on the ceiling while I snuggled in the quilt with a smile.

I had exhilarating moments such as riding my horse through the mountains, only to be charged by a 4-pointer bull elk near the end of my ride. Following that was a moment of feeling unusually calm and collected as I realised what was going on and soaked it in, and then turned my horse around and ran off while watching the bull elk chase me from behind. After that was a moment of relief as I realised what could have happened and then a moment of just feeling completely cheeky because it didn’t.

I also had crap moments such as checking into a hotel and being told I was staying in a fantastic suite. The anticipation of seeing some fabulous room was built up until I opened the door to a bad looking 70’s style porn room that was smoking. However, that was followed-up by a good moment when I went outside into the mountains and hiked amongst the changing trees and had a deer come up to me and lick my hand.

There were moments when I just was. They were the ones where I sat down by the river and listened to it pass me by, when I ate cheesecake in my bathrobe as the fire roared, when I looked at my old flat and remembered myself at 22 and when I put my head on his shoulder as we both just drifted off to sleep.

When people ask me how my trip was, I can only tell them about it in moments. No two were ever the same, and none of them lasted very long.

Having my life made up of moments – both good and bad – makes my life work. It makes me able to smile more than wallow on the floor in a heap and get over shite moments because I know how quickly a good one can follow. And they do.