Unplugged in Mayacama



I blow through San Francisco this morning yet still manage to pick up a Prada sweater and JPG tank at Saks.


There’s not a lot of traffic in the store as I think buyers are still waiting for the next round of markdowns. Because we are short on time, I only get to cover a couple of floors and do not make it to their shoe department. I am not a fan of drive-by shopping–I’m efficient and don’t loiter (much) but shopping on borrowed time interferes with my shopping mojo!– so I may have to finagle another jaunt to Union Square on our way back to LA in a few days.  For now, we’re leaving SF behind…


and crossing the magnificent Golden Gate Bridge to reach the other side:


Even on a misty day, which in my opinion is a very dramatic way to see this city, there are plenty of tourists walking the bridge:


The view of Sausalito unfolding just beyond the bridge over the water is a breathtaking one, but on this foggy day I can’t get any clear photos to show you. The rest of the drive is green albeit ho-hum until we get closer to the resort. At that point, we drive through Santa Rosa on narrow, winding two-lane roads all the way to the private 675-acre golf retreat at Mayacama (www.mayacama.com) .


We go through two front gates,


and at the latter we are greeted warmly by an older gentleman who has been expecting us.  He has the smile of someone who clearly loves working in paradise.  The minute we go through his gate, however, my BlackBerry’s signal shuts off.  Both phone and data services are lost! I repeat. Both phone and data services are lost!  I am unplugged in Mayacama. I see deer and rabbits scurrying away as we drive up the hill toward the main lodge where we need to check in, and for a long second I almost want to scurry down the hill myself and run back outside the gate:



But I had committed to paradise, so paradise it is…it’s just that…I always thought there would be wifi in paradise.  Anyway, as soon as we’re all checked in, I have only ten minutes to rush from my casita:


back to the main area for my spa appointment:


At least the concierge assures me that there is internet connection back at my room, even if she says she knows that I won’t have a need for it. I laugh hysterically inside my head but with a straight face tell her she’s right. 

It’s a good thing every casita comes with a golf cart for easy transportation when you are in a rush to get somewhere, like to a tee time if you’ve overslept.  Though this strikes me as odd because as soon as I get here, I have a feeling time has stopped.  So you really can’t be late to anything, and it’s illegal to even feel rushed here. Even the wind is blowing differently, motionlessly.


Two and a half hours later, following a deep-tissue massage and grape seed facial (well, we are in wine country), I amble back to my casita, feeling like a revived yet overcooked noodle. The sun is high above my head and only when I get to my door do I realize that I had left the golf cart back at the lodge.  See, my old city self would have mumbled an expletive and rushed back to fetch it, but the newly converted me doesn’t really care at this point.  I could have just fallen down right in the middle of the road and taken a nap–that’s how relaxing the spa services were and  how safe I feel out here in the middle of nowhere. I am practically all alone  in my own private sanctuary at this moment because everyone is either on the golf course or is a staff member patrolling the grounds. I’m the lone city girl who doesn’t get golf and doesn’t yet know the extent of how cut off she’s soon about to become.


Tomorrow I will give you a tour of Mayacama.  For now, there’s a huge bubble bath with my name on it. Plus I want to see what’s inside my welcome gift basket.


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