Matador Network's Blog, page 2228

Why NOT to wait until you retire

Photo: Drew Herron

THE OLDER YOU GET, the more you tend to talk about retirement and finally being able to do the things you love. I was more fortunate than most of my friends. A few years before I retired, I starting doing what I thought I loved: sailing and living on a boat. My entire adult life had been spent with that dream, but I never was able to determine if it was simply an amusement or something I would be truly passionate about. It turned out to be an amusement.

Here are eight reasons you need to do what you love now.

1. It can take time to find your passion.

To discover what you really love can take time and lots of different experiences. I’ve lost count of the activities I’ve tried and then found weren’t what I expected. It can take years to pinpoint that one special thing. The sooner you start, the sooner you’ll make the discovery.

2. A little is better than nothing.

Doing what you love part time is better then waiting 30 or 40 years to be able to work at it full time. You have the time if you make the time.

Every week, I would schedule time for the things I loved to do as I would a business meeting. Work, family, and a hundred other things will get in the way but, if you love doing something, you’ll make the time for it.

3. You can evolve with the inevitable changes.

There is no field or creative endeavor that’s not affected by changes in technology or style. Waiting until you retire to pursue your passion could render that passion unrecognizable. When I started in photography, the only option was film. By the time I retired, everything was completely different.

4. You need time to build your community.

Many endeavors require community for true success and accomplishment. Most things creative are learned from and appreciated by those around you. For years prior to my retirement, I would schedule a photography workshop every year. The workshop environment was invaluable. Waiting until you retire will deprive you of all of that rich knowledge and experience.

5. You’ll likely have a fixed income when you retire.

Many passions require equipment, and equipment requires money (or a rich relative). Waiting until you retire will put you into that sparse world of the fixed income. Start now; what’s the use of doing something you love if you can’t spend money on it?

6. Face it, your body won’t be the same as it is now.

Getting older is not for the faint of heart, believe me. The sad fact is you just can’t do some of the physical things at 60-something that you could at 20-something. Fitness goes a long way, but there’s no cure for aging. If you wait, the only thing you’ll get out of it is older.

7. You can start acquiring knowledge now.

Everything we do requires learning to one extent or another. When learning about something you love, that learning is at the core of the experience. Don’t deprive yourself of the experience, or the wonders of discovery, by waiting until you retire.

8. Avoid sudden and drastic change.

Most people are uncomfortable with change. Change is more easily mastered when presented slowly over a period of time. When I retired, a major part of my life changed. The transition was made simpler because I was already doing the things I loved prior to retirement. Ease yourself into a lifestyle change.

9 ways to kill time in an airport

Getting stuck overnight in an airport is the worst. The chairs are specifically designed to make sleeping impossible, and they still don’t turn off the goddamn announcements about never leaving your bags alone, even in the middle of the night when there are only two people in the terminal.

Fortunately, though, video has given us the ability to entertain people from all over the world after our awful airline debacles. It started with Richard Dunn, the man who recreated Celine Dion’s “All By Myself” video in the Las Vegas airport overnight, and now it’s been expanded on by Ben Borrello and Zach Searce, who have discovered nine new ways to entertain yourself when you’re trapped in an airport overnight. Enjoy.

Palawan from the air [vid]

WHEN YOU’RE SITTING AT WORK and daydreaming about a secret island paradise, tucked away from the world, calm lagoons and pristine beaches, you might be picturing Palawan. This remote province of the Philippines is located in the southwest of the country, between the South China and Sulu Seas. Its 1,200 miles of coastline is punctuated with rocky coves, deserted islets, and white-sand beaches.

Matador invites you to take an aerial journey around this special place and enjoy a view that, until recently, was only for the birds. This entire film was shot on a DJI Phantom 2, equipped with the H3-3D gimbal along with a GoPro Hero 3+.

Special thanks to Taophilippines.com for the epic journey.

Confessions of a future yoga teacher

Photo: Lulu Lovering

1. A lot of “yogis” annoy the shit out of me.

When a white guy in a dress shows up and he’s legally changed his name to “Krishna,” there is absolutely no way I am going to take him seriously.

2. Sanskrit trips me up.

I love learning Sanskrit. The words and phrases flow beautifully off the tongue in soft, rounded tones. But let’s be honest, when it comes time for me to teach a class, the phrase “awkward chair pose” is a lot more relatable to students than “utkatasana.”

3. I do not want to hear another Michael Franti song.

Mike, I understand. You “want to go where the summer never ends.” What a super breakthrough realization about yourself. “Everyone deserves music.” Again, totally with you. Really, really original stuff here.

But seriously, for the love of God, I do not want to hear another fucking song about how great sunshine is. I feel like I’m trapped at a New-Age sex party on Long Island and I don’t have a ride home.

4. The cost does not compute for me.

When a pair of flammable, skintight stretch pants costs 80 bucks and a 72”x24” piece of rubber costs 120, yoga starts to get just as elitist as downhill skiing.

5. I will never be a vegetarian.

I raise chickens. I hail from a family of hunters. I grow my own vegetables. I know how gross hot dogs are. I am not ignorant to the horror of factory farming. But sometimes after a weekend-long intensive of Vinyasa Flow, I want to eat a burger with three different animal products on it and I don’t want to watch you cry about it.

6. Group meditation is a difficult but interesting experience.

People are going to breathe loudly and it’s going to be obnoxious. Your ass is going to feel like you entertained a sexual act with a hedgehog. For the most part, though, meditation is pretty cool.

I found that after a while, my thoughts were moving further and further away, like they were at the end of a deep tunnel and my mind was free to just be blank. (I wasn’t on acid, I swear.)

7. Newsflash: Lululemon is an absolutely terrible company.

Maybe all the world’s Escalade-driving hockey moms should find another source for their $200 see-through leggings.

8. Yoga is no less “yogic” with an upbeat playlist.

Some people do yoga to relax. Some people do yoga to break a sweat and bust a serious move to Tina Tuner’s “Simply the Best.” Neither form is superior to the other. So please, all you “traditional yogis,” un-clutch your prayer beads.

9. Sometimes it’s extremely difficult for me to get in the zen zone.

I might show up to practice, but I might also be planning what I’m going to sing at karaoke the whole time.

10. Chanting is actually pretty fun.

I was a little nervous to participate at first, but chanting and singing in unison with a room full of strangers turned out to be an uplifting and not at all cult-like experience.

11. All I want is to be a relatable and educated yoga teacher.

When I go to a class, I hope for a teacher who is personable and real, someone who winces during chair pose and falls sometimes during dancer. I don’t want to learn from perfection. I hope that my future students don’t want to either.

Funny British phrases explained

I’ve lived in Britain as an American, and probably the most-common topic of conversation to naturally slip into with a Brit was the English language. Is “herb” pronounced with the “h” or without? Is it aluminum or aluminium? What did I mean by “I’m pissed?”

Eventually the conversation gets stale, because at some point you’ve talked way too much about the way you talk. But, on a rare occasion, there’s a small British idiom or slang word that’s so patently ludicrous you can’t help but be filled with a warm little ball of delight.

For example, I’ve never once understood why “Bob’s your uncle” basically means “and there you are.” I don’t have an uncle named Bob, and it’s a weird way to cap off a short list of instructions or directions. But it’s so charmingly weird that I couldn’t help but giggle whenever it was said to me.

If you plan on going to Great Britain anytime soon (or simply love linguistic quirks), check out this video by Siobhan Thompson of Anglophenia. It runs through a list of phrases you’ve probably never heard of, and gives you their often incredibly strange, roundabout origins.

10 things first-timers do in Paris

Photo: Gweneal Piaser

1. Huddling around Da Vinci’s Mona Lisa

Your everyday tourist knows little more of the Musée du Louvre than the fact that it houses Leonardo da Vinci’s Mona Lisa. For that very reason, a swarm of tourists can be found buzzing around the masterpiece every minute the museum is open to the public.

The painting measures approximately 30” by 21” — not so epic in scale in comparison to the other work displayed in the Louvre. Unfortunately, many tourists who have seen the painting firsthand will tell you it wasn’t as magnificent as expected.

2. Roaming around the Notre-Dame Cathedral

One of the most famous churches on the planet, the Notre-Dame Cathedral attracts more tourists than the Eiffel Tower. And for good reason — the cathedral’s stained glass windows are some of the most impressive in existence. The South Rose Window, in particular, should be given special attention.

While many tourists will tell you to avoid specific landmarks, few will tell you to skip the Notre-Dame Cathedral, despite the crowds.

3. Upsetting a Parisian by speaking in English

If you’ve been to Paris and didn’t speak un petit peu de Français at the time, you may have started a conversation with a local in English. It probably didn’t go so well. Understandably, an exorbitant number of Parisians dislike being expected to speak in a different tongue off the bat. Well, “dislike” might be an understatement.

4. Butchering the French language after said incident

Every first-time tourist who’s experienced #3 above has likely made it a point to learn a few French phrases to avoid the potential awkwardness again. Such terms include “Bonjour!” and “Parlez-vous Anglais?” among others. Lucky for said first-time tourist, Parisians hate hearing their language butchered far more than they dislike speaking English. The conversation always falls back to English at the drop of a hat.

5. Waiting ages to scale the Eiffel Tower

Okay, so if you visit Paris, it’s your duty to see the Eiffel Tower. Potentially wait up to four hours (yes, four) in line in order to take an elevator to the observation deck of the Eiffel Tower? Not so much.

No matter the length of the line, millions of tourists brave the crowds and make the journey upwards. Visitors in the know often take the stairs to the “second floor” and jump on the elevator from there. A quick heads up: You’ll be climbing 670 steps to arrive at the second floor.

6. Walking the entirety of the Champs-Élysées

A quick stroll on the Champs-Élysées is an enjoyable experience, but there’s no need to walk the street in its entirety. First-time tourists may expect to see something different after the first several minutes of walking. Driven by this anticipation of seeing something novel, they forge on. Surprise! Same old: automobile showrooms, luxury goods boutiques, and overpriced cafés.

Considering the street is one of the most expensive pieces of real estate on Earth, it’s no wonder everything is overpriced. Someone has to pay the rent.

7. Taking a boat tour on the Seine

There’s nothing wrong with taking a “river cruise” on the Seine. Simply put, it’s rather common. There are more off-the-beaten-path boat voyages one can enjoy, but the Seine’s tours are the most popular. They don’t look like anything special from the streets that line the river, but the views from the water provide a unique perspective on the city.

Yes, many first-time tourists do this. No, there’s no valid reason not to.

8. Eating a pain au chocolat on Any Street, Paris

Commonly sold in bakeries and supermarkets all over the city, a pain au chocolat is a morsel of heaven composed of a (viennoiserie) sweet roll with dark chocolate inside. Every tourist looking to experience a slice of Paris goes for a pain au chocolate, croissant, or a crepe. The decision to enjoy all three over the duration of a trip is an advisable one. Always. Bonus points if you can take down all three in one sitting.

9. Unnecessarily taking a cab ride or two

For those with little to no knowledge of Paris, cabs may seem like a great option. “It’s a city! People in cities take taxis!” Parisians, on the other hand, favor the public transportation system. After one too many expensive cab rides (which should end at one), a tourist should too.

The metro, bus, and RER are more than adequate for locals and tourists alike — they’re easy to use, affordable, and reliable.

10. Experiencing sticker shock at the price of food

A first-time tourist might be rather hungry upon arrival and decide to eat fries and hot dogs at the kiosk across from the Eiffel Tower. Twenty-plus euros for two orders of fries and two hot dogs shouldn’t be the norm.

Unfortunately, pastries and coffee might give a first-time tourist sticker shock as well. So will the random banh mis you’ll come across. Well, most perishable items will. That’s okay — it won’t seem as bad the second time around.

A 4,000-mile Arctic journey

In a break between thunderstorms, Patrick Farrell paddles the Wind River of the northern Yukon Territory. All photos: Patrick Farrell

This piece originally appeared at Sidetracked and is republished here with permission. For more amazing adventure travel stories, visit Sidetracked Adventure Travel Magazine.

In 2012, Caroline Van Hemert and Patrick Farrell traveled from Bellingham, Washington to Kotzebue, Alaska — a distance of nearly 4,000 miles — by rowboat, ski, packraft, foot, and canoe. This extraordinary journey followed a road-less, trail-less route through some of the most spectacular wild landscapes in North America. Along the way, Caroline and Patrick rowed the length of the Inside Passage, crossed the Coast Mountains on skis, hiked and packrafted the length of the Yukon Territory, paddled among icebergs of the Arctic Ocean, and traversed the Brooks Range. All in six months and all under human power.

It’s 3am on July 10th and we have just landed our packrafts on the shore of the Arctic Ocean. In this land of 24-hour light, our internal body clocks seem to be following the rhythm of another planet. With no obvious variation in the angle of the sun, just a steady circling of the horizon, each day stretches longer than the last. We lose ourselves in the steady motion of footfall on sand or are hypnotized by the shape-shifting horizon. We feel pushed to keep moving, long past our conventional dinnertime and bedtime, dancing to the whims of the north.

We started our day 16 hours ago, though it feels like an entire week has passed. Today marked the end of a hellish slog through the Mackenzie Delta. We paddled through this brush-covered maze of sloughs and channels for nearly two weeks, fighting a headwind, mosquitoes, and our own waning sanity. In a giant arctic wetland in mid-July, we quickly learned that mosquitoes rule. We slept, ate, and relieved ourselves at their mercy. They clouded our vision, peppered our food, and laid in wait at the bottom of our sleeping bags until we fell asleep. They found their way down our shirts and up our pants, bit through our shoes, and drowned out the sounds of birds and running water with their steady whine. To savor the moments of relief in the tent, we didn’t bother cooking our breakfast and ate cold, partially re-hydrated oatmeal and choked down floating granules of instant coffee.

Along the way, beaten down by the misery, we abandoned any pretense of willpower. We were driven by desperation, pure and simple.

At the northern edge of the continent, Caroline Van Hemert enjoys a quiet moment under the midnight sun.

This wasn’t what we had in mind when we set out in March 2012 to travel nearly 7,000 kilometers by human power. We knew that our schedule would be ambitious — in order to make it in six months from Puget Sound to Northwestern Alaska by rowboat, ski, packraft, and foot, all without roads or trails, we needed to average more than 35 kilometers a day. But to think that, after rowing the length of the Inside Passage, crossing several mountain ranges, and enduring months of much more physically demanding activities, a bunch of buzzing insects and sticky mud could drive us to the lowest point of our journey…. We knew the Mackenzie Delta would be trouble. But we didn’t see any way around it. As part of our larger goal, we needed to get from the northern Yukon Territory to the Arctic Ocean. The massive Mackenzie River offered the most logical, if not the most pleasant, passage. We’d learned by now that accomplishing our goal sometimes meant sucking it up and enduring. This was one of those times. It just went on a lot longer than we’d hoped.

Eventually the bushes of the delta gave way to grass flats and, anxious to stretch our legs, we hopscotched along the inviting strips of land — walking when we could, then jumping into our rafts to cross the dozens of remaining ponds and sloughs. We practiced this in-and-out routine for hours, passing a large flock of molting, flightless white-fronted geese whose movements resembled our own. Paddle, waddle, paddle, waddle, and repeat.

Patrick Farrell hikes through cottongrass tussocks on Hershel Island in the Canadian Arctic.

By early evening, we had stumbled onto the end of land, where a low sod bank folded unceremoniously into the silty water. We looked at each other in disbelief. Could this really be it? Though it lacked any semblance of glory, reaching the Arctic Ocean felt equivalent to summiting a Himalayan peak. For the first time in weeks, the coastal breeze kept the mosquitoes at bay. We could breathe without inhaling a cloud of swarming insects or the mesh of our headnets. We could see again. The sky opened into a million shades of blue.

We noticed a string of white dots on the horizon. As we neared, the specks became swans, floating serenely in the still water. I spun in place, scanning the horizon, and began to count. Ten, twenty, sixty swans scattered across the flats. At our feet, a carpet of neon green grass and tiny saxifrage flowers that opened their five pink petals to the sky. The despair of the past weeks began to dissipate. More than 200 miles north of the Arctic Circle, we had reached our reward — a coastal haven flush with life, backed by an enormous sky — and I remembered why we’d come.

So focused on the rich details of the foreground, I only accidentally noticed a rounded brown hump several hundred meters away. As I lifted my binoculars to scan for birds, I passed over a driftwood log shadowed by characteristic furriness. In the low-angle sun, I couldn’t be certain what I was seeing. But then the hump moved. The bear was close. And big. And suddenly lumbering toward us. In the slow-motion haze that accompanies the first moments of panic, we realized something beyond our view must have spooked the bear, not us. In fact, it didn’t even seem to register that we were there. In its mad dash, it had barely looked up. So we found ourselves at the receiving end of a 400-kilogram animal’s sprint for survival. Somehow, in the span of less than a minute, we had gone from admiring flowers to facing down a grizzly.

Thankfully, once the bear spotted us, it apparently decided that it was not running away from danger, but toward it. As we watched it heave its massive body across the tundra and far out of sight, we began to breathe again.

We didn’t have long to contemplate the encounter, as an explosion of jet-black clouds billowed towards us. Lightning flashed across the sky, and we jumped when a resounding crack of thunder followed. The storm loomed huge above us, wrestling for its stake of the boundless sky — and apparently winning. The first dime-sized drops of cold water slapped our cheeks. Whitecaps frothed on the ocean surface. We made a hasty decision and raced to set up the tent next to the shelter of the same enormous driftwood log near where we had spotted the bear. For two hours we hunkered down, listened to pounding rain, and pressed our palms against the tent walls to buffer the fierce gusts. And, then, just like the bear, as quickly as it had arrived, the storm broke. We poked our heads out of the vestibule to see a glorious fresh world. The grasses shimmered with beads of water, the last streaks of lightning shared the horizon with the sun and the moon, and the ocean’s surface had stilled completely.

A caribou trots across the Arctic Coastal Plain with the Brooks Range as a backdrop.

We crawled out of the tent, very ready for a meal. It was midnight and we hadn’t had anything to drink or eat for hours. Pat scouted for a place to make a fire as I dug a bag of pasta from my pack. I heard the surprise in his voice before he’d explained what he’d found. I walked over to where he was crouched and saw the object of his grumblings. A carcass, probably from a bearded seal, matted down in the tundra. There were fresh diggings all around it, the grass turned over, bits of decomposing flesh scattered about. We exchanged a glance. Darn. Time to pack up camp again. The bear that had nearly run into us earlier was likely feeding not on grass, as we had thought, but on this rotting carcass. Though the bear was nowhere to be seen, it could easily cover the same distance it had run, especially with an incentive like a smelly marine mammal.

So we packed up the tent, grabbed a quick snack, and inflated our rafts. I felt dazed as I squinted into the bright golden reflection of the midnight sun on the sea. Hungry and fatigued, the rhythmic motion of paddling lulled me into a near-stupor. But just after we rounded a small point, I happened upon another startling sight. Two large brown bodies materialized in front of us; even stranger, they appeared to be floating on the surface of the water more than a quarter mile offshore. I stared at the apparition, trying to avoid the brightest points of reflection that, even in the middle of the night, would blind me.

Between exaggerated blinks, the objects began to take shape. Broad chest, long nose, humped back and…antlers. Moose in the Arctic Ocean!

We worked our way around the wading moose, first trying the inside route near the shore and then backpedaling when they began to walk toward us. Being pursued by aggressive moose in the Beaufort Sea seemed like an unlikely hazard, but now, at the waning edge of a very strange day, we were willing to believe that anything might be possible. And it was. To our disbelief, the pair waded and then swam determinedly after us for nearly a mile. We managed to paddle hard and stay just ahead of their advances, growing increasingly wary as we looked over our shoulders at the antlers bobbing above the surface. Later, we decided that they were probably just curious — our presence was undoubtedly a much-rarer occurrence than theirs. But at the time, passing through a world that felt very unlike our own, we weren’t taking any chances.

The authors collect driftwood on a barrier island of the Arctic Ocean.

After surviving our first introduction to the Arctic coast, we are finally ready to call it a day. Dragging our boats behind us across the tundra, we search for signs of fresh water. I find a pool that looks promising, only a few floating insects among the slime, and I cup my hands for a drink. It tastes bad, but not brackish. At least I don’t think so. At this point, dehydrated and exhausted, we are willing to settle for just about anything. We drop our packs, hurriedly set up camp, and coerce a few muddy sticks into flame. Collapsing onto the moist ground, we devour a pot of smoke-flavored pasta and squint into the low-angle sun. Pat points out a glaucous gull perched on a driftwood log a few hundred feet away. He tells me it’s a giant satellite dish from one of the Cold War-era Distant Early Warning (DEW) Line sites. I look over to see if he’s joking. He’s not. Just about anywhere else in the world, I would be concerned by his response. But instead, I point out the now-airborne gull and laugh. This is the visual lie of the arctic. Nothing is ever as it appears.

As we lean back against a driftwood log in a landscape devoid of trees and gaze out at a sky curved under its own enormity, it seems entirely possible that we’ve reached the end of the earth.

13 luxurious California spas

The Auberge Spa at Calistoga Ranch (#10 below). Photo: Kent Goldman

NORTHERN AND CENTRAL CALIFORNIA have a lot to offer active travelers — beaches and bluffs on the Pacific Coast, mountain trails and hot springs around Yosemite, wineries and unparalleled agriculture through Napa and Sonoma Counties and the Sacramento Valley.

But for me, it’s important to be able to unwind after a day of hiking, cycling, or sightseeing — even wine tasting can take a toll on the body. The spa culture of Northern California and the Central Coast is perfect for those looking to experience the state beyond Hollywood’s glamor and the rest of Southern California’s already laid-back attitude. Here, you’ll find luxurious spas that will complement any trip to this part of the Golden State.

1. Sense® Spa at Rosewood CordeValle

Part of the Rosewood Hotels line, the Sense® Spa is set within local vineyards in the San Martin area, a short drive south of San Jose. Aestheticians incorporate natural elements of the surrounding environment into treatments, using the healing properties of grape seed oil in many of their specialties. The spa’s CordeValle Signature Raindrop Ritual is the best way to experience this, which has a grape seed body gel exfoliation and grape seed head massage.

2. The Spa at Hotel Healdsburg

The Spa specializes in “Farm to Spa” treatments sourced from the best of Sonoma County — Meyer lemon sage massages, wine and honey wraps, and stress relieving facials with ingredients from local farms. Staff members provide services that revolve around the needs of hotel guests and clients; there’s even a special Deep Relief massage for cyclists coming in after a day of exploring the wineries and other nearby attractions.

3. Spa at Auberge du Soleil

Travelers headed to Napa Valley’s wine country can get the full vino experience by adding a little Chardonnay or Cabernet into their spa treatments. This property provides services that use the healing benefits of wine and grape seed oil, and most packages come with a complimentary glass of wine from a nearby vineyard.

4. Spa at The Carneros Inn

Photo: Melissa Clark

This spa also draws from the natural offerings of its Napa Valley setting. Their Honey Bee Healthy massage uses a beeswax mask on the back, and local goat milk butter is a key ingredient in their Goat Milk Body Wrap. The spa is limited mainly to Carneros Inn guests, who also enjoy access to the eucalyptus steam room, sauna, and indoor and outdoor relaxation areas before and after treatments.

5. Spa at Farmhouse Inn

Decorated with reclaimed farm materials, this spa some 50 miles north of the Bay Area is open to guests of the Farmhouse Inn. Treatments include the use of ingredients and herbs grown onsite and at the Farmhouse Ranch, like locally harvested honey, ginger root, and cider apples.

6. SpaTerre at Bernardus

Located within the Bernardus Lodge and Spa property, just inland of Monterey, SpaTerre offers an extensive array of options that include Chardonnay pedicures, Lomilomi massage, and detox wraps. The spa specializes in therapuetic treatments from around the world, as evidenced by their list of global rituals and water wellness offerings; Turkish Hamam, Balinese massage, and Aqua Floatation therapy are all available.

7. The Spa at Pebble Beach

Water and natural minerals are huge components of what makes the Spa at Pebble Beach so luxurious. The highlight of this spa is its unique selection of floatation wraps; guests benefit from the healing properties of plants, herbs, and minerals indigenous to California’s Monterey Peninsula. The technique uses a dry flotation bed, where the body is wrapped in a waterproof sack of lotions, herbs, and antioxidants, then placed within a bed of warm water.

8. Roman Spa Hot Springs Resort

The Roman Spa Hot Springs Resort channels a European sense of luxury less than two hours from Sacramento. The spa’s mud baths use a combination of volcanic ash, peat, and geothermal mineral water from a local spring to moisturize and revitalize dry skin, which makes you feel “as if your body is suspended in a warm pillow of amazingness.” Mediterranean-inspired gardens and geothermal bathing pools are also available for guests to enjoy.

9. Spa Aiyana at Carmel Valley Ranch

Travelers will appreciate the oak forest and hiking trails that surround Spa Aiyana, located in the Carmel Valley. The site encourages guests to explore the grounds before unwinding with massages, facials, body polishes, and Intraceuticals Oxygen Infusions in private treatment rooms. The spa cultivates its herbs and other ingredients in gardens on the property.

10. The Auberge Spa at Calistoga Ranch

Photo: Steve Jurvetson

The rustic, outdoor architecture of The Auberge Spa, situated within the northernmost reaches of the Napa Valley, makes it feel even more secluded than spas elsewhere. Here, guests can experience the healing benefits of mineral springs with private, outdoor garden showers and soaking tubs. Couples especially are catered to, with treatment rooms that accommodate two people at a time, and an atmosphere that evokes sensuality. The spa also offers mind and body restoration classes, including yoga, lifestyle coaching, and guided hikes.

11. Ascent Spa at Tenaya Lodge

Inspired by the landscapes of Yosemite National Park, Ascent Spa provides travelers with a retreat from hiking, skiing, and the chaos that sometimes comes with family travel. With 12 treatment rooms, the needs of guests are exclusively handled, especially regarding how the dry mountain climate affects the body. The spa’s body experiences incorporate seasonal ingredients, and their Half Dome treatments are especially beneficial for active visitors.

12. The Spa at Sycamore Mineral Springs Resort

Travelers will get to experience the healing benefits of hot mineral springs at this spa, located further south in San Luis Obispo. The sulfur and other minerals produced naturally in the area are used in several spa experiences, including hydrotherapy, hillside hot tubs, and the site’s own oasis waterfall lagoon. Guests looking for an enhanced hydrotherapy experience can reserve a White Algae Facial, which uses algae, white tea, and copper peptides to even out and tone the skin of the face.

13. The Spa at Dolphin Bay

Set along Pismo Beach, The Spa at Dolphin Bay offers guests treatments that incorporate natural sea salts, local herbs and medicinal plants, and unique beachside services such as massages that overlook the ocean. Visitors are also encouraged to explore the spa facility, engage in yoga classes, and use the property’s infrared sauna therapy.

Our friends at Visit California asked Matador how we #dreambig in California. This post is part of a series we’re publishing to answer that question. Click here for more.

TSA doesn't know DC is part of US

Recently, a story was filed under the “Facepalms-hard-enough-to-cause-traumatic-brain-injuries” category: A Transportation Security Agency (TSA) agent in Orlando almost did not let a reporter on his flight because the reporter had a license that the TSA officer didn’t recognize — from the District of Columbia.

Americans with an elementary school education will remember that the District of Columbia, while not specifically a state, is the home of Washington, our nation’s capital, and is in fact the “DC” in “Washington, DC.”

For those of us who live in DC, this is a frustrating but not particularly new phenomenon. DC isn’t a state, so not only do we get taxed without representation in the nation’s Congress — literally the exact same reason the American Revolutionary War started — but we can also be legally denied booze in New Hampshire thanks to our “invalid” drivers licenses. Perhaps the worst crime of all.

The sad news here is that this isn’t unusual for TSA. The reporter who was stopped at the airport eventually did get through and spoke to a supervisor, and apparently this isn’t the first time it’s happened in Orlando. TSA won’t say how frequently it occurs, but they did try to stop another DC resident from boarding a flight in Phoenix just this February because DC is “not a state.”

So please, America. Let the District of Columbia become the state of Columbia. If for no other reasons than we don’t want to have to be sober in New Hampshire, and we never, for the love of God, want to be stranded in Orlando.

10 signs you’re an Australian country kid

Photo: Badjonni

1. You know exactly what roo shooting is.

It’s Saturday night and you’re dressed in your best farm clothes. You’ve got an esky full of beer and a Ute full of friends. The working dogs are tied to the back and the guns are loaded. Welcome to roo shooting, social highlight of the week.

2. You call everyone mate. Even if you hate them. Actually, you’re more likely to call someone mate if you’re arguing with them.

Your best friend is your mate. The guy who makes your coffee is your mate. The random chick in the bar is your mate. That stupid drongo that didn’t indicate at the roundabout is your mate. As in, “Nice bloody indicating, mate!”

3. You love country music, even if you’re ashamed to admit it.

Growing up in the country and listening to country music goes hand in hand. However, as you move away from home and into the big city, you hide your roots because country music is massively uncool.

You give your country music playlists code names, and your old CD of Garth Brooks is hidden deep in your drawers. The fact that you know the words to “Texas QLD 4385″ by Lee Kernaghan will never be exposed until you’re safely in the premises of your local pub.

4. You tell everyone you’re from Sydney, even if you’re nowhere near it.

Coming from a small country town in Northern NSW, I’ve made the error in assuming people know Australian geography well. Even mentioning my state of New South Wales results in blank looks. It’s way easier to tell people who haven’t been to Australia that I’m from Sydney than trying to explain I live an hour south of the Queensland border, about three hours inland, in a town with a population of 10,000 people.

5. You have at one stage in your life ridden a horse, tackled a chicken, or tried your hand at bull riding.

It might have been a small calf that didn’t even buck, but you still rode it like you were Lane Frost.

6. You think it’s rude if people walk past you without acknowledging you.

Us country kids are brought up to be polite and friendly. Growing up in a small town means you know everybody, and it’s polite to say “G’day” as you pass people on the street. A person walking with their head down and avoiding eye contact is seen as snobby, or worse — a city slicker.

7. It’s not unusual for you to see someone driving a tractor or riding a lawnmower down the main street.

Traffic jams are about as common as a new fast food joint opening up in town. The streets (which still have roundabouts — traffic lights are unheard of) are filled with dusty trucks, family cars, young guys in beat-up cars doing laps with music thumping from their jacked-up stereos, and the odd tractor.

A really spectacular show involves several tractors, a forklift, and a truck with several sheep caged in the back. Most likely with AC/DC cranked up on full.

8. And you’re used to there being only one main street.

Best part of growing up in a small town? There’s no chance of getting lost. Worst part of growing up in a small town? Moving to a big city means using a GPS just to find the next block. A small town main street is always a hive of activity. It serves as a social hotspot — it’s where to buy everything and where to stalk your high school crush while he does laps in his flash new Ute.

9. Your idea of a good night out is a pub meal and beers with mates at your local pub.

There’s nothing better than a juicy chicken parmigiana, drowned in gravy and sided with hot chips and a few lettuce leaves. Top that off with an ice cold beer and you’ve got yourself a gourmet dinner, country style.

Sink a couple more beers and have a chin wag with your neighbour. Stumble out at 2:30am because by small town law that’s when pubs have to shut. Talk shit with your mates on the street for a while before grabbing a lukewarm sausage roll from the 24-hour service station. End up crashing on your friend’s couch because you live 15 minutes out of town and you’re too drunk to drive. Solid night out.

10. No matter where in the world you go, your home will always be that little country town.

You could live in the most beautiful place on Earth, see the 7 Wonders of the World, and tick everything off your bucket list, but at the end of the day that little town you grew up in is the best thing you’ve ever had. And nothing beats driving home with the windows down, passing the main street and the odd tractor — because to you, that’s home.