Heidi's parents invited us to a salt cave experience this afternoon.
Touted for improving respiratory health, anti-inflammation, and general relaxation, we were surprised that Gary and Louise wanted to go, but we were definitely along for the ride. Upon entering the unassuming strip mall shop front, dim lights, soothing music, and pleasant incense met us. We had to sign a few waivers and acknowledge a page of rules and disclaimers, but even the paperwork was not really a buzz-kill. The place was welcoming in an artificial Disney sort of way, and staring at the heavy door guarding the entrance to the faux cave, I suggested an escape room for our next activity.
When three blissed-out people in their 70s floated out and proceeded to make follow-up appointments, I was definitely intrigued, and craning my neck to catch a glimpse inside, I was more than ready to take my foot-protected self right into the cave. Our turn came soon enough, and after picking our way across a beach of loose salt and settling ourselves into zero gravity lawn chairs, we
listened to the story of how Polish salt miners and their super health revealed the benefits of time spent in such a chamber and learned how we would soon be enveloped in an invisible blizzard of micro salt particles.
In perhaps the most stunning turn of events, we were informed that no talking or even whispering was allowed during the 45 minute session. And then the door clicked closed and the relaxing music seemed to grow louder, so we pushed back our reclining chairs, grabbed the fleece blankets, and stared dreamily at the aura lights twinkling from the ceiling.
Touted for improving respiratory health, anti-inflammation, and general relaxation, we were surprised that Gary and Louise wanted to go, but we were definitely along for the ride. Upon entering the unassuming strip mall shop front, dim lights, soothing music, and pleasant incense met us. We had to sign a few waivers and acknowledge a page of rules and disclaimers, but even the paperwork was not really a buzz-kill. The place was welcoming in an artificial Disney sort of way, and staring at the heavy door guarding the entrance to the faux cave, I suggested an escape room for our next activity.
When three blissed-out people in their 70s floated out and proceeded to make follow-up appointments, I was definitely intrigued, and craning my neck to catch a glimpse inside, I was more than ready to take my foot-protected self right into the cave. Our turn came soon enough, and after picking our way across a beach of loose salt and settling ourselves into zero gravity lawn chairs, we
listened to the story of how Polish salt miners and their super health revealed the benefits of time spent in such a chamber and learned how we would soon be enveloped in an invisible blizzard of micro salt particles.
In perhaps the most stunning turn of events, we were informed that no talking or even whispering was allowed during the 45 minute session. And then the door clicked closed and the relaxing music seemed to grow louder, so we pushed back our reclining chairs, grabbed the fleece blankets, and stared dreamily at the aura lights twinkling from the ceiling.
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