A Trip to Sofia’s
How do I begin?
I went to Sofia’s new salon in Ojochal.
A beautiful space with Sofia written everywhere—on every knickknack, every detail, every corner. The walls were painted as vivid and colorful as her personality. An incredible moon hung high above you as you entered the space, like a beacon calling you in.
Girlfriend, there ain’t no simply walking into this space.
It’s a full-on experience.
Scattered throughout the colors and textures were Tibetan bowls, crystal bowls, and various other tools akin to her craft. Everywhere you looked there was something else to discover. Another layer of mystery hiding in corners where only spiders would normally hang out.
I had come to take a dip in the deep end of the pool.
I was there for my first full-on facial.
But not some typical, boring facial.
Oh no.
This one, I could feel, was about to be otherworldly.
The treatment room is surrounded by glass, so you’re receiving treatments in the middle of the jungle—but with the comfort of conditioned air. A storm had been brewing all weekend, and I could feel the atmospheric pressure changing as the heavy clouds rolled in.
Sofia began explaining the process, giving me just enough of a taste of what was to come without spoiling the sauce.
Then she began setting the atmosphere.
She arranged her potions and tools of the trade while I sat back and took in the delicious aromas beginning to fill the air.
And then…
It began.
Now, I have to say, there is something absolutely amazing about having someone spread oils and potions across your face as though they possess cardinal knowledge of every curve of your nose and jawline.
You begin to drift.
Somewhere along the way, you find yourself on another plane of consciousness.
And this is where my mind becomes untethered and the imagination of many ages begins to set in.
First came this little miniature hair-trimmer-feeling thing.
Immediately, my mind saw Sofia up there on my face mowing all the rogue hairs from my head.
Of course, that’s not what was happening.
And as far as I can tell, I’m not missing any facial hair.
Then came a brisk period of sweating as a bath of aromas, sacred oils, and mysterious potions were applied.
I pictured myself outside in the humid jungle air, surrounded by fragrant flowers, with bees buzzing around my face and ears.
Minutes slid by unnoticed.
My mind was anywhere but in that room.
The treatments continued for what seemed like hours, each one more amazing and transformational than the last.
And then…
The mask.
Already tripping somewhere on another plane, a cool goo was slowly applied across my entire face.
Including my eyes.
The application was slow.
Purposeful.
Almost ceremonial.
And then the rain came.
Hard.
Like it does here.
Unable to open my eyes, I realized Sofia had disappeared.
Or at least I couldn’t find her.
So my mind went looking.
And all it found was sound.
A low, soulful ringing.
A gong that seemed to go on forever.
Then another.
And suddenly, I was somewhere else entirely.
The next thing I knew, I was in a funeral pyre.
A death mask was being made for my loved ones.
The sounds of some ancient ceremony rang out around me.
Then the rains came.
But not only outside in the jungle.
Inside as well.
The bowls continued ringing around me, surrounding me.
And somewhere in that strange place, I had this realization:
We don’t escape our pain in death.
Okay…
My knee started hurting.
And apparently that pain had found its way into my hallucination.
Then I felt hands again.
Real hands.
Massaging my forehead and hairline.
Slowly, the mask was removed.
And I landed.
Back on the table where I had been for the past hour.
There was another treatment—some kind of blue light and warmth that was simply divine.
A spritz.
A spray.
And after having completely left my body…
I was told, in the gentlest voice, that it was over.
And just like that…
I had returned from my trip to Sofia’s.
Two Travelin' Chicas... 