Get off that treadmill!

And go for a walk in the park - you are on holiday!

 Does anyone in their right mind spend time on a treadmill while on holiday at one of the best hotels in the world? That thought popped into my mind as I walked past the gym at the Four Seasons in Koh Samui (and yes, before you ask, that’s exactly where the forthcoming season of  White Lotus was shot). Why would you waste your time pounding away indoors — no matter how great the view — when you could just as easily be walking on the beach or hiking up the verdant hills that dot the resort? Surely combining aerobic activity with some sightseeing is the way to go while on holiday? 

Well, that’s how I feel anyway. Nothing would induce me to work out indoors when I could be totting up my 10,000 steps a day by doing something interesting outside. One of my top five things to do while on holiday is to take a turn around neighbourhood parks to get a sense of local life (my favourites so far are St James’ Park in London; Il Retiro in Madrid; Central Park in New York; and Lumpini in Bangkok). I try and walk around new cities as much as I can. On inclement days, traipsing around a museum makes the most sense (the National Portrait Gallery in London is a particular haunt of mine), especially when they have a snug little cafe attached to it. And if you are in the middle of the countryside, there is nothing quite as invigorating as a hike uphill to see some interesting vistas. 

When I am on holiday, there is just a small set of activities that are acceptable to me. I don’t, for instance, mind joining a cooking class if it means getting an insight into the cuisine of the host country. This doesn’t always work of course. I once signed up for an afternoon’s class on Sri Lankan cuisine — only to be taught how to make (wait for this!) a dal. But it does work on occasion — and that makes it worth the effort of slaving over a hot stove in the middle of your break. I also love the idea of a food walk, led by a knowledgeable local, which gives you the opportunity to savour the flavours of that region.

But, not to worry, it’s not just about the food (though that is a huge part of it!). I am not averse to doing a bit of yoga in the open air as long as guided meditation is not part of the deal (sitting around with eyes closed, trying to still my mind, is not my idea of holiday fun!). And I can while away entire afternoons by the hotel poolside, kidding myself that I am exercising, even as I waddle lazily from one side of the pool to the other. 

I guess everyone has their acceptable level of activity while on holiday. Some may prefer to spend the entire day lazing in the sun, reading a book while sipping on a cocktail. Some others may find satisfaction in heading for a hike in the evening, armed with bottle of water. 

And then there are those who insist on beginning their day with a six-mile long walk on the treadmill in the hotel gym. It is this group that leaves me mystified. But then, they would be equally baffled by the likes of me!

Mind over matter

There is no one way to meditate - do whatever works for you 

As part of my resolution to try something new every time I go on vacation, I signed up for a guided meditation class last week. I have dabbled with yoga in my time, have done my share of breathing exercises, but somehow I have never really got around to meditating in earnest. 

It began well, with the mandatory inhales and exhales and many chants of ‘Om’, all of which I am familiar with. But as the instructions got more and more complicated (“put the backs of your hands together, place them on your chest, and move your thumbs in a clockwise motion”) my mind, instead of being cleansed of all thought, began to focus on all the aches and pains that my body was experiencing, almost as if in protest against the indignities it was being subjected to. 

My legs were twitching in discomfort at being pinned down in lotus position for ages. My back was protesting against being held upright on a hard floor for such a long period of time. And my neck developed a crick in a matter of minutes as I tried to hold one ambitious pose after another. 

I tried hard to get into the spirit of things, but in about half an hour I had to concede to myself that this was not going to work. I was too focused on my physical discomfort to transcend to a place of spiritual calm. 

So, did this mean that meditation was not for the likes of me? Was I one of those people who can never rid their minds of extraneous thought no matter how hard they try? Was I doomed to go through life without experiencing the beatific calm that comes from a mind cleanse?

Well, yes and no. 

I have come to the conclusion that formal mediation - as in the yoga tradition - is not for me. But that doesn’t mean that I can never achieve meditative calm. I just arrive at that end through different means. 

To me, meditation is not sitting cross-legged in a darkened room, intoning ‘Om’ and breathing deeply. But there are some simple, everyday activities that fulfil the task of meditation for me. 

Taking a long walk in a beautiful park at the end of the working day, listening to bird song, brings with it a calm that lulls my mind into a zen-like state. Sitting in a sun-dappled corner of my living room and losing myself in a book has the same effect. Lying on a beach, watching the waves splash endlessly against the shoreline, can wash away my everyday cares. Peeling and cutting vegetables or just stirring a curry in the kitchen is a meditative act for me. 

The truth is that meditation can take many different forms for different people. For a new mother, just concentrating on her baby’s gurgle of laughter, can make the rest of the world fall away. For devout people, spending time in prayer can be a meditative experience. Some do their meditation in the bath, letting their minds go blank as they immerse themselves in soap suds. 

There is no one way to meditate. And there are no good or bad ways to meditate. It’s just a question of working out what works for you. And then, making it work for you. 

Forty and counting

The tell-tale signs of incipient middle-age; how many do you identify with?

One of my daily trawls across the Internet threw up this interesting fact. According to a recent study, people become more concerned about their health once they hit 40. And by the time they are 45 they tend to make serious lifestyle changes so as to improve their quality of life. They start to eat better, exercise more, take their daily supplements, have preventive health check-ups, and so on and so forth.

Or I guess, in other words, they become a little more aware of their own mortality and start taking steps to defer it for as long as possible.

Looking around me in my peer group of 40-somethings, I have to admit that there is something to this study. These days it’s impossible to have a meal with a friend without it turning into an exercise in calorie-counting. Do you think the salad is a better bet than the soup if we order the dressing on the side? Wine? You must be joking; a Diet Coke, please. If we skip the main course, can we share a dessert instead? Let’s have an Americano rather than a cappuccino (and no, I don’t care if they make it with low-fat milk).

And that’s just the men. The women, on the other hand, have perfected the art of ordering the least calorific meals without even looking at the menu. So, it’s sashimi rather than sushi; fish rather than meat; steamed rather than sautéed (and please don’t even mention the ‘f’ word: ‘frying’); mushrooms rather than potatoes; coffee rather than cake.

The conversation follows much the same line. When we are not discussing the latest injuries we picked up doing power yoga/Pilates/kick-boxing, we are playing the ‘my work-out is more aerobic than yours’ game. The merits of Dukan Diet are debated endlessly (did you see how good Carole Middleton looked at her daughter’s wedding thanks to that regimen?). We swap notes about our latest spa retreats, trekking holidays or wellness resorts. We advise each other to have Omega 3 capsules, glucosamine, primrose oil and lots of goji berries.

So yes, you can tell the onset of middle-age by what we eat, how much we exercise and what we talk about. But that is – as is usual – just part of the story. There are several other markers of incipient middle-age and here is just a sampling of the most common. Read on and weep for your lost youth...

• You worry much more about exams than you ever did as a kid. Only this time round, it’s your children’s board exams that you are obsessing over. I mean, honestly, have you seen the cut-offs this year? They are insane!

• If you have spent most of your youth trying not to get pregnant then this is when Sod’s Law catches up with you. Now, it’s time to obsess about having a baby before your body clock gives up on you. So bring on the basal thermometer, the hormone treatments, the IVF, whatever it takes. Tick tock, tick tock.

• You think more about comfort than style when you go shoe-shopping. You may gaze longingly at those vertiginous heels that you used to go dancing in (God, when was the last time you went dancing?) but you settle for the sensible wedges in which you can do the school run and the grocery shopping after a hard day at work.

• For someone whose hearing is beginning to present the teeniest-tiniest problem, you develop an astonishing sensitivity to sound. Do your kids really need to have the music up this loud? Must the folks upstairs move heavy furniture around every morning? And why does everybody on the Metro have to talk so loudly into their mobile phones? Honestly, couldn’t they have made it an Underground like the one in London?

• It gets easier and easier to fall asleep when the night is still young – but harder and harder to wake up after a night out. And when you do surface, you need industrial doses of caffeine to feel human again.

• You begin to measure your day in pills: for blood pressure, for diabetes, for constipation, for back pain, and several other bodily functions that we will draw a discreet veil over.

• The fashions of your youth roll by again; but your kids kill themselves laughing when you try them on. Honestly, don’t you think I can work these ‘boyfriend’ jeans? Er, no, Mum. I think that biker jacket would look great on me. In your dreams, Dad!

• To make matter worse, the nice young couple who have moved in next door call you ‘Aunty’ or ‘Uncle’ when they can’t be more than a few years older than you. (Okay, so maybe a decade older, but hey, who’s counting?)

• In an attempt to cheer yourself up, you go to the nightclub with your buddies to check out the babe action – and realise that all of them could be your daughter’s friends. Eww!

• You have to think twice before going on your knees to retrieve a shoe that’s rolled under the bed – because you’re not sure if you can ever get up again.

If you identify with four or more of the items listed above, then you’re officially part of the middle-aged club.

But hey, don’t get too depressed. You know what they say about growing old. It’s seems like bad news – until you consider the alternative.