Snowshoeing with septuagenarians
Wading through breakup grief, I’d hit the haziest stage of recovery, somewhere between lying horizontal in dark rooms, and shaving my head. Short of purchasing clippers, I’d resolved to write about wellness travel. Clad in regulation white cotton pajamas in the Western Ghats of India, my lifestyle habits had been judged (hard) and my thoughts about aging, recalibrated. A vigorous wellbeing regimen had revealed my 34-year-old body to be pushing 40, metabolically. Confronting? Yes. Salvageable? Also yes. (More mindfulness, fewer cigarettes, and – my addition – no men). Next stop: I’d pull on my hiking boots for a flight out of sweltering Mumbai, to icy Tokyo. Post-Covid, Japan dominates algorithms and bucket lists.
