As I recline in a robe and nibble on dry fruit at the Peninsula Chicago's ESPA spa, I can feel the stresses of the last month – which included a visit from my mother – evaporate. So much so that when Pam, my massage therapist, comes to get me, I’m not sure I want to go. I’ll just relax here, thanks. But Pam tells me about the ancient Thai poultice treatment I’ll be receiving, the herbal compress, the lemongrass and ginger fragrances, and I manage to muster the energy. It’s so soothing that during the 90-minute treatment, I fall asleep twice. Each time I wake up and chastise myself: Do not miss another glorious minute of this.
That night I sleep like a baby on sheets as soft as the inside of my dog’s velvety ear. I wake up ready to tour Chicago. Should I check out the modern wing at the Art Institute of Chicago or the giant bean sculpture at Millennium Park? In truth, I’m reluctant to leave the bed, where everything I need is close at hand: TV remote, phone, my bag of peanut M&Ms and an inspiring view. By dinnertime, I’m ashamed to report that I’ve only managed to leave my room for lunch in the hotel’s lobby, aptly named the Lobby. (A week later I’m still thinking about the fresh market honey, the drizzle of truffle emulsion and chef Kinsella’s buttery foie gras spread thick on toasted country bread.) And sure, I might’ve taken a yoga class in the hotel gym to burn off some of those calories, but instead I go back to my room to enjoy Chicago’s hustle and bustle from above, via the panoramic windows that surround the deep, square tub.
The next day I have a learning experience scheduled at the Peninsula Academy. If I’d wanted to acquire a new skill, I might have signed up for a course in Chinese Tea ceremony or event planning (both are on offer), but I want to do something I already know I can ace: shopping. Bonnie Kaplan, my guide, is a former TV producer. Immaculately dressed in black, she limps in on a broken foot. “Dancing with George Clooney on New Year’s Eve!” Bonnie says, before I even ask. “Just kidding. I slipped.” Bonnie vows to give me the best shopping experience of my life, and after several stops, including a private sale at a pop-up shop I never would have found on my own, plus visits to Renegade Handmade, where I find a bunch of cute handmade gifts for friends back home, the Unison factory and Primitive (which is more museum than retail outlet and a must-see), I concede that she was right.
Dinner that night is at the Peninsula’s contemporary restaurant Avenues, and each course on the tasting menu arrives like a beautifully wrapped gift. Looking out at the Chicago skyline, I spy diners at another restaurant across the way. Poor souls, I think, as I break into the thin layer of tangerine lace that encases a hunk of king crab. They aren’t possibly eating as well as I am. I’m still meditating on the meal later as I listen to some shimmy and shake at Blue Chicago blues club. When the Peninsula’s bellhop, in his sharp uniform, sees me returning, he smiles. “Hello,” he says, his arm outstretched against the turnstile. “Welcome home.” I pat the head of the stone lion guarding the hotel doors. Home or not, there’s no place like it. I think I’ll go upstairs for another soak.
(Sarah Steinberg is enRoute’s web editor and the author of We Could Be Like That Couple…)
All photos: Courtesy of the Peninsula Chicago
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