On New Year's Day 2007, I awoke at 5 a.m. to the by-then-familiar cacophony of howler monkeys and toucans, feeling not quite up to snuff. Perhaps I had been a bit overserved the night before? Perhaps Andrea's lymphatic drainage massage of the previous morning had pulled the plug on some fetid swamp of toxins better left alone? Or perhaps it was just a touch of simple exhaustion—from having spent the past five days fishing, zip-lining through rain forest canopies and snarling up and down muddy mountain tracks on ATVs with my energetic children and their spouses—combined with the perfectly natural queasiness of a reluctant cub spa reporter who'd yet to sample the other offerings on the substantial service menu of Spa Tranquila at Costa Rica's Rancho Pacifico hotel.
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