Out & About #1074 | Bliss Head Spa + Scarborough Roaming

​Towards the end of last fall, I booked a trip to Asia - the birthplace of K-Pop and GOT7, to be exact. Ironing out the logistics, comparing accommodations, and evaluating the individual transit/tourist attraction options hasn't been the most entertaining, but this is not the time and place to explaining the grueling process.

Whilst preparing the "fun" itinerary for my upcoming trip, my search landed upon scalp treatments. The session was offered by most foreigner-friendly (ie. English-speaking) salons, with the session spanning 80-90 minutes of a before-treatment analysis (complete with photos of the hair follicle), scalp and neck massage, and post-treatment review. I quickly made a deposit for a salon in Myeongdong, only to discover the availability of such a treatment closer to home.

With the promising review of foodrealm and an ongoing Spring Festival/Valentine's Day promotion, I was persuaded into securing an appointment at Bliss Head Spa immediately. It also helped that the promotional offer was priced at essentially half of my anticipated treatment abroad. The allure intensified with a two-person discount on the Facial and Scalp Massage bundle. Initially, I had requested the Aqua Oxygen Treatment, but was told that the machine was out of service. I reverted to the basic Facial as a result, then booked the bundle for both my browsing partner and I. 

It had worked in our favour that the spa operated on statutory holidays and that the final day of Family Day long weekend was, thankfully, free of heavy snowfall. Caution was nevertheless exercised during navigation, for not all roads nor parking lots had been fully cleared.

Bliss Head Spa was located on the outskirts of Scarborough/Markham, between 14th Avenue and Steeles on Markham Road. The commute was an exhaustive sixty minutes, but featured distinctly lower levels of congestion than the usual weekend morning. Perhaps it was the threat of snow squalls or the lingering aftermath of the snowstorm from the past two days, but the 54 kilometre drive was largely devoid of other vehicles at the early hour of 10 AM.

We pulled into a decidedly snowy lot just short of 10:30 AM, spotting the spa's logo from Karachi Drive. Turning into the closest asphalt lot would reveal a plaza with as much surface parking as mounds of piled snow. Amidst insane gustiness, snow would be gathered from their pile and tossed into the atmosphere, slamming into the faces of those that dared trek across the vast expanse of asphalt. Weaving our way to Bliss involved determination and resilience - an act not for the weak and unwilling.

The door immediately revealed the waiting area and reception desk. Positioned adjacent to the entrance were a handful of shoe trays - not enough to support their steady inflow of customers - and a shelf with refreshments of tea, crispy milk crackers, and the signature Chinese grocery guava hard candy.

​With the reception desk being unmanned for the first few minutes of our arrival, I hesitated not in plopping my belongings down into the nearest of the two chairs, unveiling my personal pair of plastic slippers, and zooming straight towards the washroom. The single accessible stall was found past a hair-drying bar and treatment room, immediately across from a series of lockers. Having called beforehand, I confirmed that the cubbies would be available on-site. That said, we eventually took all of our belongings with us into the treatment room, then later shifted to the hair-drying room, with no use for lockers at all.

The stall itself was bright and inviting, with a pristine counter and toiler, but somewhat questionable floor. A dustpan and mop tucked into the corner revealed lengthy strands of hair. Remnants on the washroom floor would tell the same tale.

When I returned to the waiting area, my browsing partner had been provided slippers and gestured towards the second chair. A greyish pair of bubble slippers had been laid out for me use, but I much preferred my own for hygiene reasons. We were then guided into one of (I believe) four treatment rooms.
Fitted with mood lights, a coat rack with flickering LEDs, and a mini galaxy projector to boot, the atmosphere was as whimsically serene as could be. Needless to say, relaxing music and water sounds were not to be exempted. The space comprised of two beds, each fitted with an illuminated sink, waterfall contraption, and vinyl-lined headrest to prevent water damage. Between the two beds was single track curtains, similar to those used to provide separation between treatment areas in physio facilities and hospitals. This granted guests a safe space to change, independent of the treatment progress of his or her neighbour. Placed on top of the sheets of my bed was a "robe", which, in actuality, was a half shower wrap with buttons. Bottoms could be retained for the duration of the treatment, but tops were to be removed to enable massage of the neck, shoulder, and collarbone area.

​A 75-minute Facial and Scalp Massage had been booked for the both of us. Once we were confirmed to have comfortably positioned ourselves in the comfort of the sheets, the sliding door opened and in entered two technicians. The one in charge of my treatment appeared more outspoken and also more experienced. When I advised her of the need to avoid a sensitive old scar, she followed up with a few questions to determine its severity and whether certain facial products could be used: "Is it (a) new (scar)? Are you applying medicine for it?" I appreciated these careful considerations, along with her mention of each step of the procedure. These communication efforts were not mirrored in the few correspondences made by my browsing partner's technician. In fact, I had to pry open my eyes to confirm whether the second technician was even present.

An expectedly thorough Facial was performed first. To start, a weighted eye mask was placed on the face to ease tension and relax the face for a sculpting massage. I'd hear the reverberations of a small gong around me. Subsequent steps of the process comprised of two rounds of cleansing, one round of deep cleansing (mild exfoliation), a collagen mask formula, and a sheet mask to seal and calm the skin. Upon removing the third and final layer of cleansing product from my face using cotton pads, my technician had taken care to confirm acceptability of using collagen and calming masks before initiating the next step of the procedure. As the sheet mask resided on the face, the Scalp Massage would ensue.

​​Gentle double cleansing and a hydrating treatment were applied to the hair, then lathered slightly. At several points throughout, my head would be carefully turned to the right, then the left, for massage of the neck and jaw and clearing soapy residue behind the ears and at the base of the neck. We then moved onto the waterfall head spa, the most anticipated aspect of the treatment. Initiating the apparatus induced vibrations and, perhaps the only odd bit, an automated message in Chinese. Water temperature could be adjusted for both the faucet and waterfall contraption, though I found the streams to either be too cold or too warm. For cooler streams of water, I'd recommend wearing full-length cotton pants, since neither the room nor blankets are heated. Parts of the upper body was exposed for shoulder, arm, and hand massages in the meantime, thus dressing appropriately is key to keeping goosebumps at bay.

The waterfall contraption would run for a substantial period of time, offering an wonderfully soothing sensation, unparalleled to the basic scalp massages at hair salons. The automated Chinese voice would return with shutoff of the machine, albeit a shorter phrase.

A hot towel was prepared to stretch my neck, then later used to remove any remnants of massage oil off my shoulders and collarbone. My arms and hands, on the other hand, would not be wiped.

My browsing partner and I had both presumed hair-drying to be the duty of the customer. Much to my surprise, the technician followed up with instructions to dress quickly and "come out for hair drying" after towel drying my hair. The single track curtain was swiftly tugged and I was left to rummage through my excessively bulky bag for a top. Immediately across from the treatment room was a hair-drying station fitted with touchscreen mirrors, dyson dryers, branded argan oil (Fossa and Moraccanoil!), and artificial shrubbery. As my eased myself into the chair, a tray of tea, packaged milk biscuits, and guava hard candy were presented before me. A large paddle brush was retrieved from one of the drawers; the technician commenced drying my hair at full blast, eventually adopting use of the diffuser to finish. This process was, again, extremely relaxing and a grand departure from the woeful, high-heat tugs of junior hairstyling staff. "Your hair was so beautiful under the water!" my technician commented while smoothing out my strands. I lifted my eyes to match her gaze in the mirror. "So beautiful with the colour!"
My browsing partner would join me some few minutes later, with the corresponding technician hastily grabbing my partially consumed tea and open package of biscuits from the tray to place before the neighbouring seat. Beyond being inaudible for majority of the session, her actions appeared rash and uncontrolled. I only later learned that she had forgotten a few steps of the procedure, but was prompted by the detailed explanations and updates of my technician.

The mention/introduction of each step of the procedure, plus confirmation to proceed, was definitely an aspect worth commending. With particular regard to neck stretching, the warning serves to inform the customer about next steps and remind of appropriate actions. For example, one should not resist movement during stretching and strive to relax during massages. My technician maintained clear communication and kept me updated throughout the treatment, without me ever needing to open my eyes or provide gestures to supplement understanding. Consequently, it should be noted that the overall experience will be highly dependent on the skills and capabilities of the assigned technician.

By the time both of us had our hair lightly oiled and dried, a receptionist with blond hair was seen rushing into the hair-drying room, arms full of our belongings. "I need to clear the room for the next customer" she told us, somewhat awkwardly. "Can you check to make sure this is everything?" Coats, bags, and accessories were plopped into the seat beside us, leaving us to comprehend the situation and its demands. Having been forcibly escorted out of the private room, we were informed that the hair-drying room could be used for changing.
At our time of arrival, the spa had been rather quiet. Entering into the early afternoon hours though, it became apparent that the small space was exceptionally busy - even in the face of snowstorm aftermath! Disruptive had been the booming voices from behind the sliding doors of our treatment room. 

During our brief moment of shared solitude (no pun intended), I marveled at the softness of my hair and tamed frizziness. While my own post-hair drying formula had been stuffed into my bag out of caution, its need was eliminated based on the premium amenities offered on site. Feeling invigorated, refreshed, and embodying a renewed perception of relaxation, I beamed at my reflection in the LED-bordered mirror. At first glance, my complexion seemed brighter; later on, I'd discover improved elasticity and silky suppleness. There was an unmistakable difference in overall wellness levels.

​While approaching the exit, the receptionist presented us with a massage gun and gift bag fitted with crinkled paper shreds, an eye mask, and jade roller. The bonus was owed to foodrealm's media-based connection with the spa, for not all first-time patrons would receive the benefit. I gifted the massage gun and eye mask to my browsing partner, but reached for the jade roller to keep.

Strolling back to the vehicle, we braced ourselves for odd mounds of snow and gusty conditions. The location of Bliss Head Spa was hardly ideal for residents of Mississauga/west GTA, however we both agreed that the treatment was worthy of the visit and alluded it to being an occasional treat.

The next agenda item of the day was Walmart. Two locations had been flagged as potential carriers of my coveted natural cocoa powder, though their inventory count was not publicized. Anxiously speeding into the location at Donald Cousens and Copper Creek Drive, I was positively flabbergasted at the fully stocked shelves! Whipping around to face my browsing partner, anyone could decipher my excitement from the excited jumping, widened eyes, and gaping grin.

Truthfully, I had expected maybe five containers at most, and was determined to sweep the store's stock wherein less than ten units were available. In this case, I settled for a case of 12, plus two more for good measure.

The nearby pouches of Nestle Toll House chocolate chips were other products of interest. A pack of the Butterscotch edition would quickly be added to my purchasing pile before navigating to the checkout. Suffice to say, I couldn't recall a time where I, nor anyone that I am aware of, has invested this extensively in cocoa powder.

​The purchases were placed in the trunk before we re-entered the premises. A second Walmart stop had been included in the plans as a backup, but instantly voided given the huge haul. Lunch would take the form of Cheeseburgers and Fries, complemented with a watered-down Iced Coffee (me) and hot Orange Pekoe tea.

Being utterly ahead of schedule meant that detours could be entertained. We headed in the direction of central Scarborough, making one stop at H&A Bakery. The wholesale outlet was situated in a primarily commercial-industrial area. A handful of vehicles were spotted within the snowy asphalt lot. Braving ruthless gusts of snow, I intrepidly climbed the stairs to the storefront.

The door opened, revealing the delectable aroma of baked goods. However, a metal gate was fixed in the entryway. Behind it, I observed lockers and a communal dining area - indicators of a workplace without a retail-facing storefront. The door was closed, and I retraced my steps back through the snow. My 笑口棗 needs would need to be taken elsewhere.

Continuing south, I turned into the Sky City plaza and parked in the nearest, precipitation-free spot. Heavy snowfall, poor snow-clearing services, and treacherous drivers are a combination potentially deadlier than black ice, thus I erred on the side of caution and parked alongside an existing lineup of (somewhat angled) vehicles.
​
Daigyo would assume our point of interest. Between us, a Daigyo Parfait and Red Bean Shiratama Sando would be requested.

Since the shuttering of their North York location, neither my browsing partner nor I had the luxury of sampling their lusciously potent Matcha Parfait. The signature Daigyo Parfait singly quenched our deepest desires for an afternoon pick-me-up that was equal parts grassy and bittersweet. Its harmonious components held an undeniable advantage over Tsujiri's edition, which was excessively sweet due to brown sugar appearing both in the syrup and underlying jelly layer. Extras such as dango and chestnut were omitted; in place of basic corn flakes were wispy granules of puffed rice. A robust drizzle of matcha syrup contributed complexity to the overall creation. The winner of the two matcha parfaits was obvious.

My browsing partner had taken note of my wandering eyes, offering procurement of the Red Bean Shiratama Sando in response to my cravings for "something starchy". I initially dismissed the proposal on the account of its irrationally steep $7.75 price tag, though eventually agreed out of fondness for mochi. The Sando was prepared in a separate area, likely due to lack of space for a sandwich press next to the shop's matcha-making setup. Bearing noticeable press marks, the square was sliced diagonally then fitted into a patterned paper bag. Peeking within rewarded me with a spurt of steam and cognizance of a small condiment container. Upon closer inspection, its contents were discovered identical to that of the matcha drizzle adorning the surface of the Daigyo Parfait. Yet, the manner in which the Sando and drizzle could be consumed simultaneously was beyond me.

​Bringing one of two triangles close, I perceived not the smell of sweetened azuki, but rather unbleached flour from the bready casing. The first bite was steamy and bland, while the second tacky and awfully dry. I attempted to saturate a corner of the Sando with the matcha drizzle, only to surrender shortly afterwards and pour a stream along the exposed end. Excessive bitterness prevailed. The issue of dryness was not resolved either. Overall, the Red Bean Shiratama Sando was merely a mushy, tacky, and texture-less compilation with nonexistent flavour payoff. These remarks were consistent across the table, and we vowed to seek out only the parfait on our next visit.

Tables were few and not very pristine. That said, I appreciated the friendly demeanour of the cashier, quick order preparation time, and availability of an accessible washroom. While it was far from spotless, Daigyo was commended for being one of the few establishments in the Sky City plaza offering indoor plumbing facilities to customers.

​When we returned to the vehicle, I was dumbfounded by the sight of yet another east GTA driver devoid of common sense and spatial awareness. The parking was outright despicable!

​Pacific Mall was the last stop of the day. Unplanned but never uninteresting, the indoor Chinese marketplace was amongst the few retailers operating on the statutory holiday. This equated to a tremendous left turn queue from Steeles and a somewhat excruciating parking situation in the underground garage. At least fifteen minutes would pass before we successfully boarded the escalator to the main floor.

The Best Shop on the upper level assumed our first stop. From discounted snake plushies to Luminus-branded LED bulbs, the retailer offered a variety of Made in China goods for the average non-English-speaking housewife and house reno geek. It is worth noting that the Pacific Mall outpost is not only more spacious than the First Markham Place location, but also carries a wider assortment of products.

​I stopped by Tung Tung in the food court to secure two packs of Crispy Egg Rolls. Nearly every food retailer saw staggering lineups due to the holiday, but I was thankful to have been allocated towards a shorter, egg roll-specific lineup away from the hoard of egg waffle enthusiasts.

​Mission accomplished, my browsing partner led me to Zion down the street for awareness of product availability and shockingly clean bathrooms. Finally, we embarked on the fifty-minute trip home.