Travel Reference
In-Depth Information
challenge and a frustration for me as a guide. I care because, once people get
used to it, I i nd they consider it a great experience. My i rst European spa
visit was with my wife and some German friends—a classy, good-looking
young couple. We were swept into the changing area with no explanation,
and suddenly the Germans were naked. Eventually we realized everyone was
just there to relax. We eased up and got more comfortably naked. It's not
sexual...simply open and free.
Whether in a German spa, a Finnish sauna, a Croatian beach, or a
Turkish hammam (I can't come up with an English example), a fun part of
travel can be getting naked with strangers. Of course, when producing pub-
lic television, we can't easily show spas, saunas, or beaches in Europe where
spite of the rough
treatment, it was
extremely relaxing.
Finished with
a Teutonic spank
on the butt, I was
sent of into the
pools. Nude, without my glasses, and
not speaking the language, I was
gawky. On a sliding scale between Mr.
Magoo and Woody Allen, I was every-
where. Steam rooms, cold plunges...it
all led to the mixed section.
This is where the Americans get
really uptight. The parallel spa facili-
ties intersect, as both men and women
share the fi nest three pools. Here, all
are welcome to glide under exquisite
domes in perfect silence like aristo-
cratic swans. Germans are nonchalant,
tuned into their bodies and focused
on solitary relaxation. Tourists are
tentative, trying to be cool...but more
aware of their nudity.
The climax is the cold plunge. I'm
not good with cold water—yet I abso-
lutely love this. You must not wimp
out on the cold plunge.
Then an atten-
dant escorted me
into the “quiet
room” and asked
if I'd like to be
awoken at any
time. I told him
at closing time. He wrapped me in
hot sheets and a brown blanket. No,
I wasn't wrapped...I was swaddled.
Warm, fl at on my back, among twenty
hospital-type beds—only one other
bed was occupied…he seemed dead.
I stared up at the ceiling, and some
time later was jolted awake by my
own snore.
Leaving, I weighed myself again:
91 kilos. I had shed 2.2 pounds of
sweat. It would have been more if ten-
sion had mass. Stepping into the cool
evening air, I was thankful my hotel
was a level two-block stroll away. Like
Gumby, fl ush and without momen-
tum, I fell slow-motion onto my down
comforter, my head buried in a big,
welcoming pillow. Wonderfully naked
under my clothes, I could only think,
“Ahhhh. Baden-Baden.”
