Overpriced Spas and Under-dressed Germans

Learn more about Germany in International Living Postcards--your daily escape

Thursday, July 5, 2007

Were Mayan priestesses ever called Nancy? And were their "healing rites and sacred mysteries" effective against smallpox and the steely blades of Spain's conquistadores?

I recently read about a two-hour spa treatment on Mexico's Yucatan peninsula. The "God/Goddess Ritual" apparently involves the usual palaver of sacred caves, hot lava stones, local herbs, grape seed scrubs, burning copal, etc.

In what are described as Mayan rites, therapists massage you with "synchronized dance-like movements" and offer prayers on your behalf. (Offer prayers to whom or what, the starry-eyed writer fails to mention.)

As an editor, I know freelancers aren't the world's highest-paid people. So, it's difficult to believe that the writer spent $470 of her own money on such hocus pocus.

My guess is this particular spa--featured in numerous travel, bridal, and women's glossies--offers the media "hospitality" (i.e. freebies). Or, perhaps the magazine pays the writer's expenses.

In return for publicity, the editor later gets "invited" for personal lavishments and a stay at the adjoining resort hotel. That's how things work in the travel industry's high echelons.

Spas used to be about genuine health benefits, not pretentious pampering. With so-called treatments getting ever more ludicrous and expensive, it's refreshing to revisit Germany's Black Forest spa town of Baden-Baden.

"You lose track of time within 10 minutes and track of the world within 20…" So proclaimed Mark Twain during his visit to the town's Friedrichsbad. I don't know what he paid then--but a three and a half hour session complete with massage cost me 29 euro ($40).

The Friedrichsbad's classical porticos, domed halls, and hand-painted tiles are little changed since opening day in 1877. So are the bathing traditions. Icy cold showers and plunge pools…air baths and steam rooms of differing temperatures…warm thermal pools. Its mineral-rich waters are in the business of healing broken bones and relieving rheumatism--not transforming mortals into deities.

In Victorian England, similar temples of well-being went by the name of Turkish Baths. Baden-Baden called theirs the Römisch-Irische, or Roman-Irish Baths. The Emperor Vespasian's VIII Legion had a garrison here and the town's original Roman Baths are below the Römerplatz. Part of the ruins can be seen below a glass cover.

I was intrigued to learn the Irish connection doesn't derive from the sweat baths of the ancient Celts. Rather it's because Europe's first Turkish Bath was built by an Irish physician in County Cork in 1856.

Beware--Germany takes its bathing rituals seriously. At the Friedrichsbad, you follow "A 16-Point Bathing Plan." No wandering between various pools and rooms in the non-prescribed order.

No prayers or chanting either. Even better, the exfoliating massage doesn't involve Exotic Dew and dancing Mayan priestesses called Nancy. Instead, you're sudded with unaromatic white soap, and massaged with what looks and feels exactly like a scrubbing brush. Picture a no-nonsense nanny faced with removing mud from a grubby scallywag of a child…

The New York Times recently called the experience "disturbingly old-fashioned." I rather think the writer was disturbed less by the scrubbing brush and more by another of the regulations. It stipulates: No clothing is worn when bathing in the Friedrichsbad.

Did I mention you spend the entire 3.5 hour session stark naked? Although there are separate sessions for men and women on Mondays and Thursdays, all other days are mixed.

You get a (clothed) masseur of the same sex, but in Germany, nudity isn't regarded as some odd perversion. The same goes for Scandinavia. If you're self-conscious about your body, I'd say a trip to the Friedrichsbad will cure you in a way that hours of couch therapy never could. Children under the age of 14 aren't permitted, but you'll sit here with men and women of all shapes, ages, and sizes.

Nobody stares at you. They're naked, you're naked. What's the big deal?

After five minutes, I can almost guarantee that all awkwardness will have vanished. (The initial freezing shower puts paid to any blushes.) You'll leave with your skin tingling, aches gone, and an appetite for Black Forest hikes and bowls of cream-laden Spargelsuppe.

Despite my skiing and horsy activities, I don't yet suffer from displaced joints. So, I'll leave you with Mark Twain's thoughts: "I firmly believe I left my rheumatism in Baden-Baden," he said. "The town is welcome to it."

Georgina Adams
The Untourist, International Living

P.S. I'm the new editor of The Untourist, a free e-eletter that rails against the travel industry's conspiracy to delude readers that everywhere in the world is perfect. If you think you can handle my brutally honest reports…then welcome aboard.

P.P.S. For more information on spas in Germany, go to http://www.carasana.de. The Friedrichsbad opens Monday to Saturday from 9 a.m. to 10 p.m.; Sundays and holidays from noon until 8 p.m. No tips are sought or expected by the masseurs. If you're still unconvinced about naked bathing, swimsuits are worn in the Caracalla Therme, on the other side of the Römerplatz. But not in the saunas. Here, too, all clothing remains in the locker room.