Nude dudes.

My half-working computer.

Mark in a car elevator.

Friedrichsbad spa.

Two days before the computer meltdown, I was in lovely Tubingen, talking to Katrin about my next destination.

"Baden-Baden?" Katrin said, scrunching her nose. "I would never think of going there. I think the only people who go there are rich Russian people."

Despite that non-endorsement, I knew I had to go to Baden-Baden. This spa town was highly recommended by my marathon-running partner Danielle, who gave glowing reviews about her spa experience there when she came back from her trip to Germany and then a second time when I told her I was going to Germany. After hearing her tales of hours of pampering and scrubbing and soaking on the cheap, I had no choice but to try it out. Who cares if it took me three different trains from Tubingen just to get there?

Like Danielle, I opted to go to the older spa called Friedrichsbad. They have a newer spa in town as well, but this one is more old-school, in an old-building--Roman bath style--including community nudity. This is where the naked men come in. I walked in that place and threw my American inhibitions out the door.

For 29 Euros, I had over three hours of indulgence, in 17-or-so timed steps. The first step is to completely get naked and take a public shower. Then I sat on a bed sheet in a hot sauna for 15 minutes and then an even hotter one for 5 minutes, which was so stifling I stayed only for 4. I showered again, and then a woman rubbed me with a very hard brush in the same fashion one would scrub the bathroom tub. It felt good and hurt at the same time. She lathered me in so much soap, I nearly slipped off the table. And then another shower.

From there, I walked into a "damp" sauna where I saw my first penis of the day. It was massive. You try not to look, but I could tell that everyone looks. Every time someone walks in (especially if it is a woman) the people inside the room (especially if it is a man) turn to look. And then you act like you don't care, but still, there is the initial look. And I saw everything: male and female, old and young, bananas and peanuts, watermelons and oranges, rolls and bones, hairy and bare. I knew people were watching me as well, but it didn't really bother me because hey, I was looking at them, too!

There were a series of pools: a hot pool, a whirlpool, a cool pool, where I stayed for 15 minutes each. People kept hopping in between the saunas and the pools, but I couldn't do anymore. By this time, I was one big prune. Another shower, and then a finally a dip in a bath tub filled with water that was Polar Bear Club cold. It felt like jumping into a bunch of knives, but when I came out and had the warm towel wrapped around me, it felt kind of nice.

I had all the lotion in the world to rub on myself and then I was escorted to a circular dark room where a woman wrapped me up in blankets like a cocoon and I napped. It was the best part. I woke up to a growling stomach but walked out of there feeling clean, refreshed, a little sleepy.

The town was the type that would perhaps only interest rich Russians, so I grabbed something to eat and hopped on two more trains to get to Kaiserslautern. Back in the summer, the same Danielle who had recommended the spa had contacted her friend, Mark, who lives there and he invited me to stay at his apartment. I actually had met Mark on marathon-day--he ran it, too--but that morning I was so nervous that I didn't pay attention and I had no mental picture.

Kaiserslautern and the surrounding areas are filled with 34,000 Americans who reside in the area and work on US Air Force base. Mark is hired by the air force to create maps for them. He lives in a giant new apartment in the middle of town and manages to live a pretty American lifestyle over here. In his wallet, he carries both Euros and dollars. (The American base uses US currency). The base has shops with American products and there are the usual fast-food chains--even a Chili's! (By coincidence, he also lives right across the street from McDonald's.) He tried to learn German at first, but everyone he knows--both work and friendswise--is American, so it wasn't worth the effort. He knows enough to get by. I was really surprised. It's like living in the States without being in the States.

Mark told me about getting a ticket for crossing the street without the walk signal (so it is true!) and driving 140 miles an hour on the autobahn. (We actually drove on the autobahn for about 10 minutes to visit his friend, but the part we were on had a speed limit, so it didn't seem very different.) He left this morning for a Thanksgiving ski trip in Austria and let me stay an extra day. I was looking forward to a day of relaxation, but I spent most of it looking at my broken computer and lamenting to Tabitha the cat. "Why me?"

The status is that the computer is still kind of workable, but most of my screen is black. I saved most of my documents and pictures and music on disks, and then tried to restore the computer as Dell costumer service told me to, but for some reason it is not letting me do so, and I can't really see what I am doing or why it is not working because of the black screen. Since I will be visiting some German friends tomorrow, perhaps they can accompany me to the computer repair store and speak on my behalf. Wish me luck. It took a while (and two computers) to get this entry together. No matter what, The Ham will go on!!