The spa life.

The spa.

This morning I was grumpy. I walked to the bus station and found out that there weren't any buses to my next location. Tomorrow, I will have to travel back to Prague and then take a bus or train to Ceske Budejovice. I will be traveling all day.

After walking around with a cloud looming overhead, I realized I needed to adjust my attitude. Where did I need to go? I have all the time in the world. I am on the trip of a lifetime. I am in no rush. The journey is part of the trip.

Maybe I am grumpy because I haven't really spoken to anyone besides waiters and annoyed bus ticket counter people in the last few days. Or maybe it is just the water.

To cheer me up, I decided to walk to the Albert's grocery store and buy myself some food for my trip tomorrow. I picked up some fresh rolls, sliced ham, chips, chocolate. I noticed that their cookie selection wasn't the greatest: lots of wafers. But I did enjoy the large ice cream display they had, which prompted me to get one, even though it was only noon. Is it ever too early for ice cream?

Afterwards, I headed to the spa, which is a grand white building that looks a little frayed around the edges. I was a little nervous about my 30-minutes of pampering, but then I remembered that it was only 30 minutes. I walked upstairs to my first treatment, which was going to be a "peat" bath. The place looked more like a hospital than a spa facility. There place was white all over--a very institutional feel--with long hallways and door after door of rooms. I sat on the chair next to my room, where others (mostly older women) were waiting as well.

A woman wearing all white briskly walked from room to room. I am not sure what she was doing, but she obviously worked there and was obviously very busy. She talked loudly, slammed doors, sometimes carried out large white sheets out of rooms and throwing them in a large laundry bin. She took my spa schedule and stamped it. It was all very official.

She called me over, and I followed her into one of the rooms, where there was a large silver bathtub that she was filling up with water that came from two gold handles. She said something to me, which I think meant get undressed, and so as she prepared the water, I got naked. She helped me into the tub, set a timer for 15 minutes and left.

I thought that I was getting a mud bath, but instead this was a warm bath with mud particles inside. The tub was so big, filled with water all the way to my chin, that I had to force myself not to float to the top. When I lifted my arms, I could see brown speckles all over them.

I could hear the woman outside slamming doors, talking loudly, people walking by and so instead of staring at the white hospital tiled wall, I closed my eyes and tried to relax. It felt nice. Fifteen minutes later, the alarm rang and I pulled the string that was hanging from the ceiling. The woman came back in, helped me out of the tub and pushed me into a shower, where I had to rinse off. Without my asking, she opened the shower at one point and helped me with my back. Then she wrapped me in a bed linen and led me to a little cot where she made me lie down and she wrapped more blankets over me, put the timer on and left. I could have fallen asleep there, in that little cocoon, but the timer went off again. I felt like I was part of some kind of recipe, and I was done.

I dressed and headed downstairs for my massage. With a few other women, I was showed to a locker room, where we stripped again and put the bed linens around us. Then we walked into this really large room with grimy wet floors, filled with random bath tubs and showers. No one told us what to do, but the girl who was with me went into one of the showers and so I followed her direction and rinsed off again. I came out and stood there for a while, holding on to my bed sheet.

I watched a hefty naked women, with large breasts down to her waist, walk into a corner. One of the technicians turned on a hose and started spraying her full blast with it, focusing on her legs at first and then her belly and then she made her turn around and do her back.

Oh my god, I thought to myself. Is this the massage? I mentally prepared myself for being hosed down for 15 minutes while everyone watched me. Then again, if this woman had no shame, I could handle it, too.

A woman called my name and I was led to another room, where I breathed a sigh of relief. There was a massage table. The 15-minute massage focused on the shoulders, back and butt. Most American spa therapists never touch the butt, but here they went at it with full force. My butt seemed to have a lot of tension in it.

For the shoulders, she made me sit up completely naked while she worked my neck. I couldn't help but smile. In America, they are so particular about nudity, making sure you are covered the whole time, that this would never happen. I felt completely comfortable though. A woman walked in and started talking to the therapist. I tried to ignore their conversation until the alarm went off.

I left the spa feeling really good. I wished the experience lasted longer, but then again, I feel that way anytime I leave a spa. I was glad I could experience it Czech style.

After the spa, I went out for lunch, read a book, practiced some Polish, then took a nap. I have a nice life. What do I have to complain about?

Is this a spa or a hospital?



Dirty tub o' mud.



Ice cream delights at Albert's.

There's something in the water.

Cheers!

Karlovy Vary is a spa town on the western part of the Czech Republic, which I thought would be a nice, relaxing stop after walking up and down the streets of Prague for the last six days. I was envisioning an oasis in the middle of nowhere, a posh, upscale little town, miles of nature walks and spas where I can sit and be rubbed and scrubbed and pampered for hours.

When I stepped off the bus, I was greeted with a rundown bus station, a McDonald's and a giant supermarket.

Looking at the map, the town looked small, so I decided to walk to my hostel. Big mistake. While it wasn't a long walk, my hostel is on top of a hill that is San Francisco-worthy. Walking up it with my hundred pounds of belongings was torturous. Halfway through, I bumped into a bunch of construction workers. I stopped to take a breather and ask one if I was heading the right way. He pointed straight up the hill. I trudged along, stopping again to take a break. I could hear the construction worker yelling, "Keep going!" When I got to the top, I had completely soaked through my shirt with sweat.

The girl at the hostel suggested that I take an apartment I could have all to myself. It cost more, but not too much more. At that point, she could have suggested I sleep in the doghouse. I said yes, sure, whatever, just GET THIS BAG OFF ME! I got to the room (which of course was on the fourth and top floor of a walk-up building) and it was bigger than my New York City apartment. It was more than I needed, more than I wanted to spend, but fine, I'll take it.

I wandered back down the hill (waving to the construction guys) and got some lunch. I decided on this Italian place and since I was so hot, I decided to sit outside, which was my second mistake of the day because I was freezing in ten minutes. The menu was written in every language possible, but not in any consistent order, so I ended up ordering from the Italian menu. The ravioli I got had the pastiest white sauce ever (so much for spa food) and they charged me for the olive oil they placed on my table even though I didn't use any.

This place was strange. Most of the signs were written in either Czech or Russian, and most of the people seemed to be one or the other. I had read that this town was supposed to be luxurious. While it did get considerable nicer away from the bus station, I wasn't sure who would consider this place all that posh. I walked by jewelry store after jewelry store selling ugly and gaudy jewelry, a wig store, clothing stores selling leather outfits and fur hats. Spa treatments were advertised here and there, but the signs scared me. They spoke of "medical cures" and "laser treatments" and showed pictures of ugly naked people taking part in dubious treatments, like the one I saw of a woman standing in a random silver cylinder with a big smile on her face.

The biggest deal about Karlovy Vary is the spring water. It is available all over town, at community drinking stations, and it is supposed to be very good for your digestion. You can buy a little cup to drink the water at the souvenir shops. The cups are made of glass, and they look like a little flask. Some have a handle or nozzle. I saw so many people holding these cups, filling them up at these random water fountains around town, that I decided that I needed to participate.

I bought the baby-sized cup (it even has a cartoon character on it), walked to a fountain and I tested the water. I don't know what to compare it to, but I imagine that dirty pennies in a warm cup of water tastes similar. It was nasty. I looked around to see if anyone was looking, and I dumped the rest of the water out in the river.

Everyone else seemed oblivious to the fact that the water tasted bad. I wandered into an ugly, communist style building thinking it was a museum of something, but instead inside was a giant room filled with springs and miserable-looking people filling their cups in fountains, sitting on benches and drinking. That's when I decided that they must filter drugs in there or something.

I went to one of the main spas to sign up for some appointments for tomorrow. I was really excited about the idea about spending the day in the spa. Most spa treatments here are prescribed by a spa doctor and people stay for weeks, but you can arrange some day appointments as well. The woman said that there was not much available for tomorrow.

I arranged for a partial massage and a mud bath.

"They are 15 minutes each," the girl said.

"You mean fifty?"

"No, 15. Like 1-5."

What miracle cure can you possibly do in 15 minutes?

Well, that sounds like a relaxing…half-hour. Wonder what else tomorrow will bring.

Pick a cup, any cup.



The room of miserable water drinkers.



One of the scary spa ads.



Karlovy Vary-pretty from a distance.