Treat Yo Self

Nudity is a funny thing. In America, it's very in vogue right now to celebrate our bodies. We make grandiose statements about loving ourselves, or whatever. Yet when it comes to taking a good, hard look, how many do?

Let me give you an example. In some schools, girls are not to wear leggings, because heaven forbid a sweet young thing expose the line of her shapely leg and drive a gentleman to distraction. The underlying premise is that there is something inherently shameful about her body, something taboo.

What about when Grandpa digs out his old speedo to go for a nice stroll at the beach? Who celebrates that?

Caracalla is the building that's cut off on the left. 

I bring this up because yesterday we went to the German city of Baden Baden, about thirty minutes away from Kehl. "Baden" means "bath" in German, and Baden Baden is one of the many cities in the Black Forest known for its mineral baths. So we betook ourselves to Kehl and boarded a trailer of a train to Baden Baden.

Baden Baden has a great many spas that attract Germans and foreigners alike, but it was Caracalla we were bound for. I understand that Caracalla isn't as "authentic" of a spa experience as Friedrichbad, according to my host mother, and according to the Australians we ran into outside the train station in Baden Baden, but the thought of complete mandatory nudity is a bit intimidating, you understand.

Not that we didn't go nude.

No way to take pictures inside, so here's Caracalla from
outside, up, and to the left

The Germans have a magnificent attitude toward nudity: they simply don't give a damn. In Caracalla, the ground floor is a series of mineral baths constructed in some Romanesque bathhouse manner, complete with a marble statue of a full breasted Venus leaning over the pool. Here we shielded ourselves with bathing suits. We explored the indoor pool, which was very warm, and then moved outdoors, which had one very warm pool and one slightly cooler one. It was a mild day but compared to the heat of the mineral water, it was cold.

The pools are equipped with all kinds of jets and and fountains and clever little ramps and platforms for relaxing in. The water had none of the chlorine stench I had come to associate with swimming pools, nor did it give off the briny smell of the sea, which threw me off for a while.

After some stalling, we padded on bare feet back to the locker rooms and removed our suits as though removing armor before entering battle. It was a funny feeling. The way to the saunas was a winding staircase, and that second floor may as
well have been a nudist commune.

I mean it. Everyone was naked. Shamelessly, defiantly unclothed. I thought it would be uncomfortable to be naked in front of strangers but to my surprise, it was odd to be covered. So off came our towels. Soon we were as shameless as they. Perhaps you will think badly of me, but I enjoyed the sensation of being naked in a room of naked strangers. Although if you keep an open mind, you'll see that there's really nothing wrong with that at all. It's the most natural thing in the world.

The first sauna we went into smelled of something woody and musky that I couldn't quite place. It was so hot in there the air burned my nostrils when I inhaled. I laid down my towels, crossed my legs, and meditated. After a while (one shouldn't stay too long), I lifted my eyelids and peered into the darkened room through my lashes. I became aware of a man looking at me, yet there seemed nothing wrong in that. In what must have been another life, I would have been uncomfortable, but right then I was undisturbed. I simply closed my eyes again and forgot about him. After all, it is none of your business what people think of you.

The deluge of cold water that followed was excruciating, then refreshing. Alternating hot and cold temperatures is very good for you, you know. It stimulates the lymph system and really revs up the metabolism.

Then we hung our towels up outside of another room, and entered to a blast of steam. The last room was a kind of dry heat, but this one was so steamy that at times you couldn't see five feet in front of you. There are hoses that you must use to rinse yourself and the ledge off before you sit, presumably for reasons of hygiene. It was hard to breathe in there too, but unlike a hot and humid day, there was no worrying about sweat stains or sweating off your makeup. You are free to let your body sweat as much as it pleases, not that it waits for your permission. It really is a very liberating experience.

Then back to frigid water. My favorite part was the Waldsauna, or the Woodland Sauna, which is a log cabin outside a ways. It was 85 degrees. Celsius.

I still remember how it smelled in there, like oak and sandalwood and musk. My God, if I could bottle it, I would drench everything I own, every part of my body, in the stuff. Maybe I'll burn incense so that I can fall asleep smelling sandalwood, and let scent can perfume my hair.

There was an old lady exiting as we were entering and she smiled conspiratorially at me as she slipped past me. Her hand grazed my side from breast to waist and she didn't apologize. This wasn't a place for apologizing.

I paid thirty-two euros for a twenty-five minute massage (nineteen for the whole three hour session). Why? Read the title.

It was really weird at first, to have some German lady with winged eyeliner on point, massage me naked. As a general rule, though, if nobody makes a fuss, the issue goes away. It really isn't a big deal at all. She didn't care, I didn't care, my parents didn't care. I mean, they weren't there, but I'm sure it wouldn't have bothered them. (And now it's too late for them to care, if they were going to, haha! I love college)

Now that we know how to be naked, we plan to return to Baden Baden when the weather is colder, to try out Friedrichsbad.

Baden Baden, on the stretch of road between Caracalla and Friedrichsbad