When did we women in the U.S. become so busy that we need to
have someone else do our nails? I don’t know when this happened, but now there
are nail salons everywhere and there are women who go regularly. Yes, it’s
true, things are very busy and hectic in this country. We do not relax as much
as we should. We do not take enough time off from work. We have very few
vacation days and some people don’t ever even use them (what is that all about?). Maybe this manicure/pedicure thing is a little
vacation.
Maybe spas are as well. They are also everywhere these days.
Beauty salons have them. Hotels have them. Casinos have them. They are a great
way to get some pampering. There is nothing like a massage to work out all that
stress. Mud baths and body wraps supposedly do wonders. And facials are a luxury
for some (although I personally hate it when anyone touches my face, especially
constantly and continually with greasy hands over several minutes. No thanks.)
When I was in Ecuador, I took a weekend trip to the town of
Baños with some friends from my Spanish school. Baños is a town with many hot spring and steam sources (hence the name, which means
“Baths”). Our hotel had “hot baths” on the top floor. Now this was no fancy,
schmancy hotel. It was inexpensive and simple. And the hot bath was very
economical, even for us students.
My friend Naomi and I went up to the top of the hotel in our
bathing suits. We each got inside a box, where we sat down, our bodies
enclosed, and our heads sticking out of the top. (Wasn’t there an old cartoon
where someone got into a steam box one size and came out much, much smaller?)
Then the steam was upon us. It was hot. Really, really hot.
When it got so hot we thought we were going to melt into a puddle, attendants
opened the box and had us get out. We stepped a few feet in front of the boxes
and they ladled cool water all over us, using downward hand motions (to guide
out the toxins perhaps). Then we got back in the box for another steamy, hot
experience. This cycle happened about three times. After the final steam, we
were guided outside to the roof terrace, where other guests were relaxing after
their baths. We were told to stand by a wall and then they hosed us down with
more cool water. My friend screamed. I contemplated the daily routines of
women’s prisons. Then we were done.
And this is what we got out of it: baby soft skin. I mean
super soft. My skin had never been so silky smooth. It was also very relaxing
despite all the hot, cold, hot, cold business.
This experience inspired me to seek out something different
than a usual spa when I traveled to San Francisco with some girlfriends a few
years ago. I knew there was a strong Asian influence in the Bay Area and I
wanted to do something cultural, not just eat some great Asian food. I was
initially thinking some kind of acupuncture or something similar in China Town.
But then a male friend who lives in SF suggested a Korean spa some of his
female friends had been to and recommended. So we made reservations for
massages.
Included in our massage price was access to a steam room,
sauna, hot tub, and showers. This was a “women only” spa, so although we each
had terry cloth bathrobes to use, we could just walk around naked. Because that's what people do.
Then the massage ladies called us upstairs. We were led into
a room with what I can only describe as stainless steel tables covered with
large plastic sheets. It looked like a place where autopsies were performed.
There were another two guests on two of the tables (alive thankfully, but in
the same room). The massage ladies told us to take off our robes and lie down.
This is when my friend Susan whispered to me, “I’m going to kill you.”
So, there we were, naked, lying face down on plastic sheets
and metal gurneys. Horrible, right? Wrong. These women began pouring warm water
all over us. Not too hot, but warm enough to feel great. Water was flying
everywhere, which explained the plastic sheeting. It also explained why the
massage ladies were only wearing their underwear: bras and panties. Any
clothing would have been drenched. We later wondered why bathing suits weren’t
worn instead. And believe me, these undergarments were worn very modestly. If
you know what “granny panties” are, then you get my drift.
Next, wearing some kind of loofah gloves (not sure because I
couldn’t see), the massagers started exfoliating the hell out of us. All over
our bodies. We were loofah’d in places we didn’t even know could be loofah’d.
Then they switched to a regular massage (no loofah gloves), working out the
tension we had developed from being naked on plastic covered metal tables in a
room full of strangers and being loofah’d within an inch of our lives. Then
they switched to warm oil. I don’t
recall how long this all went on. It had to have been close to an hour,
after which we were lying on our backs, when they rinsed off the oil, massaged our heads, and poured
warm milk all over us, including our hair. Then we were rinsed off with more ladled warm water
and we were done. Pretty silky smooth after this one, too.
My friend Laurel had been by herself in another room,
getting a different treatment because she was pregnant. When she came down to the hot tub, she said in amazement, “That was the best
thing that has ever happened to me!”
Yeah. It was pretty awesome. Crazy, but awesome.
As I usually do, I will suggest that when you are traveling,
whether in your own country or abroad, try to experience different things than what you are
accustomed to at home. Don’t just go to a spa that is like a spa you would find
in your own town or city. Try something new. But as always, be cautious. Some
“spas” have seedy reputations. Do your homework or get recommendations from
people you trust. Check websites for customer feedback. Just like you would at
home. But take a chance to try something new. You may end up more relaxed than
ever. And softer than a baby’s bottom!
