Fuddland

Further ingratiating myself with the locals, I spent an hour at a bathhouse today: a large, clean room lined with showers, with a hot tub and sauna at one end, and two massage tables in the centre.

You begin with a quick shower to get the surface dirt off, followed by ten minutes in a piping-hot tub, before a sweat in the sauna to get those pores unblocked. Then comes the main event: a complete scrub-down and massage from one of the male helpers, armed with an abrasive glove and plenty of soap. He cleans you from head to toe, front and back, in every nook and cranny [yes, every nook and cranny], so vigorously the first thing I did when it was over was check that my tattoo hadn’t been eroded away. It took all the willpower I could muster not to giggle and flinch when he scrubbed the soles of my feet and between my toes — I wish I weren’t so ticklish.

The pampering was rounded-off with a quick but effective back massage — I felt a good few inches taller and about a kilo’s worth of grime lighter. The only complaint I had was with the cheap disposable razors that almost cut my neck to shreds, despite my stubble being as soft as warm butter from all the heat — next time I’ll bring my own.

#1

Gordon | 2006 / 03 / 21 – 00:30

Not sure I’d have giggled as much as yelped and run out! Surely he didn’t scrub ‘there’… my oh my..

#2

David | 2006 / 03 / 21 – 10:04

Re #1: Everywhere mate. Ev. Ree. Where.

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