Naked to the Neins: The Bare Facts about German Spas

The German spa experience is quite different from its American counterpart. Across the pond, it’s about taking the waters, relaxing, and invigorating all of one's senses (to wit, many German spas actually have concert halls where one can enjoy the sound of music in the quest to lower one's blood pressure. Quite civilized, that). Pampering and prissy treatments are verboten..

Still, it hardly sounds daunting, until you enter a place I shall call the Naked Spa of Bad Fussing (aka Thermae 1). I am traveling with a quintet of women, including a statuesque guide of German and French Guianan descent. This is fortunate, because all eyes tend to stray directly to her.

We enter a facility that seems somewhat antiseptic, like a sanitarium of yore…not to imply that I intimately know what a sanitarium of yore looks like. (This reminds me of a recent conversation with someone who had taken a tour of an insane asylum back when political correctness had not invaded our language. Said “tourist” mentioned her guide was a schizophrenic. To which I replied, “At least you got both sides of the story.”)

Apologies for the digression. I know you are probably sitting at the edge of your seat waiting for the Naked Spa story to unfold. And naked truth be told, we were sitting at the edges of our seats naked in the honey-baked sauna. But I get ahead of myself.

The first clue that something might be amiss is in the changing area. While our little group changes into our bloomers (swimsuits required for the pool area), we notice men...and children...walking right on by.

Still, we are clueless little weenies. We head to a water aerobics sessions, where we happily flail (clothed) to a fusion of bad 1980s Euro-disco (I know, that's redundant) and alpine yodeling. Next, our intrepid quintet makes its way to the sauna garden. There, Isabelle knocks up the Sauna Meister. Apparently, Sauna Meister is a full-time job in Germany ("...and what do you want to be when you grow up, little Helmut?"). The Sauna Meister gives us the skinny on the day's Naked Spa activities.


Our sticky situation rears its head as we enters the Honegspeeleng (the honey sauna). This is the point at which we fully realize we not only have to lose our outerwear, but our towel wraps as well. What's a weenie to do? Well, frankly, there's no choice. With the sauna room packed cheek to cheek, it is quite apparent that we will poke out like sore thumbs if we remain clad.

Thus we join a co-ed group of 40 naked people, with nary a washboard ab in sight. Within minutes, the Sauna Meister cometh. For those trying to picture the scene (and please leave me out of it if you are), the Sauna Meister is not naked. No, it is a fully-clothed Sauna Meister who comes bearing pots of honey. He passes them out and everyone proceeds to slather him/herself and his/her neighbor. Isabelle cautions us against rubbing honey on die scheide.

After the honey sauna, lo and beehold, we are detoxified. The next step is cooling off with a naked foot bath. I have the pleasure of taking mine next to an incessant hummer (to clarify for readers of the Urban Dictionary, please note that said man is merely singing without words). The rest of the day is spent sans swimsuit, the buns of our group of weenies fully exposed.

Now, lest this scare you off a spa trip to Germany, be advised that all spas are not naked.. In fact, at the next place we visit, the Wellness-Hotel Sonnegut in Bad Birnbach, swimsuits are de rigueur. And interestingly enough, the bodies in those swimsuits are much more fit than the naked bodies at Thermae 1 (not that I was looking, mind you). Go figure.

A Weenie's Adventure in a Chinese ER

Before the fall

One of the reasons weenies have second thoughts about traveling to exotic locations is the pre-trip litany of "what ifs" that pop into one's head prior to hitting the road. What if I get lost? What if I get sold into white slavery? What if I fall ill? Well, my friends, I can't speak to Questions #1 and #2, but let me relate the tale of my night in a Chinese ER. It was a harrowing situation, but even though I am a weenie, I must say, I took it in stride. Let me tell you the story, leaving out some of the less digestible details.

As part of a government-run tour of China back in the mid-1980s, our group made various obligatory stops at communes, factories, and a hospital. At the time, the latter seemed like a place of torture, as patients were undergoing procedures like cupping and acupuncture--treatments that seemed archaic then, but, in retrospect, were rather ahead of their time. The sanitation conditions at the hospital weren't all that keen. Pity the poor Westerner who might fall ill and end up in one of China's health centers back in the 1980s.

Or pity the poor Westerner who falls ill in 2013...namely, me. It's an extremely hot May day in China. We have spent a long morning sightseeing at The Summer Palace. The afternoon is reserved for the concrete-clad Tiannamen Square and the expansive Forbidden City. It's 95 degrees, not counting the heat emanating from the pavement below. Beijing's poor air quality adds to the torturous conditions. It is 2:00 PM--high time for Chairman Sun.

All is fine until we enter the Forbidden City, inside of which no beverages are available. I start feeling the effects of heat exhaustion, a condition from which I have previously suffered (the last after a Bikram Yoga session led by Dick Cheney). My heart starts palpitating, I go pale, and my mouth dries up like the Gobi. I know from experience that I am too far gone. I sit against the walls of the Forbidden City, knowing that Confucius says a hospital visit is in my future.

One of my colleagues runs outside the walls to buy water. I down it as if I am being water-boarded. Bad choice, says the doctor who treated me later. Drinking too much straight H2O when dehydrated can be a version of Chinese Water Torture (one should take water with a helping of electrolytes, apparently). But I am getting ahead of myself. Back in the Forbidden City, I commandeer a wheelchair and a "driver", who races me through the cobblestone plazas of the Forbidden City, nearly crashing into people, rickshaws, and bicyclists along the way. He gets me back to the parked tour bus after an hour and I start feeling a bit better.

That feeling was short-lived, and I know an IV drip at the ER is the only cure. It takes two hours to get through traffic to a hospital that ostensibly has an International Travel Clinic. Ostensibly, I say, as no one speaks anything but Chinese, and the toilets in the waiting area are Eastern-style. Believe me.

The face of heat exhaustion

After an hour of waiting, I finally meet with an English-speaking doctor and relate my malady. He orders blood tests. Let it be said that Chinese nurses are not gentle with their needles, which are the old heavy metal types. After being jabbed in the wrist several times, I am wheeled back for an IV. I should add that my blood pressure was never taken, nor was my temperature. Furthermore, I was not given the ability to change out of my clothing, stained with sweat and, ahem, other bodily fluids. 

Two young ladies from the Chinese outpost of my tour company stay with me all night. Thank goodness. There is no accessible button to call the nurse. There are no regular rounds--I didn't see a doctor nor a nurse for hours at a time. When I have to take a bathroom break, my lovely ladies grab my IV bag and hook it above the toilet. This loo, while Western-style, does not come equipped with toilet paper nor soap. No soap in a hospital? Not very encouraging.

Also not very encouraging--the first charge on my credit card for 6000 RBM--the equivalent of $1000. Then, each time a blood test was run, they take my credit card again. Fortunately, whatever the total ended up being, my trusty TravelGuard policy covered it. 

End of story: I am released from the hospital at 7 AM with a bag of electrolytes and a list of instructions printed in Chinese. I head off to a Beijing hotel to recover before rejoining my group in another country the next day. 

Now, given this adventure, a true weenie might defer from future trips to hot spots. But there was no way I was passing up the chance to head to Namibia just four months later, even though it was almost summer there and that country is largely desert. To offset my chances of landing in an African ER, I stocked myself with REI electrolyte tablets, moderated my liquid intake, and wore a big old hat. I am report to report that I traveled through Namibia cool as a cucumber.

Riding Trains Through Siberia

As Amtrak has been proving this winter, riding a train can certainly be an adventure. So there's little doubt that traveling the Trans-Siberian route through Russia is quite an exploit. But what made my trip on the Trans-Siberian an adventure for a weenie, rather than one for a hard-core explorer, was the fact that I was riding on a private train and I had my own bathroom. I didn't travel the authentic Trans-Siberian, rubbing shoulders with Russians and trying to decipher Cyrillic. But now that I have tackled the weenie one, I'm game for the real thing.

1. Most people think that there’s one train called the Trans-Siberian Express running along a lengthy railroad between Russia’s eastern port of Vladivostok and Moscow. But contrary to popular belief, there is no such train. The Trans-Siberian is actually made up of a network of domestic and international trains crisscrossing countries and borders. Yes, a Trans-Siberian journey can start in Vladivostok. But it can also start in Beijing or Ulan Bator. These itineraries, sometimes dubbed Trans-Mongolian routes, follow Trans-Siberian track once they hit Russian territory.

Lenin's Giant Head in Ulan-Ude

2. You can opt to rub shoulders with the locals on Russian train or you can travel in a private train. The latter is certainly the easier and more comfortable way to go...and the one for weenies. But it is also the far more expensive option. There's a price to be paid for comfort, after all.

3. The Golden Eagle runs the classic 5,772-mile route between Vladivostok and Moscow. In 2014, The Golden Eagle 15-day trek across Siberia starts at $15,495 per person double occupancy in Silver Class to $29,995 for top-of-the-line Imperial Suites.  All compartments have bathrooms en suite.  

Tsar's Gold by Lake Baikal

4. The 15-day Zarengold or Tsar’s Gold, running between Beijing and Moscow, is less expensive, mainly because it provides a larger selection of compartment types. 2014 prices start at $9200 per person for a Classic compartment (which share toilet and shower facilities). For a compartment with private bath, prices start at $15,820 in Bolshoi and go up to $19,520 per person in Bolshoi Plus.

5. Don't forget to obtain a visa before you hit the road...or the track. Americans need visas for travel in both Russia and China.

6. I recommend traveling East to West. That way, you end up getting more sleep and more daylight along the way, as you go back in time across nine time zones.

I

It may look cold, but I'm quite comfortable in
Kazan wearing long shorts in May.

7. Load your iPad with lengthy tomes good books and epic movies. Good Russian reads include Travels in Siberia by Ian Frazier, The Gulag Archipelago by Aleksandr Solzhenitsyn , and Anna Karenina by Leo Tolstoy (although you may want to skip the ending, where Anna tosses herself under a train). Appropriate flicks include Dr. Zhivago and the lesser-known Transsiberian, starring Woody Harrelson.

8. Most Trans-Siberian private trains run between May and early October. Be forewarned: Siberia can be surprisingly hot. Leave your parkas and your mukluks behind.

9. Tsar’s Gold trips can be booked directly through Lernidee at www.lernidee,com; through MIR at www.mircorp.com, or via Smithsonian Journeys www.smithsonianjourneys.org. More information on Vladivostok to Moscow trips can be found at www.goldeneagleluxurytrains.com.

For more, listen to my segment on Around the World Radio (August 29 edition) or read my report published in Travel Weekly.

Adventures in Jerusalem

With so much to see and do in Jerusalem, one can easily be overcome. To make the most of your adventure in the Holy City, follow my travel bible.

1. Plan to spend several days in Jerusalem. On Day One, wander without a map and without an agenda. It is only by navigating the maze that is the Old City that you will learn how to get around.

2. If you want to access the Temple Mount, and are not a Muslim, visiting times vary (but are usually restricted to three hours in the morning and one in the afternoon). The site is closed to visitors on Fridays and Saturdays. Non-Muslims are not allowed in the Dome of the Rock (see photo) nor the Al Aqsa Mosque. The main security entrance to the Western Wall is also the main entry point for non-Muslim Temple Mount visitors. The line for the Temple Mount is on the far right-hand side of the sidewalk. As the line moves slowly, get there at least 30 minutes early.

3. The only time to see the interior of the 12th-century Church of St. James in the Armenian Quarter is at 3 PM daily, when religious services are held.

4. Try to time your visit to Jerusalem so that you are there at the start of Shabbat. The Jewish Sabbath starts at sundown on Friday night. And that's when the Western Wall is transformed. Thousands of worshipers come to celebrate, commune, and pray. Do note, if you do come to the Western Wall area on the Sabbath (between sundown Friday night and sundown Saturday night), you are not allowed to take photographs.

5. If you can’t visit during Shabbat, go for a Monday or a Thursday. Those are the days reserved for Bar and Bat Mitzvahs at the Western Wall. So again, you have a hub of religious activity and fervor.

6. Go up ‘oer the ramparts of the Old City. Built by Sultan Suleiman the Magnificent in the XVIth Century, the ramparts built atop the city walls circumnavigate the city. However, you can't circumnavigate the city in one shot, as access to the ramparts by the Temple Mount is closed. As a result, there are two possible routes for a Ramparts Walk: The northern route, from Jaffa Gate to the Lions Gate or the southern route, which begins at the Tower of David and ends at the Dung Gate.

7. Go down below and explore the tunnels under the Western Wall Plaza. A 90-minute tunnel tour reveals hidden layers of history, including large blocks of the Western Wall. Advance reservations are required, but they can be made the same day.

8. There are several hostels that were originally designed to lodge pilgrims to the Holy City. Today, whether you are a religious pilgrim or merely a curious one, you can stay for a song at places like the Lutheran Guesthouse; the Austrian Hospice (complete with a café serving Viennese treats); and the low-budget Armenian Hostel (located smack dab on the Via Dolorosa). Or choose from two dozen other Christian guesthouses.

Adventures in Burma of Yore

People who visit Myanmar, aka Burma, in 2014 will have a far different experience than I did in 1997. Yes, given the recent opening of the country, travel there is still an adventure. But to appreciate how far the country has come since the days of its hardest-core dictatorship, here's a look back.

The temples of Bagan

When I traveled to Myanmar/Burma* in 1997, a military dictatorship known as the SLORC (State Law and Order Restoration Council) was at the height of its power. The country was completely cut off from the West, and ubiquitous billboards  headlined "The People's Desire" warned citizens to:

--oppose those relying on external elements, acting as stooges, holding negative views 
--oppose those trying to jeopardize stability of the state and progress of the nation 
--oppose foreign nations interfering in internal affairs of the state and 
--crush all internal and external destructive elements as the common enemy.

Needless to say, journalists entering the country were well-advised to list another profession on their visa applications.

The only English news came in the form of "The New Light of Myanmar", a government propaganda rag highlighting the various accomplishments of the generals illegitimately in charge. Nobel Peace Prize Laureate Aung San Suu Kyi was in the midst of a long-term house arrest, punishment for her party's win in a 1990 national election. The locals were extremely paranoid, with reason, as the government encouraged spying on thy neighbor (shades of Communist Europe). Talking politics with the Burmese meant first gaining their trust and then finding a quiet corner where one was not likely to be overheard.

Despite the intrigue and the political turmoil (or maybe because of it), I found Myanmar/Burma to be one of the most fascinating and complex places I have ever been. The people were gentle, the roads to Mandalay and Yangon and Bagan were captivating, and the countryside felt like something out of a Zen painting, complete with monks clad in orange, walking in front of hazy, watery horizons.

Thanks to new government policies, most travel publications are naming Myanmar/Burma* as one of the year's hot destinations. If you decide to go, remember, this is a country that has been closed off  to modernity for some time. But the beauty of that is, if you go soon, you can still have the adventure of discovery before it becomes overrun with Starbucks, McDonalds, Marriotts and tourists.

*For an explanation of what to call the country, click here.

What's a Weenie?

You may be asking yourself, "hey, is this a blog for me?  Am I, indeed, a weenie?" By reading this blog week over week, you will be able to determine whether you fall into this category or not. Just know that in no way is "weenie" pejorative. The fact is, anyone who is game for travel cannot be a total weenie.

You wanted to see a naked spa
picture, didn't you? 

That said, let me try to hone in on a definition. As I mention in my bio, I have been dragged into all sorts of compromising situations during my years of travel. Some adventures, like traveling to dictatorships in Asia and Europe, have been exciting and illuminating. Living in Bologna for six weeks to study Italian--I tackled that one with gusto.

For me, it's usually the ones that involve physicality that bring out my true inner weenie. As I sit astride a horse from Montana who has decided to practice for the Kentucky Derby; as I pedal a bicycle through Provence while heading straight into the Mistral; as my crampons slip and slide on a New Zealand glacier; as I drop my robe before entering a naked co-ed German sauna--I have to ask myself, to paraphrase The Talking Heads, how did I get here? A true adventure traveler never asks that question--they savor the precariousness of all situations--mental or physical.

Of course, people perceive peril differently. I have no problem walking through a souk in Marrakesh alone. But many others would view that as foolhardy. Similarly, when I traveled by myself behind the Iron Curtain, people thought I must be made of steel. Personally, I never felt safer. In other words, I have little fear of traveling alone.

On the other hand, make me go kayaking in Hawaii (long story--you'll hear about it in another post) or force me to go camping in the wilderness with no indoor plumbing and out comes my inner weenie.

What I am trying to say is that, on some level, everyone is a weenie. Everyone is not a weenie in the same way, but even the biggest hot dog has a slice of weenie in him. This blog is designed to encourage everyone--from the mini-weenie to the giant weenie--to take a step away from the proverbial cozy bun and mustard (sic) up the courage to relish adventure travel in a big way.

Going Crazy for Adventure Travel

One of the dangers of adventure travel is the possibility of losing your mind. Here are some travel-related syndromes to watch out for.

The big kahuna is Jerusalem Syndrome. The malady is reported to impact some pilgrims to the Holy City, and is characterized by religiously-themed obsessive ideas or delusions (thinking one is the Messiah or feeling the need to shout verses from the Bible), or by psychotic behaviors ranging from ritual bathing to compulsive fingernail and toenail cutting. Although it may affect those of any religion, Scandinavians and American Protestants seem particularly susceptible. Some psychologists say Jerusalem Syndrome is a unique illness, while others say it is merely a symptom of pre-existing mental conditions.

If you are on a tour of Jerusalem, beware of the following behaviors from members of your group, as cited by one Dr. Gregory Katz in the British Journal of Psychiatry in 2000.

Stage 1- Afflicted tourist becomes nervous, agitated and tense.

Stage 2- Tourist splits away from the tour group.

Stage 3- An obsession with cleanliness.

Stage 4- Sufferer prepares a long white robe.

Stage 5- Person begins to sing psalms, Bible extracts or religious songs.

Stage 6- Person marches to a holy place in Jerusalem.

Stage 7- Person starts delivering sermons on any mount.

Meantime, Paris Syndrome is a transient condition, most often suffered by the Japanese, during visits to the City of Light. It was first widely reported in Nervure, a French psychiatric journal, in 2004. About 20 Japanese tourists a year are affected by the condition, which is characterized by delusions, hallucinations, anxiety and sweating, among others. According to the authors of the Nervure study, Japanese are particularly prone due to language barriers, culture clashes, travel exhaustion, and a pre-idealized image of Paris, to which the reality does not mesh.

Finally, Florence Syndrome, better known as Stendhal Syndrome, is a condition named after the 19th-century French author, who was overcome by the beauty and breadth of Renaissance masterpieces during a visit to Italy. Nowadays, what is considered a psychosomatic condition is marked by symptoms including rapid heartbeat, weak knees, dizziness, fainting, and confusion. It is said to happen when individuals are exposed to art that is profoundly alluring or uncommonly comely. But given that the affliction is primarily the bane of middle-aged British women, perhaps it is exposure to, ahem statuesque exposure, that sets off such carnal responses.