M-whY

... At one of Budapest's thermal baths. Initiated during a period of Turkish occupation, the city's bathing culture has been thriving ever since the 16th-17th centuries. A number of baths are open to the public. At the suggestion of someone from the hostel, I took the metro to City Park, where the faint sulfurous smell led me to Szechenyi Spa Baths. I paid a 2200Ft admission fee - how it works is visitors pay full fare upfront and are refunded for unused time at the end - and walked through the doors I took to be the entrance. A woman indicated I should go upstairs.

Now I have no clue when it comes to bath etiquette. I was hoping they saw enough tourists that they'd know what to do with me. The attendant on the second floor led me to a wooden stall. This, I figured, was where I should change. I don't pack swimming trunks, but shorts should do the trick. I stuffed the rest of my clothes in my bag and wondered where I was supposed to leave it.

I stepped out and looked to the woman, expecting her to show me the lockers or something. Instead, she gestured I should go back inside. What? Shorts aren't acceptable attire?

For the briefest moment, I wondered if she meant I should strip naked. Then I noticed the key on the door. Lateral thinking concluded the changing room doubled as personal storage, and I locked my belongings inside. Satisfied, she pointed me down a different flight of stairs to the baths.

Cameras weren't allowed in the coed facilities. Sagging old Magyars in speedos and bikinis made up 90% of the clientele anyways, and I didn't necessarily want pictures of that. Let me try to describe the setting instead: Imagine spacious chamber after spacious chamber of thermal pools, of varying sizes and temperatures. 34 degrees (Celsius), 36 degrees, 38 degrees. In front of one pool, a young woman led retirees in underwater aerobics, in another, swimmers paddled around in counterclockwise circles. In the majority of them, people just lounged about, soaking up waters that are supposed to have medicinal qualities. Acting like I knew what I was doing, I moved from bath to sauna to bath to steamroom to bath... Wash, rinse, and repeat.

What really blew me away was when I found the outdoor baths. Keep in mind we're in winter now. A layer of snow covered the patio furniture and more flakes continuted to pile on. Screw the rules, I thought. I need pictures! I returned to the changing area and fetched my camera, which - get this - is waterproof! I knew that feature would come in handy some day.

Tucked under my shorts when I wasn't using it and obscured by the mist when I was, no one noticed as I snuck pictures of the Baroque courtyard. In the center of one of the pools was a jacuzzi and whirlpool. Watching little old women being propelled in circles by powerful jets of the latter was a hilarious sight, and getting caught in the current myself was even more fun. I couldn't bear pulling myself away; In total, I spent four hours at the baths, ending up as wrinkled as many of my fellow bathers.

I'll let you guys in on another (dirty) little secret. Not only can showers difficult to come by, it's even tougher to find time for laundry. Small items I can do in a sink and place on a heater to dry, but my jeans? I don't think they've been washed for about two months. (They're my only pair.) Considering how often I wipe my filthy hands on them - there's no one around to yell at me when I do! - I'm sure they're also in dire need of a cleaning. So back at the hostel, I set aside the remainder of the day for getting those washed as well.

Thanks to everyone for their support and comments! Knowing people are reading keeps me motivated to continue the updates!